Page 12 of Jagged Line Paradise

He just called me gorgeous.

A smile tears across my cheeks and the joy of it shoots a lightning bolt of energy right down to that bubble of pressure. It explodes and time freezes through one wave of pulsing pleasure after another. Everything down there becomes overly sensitive through those seconds of bliss, and I’m highly aware of the fact that his two large fingers and his pressing, swirling thumb are the catalyst for this explosive reaction.

And when the high breaks and I come back down to reality, I feel how thick he is inside me, how rough he really was with his hand, because everything down there aches, but in a magical way.

I feel ravaged and that’s such a dumb word, but it’s somehow perfectly accurate. I hate the word, but the feeling…oh,my God.

Andrés pulls his hand out slowly and I quickly recognize the absence of him as something profound. I miss having a part of him inside me and I can’t make sense of that in my head.

I look at him as I work to steady my breathing, carefully watching his features as he brings his fingers to his lips. He sticks out his tongue and swipes those fingers sensually down the length of it as his dark eyes burrow into my very soul.

“Someday I’m gonna make you come on my tongue,” he says and I whimper before his lips find mine again. He kisses me intensely, licking my tongue and feeding me my own taste.

Andrés is dirty.

He’s rough and dark and filthy in his lust, and I’m surprised to find that I love it.

I really love it.

I probably love him, too.

I know that I love him—he’s my best friend—but I can feel something extra beneath the surface that could boil over into something significant. My heart flutters in fear at the thought because feelings like that could break us.

Suddenly, he rolls on top of me and straddles my hips, pinning my legs beneath him. My breath catches in my chest as his hands quickly work to unbutton his jeans and pull down the zipper. He looks down at me with a smile as I open my mouth, ready to protest when I worry he’s going to try to have sex with me.

“I’m not gonna fuck you. I just want to watch you watch me as I come on your stomach.” He reaches down with one hand and pushes up my rumpled shirt, all the way to my breasts, exposing my stomach. My pants are still undone and the sight of us both that way makes another jolt of need punch through my stomach.

But then he pulls out his—

“Oh, my holy mother sweet baby of Ruth,” the random string of words rushes out of my mouth on a single breath as I take in his sizeable erection.

He chuckles as he wraps his hand around it and slowly tugs down to the tip. I thought I would be scared of it—I’ve never actually seen a guy’s penis before. But instead of feeling awkward, I find that I’m fascinated.

I press up onto my elbows to watch between us. There’s something to be said for how comfortable he makes me feel, even in the midst of this unplanned, totally out-there shared experience.

“You surprise me,” he says with a gruff voice as he touches himself.

My eyes narrow as I look up at his face. “How?”

“I didn’t expect this with you tonight…truthfully, I didn’t expect it ever.” He bends over me, placing a hand on the mattress beside my head to support himself, still stroking with the other, and I fall back down onto my back. “You let me finger-fuck you and you’re about to let me come on your stomach. You can get up and leave, you know.”

Is he asking me to leave?

“I don’t wanna leave.”

His eyes flutter shut and his body rocks above mine as he strokes. “Tell me why you wanna stay.”

I could give him a million reasons why I shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be doing this with him, at least not so soon. But I only need one reason to stay, and it’s the reason that I do.

“I want all of this with you. I wanna be with you.”

“Fuck,” he practically growls.

He lays down on me, nuzzling his face into my neck, his erection and his stroking hand landing warm and heavy on my stomach. And then he’s thrusting, thrusting his hard-on over my bare skin.

He pants and groans and I feel wet between my thighs again. I feel wet and hot and wild.

“Andrés…” I hardly breathe his name and that seems to be his trigger.

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