Page 43 of The Night Of
“I need something from you.” Now my voice had gone dark, so deep and husky I could barely force the words out. I was on the edge, but I wasn’t tipping over without this. I didn’t know much, but I knew the bare bones. Some internet searches over the years, wondering once or twice if maybe this was something I should explore. I knew, at the least, that he and I needed this. “I need you to give me a safeword.”
Jonathan frowned. “I don’t need that if I trust you.”
“Ineed it,” I said. “I won’t go any further without it. A year ago, I thought I hurt you, and that destroyed me. The fear that I’d—” My throat clenched. I shook my head. “You want to trust me completely, enough to give me control over you. I need to be able to trust you completely, too. I need to know you want everything I’m doing, that I’m not going too far.”
“You won’t. I know it—”
“ButIwon’t know, Jonathan. Not without this. I need to know that you can stop me anytime you need to, anytime you want to. Look, we haven’t done a great job communicating so far. Let’s not fuck up again. I want this, and you, badly. I need you to give me this.”
He searched me, his gaze going into my mind and my soul and trying to map what it found. I let him look. We were still pressed together, legs and hips and bellies as close as we could be, and my thumbs made lazy circles on his temples as his fingers dug into the small of my back.
“Okay.”
“Is there a word you’ve used in the past?”
His eyes narrowed. “I’ve never trusted anyone enough to go this far. The partners that I had… well, it’s been a while. I knew when I joined Steven’s campaign I was signing up for celibacy.”
“Why me?” My whisper floated between us. “Out of everyone in the world, Jonathan, why me?” Why did this man, this fucking incredible man, so brilliant and passionate and courageous and fucking amazing, wantme? And trust me with this, the secret core of himself, the heartbeat of his desires? Why had he gifted me with the possibility, the opportunity, to make his dreams come true? I wasn’t worthy.
His hands trailed up my back. I shivered, pressed down into him. Felt his cock leap against my own. A puff of breath escaped from him. “You are the man I dreamed of my whole life.” His fingers slid through my hair. “Everything we shared, all the moments we stole, pretending there was nothing else in the world except the two of us—how could I not fall head over heels for you? And for the world you gave me glimpses of, what life would be like if I was cherished by you?”
“Jonathan—”
“How could I not want everything about you? You walked out of my dreams. Out of my fantasies, the make-believe worlds I created when I was alone. I never thought it was possible to want anyone like I wanted you—because I never thought it was possible for a man like you to exist.”
“Stop. I’m not that fucking guy. I mean, for the past year—”
He shut me up with a kiss, a hungry, insistent pull of his lips on mine. I groaned and kissed him back. Felt the world spin.
“We both made mistakes.” His lips moved against mine as he spoke. His eyelashes brushed my cheek. “Youarethat man to me.”
God, I fucking hoped I could be half the man he thought I was. I claimed his lips again, took control, demanded his tongue. Then, “Wait.” I pulled back. He groaned. “You didn’t pick your safeword.”
“Hazel,” Jonathan blurted out. “The color of your eyes—”
I kissed him again, until he was moaning, a chorus of gasps and sighs as he came apart beneath me. I broke free before I lost myself. I moved down, trailing open-mouthed kisses to his jaw and his neck, sucking a quick love bite over his pulse—not enough to leave a mark, but enough for him to feel. He jerked and arched his neck, exposing himself for my lips and my tongue as his fingers dug into my scalp and pulled on my hair.
His tie was bunched up, the knot loose. I left it tied for now, but his shirt was another matter. I grabbed both sides and yanked them apart. Buttons flew, one falling to the hardwood and skittering away. I buried my face in his chest, mouthing between his firm pecs and biting down on the nub of his hard nipple.
Jonathan roared through his clenched teeth. His legs wrapped around my waist as his hands squeezed my skull. I could stay there for days, sucking hickeys into his chest and running my tongue over his pecs, but his cock was pressing against my belly, and I had to get my mouth on him again. I ducked down, working his belt and pants open. His cock rose free so hard and fast it smacked against his belly. Precome dripped from the slit and covered his head.
I looked up. I wanted to drown in the waves bleeding from him, in the tsunami of trust and desire and what looked like it might be something I was near-desperate for. No one had looked at me like that, not in my whole life.
I dropped kisses to his belly, his hips, the insides of his thighs. Buried my nose in his crotch and inhaled his sweaty, dark musk. Now I was the one trembling as I stared down at him, laid out on the rumpled American flag quilt, hard and aching and panting and looking at me like I was the source of all his desires.
I wrapped my lips around his head, fucking my throat as he whimpered my name. Jonathan wanted to go fast, and that made me go even slower. I pinned him to the mattress and sucked him deep, as slowly as I could.
The groan that pushed out of him came from someplace deeper than his soul. He tried to fight me, tried to buck against my hold, but I growled, and his cock jerked against my tongue. I thought he was going to lose it right there, and I almost pulled off, but he held back. Just. His fingers tugged hard on the short strands of my hair.
I sat back, wiping my mouth as he tried to catch his breath. His chest was heaving as he sucked in huge gulps of oxygen. His eyes widened as I crawled up his body, until my knees ended up on either side of his face and my cock rose over him. I wasn’t sure about this, but he said he’d begged for it last year, and I said I trusted him. I waited for him to say “Hazel,” for this moment to end—
He grabbed my hips and guided my cock into his hot, wet mouth. Suction enveloped me, drew me in, all the way in, until my cock was pushing against the back of his throat. I pulled back, but he dragged me forward, yanked me deeper, to fuck his own mouth with my cock.
I cradled his face with my hand, stroking my thumb down the line of his high cheekbone. The vulnerability and the trust in his gaze seared my heart. My veins burned with my craving for him.
He leaned into my palm. His eyes begged.
I slid my hand through his hair. Yanked his head back. His pupils went wide. “Tap my leg if you want me to stop.” I waited until he nodded, just a fraction, to show he understood.
