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"God."
The word is stolen away by his vicious kiss. His hands leave my neck and hair, going to the bottom of my thigh length dress. I have never been so thankful to have worn a dress as I am when he starts hiking it up. His mouth leaves mine, kissing along my neck as his fingers reach between my thighs.
"Always so fucking wet for me," he says against my skin. "You know why that is?"
"Because I am always, and I do mean always, ready for you to fuck me."
He darkly chuckles, and I close my eyes at the sound of it. Because I thought I'd never hear that sound again. A dark promise in my ear, making my pussy tighten. I thought I'd lost all of this, his chuckle, his touch, his kiss. All of it.
"Because you belong with me. To me, Charlotte. This mouth." He kisses me again. "These breasts." He roughly pulls my neckline down to kiss the top of one. "This pussy." He pushes my panties aside and strokes his finger through my wetness, making me moan. Then his hand over the top of my breast moves slightly down, covering a thunderous beat. "This heart. Your heart."
"Always," I promise. I vow.
"So don't you ever…" Hand back to my throat, he yanks me so close that our noses touch. "Ever leave me again, Charlotte."
I shake my head. "Never."
"Never," he growls.
He rips my panties off, making me hiss at the pain.
"Fucking never, Charlotte."
"I'm sorry," I say but it ends up coming out as a cry when he rubs his finger against my clit. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." I repeat as heslides his fingers through my lips to my opening. "I love you," I sigh as he thrusts them into me.
He walks me backwards as he fingers me. The lights as we enter the front part of the kitchen are blinding after being in only candlelight for so long, but my eyes are closing after a few seconds anyway. I don't think I could keep them open if I tried as he hooks his fingers inside me. My lower back collides with the counter, and I gasp, my eyes flying open. And my vision is Jackson, licking his lips as he brings my dress up around my hips.
"Lay on that counter and spread your thighs for me right now," he demands.
I don't think about it for a second. Not as my mind considers there may be cameras watching us. Not as my ass hits the cold marble. Not as he steps forward and spreads my thighs to the point that my muscles scream for relief.
He drops to his knees, and I bend my neck to watch him bring his mouth closer to my pussy.
"I have gone far too fucking long without your taste on my tongue, Charlotte," he says low and deep. "I almost want to bite you just to punish you for making me go without it."
"Do it," I breathe.
He grins. "My needy whore."
Then my head is falling back, eyes closing at the first lick. It's hard, his tongue flat against my clit, licking until the tip is toying with me, circling, teasing. His shoulders push my thighs even farther apart, painfully so, but there is no way I would even attempt to close them with his tongue sliding to my opening, his thumb going to my clit.
"Oh God, Jackson," I gasp when my body bucks off the counter from his tongue sliding into me.
My hands go over my head, gripping the edge of the counter as I arch, riding his face, my mouth hanging open with moans and pleas for more tumbling over my lips. His tongue slides through my lips, up and down, back up again, from opening to clit, clit to opening, groaning and licking at me like I am the best meal he's ever had. My cries echo through the restaurant as I hurtle toward an orgasm. I whimper when his mouth stops moving. Although my head feels like it weighs a hundred pounds, I lift it to look down at him, with I'm sure, a wild desperation in my eyes.
"Did you miss my mouth on you?" he asks.
"God, please don't stop now, Jackson," I beg.
He just smirks. "Answer me if you want my mouth back on you. Did you miss it?"
"I missed it so fucking much. Now please."
I see his tongue come out, watch the lick he gives me, then moan with the pleasure it sends coursing through me. It takes me right back to where I was, on the brink of coming. He goes back to my opening, circling it, teasing it, but not giving me what I want, even though I arch for it. I question just how much I love that chuckle when he gives it to me now and takes his mouth away from me again. At least he gives me his fingers, three of them slamming into me so hard my body moves with their force.
"Did you play with yourself, imagining your fingers were mine?"
"Yes," I say with a shaky voice.
