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Chapter 37: Sex Aftercare

Jace Herondale

Jace was kissing me. Deep, drugging kisses that made my toes curl.

But then he pressed into me again, pushing my thighs apart, gripping my hips and plunging forward, and I forgot about everything else. The sensation of him entering me was unlike anything else. And the look of determined concentration on his face, like he was almost in pain with how good it felt? I understood that exactly. It was almost too much to bear.

His every movement was controlled, each one designed to bring me maximum pleasure. I never wanted this to end.

“Has anyone ever fucked you like this?”

“No. Never.” That was the honest truth. He was so deep and so possessive, so vocal, commanding my attention and demanding submission. It was like fitting a key into a locked box.

Watching his thick length spear me—part me, plunge deep inside and then withdraw, wet with our juices—was almost obscene. When he bottomed out, I ground my hips against his pelvis, lost to the sensation. Isabelle’s brother fucked
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