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Tears of pleasure, that's a new one for me.
My whole body shakes, my insides feel like goo, and my brain is nothing but haze.
By the time he finally relents, I can barely hold myself up. I crumple, literally crumple, as weak as a sheet of paper, when he slides out from underneath me. He moves to hover over me and I watch, an odd combination of dazed and abuzz, as he licks his glossy lips and fingers clean.
Those same fingers wrap around my throat. “You still thinking of fucking someone else?”
“Hell fucking no.”
There's a challenge in his eyes, one to counter mine, and even though I don't know what the challenge is, I have a feeling I'm already the loser. Urging me upright, he swaps our places, sitting on the edge of the bed while I kneel on the floor. Leaning back on one hand, the other curls around my chin. “Prove it, sweetheart.”
I think I go a bit light-headed with giddiness.
Finally. Fuckingfinally.
Never in my life have I been excited to give someone a blowjob but here I am, all but foaming at the mouth, pathetically eager as I dive for his waistband. I don't bother teasing him. I yank down his sweats and boxers in one swoop, his thick, hard cock springing free.
Honestly, I’m a touch worried about how the fuck all of that is going to fit in my mouth but I’ll gladly accept the challenged. I want it inside me, right fucking now.
Fingers comb through my hair, collecting it in a makeshift ponytail. A smug smirk curls the corners of his mouth. “Too much for you, sweetheart?”
Asshole.
I waste no time, as eager to get him in my mouth as he is to be in there. My jaw screams, stretching wide and straining to take him, but I ignore the sting. I take him inch by inch, going slow because I have to, only stopping when he hits the back of my throat.
He's restraining himself, I can tell. Holding back. Letting me set the pace. It's nice and all, but it's not what I want.
All it takes is my eyes flicking up to meet his, my nails scraping his balls lightly, my tongue caressing the underside of his cock, and he lets go. The other side of him takes over. Gritting his teeth, he tightens his grip on my hair to an almost painful degree. His hips piston rapidly, slamming into my mouth brutally, his loud groans filling the room as he hits the back of my throat repeatedly.
My eyes water, I can barely breathe, and it's all I can do to grip his thighs and just hold the fuck on, but I love it. The brutality of it all, the pleasure rippling through his expression, the dirty praises falling from his lips and going straight to my lower belly. I fucking love every moment. I'm dripping wet, my upper thighs soaked with my arousal, and the pulsing between my legs is almost unbearable. When tears start rolling down my cheeks, Jackson falters, withdrawing slightly but when I glare up at him, pinching his thighs, he continues, even faster, even harder.
When his thrusts get sloppier, his cock twitching and swelling in my mouth, I know he's close. Gazing up at him through teary eyes, I squeeze his thigh encouragingly. And then he's coming, spilling down my throat, all but choking me but I swallow dutifully as he groans my name. When he finishes, he pulls out of his mouth with a wet plop, falling back on his elbows with a spent grunt. Head tilted to the ceiling, eyes half-closed, he mutters curses under his breath.
Sitting back on my heels, I struggle to catch my breath, tongue swiping to clean the corners of my mouth. On shaky legs, I crawl onto his lap, smoothing my hands over his thighs. His chest heaves as he tries to recover too, and when I slide my hands up his chest, I feel his heart thumping erratically. Dropping my head to the crook of his neck, I smile. “Too much for you, sweetheart?”
I barely get the comment out before I'm on my back again, his head between my legs, showing me the true definition oftoo much.
* * *
I sleep like a log the entire flight.
My throat is scratchy and raw, my scalp aches, and my thighs feel like I've pulled a muscle somewhere, but I swear it's the best sleep I've ever had.
When my mom picked me up at the airport, she took one look at me and laughed. Made a crack about how I need to learn to handle my hangovers better before dragging me to our favorite Nepalese restaurant to fix me up.
I can barely look her in the eye. It's hard to concentrate on our conversation while I stuff my face with dumplings when mere hours ago I was... well, stuffing my face with Jackson. The mere memory of it, the look in his eyes as he unleashed on me, makes me shiver.
“Cold, hun?”
I can only pray I don't look as guilty and flushed as I feel. “It's a bit draughty in here.” A blatant lie, and not even a good one. This place is the epitome of cozy, and themomosI'm devouring are definitely keeping me warm.
A whole minute of intense perusal passes before Ma smiles, wide and bright and knowing. “There's a boy.”
“What?” Even I can hear how horribly high-pitched my voice comes out. “Why would you think that?”
Ma’s grin grows. “I don't hear a denial.”
“Ma.”
