Chapter 3 You're Just Starving

Claire had thrown on sweatpants and an oversized hoodie, but she still felt naked. Her pussy was still swollen, still wet, still throbbing with the orgasm he'd interrupted. She stared at the door, heart hammering, knowing exactly who stood on the other side.

"Claire." Jake's voice was muffled, rough. "Can I come in? Please?"

"Yeah," she called out. Her voice cracked.

The door opened slowly. Jake stood there, his hair messy, his eyes dark. He looked wrecked. He looked beautiful.

"I'm sorry," he said immediately, stepping inside, closing the door behind him. "I should've knocked. I should've...fuck, I shouldn't have looked. I should've left immediately."

"Stop." Claire held up her hand. Her fingers were still sticky. She shoved them into her hoodie pocket, cheeks burning. "You don't need to apologize. I'm the one who's..." Her throat closed. She forced the words out. "I'm the fucked-up one here. Not you."

Jake's expression shifted. He crossed the room in three strides.

"You're not fucked up," he said quietly. His hand lifted and brushed a tear she didn't know she'd shed off her cheek. His thumb was rough. "Claire, look at me."

She couldn't. She stared at his chest instead, watching it rise and fall, watching the way his breath hitched when she accidentally swayed closer.

"Hey." His fingers caught her chin, gentle but firm, tilting her face up. His eyes searched hers. "You're not broken. You're just starving."

The word hit her like a physical blow. Yes. She'd been starving for years, surviving on crumbs, on "good girl" and "not yet" and "be patient."

"I saw the tears," Jake said softly, his thumb tracing her jawline. "When I walked in. You were crying."

Claire's breath hitched. "I always cry. When I..." She couldn't finish. When I make myself come to your video.

"Richard," she blurted out, the confession tumbling free before she could stop it. "My boss. He said I can't have the promotion unless I fuck him. He's been touching me. For months. And I let him because I didn't know how to say no, because I'm so fucking tired of being small, and I came home tonight and I just wanted to feel..." Her voice broke. "I wanted to feel like I had a choice. Like my body was mine. And then I found your videos, and you...and I just wanted..."

She was sobbing now, ugly and messy, years of repression cracking open. Jake's hands moved to her face, cupping her cheeks, his thumbs wiping at tears that wouldn't stop coming.

"Shh," he whispered. "I got you. I got you, Claire."

His eyes dropped to her mouth, then lower, to where her hoodie had slipped off one shoulder, exposing the strap of her tank top.

"Do you want to know?" he asked, his voice dropping an octave. "What it feels like? Instead of just watching?"

Claire stopped breathing.

"Because I could show you," he continued, his thumb tracing her lower lip now, pulling it down slightly. "I could teach you what your body is actually for."

Claire nodded. She didn't trust her voice.

Jake's hands moved to her waist, laying her down. He stood over her, looking at her like she was something precious and filthy.

"Tell me to stop," he said, "and I stop. Anytime. No matter what. You understand?"

He stripped her slowly. The hoodie first, pulling it over her head. Revealing her breasts. Small, sensitive, her nipples hard and aching. He groaned when he saw them.

"Fuck," he breathed. "Look at you."

The sweatpants came next, dragged down her legs along with her underwear, leaving her completely bare while he was still fully dressed. Claire should have felt exposed, vulnerable, but the way Jake looked at her like she was a feast he'd been denied made her feel powerful.

He climbed onto the bed, settling between her thighs, his breath hot against her stomach. "I'm going to taste you now," he said.

His mouth descended.

The first lick was broad, flat, filthy. Claire's back arched off the bed, a sound tearing from her throat that she'd never made before. He ate her like he was starving too, like he'd been thinking about this for weeks, his tongue circling her clit, his hands spreading her open, his moans vibrating against her most sensitive flesh.

"Jake..." she gasped, her fingers finding his hair, pulling hard.

He brought her to the edge with his tongue, then backed off, then did it again, and again, until she was sobbing, begging, her thighs shaking around his head. "Please, please, I need..."

"I know what you need," he growled, and then he slid two fingers inside her, curling them, pressing against that spot while his tongue flicked her clit and Claire came apart.

She screamed. She couldn't help it. The orgasm crashed through her like a wave, like a wrecking ball. Her pussy clenched around his fingers, her vision went white, and she was still coming, still shaking, when Jake rose up over her, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes black with want.

"Again," he said. "But with me inside you this time."

He stripped fast and Claire got her first real look at him. Defined abs, a trail of dark hair leading down to his cock, which was thick and hard and already leaking, straining toward her like it knew exactly where it belonged.

"Tell me," he demanded, settling between her legs, the head of him pressing against her entrance, hot and heavy.

"Yes," she breathed. "Please. Jake, please..."

He slid inside.

So slow she felt every inch, every vein, every pulse of him stretching her, filling her. He was bigger than her toys, thicker. They both moaned when he bottomed out, his hips flush against hers, his forehead dropping to rest against her shoulder.

"Fuck," he gritted out. "You're so tight. So wet. You feel..." He pulled back slightly, thrust in hard, making her cry out. "You feel like heaven."

He started moving. Slow at first, teaching her how to roll her hips to take him deeper. Then faster, harder, the bed hitting the wall.

"Touch yourself," Jake commanded, shifting his angle so he hit that spot inside her with every thrust. "I want to feel you come on my cock."

Claire's hand drifted down, finding her clit, circling it in the way she'd learned from his videos. The dual sensation was too much. She was climbing again.

"That's it," Jake groaned, his thrusts getting erratic, losing rhythm.

Claire came with his name tearing from her throat, her pussy clamping down on him so hard he cursed, his own orgasm following immediately, hot and deep inside her, marking her, claiming her.

They collapsed together, tangled and sweating and shaking. Jake rolled them onto their sides without pulling out, keeping them connected, his hand stroking her hair, her back, her thigh, like he couldn't stop touching her.

"Okay?" he whispered against her temple.

Claire laughed, the sound wet and broken. "I don't think I've ever been okay in my life until right now."

He smiled, that crooked smirk she'd seen on camera, but softer now, private. Just for her. "Good. Because we're not done."