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“Whoa, Jackson, this is beautiful. Did you draw this?”
“I drew this pretty early on—it’smyrendition of Splinter. And when I finally found the courage, I went out and got it done.” He’d been 16 when he first started sketching the tattoo. It was a basic rat at first, then he graduated into the details and put thegion Master Splinter. He did lots of research and found the perfect way to draw it. By the time he turned 18, he had the tattoo done and perfected. His father had been so impressed that he’d gone with Jackson to get the tattoo.
“It’s amazing. I always wanted to get a Turtles tattoo done, like one of their colored masks or something.”
Jackson reached for Oleander’s arm, rubbing his thumb over the watercolor and line drawing of a unicorn on her wrist. “I think the unicorn is pretty symbolic of who you are too.”
“Damn straight it is. I’m fucking magical.”
“Yes, you most certainly are,” Jackson muttered and as Oleander reached for him, he did the same, tugging her into his arms.
Oleander’s handswere everywhere and Jackson carefully moved them through the apartment, trying not to let her bump into any of the furniture as he guided them down the hallway to his room. Pushing the door open, he backed them up against the bed before bending down to scoop her up in his arms—it was only a few seconds before he tossed her onto the mattress.
“Impressive,” Oleander whispered, shifting onto her knees as Jackson stayed on his feet.
“Not tripping over anything or carrying you to bed?”
“Both.” She brushed her fingers over his chest and down the line of buttons as they faced each other. “I don’t think I’ve ever been carried to bed before.”
“I’ll try to do that more often.”
“As long as you don’t break those arms doing so.”
“Hey,” he scolded her softly and Oleander started undoing the buttons on his shirt.
“What? You’re a skinny guy.”
“Hey!” Jackson protested, pushing his shirt off. “I am not skinny.”
“Oh.” Oleander’s mouth formed a perfect O, her eyes never leaving his chest. Jackson blushed, head to toe. He watched her reach out, brushing her fingers along his chest and down to his stomach where he had ahintof abs. Crunches were less fun than eating donuts and drinking shakes all day. Jackson wasn’t weird looking or scrawny anymore, but he was definitely not fit and shapely like his friends.
The way Oleander was looking at him? It was enough.
He was awkwardly trying to curl in on himself—he was like a turtle in some situations. But Oleander wasn’t done staring. She let her fingers trail down the smattering of hair on his stomach and Jackson shivered, watching her face as she gently tugged at his belt.
“Wait, wait,” Jackson breathed, his hands circling Oleander’s wrists to pull her hands away.
“What, why?”
“I feel like I’m going to blow my load even before I’m inside you.”
“I’m really good at helping get it back up,” Oleander said with a naughty smirk.
“Oleander.”
“Fuck, that should not be as hot as it is.” She growled this time and Jackson stared at her in shock.
The first time he’d heard her growl, he’d been so caught off guard. The second time he’d been turned on. This time, he was already so unbearably hard he was almost bursting at the seams and he wanted to be better prepared before she made him come undone.
Jackson released her wrists and took a step back, putting space between them. Oleander didn’t like that and moved to the edge of the bed, trying to close the gap. Jackson realized that it was pointless trying to run away from her. Oleander smiled and Jackson gave up the fight, taking a small step back towards the bed.
“It’s been a while since I’ve…you know…”
“No, Jackson, I don’t know. What?”
“Since I’ve been with someone. Since I’ve had sex. Since I’ve let someone else touch me.”
Oleander nodded. “What do you think about when you touch yourself?”
“I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Why not? I mean, it’s not like I’mnotgoing to touch you, I just want to know.”
Jackson closed the gap between them, his hands falling to her waist as she leaned into him, her chest pressed against his. He’d never told a woman that he got off to thoughts about her before. Jackson had used various muses to get off, but to actually talk about it and admit it to someone? That was a whole new feeling.
Jackson curled his fingers against her sides, bunching up her dress, watching it rise up over her thighs, his cock now straining against the front of his pants. By the way Oleander’s eyes glazed over, he could tell that she felt it too. He was bolstered by that look in her eyes, the desire to be with him—it drove him to hold on and not let go.
Licking his lips, Jackson leaned in slightly and brushed his mouth over Oleander’s as he whispered. “I think about you, Oleander. It’s been you for weeks.”
