Page 182 of Jaded

It’s only a matter of how.

So naturally, Awkward Olli starts listing off options. “I could blow you, like before. Or you could blow me, and jerk yourself? Or I could jerk us both. Or you could. Mutual jerking? Sixty-nine?”

“What about sex?” he asks, and his eyes flick up to hold mine. “Like, all the way. Penetrative sex.”

My breath catches, squeezing my chest painfully tight again. “You want to do me? Or I could do you, but that might be a lot for a first-timer. But like, I can do both, I like both, and both are honestly pretty enjoyable but because—um. Crap. I’m babbling.”

He shuts me up with a kiss. “Yes. You are.”

“Shocking, I know.”

He grins against my mouth. Kisses me again. “Doesn’t make me want to fuck you any less.”

Damn, those words. The insinuation. I’m starting to feel a little dizzy with want. Still—“Are you sure?”

“Very sure.” His eyes flit upwards, away from me. “Besides. I’ve had anal before.”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess that makes sense.” Way to continuously be awkward, Olli. “Can you say it again, though? The first part I mean, not the part about—oh, my God, I'll stop—”

“I want to fuck you, Olli James.” And then his hands sweep under my legs and around my back and he’s standing. Lifting me up into his arms like a fainting damsel, which okay, that’s pretty hot. Him carrying me into his bedroom is hot as hell.

He lays me down on the bed, so gently it makes me realize just how goddamn strong he is, and then he’s climbing on top of me, caging me between his arms. And it’s just me and him, all over again.

Me and him.

He lowers himself down, not all the way, but enough that our bodies align, that I feel every curve of his muscles, every line and angle of bone and tendon. So I feel the very obvious way his cock says he wants more.

He kisses me.

Hard and heavy and hot, wet and tangled, and his hips rock into me. And honestly, I could do this until we both come, except I want more.

I crawl my fingers down to his waist and tug at the hem of his shirt. Lifting it up, tugging again, until he sits up and sweeps it over his head, leaving his chest bare to me.

He starts to lean back down, but I set a hand to his stomach in protest. “Let me look for a sec. I’m inspecting my conquest.”

He rolls his eyes, but his mouth twitches up at the corner. “This isn’t fair.”

“It’s gonna be even less fair in a second.” I let my eyes scrape slowly down the chiseled lines of his chest and abs, the tangled contours of ink and muscle. But my hands move faster. My fingers work the button of his pants while my eyes are still unraveling the neat cobblestones of his abdomen.

“Oh, you’re right,” he hisses as my fingers slide down the curve of his cock. “This is unfair.”

“And you can’t even tell me to stop, can you?” I squeeze gently, pulling another little hiss of breath from between his teeth. “Because you like it.”

“I do,” he says, his words pinched tight as my fingers slip beneath his waistband. His skin’s silky smooth beneath my touch, and I think I could spend all day touching him, looking at him, exploring his body.

“I like it a lot—shit.” His head tilts back as my hand sweeps down his length to curl around the head.

My fingers come away wet with precum. “You like when I touch you, Mouse?”

“Yes.” His chest billows with shallow breaths, and his head angles back down towards me. “But I want more.”

His hand sweeps beneath mine, and he lifts both my hands over my head. My shirt follows, the white cloth fluttering to the floor. And then it’s him looking at me, studying my body laid out across the bed beneath his gaze.

That gaze burns like wildfire, sweeping down my skin, burrowing into my bones. Leaving a brand against my soul.

But it’s nothing compared to the words that follow. “You’re fucking beautiful.”

“Me?” I almost laugh. “Have you looked in a mirror lately?”

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