Page 38 of Inevitable Love
A trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses is my answer as I inch down his body, licking over each ridge and valley of his ridiculously muscled torso. The low groan my touch elicits makes me want to explore even more.
His sweats ride even lower on his hips now, revealing the dark curls I want to run my fingers through. I pull the worn elastic away and am rewarded as his thick erection springs free.
Glancing up at him, I find his eyes on me, head propped on his arm like he’s settling in for a show. I raise a brow at him, then give a long, slow lick up his shaft from base to tip. His abs bunch, and his breath hitches as his cock kicks under my tongue. It’s empowering, this response his body gives me.
Jackson is the most competent person I know. My goal is to make him lose that cool composure.
I repeat the action before taking him in hand and swirling my tongue around the tip. It’s been a long time since I’ve given a guy head. As I suck him into my mouth, he groans, hips rising like he wants to thrust into my mouth but is holding back.
What’s it going to take to make him unleash all the power in that well-built body of his?
On my next glide down, I let my tongue press a pattern over his hot flesh.
I don’t remember enjoying giving head this much, but Jackson’s gasp and the sheen of sweat glistening on his skinmeans I’m doing a decent job. As I pull up, I graze my teeth ever so slightly over the head of his cock, before taking him all the way to the back of my throat. And then I hum.
Jackson yanks me up by my armpits and scrambles out from under me, then I’m being lifted, my legs guided around his hips as he dances in place to rid himself of his sweats.
“What just happened?” I gasp.
“I’m not coming down your throat before I have a chance to taste you and then fuck you,” he declares, carrying me through his apartment to his bedroom. “And I’m not going to fuck you on the floor the first time. Or the first time I plan to remember.” He releases my legs, and we both gasp at the slide of our bodies as I find my footing.
“But you will the second?” I manage, because really, he’s got me at a loss for words.
He bends, yanking my leggings down, while I rip the sweatshirt off. Guess that blowjob did it for both of us, because I’m aching with need.
“Hmm,” he says as he climbs onto the bed on his knees, forcing me to sit, then lie back. “Maybe.”
He settles my ankle on his shoulder and skims his hand down the outside of my thigh as he grips his cock, stroking himself as he stares down at me. Jesus, why is it so hot to watch him touch himself?
I arch my back, ready for whatever he wants. He wants to use that talented tongue? Let’s do it. He wants to go with fingers? Game on. All I know is that I’m needy and writhing under him.
He rocks his hips, sliding that hard length against me, teasing me until I’m an aching mess. “Jesus, you’re so slick, and I’ve barely touched you.”
Guess my little game backfired on me. He makes quick work of rolling on a condom, his heated gaze ensuring I know that all of that hardness is just for me.
“Swear to god, Mags. Next time, I’ll take my time and make it good for you, but right now, I need?—”
His words are lost as I replace his hand and guide him to my entrance, rocking my hips up to take him inside me. “Shut up and fuck me, Jackson.”
He slides in with a groan, and I see stars. He pulls back and thrusts again, wringing a strangled cry from me.
“Are you?—”
“Don’t stop,” I gasp, because I’m pretty sure he knew I was two seconds from orgasm, and he’s doing this shit on purpose.
He sinks all the way in with a delicious roll of his hips. With a wolfish grin, he raises an eyebrow at me. “I’m just checking on you, Magnolia. You made an unholy…” He trails off with a groan when I clench around him.
I reach up to his stupidly handsome face and dig my nails into the nape of his neck. “Move.”
Finally, he does what he’s told and thrusts into me, setting a pace that requires him to hold on to my hip, pulling me into him, while simultaneously fucking me up the bed.
I brace my hands against the headboard, seeking purchase to withstand each punishing drive, and stare up at him. His eyes are closed, brow furrowed in concentration, jaw clenched. All while he’s driving into me like it’s his job.
There’s no doubt he’s talented in bed, and his body was made for sex.
But in this moment, I feel like just a willing body under him, when there should be so much more. There’s nothing romantic or intimate about the act, and it’s so far from what I expected sex with Jackson to be like. I expected connectionand deep resonance. But the only place we’re connected is where our bodies are joined.
It feels empty.
