"Fuck yeah," he breathes. "Goin' to put my ring on your finger too. You gonna tell me no?"
"No."
"You want babies?"
"So bad," I whisper, my throat aching at the thought. I've always wanted kids, but never let myself think about actually having them. When I tried to picture my babies, I never could see them clearly. I do now though. A little boy with Jason's steely eyes and mischievous grin. A little girl with my dark hair and eyes. I want them and I don't want to wait.
I don't think Jason wants to wait either. He sits up on his knees above me and starts undoing his shirt. He misses a button in his haste, fumbling in a way that makes me love him even more. He seemed so controlled to me last night, but I think I was wrong about that. He's not in control now. I'm not sure he ever was. Fate or destiny or obsession…whatever this is at play between us…bowled him over just like it did me.
We're perfectly matched in that regard, both helplessly and hopelessly in love.
It's more beautiful than I imagined it would be.
Eventually, he gives up on sliding the buttons through their holes and just rips the shirt. Little buttons go flying across the room. So does what's left of my sanity. He's…Good Lord, he's gorgeous. His skin is golden brown over the sinew and muscle it protects, his chest covered in light hair. There's an End of Watch tattoo over his heart, and another one below his ribcage on the right side. The St. Michael tattoo on his arm climb all the way up his forearm. His stomach is rock hard, his abs defined. A little trail of light hair disappears into the waistband of his pants.
"I like you lookin' at me like that," he says, tugging me up to strip my shirt off.
I take advantage while he's undoing the buttons and reach out to touch him. His stomach flexes beneath my hand, his muscles bunching. A soft curse escapes his lips in a growl before he grabs my hand, pulling it away from his body.
"You keep touchin' me, I'm going to rip your pretty blouse, Minnie," he explains when I huff at him. "Let me get you naked, then you can play."
I consider his plan for a moment and then give in. Mostly because he looks anxious about ripping my shirt, but also because the faster we're naked, the faster he can be in me. And I definitely want him in me sooner rather than later.
I might actually combust if he isn't.
Without me distracting him, he makes quick work of my top. He even finds the hidden button on the inside, allowing him to part the fabric and slide it off me.
"Jesus," he groans, his eyes locked on my chest. "Never thought I'd see the day Mickey Mouse looked mouthwatering. It should be criminal to look as good as you do in that bra, pretty baby."
I laugh. "I love Mickey."
"I know you do." He cocks his head to the side. "Why?"
"Promise not to laugh?"
"I'd never laugh at you," he says.
"When I was five, my parents took me to Disneyland," I murmur, smiling at how intently he listens. "I wandered too far and got separated from them. I'd never been alone around so many people before and was terrified, but then Mickey and his handler saw me wandering around, crying. Mickey marched right up to me and took my hand. He stayed with me until they found my parents."
Jason grins at me.
"It took a good hour before my parents finally found me. They were frantic, but I wasn't. I had Mickey. He was my hero that day." I laugh at the memory. "I thought he was magic."
"You're magic, pretty baby."
"It was hot as could be outside that day. I didn't know it at the time, but the character actors have to take a lot of breaks because it gets so hot in the suits. He never did though. He just sat with me and held my hand until my mom and dad found me. He's been my favorite character since then."
"I love that," Jason admits, smiling like he finds me adorable. And then he eyes my bra again. "But Mickey has to go. If I don't get my mouth on these soon, I'm goin' to lose my mind."
"No one's stopping you," I say, throwing my arms out wide.
He growls playfully and snaps his teeth at me, making me laugh.
My laughter dies in my throat when he runs his fingertip down the center of my chest, dipping between my breasts. I moan softly when he cups my breasts in his hands as if he's testing the weight of them. His rough palms abrade my skin even through my bra.
"God, I love these perfect little tits," he mutters, more like he's talking to himself than to me. He quickly unhooks the bra before sliding it down my arms and tossing it over the side of the bed. He pushes me back down beneath him with one hand on my shoulder.
Once I'm on my back, he quickly strips the rest of my clothes off, moving me gently, like I'm breakable. He's less gentle once I'm laid out before him like a feast. His eyes heat and darken as he looks me over, palming his cock through his pants.
"Jesus," he groans. "Goin' to come all over myself like I did in the bar."
"You came in the bar?" I gasp.
One brow shoots upward. "You didn't know?"
I shake my head, my heart swelling with pride and happiness. It's kind of hot to know he was so turned on he couldn't help himself. I love that we were right there together the whole time, burning as one.
"Going to make you pay for it now, cowgirl." He wraps his big hands around my hips and yanks me down until I'm sprawled out in the middle of his bed, my hair fanning out across the slate gray counterpane. As soon as he's got me where he wants me, he dips his head, pressing another sweet kiss to my lips.
I try to wrap my arms around his neck to deepen it, but he bites my bottom lip and then kisses a trail down my throat. His tongue dips into the hollow and then swirls over my collarbones. He makes languid passes back and forth, lulling me into a bubble of pleasure that blots out everything but the two of us.
His stubble scrapes my skin as he kisses his way onto my chest, but I love the way it feels. I love the way he runs his rough hands up and down my sides too, touching me with nothing more than the tips of his fingers. I feel it everywhere though, feel him everywhere.
"God, I love these," he breathes before dipping his head to kiss my nipple. He does the same thing to the other.
My legs move restlessly beneath him, my hands clenching and unclenching in the blankets because I don't know what else to do with them. But staying still seems impossible.
"Oh my god," I whisper, arching toward him when he rakes his teeth across my nipple before laving it with the flat of his tongue.
He does it again, blowing across it.
"Jason," I sob, so sensitive I feel that everywhere too. I reach for him, my hands flying to his head, though I'm not sure if I'm trying to keep him there so he does it again, or if I'm trying to move him away because I'm already racing toward the peak at breakneck speed.
How does he do this to me? One touch, and I'm burning with need.
He growls, sinking his teeth into my nipple. I pull his hair, unable to help myself. My nipples and clit throb in tandem, beating in time to my heart. I shift beneath him, arching to get closer to his mouth as he moves from breast to breast, biting and licking. Greedy sounds vibrate against my skin, little growls that tell me he's in heaven too.