Jaden
Page 49
I needed his touch. I just needed more of him.
“Sheldon,” he whispered against my lips.
I kissed him harder. There were words I wanted to say. They wanted to spill out, and I had to hold them back, not until I knew for sure, so I kissed him again, and again, and again. I didn’t stop kissing him. Not after his shirt was lifted free, not after I felt his skin against mine, and he was pressing me into the bed. Not after he trailed kisses down my throat, then to the valley between my breasts and over each of them. Not after he continued caressing me, not after his hands circled my breasts, cupping them and rubbing over my nipple. Not after his hand slid inside my shorts, and I felt him rest there, right at my entrance. He circled it with his finger, rubbing over it, and I was panting.
I was silently begging for more, but I still bit down on my lip. If I let those words slip out, I didn’t know what else would slip out. Then I felt his fingers move inside me, and he waited, stretching my insides.
I could only pant. I lay there, unable to do anything as overwhelming pleasure was coursing through me. With my eyelids so heavy, I looked down. He looked up. His mouth hovered over me, watching as his fingers continued sliding in and out, building. As our gazes held, his eyes were so damn dark, and then he lowered so his lips were there.
I almost screamed at the touch of them.
I reached out, needing to hold onto something. My hands first went to his shoulders, but he pressed his lips harder. His fingers kept moving, in and out.
“Corrigan,” I finally gasped. I could barely talk.
As his tongue swept over me, tasting me, my hand formed a fist on his shoulder. Without looking at me, he grabbed my hand and guided me to hold onto the headboard. My god. I kept panting. My body was overheated. The pleasure kept building and building. I didn’t know how much more I could take, but he kept going. His tongue and fingers. He kept stretching me, pushing harder, then he would wait and pause when I was near the edge. A beat would pass. I would come down a little, then he would work me back up.
When he finally allowed me to come, I was spent. I collapsed, and I gasped, drawing in mouthfuls of air and wave after wave rocked my body. I tingled everywhere, where he was still resting on me, where his fingers remained inside me, the slight kiss from his lips on my stomach.
I felt everywhere.
“Corrigan.” I wanted to return the favor, and I reached for him.
He shook his head, evading my hands. He grinned at me and said, “Hold on.” Then his fingers started again.
My hands clung to the headboard once again.
He never stopped. For the entire night, he would wait until I came. Then he would start again. When I would reach for him, and at one point, I wound my legs around him to hold him still so I could, he’d only grabbed my hands once more. Eventually, I was flipped over, and he started from behind.
I screamed into my bed.
I wanted the feel of him. I wanted the taste of him. But Corrigan held himself away from me. He pleased me until I fell asleep, completely exhausted from our night.
When I awoke, he was gone.
I sat up, seeing that it was morning, but I couldn’t move. My body was sore, but it felt satiated. Images of the night flashed in my mind again, coming at me with warp speed. I felt every climax again, every brush of his lips, every thrust of his fingers.
I closed my eyes, savoring the feeling of when he had finally moved up and rested himself against me. He didn’t go in. I begged him to, but he didn’t. That was when he stretched back over top of me. His hands dug into my hair, and he started to kiss me again. Our mouths fought against each other for control, but it was the delicious type of fight. No one won, not then, but as he grinded into me, I felt his swift intake of breath as he came.
I still wanted him in me. I reached down, but Corrigan caught my hand.
He panted against me, saying, “Not until you choose.”
His words should’ve drenched me in reality, with what we were doing and Bryce in the room next door, but they didn’t. I turned to him. My mouth opened. I was ready to choose right then and there, but he shook his head. “No, Sheldon.”
“Why?” I was aching inside.
“Because you haven’t let him in yet.”
“What?”
“You have to drop the wall. You have to let him in. Only then you can really know.” He spoke so softly, holding the side of my face as he gazed down at me with such tenderness. “The wall will come down now or later, but it will one day. I don’t want to be with you when it does. You need to embrace all those feelings you’ve locked up.”
But I couldn’t. I tried to explain it to him. No matter how much I tried, the wall was there . . . except it wasn’t. There’d been a time when it was gone between him and me. Bryce had been the old Bryce. And I’d been so scared then. Hell, I had been terrified.
I couldn’t argue with what Corrigan was saying so I only sighed and rested my head against his chest. He held me there, his arm stroking up and down my arm for the rest of the night.
I wanted to tell him that Bryce and I had our time. That it hadn’t worked, and it probably wouldn’t any more, but I couldn’t.
“Sheldon?”
Bryce tapped on my door. I braced myself. Guilt, regret. I knew they were coming at the sound of his voice, but they didn’t. I felt nothing except gratefulness. I was thankful for the night.—”Sheldon?”
He started to turn the knob.
My eyes bulged out. “Uh . . . wait!” I cursed, needing to lower the panic in my voice. “I mean, let me get dressed.”
“Oh. Yeah.”
Cursing, I hurried to change. Then sprayed perfume on me at the last moment. Shit. I smelled like sex. I knew I did, but I was already going for the door. Turning the handle, I opened it, and Bryce straightened from where he’d been leaning. His gaze raked over me, then his jaw firmed.
He asked, “Do you want me to leave?”
“What?”
“Leave. Do you want me to leave?” He indicated his room. “You chose, Sheldon.”
“Oh.” My god. I smacked my forehead. “No, I’m sorry. I—I was mad. I took it out on you. I . . .” my stomach dropped. “I’m so sorry, Bryce. I didn’t choose last night. I—”
He waved a hand, cutting me off. “Okay.” He nodded to himself. “Okay.”
“I . . .” I had no fucking idea what to say. “Corrigan says I have a wall blocking you. He said I won’t let you in because I don’t want to feel stuff.”
“Sheldon,” he whispered against my lips.
I kissed him harder. There were words I wanted to say. They wanted to spill out, and I had to hold them back, not until I knew for sure, so I kissed him again, and again, and again. I didn’t stop kissing him. Not after his shirt was lifted free, not after I felt his skin against mine, and he was pressing me into the bed. Not after he trailed kisses down my throat, then to the valley between my breasts and over each of them. Not after he continued caressing me, not after his hands circled my breasts, cupping them and rubbing over my nipple. Not after his hand slid inside my shorts, and I felt him rest there, right at my entrance. He circled it with his finger, rubbing over it, and I was panting.
I was silently begging for more, but I still bit down on my lip. If I let those words slip out, I didn’t know what else would slip out. Then I felt his fingers move inside me, and he waited, stretching my insides.
I could only pant. I lay there, unable to do anything as overwhelming pleasure was coursing through me. With my eyelids so heavy, I looked down. He looked up. His mouth hovered over me, watching as his fingers continued sliding in and out, building. As our gazes held, his eyes were so damn dark, and then he lowered so his lips were there.
I almost screamed at the touch of them.
I reached out, needing to hold onto something. My hands first went to his shoulders, but he pressed his lips harder. His fingers kept moving, in and out.
“Corrigan,” I finally gasped. I could barely talk.
As his tongue swept over me, tasting me, my hand formed a fist on his shoulder. Without looking at me, he grabbed my hand and guided me to hold onto the headboard. My god. I kept panting. My body was overheated. The pleasure kept building and building. I didn’t know how much more I could take, but he kept going. His tongue and fingers. He kept stretching me, pushing harder, then he would wait and pause when I was near the edge. A beat would pass. I would come down a little, then he would work me back up.
When he finally allowed me to come, I was spent. I collapsed, and I gasped, drawing in mouthfuls of air and wave after wave rocked my body. I tingled everywhere, where he was still resting on me, where his fingers remained inside me, the slight kiss from his lips on my stomach.
I felt everywhere.
“Corrigan.” I wanted to return the favor, and I reached for him.
He shook his head, evading my hands. He grinned at me and said, “Hold on.” Then his fingers started again.
My hands clung to the headboard once again.
He never stopped. For the entire night, he would wait until I came. Then he would start again. When I would reach for him, and at one point, I wound my legs around him to hold him still so I could, he’d only grabbed my hands once more. Eventually, I was flipped over, and he started from behind.
I screamed into my bed.
I wanted the feel of him. I wanted the taste of him. But Corrigan held himself away from me. He pleased me until I fell asleep, completely exhausted from our night.
When I awoke, he was gone.
I sat up, seeing that it was morning, but I couldn’t move. My body was sore, but it felt satiated. Images of the night flashed in my mind again, coming at me with warp speed. I felt every climax again, every brush of his lips, every thrust of his fingers.
I closed my eyes, savoring the feeling of when he had finally moved up and rested himself against me. He didn’t go in. I begged him to, but he didn’t. That was when he stretched back over top of me. His hands dug into my hair, and he started to kiss me again. Our mouths fought against each other for control, but it was the delicious type of fight. No one won, not then, but as he grinded into me, I felt his swift intake of breath as he came.
I still wanted him in me. I reached down, but Corrigan caught my hand.
He panted against me, saying, “Not until you choose.”
His words should’ve drenched me in reality, with what we were doing and Bryce in the room next door, but they didn’t. I turned to him. My mouth opened. I was ready to choose right then and there, but he shook his head. “No, Sheldon.”
“Why?” I was aching inside.
“Because you haven’t let him in yet.”
“What?”
“You have to drop the wall. You have to let him in. Only then you can really know.” He spoke so softly, holding the side of my face as he gazed down at me with such tenderness. “The wall will come down now or later, but it will one day. I don’t want to be with you when it does. You need to embrace all those feelings you’ve locked up.”
But I couldn’t. I tried to explain it to him. No matter how much I tried, the wall was there . . . except it wasn’t. There’d been a time when it was gone between him and me. Bryce had been the old Bryce. And I’d been so scared then. Hell, I had been terrified.
I couldn’t argue with what Corrigan was saying so I only sighed and rested my head against his chest. He held me there, his arm stroking up and down my arm for the rest of the night.
I wanted to tell him that Bryce and I had our time. That it hadn’t worked, and it probably wouldn’t any more, but I couldn’t.
“Sheldon?”
Bryce tapped on my door. I braced myself. Guilt, regret. I knew they were coming at the sound of his voice, but they didn’t. I felt nothing except gratefulness. I was thankful for the night.—”Sheldon?”
He started to turn the knob.
My eyes bulged out. “Uh . . . wait!” I cursed, needing to lower the panic in my voice. “I mean, let me get dressed.”
“Oh. Yeah.”
Cursing, I hurried to change. Then sprayed perfume on me at the last moment. Shit. I smelled like sex. I knew I did, but I was already going for the door. Turning the handle, I opened it, and Bryce straightened from where he’d been leaning. His gaze raked over me, then his jaw firmed.
He asked, “Do you want me to leave?”
“What?”
“Leave. Do you want me to leave?” He indicated his room. “You chose, Sheldon.”
“Oh.” My god. I smacked my forehead. “No, I’m sorry. I—I was mad. I took it out on you. I . . .” my stomach dropped. “I’m so sorry, Bryce. I didn’t choose last night. I—”
He waved a hand, cutting me off. “Okay.” He nodded to himself. “Okay.”
“I . . .” I had no fucking idea what to say. “Corrigan says I have a wall blocking you. He said I won’t let you in because I don’t want to feel stuff.”
