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Jackson moved on to the next painting, a religious scene full of angels and flying babies.
“You can see the same thing here,” he said, pointing out imaginary lines on the canvas. “And look at the brushwork the artist has used — it’s so intricate, and consistent the whole way through.”
I wasn’t even looking at the picture anymore. I was watching Jackson’s face, which was full of joy. His eyes were bright, his smile wide, and he was staring at the painting the way I’d expect someone to look at their lover.
I wish he’d look at me like that.
The thought came out of nowhere, and it shocked me. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it as we wandered around the exhibition.
Why not make it happen?Cora’s advice came back to me. Jackson’s hand was inches away from mine, and all it would take was the smallest movement of my arm to touch his fingers. How would he react, I wondered? We were in a museum full of people, so obviously we couldn’t do anythingtoonaughty. But if he held my hand instead of pushing it away, I’d have my answer.
As he told me about a famous painting that was damaged in a fire, I reached over and curled my fingers around his.
He stopped talking, his concentration lost.
“Wh—what?”
He froze and looked at me like he was seeing me for the first time.
I squeezed his fingers to show him it wasn’t an accident, and his eyes traveled down my arm to our hands. His chest rose and fell faster and there was a horrible moment where I expected him to pull away.
But then he relaxed and wriggled his hand so it fit more comfortably into mine.
After that, we wandered in a daze. Jackson stopped explaining the paintings, and I stopped looking at them. We were alone in a bubble of hormones, and nothing could penetrate it. Not the art, not the people around us, not even Xavier’s promise.
We somehow made it back to the car without losing our composure, but once we were inside, neither of us could hide our attraction from the other. Jackson sat in the driver’s seat and looked at me, his breathing heavy, and I leaned over the center console and pressed my lips into his.
Our fingers entwined again as we kissed, gently at first. Jackson’s ponytail was loose and a strand of blond hair fell over his cheek, tickling my face. My lips never left his as I brushed it behind his ear, worried that I’d break the spell if I pulled away.
His tongue probed against mine, entering my mouth and sweeping over my lips as his other hand found my waist. I folded my knee under my body to get more height, so I could press my breasts against his chest and kiss him passionately with more tongue, raking my fingers through his hair until his ponytail fell out. His blond hair settled around his shoulders and even though I’d never been attracted to men with long hair before, it felt perfect. Being able to wrap my fist around it gave me more control, and when he slid his seat back as far as it could go, I climbed over the console to straddle him, feeling the heat of his erection through his pants…
“We’re fogging the windows,” Jackson said, and I looked up to realize he was right. The heat from our bodies had made the glass so cloudy I couldn’t see through it.
“At least nobody can see in,” I pointed out, as I pulled his t-shirt up. Jackson resisted for a moment, and I wondered if he was going to stop me — but then he wriggled to give the shirt room to come off. His jeans were more of a challenge — the angle of the seat made his fly difficult to unzip, but we managed. I straightened my legs, and he lifted his hips, and we both worked together to shimmy his pants down. His cock was fully erect, straining against his underpants, and it provided another logistical challenge. We worked together — my left hand and Jackson’s right — and eventually, we managed to unhook the elastic from his cock.
It bulged out from his manicured pubic hair, curved slightly to the left, with the smallest pearl of pre-cum on the tip.
I reached down, stroking his hot, silky skin. Jackson moaned and kissed me harder, grinding his lips against mine. He moved his hand down my lower back, cupping my ass, and the tips of his fingers found their way under my skirt.
When he pressed them through my underwear, I wished I could rip them off without moving. I shifted my legs to remove them, but Jackson shook his head and increased the pressure.
The fabric bulged inward, probing into my pussy.
There was no point trying to pull them off — Jackson’s grip was too strong — so instead, I moved forward to drag my clit over his cock.
His mouth fell open and his eyes lost focus — he wasn’t expecting me to do that. I used the limited space to dig my knees into the seat on either side of his hips and thrust my pelvis in tiny movements, brushing my clit back and forth over his shaft.
“Do you still want me to stop?” I asked, and he shook his head.
“Fuck me,” he begged, his voice hoarse, and I obeyed. I pulled my underwear to the side and sank over his erection. It hardened even further once it was inside me and I gasped with surprise at how wet I was, and how easily it slid in despite its girth. Jackson kissed me again, his tongue winding around mine as I slipped down, feeling my body open up to accommodate him.
The car restricted our movements, so fucking Jackson was the complete opposite of being with Adrian — instead of powerful thrusts, our lovemaking was tiny, subtle motions that meant he stayed inside me, rocking his cock so the tip massaged my sensitive inner walls. My clit rubbed against his lower abdomen, swelling as it filled me with pleasure.
I leaned back so he could go deeper, trusting his strong hands to hold me off the steering wheel, and found that when I circled my hips, his cock reached places that felt incredible.
More than incredible.
“Don’t stop,” I panted when he paused, and he tightened his jaw and kept moving. His eyes glowed with the same intensity I’d seen when he was looking at the paintings, and it turned me on even more. I was right on the verge… and Jackson knew it.
