Library Shadow

The day was torture.

Jason was a man of his word. He kept his hands to himself — no brushing past you in the kitchen, no pulling you into his lap when you walked by, no sleepy kisses when he woke up. But he compensated with everything else.

He’d walk past you shirtless after his shower, towel slung low on his hips, water still dripping down the defined lines of his torso. He’d “accidentally” stretch in front of you, arms above his head, shirt riding up to show the trail of hair leading down.

You lasted until noon.

Then you cracked.

You cornered him in the kitchen while he was making coffee, pressing yourself against his back, hands sliding around his waist.

“Not fair,” you whispered, lips brushing his ear. “You’re cheating.”

He chuckled, low and rough, but didn’t touch you back. “Rules are rules, princess. No touching. You’re the one breaking them.”

You huffed and pulled away, cheeks burning.

The rest of the day was a slow burn of tension.

He’d catch your eye across the room and smirk, knowing exactly what he was doing. You’d “accidentally” bend over in front of him while picking something up, watching his jaw clench. The air between you grew thicker with every passing hour.

By 10pm, you were both on the couch, pretending to watch a movie. The space between you felt electric.

Jason broke first.

He turned to you, eyes dark. “Fuck the bet.”

You barely had time to react before he had you pinned beneath him on the couch, mouth crashing into yours. The kiss was desperate, weeks of restraint exploding all at once. His hands were everywhere — sliding under your shirt, gripping your waist, pulling you closer like he couldn’t get enough.

“Been dying to touch you all day,” he growled against your lips. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

You moaned into his mouth, fingers tangling in his hair as he ground against you. He was already hard, pressing insistently between your thighs.

“Jason—”

“Tell me to stop and I will,” he rasped, kissing down your neck. “But I’ve been thinking about this since you made that stupid bet.”

“Don’t stop,” you breathed.

He didn’t.

He stripped you efficiently but reverently, hands mapping every inch of skin like he was memorizing you. When you were bare beneath him, he groaned, eyes dark with hunger.

“So fucking pretty,” he murmured, kissing down your body. “Been dying to taste you all day.”

He settled between your thighs, spreading you open with careful hands. The first slow lick drew a broken moan from you. Jason groaned against your core, the vibration making your hips jerk.

“Taste so good,” he rasped, tongue working you with devastating skill — long, slow strokes, then focused sucks on your clit. Two thick fingers slid inside you, curling just right as he devoured you.

You came hard, crying out his name, thighs shaking around his head. He worked you through it, gentling his tongue until you were trembling and oversensitive.

Then he crawled back up, kissing you so you could taste yourself on his lips. He rolled on a condom with quick hands, then settled between your thighs again.

“Still okay?” he asked, nudging at your entrance.

You wrapped your legs around his waist. “Need you. Now.”

He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, groaning as your walls clenched around him. When he bottomed out he stilled, forehead against yours, breathing ragged.

“Fuck, you feel perfect,” he whispered. “So tight. So warm. Missed this so much.”

He started moving — deep, steady thrusts that dragged against every sensitive spot. One hand braced beside your head, the other gripped your hip, holding you in place as he fucked you with that perfect rhythm he always knew.

“Look at me,” he murmured. “Want to look at you when you cum around me.”

You did, eyes locked on his as the pleasure built again. His pace stayed deep and rhythmic, grinding against you on every thrust, one hand slipping between you to circle your clit with gentle pressure.

You came with a moan of his name, walls clenching around him. Jason followed right after, burying himself deep with a low, broken groan, hips stuttering as he spilled into the condom.

He stayed inside you for a long moment, holding himself up so he didn’t crush you, pressing soft, lazy kisses to your face.

When he finally pulled out and disposed of the condom, he came right back, pulling you into his arms on the couch. You curled against his chest, head over his heart, legs tangled with his.

“You okay?” he asked softly, stroking your back.

“Perfect,” you whispered, nuzzling closer. “Missed you.”

He kissed the top of your head, arms tightening around you. “Missed you more. Next time we make a deal like this, we better actually do it.” He chuckled slightly.

You laughed softly. “I doubt it. But deal.”