19. Jackson #2
She ground her hips forward, pushing my thumb harder against her. “More,” she begged. She buried her face in the crook of my neck, her breath fanning out against my flesh. “More, Jack.”
She moaned as I slid two fingers inside of her, so easily, like slicing through butter. She ground against me again, and I circled my thumb over her clit, taking in every sound she made and memorizing it. If this moment was all I’d be getting, I wanted to keep it forever.
My cock pressed painfully against my zipper. She had to have felt it beneath her, but I wasn’t going to push. This was enough. “Please,” she begged again, her dampness pooling in the palm of my hand. “Fuck me. I need you to fuck me.”
Holy shit. I paused, every part of me going stiff, the words lingering between us. “Do you mean that?”
“Yes,” she whispered without any hesitation.
“Look at me, Mandy.” I grabbed her gently by the back of the neck, forcing her to make eye contact with me. “Do you mean that?” I repeated, emphasizing every word.
She breathed heavily, her breasts sliding against my chest with every rise and fall. “Yes,” she said again, giving me a little nod. “I mean it.” Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.
She was going to fucking break me.
I groaned a sigh of relief as I pressed my lips back to hers, more demanding this time. She was giving herself to me on a silver platter and I would take every bite she would allow me.
I stood, picking her up with me, gripping her by her thighs. Her stockings ripped more as I carried her, little holes with lines spreading down her legs, and without giving myself a moment to chicken out, I sat her down on the table in front of the seat she’d occupied only moments ago.
She hooked her legs around my waist as I fumbled with my belt, releasing it as quickly as my shaking hands would allow. I kissed her lips, her neck, her jaw. I wanted more of her body, but I wasn’t going to let this slip away. It was now or never.
My cock sprang out as I pulled my slacks down, the freedom of it making me gasp. The tip rested gently on her entrance, the warmth of it feeling like heaven, and I hooked my fingers into the top of the hole in her stockings, ripping it just a little bit more, giving myself further access.
I’d slept with women since her. I’d been in relationships since her, but nothing, absolutely fucking nothing, would compare to this.
She laid back on the table, her back arching, her moans growing louder as I slid myself inside of her. She fit around me like a fucking glove. “Yes,” I grunted, leaning over her, the sense of rightness almost too much to bear. “Yes . We fit together so fucking perfectly.”
Heat flooded her cheeks as she watched me, a little smile tugging at her lips. I found her clit again, my fingers slowly beginning to circle as she shivered, little ripples from her muscles massaging my cock before I even started to move.
But then I did.
“Jack,” she gasped, her hands flying to my collar, my neck. She pulled me down further toward her, her eyes wild, her body wriggling frantically beneath me.
My hips met hers, moving slowly at first, but soon picking up speed. I couldn’t hold back my grunts, my moans, not with her. It was too much.
Her eyes glanced down to where our bodies joined, her skirt flipped up against her stomach. “Oh my God,” she whispered, as I buried every inch of myself inside of her, the feeling of her walls gripping me tighter driving me insane. “Harder. Please. I want to see you fuck me harder.”
How could I not give her what she wanted?
I picked up my speed, slamming into her with more force, my own release building. I could hold out for her, but it had to happen soon.
“Is this what you wanted?” I asked, pushing her legs further up, opening her more to me. I kept my pace on her clit, knew damn well that if she wanted something different she would ask, but just looking at her like this made me want more from her. “Tell me, princess.”
“Yes,” she moaned, her head falling back against the table with an audible thud. Her muscles squeezed me tighter, her little groans growing more desperate, more frequent. “It’s what I wanted. Fuck. You’re gonna make me?—”
She cried out, a guttural, frenzied noise ripping from her throat as her body seized and then released.
She gasped for air, her orgasm ripping through her, her walls pulsing.
My own orgasm chased hers and she shook gently beneath me as it hit me like a wave, pulling me under the surface, drowning me in her . I’d gladly go out like that.
I kissed her and held her as our climaxes subsided. “Jack,” she muttered, still catching her breath as our movements stilled. Every part of me was blinded by piercing satisfaction, pleasure rolling through my veins like ecstasy. I struggled to focus. “Jackson.”
“Hmm?”
Her hands rested gently on my cheeks as I lowered her legs, minimizing the space between us. “Did you mean what you said before? That I wasn’t the only one in love back then?” She asked, her voice small, words a little broken between breaths.
Her question pulled me back to the present. I slid an arm under her waist and lifted her so she was sitting up. I kissed her forehead, her eyelids, her lips. It hurt that she still didn’t quite believe me, but it was something I was willing to keep reinforcing until she did.
“Jack,” she whispered. A quiet request for an answer.
I rested my forehead against hers, unwilling to let this moment be ruined but knowing damn well she wouldn’t appreciate my silence.
“I don’t think I ever stopped loving you, Mandy.”