Chapter 232: "I Want You"

Jordan had never liked making his girlfriend wait.

Whether he was picking her up for work, returning a stolen kiss in passing, or answering some earnest question she’d asked him, he’d always been quick to respond.

And yet now, with Aren sitting before him, her thighs parted in unmistakable invitation, he found himself strangely incapable of making the next move.

’How am I actually supposed to touch her there?’

His gaze drifted toward the space between her thighs.

’Should I ask her what she likes?’

’No, God. That’ll make me sound like I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing.’

Unfortunately, that was becoming increasingly accurate.

’What if I do something wrong and make her uncomfortable? What if she thinks I’m only interested in having sex with this body now that I know it isn’t hers?’

That last thought troubled him more than the others.

He’d rehearsed this situation in his head more times than he would ever admit, and those fantasies had always gone smoothly. Imaginary Jordan had apparently possessed unlimited confidence, perfect instincts, and none of the inconvenient emotional complications currently strangling the real one.

Reality, it turned out, was much less cooperative.

Aren was right there — warm, real, watching him with trusting eyes.

After everything she’d just confessed about who she truly was, Jordan suddenly felt as though every touch carried meaning, and he didn’t want to get that meaning wrong.

After a while, Aren noticed his hesitation.

’Why isn’t he... touching me?’

At first, she’d assumed he was simply taking his time. But several seconds passed, then several more, and the hand that had been moving so confidently earlier remained motionless against her thigh.

Meanwhile, the ache between her legs was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. When she drew back slightly from their kiss and studied his face, she noticed the faint tension between his brows.

’Oh.’

’He doesn’t know what to do first.’

She remembered how nervous he’d been at the museum, how he’d confessed his inexperience despite clearly fearing what she might think of him. Perhaps this wasn’t so different.

’Maybe I should help him.’

With shy determination, she laid her hand over his. Her fingers trembled only a little as she guided him higher, until his fingertips brushed directly over her pussy through the fabric of her jeans.

"There... Jordan."

Her voice was soft and embarrassed, but certain.

"I like it there."

Her sudden boldness stole the breath from his lungs.

"...Aren."

His throat tightened.

"Aren... are you sure?"

"Yes."

Her cheeks were warm, but she held his gaze.

"I’m very sure. Don’t you... want to?"

Jordan almost laughed in disbelief. He wanted her so badly that his cock had been aching against his trousers for several minutes now.

"...Of course I want to."

He might have sounded steady, but inside, he was clinging to every scrap of composure he had.

’All right. Calm down.’

’You’re the older one here. You’re supposed to be taking care of her, not making her take care of you.’

’You can do this.’

His thumb began to move in small, tentative circles over the fabric covering her pussy.

The first few movements were so cautious that Aren almost smiled. Yet as he continued, she found herself responding to even the slightest shift of his hand.

Her fingers tightened against the sofa.

Her lashes fluttered.

A soft sound escaped her, breathy and surprised, and Jordan felt it go through him like a spark.

"Mm... Yes, Jordan." Her hips shifted helplessly beneath his hand. "Like that."

Her soft encouragement did wonders for his confidence. He kept the motion slow, watching for every sign of how she felt — the way her thighs tensed, then eased open again.

Each circle drew another sound from her, softer than a moan at first, then higher, more unguarded, until his cock throbbed so painfully that he had to swallow back a curse.

’Oh God.’

’Fuck me.’

In one sense, it still felt strange to look at her face and know it belonged to someone else. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was still trying to imagine what his girlfriend had looked like before she’d inhabited this body.

Rougher skin, she’d said.

Scars from fieldwork.

A face she’d apparently considered unremarkable.

He found himself wanting to know that face. Yet looking at her now, he also found it increasingly difficult to separate the woman he’d come to love from the expressions he’d grown accustomed to seeing.

That shy little smile was hers.

That particular blush was hers.

So was the careful, earnest way she watched him, as if every touch meant more than touch alone.

Only now, there was something more dangerous threaded through it.

She looked turned on.

Very turned on.

Her features had tightened with pleasure. Her eyes had gone glassy. Her breathing had grown uneven, and the sight made him feel more aroused than he’d ever been in his life.

He wanted more.

He wanted to hear her lose that soft restraint completely. Wanted to feel her tremble under his hand, to hear her whisper his name, to watch her come undone because of him.

Yet the harder he tried to decide how to do all of that, the less capable he became of doing anything at all.

’Hold on.’

’I can’t rush this.’

He forced himself to breathe.

’I can’t just strip her and start doing whatever I want.’

’Not after what she just told me.’

’She might think I’m only lusting after this body all over again. I have to make sure she knows I love her, not this body. But how do I even—’

The thought was cut mercilessly short.

Aren had noticed his hesitation again, and this time, she didn’t reach to guide his hand.

She reached for the button of her jeans. Without warning — and to Jordan’s entirely unprepared horror — she undid it and pulled down the zipper.

His shoulders jerked.

"Aren!"

His hand shot out to stop her.

"Aren, Aren... w-what are you doing?"

She looked at him, genuinely confused.

"I’m getting these out of the way."

Apparently finding that explanation sufficient, she shifted her hips, trying to push her jeans down.

"It’ll be much easier for you to move your hands."

Before he could object — or recover enough sense to pull the zipper back up — Aren hooked her fingers into the waistband and pushed her jeans down over her hips. Within seconds, she’d slipped them off and tossed them onto the floor.

Jordan opened his mouth.

No words emerged.

For a man already struggling to maintain some semblance of restraint, the sight was almost cruel.

She’d leaned back against the sofa and spread her legs again, and now she was looking at him expectantly, her expression still carrying that earnest willingness to help him figure things out.

And then there were her panties.

White, silky little panties. With tiny daisies scattered across the fabric.

The contrast between those innocent little flowers and the unmistakable invitation of her posture was doing terrible things to both his continued existence and the ache between his legs.

’Oh, God.’

He swallowed hard.

’All the higher powers above.’

’What am I supposed to do with her?’

He drew a breath.

’I need guidance.’

’No, I need oxygen.’

’No, I need to calm the fuck down.’

’I need help.’

Aren, meanwhile, was growing puzzled all over again.

Jordan still wasn’t moving. He was just staring at her panties as though she’d presented him with an artifact from an alien civilization.

The intensity of his gaze suddenly made her self-conscious. She snapped her legs together and covered herself with both hands.

"Um..."

Her entire face burned.

"Wasn’t that what you wanted to do? I thought... I thought—"

"It is!"

Jordan answered so quickly that she stopped speaking. He drew another breath and tried again, more gently this time.

"It is what I wanted to do, Aren. I’m sorry. I was just... a little nervous."

Aren looked at him uncertainly.

"Then... would you rather go back to the workshop? We don’t have to rush."

"No."

He shook his head immediately, desperate to make her understand how much he wanted her.

"I can’t go back to the workshop right now, Aren. I’ve missed being alone with you. I just..."

He gently reached for her knees, encouraging her to relax again.

"...I just want to make sure you’re comfortable."

She studied him for a moment, then her expression softened.

"I am comfortable."

She drew him a little closer.

"You don’t have to do everything perfectly, Jordan. I’ve... really liked what you’ve done so far."

The simple reassurance left Jordan both relieved and faintly embarrassed.

"All right."

He finally lowered his head between her thighs, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath through the fabric.

"...Tell me if there’s anything you don’t like."

He hesitated for only a heartbeat longer before leaning in and kissing her there.

Softly.

"Ah..."

Aren’s body gave a small jolt.

He glanced up.

"Feels good?"

"Yes."

Her voice came out breathless.

"Very much."

Jordan smiled.

He kissed her again, just as gently, his lips pressing against the thin fabric.

"Mm... Jordan..."

Again and again, he brushed his mouth over her, coaxing the tension out of her body until her legs parted wider for him.

"Yes," she breathed. "Kiss me like that."

His lips curved slightly against her.

"I like your underwear."

Her blush deepened.

"You do?"

"Yeah."

He kissed her again, lower this time, and her fingers curled against the sofa.

"The little daisies. They’re cute on you."

For some reason, hearing him praise something so ordinary made her feel more bashful than she’d expected.

"...I also have panties with lilies on them," she admitted shyly. "Dragonflies, too. They’re also very cute."

A little chuckle escaped him despite himself. He was already imagining exactly how they’d look on her, and the thought alone was unbearable.

"You do?"

"I’ll remember to wear them next time."

"God," he groaned. "I’ll fucking love that."

The kisses only grew wetter from there. His mouth lingered, then pressed more firmly against her, little pulls of suction making the fabric cling damply to her.

The heat of his breath and the wetness of his saliva seeped through, making every touch more intimate. Aren trembled with each little movement, her body responding before her thoughts could catch up.

"Mm... Jordan."

He lifted his gaze.

"Still good?"

"Yes," she whispered, almost helplessly. "Very much."

She spread her legs even wider for him, and something in his confidence finally settled into place. He hooked a finger under the edge of her panties and eased them aside.

The moment he saw her bare pussy, slick and flushed and glistening for him, his breath left him in a rough curse.

’Oh Lord, fuck me.’

Her scent was warm and intimate, dizzying in a way that made his self-control feel thin and fragile.

He leaned in as if drawn by instinct and opened his mouth against her, dragging his tongue in one firm, wet stroke from the bottom of her pussy to the top.

"Mm—hah!"

Aren’s back arched off the sofa.

The sensation was exactly what she’d been craving, except Jordan’s mouth was soft, hot, and far naughtier than his nervousness had led her to expect.

He licked her again, slower this time, parting her folds with his tongue as though he wanted to learn every place that made her breath catch. When he reached her clit, he circled it carefully, then closed his lips around it in a gentle suck that made her thighs shake on either side of his head.

"Jordan—"

The sound of his name on her lips did something to him.

He groaned against her pussy, and the vibration made her shudder hard enough that her hips lifted toward his mouth without thought, helplessly seeking more.

’Oh, no.’

’It feels so good.’

’It feels too good.’

’I didn’t know his mouth would feel like this.’

"Yes, please, Jordan."

Her voice faltered.

"Please, more."

Jordan heard the change in her breathing. He felt the way her thighs opened even wider for him, the way her body softened and trembled beneath his hands, and the knowledge sent a fierce rush of need through him.

This was more than her body responding.

This was Aren trusting him.

Aren wanting him.

Aren letting him be the one to make her fall apart.

Unable to hold himself back any longer, he fumbled one hand down between his own thighs. His fingers shook as he worked open the button of his trousers, dragged down the zipper, and freed his cock in one hurried motion.

When Aren looked down, he was stroking himself just below the edge of the sofa while his mouth still moved over her pussy as though he couldn’t bear to stop.

The swollen red tip of his cock appeared and disappeared through his fist with every stroke, and for a moment, her thoughts went utterly still.

’Oh, he’s...’

The embarrassment of seeing it should have swallowed her whole.

Instead, it made her ache all the more.

’He... wants me.’

Her lips parted.

"Jordan?"

He lifted his eyes to her at once, and the sight of him like that — flushed, desperate, his lips wet from her — sent another pulse of heat through her.

"I..."

Her fingers found his hair.

"...I want you."