Sweet Like Cinnamon | JJK 18+

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚all mine, all yours {end!}

I've been reading all day. Turns out, the book was part of a trilogy.

I've been in a pissy mood, whining and grumbling, and I'm about to give up. I've been patient, but he's not home yet.

I've moved from the couch to his room, and I'm spread across his bed propped on my heels and forearms as I read.

My phone lights up with a text, and I scramble to retrieve it, my features falling when I read it.

Jungkook: We're stopping for food. Be home in an hour.

An hour?

I groan.

My body's aching with need, and he'll be home in an hour?

I don't want to wait an hour; I've been waiting all day.

I push back onto my butt and raise my eyes toward the ceiling.

Being patient is such a nuisance.

I resume reading grudgingly at first, but my interest quickly peaks once more.

The protagonist keeps being praised by her love interest, and I scowl.

I could do so much better. I deserve to be praised. I could do better. I could.

He tells her to touch him, and she lowers to her knees.

I imagine dropping to my knees for Jungkook and opening my mouth without being told. I imagine the praise he would give me for doing that and the praise that would follow me sucking around him.

I subconsciously grind into the mattress, and my mouth falls open.

It feels so good.

I keep reading, grinding while I do, but as the feeling builds, my eyes lose focus as my breathing intensifies.

I try my best to read, but it's nearly impossible as I chase my orgasm. It's right there, and all I can think about is Jungkook helping me reach it.

Tears sting the back of my eyes.

I need him.

I grind faster, deeper, doing anything I can to cum, but my mind keeps informing me how much better it would feel with Jungkook here.

I lower my hand between my legs and soothe my fingers across the fabric of my shorts. I rub slightly, wishing it was Jungkook's hand I was grinding on.

Grind on my hand, Hazel. That's right, just like that. You're going to cum all over my hand, aren't you?

The dirty words accelerate the ecstasy and my movement, and I'm barely breathing as I try my best to reach my peak.

I'm almost there, I can feel it, but my movements freeze when a voice breaks through my vivid imagination.

I turn to meet his gaze, unable to stop the moan that leaves me.

His body is shiny with sweat, and my mind immediately flits to his movements while dancing. The swaying, the body rolling, the grinding, his facial expression, and I imagine he's performing every single move against me.

He enters his room, closing the door and locking it behind him.

His eyes are locked on mine, and the intensity in them makes my body burn.

"Hazel," he speaks lowly, his tone raspy.

My ears perk up although I can feel myself shrink away as shyness appears.

I thought he would be home in an hour.

His gaze travels downward, taking me in hungrily. I accept his attention just as much, waiting in nervous anticipation for his words to arrive.