Under Covers

thirty-one | nice

A/N: this chapter is not Ramadan friendly... Do not read while fasting. Y'all are thirsty enough as it is. xoxo Ami

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thirty-one | nice

originally a method developed by a military man to remind his wife to return home on time from her daily walks, the 'canon de midi' has fired each day in Nice at noon since 1861; the cannonfire has been replaced in modern times by the explosion of a single large firework

RAYNA

May 9th, 18:00 (GMT +2)
6 days until it happens

I THROB EVERYWHERE. My knees hit the rug between Jake's strong thighs. The peaks of my breasts tingle, stiff from the teasing coarseness of his fingertips. Those smoldering grey eyes are glazed over as he glances down at me, his lips pink and shining and stung with the aftermath of our embattled kisses.

The thought of taking him into my mouth, feeling him come apart beneath me, is arousing beyond sanity, but he's also way too fucking smug about it.

He thinks he won. He thinks he's in charge.

I reach forward, begin unclasping his belt. Slowly, slowly. I meet his gaze, flushed, eyelashes cast low, and gift him a teeny, coy smile. A gruff breath sounds from his chest.

I tug him by the belt and scoot back until he's standing over me, a thick fist crumpled into the back of my hair. He steps out of his jeans, the heavy shadow of his erection straining through black boxer-briefs. I bring my face close, close, closer. "Jake," I murmur, innocent and soft, biting my lip, pressing my cheek to his thigh.

He smears a hand over his bristled jaw, his forehead ticking with tension. "Rayna." My lips brush over him, just a whisper across taut fabric. A crooked finger finds the base of my chin, tipping me up to catch the dry arch to his eyebrow as he asks, "You think you can be good for me?" It's so rough and dark it rumbles through me.

He already knows the answer.

I shake my head, my fingers slipping beneath the waistband and tugging, "I don't know how to be good."

His underwear falls. An involuntary gush of breath gapes from me. The pressure of his grasp tightens, a ragged, delicious sting of admonishment. "Try." The hard raspiness of his voice sends a fresh flood of heat streaming through me.

His cock is thick and hard and huge. I curl my hand around him and he pulses into my touch and we both groan.

My grip firms into a squeeze. His eyes blaze, full of warning, but the threat of consequences just spurs me on. I rub slow, teasing circles against his swollen tip. In my sweetest, gentlest tone, I tilt my head cutely to the side and reply, "Let me be bad for you, Jake."

His eyelids narrow, suspicion and vexation and wryness clouding his expression. Except the stiffness in his jaw twitches, the barest hint of resignation. Like he knows I'm gonna ruin him and he might just let it happen because deep down, the chaos burns so fucking bright.

I slip my rounded fist up and down his length tauntingly, pressing near so my naked tits squash up against him. He tries using his hold on my hair to guide my mouth closer, but I resist, using my hand to drive him crazy first. The rough chafe of frustration that rumbles through his chest makes me smile.

"Tell me what you want, Jake," I murmur. "Use your words."

A streak of something dark folds over his features. Mm, someone doesn't like being told what to do... Warmth erupts through my tummy when he clamps a broad, harsh hand onto my jaw, clenching me tight, digging into my cheeks to force me open for him. "I want you to stop being a cheeky little arse and do as your fucking told, for once." Tugging til my mouth rests an inch from his cock, he grumbles, "Suck."