I push my hand down his pants and brush my fingers over his silky smooth cock, before taking it in my hand. He slides his pants down past his thighs and kneels in front of me, his length not disappointing in the least.
Slow and smooth escalates quickly into rapid and deep, moving at high speed. “Oh God, Jasper. Don’t stop.” I whimper.
I rub my fingers gently over the head of his cock and use my free hand to cup his balls before resuming the stroking motion. He lifts his head looking into my eyes and we both combust at the same time. His mouth forms an O, with his eyes glued to mine, and I come undone. I bite down on my lips to try and contain my outburst. There is no point in trying, because the next thing I know, I’m releasing sounds that I didn’t even know I could compose.
His cum shoots aimlessly as my hand continues to stroke in his release.
When I think that he’s going to stop and pull his hand up, he continues. Flicking my clit with his thumb as his fingers continue to ride out my orgasm. I jerk at his touch as it sends a wave of electricity through my body until I’m forced to place my hand over his, the voltage too much to handle. The weight of his body now on me, I close my eyes and smile. “That was nice.”
He kisses the tip of my nose. “Nice? It was fucking amazing.”
Strange feelings slowly replace my orgasm. A need to feel his protection and touch in a way that doesn’t satisfy me sexually, but emotionally. I lie with my hands stuck to my side, unsure whether I should wrap them around him, push him off, or just stay still and take this all in.
He falls to the side of me and I sit myself up. “Where are you going?” he asks.
“Bathroom.” I get to my feet as my legs tremble beneath me, feeling the remnants of my orgasm sticking to my thighs. I grab a pair of yoga pants from my dresser then go into my ensuite bathroom and clean up.
That was intense—bewitching, but mostly intense. I’m left feeling some sort of way that I can’t wrap my head around. A desire to be near him, but at the same time, a need to stay as far away as I can. He is gaining the upper hand, the power to hurt me. To break my heart and destroy me in the process.
When I go back into the bedroom, I’d half expected him to be gone. But, he’s still here. Lying on my bed with a notebook in his hand.
“Hey.” I hurry over, jumping on the bed and snatching my book from his hands. “That’s personal.”
“If it were personal then why was it laying wide open on your nightstand?”
“Because this is my bedroom. That's why.” I close the notebook and open up the drawer to my nightstand, stuffing it inside.
“Those are really good. Have you been drawing for a while?”
“Only my entire life.” I sit down next to him as he lays comfortably on my bed with his arms under his head. His eyes zeroing in on me. He looks like an alluring god sent to rescue my bitter heart.
“So, who’s the guy?” He leans forward, bracing himself on his elbows.
“Knox. My very best friend.” I twirl a strand of hair around my finger, feeling a little uncomfortable talking about something as personal as my drawings.
“You too are pretty close, huh?”
“He’s family. Aside from my brother, Talon, and an aunt and uncle I rarely see.”
“What about your mom and dad?” His lips pierce into a hard line.
I close my eyes for a moment, thinking of the best approach to that question. I could say that my dad is a drunk who only cares about his job, and my mom only cares about his money. But, I’m not about to lay it all out there, even if I did just share an important part of myself with him.
“They’re here, but they don’t exist. It’s complicated.”
I’m not sure why I’m telling him anything at all. It could be the possibility that he might understand me more than most people do. I feel like he wouldn’t run away if he really knew me. Like he might stick around for the adventure.
“I know the feeling. My dad and I have always been super tight, but ever since we moved in with the Robinsons, things have changed.” He rakes his fingers through his hair.
“The Robinsons?” I laugh, “Val and Knox are great, you just have to give them a chance. Knox is sort of stubborn, but he’s a good guy with a good heart—one of the few.”
“Speaking of Knox, I’m pretty sure he’s got a thing for you.” His tone shifts to one more serious.
“Whaaat? That’s insane. Knox has no interest in me in that way.”
“Are you sure about that? No guy is that close to a girl like you without wanting something more than her friendship.” He cocks an eyebrow.
I shake my head at the notion. “You have no clue what you’re talking about. Knox and I have a very different, very unique friendship.”
“So you’re fucking him?” He deadpans.
“Oh my god, Jasper. No!” I spit. “That’s ridiculous!”
“If you say so.” He shrugs it off.
Jasper’s face is difficult to read. I can’t tell if he’s jealous of the possibility that Knox and I are more than friends, or if he’s just curious.
“Tell me more about your drawings. What inspires you? Why do you do it?”
I let out a sigh of relief that we’re done with that conversation.
I lay back onto the pillow next to his, invading his space as he takes up mine. My arm is curled underneath, propping my head up a tad. “I’m inspired by everything. Nature, people, hate, anger, betrayal. If you’ve never seen a picture of hate, then you’ve never seen a drawing by Blakely Porter.”
“How exactly does one draw hate?” His forehead wrinkles, and I can only assume it’s in disbelief that it’s even possible to draw an emotion.
“Hate is black. An array of lines that have no beginning or end. They mesh together in a mess of emotion. Tears, stains, cuts, and fragments of a broken heart.”
“For someone who doesn’t like anyone or anything, you sure do feel a lot.” Jasper props himself back up on his elbow, looming over me— suddenly making me feel more exposed than I was with his hand shoved down my pants.
“I never said I don’t like anyone. I don’t trust anyone, there’s a difference.” I roll on my side to face him, meeting this vulnerability head on.
“What is it that you don’t trust anyone with?” Our eyes catch, sending a quiver through me.
“Myself. It’s simple really. If you don’t let them in, they can’t hurt you.”
“Have you ever considered the fact that if you don’t let them in, you’re hurting yourself even more?” He begins tracing his index finger on my arm, leaving goosebumps in its path.
I don’t respond. I don’t know how to. I wiggle my arm free and sit up as I run my hand over the trail from his touch.
“Ok, I think we’ve had enough of this therapy session for the night. You should probably go home.” I spew the words without thinking. I don’t really want him to go. But I need to put my walls back up. I gave him so much of me tonight, more than I’ve given people who I’ve known my entire life.
He shoots up, joining me on the edge of the bed and nods a few times. “Ok. I get it.” He stands up, straightening his pants and looking down at the stain I left for him. “Thanks for the hand job.” He kisses my cheek and winks.