“That’s right.” His voice is so low I almost don’t hear him. There’s too much. I feel too much.
He’s too much.
His expert fingers run through my core, and my hips buck toward him, lifting from the bed. I’m ready to come, ready to let him pull me apart piece by piece and watch it happen.
If I’ve learned anything in the last couple of days, it’s that Jasper enjoys telling me what to do and watching me do it.
That alone can get him hard. That alone can get me wet. So I guess it works for us. Just like this position does.
His cock is in my mouth and he’s matching that rhythm between my legs with only one finger. It’s not enough. I want more. I want that fullness when I explode. And I’m so damn close.
My body must give me away, the arousal dripping down my legs a perfect match for the saliva on my cheek.
“Do you love me stuffing you full, Sloane? It seems like you do.” He leans forward, pressing his wicked mouth to the top of my bare pussy. “Seems like you’ve been spoiled though.”
His scruff hits all the right nerves as he dusts his mouth over my lower stomach and makes me writhe beneath him. “A spoiled little princess who needs to learn some patience.”
With one last kiss to my navel, he withdraws from my body.
From the bed, from my space, from my mouth.
He leaves me empty, throbbing, and so fucking needy.
“Jasper!” I whimper his name. “Are you kidding me right now?”
I hear the rustling of clothes behind me before he says, “Let’s go, Sunny. We need to hit the road.”
“I just need—"
“Sloane.” The cool tone in his voice stops my hand from sliding further down my body. “I know I don’t need to tell you that you’re only allowed to touch my pussy when I say so.”
I can’t help it. I laugh and throw my hands over my face in exasperation. “Lord help me, Gervais. I wish I could go back and tell my teenage self what she’s in for ten years down the line. She’d have keeled over on the spot.”
I hear his deep chuckle, the one that warms me to my bones. The one that reminds me of the adolescent, bashful version of him. The one that’s still a facet of the complicated man he is today.
“If you go back, make sure you tell her she’s got drool on her face and that it’s time to get her fine ass out of bed.”
“I hate you,” I laugh back at him.
But I always laugh at the wrong moment. And right now I laugh because I don’t hate Jasper at all.
I love him. I love him like that girl ten years ago never could have imagined.
“Are you missing dancing?”
Our conversation started off stilted on our long drive home because all I could think about was holding Jasper down and riding his cock until I got this pesky consuming orgasm out of the way. Eventually his erection subsided and his jeans became less strained. Sadly for me, I think my underwear might not be salvageable.
But then we started talking about hockey, and I got interested in something besides the ache between my legs. He told me about his plans for when he gets back to Calgary. The training. The sports therapy. He eats specific types of meals, which sound like an awful lot of turkey and salmon.
His excitement is infectious. It’s so easy to get caught up in him when he’s animated and carefree like he is right now.
The sun is shining and the roads are perfect.
I cherish these moments with him.
“Not like I thought I might. Or well, I should say that I was, but I think I was only missing it because I would have rather been running through the same mindless choreography repeatedly while getting yelled at in Russian than planning a wedding to someone I didn’t want to marry.”
Oof. I really know how to kill a relaxed moment, don’t I? Jasper’s hands constrict momentarily on the steering wheel, and the silence is thick. I try to keep myself from laughing at how I just waltzed in and dropped an A-bomb on our happy drive without even trying.
But an amused little giggle slips out all the same.
“Good lord, Sunny.” Jasper’s lips quirk and his head shakes.
I laugh into my hands for a minute before regaining my composure. “Anyway, for the last couple of weeks, I haven’t missed it the same way. I’ve been sad but not stressed, if that makes any sense? I wanted to dance to get all the anxiety out of my body, to tire myself out enough that I wouldn’t think too hard. But dancing in Summer’s gym was . . . relaxing somehow. No one watched. I played whatever music I wanted. I did whatever choreography I wanted. I just got to be myself, and that was therapeutic, I think. No one telling me what I can and can’t do.”
“Until I rolled around,” Jasper grumbles darkly.
I laugh lightly and reach over the console, hoping I can pass off accidentally rubbing his dick as a reassuring pat on the leg.
My hand lands on his muscled quad, sliding inward. “Yeah, but the difference is I like it when you do it. I want it when you do it. I told you to do it.”
His cheek twitches under the strain of hiding a smile. My fingers inch further down between his legs, my pinky shifting out to trail down his impressive length.
“Sunny.”
I peek up at him, plastering an expression of faux innocence on my face. “Yeah, Jas?”
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Patting your leg?” I roll my lips together, keeping my eyes as wide as possible.
“This innocent look on your face is adorable when only a few hours ago I hung your head off that four-poster bed and watched you choke on my cock.”
Warm splotches crop up on my face immediately. Placing one hand over my chest, I lean away from him dramatically. “I am scandalized.”
“Yeah.” He chuckles, peeking up to the rearview mirror. “You’re about to be. Get back in your seat and lose the pants.”
My heartbeat thrums in my ears. “What about you?”
“What about me? I’m driving.”
“Aren’t you uncomfortable?”
“I’ve been fighting off getting hard around you for years. I’ll be fine. Pants off. I’m already tired of waiting.”
I blink once. Years. How did I not notice? Did I convince myself so thoroughly he would never be interested in me that I stopped really looking at him?
The answer is yes. It got to the point where it almost hurt to look at him that closely. To think about things that specifically.
“Sloane.” His voice is authoritative, and that’s “The Daddy” voice, I decide. There’s a switch that gets flicked and he goes from quiet, aloof Jasper to that.
Whatever the voice is, it catapults me into action. My boots are already off, and I pull away the soft thermal socks, dropping them in the footwell before lifting my heavy wool sweater’s hem and peeling the black leggings from my body. His eyes stay on the road, but when I go to discard my panties, he says, “No, those stay.”
“But they’re—”
“An uncomfortable reminder of how desperate you are?”
“Ha.” I laugh bursts from my lips. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it.”
A smug smirk graces his lips as he peeks over at me briefly. “Good.”
I groan and tip my head back against the seat, bare thighs squeezed together while I wait. When no further directions come, I glance at him. “What now?”