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He hooks his thumb into my panties, not allowing himself inside yet.

“Anywhere,” I whisper.

“If I play with your needy little clit, will that make you feel better, or do you need to feel me?”

He’s so gentle, but genuinely curiosity about how to please me. It makes me want to go all the way. I don’t care what he does. I trust him, and I just need to feel him.

“Anything. I just want to feel you touch me.”

“God, I love hearing you say shit like that,” he practically growls, finally pulling down my panties, leaving them in a pool around my ankles.

With a light dusting of his fingers over my flesh, Jett stops right before he gets to my clit. Dipping his finger toward my entrance, he feels around for access that I grant him without question.

No one has touched me during my period except for that night.

That dark, tainted night that replays in my nightmares way too frequently.

Now, it’s fading. The more Jett touches my skin, and I watch the want in his eyes, the more the reminders from that night disappear.

Demons are being slayed touch by touch.

Floating his finger back to my swollen clit, Jett gently strums me. Small, tight circles, just enough to pull me from my mind.

Allowing my body to become one with his, I buck my hips into his hand, encouraging him to increase the pressure.

“You like that, huh?”

How is he so good with his hands?

“Yes,” I moan, fully dazed and panting.

“You’re so beautiful like this, craving my touch.”

“Jett…” I whine.

“Talk to me, baby.”

“I-It feels so good, oh my god,” I cry out, writhing beneath him.

As I feel his lips against my skin, I stiffen as the pace of his fingers heightens the pleasure tightening up my spine.

“You should feel it from down here. Fuuuck, you feel so perfect.”

All I can gather from my throat are a few illegible words as his fingers slowly and deliberately bring me to bliss. Removing the pain and suffering of a nightmare and replacing it with healing at the hands of the one who I knew, from the very first night, would protect me.

“Why is it so good?” I cry, begging for answers.

“Everything feels good when you lo⁠—”

My breathing stops, and so do his fingers. When we find each other’s stare, it’s nothing but trading pants and unspoken confessions.

Slowly, he continues, and my stomach tightens as my orgasm forces my legs to clench onto the perfect precision of Jett’s fingers.

He doesn’t finish his admission, just watches as I let every wall fall in front of him.

Every wall but one.

Once I recover from the most emotional orgasm I’ve ever felt, Jett waits for me outside the bathroom, sitting on the corner of the bed.