Chapter 53: CHLOE

“This doesn’t change anything. I’m still mad at you,” I gasped when his mouth left mine to pepper kisses along my neck.

Jason’s hands found my waist easily, pulling me in until there was no space left between us. His mouth moved back up to find mine, snaking past my lips and kissing me like he was afraid I would disappear again.

And God help me, in that moment, I forgot why I was angry with him.

His hand came up to cradle the side of my face, his thumb brushing beneath my cheekbone as his mouth moved against mine in a move as strange as it was familiar.

This was the Jason I knew — the one I understood. Every little shift of his lips on mine, every quiet groan … the way his fingers flexed and he shuddered when I pulled him even closer — if that were possible.

His arms tightened around me, his hands snaking down to cup my ass intimately against the hardness pressing against his jeans.

I pushed against his chest, the fog in my head clearing only a little. He pulled back immediately, taking another step closer and eating up the space between us until we were breathing the same air.

“I’m still angry with you,” I whispered again, hating how my voice came out shaky.

His eyes searched mine, dark and uncertain, looking for whatever answers I didn’t have. “I know,” he whispered back.

It felt good to know I wasn’t the only one affected by our closeness.

Searching my eyes, his hand left its grip on my butt to unsnap the button on my jeans.

“This won’t fix anything,” I said, holding his gaze.

“Don’t say that,” he replied, and kissed me again, deeper, before I could respond.

My fingers curled into the front of his shirt, and I got on tiptoes to better reach his lips. Our tongues danced a dance as old as we were.

A low groan escaped him, reverberating against his chest and travelling up to my lips as he walked me backwards without breaking the kiss. The backs of my knees hit the edge of the bed, and I sat, hard, my lips breaking from the lip-lock.

I scooted back, and he followed, one knee between mine, panting with lips as rosy as mine must have been. Bracing himself over me as the mattress dipped, his eyes met mine as he tugged at the hem of my sweater.

“Off,” he growled, and I creamed my panties a little.

Fuck, this was really happening.

I raised my hands, and he pulled the soft gray fabric over my head. The cool air of the room brushed against me for half a second before his hands replaced it, warming my skin — and mapping the line of my ribs, the curve of my breasts still covered by the thin bralette I’d thrown on earlier.

Jason’s gaze fixated on my chest, then slipped up to my face. His eyes were darker, burning with something hot — the way they usually were when he was aroused.

There were no words. Jason had a feminine kind of beauty — the kind artists could only speak of in their paintings. I could stare at him for hours on end and still wouldn’t get my fill.

He lowered his head and closed his mouth over one nipple through the fabric. I arched my back against the wet heat of him, a soft moan slipping out of me before I could catch it.

He sucked on my nipple for a while before he released it with a loud pop, and worked the bralette off with more patience than I’d expected. When his mouth returned to bare skin, the sensation was better, sharper, and I felt an answering wetness pool between my legs. There’d always been an invisible connection between my nipples and my pussy.

I threaded my fingers through his hair, pulling just a little, and holding him in place while his tongue traced slow circles that made my thighs press together against his lean, muscular thigh between them.

He shifted his lips to the neglected nipple, while his fingers found the wet, rosy tip of the left. His free hand shifted down to my jeans, and lowered the zipper, the sound roaring in my ears. I lifted my hips so he could tug the denim down, taking my underwear with it.

I moaned yet again as my pussy clenched on exposure to the chill. But by the time he covered me, cupping and pressing on my clit, the cold was long forgotten.

Jason came up to press his lips against mine, roughly tongue fucking me in as though he were mimicking what he wanted to do to my other lip. Releasing me temporarily from his mental assault, he rested his forehead against mine, watching the pleasure dance over my face as his fingers moved — slow, deliberate strokes that made my breath come shorter.

Moaning helplessly, I rocked against his hand, the sound of his fingers gliding through me almost obscene. When he slipped one inside me, my eyes fluttered shut.

A low sound left his throat, almost a growl. “Look at me,” he said, his voice hard and firm. “Look who’s making you feel this good in the eye.”

My eyes peeled open and found his, helpless to do anything but obey.

“Say my name,” he said again, watching me intently.

“Jason,” I said, and then moaned loudly as he curled his fingers and hit the spot that made me jerk.

He kept the rhythm steady, not letting up for even a moment, thumb circling the swollen bud above my opening. I was mindless with pleasure now, my thighs thrashing uncontrollably. When the first wave hit like a freight train, it rolled through me hard enough that my back left the sheets. I came with a sharp inhale that turned into a quiet and prolonged moan.

“Let me hear you, babe,” he said, working me through it, slowing only when the tremors eased, then withdrawing his fingers.

I lay there breathing hard and staring with glassy eyes at the ceiling, the last pulses of my orgasm still fluttering through me.

Fuck, it’d been too damn long.

Jason shifted his weight, kneeling between my legs to pull his shirt over his head. The sight of his bare chest got my engines revving again. He undid his belt, and I tugged at his jeans, tearing the zipper down before he could.

Jason chuckled at my impatience, helping me shove his jeans and boxers down in one motion. His cock already thick and dripping with precum slapped against the hard planes of his stomach. I reached for him, drawn to his sheer maleness, and stroked his length, watching his abs tighten in response.

Licking my lips, I leaned forward on my elbows to take him into my mouth — only he dodged my touch, arching his hips back.

I pouted, cause I was so mature and all…

“I’ll blow if you so much as breathe on me, babe,” Jason said, rubbing my cheek affectionately.

Settling over me, he spread my thighs farther apart, stroking himself with the other. He shuffled forward, then I felt the blunt head of his cock nudging against my entrance.

I raised my head, my eyes widening as I watched him sink into me in one slow, continuous thrust that stole the air from my lungs. My pussy fluttered around him, the stretch just right — full and deep, bordering on ‘too much’ in the best way possible. Jason bottomed out and stood still for a moment, breathing hard, his forehead pressed to mine again.

Then, as if he knew I was getting restless, he began to move — slowly at first, like he was measuring his strokes. The feel of every delicious inch of him dragging against my sensitive walls almost drove me to madness.

And gosh, was I dripping.

My legs came up around his waist of their own accord, and with the new angle, he sank even deeper into me. Jason’s rhythm built gradually — one of his hands sliding under my back to tilt me just right so every thrust was hitting that sweet spot, while the other braced beside my head.

I almost sobbed with the pleasure coursing through me. It wasn’t like this… It had never been like this between us. I mean, I’d always heard makeup sex was the best kind of sex, but I’d never really experienced it.

I’d had it rough, and I’d had it slow and sweet. I think it was safe to say this was my favorite kind of sex — this dicking down I was currently getting from Jason.

It was almost as though he’d unleashed his wild side. Whatever it was, I really hoped it stayed this way, because damn!

His mouth found the side of my neck, hot and open, occasionally catching the skin between his teeth in a bite hard enough to sting, but which somehow made the entire experience only better. My nails dug into the muscles of his shoulders, and he groaned, driving into me harder; the headboard began knocking against the wall with every thrust.

The second orgasm, unlike the first, sneaked up on me, starting in my thighs and traveling upward, until it finally broke when he reached between us to pinch my clit. I came with a broken cry, clamping down hard on him, my body shaking through the waves.

“Fuck, I’m coming,” Jason gasped, and a few thrusts later, his rhythm stuttered, hips pressing flush against mine as he buried himself deep and came with a rough groan against my neck. I felt him pulse in me, hot, as his seed battered my insides. Afterward, he collapsed on me, his body solid and warm above me as he slowly relaxed.

For a long moment, neither of us moved from our orgasm-induced coma, our deep breathing the only sound — and a soft meow from Tiny, who was seated on the coffee table, watching us eerily.

“Fuck, I can’t believe we did it with Tiny in the room,” I laughed and ran my hands over his sweat-slicked back.

Jason’s chest rumbled as he chuckled lightly. I brushed some errant strands of his hair back as he lifted his head, staring deeply into my eyes.

“Come back with me, Chloe,” he murmured, caressing my cheeks.

Here we go again…