It didn’t matter, because I wasn’t blind anymore. I could see clearly what Jack wanted, and I wanted the same thing.
We didn’t say a word to each other for a full five minutes, and as intoxicating as the eye contact was, I was looking at the windows in the house, watching as they turned off one by one – first Phil and Jack’s room, then Grey’s, and then Chloe and mine. I took the briefest of moments to lament the fact that I wouldn’t be finishing the book I’d brought with me as planned, but I wasn’t mad; my plans were definitely looking up. Finally Fatima and Jared’s ground floor bedroom light went off, and it took almost no time at all for me to step around the picnic table and climb onto Jack’s lap, my dress bunching up around my thighs as I pressed my mouth to his. I wedged myself between him and the table, using the tight fit as leverage to press myself against him. I’d been watching him eye-fuck me all dinner, and now I was ready for the real thing.
And clearly Jack was, too. Almost immediately, one hand slipped up under my dress to palm my ass, whilst the other teased up my back until it found my hair, dispensing with the claw clip so my curls fell around both our faces. He bit my lower lip softly and then plunged his tongue against mine. The hand in my hair found its way down towards my shoulder, his thumb rubbing up and down my windpipe and along my collarbone, his other hand on my back, pulling me so tightly into him that I could barely breathe.
This man was starving, and frankly so was I.
He broke our kiss, and I gasped for air as he moved his mouth to my ear just like earlier, kissing along it and behind it and doing something with his tongue that was so effective I couldn’t even decipher what it was exactly, only that it was working. I moved my hips against him, and I felt him harden in response.
“I want you so badly,” he said, his voice so low and gravelly that it could only be described as a growl. The romance girlies were right – growling was fucking hot. I felt a throbbing between my legs telling me all the blood-flow was there right now. That was okay, who needed cognitive function anyway when months of slow burn were finally coming to fruition? In that moment, all that mattered was whatever the fuck Jack was doing with his other hand, which was no longer palming my ass and was instead on the bottom of my thigh, reaching up between my legs, kneading the flesh there so it spread me apart, bringing me closer into him, his fingertips brushing against the lacy underwear I’d put on after changing out of my gown. Now I was cursing the fact that I’d worn any at all, angling myself further into his touch with each breath.
“I want you, too,” I said, my own voice more growly than I would have expected. Clearly Jack found it just as hot as I did though, based on how he hardened noticeably more when I spoke. Or maybe it was what I was saying. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”
Then I cursed myself for saying anything, as Jack’s hand came away from where it was brushing against me, and his tongue stopped doing the thing. Instead he brought both hands to my cheeks to cradle my face, resting my forehead against his.
“You have no fucking idea,” he said. “I think part of me has wanted you since the moment I saw you. If you want me, I’m yours.”
Then he dropped one hand and brought it between us, this time in the front.Oh, thank god.
“Is this okay?” he asked, his hand held in midair just in front of my belly.
I nodded eagerly in response, swallowing hard, and his hand passed through the slit in my dress and underneath the lace that had been so in the way before. The heel of his hand pressed almost uncomfortably hard into my pelvis, but I didn’t even care, because his fingers were now moving slowly through my wetness, just enough pressure where I wanted it, but not too focused. Not yet.
“You walked into Fatima’s that day in January,” he said as he stroked, and I started to tip my head back in pleasure, but he stopped me with his free hand, bringing my forehead back to his, locking eyes with me. “Your cute little dungarees and your single set of dice. You had no idea what you were in for. I didn’t, either. But it only took five minutes alone with you to know that if you wanted me, I was yours.”
As he talked, he zeroed in on the spot that was now throbbing so hard I felt like he must have been able to feel my heartbeat through his fingers. And just as I felt like he was getting too close, too concentrated, he plunged two fingers inside me and pressed his palm against the spot he’d just been circling, the friction building as he stroked inside me.
“Fuck,” I said, tilting my head back again, bracing myself against the table with my hands, and he let me go that time, his free hand holding me up by the neck, a bit of light pressure around my throat. “J-jack, that f-feels s-so good,” I croaked out. “P-please…”
“Please what?” he growled again into my ear, and I felt myself right on the precipice. But I wasn’t ready to go over yet.
“D-don’t you w-want to be ins-side me? W-when I c-come?”
But Jack didn’t relent. “I’m already inside you. There’s plenty of time for that later,” he said, and the way he said “later” sent images flashing through my mind of all the times we could have been doing this – in the guest room earlier, in his car, under the stars on our very first outing… How did we go so long without this??
“Come for me, Morgan.”
That sent me toppling straight over the edge, and I clenched around him in ecstasy. He released my throat as I gasped in huge mouthfuls of air. His fingers kept their pace, drawing out my orgasm as long as possible, and I ground against his hand until I was fully sated.
I collapsed back so I was sitting on the table, and he buried his face against my chest, his hair flopping into my mouth. I clutched his head to me like I was holding onto it for dear life; I felt so weightless that part of me thought I might float away if I didn’t.
It was a long moment before either of us moved, despite the beads of sweat I could feel running down my back and between my breasts. I was sure Jack was getting the worst of it with his head buried there, though maybe it was worth it to him for a face full of tits.
After a couple of minutes, though, once my breathing had abated and his hands had moved to my back, we finally leaned apart.
“You said you had other hopes for that night two weeks ago,” he said. “Was that a bit closer to what you had in mind?”
Between the heat, the mead, and what had just happened, my throat was parched enough that I couldn’t muster any words, so I just nodded my head. Jack must have noticed the slight dehydrated smack of my lips, because he lifted his glass of water to offer me a sip. I tipped it greedily backwards.
“Better?”
I nodded. “Much better. Thank you.”
It took another minute for us to finally move apart and stand up in a way that didn’t feel jarring, and I noticed with satisfaction that he was still hard. We stacked the plates and glasses and carried them inside, not wanting to leave too much mess for the morning. Then Jack laced his fingers in mine, and something about our interlocked fingers and the casual intimacy they conveyed made me feel flutters all over again.
Jack stopped me in the hallway and pressed a kiss to my lips, backing me against the kitchen door, a reverse of our position from earlier when we’d kissed for the first time. And almost surprisingly, this one was no less urgent. Clearly we’d be working out this tension for a long time to come, but I didn’t mind that one bit.
Once we were done snogging in the hallway like a couple of school kids, we turned into the lounge at the front of the house, thinking we’d be able to be alone together, only to find Phil asleep on the sofa, a tiny woven throw wrapped around him as he rested his head on a decorative lumbar pillow. He was snoring lightly – I was surprised we hadn’t woken him up.
