Page 111 of Burned & Bound

“Fuck,” Jackson breathed out. His body pushed back against mine. I ran the pad of my thumb over his slit, gathering the pre-cum there andbringing it to my mouth. The salty taste of him was grounding, giving me something to cling to—to keep me here with him instead of floating away. He groaned, “Jesus fuck, baby.”

”On your stomach, cowboy,” I ordered gruffly and walked him toward the edge of the bed. He dropped, and I went with him.

I crawled over his body, kissing my way up his spine. The little shudder that ran through him wasn’t lost on me. I took my time pressing kisses up and down his spine a second time, liking the little things I could do to him. I still didn’t know what the fuck I was doing. Every time we ended up in this position I felt equally lost.

But making Jackson feel good?That I was determined to figure out. It was the only thing I didn’t want to fuck up.

I smiled slightly against the curve of his shoulder as he floundered to grab the lube, missing twice when I nipped at a spot guaranteed to drive him wild.

“I know what the fuck you’re doing,” he grumbled, and my smirk widened.

“I don’t have a fucking clue what you’re talking about.” I sank my teeth in his favorite spot at the base of his neck, and he almost dropped the bottle to the floor. As I grabbed it from him, I teased, “Careful, cowboy.”

He made a sound that dissolved into a groan as I swiped lube over his asshole and slid one finger inside him. I didn’t have the patience to prep him the way I probably should’ve, but from the way he pushed back against me, he didn’t either.

Instead, I coated my dick and slowly pressed the crown past that tight ring of muscles.

“Fuck,” Jackson let out with a loud moan, his forehead falling to the bed. My fingers dug into his hip as I took my time working my cock in and out of him, venturing a little deeper each time.

The intensity and pressure knocked the air out of my lungs. I paused, trying to gain my bearings. He was so goddamn tight and hot around my cock. Jackson’s hand found mine, his fingers weaving through mine as if for reassurance.Or maybe he just needed it as much as I did.

Kissing the side of his neck, I thrust into him until I was buried to the hilt inside him. His moan echoed mine, and I focused on making him feelgood. My pace picked up, and his body moved under mine, matching every drive of my hips.

Sweat cooled my skin, my breaths grew ragged, and my heart pounded violently in my ears. Jackson grew louder and more demanding underneath me. From the sounds he made, he was getting there without me ever touching him.

But I struggled to keep up with him. Every thrust did nothing for me—no matter how hard I focused. I couldn’t get my head in the moment. Couldn’t get my body to cooperate. It felt good but it didn’t at the same time. More than anything, I felt trapped. But I kept going—kept trying—until my dick quit on me, softening slowly.

“Fuck…” I let out pathetically. My head fell between his shoulder blades as I pulled out. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be—”

“I am,” I reiterated a little too quickly.

“West.” Jackson shifted underneath me, rolling so he could see me. He pulled my mouth to his, cradling my face with more gentleness than I deserved.

“But you didn’t—”

“I don’t care,” he interrupted once more and kissed the tip of my nose.How was he not the most sexually frustrated man on the planet with a broken guy like me as his partner?I was so fucking broken and useless. I kept telling myself I could do these things, but I couldn’t. And it fucking killed me. “I care about you, West. Your comfort. Your safety. Your happiness.”

“Jackson…”

“You’re my priority, baby, above anything else.”

My heart cracked wide open with those words—such simple fucking words that probably didn’t mean much to anyone else. At that moment I knew: I still loved him. I had never stopped loving him. I’d just buried the feelings somewhere deep inside me where I never had to face them again.

But I couldn’t bring myself to say the words out loud.What the fuck was wrong with me?

I settled on his chest, pressing my ear over his heart. The sound of his heartbeat was comforting in ways I didn’t know how to explain. I was painfully aware of how hard his dick was as it pressed against my torso and did my best not to focus on it—a fucking miserable task.

Jackson’s palms rubbed along my upper arms and back. The sensation was painful along my skin, prickling along my every nerve.

“Don’t rub,” I whispered. His hands stilled, and the fucking guilt for even bringing it up was immediate. Under my breath, I added, “Sorry.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Sometimes,” I admitted. “Sometimes it just makes my skin… uncomfortable.”

It felt weird talking about it. I never talked about it. I didn’t understand it and didn’t expect other people to either. All I knew was that I was a fucking mess. That was no one’s problem but mine.

---