I’ve
commanded myself against doing I ignore, so I can touch her.
I need to touch her.
I shift the lightweight sweater off her shoulder and look at
the prints of Luke’s fingers on her skin. For now, there’s a well
of silence as students are occupied with things between school
hours.
It’s just Jewell and me.
My mouth thins into an angry line. “You’ll have a bruise,” I
say, then seethe, “That bastard.” I drop my hands and clench my
fists. “He needs a real beat down.”
I realize I mean it and thank whatever’s holy that Adams
isn’t in front of me now.
I can’t stand the wounds on her body, I can’t stand not
touching them. As if I could erase their appearance.
Her lips curl into a sardonic smile. What can possibly be
funny?
“Was that a fake one?” Jewell asks, her lips curling as she
tries to lighten it all. “Do you always just show up at exactly the
right time for saving me, Cas?” She buries me with her eyes, her
question holding a weight only Jewell possesses.
I give her a slow nod as our eyes lock.
I can’t ignore the primal attraction that screams between
us any longer. I back Jewell against the wall, caging her in
with my hands spread beside her head, my fingers against the
rough brick of the wall. I can almost hear her heart speed, and
it makes me hard instantly. This is so wrong. She’s the subject.
But if it’s so wrong, why does her body feel so right?
5
I trap her against that rough surface, my fingers splayed
against the brick.
Mine.
“What are you doing?” Jewell asks, her breaths coming in
shallow almost gasps.
I trail a finger down her face, temple to jaw, then cup her
chin, forcing her eyes to meet mine.
“What I should have done the moment I saw you with
Maverick.”
I lean in until I can smell the heat off her skin like steam,
the light sweat that is the smell of female and heavens.
Uniquely Jewell.
“May I kiss you, Jess?” I whisper above her mouth. I
suddenly feel that I need her permission.
I feel her hesitation, her intellect struggling to reassert itself
against our chemistry. The animal magnetism roars for release,
and I see in her eyes when she frees it, giving her assent. “Yes,
you may,” she answers, just as quietly as her eyes flutter closed.
The word sets me loose, and I slam my mouth against hers,
dropping my hands to the small of her back, cupping the twin
bones into my palms where they fit like they’re custom-made
for my caress, and as I come up for air, I groan and sink back
down into her wet mouth, her gasping breaths coming shorter,
closer. Harder.
Her small hands clench and release me, the material of my
shirt bunching up in her fingers.
Still, there’s a piece of Jewell that resists, and I go after it
with the intensity that she provokes from me. “Respond,” I
growl in a warning. I’m commanding her to give in, to own
what her body’s begging from her.
Jewell moves deeper into the line of my body, molding
against me perfectly, and I wrap one hand around the tightness
of her ass, her leotard so thin that I can feel the heat and press
of her skin through the material. I jerk her harder against me
even as I pull away enough to palm her tit in my hand. Jewell
moans at the roughness as I soak in the verbal cue for what
it is: She’s liking it. She’s either inexperienced, or there’s a
wildness in Jewell that I draw out. With one hand on her ass, I
roll her nipple with the other in a supple flick and tweak, and a
soft whimper escapes her as she spreads her knees for me.
I move between them, pushing my dick between the cleft
she offers, and Jewell gasps out, “Cas. We shouldn’t here.” Her
breath warms my neck, her fingers kneading the bare skin of
my lats.
I can feel her split softly as I move against her, and my
fingers use each rib like a ladder, walking down, down, down
the rungs of delicately constructed bones until my hand
breaches the last frontier.
“Stop,” Jewel pleads as my hand hovers
commanded myself against doing I ignore, so I can touch her.
I need to touch her.
I shift the lightweight sweater off her shoulder and look at
the prints of Luke’s fingers on her skin. For now, there’s a well
of silence as students are occupied with things between school
hours.
It’s just Jewell and me.
My mouth thins into an angry line. “You’ll have a bruise,” I
say, then seethe, “That bastard.” I drop my hands and clench my
fists. “He needs a real beat down.”
I realize I mean it and thank whatever’s holy that Adams
isn’t in front of me now.
I can’t stand the wounds on her body, I can’t stand not
touching them. As if I could erase their appearance.
Her lips curl into a sardonic smile. What can possibly be
funny?
“Was that a fake one?” Jewell asks, her lips curling as she
tries to lighten it all. “Do you always just show up at exactly the
right time for saving me, Cas?” She buries me with her eyes, her
question holding a weight only Jewell possesses.
I give her a slow nod as our eyes lock.
I can’t ignore the primal attraction that screams between
us any longer. I back Jewell against the wall, caging her in
with my hands spread beside her head, my fingers against the
rough brick of the wall. I can almost hear her heart speed, and
it makes me hard instantly. This is so wrong. She’s the subject.
But if it’s so wrong, why does her body feel so right?
5
I trap her against that rough surface, my fingers splayed
against the brick.
Mine.
“What are you doing?” Jewell asks, her breaths coming in
shallow almost gasps.
I trail a finger down her face, temple to jaw, then cup her
chin, forcing her eyes to meet mine.
“What I should have done the moment I saw you with
Maverick.”
I lean in until I can smell the heat off her skin like steam,
the light sweat that is the smell of female and heavens.
Uniquely Jewell.
“May I kiss you, Jess?” I whisper above her mouth. I
suddenly feel that I need her permission.
I feel her hesitation, her intellect struggling to reassert itself
against our chemistry. The animal magnetism roars for release,
and I see in her eyes when she frees it, giving her assent. “Yes,
you may,” she answers, just as quietly as her eyes flutter closed.
The word sets me loose, and I slam my mouth against hers,
dropping my hands to the small of her back, cupping the twin
bones into my palms where they fit like they’re custom-made
for my caress, and as I come up for air, I groan and sink back
down into her wet mouth, her gasping breaths coming shorter,
closer. Harder.
Her small hands clench and release me, the material of my
shirt bunching up in her fingers.
Still, there’s a piece of Jewell that resists, and I go after it
with the intensity that she provokes from me. “Respond,” I
growl in a warning. I’m commanding her to give in, to own
what her body’s begging from her.
Jewell moves deeper into the line of my body, molding
against me perfectly, and I wrap one hand around the tightness
of her ass, her leotard so thin that I can feel the heat and press
of her skin through the material. I jerk her harder against me
even as I pull away enough to palm her tit in my hand. Jewell
moans at the roughness as I soak in the verbal cue for what
it is: She’s liking it. She’s either inexperienced, or there’s a
wildness in Jewell that I draw out. With one hand on her ass, I
roll her nipple with the other in a supple flick and tweak, and a
soft whimper escapes her as she spreads her knees for me.
I move between them, pushing my dick between the cleft
she offers, and Jewell gasps out, “Cas. We shouldn’t here.” Her
breath warms my neck, her fingers kneading the bare skin of
my lats.
I can feel her split softly as I move against her, and my
fingers use each rib like a ladder, walking down, down, down
the rungs of delicately constructed bones until my hand
breaches the last frontier.
“Stop,” Jewel pleads as my hand hovers
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