Page 26 of Diesel’s Second Chance

Then she takes me deep again, and this time she doesn't hold back. Her head bobs faster, tongue swirling around the head every time she pulls up. Saliva drips down my shaft, makes everything slick and messy and so fucking good I can barely breathe.

I can feel the orgasm building at the base of my spine. Too fast, too soon, but I've been wanting this for twenty years and my body doesn't care about timing.

"June," I warn, voice strained. "Baby, I'm close…"

She doubles down instead of pulling back, taking me even deeper.

"Fuck! June, stop, I'm going to—"

She doesn't stop. Keeps working me with her mouth and hands, pushing me right to the edge.

"June!" I grab her shoulder, pull her off my cock before I lose it completely. "Stop. I'm about to come."

She sits back on her heels, breathing hard, lips red and swollen. "Isn't that the point?"

"Not like this." I pull her up, roll us so she's under me again. "When I come, I want to be inside you. Want to feel you around me."

Her eyes go wide. "Jackson…"

"Tell me you want that too," I say, settling between her thighs. "Tell me you want me inside you."

"Yes," she gasps. "God, yes. Please."

Chapter 8 - June

*Please.*

The desperation in my voice surprises me. I've never begged for anything like this, never let myself be this vulnerable, this exposed.

Jackson's eyes lock onto mine, brown and fierce with desire, and something awakens in his expression. The restraint he's been holding onto shatters.

He kisses me. His mouth claims mine like he owns it, tongue sliding past my lips, teeth scraping my bottom lip hard. I kiss him back just as roughly, fingernails raking down his spine, and the groan that rumbles through his chest makes heat pool low in my belly.

"Need to be inside you," he says against my mouth. "Right fucking now."

"Yes." I spread my legs wider, feel the blunt head of his cock pressing against my entrance. "Jackson, yes—"

It's been seven years since I've done this, and Jackson's thick, thicker than I remember Tommy being, though comparing them makes guilt flash through me for half a second before pleasure wipes it away.

"Breathe," Jackson murmurs, holding still. "Relax for me, baby."

I try. Force my muscles to unclench, force my hips to tilt up and take more of him. He slides in another inch, and I whimper at the burn.

"Too much?" His voice is strained.

"No." I dig my heels into the mattress, trying to pull him deeper. "More. Give me more."

He groans and pushes forward in one long, steady thrust until he's buried completely. We both freeze: him because he's clearly trying not to come, me because I'm so full I can barely think.

His chest crushes mine, flattening my breasts. I can feel every breath he takes, every tremor in his muscles as he holds himself still. The scent of his skin, salt and motor oil, fills my lungs.

"Move," I whisper.

He pulls back slowly, the drag of his cock against my inner walls making my eyes roll back. Then he drives forward hard enough to punch the air from my lungs.

"Fuck," I gasp.

Jackson sets a punishing rhythm. Deep, powerful thrusts that make the headboard slam against the wall. I wrap my legs around his waist, heels digging into his ass, pulling him even deeper.