Page 81 of Beneath the Hood

“Blake, you don’t have to—”

Smirking, I glance up at him. His eyes are fierce, a dark haze swirling through the kaleidoscope of greens, lust pouring from his gaze.

“Of course, I don’thaveto. I want to, Jackson.” His hips lift so I can slide his jeans down his thighs.

His erection tents his boxers and my stomach buzzes with nerves, suddenly worried I won’t be good enough to please him.

Swallowing around the insecurity, my fingers wrap around the base of him, using the fabric of his boxers to create friction against his skin. His cock jerks in my hand, making a wave of desire roll through me.

His head falls back against the couch. “Fuck.”

There’s a wet spot forming on his boxers and I lean in, pressing my lips to the cloth, a hint of his taste teasing my mouth. My fingers slip into the waistband, pulling them down, his dick bobbing straight into the air. My heart jumps into my throat before dropping back down, settling into a faster rhythm.

I’ve always been fascinated by the male anatomy, and although I don’t have much experience with men, the few I’ve seen don’t even come close to comparing to Jackson’s. My stomach tightens as I take him in.

I’ve never felt sowantonbefore. Never thought the dirty fantasies that play through my mind alone at night would bleed over into real life, but as I sit and stare at Jackson’s rigid cock, my clit swells and desire stirs low in my gut.

There’s a thick vein running along the underside of his shaft. I close my eyes, imagining the way it will pulse with his cum. Maybe in my mouth. Maybe inside me.My pussy throbs at the vision, my stomach flipping.

My hand reaches out, gripping him firmly at the base and he sucks in a breath. I glide my palm from root to tip, watching as precum oozes from the head. Leaning in, my tongue slips out and sweeps over the liquid, hunger sparking in my stomach as I taste him for the first time.

Jackson groans.

My body buzzes and my hand repeats the motion, trying to squeeze out another drop. It works, and this time when I lean in to taste him my mouth closes around his tip, sucking.

He moans again, his hands flying down to grip the back of my head.

I glance up at him from under my lashes, suddenly nervous that I won’t be good enough. My chest tightens when I think about all the other women who I’m sure have been in my position, my brain starting to spiral, but I pull myself back from the brink. I don’t want to overthink this. I just want to be what he needs. “Tell me what to do, Jackson.”

His eyes flare, his hips rising slightly, the head of his dick brushing against my lips. “Put your mouth on it.” His voice is low. Deep.

My thighs press together to try and ease the ache throbbing between them.

I follow my instincts, pressing a kiss to the tip of his cock, before swirling my tongue around him, lowering my head as my mouth slides down his length inch by inch.

His hands gather my hair into a ponytail, tugging slightly, sending a shiver down my spine.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I marvel at what it feels like to have him between my lips. At the way his salty essence lingers on my taste buds, and how with every pass of my tongue his cock grows harder.

I continue working my way down slowly until the head of him meets resistance, my gut cramping at the thought that I can’t take him all the way in.

His finger traces along my jaw. “Breathe through your nose, princess.”

Relief from his instruction untangles the nerves, total and complete trust taking its place. My eyes water when his dick pushes into the back of my throat.

“Yeah,fuck. Like that,” he rasps. “Relax your tongue.”

I do.

His hips start to thrust in small movements and even though the physical act is uncomfortable—my jaw aching from being stretched, and my breath stuttered from his girth—the rush it shoots through me is so erotic that arousal drips into my panties, my womb spasming.

I’ve never been this turned on.

Saliva dribbles from the corners of my mouth, glossing down his cock every time he retreats. His free hand reaches out, grabbing mine and wrapping it around the base of him, the drool making my hand slick as his length pumps through it.

“You take over now.” He tugs on my hair. “Like this.” Urging me back down, his palm stays on top of mine as he shows me how to twist and stroke in tandem with the bobbing of my head, creating a rhythm. After a few minutes, I grow comfortable—more confident—and his hand falls away, his grip growing lax from where it holds my hair back.

I can feel the moment he gets close, his cock growing in my mouth, his legs starting to tremble around my sides. Suddenly, he tugs sharply on my strands, the sting making me gasp, allowing him to slip free from my mouth.

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