It’s November, and I’m writing the ninth and final Jason and Azazel book. In celebration, every Tuesday and Thursday (TnT), I’ll be posting scenes from previous Jason and Azazel books. Obviously, if you haven’t read the series, thar be spoilers in these parts. Read at your own risk!
The orgasm scene from Tortured:
I flopped back on the bed. â€œWhat are we going to do now?â€ I asked the ceiling.
â€œDo a Google search for Agnes in Tuscany?â€ he suggested.
I glared at him.
â€œMaybe,â€ he said, â€œwe should wish really hard for all the answers to come to us while kissing heavily.â€
I laughed. â€œThat was another of my ideas that didnâ€™t work!â€
â€œIt might have worked,â€ said Jason. â€œHe did come back. And after we beat him senseless, he was actually kind of nice.â€
I whacked him with the pillow. He yanked the pillow away from me. â€œWhat?â€ he said. â€œDonâ€™t you want to kiss me, Azazel?â€ He began tickling me and kissing whatever part of me he could get his lips onâ€”my elbow, my shoulder, my nose.
I struggled away from his hands, laughing and gasping for breath. â€œStop! Stop!â€ I told him, trying to push him off me.
Jason pinned me down with his legs, forcing himself on top of me to keep tickling me. I punched at his chest, grabbed at his hands, still laughing. â€œStop!â€ I said again.
â€œNo, no,â€ he drawled, imitating a redneck accent. â€œIâ€™m going to learn you, woman. If you donâ€™t kiss me, you get tickled.â€ He caught my hands, which werenâ€™t having any effect on him anyway and pinned them above my head. Then he kissed my lips, long and sweet. And he stopped tickling me.
My giggles faded into sighs. Within a few seconds, his hold on my hands loosened, and I was free to let my hands roam over his back and to play with the stubble on his head.
â€œI like the way your head feels,â€ I said.
He broke the kiss, propping himself up to look at me, one eyebrow raised.
I playfully punched him again. â€œYou know what I meant,â€ I said. Then I couldnâ€™t suppress a slightly wicked grin. â€œBut I guess you could take it the other way too.â€
He rolled over next to me, pulling me into his arms. I snuggled against his shoulder.
â€œLast night,â€ he murmured, â€œI was kind of… I mean, I know you didnâ€™t… finish. Iâ€™m sorry. I didnâ€™t even try.â€
I ran my fingers lightly over the stubble on his head, trying to think of how to respond.
Jason started talking again. â€œI want you toâ€”â€
Impulsively, I grabbed Jasonâ€™s hand and moved it onto my body.
â€œAzazel?â€ he said.
â€œShh,â€ I said to him.
I put my hand over his, guiding him over my skin, showing him where to put his fingers. For a couple of seconds, I was frightened, because it felt like before, when Jason had tried to do this. It felt like nothing. I closed my eyes, trying to listen to my body, ask it where it wanted to be touched. And then, together, we found it. The place.
â€œLike that?â€ Jason asked. He sounded surprised and turned on all at the same time.
â€œYeah,â€ I breathed, moving my hand and letting Jasonâ€™s stay there.
â€œYeah,â€ I said, half choking on it. That was very good.
It took forever. It felt really good, but it took forever. Several times, I was just kind of lost in the sensation of it, floating in this warm, sweet feeling, and I suddenly remembered how long it had been going on. I snapped my head a few times up to ask Jason if he was getting bored or if his fingers were getting tired. The third time I did it, Jason growled in my ear, â€œShut up, Azazel. Iâ€™m not bored. And I love those little noises youâ€™re making.â€
But then, several centuries later, it happened. It was a bursting feeling. It was like flowers opening up or a sweet crescendo of thunder across the sky. It was lovely. I opened my eyes and saw Jason looking at me, and I started crying. He brushed the tears away from my cheeks. â€œWas that okay?â€ he asked.
Like he had to ask.