5. Chapter 3
Chapter 3
Killian
Jackson's mouth crashes against mine, all teeth and tongue and desperation. His hands grip my hips hard enough to bruise as he presses me into the mattress. The weight of him, the heat of his skin against mine, sends electricity racing through my veins.
He growls against my throat, nipping at my pulse point. I moan as he works his way down my chest, marking every inch of skin he can reach. Then he drags his tongue up my inner thigh, and when his teeth sink into my flesh, I arch off the bed. “Fuck.”
“Sensitive much?” He smirks up at me.
“Shut up.”
“You love it when I mark you.” His breath ghosts over my cock, hot and teasing, then he takes me into his mouth, lips stretching around my length.
I groan, my head falling back against the pillow as his tongue swirls around my crown, flicking over my slit. He hollows his cheeks, sucking hard, and my fingers tangle in his hair. “Fuck, that's good. But I . . . I want . . .”
He hums; the vibrations make my toes curl. Then he pulls off, licking his lips. “What do you want, baby?”
“The belt.”
His eyes darken. He gets up and grabs the discarded belt from where he dropped it earlier. “Turn over.”
I roll onto my stomach, pushing onto my hands and knees. My cock twitches, my breath sawing in and out.
“Sure you want this?”
I nod. “Yes, need it.”
The first strike lands across my ass, the sting blooming into heat that spreads across my skin. I grunt, my fingers digging into the sheets. The second still hurts, but then the pain blends with pleasure.
Jackson sets a brutal pace, each strike harder than the last, each one carefully placed, never hitting the same spot twice. I arch into it, chasing the burn.
“That's it, baby. Take it.”
“Fuck, Jackson. More.”
He obliges, bringing the belt across the backs of my thighs. Precum leaks steadily from my slit, dripping onto the sheets. When he finally stops, my skin is on fire, marked and claimed.
Jackson's hands smooth over my heated flesh, soothing the sting. “So fucking beautiful. All mine.”
I start to sit up, but he shoves me back down, spreading my cheeks wide, his breath hot against my hole. “Gonna eat this ass until you're begging for my dick.”
Fuck.
Spreading my legs wider, I push back, desperate for him. “Eat me. Fucking, eat me!”
Jackson dives in, his tongue licking a stripe up my crease, and my eyes roll back as I let out a loud moan. Then he moves to my hole, laving and sucking and probing until his tongue pushes inside me, fucking me with wet, filthy strokes.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I grind against his face, trying to get closer. Trying to get more.
“You taste so fucking good, baby.”
After repositioning my chest against the mattress, I reach back and grab both of my cheeks. “Please.”
I’m not even sure what I'm asking for. More of his mouth? His cock? Both?
He chuckles, then continues to fuck me with his tongue, sucking my hole at the same time until I’m riding his face once again. If there’s one thing I love more than the belt, it’s this.
“Jackson, oh fuck.” I’m panting, too worked up, especially after not physically being with him for weeks. “Now. Fuck me now.”
“So impatient.”
I flip over onto my back as he reaches over me to grab the lube from his nightstand. He coats his fingers instead of his cock, then pushes one inside me.
I clench around him, my body desperate for more. “Jackson, I swear to God—”
He cuts me off with a brutal kiss, his tongue fucking my mouth as he adds another finger, scissoring and stretching me. Then he lines himself up, the blunt head of his cock nudging against my hole. “Gonna give you what you need, don't worry.”
The intrusion burns as he pushes in, and the stretch almost too much. But I bear down, taking him in.
“Fuck, you're tight.” He groans, resting his forehead against mine. “Feel so fucking good.”
“Move.” My nails dig into his back. “Fuck me. Hard.”
He laughs, the sound breathless and strained. “Always so bossy.”
But he starts thrusting, pulling out, and slamming back in. Each time, it sends pleasure ricocheting through me.
“Harder. Harder.”
He growls, his hips snapping against me as he pushes my knees toward my chest. “Touch your dick. I want to see you come all over yourself.”
I reach down, wrapping my hand around my length. The first stroke sends a shock of pleasure through me, my body clenching around Jackson.
He groans, his hips stuttering. “That's it, baby. Jerk it for me. Show me how much you like being fucked.”
My hand moves faster, my grip tightening, tugging at the piercing, adding an extra layer of sensation. I'm close, so close, my body coiling tighter and tighter with each stroke, each thrust.
“Come, baby. Come for me. Show me how much you love my dick inside you. How much you want me to fill this tight little hole until you're dripping.”
My fist flies over my hard length, my toes curling until my orgasm hits. I cry out as I come all over my stomach, my chest, even hitting my chin. Jackson fucks me through it, his hips moving in short, sharp thrusts, drawing out my pleasure until I'm a shaking, sweating mess.
“Fuck, Kill. Gonna fill you up. Gonna mark you inside.”
I feel every twitch, every pulse, as he comes. When he’s done, he collapses on top of me, his body slick with sweat, his breath ragged in my ear. “Missed you so much, baby.”
We lay there for a few minutes, catching our breath, and then get up to clean ourselves in his ensuite bathroom. I grab my boxers from the floor and put them on before climbing back into his obscenely large bed.
Jackson slides in next to me, settles against the headboard, and clicks on the TV. “Time for the greatest Christmas movie ever made.”
I prop myself up on an elbow. “If you say Die Hard, I swear to God, I'll suffocate you with this ridiculously expensive pillow.”
His answering grin is pure evil as he pulls up the movie menu. “Come on, Kill. Nothing says Christmas spirit like John McClane crawling through air ducts and taking out terrorists.”
“You're such a basic bitch.” I lunge for the remote, but he holds it out of reach. “Give it.”
“Make me.”
I throw myself across him, trying to wrestle the remote away. He laughs as he holds it above his head, using his other hand to tickle my side.
“Fucking fight dirty, why don't you?” I squirm away from his fingers, accidentally elbowing him in the stomach.
“Says the man trying to steal my remote.” He wheezes but doesn't let go. “In my own room.”
I bare my teeth. “Last warning.”
“Or what?”
I lean down and bite his nipple hard. He yelps, his grip loosening just enough for me to snatch the remote. “Ha! Victory is mine, bitch!”
“You fucking cheated!” He rubs his chest.
“All's fair in love and Christmas movies.” I quickly navigate to Home Alone, triumphant. “Now, this is a proper holiday film.”
Jackson pulls me back against his chest, his arms snaking around my waist. “A kid terrorizing burglars is your idea of Christmas spirit?”
“Says the man-child who thinks explosions equal Christmas spirit.”
His teeth graze my earlobe. “Fine, we'll watch your kiddie movie. But I'm going to make you pay for that bite later.”
I snort, rolling my eyes. But his tone lights up every nerve in my body, causing my already spent dick to start to swell again. “That a threat?”
“More like a Christmas gift.” His hands slide lower. “Now shut up and watch your movie before I decide to unwrap you again.”
Annoying bastard. Like I’m going to be able to enjoy the movie now that he made me hard again.
But Jackson’s fingers start tracing idle patterns on my hip, and eventually, I settle in. “You know, if those burglars were smarter, they'd just wait him out. Kid's got to sleep eventually.”
I twist to look at him. “Are you actually strategizing about how to defeat a fictional eight-year-old?”
“Just saying, their tactical approach is garbage.”
“You’re telling me John McClane was any better?”
The jerk tries to bite my skull. “He’s a fucking hero.”
I roll my eyes. “You just like him because he's as much of an asshole as you are.”
“Damn straight. Though I gotta say, watching this kid torture these idiots is pretty satisfying.” He tugs me closer, nuzzling into my neck.
Eight months ago, I would've rather eaten glass than cuddle with Jackson Reed. Now his arms feel like home, his chest's steady rise and fall against my back more soothing than any lullaby.