Page 98 of Powerless
He bends down and kisses me, tugging my wet hair to angle my head. This kiss isn’t soft or searching—it’s claiming.
When he decides it’s done, he pulls away and growls in my ear, “You’re the only one, Sloane. Don’t ever doubt that.”
His tone hedges no debate but I blurt out, “I know there have been—”
He cuts me off with a dismissive shake of his head. “We’re both adults, Sloane. Let’s not pretend we haven’t lived our lives. We’ve both been with other people. But the real question is . . .”
His thumb strokes my jawline as he tugs the towel away, exposing my body to him while his eyes devour every inch.
“The real question is, do any of those other people matter when I only ever see you? When I only ever think about you? When I’ve done nothing but become more and more obsessed with you since I was told to stay away from you?”
I whimper. Or moan. Or make some sort of noise you might make when someone punches you in the gut.
“Do they, Sloane? Do they matter? Does any of that seem like it matters in the face of what you and I have happening right now? In the face of eighteen years of friendship? In the face of wanting each other for so long? Is a single other person even a factor? Even a blip on the radar?”
“No,” I whisper instantly. When he puts it like that, no.
No. No. No. No. No.
“None of it matters.”
“That’s right.” His fingers trail over my lips. “The answer is no. None of that shit matters. Because we’re me and you. We’re us. Unlikely and inevitable all at once. We’re forever.”
I nod, willing away the sudden sting in my eyes. Because Jasper isn’t an overly emotional man, and that might be the first time I’vereallyheard him admit what this all means to him.
What I mean to him.
With a quick squeeze to my throat, he murmurs against my hair, “Now hang your head off the edge of this bed and open your mouth.”
I watch in rapt fascination as his impressive cock bobs over me, his boxers discarded. Last night he shoved me to my knees and told me how to suck his cock, just like I asked him to. I came from his dirty words and the pressure of my thighs squeezing together while I sucked him off. It was definitely the first time anyonetalkedme into an orgasm.
I lick my lips as he drops his cock to my face and gently adjusts my positioning. Then he’s propped over my body, hands braced on the bed on either side of me.
The panels of his button-down shirt fall like curtains on either side of my face. I open my mouth eagerly, and his smooth length slides between my lips. His fresh and earthy scent swirls around me. It’s a heady combination.
“Play with your tits, Sloane. I wanna watch you while I take your mouth.”
I moan on his length and start plumping my breasts. Tweaking my nipples. Losing my mind as he sets a slow rhythm between my lips.
This angle is new for me, and my eyes water from how far back he’s able to push, but he’s always careful with me. Careful not to push too hard or too far. Careful not to hurt me or alarm me.
And yet he pushes me further than anyone ever has, which I love. At school I pushed myself harder. With ballet too.
“So fucking good. This hot little mouth, Sloane. Sucking dick like you were born for it. You have no idea how good you feel wrapped around my cock. It’s fucking addicting.”
He thrusts in hard, and I make a light gagging noise, tears blurring my vision as I pinch my nipples. “That too far, honey?”
I shake my head vigorously and hum on his length, squeezing my legs together and feeling the wetness between them slip. I mean, it is too far—logistically speaking.
But I’m into it. Really, really into it.
He chuckles, hand shaping my waist. “So fucking hungry.” His fingers rap lightly on the top of my thigh. “Open for me.”
His hand presses to the inside of my thigh, guiding it back to the bed so that I’m completely exposed to him as he steadily fucks my mouth. Far, but not so far that I gag again.
“Whose pussy is this, Sloane?”
He slaps it, and I can hear how wet I am over my moans. I offer a muffled “yours” from around his cock since he doesn’t pull back to offer me a reprieve.
