Page 101 of Failure to Match

I moaned his name, reveling in its subtle impact on his physical demeanor. He worked me faster, watched me more closely, forced my thighs wider. I didn’t have the words to describe how desired and attractive it made me feel. I was drunk with it.

Lost in the overwhelming intensity of the moment, I reached down and used my fingers to peel myself open for him like before. I did it without thinking, wanting to please him and let him know how good this was. That he could take as much of me as he wanted.

He fuckinglostit.

His hips bucked into the couch, shoving it back as a vicious growl ripped out of his lungs. Something clattered, something else smashed, he didn’t seem to notice. His tongue thrust into me with feral need, his grip becoming rough enough to leave a few delicious bruises on my skin. Well-fucking-worth it.

“Jackson…”

He shuddered with a deep, soul-crushing groan, and shut his eyes for a beat, his movements becoming increasingly wild and desperate. It was so hot. I was close again… so, so close. Just… a little…

I came against his searing tongue with a broken cry, and he bucked again, his muscles tensing as he licked me into permanent incoherence. And then he was shuddering against me, choking out groans while he shook and shook and shook.

It went on forever.

Until, finally, it stopped, and he peeled his mouth away.

I was liquid. A whimpering, blubbering puddle of numb liquid.

“Fuck…” he breathed, his grip finally loosening as his head collapsed onto my stomach. He was heaving. “Jesus…”

We stayed like that for minutes. Or maybe it was hours. I couldn’t tell the difference anymore; didn’t really care to.

“Jamie.”

“Mmmm.”

“You all right?”

No. He’d broken me. How was I ever supposed to have sex with another man, knowing it would never—could never—live up to what I’d just experienced?

An unpleasant shiver snaked through my limbs when Jackson lifted himself, selfishly taking all the heat with him. I was too sore and sensitive to close my thighs, so they stayedwide open as he cupped one side of my face and tilted it in his direction. “You okay?”

I blinked sleepily up at him, the sight slow to register. My slick arousal was all over his mouth and chin, his hair was ruffled, eyes hooded and glassy.

So sexy…

“Jamie. I need to know if you’re good.”

I was getting there, damn. Gathering every last molecule of energy I had left in this lifetime, I forced myself to swallow. “So good.”

A slow, devastating grin spread over his evil, talented mouth. “You liked that, did you?”

“Mmnmhm,” I confirmed. There was a chance I’d never be able to move or speak ever again.

“C’mere, sweet girl. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Yeah, I wasn’t gonna be able to move for—oh. Never mind. He was doing all the work for me, gathering me in his arms, lifting me from the couch. How nice. I’d thank him in my next life, just as soon as I regained the ability to speak.

I was curled up against him like a drowsy kitten as he carried me upstairs, keeping me pressed to his chest while he whispered sweet little praises in my ear.

I was such a good girl.

A sweet girl.

I’d done so well.

He was so pleased with me.

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