Page 117 of Major Love

Because if he’s waited that long…

I glance down at his pants and swallow hard as I finally let myself see it – the long thick ridge that’s tenting the thin fabric, looking just as rigid as the swollen muscles of his quads.

“Stop looking at it like that,” he rumbles, chuckling as his cheekbones turn crimson.

“It’s been charging for five years!” I whisper up to him. “How the hell else am I supposed to look at it?!”

And he laughs gruffly before gripping the nape of my neck and crushing his mouth straight down on mine.

“I get off every day,” he whispers roughly against me. “In the shower, morning or night. Sometimes both, if I’ve got the time.”

I swallow a whimper as I pull him closer, rubbing my chest against his to try and relieve the building ache.

“I’ll make it so good for you,” he murmurs hoarsely, the honesty in his voice making my thighs clench with need.

“I want to be good for you, too,” I tell him softly, and he breathes heavily as he looks down at me, before his gaze lowers to my panties.

And he swipes one palm down his jaw before settling his hand against the soft fabric around my hip.

“Are these thermal?” he asks huskily, his palm so hot against my skin that I feel his touch like a brand.

“Yes,” I whisper up at him, and then I’m biting my lip as he carefully tugs the thin material.

And then three big fingers slip down the front of my panties, stroking me gently beneath the cotton.

He groans, massaging harder, his chest swelling as I let him touch me.

“You’re beautiful,” he pants, his deep voice quieter than the crackling fire, and then he’s dipping down to take my lips with his, kissing me firmly as he lowers us on top of the comforter.

The soft faux-fur warms my back as Jason’s large body settles between my thighs, his thick fingers tangling in my fluffy ponytail as he licks his tongue gently against mine.

His free hand reaches behind me so that he can grip at my bra, and then he’s kissing his way down my neck, grunting as his hips roll between mine.

“I want this off,” he rumbles, tugging at the fastening of my bra.

“If you take off your shirt, then maybe I’ll allow it,” I whisper teasingly back.

He looks up at me from under his lashes and huffs a laugh against my breasts, deliberately scraping his stubble over my curves so that I can feel the coarseness against my nipples.

And heat flames in his darkening eyes when he sees that I like that.

“You’ll like it even better somewhere else,” he murmurs, before finally shoving himself to his feet and settling into a stand between my thighs.

I lift up onto my elbows and look breathlessly up at him.

“The shirt first,” I rasp, and he laughs quietly at the order.

“Okay,” he rumbles, reaching back and ripping it off, and my jaw drops at the size of his chest, inhaling shakily as I take it in.

Because I’ve never seen Jason without a shirt on before, and it turns out that he’s taneverywhere. Not just his handsome face and his big truck-lifting hands, but his swollen biceps and rippling pecs are that beautiful bronze colour, too.

He tears the fitted shirt from his wrist, tossing it over his shoulder as he watches me, and he doesn’t waste a single second before getting to work on removing his pants.

I watch the veins in his strong forearms as he yanks the fabric down his muscular thighs, the way that his thick abdomen flexes and his biceps bunch as he tugs them off.

And then he’s towering six-feet-four-inches over me, wearing nothing but a pair of grey trunks, the cotton stretched tight around his massive cock.

“Better?” he grunts, dropping the pants to the floor behind him, and watching me with unwavering confidence as he stands above me, waiting for my reaction.

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