There Goes My Shadow Part Eight
6.1k words
chapter warnings: this is 6.1k words of pure filthy SMUT! 18+, mind reading, heavy heavy tension, oral (f. rec.), unprotected sex, sucking and fucking, thumb sucking, slight overstim., almost choking?, the L word, dirty talk, jake on his nasty freak shit, soft lovey lovey shit, lemme know if i missed any!
a/n: this has been so fun from start to finish! thank yall so much for being here and showing love! it means the world to me to see you love this as much as I do! as always, my recs are open and we may come back to revisit this series one day! <3
TGMS MASTERLIST
MASTERLIST
You wake with a start, heart thudding, breath caught mid-gasp. A shiver runs down your spine– not from cold, but from something else. The air is different, charged, heavy with a presence. You shift to sit up– then freeze.
Jake is standing at the foot of your bed.
His eyes are fixed on you, unreadable in the dim light. You blink, struggling to shake off the fog of sleep.
“Jake?” your voice is hoarse, hesitant. “What are you–”
“What’d you dream about?” His voice is low. Almost gentle. But there’s something behind it, taut and dark, like a wire pulled tight.
You swallow, the fragments of your dream flickering behind your eyes before you can stop them. Jake– his mouth on your throat, his hands gripping your waist. The way he held you like you might shatter… right before he ruined you. His body pressed to yours, relentless. His voice in your ear, filthy, commanding, tender in the cruelest ways.
Your pulse stutters.
“I… I don’t remember,” you murmur, pushing yourself back until your spine meets the headboard.
He tilts his head, “Don’t lie to me.”
It’s not a threat. It’s quieter than that. Something broken. Something hungry. That voice… steady and soft, but laced with filth, laced with memory.
“I’m not,” you whisper, the lie already unraveling.
Jake steps closer.
“You are.”
The air in the room tightens, as if it's being pulled from your lungs. You don’t move. Can’t.
He’s at the side of the bed now, then kneeling, crawling up– slow, deliberate. His palms press into the mattress on either side of your hips, his body heat bleeding into yours, crowding you, cornering you.
His face is inches from yours. His breath brushes your cheek. And then, softly, almost reverently, he leans in, the tip of his nose trailing along your jaw until it rests against your cheek.
“Tell me,” he murmurs, voice wrecked, “what I did to you in that dream.”
Your heart slams against your ribs. Heat blooms in your chest, crawls up your throat. You turn your face slightly, avoiding his eyes, his mouth, his presence, but he’s too close. There’s nowhere to go.
“I don’t know,” you murmur.
Jake pulls back just enough to see your face, eyes narrowing slightly. His mouth twitches, humorless. “You whimpered my name,” he says.
The words hang in the air like smoke. You freeze. He doesn’t miss it.
A slow, charged silence stretches between you.
Then, he lifts one hand again. Barely touches your skin as he brings his fingers to your temple. A single tap.
“Let me in,” he says softly. “Don’t make me ask again.”
Your breath catches.
The bond thrums just beneath the surface, like a current waiting to be touched. He’s right there. Just outside the wall you’ve built around your thoughts. All you have to do is lower it.
And against every instinct screaming at you to keep it locked– You let go.
The effect is immediate.
The connection snaps into place, a sudden rush of feeling and memory that slams into both of you. His eyes darken as the dream unfolds for him– in you. Your body arching under his. His mouth dragging across your skin. The heat. The weight. The way you needed him, desperate and undone.
You feel his reaction like it’s your own. The tension in his chest. The way his jaw clenches. A low hum of arousal and disbelief tangled together in the space between your minds.
Jake’s breath is shallow, ragged, as the last flicker of the dream fades from the space between you.
He saw everything.
You feel it– how hard he's gripping the mattress, the weight of him just barely held in check. His forehead presses to yours, his body heat wrapping around you like a second skin. Your thoughts are still tangled, your mind open and exposed, the bond pulsing between you like it’s alive.
Then he moves.
A slow shift. Not impatient, but intentional. Like a hunter. His lips brush your jaw, then lower– kissing softly along the line of your throat. You gasp, and try to turn your head.
He doesn’t let you.
“Don’t,” he breathes against your skin. “Don’t run from it now.”
You’re trembling. Not from fear.
His mouth finds the spot just beneath your ear, and he lingers there, his lips barely moving as he speaks. “You dreamed about me telling you I loved you.”
You freeze. Everything inside you clenches.
You don’t answer.
But the bond does. You feel the shift in him– he knows what that moment in the dream did to you. What it still does.
He kisses lower. The slope of your neck. The edge of your collarbone. His breath is uneven, like the restraint is costing him something.
“I said it while I was inside you,” he murmurs. “While you were falling apart for me.”
You bite your bottom lip hard. Eyes shut tight. You wish you could block him out again, shove the wall back up, but it’s too late. He’s inside, deep, wrapped around every thought.
“And you said my name,” Jake continues, voice dark and quiet, words pressing against your skin like fingertips. “Whimpered it. Like I was the only thing in the world.”
You let out a shaky breath.
“Don’t,” you whisper, but it comes out thin, barely a sound. “It was just a dream.”
His mouth stills against your throat.
Then, with painful slowness, he lifts his head. His nose brushes up the side of your neck, your cheek, until his lips hover just over your ear.
“No,” he says, barely audible. “It wasn’t.”
You feel his lips turn up at the corners, and you brace yourself for the smug comment you know he'll deliver.
“That's what did it for you,” he murmurs, “That's all it took for you to come undone.”
“Jake–”
You barely get his name out before his mouth catches yours. It’s not gentle. Not rough either. It’s a claiming kind of kiss, slow and deep, like he’s tasting the sound of your voice. His hand slides up the back of your neck, fingers curling into your hair, holding you still but not forcing– just there, anchoring.
He pulls back only enough for his breath to drag across your lips. His forehead presses to yours, eyes dark, watching you like he’s reading every flicker of your thoughts.
“I do, Y/n,” he says, low and steady.
His thumb strokes along your jaw. His mouth ghosts yours again, barely a touch, a threat of another kiss.
“I love you.”
It’s not a confession. Not a plea. Just a fact, dropped between you like a match on dry grass.
Jake doesn’t wait for you to respond. His lips crush against yours, no teasing this time, just pure, raw need. His hands slide under your shirt, pulling it off, dragging you with him as if he’s lost all patience, and something inside him snaps.
You gasp into his mouth as his skin presses against yours, warmth flooding you in a way that feels like too much, but not enough at the same time. His body pins you down in the best way– solid, commanding, a reminder of how little room there is between the two of you now.
He tastes you again, deeper this time, and you feel his restraint splintering. His breath comes in jagged pulls, and you know it’s not just about physical desire anymore. It’s the pull of something that’s been building between you, something fragile, something dangerous.
When his lips leave yours, it’s only to trail down your throat again, sucking in the pulse of your skin. You shiver.
“You feel it, don’t you?” His voice is rough against your collarbone, rough in a way that feels like he’s losing control of something he’s held tight to for far too long. “The way your body’s already answering me? The way you need me?”
You try to hold on, to stay grounded, but his hands are moving over you, fingertips tracing paths that burn where they touch. Your breath hitches, and you know he’s listening for it, feeling every inch of you unraveling beneath his touch.
“I’ve had to pretend… pretend this isn’t everything I’ve ever wanted,” he continues, his lips pressing against your chest as if he’s worshipping you, as if you’re the only thing that matters in the universe right now. His hand slides lower, just enough to make you tremble, and you gasp, eyes slamming shut. “I’ve wanted this. Wanted you. So badly I can't fucking stand it.”
Your fingers tighten in his hair, your breath catching as his mouth finds your skin again– hot, hungry, desperate. He groans against your throat like he’s been starving and you’re the only thing that’s ever tasted right.
“Jake…” It slips out, breathless, not a warning, more like surrender. Your hips arch before you even realize you’ve moved, chasing the friction, the heat, the ache he’s stoking with every touch.
He lifts his head, just barely, his lips flushed, eyes dark. “Say it again,” he breathes, voice low, wrecked. “Fuck, say my name like that.”
You don’t. Not yet. You just look at him, lips parted, chest rising and falling like you’re caught mid-thought. Because you are. Caught in this perfect, dangerous in-between where logic’s already fading, and want is the only thing still making sense.
Jake leans in again, his mouth hovering just over yours, not kissing you– taunting you.
“You don’t even know what you do to me,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing along your bottom lip, slow and possessive. “I’ve thought about this. About you. Every damn night. The way you'd sound… the way you'd fall apart under me.”
You gasp when he shifts, hips pressing down with intent now– solid, hard, undeniable.
“You feel that?” he whispers, grinding just enough to make your legs tremble. “That’s what you do to me. Just by looking at me. Just by breathing.”
Your head falls back, lips parting on a soft moan. His hands slide lower, gripping your hips, dragging you against him in a rhythm that’s maddening. Every roll of his body sends fire skimming through your veins. You breathe a curse, earning a hum of approval from him. You rock your hips against his own, your eyes nearly rolling back.
You arch your back, your bare chest presing against his shirt. He's still fully dressed– his usual black dress pants hugging his thighs, a soft button up, half way opened and revealing most of his broad chest– making the contrast feel even more intimate, more urgent, as if he's claimed this space in your bed without shedding a single layer.
His hand cups your jaw gently but firmly, thumb tracing your lower lip as he tilts your head back, exposing the line of your throat. “That's my girl,” he murmurs, voice low and velvety, laced with that quiet command that makes your pulse race.
He leans in, lips brushing yours in a kiss that's tender at first this time, almost reverent, before it deepens– his tongue sliding in to taste you, slow and thorough, like he's mapping every secret you've kept.
You melt into it, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. He explores your skin with deliberate touches– palms gliding over your ribs, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts.
His gaze lingers at your chest once again, heated and owning, before he lowers his head, taking one nipple into his mouth. He sucks gently at first, tongue swirling around the hardened bud, then firmer, teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp. Your hips twitch upward, seeking friction against him, but he shifts his weight, pinning your thigh with his knee to keep you still.
“Easy, baby,” he breathes, lifting his eyes to meet yours, dark and intent. “I'm going to take my time with you. Make you feel every second of this.” His hand continues downward, fingers hooking into the waistband of your shorts, easing them down along with your panties in one smooth motion. He doesn't rush, savoring the reveal of your bare skin, the way your thighs part instinctively under his stare.
His jaw is tight, his eyes dark as he takes in the sight of you. You know the look– hunger, but mixed with something else. Reverence. An ache between the two of you that you'd both been fighting for too long.
He starts with his hand.
Well, a finger really. Ghosting just barely over your dripping heat, before both of his palms are smoothing over your inner thighs, opening you up further.
Your breath is already uneven, short staccato puffs of air as he settles with his face inches away from you.
“Breathe, sweetheart,” he says, his voice low and rough as his lips brush against the skin of your thigh.
“I am,” you argue, the words coming out weak.
He presses his cheek against your thigh, and smiles up at you, primal and alluring. He presses a kiss at the cleft of your thigh, centimeters away from where you were aching for him. He doesn't break eye contact– you know he won't.
So you do.
You let your head fall back against the pillow with a shaky breath, squeezing your eyes shut. You want him to get on with it, you lick into you until you're a crying, overstimulated mess, but if there's one thing you know about your beloved Jake, it's that he does what he wants, when he wants.
He nips at your skin, “Look at me.”
You shake your head, “I can't.”
“Y/n.”
“Jake, I can't–”
He's up before you can finish your sentence, his hand tangled into your hair and his nose brushing against yours, “Listen to me,” he says, his voice dropping– low and controlled, “I'm gonna lick into this sweet little cunt until you come– and then some,” he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, a sweet contraction to his words, “And you're going to watch every fucking second of it. Do you understand me?”
You hesitate, just a second– you don't know if you'll be able to watch that– before you nod, “Yes, Jake,” you breathe, your chest rising and falling rapidly against his.
He smiles, just barely, nudging his nose against yours, “That's a good girl,” he whispers, “Always so well behaved.”
You know the last sentence is a dig at you, but you let it slide, because he's settling back between your thighs and you're aching too much to really push him too far. You let your thighs fall open, just a little further, inviting him in.
You get the sense he'd be content just looking at you, taking in every detail, memorizing. You wouldn't be content with that– not with the ache nearly burning you from the inside out.
“Jake, please,” your voice is weak, shaky.
He leans in, sucking the skin of your inner thigh into his mouth, nipping lightly at you. You're trembling already, shaking from the anticipation, near tears already.
“Sounds so pretty when you beg,” he murmurs, his hands spreading you open even further. You huff, though it comes out weaker than you intended. The glint in his eyes is almost evil, but before you can say anything else, his mouth is finally– finally– on you.
His tongue is flat, licking a single stripe up your slick heat.
It's a simple move, but you'd been anticipating it so long, it feels as if the universe finally exhaled. As if the single action was all he needed, he lets out a quiet curse against your skin, before tugging you closer to him and slipping his tongue along your core again.
Your breath catches in your lungs when he presses the tip of his tongue against your clit, teasing almost.
His mouth feels better than you imagined– warm, wet, attentive. You roll your hips lightly, grinding just barely against his mouth. His eyes light up, and his hands wrapped around your hips push at you, encouraging you to rock against him.
You have your hands tightened in your bedsheets, but when he wraps his lips around your clit, your hand immediately goes to his hair. When you realize what you've done, you go to move your hand, to apologize, unsure if he was into that, but he hums a low hm-mm against you.
He raises a hand to your wrist, encouraging you to pull or grab as you pleased. As if he wanted to know you were feeling so good you just couldn't help it. You let out a noise, your fingers flexing lightly, unsure how you were still managing to hold eye contact with him. He flicks his tongue over your clit, just once, and you feel your lower half clench around nothing.
He lets go of your hip, and before you can pout about it, his fingers are teasing at your soaked entrance.
His fingers ease into you gently, slowly. You know he's being kind, but it feels cruel. He pulls his mouth away from you with an almost inaudible fuck, his eyes locking in on where his fingers were.
“Look at that,” he breathes, most in awe. The corner of his slick-shined mouth tilts up, smug and enraptured by the sight in front of him.
Your chest is heaving now, your face hot, “Jake–” He leans back in, sucking your clit back into his mouth, and your words escape you in a breathy moan.
He eases his fingers in and out, as if he's trying his damnedest to be gentle with you. It makes your heart melt and your walls tighten, but you don't want gentle. You want him to ruin you. To make you wholly and completely his. To destroy everything you thought you knew until it was just him. His tongue is flicking at your clit, his lips suckling just enough to drive you wild.
He curls his fingers, once, twice, before it's as if he can't stand to be patient anymore.
With a low, impatient growl, he snaps, fucking his fingers into you with a quick force that makes your toes curl. His mouth is working at you in earnest, and your back arches away from the bed.
I was trying to be sweet, you hear his voice in your head, and you give him a heatless glare.
You'd forgotten you'd opened the door, let him in… He could see everything.
And how convenient– for him to be able to speak to you in your head, since his mouth was otherwise occupied.
You want it mean, don't you? Dirty girl.
You nod, your head falling back once more. You know he told you to look at him, to watch every second of it, but you couldn't. You were close, your body trembling, your hips rocking into him.
He lets it slide, and you think he's just as desperate for your orgasm as you are, as if he needs it as badly as you do. And maybe he does.
You breathe his name, a warning, as your body tightens.
He doubles his efforts, his fingers fucking into you, curling and twisting hard and fast, his mouth eating at you in earnest.
What ultimately sends you over the edge is his voice in your head, desperate and demanding, Fucking give it to me.
It hits you like a ton of bricks. You come with a gasp that quickly turns into a broken moan. White flashing behind your eyes before you see stars. Your entire body jerks, your thighs fighting to shut around him.
You can feel him smile against your skin as he tightens his hold on you, keeping you snug against him as he works you through it.
It verges too much, too intense, but it's just right. You come down slowly, your hand at his forehead weakly trying to push him back.
He slows down, showing mercy, although you can tell he doesn't want to. He moves his head, resting his cheek against your thigh, giving you just enough to recover as he withdraws his fingers from you. Or so you thought. He presses a kiss to your clit, humming when your thighs twitch and you whimper his name. His tongue slips out, licking over your sensitive bundle of nerves painfully slow.
“Fuck, that was so pretty,” he murmurs, leaving a wet kiss to your skin, “You look like a fucking dream when you come, baby.”
You let out a weak, strangled noise, almost embarrassed, as your eyes fall shut. From shame or exhaustion, you can't tell.
He lazily licks over you, his tongue pressing into your entrance teasingly, before he slowly runs it up to your clit, circling around it.
“Jake,” you whine, bucking your hips just barely.
“What?” He asks, patronizing, pretending to pity you, “Is it too much, sweet girl?”
You nod, despondent, and he angles his head, flattening his tongue against you, working it slowly.
“Liar,” he mutters against you, before he's drawing your clit back into his mouth.
Your moan is broken, tears beading along your lash line. It's too much, it's not enough. You know he's about to make you finish on his tongue again, and you don't know if you can take it.
You can, he says, smooth and low in your brain, You can take it.
Your second orgasm hits quicker than the first, your entire body is still sensitive, still worked up from him. He seems to be more merciful this time, easing up on you as you come down, working you through it gently.
He kisses at your inner thighs, your hips, your lower stomach, and then your breasts as he slowly makes his way back up to you.
You take deep breaths, your chest heaving as he climbs back over you. Your eyes open just as he settles over you, his face inches away, “Hi sweetheart,” he says gently, leaning in to peck a kiss onto your lips.
“Hi,” you breathe, reaching up with a shaky hand to push his hair back from his face. He looks fucking sinful.
His eyes are dark in the dim lighting, his cheeks are flushed a pretty pink hue, and his hair is messy from your hands. He looks like sin in the flesh, but even then– in his hungry gaze, he's still looking at you softly. So reverent, as if you're the most precious thing in the world.
Your hand, still resting in the bedsheets it had just been tangled in, moves slightly. You let your eyes trail down, past his flushed cheeks, past his necklaces brushing against your bare chest, to the button of his jeans. You look back up at his eyes, a question on the tip of your tongue.
You can't ask that.
He knows what you want.
He looks partially amused now, the hint of a smirk gracing his lips as he reaches for your hand. Your other hand tightens in his hair as he places the one right at the waistband of his pants, and he leans in until his lips are brushing against your heated skin.
You untangle your hand from his hair, both hands sliding to the button of his dress pants. You tug at them once, and turn your head until your lips are ghosting against his, “Take these off.”
His smile grows, fond almost, as he kisses you. You dont notice his hand over yours until he's using your fingers to pop the button.
You pull back, pressing your head into the pillow as you tilt it, eager to watch him be revealed to you.
You tug unceremoniously at his pants, and he lifts his hips just enough to help you yank them down. He grabs your hands in one hand, lifting them above your head and pressing them into the pillow.
You frown up at him, but he uses his other hand to pull his underwear down with his pants. Your mouth falls open when his cock, thick and long and pretty, is freed, bobbing up to rest hard and proud against his stomach.
“Fuck, Jake,” you breathe in awe, your entire body thrumming with excitement.
He huffs an almost shy laugh, his cheeks flushing red once again.
You glance up at his face, shock still clear on yours, before you look back down at his dick, “I want it.”
He hums, his jaw tightening, “I know, honey,” he leaves a sweet kiss to your cheek, “You'll have it.”
You almost wiggle impatiently, suddenly overcome with pure want. A desire to be filled and fucked until you couldn't move, until you were an exhausted, breathless mess underneath him.
You grab his face, yanking him to you in a heated kiss, whining into his mouth when his hands grab your hips and situate you to his liking.
You feel the blunt head of him pressing against you, hot and heavy, and you rock your hips.
He pulls away from the kiss to rest his forehead against your temple, and with a slow roll of his hips, he's pushing into you.
Your mouth falls open as he eases inside of you, slow and controlled. His hand falls to the pillow beside your head, gripping it so tightly, you're afraid it might tear open. Your walls pulse around him, fighting to accommodate the intrusion as he pushes in inch by inch.
“Oh my God,” you breathe out when he finally bottoms out.
“Don't,” he almost growls the word, pressing his nose into your hair just above your ear, “Don't ever say anybody else's name but mine while I'm inside you.”
You hadn't meant it like that, but– he sounds so possessive right now, his hand is grabbing the pillow so tightly his knuckles are white, and his other hand is holding onto your hip just as tight.
He inhales through his nose, slowly, slightly shaking, and you know he isn't shaking from nerves. He's trying not to lose control.
You breathe his name, placing a hand on his arm.
He hums a sound, running his nose along the tip of your ear.
“Are you okay?” You ask softly.
He groans quietly, nodding slowly. His tongue runs along the skin beneath your ear, before he kisses you there.
“Never been better,” he murmurs, as if distracted.
You turn your head to look at him, and the moment your eyes meet, it nearly undoes you. He’s staring like he’s starving– like every detail of your face is something he’s been aching for. His gaze drinks you in, slow and reverent, as if he can’t quite believe you’re real. There’s a wild, unhidden need in his eyes, the kind that makes your skin burn under the weight of it. He looks utterly possessed by you.
You glance down at his lips, needing a break from the intensity, but even that feels dangerous– like everything about him is too much, too close.
The corners of his mouth twitch into something close to a smile when you say, “Quit looking at me like that.”
“Like what?” he says, his voice low, strained, like he’s barely holding himself together. “Like I need you so bad it's driving me insane?”
You sigh, and slide your hand up to cup his cheek, “You have me.”
Your words seem to break something inside of him, and before you can even process his lips crashing against yours, he's pulling his hips back just enough to begin fucking into you.
You gasp at the first thrust, his mouth swallowing down the sound. He feels good everywhere he's touching you, warm and almost overwhelming.
He lets go of the pillow, his hands grabbing your hips to move you just enough, and his arms slide around your waist. The hold feels protective, like he's worried you'll disappear any moment. His nails dig into the skin of your back just barely before his fingers flex.
He pushes into you completely, pausing for a moment, as if just to feel you squeezing around him. He pulls his face away from yours, tilting his head slightly as he watches himself fill you up.
“Fuck,” he breathes, before he draws back, achingly slow, only to push back in just as unhurried.
Every slow push and pull sends the head of his cock dragging against your walls, nudging that place inside of you that makes your toes curl. Your hand tightens in his hair when he angles just right, the tip pressing into it firmly.
You huff a breath, tightening around him, “Jake,” your voice is broken already, “Fuck me.”
He hums a low sound, pushing his hips flush to yours once again, “I am, baby,” he says softly.
You go to argue, to ask him to go faster, something, when his hip bone presses just right against your clit. A whimper stutters out of you, and you can't help but say his name again.
His eyes darken, a devious glint to them as he leans in closer to you again. “You want it mean, sweetheart?”
You nod, and he leans back, his arms slipping from around your waist. One hand grabs your thigh, pushing them further apart. He hooks the
back of your knee in the crook of his elbow, before he leans back in and wraps both hands around your throat.
He doesn't squeeze yet, but the position has you completely at his mercy. You're spread open, given no choice but to take it as he begins slamming into you.
Your eyes roll back when he hooks a thumb into your mouth, pressing it against your tongue. You wrap your lips around it, sucking as best as you can in the moment.
“That's it, baby,” he says, his voice tight with fraying control, “Fuckin’ take it.”
You hum a broken mm-hmm around his thumb, barely able to keep your eyes open to look at him.
You would've been moving up the bed with every thrust of his hips had he not been holding you in place, pushing you into the mattress.
He grits his teeth when you squeeze around him, his forehead falling to yours.
Your body is tightening again, building up to an orgasm you're almost afraid of having. He feels it, you know he does– physically and mentally.
He suddenly pulls out of you, letting go of your throat to push himself up, “Flip over,” he demands, giving you no time to attempt to before he grabs you and flips you around to his liking.
You're on your knees, one on either side of his, your back pressed to his chest. He wraps an arm around you, lifting you up just enough for him to slip back inside of you. He pushes you down on his cock, his other hand grabbing your waist.
“Oh fuck,” you breathe, your head falling back against his shoulder. He presses his lips to your exposed throat, nearly growling as he bites down on the tender skin. He begins fucking into you with reckless abandon, hard and fast and wild. You can barely focus on the slamming of your headboard against the wall, your brain overtaken with Jake.
Your nails dig into his thighs, the muscles tensing beneath the material of his pants as he fucks you.
Your walls squeeze around him, and you can feel your slick dripping against your thighs, against his. You're almost embarrassed, knowing you're making a mess on his dress pants.
“No, no,” he mutters, his voice low and rough, “Make a mess, honey, all over me.”
You let out a sound at that, and before you can object to it, his hand at your waist slips down, and he's rubbing tight circles over your clit.
“Oh, my– Jake–” You try to fall forward, but his arm around your upper half holds you in place.
“Come on,” he urges, “Give it to me, baby,” he sounds demanding, desperate and wild, “Make a mess all over me– right on my cock, angel.”
You're almost there, your orgasm just a few more thrusts, a few more swirls of his fingers away, when he decides to play dirty.
“What do you need?” He asks teasingly, brushing his lips against your ear, “Need me to tell you I love you?”
Your eyes snap open, “Jake–”
“I love you,” he grits out, his voice full of conviction, “I love you, I love you.”
You hate how fast your orgasm takes over at that. You finish with a loud, spent sob of his name, your body going almost limp as he holds you up, working you through it with deft fingers and expert thrusts of his hips.
Your vision goes blurry, your entire body coursing with waves of pleasure that verge on overstimulated.
Your hand, shaking and weak, finds his wrist, and you try to grab it. He eases his fingers up, slowing to a standstill as he gives you a moment to breathe.
“Yeah,” he says on a fucked out breath, “That's what you needed, isn't it?”
“Fuck you,” you say without any heat.
He hums a laugh, moving his hand away to smooth his palm over your skin, calming your trembling body.
“Where do you want it?” He asks softly, rocking his hips just enough to keep you from fully recovering.
“Inside,” you breathe, wiggling your ass against him, “Please.”
“Yeah?” He asks, fucking up just a little harder, “You want me to come inside?” You nod, your eyes rolling shut as you feel yourself tightening around him again, “You want me to make that pretty little pussy all mine? Claim it as my own?”
“It's yours,” you say weakly, “It's yours, Jake, just– Please.”
He hums then, “I think you're about to come again,” he says almost teasingly.
You nod, “I am– Fuck–” his fingers dance over you clit again, just barely, before you're coming again, and you gasp out your next words as it hits you, “Fuck, I love you.” He lets out a broken sound at that, and with a single thrust of his hips, you can feel his release filling you. Painting your walls with his warmth, as you quietly repeat your confession like a broken chant.
He comes to a standstill, his hips unmoving inside of you, and his fingers frozen over your clit. His chest is heaving against your back, and he stays quiet for a moment as his forehead rests against your shoulder.
He finally lifts his head, and his hand ghosts along your cheek, “Baby,” he says, breathless.
You hum, feeling like you're about to collapse. He wraps his arms around you, lifting you up just enough for him to slip out of you. You whine petulantly, before he eases you onto the mattress. You feel boneless as he lays you down, situating you into a much more comfortable position to recover in.
You let your eyes fall shut as you lay there, your chest rising and falling with deep breaths. You can feel him watching you, as if he's ensuring you're okay.
You open your eyes, turning your head just enough to look up at him, and a smile works its way onto your lips.
His own lips turn up at the corners, soft and beguiled. “Hi sweetheart,” he says again.
“Hi Jake,” you say softly.
“Was it too much?” He asks sweetly, moving to lay down beside you. He says on his side, propping his head up on his hand as he watches you.
“No,” you assure him, turning to him to pull him closer to you, “It was– Fuck, that was perfect, Jake.”
He allows you to move him closer to you, and he presses a single kiss to your lips, “Tell me you love me again,” he says, his voice a whisper.
You grin, your heart wanting to explode out of your chest, “I love you Jake.”
Jake’s eyes soften instantly, going wide with something tender and almost reverent, like he was seeing you for the first time all over again. His gaze, slow and unblinking, filled with quiet awe and that deep, aching kind of love. Devotion, raw and full, like you’d said the one thing he’d been waiting his whole life to hear.
You tilt your head, “Let me in.”
He nods, his face unmoving from that damned lovestruck expression that made your heart ache, “Okay honey.”
You expect a door, and you find one, but it's wide open. You study his face, ensuring that it's okay with him.
“You can look, baby,” he says softly. “I want you to.”
You push yourself up to press a kiss to his lips. You take a deep breath, and before you can second guess yourself, you walk through the door.
