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“One more, sweetheart.” In a tender move that so contrasts the harsh way he's assaulting my pussy, his free hand smoothes my hair away from my face before cupping my cheek. “I wanna see you.”
A long, low moan rips from my throat as he curls his fingers, stroking just the right spot to have me soaking his hand for a third time. His eyes stay trained on me, never leaving my face once, and I have to close my own because it’s too fucking much.
It feels like an age passes before I finally come down from the high. Or highs. It goes on for so long, I can't tell where one ends and another might start. It's almost embarrassing how loud I whimper, how empty I feel, when he pulls out of me, bringing his hand to his mouth and licking his fingers clean. Mine go to his waistband, rising up on shaky knees so I can tug the material separating us down.
I'm tired, blissfully worn out, but I want, I need, more.
His cock slaps against his stomach as I pull him free from his boxers, painfully hard and leaking from the tip. I wrap my fingers around him and he twitches in my hand, my pussy clenching in response as I imagine him twitching inside of me.
Yeah, I most definitely fucking missed that.
Like he did to me, I kiss from the corner of his mouth to his neck, grazing my teeth along his jawline. “Please, Jackson.” I squeeze his cock and he groans. “Please, fuck me.”
It's like a flip switches.
His body tenses, his hand wrapping around my wrist and tugging, his voice almost pained as he murmurs, “Stop.”
I snatch my hand back like he's burned me. Sitting back on his thighs, I frown. “What's wrong?”
He avoids eye contact, staring at a spot behind my head, and I feel the need to cross my arms over my bare chest, to make myself a little less vulnerable. Especially when he says, “We can't.”
I groan. Not this again. “Jackson, I swear to God, I'm not seeing anyone. I-”
“For fuck's sake, Luna, I don't wanna fuck you.”
It’s not his words that have my head snapping back. It’s his harsh, sharp tone. The confusing anger. The regret lurking in his eyes.
Mistake. That's what his face says.
Mistake, mistake, mistake.
The back of my throat itches as I scramble off his lap, diving for my dress and yanking it over my head, snatching my bag off the floor and barrelling for the door before he even stands up. “Lu, wait.”
Embarrassment and the sting of rejection fuel my movements as I wrench the front door open. I jump when it slams shut again, Jackson's hand coming down on the wood so hard, it groans. “Luna, I didn't-”
“Please,” I croak out. “Please just let me leave before we do anything else I'll regret.”
The tense, huffed breath he lets out tickles the back of my neck. My nails dig into my palms as the arm beside my head retracts slowly. The second it disappears from my peripheral, I'm out the door and stumbling down the drive.
I think he calls after me again but it's blocked by the sound of my car door slamming shut and the engine sputtering to life, tearing out of that place so fast I'm surprised my wheels don't let out a Fast and Furious worthy squeal.
I wait until the house is safely out of sight before I let a tear slip out.
46
JACKSON
Fuck.
I can't stop staring at the door Luna just slammed shut. The one she ran out of with tears in her eyes and hurt heavy around her.
What the fuck did I just do?
My head drops back against the sofa as I let out a frustrated groan. If my dick could groan, it would. I'm fucking rock hard, and no amount of slow breathes or thinking of turn-offs is going to calm it down. Not when it knows it was a handful of pumps away from coming all over Luna's stomach and tits. Or inside of her.
Fuck.
I half-shudder, half-wince as I tuck myself back in my jeans, purposely avoiding looking at the wet spot staining the front. God, I'm not even sure if it's from me or her. Both, probably. Mostly her though, if the way she soaked my fingers is anything to go by.
