Page 57 of Will to Run

“Sometimes I think maybe I want to have sex in a place where someone could catch me? How’s that for crazy?” It’s like he’s opened Pandora’s Box, and I’m just saying anything that comes to mind.

“Della, there is no shortage of kinks in the world. Everything you’ve mentioned so far would be considered a normal and healthy sex life.”

“Even public sex?”

“Yep.”

“Have you done that? Actually, don’t answer; I don’t want to know. ”

“I’ve done a lot,” he replies.

For the umpteenth time, I let my guard down with this man. “I want to be sleeping and have someone wake me up with sex, too,” I say before covering my face with my hands.

“Sounds delicious,” he assures me while pulling my hands away from my face. “When do you want to start?”

He looks at me with a gentle intensity that makes me think this is the best worst thing ever.

“Well, we already kind of did, right?” I joke.

“I guess we did. Let me rephrase, are we open season now then?”

“Yeah, I suppose we are.”

He brings his head to mine and kisses me in a way that makes me want to melt off the bed. It’s the same gentle intensity that he was giving me with his stare. It’s so intoxicating that when he pulls away, my body physically sways towards his because I don’t want it to stop.

“At the bar, when you asked me if I just jumped into bed with anyone, I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t. I’m wildly attracted to you, Della, and selfish. Very selfish. These next weeks are going to be as much for me as they are for you. Whatever happens between us isn’t me just checking off some boxes; it’s because I want this really fucking badly.”

“Probably not more than I want it, Jaxon,” I laugh.

“Well, tie then,” he concedes.

We are still tangled together, and my leg has found itself draped over his strong thigh, the one I got myself off on last night, when it hits me; I feel settled for the first time in a very long time. There’s something about this man that makes my heart slow down to breathe, but speed up with excitement, and maybe our time here is limited, but even having this taste… the taste of everything I could have missed, makes it worth it.

Though I want to stay in this spot indefinitely, I can’t deny I need the washroom, so I get up. While I’m in there, I rinse my mouth out with mouthwash because, although we’ve already made out this morning, I’d rather have some semblance of fresh breath if that continues. All the talk of the things I’ve wanted to do has my body humming in anticipation. I mean, I already know he’s excited too; I’ve felt him brush up against me. All I would have had to do is put my hand down.

When I come back, Jaxon takes his turn in the bathroom, and while I’m lying here, I’m thinking about lots of things. How nice the sheets I’ve sunken into are, how long we can lay here today, and and how to find the courage to make the move I want to to extend our time laying together. Next thing I know, he’s walking towards me with his dick pointing straight out. How does he pee with that thing?

Instead of climbing back into the top of the bed by me, he dives under the covers at the bottom of the bed. I think he’s going to creep up to be silly, but when he kisses my ankle bone, my entire body tenses. What is he doing? I can’t see him, but I feel him leaving a trail of kisses up my calf, over my knee, and onto my inner thigh.

My legs try to close because I’m nervous. The two times Tripp went down on me, he made it seem like scrubbing a toilet would be preferable to the act. I figured something wasn’t good; maybe I smelled, looked funny, or who knows. But it couldn’t have been good. Jaxon overrides my thoughts when he takes his big, calloused hands, splays them over my knees, and pulls them apart so they fall to the bed.

With my stomach in knots, my breath catches in my throat, and I hold it, waiting for judgment. I want to tell him about the contradiction in my brain that he doesn’t have to do this, but I’m also desperate to feel his mouth there. I’m not sure how he does it, but he manages to pull the blanket off his head and body, and when I look down, I see him between my thighs looking back at me with a predatory excitement.

“Did all that talk this morning get you excited?”

My head nods because I know I’m wet, I wonder if he can see it.

“How is it possible that everything from your head to your toes is perfect, but especially this right here?” he says as he deliberately drags his fingers up and down my slit, before he brushes over my clit with the tip of his finger.

I release the breath I’ve been holding because I have to gasp. I don’t know what’s going to come next. At least he said I look normal, perfect in fact, so the way I looked couldn’t have been the turn-off. I have to taste bad.

He circles it with the pad of his finger a few more times before he brings those fingers to my entrance. I try to move my hips to force the issue because the anticipation is making me crazy, but he doesn’t abide. Snickering as he pulls them away, he shows me the evidence of my arousal.

I’m not sure I’ve blinked since he first started this. My eyes are locked on him, wondering what he’s going to do. To my surprise, he puts those two fingers in his mouth, and pulls them out.

“Damn, you taste better than you look,” he says in the same seductive octave he had last night. My only response is to squeak.

When his head lowers again, I try to stay in the moment. He said I look perfect and taste good, but our brains don’t remember the good; they hold on to the bad to protect us. As his lips are trailing back up my thigh, I reach down to stop him.