Page 61 of Gatsby's Starlet
I shifted forward, backing her up without breaking the kiss, slow but deliberate, giving her time to stop me if she wanted to—she didn’t.
Her back hit the wall, soft but solid, and my hand slid from her jaw to her neck, not squeezing, just holding, keeping her there as I pulled back just enough to look at her, my breathing not much steadier than hers now.
“Still fine?” I asked, quieter, rougher this time.
Her answer didn’t come right away. Didn’t need to. I could see it. Feel it. My thumb shifted slightly against her skin, slow, deliberate, not soft but not rough either, just enough to pull her attention back to me when I felt it drifting.
“Look at me.”
Her eyes lifted, just a second late, like she had to fight through whatever was still in her head to get there, and thesecond they locked on mine, I felt it—that shift, that focus snapping back into place where it should’ve been from the start.
On me.
That’s what I wanted.
That’s what she needed.
“Good,” I said, lower now, my hand sliding just slightly along her neck, not letting her drop her gaze, not letting her drift back into whatever had her shaking in the first place.
I leaned in again, slower this time, giving her a second to stop it if she wanted to… she didn’t.
So I closed the distance, my mouth finding hers again, but this time it wasn’t about the hit of it, wasn’t about the rush, it was controlled, deliberate, every movement measured, like I was setting the pace and making damn sure she stayed with me in it.
Her hands tightened in my shirt again, and I took that as exactly what it was, permission, need, something she wasn’t saying out loud but wasn’t hiding either.
My hand dropped from her neck back to her waist, firmer now, holding her close when I felt her shift, keeping her right where she was instead of letting her slip away into her head again.
“Stay with me,” I murmured against her mouth, low enough it barely carried, but it landed, I felt it in the way her grip tightened, the way her body pressed in just a little more instead of pulling back.
That was better.
That was right.
I pulled back just enough to look at her again, my forehead almost brushing hers, my hand still locked at her waist like I hadn’t even considered letting go.
“You’re safe,” I said, calm, certain, not giving her room to question it. “In here. With me.”
Her breath hitched slightly, and I caught it, watched it, waited just long enough to make sure it settled instead of spiraling.
Then I moved again.
Not fast.
Not rushed.
Just enough pressure at her waist to turn her, guide her off the wall and back into the room, my hand never leaving her as I walked her with me, controlled but not forceful, I’d already decided how this was going to go and she didn’t need to think about it anymore.
“C’mon,” I said, quieter now, but just as firm.
No question in it. No room for one either.
She went with me without resistance, and I didn’t miss that, didn’t miss the way she stayed close, like stepping away wasn’t even an option she was considering anymore.
I kept her close as we moved, one hand heavy at her waist, the other brushing briefly along her arm before settling again, grounding, keeping her present, keeping her right where I needed her, out of her head, out of whatever had her shaken, and right here instead.
The bedroom was warm, the air thick with the scent of her vanilla perfume mingling with anticipation. We'd been dancing around this moment for weeks and now, in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, Evie stood in front of me, her full lips parted slightly, eyes wide with that mix of nerves and want.
I could see her chest rising and falling quicker, her body trembling just a bit. My cock was already hard, straining against my jeans as I stepped closer, my hands itching to feel every inch of her soft skin. I reached for the her, my fingers brushing the smooth warmth of her thighs.
