Page 84 of Chasing The Goal
He didn’t hesitate. Just hooked his fingers in my underwear, pulled them down slow, and kissed the inside of my knee like I was something sacred. His stubble scratched a path higher, grazing the inside of my thigh, making my whole body shiver.
“I'm gonna make you fall apart for me,” he muttered, hands spreading my legs wide, holding me open. “Wanna feel you shake on my tongue.”
“Jaymie—”
He didn’t wait.
His mouth was on me, hot and sure and filthy in the best way. He licked and sucked and groaned like he was addicted to the taste of me. Like he needed this as badly as I did. One of my hands flew back to brace against the counter. The other threaded into his hair, anchoring me while my hips jerked with every pass of his tongue.
“Jesus,” I gasped. “You’re gonna make me…”
He moaned into me. “That’s the point, baby. I want you messy. I want you loud. I want to hear you scream my name. ”
I came with a broken sound, thighs trembling around his shoulders, my body curling forward as the orgasm crashed over me.
When he stood, his mouth was slick, his eyes wild, and he kissed me like he wanted to brand me with it.
“You’re so fucking beautiful when you come.”
I dragged him in by the collar, my voice hoarse. “Couch. Now.”
He didn’t argue.
He carried me, lifting me off the edge of the counter like I was a feather, laughing under his breath, to the living room and sat down hard, settling me with him. I straddled him, one knee on each side of his thighs, my hands gripping the top of the couch.
“Look at you,” he whispered, running his hands up the backs of my thighs, under the hoodie. “So fucking perfect.”
I reached between us, guided him in, slow and deep, both of us gasping at the stretch.
He gripped my hips, tight and grounding, letting me set the pace. I moved over him—slow, deliberate, grinding down with each pass, the angle driving him deeper than I thought possible. His head fell back with a groan. He pulled on the hem of the sweatershirt “God, Mal—just like that. Take this hoodie off, I want to see you fully when you ride me. Fuck—you feel so good. So tight.”
I moved harder, chasing it, drowning in the sound of skin on skin, in the way his hands squeezed and steadied and worshipped every inch of me.
“I can’t—shit, I’m—”
“Let go,” he said, voice thick. “Come on, baby. Come for me again.”
I shattered, again my body trembling. And he followed with a curse, his arms wrapping around my middle, his forehead pressed to my chest, like he couldn’t bear to let me go.
He didn’t say a word as he picked me up, cradled me against his chest, and carried me into his bathroom—into a space I’d never seen but now felt like a promise.
He set me on the edge of the tub, turned on the water, checked the temperature twice. Then he stepped in, reached for me, and pulled me under with him. He washed my hair. His fingers moved gently through the tangles, massaging my scalp, rinsing away the sweat, the moans, the everything. He kissed my shoulder. My back. The curve of my hip.
And then he turned me to face the tile. Pushed inside me with one deep, claiming thrust that stole the air from my lungs. My lips burned but stretched to accomodate his width. I was stuffed full in every sense of the word.
“Hold on,” he growled, one hand braced beside mine, the other spreading across my belly like he was marking his territory. “I need to feel you again. Need to give you all of it.”
He fucked me hard—each thrust deep and deliberate, his chest against my back, his breath ragged against my ear.
“Tell me you feel this,” he panted. “Tell me you know you’re mine.”
“I know,” I whispered, breaking. “Jaymie—please—” his fingers splayed down my belly further and found my clit. Working in circles, I could barely hold myself up between each thrust and circle of his finger. I could feel the pressure building at the base of my spine. Another moan left my lips and he came with a harsh, guttural sound, hips jerking, his fingers flexing where they held me. And when he pulled out, breathless and wrecked, he didn’t step back.
Just wrapped his arms around my middle, pressed a kiss to my shoulder, and rested his forehead there like he belonged.
Like he wanted to belong.
We didn’t say the words.
