30. Jasmine

Chapter thirty

Jasmine

T he pounding in my head matches the rhythm of my heartbeat, a relentless reminder of yesterday's overindulgences. Fancy wine seems to hit me harder than the cheap stuff.

I burrow deeper beneath the covers after climbing back into bed, seeking comfort in their cool embrace as I hide from the man I've just rejected. Without warning, the door bursts open with the carelessness of a pissed-off son, or an excited grandchild.

Thankfully it's the latter.

"Hey, Auntie Jasmine!" Alex's voice trills like a bird heralding the dawn. "Daddy is on breakfast duty, and he's making bacon! Get it before it's gone!" His announcement hangs in the air for a brief moment before he twirls on his heel and exits, leaving a faint echo of laughter in his wake.

I blink against the brightness, my eyes flitting over to Zane, whose own gaze is soft with amusement. He is still here, beside me, the weight of his proposal anchoring me to this moment, to this room, to the reality of what has transpired between us.

"I'm sorry, they popped over with breakfast," Zane pants from chasing the child up the stairs. "I couldn't stop him. Apparently you spending the night in my bed is breakfast worthy."

"Zane," I begin, my voice hoarse with sleep and the remnants of too much wine. "This... Are you sure about this? Marrying me? We've barely had a weekend together."

"I'm sorry I rushed the offer. I thought maybe you needed the security of knowing I'm serious about offering you forever." His smile doesn't falter, but there is a gravity in his blue eyes that holds me captive. "I've spent twenty years walking through life half-asleep," he confesses, his hand finding mine beneath the sheets, fingers entwining as if they've known the shape of mine forever. "You -" he brings our joined hands to his lips, kissing my knuckles gently, "- you make me feel alive. Like I've been reborn into a world where everything has colour and purpose."

I search his face, looking for any hint of doubt, any sign that this is just a whimsical decision made in the heat of passion. When all I see is certainty, an unwavering conviction seems to fill the room with a quiet strength.

"And you fit with the family..." His words trail off as he gestures vaguely towards the door where Alex had stood moments ago as if the walls could be a testament to the seamless way I have melded into their family dynamics. "It's like you were always meant to be here, with us, with me."

A flush creeps up my cheeks, warmth blossoming in my chest at his words. The chaos of last night's celebration, the laughter and stories shared, the way his family had opened their arms to me – it is overwhelming and yet, so incredibly right. "I don't want you to answer now. I just want you to know how I feel so you're not doubting my intentions."

"Zane," I whisper, the name feeling more familiar on my tongue than it has any right to be. My heart wavers, caught between the intoxicating allure of his proposal and the sobering need for clarity. I'm struggling to resist the scent of breakfast wafting from the kitchen.

"You've turned my world upside down in the best possible way." My fingers trace the line of his jaw. "I'm so fond of you, of all of you," I admit, my gaze flicking toward the door where Alex's echo of cheerfulness lingers. "But I need to think, to breathe..." The words hang between us, delicate and fraught with the gravity of what we are contemplating. He nods and simply holds me. It should be enough, but I want it to be more. I need to be closer and more intimate with this man. He is stealing my heart, and I want more of him. For some reason, that desire grows as a heat in my crotch. I want him. I want to taste him. I pull away and head to my bag, pulling out the ballet slippers that would barely fit Alex now. "I keep these with me as a reminder not to let anyone take my dreams from me."

"I don't want to take your dreams-" he begins.

"You aren't. But just because I'm not ready to say yes, doesn't mean you aren't my ballet shoes." I return to him and press the pink fabric shoes between us. "Be my ballet shoes, and give me time to build up the courage to say yes."

"Of course." He leans forward and kisses my forehead before taking the slippers and hanging them on the drawer handle. "Now, I'm hearing all this as I am the man of your dreams."

"Then you are hearing me correctly."

"Then I can wait as long as you need for the rest." He pulls me back into his arms and simply holds me.

"Can I...?" My eyes dipping down to the covers, subtly suggesting my needs. "Can I suck you?"

"Before Marcus' bacon becomes the star of the morning?" he finishes for me, a playful glint in his eyes softening the momentary tension.

A rush of relief washes over me as he nods, his delight unmistakable. It is a strange request amidst the whirlwind of emotions, but it is real – a tangible connection that requires no promises or grand gestures. It is just us, here and now.

Without another word, I pull him into bed and slip beneath the covers, a shiver coursing through me as my hands find the waistband of his boxers. Gently, I slide them down, freeing him from the constraints of fabric.

The heat of his skin against my lips is like a beacon in the cool morning air that had settled under the covers. I move with purpose, my tongue tracing patterns along his length, each motion deliberate and loving. My mouth surrounds his tip, drawing him in and running his cock along my tongue. Zane's hand finds its way into my hair, a gentle yet insistent pressure that urges me closer, deeper. His breath comes in ragged gasps, punctuating the silence that envelops us. The world outside our cocoon seems to fade away, leaving only the sound of his moans filling the space between heartbeats. They are low and throaty, a testament to the sensations that ripple through him under my sucking.

My fingers dance alongside my mouth's work, cradling the weight of his balls with a touch as soft as whispers. I can feel him tense, muscles coiling like springs wound tight, ready to release. With each swirl of my tongue, each delicate squeeze, I take him a step further from reality, closer to the edge where thought and speech dissolve into pure feeling.

He is close now; I can tell by the hitch in his breath how his body stiffened. The hand in my hair clenches, a silent plea not to stop. And I don't. I double my efforts, determined to shepherd him to that peak, to offer this moment of unbridled ecstasy.

"Fuck—yes..." Zane's voice cracks as he nears climax, his words dissolving into nothing more than a string of incoherent sounds. And then, with a shudder that shakes the very bed we lay upon, he surrenders to the sensation, his release is a hot and fervent rush that hits the back of my throat with a choking force that I'm not ready for. I gag on the salty fluid, trying to swallow what I can as the rest dribbles from where my lips stretch around him.

"That was amazing, kitten." Zane uses his hand to guide me back to the surface of our bedding.

"It was-"

"Perfect, kitten."

"I'm definitely up for more practice." I grin, licking my sticky lips.

"It will be a while before I'm up for that again, so perhaps we should consider breakfast first?"