Page 107 of Pick Me

As I moved, I noticed his screen shift slightly, confirming that he could see all of me now. Jackson tilted his head, studying me like he was preparing to devour me.

“I know you like being in control, but tonight, I want you to be a good girl and let me do all the talking.”

My throat went dry, my head sinking into the pillows.I’ll do all the talking.When did Jackson become so forthright? So possessive? Why did I love it so much?

“Okay,” I whispered.

His lips curled into something wicked. “That’s the last thing I want to hear from you that isn’t a moan. Or my name. As you come.”

I sucked in a sharp breath.

“You know…” His voice dropped. “I can still smell you on my fingers.”

I gulped, offering a gentle “Mm-hm” in response.

“Fuck, Pyro.” He exhaled slowly, like he was holding onto his last shred of self-control. “I want to bathe in you.”

My thighs squeezed together, but it did nothing. If anything, the pressure only heightened the unbearable heat pulsing between my legs.

“I want to eat you out so thoroughly that I’ll smell you on my face for days.”

I whimpered again, shifting restlessly on the bed.

“The second I stop smelling you,” he continued, his voice nothing but raw hunger, “I’ll come back for more.”

My thighs were shaking, and I clamped them shut. I hadn’t even touched myself yet, but I felt like a short fuse, ready to explode any minute. Taking a deep breath, I tried to calm myself.

“Are you getting hot, Pyro?” Jackson’s voice was low and taunting. “I can see you squirming.” Apparently, I wasn’t moving subtly enough. I nodded, whimpering slightly. “Bet you’re thinking about earlier when my tongue was inside you. Or maybe it was when I sucked on your clit. I know that drives you crazy, doesn’t it.”

It did. I was usually the one in control, telling Jackson exactly what I wanted, guiding him, directing him. This time, I had none. This time, he owned everything.

I leaned back on my hands, my body burning with need, and locked eyes with the camera, forcing myself to focus. Unlike how he could see all of me, I could only see his face-shrouded in darkness, barely illuminated by the faint glow of his room.

He didn’t want me to see him.

Not yet, at least.

“Take your shirt off,” he ordered, his voice rough, commanding. “Show me your tits.”

Like I’d ever ignore a request like that.

I tossed my nightshirt and bottoms to the floor, and my skin instantly prickled with the cool air. I pushed my shoulders back, ensuring Jackson got the best possible view of my bare chest on the screen.

His breath hitched.

“Play with your nipples, Thea,” he rasped. “Make yourself moan from your own touch.”

A slow shiver rolled through me as I skimmed my fingers across my breasts and pretended it was Jackson touching me. “You feel so good, baby,” he said in this deep tone that sent pleasure straight to my core. “Flick your nipples. Pretend it’s my tongue.”

I obeyed without hesitation, rolling my fingers over the hardened peaks, imagining the slide of his mouth, the rough scrape of his teeth.

“Now pinch.”

I gasped, my back arching, pleasure sparking through my veins.

I squeezed my thighs in frustration and instinctively dropped my hand, seeking relief.

“Not yet,” Jackson warned, his voice sharp, filled with promise. “If you disobey me, I’ll be in there in a heartbeat, and you won’t get to come.”

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