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Jackson's hands drifting to the neck of his shirt grab my attention. He works slowly, the act of him unbuttoning somehow so unreasonably hot. Almost as hot as the way he cocks his head at me, watching me like he knows something I don't. “Lean back.”
The sheets fist between my fingers as I rest back on my hands so the man staring at me with so much fucking want in his gaze can get a better view. An invisible coil in my stomach tightens at his slow perusal, trailing from my face, down my chest, settling on my closed legs. His face twists in a disapproving expression. “Spread your legs.”
I don't know why, but I hesitate. My thighs clench together, unwilling to part, as if they've forgotten this man has done much more than look before.Cowards.
“Let's not pretend you're shy, Lu,” Jackson croons, brows pitched high as he stares at me in amusement. There's something else hidden in his gaze though, something softer, and it seeps into his voice, automatically relaxing my limbs and quieting the unfamiliar flutters doing a weird dance in my stomach. “Let me see you.”
Slowly, I do as he asks. Immediately, his eyes flicker down, gaze darkening as he practically licks his lips. I damn near do the same thing when he shrugs his shirt off, revealing that tan, lean body. “Remember the morning after Halloween?”
As if I could forget.
“Touch yourself, sweetheart.”
The commanding cadence of his voice leaves me powerless to do anything but oblige. My hand slips between my legs, his eyes tracking my every move. God, all he’s done is stare at me and fucking chat a little yet I’m wet. Easily, I slip a finger inside myself and brush my clit with the heel of my hand, a small sigh escaping me as pleasure tickles my spine.
A displeased tut interrupts my brief moment of pleasure. “Just one? If you can't handle more than that, we're gonna have a problem.”
“You have complaints, you do it yourself,” I retort but nevertheless, another finger joins the first. I don’t restrain my moan, nor my hips as they buck, the sparks erupting from my core only heightened by Jackson's approving nod.
I don't take my eyes off him as he continues undressing. I don't think I could if I wanted to. I think it would physically hurt to tear my gaze away from the beautiful man looming before me.
And thesounds.
I never thought the unbuckling of a belt could be sexy. But as those thick fingers, the rings adorning them earlier missing but mine, slip it from his waist, the sound of leather and metal and jeans scraping against each other is the most erotic noise in the world. That combined with the little grunts of approval, the soft, encouraging words... God, who the fuck needs porn?
When he’s finally, blessedly, naked, Jackson fists his cock with a tight grip. One harsh stroke draws a whimper out of me, speeds up my own movements. My supporting arm buckles, and I fall back as the pressure in my lower stomach builds, so close to bursting.
A hand wrapping around mine stops that from happening.
Jackson hovers above me, his hips pressing into mine, nothing stopping his erection from digging into my stomach. “The only person making you come tonight is me. Preferably all over my cock.”
My pussy clenches at the thought. “Promises, promises.”
I barely get the retort out before a pair of lips crash down on mine, rough and demanding and utterly fucking claiming. A groan rips from my throat, or maybe from his, or maybe it's both of us, as Jackson’s lips brutalize mine, stealing every last bit of oxygen from my lungs.
Rough kisses move downwards, teeth nipping the sensitive skin of my neck, no doubt leaving marks because God knows this man loves leaving evidence of his presence.
Not that I'm complaining. Definitely not complaining.
Much to my annoyance, Jackson doesn't linger in any one place too long, showering one area of my body with attention just long enough to have me squirming before moving on and lavishing another. He kisses, no,worships, his way down, appreciating every inch of skin until I can't tell if the buzzing is a result of an impending orgasm, or from the weight of this unfamiliar pure and utter adoration.
When he reaches my lower belly, tongue swirling my navel as he kisses the jewelry adorning it, his affection turns softer, lighter, barely touching. “Remember what I said that first night? When you were begging me to fuck you?”
My hands grip his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as I try to urge him down where it’s wet and aching and in desperate need of some fucking attention. “You said a lot of things.”
I feel his smirk against my skin, feel the laugh he huffs. “I told you I wasn't fucking this pussy until it's all mine. So, who’s pussy is this, Luna?”
Defiance, or maybe insanity, controls my mouth. “Mine.”
The puff of warm air Jackson expels makes me fuckingwhimper. “Wrong answer, sweetheart.”
If he thinks yanking me to the edge of the bed, dropping to his knees, and burying his head between my thighs is supposed to be a punishment, he's dead wrong.
There's no easing me into it. There's nothing slow or steady or hesitant about the way his tongue fucking impales me. Nothing gentle about the hand that clamps on my stomach to keep in my place. He devours me like a starved man until my legs are shaking, my hands are just about ripping his hair from the root, and my back is completely bowed off the bed. In mere minutes, or honestly, maybe seconds, I'm so close, I'm fucking there.
Until he fucking stops.
A needy noise escapes me as Jackson crawls back up my body, pressing glossy lips to mine. “Wanna try that again?” he murmurs with a smirk that I kiss desperately, conveying my begging with my tongue, lips, teeth, silently praying he takes pity on me.
