Page 16 of Snatching Jackie (Wintermoon Shorts #5)
He disappears from the bathroom for a split second, returning with his own set of towels.
He places them on the counter, then grabs the washcloths and what looks like a hair tie.
His fingers are gentle as he helps me gather my hair into a high ponytail to keep it dry before pulling me into the shower.
The warm water flows over us, and he reaches for the soap. I stand still, watching as he lathers the washcloth and then begins to wash me with a tenderness I’ve never experienced before. He starts at my neck, his touch gentle, the rough texture of the cloth alongside the softness of his movements.
He works his way down to my shoulders, tracing the curves with careful attention. When his hands move to my breasts, there’s no hesitation, no awkwardness—just care and appreciation as he washes each one, his fingers grazing my nipples in a way that makes me shudder.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the running water.
His hands continue downward, sliding over my belly with the same careful attention he’d given the rest of me.
His touch is worshipful, tracing the stretch marks at my hips like they’re sacred patterns.
He kneels in front of me, washing my thighs, the backs of my knees, my calves, even between my toes.
He rises again, guiding me to turn around so he can wash my back, his hands kneading the tension from my muscles as he goes.
When he reaches between my legs, his touch remains respectful but intimate. I gasp slightly as the washcloth glides over my most sensitive areas, and he pauses, his eyes finding mine, seeking permission to continue. I nod, and he finishes washing me with the same devotion he’s shown throughout.
I’m in a trance, lost in the delicateness of it all. Never in my life has someone treated my body—all of it—with such care and appreciation. There’s no hesitation in his touch, no sense that any part of me is anything less than perfect to him.
He helps me rinse off, the water carrying away the soap in rivulets down my curves. Then he begins washing himself, his movements more efficient but no less graceful.
I reach out, running my fingers over his chest as he washes, feeling the hard muscle beneath my touch. The soap enhances his dark skin.
“My body belongs to you,” he says, his voice deep and sincere. “You can touch me as much as you want.”
His eyes darken with lust as he watches me explore him. He leans down close to my ear.
“I keep catching the scent of your arousal again and again,” he whispers.
He takes his fingers and runs them over my forehead, down my nose, and across my lips—the same gesture he’s done twice before. Now I understand what it means. It’s how he shows me that he loves me without saying the words.
“Kiss me,” I tell him, and he quickly obliges, pressing his lips to mine.
The kiss begins tenderly, a gentle meeting of lips, but quickly deepens with hunger.
He cradles my face in his large hands, his thumbs caressing my cheeks as our mouths move together.
I moan against his lips as his hands begin to search my body—trailing down my neck, over my shoulders, cupping my breasts with a tenderness that makes my knees weak.
My own hands aren’t idle, exploring the hard planes of his arms, the breadth of his shoulders, the strength in his back. Each touch between us feels like discovering a new language, one spoken only through the connection of skin against skin.
He pushes me gently against the shower wall, his body pressing against mine. I feel his hard dick against my stomach, hot and heavy even with the water streaming over us. I gasp between kisses—how perfectly our bodies seem to fit together despite our size difference.
He pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against mine as we both catch our breath. The water continues to rain down on us as he reaches behind me to rinse himself off, then pulls me against him to help me rinse as well.
He turns off the shower and pulls me out of the bathroom, still holding me close. He grabs a towel and begins to dry me off with the same care he showed while washing me. Every movement feels like a caress, every touch.
As he dries me, he presses his forehead to mine and lets out a low growl that makes me shiver—not from fear but from arousal. The smell of his skin, the taste of his lips still lingering on mine, the tenderness of his touch—it all combines to create an intoxicating sense of desire.
“I want to eat your pussy,” he says, his forehead still pressed against mine, his voice so deep it sends a shiver through me.
“Wha-what?” I stammer, caught off guard by the blunt request.
Jabari pushes his hips against me, and I feel the hardness of his dick against my stomach. I’m entranced, feeling so loved, so wanted, so desired like never before.
“Okay,” I whisper, surprised by how eager I am to say yes.
He picks me up, and I grip his shoulders, wrapping my legs around his waist as he carries me, both of us still naked, out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. He lays me gently on the bed, standing at the edge just staring at me like I’m the most beautiful woman in the world.
He grabs himself, stroking his impressive length while his eyes devour every inch of me. Slowly, he climbs onto the bed until he’s hovering above me. He presses his body against mine, our skin still warm and slightly damp from the shower.
He stares into my eyes, searching my face for something—approval, perhaps? I lift my head and kiss his lips.
“I’m yours,” I tell him. “Take me.”
He kisses me again, his lips moving against mine with increasing hunger, but when he winces from his headache, I pull back.
“No, wait, you’re not feeling?—“
But he’s already moving his head down my body, his large hands gripping my breasts.
I moan from the sensation and close my eyes as he licks and sucks one nipple.
The warm wetness of his tongue sends sparks of pleasure racing through me.
He lavishes attention on one breast before moving to the other, his teeth grazing the sensitive peak just enough to make me arch into him, seeking more.
He continues his journey downward, his lips trailing fire across my stomach, his beard tickling my skin.
He moves until his head is between my legs.
Lifting my thighs, he scoots me back a little further on the bed, then spreads my legs wider.
I try to lift my head to look at him, but then he dives in.
The first touch of his tongue against my core sends a jolt of pure pleasure through me.
He pushes my belly back slightly, gently, giving him better access as he begins to devour me with unrestrained hunger.
His hands push my legs back, opening me up completely to him as he licks a long stripe from bottom to top.
Jabari eats my pussy like it’s the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted. His tongue moves up and down on my clit, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves before plunging inside. The alternating pressure—sucking, thrusting, teasing—has me clutching at the sheets.
He’s utterly focused on my pleasure, moaning against me as he tastes me deeply. He even explores new areas before returning to my pussy. There’s no hesitation in his movements, no sign that he’s anything but completely enthralled by what he’s doing.
The pleasure builds rapidly, his skillful mouth driving me higher and higher until I shatter, crying out his name as my first orgasm washes over me.
But he doesn’t stop. If anything, my release seems to fuel his determination.
His fingers dig into my thighs as he continues feasting on me, driving me toward a second peak.
His tongue flicks rapidly against my clit, and he’s grunting into me, the vibrations adding another dimension to the pleasure.
The wet sounds of his mouth against me fill the room, mixing with my moans and cries.
I’ve never felt anything like this—the single-minded focus with which he worships between my legs is overwhelming.
My second orgasm hits even harder than the first, making me arch off the bed as waves of pleasure crash through me. My thighs tremble, my entire body quaking as he continues licking and sucking, drawing out every last shudder of ecstasy.
Finally, I can’t take any more. I start weakly kicking my legs, overwhelmed by sensation.
“Okay, Jabari, okay baby,” I gasp, barely able to form words. “Let me get a breather.”
He lifts his head and stares up at me, his mouth and beard glistening with my essence. The look in his eyes as he gazes at my pussy tells me he’s ready to go back down, and I quickly guide his head back up to mine, marveling at how different he looks now—wild, primal, consumed with desire.
He climbs on top of me, and I feel his dick pressing against me, thick and ready. As he settles his weight carefully over me, I wonder how I’m going to survive this. He’s already pulled two orgasms from me, and clearly, he wants more.
His eyes lock with mine, filled with so much emotion it makes my heart stutter. In this moment, I feel completely and utterly his.