“I like it soft at first.” The tips of her fingers glide along the swollen bud of her sex as her other hand trails over her nipple. “A barely there tease that makes me want more.”

She shifts her hips, chasing her own finger, and I swear to all that’s holy, I whimper.

“Usually,” she murmurs, “I do this until I feel slick. But I’m so wet now—”

“Jesus,” I exhale in a rush. “I can hear it. I hear your fingers sliding over that wet pussy.”

Stella’s breath hitches. Her gaze collides with mine, all heat and dazed lust. “You’re supposed to be doing this with me.”

Frankly, I’m afraid if I touch my dick now it will explode, but I did promise. My hand freaking shakes as I lift it to my mouth. Hell, I love the way her eyes go wide when I give my palm a slow lick before I take myself in hand. I’m hot to the touch and so hard my dick is sore. I give myself a squeeze to ease the pressure before I rasp, “I start slow and firm, like I’m pushing into a woman.”

Stella nods, watching with an avid interest that lights me up. Her thighs part just a fraction, as if she isn’t really aware of doing it, and I almost roll over and sink into her. It would be so easy, so good. But I don’t. Because she wants this experience, and as worked up as I am, I want it too.

“What do you think about?” she asks in the dark. “When you do it?”

“You.” I’m stroking faster now, getting into a rhythm. “Since that first night, it’s only been you.”

She moans, her head lolling on the pillow. She’s working herself faster too, moving her fingers in harsh, sloppy circles, abusing her little kitty. The urge to kiss it all better has me leaning closer. Our breaths mingle as we pant. I’m jacking my dick hard now, the tension in me building.

“Tell me,” she says. “Tell me what you imagine.”

For a second, I blank out. I’m going to disappoint her. She’ll have expectations. But her eyes are full of desire and trust. She looks at me like I’m the best thing she’s ever seen. Me, not the shell or the name. It flays me open and raw. It heightens my awareness of everything, the rumpled sheets around my legs, the sweat trickling down my back, the friction of my hand along my dick and the sound it makes. My breath saws in and out, drying my mouth.

I lick my lips. “Truth?”

Her answer is a husk of sound. “Always.”

“I think of watching myself slide into you. Imagine sinking into your heat.” My voice goes rougher, my balls drawing up tight and sweet. “That first push when I take you, knowing that you’re letting me. That’s is. I think of having you. Finally, fucking having you. That’s the moment I dream about.”

She moans, her lips parting weakly.

“Oh, fuck, Stells, please come. Come for me, honey.”

She does. And she’s so damn beautiful, I can’t speak. Her lip is caught between her teeth, her thighs clenched around her hand, a silent scream pinching her features. She arches her back, thrusting her tits high, those gorgeous tits. I can’t help myself. I swoop down and capture a nipple with my mouth, sucking hard.

Stella jolts with a small cry and pushes against me, silently demanding more. I suck her like a man starved. I don’t even realize I’m coming until I feel it hot and wet on my hand, hitting my stomach. For a long moment, I slump on her, my mouth open and panting against her trembling breast. I give her a lingering lick that makes her whimper before I roll away, landing on my back with a heavy exhale.

We lay there, both of us breathing hard in the silent dark. Rain taps at the windows, the room still as if nothing happened, as though my world didn’t turn over on its head. Stella moves, righting her clothes with clumsy fumbles. I grab a tissue from the box sitting on the side table and wipe myself off, aware that she’s watching me do it. Weird how I find that sexy too.

“Wow,” she says softly, and I know she isn’t talking about my cleaning up.

I toss the tissue into the trash can, pull up my boxers, and roll onto my side to face her. She’s staring up at the ceiling, her hair mussed. As if feeling my gaze, she turns her head and a small smile quirks her lips. She doesn’t say anything, just looks.

“Stells.” My fingers trace the curve of her jaw. Her skin is warm and damp, and I cup her cheek before resting my head on a pillow.

She moves my way, cuddling close. She smells of sex and sweat and something freshly sweet. I draw it in, closing my eyes. Why does this feel so good? Just this.

I need to find a way to hold onto this feeling, to keep it safe. I have no idea how to do that. It feels essential that I learn.

“John?”

“Yeah?” I toy with her satiny hair, twisting a strand around my finger.

“If we don’t fuck each other’s brains out when we get home, I’m going to have to kill you.”

I stiffen for a second, then burst out laughing, trying to keep it low. She squeezes my side, and I lean further into her. “Fuck yeah, we are, Button.”

Like that, I’m counting down the minutes.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Stella

* * *

“I hope you slept well, Jax.” Corinne sets a mug of coffee on the table for him.

At my side, Hank grunts and cuts a glare at John. I bite the inside of my mouth. Last night, we’d fallen asleep wrapped up in each other, only to wake with Hank standing over John, giving him the stink eye. “I don’t know why I bothered.”

“Yes, ma’am, I did.” John shovels a huge bite of buttery pancake into his mouth, smartly keeping his eyes on his plate, but there’s a tiny smile playing on the edges of his lips. Beneath the table, his knee bounces an agitated rhythm. Since we’re sitting close, his thigh lightly rubs against mine. That small contact zings along my skin.

Memories of what we did drift through my head, making it hard to concentrate on anything. I keep seeing his rippled torso clenching, ropy muscles on his forearm shifting and flexing as he worked his hard cock. God, he has a nice cock. Rounded head, a thick shaft that curves just a little to the right.

Heat washes over my skin. Stop thinking about his dick at the table. That is so wrong. Twisted, Stells. Twisted.

And foolish. All I can think about now is John pleasuring himself, his plump balls bouncing against his fist with each downstroke, his face tight with concentration, and his lips soft with panting. It had been the most glorious thing I’d ever seen. I want to see it again. In full daylight. Maybe in slow motion. On repeat.

Good God, does Corinne have the heat on or something?

I take a hasty sip of coffee and it burns the back of my throat.

John’s green eyes narrow at the sound of my small gurgle. “You okay, Button?”

No. I’m so horny my lower belly hurts, and I’m fantasizing about making movies featuring your dick.

Weakly, I smile and pick up a piece of perfectly cooked bacon. “Great.”

John’s eyes hold mine, and his small smile grows a little devious. I doubt he’s having movie-making fantasies, but he’s definitely thinking about last night. The pink tip of his tongue sneaks out to catch an errant dot of syrup on his lower lip. It’s all I can do not to lick him too.

We need to get out of here.

His knee keeps bouncing, a frenetic jostle that’s beginning to rattle the table. I set my hand on his thigh, and he instantly stills. His hand covers mine and squeezes.