Page 100 of Failure to Match

I saw stars. They twinkled and danced and nipped at my skin and I’d never flown so high or crashed so hard in my life. My entire body shook with the release. My lungs seized, my throat constricted, my stomach quivered, andTHISwas what an orgasm was supposed to feel like? How the fuck had I been doing them so wrong for so long?

And why the fuck wasn’t Jackson stopping?

He didn’t slow down, didn’t come up for air, didn’t even stutter. His arms remained locked around my thighs, keeping them wide open so he could continue to eat me out without interruption.

The oversensitivity kicked in within seconds.

“Oh, f—Jacks—shit—stopstopstop.”

He did no such thing.

And it… I loved it. This was officially my favorite game.

He fucked me with his tongue, groaning like he was enjoying it far too much to ever relent. At some point during all of this, he’d moved off the couch and was now kneeling in front of it, angling my hips to give his mouth better fucking access.

I tried to nudge him away, but it was like trying to move a brick wall. Even when he was kneeling like this his frame was so intimidating, so imposing, so unbelievably powerful and sexy.

His eyes were on my face, drinking in every bit of pleasure and agony his mouth was inflicting as I whimpered and mewled my complaints. It played to my deepest, darkest desires, knowing he wasn’t going to relent until I used my safeword.

Soon, the pain morphed back into pleasure, and my half-hearted attempts at pushing him off turned into my fingers fisting his hair again, pulling him closer as my hips ground against his mouth with shameless need. He was so good at this. I’d never been with a man who was so enthusiastic about oral.

“Oh god, Jackson, that feels… I’m gonna… again.”

The tingles were already spreading, nipping at my everything as I fought for air. It hit me just as hard as the first, forcing my limbs to curl and contort with excruciating ecstasy.

I could not believe how much I’d been missing out on. I needed better toys.

I was chanting his name, panting and shuddering through the incessant aftershocks his tongue was tormenting me with.

But again, he didn’t stop. He lapped at my pussy, unwilling to let a single drop of my orgasm go to waste.

I tried again to push him off, half because I physically could not take the torture, and half because feeling helpless against his unyielding hold turned me on even more. I was really into the whole power imbalance thing, apparently. Who the fuck could have guessed?—

He bit my clit.

Sucked on it.

Bit it again.

Flicked it with his tongue, groaned, and I was done.

I cried out, tears springing to my eyes as my muscles seized—a little painfully this time. It felt fucking amazing. Even the pain was incredible. It amplified the pleasure, melted my insides into quivering goo, made me choke and gasp and beg for mercy.

The pleading only encouraged him. It made him more ruthless and starved, not less. So, obviously, I kept doing it.

“Jackson, please. Pleasepleaseplease. Fuck. Please. I can’t.” I couldn’t.

Yet I did.

Another orgasm slashed through me, making me cry out in more pain, more pleasure, andoh my god, I really was going to die tonight. Willingly and from too many orgasms inflicted on me by Jackson Sinclair’s wicked, ravenous mouth.

I wasn’t even tempted to use my safeword. There was something so seductively pleasurable about this that it made all the agony worth it. Maybe because I wasn’t the only helpless one.

Jackson was eating me out like heneededit. He was about as out of control as I was, and that’s what made it so seductive.

I blinked down at him, willing my vision back into focus. He was watching me with such intense, feral concentration that it stole my breath. My teeth sunk into my bottom lip, tugging at it as my hips began grinding again.

I’d be picturing this exact scene every time I reached for my vibrator for the next… for the rest of my life. Jackson Sinclair on his knees, biceps bulging as he kept my thighs splayed wide open for his licking and sucking pleasure.

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