Powerless (Chestnut Springs, #3)(69)

“What are you doing?” I whine, tipping my head back in frustration.

He smirks at me, licking his lips purposefully as he pushes to stand above me. His hands are at the button on his jeans, casually popping it open and dropping the zipper. I see what looks like a painful erection, ready to bust through the dark denim.

“Making you wait,” he responds as he shucks them off and rubs his cock through the fabric of his boxers.

I clench and release at the gravel in his tone, and his gaze drops between my legs.

“Why?” My voice is breathy when I reach down to touch myself. His eyes flare as I circle my clit shamelessly.

He allows me to get away with it for a few seconds before he lifts my hand and sucks that naughty finger into his mouth. With a loud pop, he pulls it out. “Because I like to watch you squirm. I like to make you wait.”

He tugs his boxers off and . . . my eyes are stuck . . . latched onto his long, hard length.

I wish I had something cool and sexy to say after everything he’s told me tonight. But his dick has quite literally rendered me speechless.

“Something you wanna tell me, Sunny?”

“You’re so fucking hot,” is what I blurt.

Only Jasper Gervais would have a body like a titan, a face like a model, and a cock like a pornstar.

With a deep chuckle, he runs the fat head up and down my slit, taking a few extra seconds to press hard against my clit. I bite down on my lip to keep from moaning, from sounding too desperate.

I watch him run his cock all over my pussy. Fisting it firmly. Teasing me with the tip. Pushing it in, watching my body stretch for him, and pulling it back out.

“You want me to fuck you, Sloane?”

“Yesss,” I hiss out.

He lifts his thick cock up and slaps it back down lewdly on my wet core. “Ask politely.”

“You’ve got some nerve, Gervais,” I say, going hot all over.

He quirks a brow as if to say, Go on. And I didn’t make it this far to back down now, so without hesitation I say, “Yes, please.”

My entire body is one huge heartbeat. Just a pulse covered by desperate flesh. I’ve never felt so wanton and I’ve never felt so desired.

Like we’re two opposite ends of a magnet, there’s no resisting the pull. There are forces beyond us at work now, and we’re at their mercy.

Maybe it’s science.

Maybe it’s fate.

But when Jasper slides himself inside me and murmurs with a playful smile, “Such a polite girl,” all I know is that it’s right.

We’re right.

My lashes flutter down as I struggle to accommodate his size. My legs shake as they wrap around his waist and latch together over his firm ass.

His hands start on my thighs and slide sensually up over every curve while he’s seated inside of me. Fingers pulse over my breasts, and his hips shove forward even though he’s as far in as he can get. His arms wrap around my rib cage, and he pulls me up to him, hands splaying possessively over my back as the fullness inside me shifts.

“Jasper, it’s too much,” I murmur, dropping my forehead against his chest.

He plants a kiss against my hair and pulls out, like he’s going to grant me some reprieve. His head drops beside my ear, and he whispers, “You can take it,” right before driving back in.

“Oh god!” I call out as he works himself in and out. Not too fast, but not too slow. Every movement is measured—controlled—and with him, of course, it is.

His career.

His mental game.

His protective streak.

His trauma.

It all makes so much sense.

“Fuck, Jasper!” I gasp as he works me over. He kisses me hard. He brings me to the edge and pulls us both back. I let him take care of me the way he needs to, and I revel in it. I trust him so implicitly. It comes so easily.

I bask in his attention, in the way his hands move over my skin, the way his lips fit so perfectly against mine, the way he chants my name in my ear as he moves against me. Hips slamming roughly making a slapping noise against my ass for several seconds before easing off and rendering me senseless with slow, deep strokes that keep the pressure in my core building in the most delicious way.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he murmurs. “So fucking tight.”

It feels like I’m riding waves in the ocean, my body soft and relaxed, the white noise of water tumbling in my ears accompanied by his deep, rumblings of worship.

My body feels more his than mine, and I’m entirely at peace with that notion.

I can feel every ridge, every vein, every pulse of him inside me. And it makes me wild. I scratch at him, my nails raking against his back. Urging him to give me more. I bite at him. I’m downright feral with my need for him.

“Closer. Deeper. More,” I beg, and he gives me everything I ask for and more. Eyes always coming back to mine, watching me so damn closely. Cataloguing every little motion, every gasp of pleasure.

Learning me as I learn him.

“Jasper . . .” I moan as he carefully lies me back down on the chilly marble, hands roaming reverently, fluttering over my throat for a moment before shifting down to my hips. “Please don’t stop. I’m so close.”

My hands wrap around his veined forearms, and my eyes sweep over his perfectly defined torso. It’s dotted with perspiration and goes taut every time his hips flex forward into me.