Hannah. (Van Den Bosch #7)

Chapter 20

20

Hannah

As soon as we’re past the doorway, Johan’s mouth is on me, his hands on my waist. He lifts me up and carries me over to the bed, laying me down in the middle of the white duvet.

“God, Hannah,” Johan breathes, “you have no idea what you do to me.” His voice is low and husky, filled with a mix of admiration and desire.

I’m unable to respond because he’s climbing over me, his knee nudging my thighs apart, and he’s leaning down to capture my mouth. His hand is sliding up my thigh, teasing the bare skin at the waist of my jeans, and then he’s pushing in and tracing the edge of the lace on my panties, making me jerk and gasp.

“Johan….”

He doesn't stop. His lips are on mine, his tongue exploring my mouth, his hand slipping under the fabric. Two fingers slide through the damp folds and find the bundle of nerves there, and I moan into his mouth, arching into his hand. It’s all happening so fast, like a train going off the rails. His movements are confident and practiced, while I feel like I can't control anything about my body.

Then his hand retreats, and I whimper in protest, wanting the exquisite friction to continue, but he chuckles.

“Don’t worry, love. I have better plans for you.”

Johan reaches back, tugging at the button and zip of my jeans, and then rolls off of me so that he can get them off. I lift my hips, allowing him to strip me of my pants and panties, and then he leans down to kiss me, his tongue tangling with mine while his hand returns to its exploration.

“Oh God,” I moan when his thumb starts to circle the sensitive flesh, and then he slips a finger into me, but just barely.

“Baby, you’re so wet,” he says in a low voice. “Do you want more?”

“Please,” I plead, not caring how desperate I sound.

He adds a second finger, stretching me just slightly, and his thumb speeds up, bringing me closer to the edge. Johan’s mouth closes over mine, muffling the sounds falling from my lips, and my body is trembling, my fingers clawing at the bedspread.

This is only the beginning. I know we’re going to have sex this weekend, and even with his hands between my legs, it seems impossible that we will go that far. But I want it. I want it so badly. I’m aching inside, desperate for something to fill me. Why in the hell is he staying so shallow?

Ah. The pesky business of my virginity. Getting any of the pain out of the way now means that there won’t be any distractions when it comes time for...well, the main event. I roll my hips, trying to bring his fingers deeper into me, but he pulls his hand away as I do so, refusing to give in to me.

“Johan,” I huff in annoyance. “I need you.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he admits, his gaze softening as he speaks. “The thought of causing you pain kills me.”

This sweet man. I’d do anything to have him. Pain is nothing as long as he’s mine. “Do it,” I breathe, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’m ready.”

Johan's two fingers are in my channel, but only a knuckle deep. My heart swells at how careful he is with me, like fine porcelain set to break. “This will be uncomfortable. I won’t lie to you,” he warns. “But it will only hurt for a second. Okay?”

I nod, and Johan slides his fingers further into me, then out. In and out, he sets up a rhythm. My fists ball around the blanket beneath me, and my breath comes in short gasps. There's a tiny, almost imperceptible pinch, but I’m tense enough to feel it all.

“Hannah, relax. This will go easier for you if you relax.”

“Okay,” I exhale shakily, “Okay, I'll try.”

His fingers are a lot bigger than mine, and it takes some coaxing, but finally, he’s fully sheathed within me.

“Are you okay?”

I nod. “Y-yeah. It feels…weird.”

Johan chuckles. “Like I said, give it a second."

Sure enough, the feeling quickly turns from an ache to a pleasant pressure, and I loosen my grip on the quilt.

“See?” he asks gently. “I told you.”

He leans in and kisses me, and it's so sweet and tender. His lips are soft against mine and it's only a matter of time before I’m melting against him. He breaks the kiss, his mouth ghosting over my jaw until his lips graze the shell of my ear. “Watch me touch you.”

With effort, I crack open my eyes, glancing down the length of my body. Johan's fingers are working me, the muscles standing out on his forearm, and I watch his thumb move in rapid, tight circles. I can't last much longer like this.

How can this be straight-laced, buttoned-up Johan here with his hand between my legs, his big body hovering over mine? I want to slow down time, soak in every ounce of this moment, and revel in it later when I’m alone in my dorm, wishing he were with me. But I also can't hold back any longer.

“Johan,” I moan, the pleasure so intense I can barely think. “Oh, gosh…”

“I love seeing you like this. So needy, so drenched for me.”

It’s not just his fingers or the way they’re pumping in and out of me or the way his thumb is rubbing my clit; it's the sound of his voice. Hot and deep and oh so familiar.

The orgasm slams into me, and I cry out, my back bowing. My vision goes white, and Johan's free arm locks around my waist, holding me steady, even as his other hand is relentless. He pulls me close, body to body, his hair mussed and falling into my face as he kisses every available inch of it, bringing me down from heaven inch by glorious inch.

And this is just the start. God, how the hell will I survive it?

“Are you okay?” he murmurs.

I can only manage a nod, my throat thick. I swallow and lick my dry lips. Johan's gaze is fixated on my mouth, and his nostrils flare, a flash of something predatory crossing his features. But then it softens, falling away into something gentler as he brushes my hair from my face. There are two sides to this man, and I have a feeling I’ll see them both this weekend.

“Let me get you a drink,” he says, a small smile playing on his lips. “You look parched. Wait here.”

He leaves the bedroom, leaving me alone with my thoughts. So...that just happened. The make-out session at his apartment in his bed was one thing, but now we've gone from kisses and caresses to something overtly sexual. I wiggle under the blankets while I wait for him, the little aftershocks of my orgasm blooming across my skin like miniature lightning storms. The muscles of my inner thighs twitch, and when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror on the vanity across the room, I can see that my cheeks and neck are flush. I look thoroughly ravished, and we've barely even done anything.

Johan returns, and the sight of him has me sighing, smitten all over again. His shirt is unbuttoned, the sleeves rolled up, and his hair is messed up like he’s been running his hands through it. He hands me a glass of still water, and I sit up, taking it from him. Our fingers brush, and electricity crackles up my spine.

“Thanks,” I tell him.

“Of course.”

Feeling brave in my post-orgasm haze, I reach out and brush my hand through his hair, pushing it away from his forehead. Johan's eyes flutter shut, and his hand wraps around my wrist, holding my palm to his cheek before placing a kiss in the center of it.

“Did you enjoy that?”

“Yes,” I reply honestly, “I did. What about you?”

Johan chuckles. “My hard-on can attest to that.”

Blushing, I glance down at the bulge in his slacks, but then his hands are on either side of my face, and he’s leaning in for another kiss. Right before our lips can connect, a jaw-cracking yawn overtakes me. Johan pulls back, and we blink at each other. I’m mortified.

He clears his throat. “Hannah, it's alright if you want to rest?—”

“No,” I cut in, fighting against the sleepiness overtaking me. “We came all this way, and I’m not giving up now.”

“And we will have all day tomorrow and Sunday. Look at yourself; you look like you’re about to fall asleep right here and now,” he points to the mirror across from the bed, and damn him, he’s right. The flush still remains, but my eyelids are heavy.

He drags a hand over his face and laughs a little self-consciously. “This might just be my pride talking, but I want to be the only focus of your attention when we do this. I want you wide awake, fully with me. So let's just...you know, cuddle tonight. Let me hold you, wake up with you in my arms. And we will see where the day takes us.”

My heart swells so much it feels like my chest can’t contain it, and I nod, overcome with emotion. Johan stands, strutting to the bathroom door and pulling off one of the soft white robes hanging on a hook, bringing it back to me. Oh, that's right. I’m still naked from the waist down.

“Go change,” he urges, watching me with heated eyes as I slide the robe over my shoulders and cover myself with it, tying it tight. “I'll be here when you get back.”

Going through my usual nighttime rituals with Johan in the bedroom right on the other side of the door is a tad odd, to say the least. Regardless, in the privacy of the bathroom, I brush my teeth, wash my face, and then change into pajamas––a silky camisole and matching shorts. When I walk out, he’s also switched to gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt.

“Can I use the bathroom for a moment?” he asks.

“Of course,” I reply, stepping aside. As he disappears into the bathroom, I head to bed, feeling the exhaustion of the day finally catching up to me. I slip under the covers and settle in, my eyes growing heavier by the second.

A few minutes later, Johan joins me in bed. He slides in beside me, wrapping his arms around me. I’ve never had a man in bed with me, and I swiftly conclude that it’s going to take some getting used to. Johan’s presence is so large and overwhelming that for a minute, I feel like I can't breathe. But then he pulls me against his chest, and I relax, listening to the sound of his heartbeat.

Johan's lips graze my temple, and the warmth of his body surrounds me. It’s been a long day, and as soon as the room is dark, I can feel it all catching up with me. So much has changed, and my mind is reeling. Now that my guard is down, everything I’ve been shutting out comes flooding back. Thoughts about the school, my little thefts, Astrid disappearing from my dorm, how Johan and I will navigate this change in our relationship once we return to Cambridge….

“You’re thinking so loud,” Johan breathes into the shell of my ear. “Relax, sweetheart.”

His hand strokes down my spine, his body curving to cup mine more completely. “I like this,” I tell him unbidden as my eyes grow heavy. “I like...being with you.”

Johan’s breath hitches, and the last thing I feel before I fall asleep are his fingers tangling with mine and his lips pressing against my neck.

I wake up twice. The first time, it's still dark, but the space in the bed beside me is empty. I force my eyelids open and shift in the bed, turning until I see Johan's silhouette against the faint moonlight coming through the window. He's got a snifter of something amber in his hand and a crystal carafe, uncorked, on the side table next to him. He's looking outside, contemplative, his broad back towards me. I know him well enough to see that he’s deep in thought about something.

“Johan?” I ask, voice rough with sleep.

He turns his head slightly, but his voice is warm and comforting when speaking. “Go back to sleep, Hannah. I'll be right there.”

So I do.

When I wake up the second time, it's morning. My cheek is pressed against Johan's now bare chest, and his arm is thrown around my shoulder. My legs are tangled up with his, and he’s sleeping peacefully, his breath ruffling my hair. The sunlight streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows, and the pale walls seem even lighter in the daylight.

“Hannah, sweet girl,” Johan whispers, his fingers brushing along my bare arm. I shiver at the sensation, still flitting between sleep and wakefulness. “Let me touch you.”

“Yes,” I breathe, eyes still closed. “Touch me.”

I dip below the horizon of wakefulness again but come back to the surface entirely when I feel Johan pushing up my nightshirt, pressing his lips on the sensitive skin of my stomach. My eyes flutter open, and Johan glances up at me, his eyes glittering.

“Good morning, love,” he says and then presses a kiss above my navel. His hand is sliding down to the waistband of my shorts, and he hooks his fingers under it, tugging it down over my hips and running his tongue over one hipbone, making me inhale sharply.

“Johan,” I murmur, my eyes still adjusting to the brightness of the room.

He crawls back up my body, peeling the duvet the rest of the way off of us. He’s shirtless, and his skin is warm when my hands find his shoulders, fingers sleepily tracing the hollows of his collarbone. His lips find mine, and his tongue slides into the cavern of my mouth. There's an urgency to his movements now like he can't contain himself.

“Hannah,” Johan mutters into the kiss, and then he’s yanking down the straps of my camisole top, exposing my breasts to his hungry gaze. His mouth moves lower, kissing his way down the valley between them and closing over one nipple, the other trapped between two fingers. My back bows, and I moan, the sound foreign to my own ears.

“The years of wanting you,” he groans, “they were likely to kill me. Seeing you at Cambridge, a grown woman...you have no idea how many times I’ve stroked myself to the image of you in my mind.”

The confession sends a rush of wetness straight to my core. I want Johan so desperately, and the way his teeth are worrying my nipples, tugging on them, his hands roaming and gripping, is driving me mad.

“I have to taste you,” he says, voice thick with desire.

Oh god. My heart is pounding, and I nod. “Yes,” I repeat. “Yes, please. I want you to.”

Johan slides down my body, his palms skimming my ribs, and he pauses between my legs. My shorts are already around my thighs, and he tugs them all the way off and tosses them aside. His hands smooth down the outsides of my thighs, and his breath is hot over me, even through the cotton of my panties.

“Wider, darling,” he tells me, and I spread my thighs apart for him, letting him see all of me.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, and then his mouth is on me through the fabric of my underwear. His lips suckle the heat and the moisture from it, and I moan, lifting my pelvis towards him, aching for more contact. Johan chuckles, his hand stroking down the plane of my stomach.

“Patience, love.”

“Please,” I whimper, and Johan pulls my panties down and off of me, tossing them over the side of the bed. Then, there's nothing separating his lips and tongue from my sex. He goes slow at first, his mouth teasing and exploring, not quite yet going where I need him most. His hands are under me, cupping my bottom, his thumbs on either side of my pussy, opening me up to him.

“J-Johan,” I pant, feeling like my heart might give out.

“It’s alright,” he soothes, “just relax.”

He starts at the sensitive flesh of my inner thighs, planting wet, open-mouthed kisses there. He trails his mouth higher, his five-o-clock shadow scratching deliciously. And then his lips are around my clit. Johan's tongue, flat and warm, swirls over it in tight circles, and I gasp, gripping his hair, the sheets, anything within reach.

“God, Hannah, you’re perfect,” Johan groans against me. “I want to make you come just like this. With my mouth.”

I’m panting, nearly delirious with pleasure. Johan is relentless, his tongue and lips working me in a steady, constant rhythm. He's still moving so damned slowly, and through the fog of my arousal, I’m sure that he’s drawing this out as long as possible for both of us. This is our weekend, our first time truly alone. I understand why he wants to make the most of it.

If he would just keep tonguing my clit, I know I'd be able to come, but he brings me to the edge before pulling away, peppering kisses on my folds and dipping his tongue deep into my pussy. Johan's hands flex on my ass cheeks, pulling my body closer each time a shudder or twitch takes me away from him.

He's loving me, I realize, taking his time to learn every inch of me, every reaction to the way he’s touching me. Johan is mapping me out, memorizing the details. And God, it's so fucking good.

“You’re going to have to tell me,” he murmurs, “What you want me to do. How can I make it good for you?”

“Don’t stop,” I gasp, “Your tongue. On my clit. Just...keep doing that. Until I––oh God.”

Johan seals his mouth over my clit, his tongue flattening against it, and then he sucks, the sound obscene and lewd. Pleasure courses through me like a tide, and I’m trembling, chasing it. Johan's hand snakes between my thighs, and he pushes a finger inside of me. The sensation is different than last night—there’s no hesitation. He knows I’m open and ready for him. After adding a second digit, he crooks his fingers, and a thrum of pleasure, impossibly deep and powerful, rolls through me.

“Fuck, Hannah,” he growls, and the vibration of his voice is what pushes me over the edge. Both of my hands bury themselves in his hair, thighs desperate to snap closed but held apart by Johan's big body between them. I ride his face, his mouth, his fingers, wave after wave crashing through me, and I’m screaming, crying out as pleasure overwhelms all of my senses.

“Johan,” I sob. “Oh, Johan. Yes. Just like that, please, please?—”

He hums his approval and fucks me with his fingers, tongue flicking across my clit in a relentless rhythm. Finally, the orgasm fades, and I collapse onto the bed. My muscles feel like they're made of jelly. Johan presses a gentle kiss on my inner thigh and then sits up, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

“Incredible,” he breathes out, looking down at me. My breasts are exposed, and my nightshirt is still rolled down. Johan is visibly hard in his gray sweatpants, and my eyes drift down to the bulge, unable to look away.

“I want to see you,” I tell him, pushing myself up on my elbows.

Johan palms himself unabashedly through the fabric, the outline of his cock making my mouth go dry. He hesitates, licking his lips as his eyes rake over my body, and with a muttered curse, he pushes the sweatpants down until they're bunched just below his thighs.

His cock jumps free, and Johan wraps a hand around it, stroking it slowly, base to tip. It’s long and thick, darker at the head, and my whole body pulses with desire when I see a bead of pre-come forming.

“Can I…” I trail off, crawling towards him, entranced. “Can I touch you?”

Johan groans and nods, and I scoot a little closer until my knees are bracketing his thighs. His cock juts proudly between us, and I reach forward, wrapping my hand around him. Johan’s dick is hot and heavy and silky smooth in my hand, and a thrill shoots through me. I’ve never done this before.

I glance up at him, his expression so full of lust it makes me quiver.

“How does it feel?” I ask quietly, “I want to make it good for you.”

“Everything you do is good,” Johan grits out, and I’ve never heard his voice so deep. “Just please fucking touch me, Hannah. Let me show you.”

Heat floods me, and I lick my palm, gripping his cock again. Johan folds his hand over mine, slowly, slowly stroking himself with my hand, showing me exactly how he likes it. I imagine him doing this alone, thrusting into his own fist, my name on his lips, and I’m wet all over again.

But this is for him, not me, even if I’m enjoying it a ridiculous amount.

Johan's hips stutter, and his head lolls back, eyes squeezed closed. “Hannah, yes. Just like that. Fuck.”

It’s incredible watching him come undone, knowing it's because of me. Johan lets go, and I pick up the pace, pumping his cock. It swells and gets even harder in my hand, and I know he’s close. His hands are braced on the mattress behind him, and he’s moaning, grunting with every twist of my wrist.

“Tell me,” I demand, “Tell me what you want.”

Johan’s eyes fly open and he looks at me, eyes burning. He grabs my hand and stops it. “I want to come, Hannah, and if you keep touching me, that's exactly what's going to happen.”

“I want you to,” I’m babbling now, stroking him once more while I’m shifting my hips back and forth to try and get some relief for my aching pussy. “Will you come for me?”

Johan curses softly, his head falling forward. His hands go to my hips, and he pulls me into his lap so that I’m straddling him, his cock resting against my belly. I can feel the heat of it, and my nipples are hard in the cool air of the room.

“Let me fuck your hand,” Johan grunts and his hands are on me, guiding me until I’ve got my fist wrapped around his length again, and he’s thrusting, the underside of his dick sliding against my stomach. “Yes,” he groans, “just like that.”

Then his mouth is on mine, and Johan's tongue is fucking into my mouth the same way his hips are thrusting into my palm. A minute later, he comes, spilling hot and wet over my fist and our stomachs, his body shaking, a deep, tortured groan ripped from his throat.

“Fuck,” he says with a gasp, forehead pressed against mine, eyes half-lidded.

I’m panting, still straddling him, his rapidly softening cock resting against my skin. I’m thunderstruck. This is all intoxicating. I never want to leave this bed.

But of course, Johan, ever practical, has other ideas.

“Let's shower,” he tells me, nipping the shell of my ear. “I’ve made a mess of us both. Then we'll get some late breakfast.”

“And come back to bed?” I urge, and he laughs.

“Tonight, darling. Tonight, I’m going to make love to you properly.”

My core throbs at his promise, and I grin, biting my lower lip. Johan raises an eyebrow.

“You’re incorrigible.” He sounds secretly thrilled by the fact. “I have to say, I’m liking this new side of you.”

Then he kisses me again, cupping my face, and the driving need from earlier is gone, replaced by a content, affectionate feeling that has me wrapping my arms around his neck and pressing against him, regardless of the mess. All I want is to be close to him...to savor these stolen hours.