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After round one, we indulged in another. First, we refilled my wine and Jax opened another beer. We chatted about the time he failed his final and had to beg Mr. Tennison to let him make it up. About me writing the worst last-minute paper ever for Mrs. Kingsley because I spent the weekend camping with Jax, Beth, and Barrett. He talked about the ins and outs of starting his own business and I reminisced about the television show I starred in coming to an end, which left me feeling orphaned. We started kissing again on the couch and made love on it again, too, thanks to Jax having stashed no fewer than three condoms into his jeans pockets before he stepped into this house.
Which means there’s one more in there.
“What about this morning?” I ask, my voice a teasing lilt.
He takes my hand and thrusts it under the covers, where I encounter what might be a steel rod but what I’m certain is several hard inches of Jackson Burke. I grip his erection and stroke gently. He pushes into my hand, his lips going to mine without hesitation.
“Why, when you touch me,” he groans as I stroke him again, “does it make every other sexual encounter rote by comparison?”
“Every other?” I complain.
He grips my fist with his own and now we’re both holding his cock as he’s guiding me with another sensual stroke.
“Not that many. Don’t freak out.”
“I’m not.” I don’t like to think about Jax with other women, but I know that as I moved on, he would’ve had to, too.
“Good.” He takes his hand off mine and slides his fingers into my panties instead. “What’s this remind you of? This room. Lying here. Turning each other on and daring each other not to stop.”
“In spite of the party going on downstairs,” I manage with a gasp as he continues his slick assault. “But we couldn’t stop.”
“Fuck no we couldn’t.” He slips a finger deep inside me and I moan. A second joins it and I loosen my hold and move my fist faster than before. He mutters something nonsensical, a nonword, before rolling on top of me. Our mouths mate and our hands continue being busy, and neither of us is interested in stopping what we’re doing now, either.
“Finish me,” he requests, “but you first.”
“I don’t know. You sound like you may come first.” I continue stroking and he must realize I have a point. His fingers exit my body and he pulls my hand from his cock. Then he kisses my stomach before lowering his face and granting me one long lick. He unerringly locates my clit, and my hips arch toward his mouth.
My fingers nest in his hair as I thrust toward him. So, so, so good. Damn, I forgot how good this felt. The idea of it faded until I was sure oral sex this good was a mythical beast. Or that maybe I’d imagined it was better than it was. Sadly, no. I had that wrong this whole time because it’s hot and slick and wet and mind-blowing.
“Worth the wait.” I barely eke out the words. Jax surfaces and I raise my head off the pillow to protest. “Don’t stop, please.”
“Wait…What did you just say?” His voice is low and firm, his lips soclose to where I need them.
“Nothing. Never mind.”
“Fuck that.” His lips tip with mischief. He’s going to torture this out of me.
“I don’t let anyone do that,” I admit.
“No one?”
“Not since you.”
A feral light flashes in his eyes. He holds me hostage with that hot gaze as he lowers his mouth to me again and revives his efforts. I want to look away, but I can’t. Hypnotized by the invisible thread that ties me to him. I have the crazed thought that maybe that thread has always been there, and we’re just now aware of it.
That thought fizzles when he slides his fingers home and gentles me to a powerful orgasm a moment later. I come, hips thrusting, mind reeling, nipples tingling.
“So, so good,” are the last words I mutter before my eyes sink shut. Weak from the release and by the realization that it’s Jackson. It’s always been Jackson.
I’m too exhausted to fight that thought so it loiters, alive and uncomfortable until I doze off with the morning sun on my face.
I wake again, my body warm though the tingles have faded. I’m under the covers and Jackson is standing at the side of my bed buttoning and zipping his jeans.
“What happened?” I croak.
He grins, wolfish and charming. Then he goes to his knees, arms folded on the edge of my mattress and says, “You came so hard you had to take a nap. How ya feelin’?”
“Incredible.” Maybe better than that. “What about you?”
