Page 119 of Charlie

"Stand up," I insist.

He stands, his cock bobbing against my cheek.

"Look at me," I command and he dips his chin, meeting my gaze. "I want to give you pleasure just as much as you want to give me pleasure, Jack. Let me." I take him in my hand, reveling in the sheer size of him, pumping him once before swirling my tongue over his head and taking him in my mouth.

He groans, a broken, defeated sound, his fingers caressing my face before finding their place in my hair. I keep my hand on him, focusing on his head until his hands tremble against me. I move one hand to his balls, gently massaging them as I bury his cock in my throat, taking him in until I can't breathe.

"Fuck, Charlotte," he rasps, on the cusp of surrendering. His fingers tense, tightening over my head, guiding me. The only warning I get is his hips jerking back before he sinks into me, bottoming out. I hum my approval, my eyes watering. I take a deep breath as he pulls out, swallowing around him as he thrusts again.

"Get up," he says roughly, grabbing my hands and pulling me up despite my protests. He steps out of his joggers and pulls me to the bedroom, stopping in front of the full-length mirror. His lips crash against mine, his tongue insistent in its exploration. "Turn," he says raggedly, grasping my hips and turning me, then walking me toward the mirror. "Cross your legs and push your ass back toward me," he demands.

"What?" I ask, confused.

"For the love of God, Charlie. I want us to get there together, but I am not fucking you yet. Cross your damn legs."

I cross my legs, looking at him in the mirror for reassurance. He's sliding his hand up and down his cock, tattoos rippling in the morning sunlight streaming through the window. His hair is falling around his face, golden brown waves framing whisky eyes that will haunt my dreams for the rest of my life. My stomach clenches with desire as he steps closer, positioning his cock between my legs.

"God, I can already feel how wet you are," he groans, gripping my hips and angling them how he wants. "Don't fucking move," he growls, moving his left arm to my chest, his hand at my throat. He's looking at me in the mirror, and I see the exact moment his control snaps. He thrusts, sliding along my slit until I can see the head of his cock between my legs. Then he pulls back, the ridge catching on my clit.

"Oh fuck," I sob, my hips jerking at the overstimulation.

He growls, thrusting again, this time pulsing his head over my clit until I'm, writhing in his arms.

"Push your hips back a little more," he murmurs, guiding me, reducing the chance of accidental penetration.

Two more thrusts and I'm jerking against him uncontrollably, watching his cum hit the glass as my orgasm rips through me like a tsunami.

65

"That was not part of my fucking plan," Jack grumbles, squatting in front of the mirror while he wipes it down, holding my gaze in the reflection.

"Oh yeah?" I smirk. "You have a fucking plan?"

He stands and turns toward me, a lion stalking its prey. "I planned to seduce you for the entire day until we couldn’t stand it anymore."

"Well, to be fair, I don’t think we could have lasted much longer. At least we made it an hour," I say, grinning as he cups my cheek, a smile playing over his lips.

"Come on, let’s go get breakfast." He scoops me up and walks me to the counter, placing me back where we had started. He grabs the blanket that’s now puddled on the floor and tucks it around me.

The light from the fridge highlights his features as he rifles through the groceries he brought with him that morning. "We have options," he says, looking over at me, "Pancakes or French toast?"

"French toast," I say without hesitation.

"Good choice. Bacon or sausage?"

"Bacon, but it has to be crispy."

"Noted. How do you like your eggs? Scrambled with cheese, over easy, sunny side up?"

"I like them all the ways." I shrug. "You choose." Jack thinks for a second, then starts piling food in his arms and carries it to the counter.

"Don’t worry, I didn’t forget about the coffee," he says, giving me an adorable wink as he starts the coffee maker.

I could get used to this. A super hot (almost) naked guy making me breakfast in the morning? Yes, please. And someone that gives me two orgasms before said breakfast? Fuck yes.

"Is there something else you’d rather do other than touring the farm today?" Jack asks, his muscles flexing as he whisks the batter for the French toast.

"No. I want to see the farm. I want to see what you do all day, every day. I want to hear all the stories about your parents and grandparents. Stories about little Jack growing up here." His cheeks flush, but instead of turning to hide it from me, he sets down his bowl and wraps his arms around me.

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