Page 77 of Burned & Bound

My whole body tensed when he tugged open my jeans.

“Breathe, baby,” he whispered into my neck. “Just tell me to stop if you need me to. Your stables, your rules, West.”

That kind of power was foreign.

But I trusted him. I trusted him to listen.

I didn’t have the words to say that, but I did and just nodded to let him know how aware I was.

His fingers hooked into my jeans and boxer briefs, pushing them down until my cock was free between us. A shiver ran through my body, and I forced myself to stay grounded in the moment.The musk of his cologne, the softness of his mouth on my skin, the warmth of his body against mine.

Those were good things.

Jackson was a good thing.

He ran his thumb down the length of my shaft, rolling over each small barbell. I moaned.Why did something so simple feel so fucking good?

“It’s wild how fucking sexy these things are on you,” Jackson whispered in my ear. He repeated the action, drawing out a louder moan from me. “Does that feel good, baby?”

“Yeah,” I breathed out. He took the admission as motivation to wrap his hand around my dick. His fist skated up and down my hard length, slow and steady. The slight pressure was fucking euphoric.

Was this what this was supposed to be like?

I shoved that fucking thought from my head. I didn’t want to think about it. I didn’t want to spiral on the bad things.

“Jesus fuck.” I gripped his forearm as he reached under and gave my balls a light squeeze. My heart pounded erratically in my chest as liquid heat built in my core.

“You’re doing so damn good, baby,” Jackson praised. My breathing kicked up as he combined the two—his hand working up and down my cock before squeezing my balls enough to make me gasp. As he kept going, he said, “I’m dying to taste you, baby, so I’m going to get down on my knees and I’m going to suck your dick until you come in my mouth, do you understand?”

He what?

My brain struggled to understand the words he’d just said. Enough so that he leaned back, those blue eyes leveling on mine.

“Are youokay?” he asked.

“I think so,” I admitted a little pathetically. This was the shit that made me feel less than I was. How many people needed to be talked through this kind of thing? Needed to practically have their hand held just to get off?

“You’re doing real damn good, West.” Jackson’s lips brushed over mine. “Can I keep going?”

My eyes practically rolled back as he squeezed my balls one more time.Did I want to do more? Could I handle it?

I shut down those thoughts. My body was fine. His hands on me felt good. From the way my cock throbbed in his hand with pre-cum leaking from my slit, I couldn’t deny that I liked what he was doing. Hell, the urge to rock into his hand—to feel more—was overwhelming.

“Yeah,” I whispered.

“Keep going?” he reiterated one more time.

“Keep going, cowboy,” I told him, barely recognizing the strain in my own voice. His hand never left my cock as he lowered himself onto his knees and my gaze followed him.

“Hand in my hair, West,” he ordered. I brushed my fingers through his hair as he instructed. “Faster, slower, deeper… you’re in control, got it. Whatever the fuck makes you feel good.”

Him.

He made me feel good.

Jackson was meticulous and focused as his tongue traced each one of my barbells. That slight pressure and the warmth of his tongue had me moaning. His tongue ran over my slit, lapping up my pre-cum with a small sound of appreciation.

There was something undeniably sexy about the way he did that.

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