39. Blakely
THIRTY-NINE
Blakely
The sting is real, and as he pushes in farther, it feels more like he’s splitting me in half rather than making love.
But I breathe deep, allowing the pain to keep me grounded.
My arms slip down from around his neck, my nails digging deep into the muscles of his shoulders as he continues to press in.
He pauses again, allowing me to adjust.
“Just do it,” I force out, my hands trying to drag him into me.
His muscles tense under my hands and he surges forward, blinding pain racing through my core and up my middle as his hips rest flush against mine.
“ Goddamn , you’re tight,” he moans, looking down at me. “Are you still with me?”
I open my mouth to speak, but words don’t come out because the truth is, this fucking hurts , so I settle for a nod.
My legs wrap around his hips, holding him close, worried he’ll second-guess what we’re doing. That he’ll stop because it’s clear I’m in pain.
After a few minutes, the agony eases into a tolerable throb. He must sense the shift in my body because he slowly starts to move, dragging his hips back, his cock rubbing against my walls as he thrusts in a slow and steady rhythm.
There’s a slight sting that remains, and I can tell that he’s holding himself back.
I don’t want him to.
Lifting my head, my lips ghost across his neck. “Jackson… fuck me.”
“I don’t want to hurt you, baby,” he grits out.
“You won’t.” My hand reaches between us, my fingers brushing against his balls. “I want to feel you come.”
His entire body jerks and he plunges in deep, making me lose my breath. Pleasure curls around the edge of the discomfort, and I give in to the sensation, losing myself in the moment, my chest swelling with emotion as I give myself to the first person who’s ever seen me for me.
Heat simmers low in my abdomen. My hand moves down to rub my still-sensitive clit, my fingers skimming the sides of his dick as it moves inside of me.
I want to know what it feels like to orgasm around his cock. I wonder if it’s even possible through the ache of being stretched until it burns.
His eyes lock on to where I’m touching myself and he rears back, gripping under my calves and sliding down to my ankles, raising my legs until they’re spread wide in the air.
I whimper, the new position making him hit impossibly deeper.
“Where do you want my cum, princess? Fuck , you feel good.” His words come out sharp, in time with his thrusts, and his dirty mouth is gasoline to the fire that’s growing inside of me.
I increase the pressure of my fingers. “Don’t stop talking,” I breathe.
His chest glistens from the sheen of sweat that coats his body, his abs tensing with every slap of our groins. My body jostles on the bed, my fingers rubbing furiously back and forth.
“Are you gonna make that pussy milk it out of me, Blake? Do you think you can?”
His words are a challenge and I take it to heart, pressing my hand down hard and rubbing in sharp circles, the bundle of nerves swelling with tension from every pass of my fingers.
He drops my legs, his body coming down on top of mine until his slick chest rubs against my nipples, his necklace cold against the flush of my body.
My arm is mashed between us and his body weight lends an increased pressure that has my insides coiling so tight my legs shake.
“Do you want to feel me come inside you?” he whispers against my ear.
Goose bumps sprout along my overheated skin.
“Want me to shoot so deep, you can never get me out?”
My stomach tenses. “ God , yes. Put your cum in me,” I plead.
Jackson’s hips falter as he buries himself to the hilt inside of me. I can feel his cock pushing against my walls rhythmically as he comes, and the feeling catapults me off the cliff of ecstasy.
My body seizes, thousands of stars dotting my vision as I explode around him, the pain of tender flesh giving way to an electric pleasure that sparks off my skin like lightning, crashing through the air around me.
My breaths come in pants, my forehead slick with sweat as I slowly float back to Earth. Jackson is pressing soft kisses all over my neck, his body trembling as he lays against me.
And I feel…relaxed.
Happy.
Whole.
An hour later we’re still lounging in bed, only having left when Jackson grabbed a towel to clean me up and then forced me to use the restroom, saying if I don’t pee after sex, I’ll get an infection.
But now, we’re back under his sheets, our naked bodies lazily strewn against each other, his fingers tracing along my spine, holding me like I’m the only thing that matters in his world.
Right now, it feels like I am.
I’ve never been so comfortable around another person, especially not naked, but after so many times of him finding beauty in all my pieces, I think I’m starting to believe him. And he made me feel so… sexy. When I stripped down as he stroked himself and watched, I felt empowered.
I felt seen .
As we lie in his bed, relaxed and satiated, I think about our earlier conversation. The ache between my thighs doesn’t come close to the ache that split my heart as I listened to his memories. The agony bled out in his words as he talked of his friends who never cared to put him first. Of his father and all the ways he loved him.
“Sometimes I’m happy my mom died before I could know her,” I blurt out.
Jackson’s head turns toward mine, his eyebrows raising in question.
I huff out a laugh, covering my face. “I know, that sounds terrible. It’s just, I was thinking about what you told me earlier, about your dad, and…I can’t imagine having to go through what you did. Knowing what it’s like to have him and then to lose him. I—” My voice catches, emotion blocking the airways in my throat.
He lets out a heavy breath, pressing his lips to the top of my head. “Don’t compare our grief, baby. You don’t have to know something to mourn its absence.”
I chew on my lip, sadness knitting together like a blanket in my chest. “Do you think that’s why my dad works so much?”
“Because he lost her?”
Swallowing over the lump, I nod against his side.
He shrugs. “Only he knows why he does the things he does. But I know this, and I’m not sure you want to hear it.”
My stomach sinks. “What is it?”
“He loves you.”
I huff out a laugh.
“You can scoff at it all you want, Blake, but if he didn’t love you, he wouldn’t force his employee to tag along wherever you go, just to make sure you’re with someone he can trust. He wouldn’t assign security with so much tracking that it’s impossible to sneak away. He wouldn’t look so broken whenever you walk out of the room.”
My eyes sting. “He does?”
“He stares after you like he doesn’t know how to reach you.”
The cracks in my heart split open, bleeding into my stomach, creating a burn so intense I lose my breath.
“He loves you.” Jackson’s hand tilts my chin up to his face. “How could he not?”
I roll my eyes with a small grin, trying to hide the fact that his words make me feel like I’m breaking. A tear slips out, sliding along my cheek, and Jackson’s thumb wipes it away.
“I don’t know how anyone could be in your presence and not fall in love with everything that you are.”
My heart stalls. “Are you…” I hesitate, my voice wobbly with emotion. “Are you saying you love me?”
A slow smile creeps on Jackson’s face, so perfect it makes my chest ache.
“Yes, princess.” He presses a chaste kiss to my lips. “I love you. I didn’t know what love was until you.”
My heart soars, flying so fast it makes me dizzy.
He loves me.
Suddenly, a giggle bubbles up my throat and I let it out, delirious from the gamut of emotions I’ve felt in the past few hours. “I love you too, you know.”
He smirks. “Oh, I know.”
Scoffing, I lift up on my shoulder, peering down at him. “You are so cocky.”
He laughs, dragging me down until I’m lying half across his chest. “But you love me.”
I grin. “I can’t help it. Turns out, you’re extremely lovable.”
He hums, the vibration from his chest skittering across my skin. “You think so?”
There’s a serious tone to his voice that wasn’t there a moment ago, and I realize we’ve run over a pothole in an otherwise smooth road. A vulnerability you don’t even realize exists until you’re falling into it.
It makes my stomach sour, pissed the hell off that anyone has ever made him think he wasn’t worth it.
I crane my neck to meet his eyes. “I know so.”
“Does this mean you’re mine?” he asks.
My hand reaches up, scratching at his stubble. “Only if you’re mine, too.”
His face warms and he dips down, pressing our lips together, showing me all the ways he loves me.