Chapter 4 #2
The way he says it—low, rough, dripping with possession—sends a sharp pulse of heat straight between my thighs. And it infuriates me. He shouldn’t have this kind of control over my body. He shouldn’t be able to twist me up and make me ache with nothing but his voice.
Abruptly lifting my head, I grab his jaw. “Shut. The. Fuck. Up,” I say, squeezing. He winces, which gives me a tiny spark of joy. “Do you ever use your mouth for anything besides making smart-ass comments?”
“Do you really want an answer to that?” he says with that cocky smirk—the kind that makes it impossible not to remember what else that mouth can do.
Then a thought comes to me. Who else has he used that mouth on? Jealousy burns in my chest, which is so fucking dumb. We’re not together, and haven’t been for years, but try telling that to the naive girl I’ve just resurrected.
I straighten and look down at him, feeling more confident than I normally do. There’s something about having this beautiful man at my mercy that will do that, I guess. “Why don’t you show me?”
He has me flipped and pinned against the mattress before I can even finish the question.
His hands move to my black work slacks, impatiently pulling at the zipper until—like everything else on this planet—it finally surrenders to him.
My pants are off in seconds, followed by my panties, but thankfully, my dress shirt is long and covers most of me.
When he reaches for that, too, I stop him. “The shirt stays on,” I say firmly.
“I’ve seen you before, Ava. All of you,” he growls.
But things are different now. The scars beneath the fabric tell a story I’m not willing to share, especially with him. Each raised line is a reminder of what I survived, what changed me. And he doesn’t get that part of me. Not anymore.
“It stays on.”
For a second, he doesn’t say anything, and my heart races, wondering if he’s going to force the issue. Finally, he chuckles, breaking the silence. He moves with deliberate slowness, hands bracing against the sheets on either side of my hips as his head disappears between my thighs.
Oh, shit. I’m really letting him do this.
Holding my breath, my muscles go rigid. Not gonna lie, present-day-me is spiraling, terrified of getting sucked back into Jackson’s gravitational pull after three years of learning to live without him.
“Relax,” he growls, cupping his hands under my ass so he can tug me closer to his mouth. His blunt fingernails bite into my skin, and all I can see is his mess of thick, dark hair between my thighs.
Holy shit.
I pull in a shaky breath and stare up at the ceiling, anticipation working through my veins as I lie there, legs spread, with Jackson-fucking-McKnight face-to-face with my pussy.
I should be disgusted. This guy kidnapped me, for fuck sake. Stole me away from my life, because, what…he was bored, and he felt like it? I should hate him, and I do, but at this point, I’m in it…
With his thumbs, he spreads my pussylips open, then licks me from base to clit in one slow, languid motion. Oh, my God. I practically levitate, my fists gripping the comforter to keep me from going airborne.
Then he pulls my clit into his mouth, sucking the tiny bud, and I swear to God, I die a little. My heart stops. My lungs seize. It’s so intense, it’s too much, and I buck while trying to shimmy away from him.
His deep chuckle reverberates through my core as he holds my hips steady, the pinch of his fingernails adding a thread of pain that weaves through the pleasure, creating something new and even more intense.
His mouth is so hot and wet against me, and it feels so damn good, I have to bite my lip to keep a moan from spilling out. Jackson has always been so good at finding that one spot that makes me crazy, and fuck, he’s still got it.
And when he pushes his tongue inside me—oh, my God—my mind goes completely blank.
The only thing that exists is Jackson’s mouth and the chaos it’s creating inside me, a hurricane of sensation.
His tongue spears into me, his mouth sucking at the same time, and within seconds, I’m thrashing, heat roaring through me like I’ve been lit on fire from the inside.
He clamps down on my hips, holding me captive as he sucks, nips, licks—every drag of his mouth feels like punishment and salvation tangled into one.
My head tilts back as I clamp my eyes shut, my inner walls pulsing as an orgasm tears through me like wildfire, consuming everything until I’m left breathless and shaking.
I’m not even aware I’m gripping his hair until he growls, low and deep, sending a vibration through me that pulls me even deeper into the abyss…
“That’s it, baby. Give it to me,” he moans against me, not letting up. He continues to lick and suck, soft and steady, as the intensity slowly fades, leaving me buzzing with aftershocks.
The world gradually comes back into focus, and I sink bonelessly into the sheets, my skin slick with sweat, lungs burning as I struggle to catch my breath. Every nerve ending still hums with the aftershocks.
That’s when the shame creeps in. This guy is unhinged. Dangerous. Why am I letting him eat me out like I’m a fucking Christmas buffet?
Commit to the bit, Ava. The easier you are to catch, the faster he’ll lose interest…
Wiping his mouth on my thigh, he crawls up my body. His weight crushes me into the mattress, his erection pressing hard and unmistakable through his jeans.
Right then, a fist slams into the bedroom door, making me jump. A voice filters through. “Yo, Lucas needs us in the Panic Room. Meet us down there.”
Jackson goes still, every muscle locked tight.
“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath.
When he pulls away, relief flickers in my chest, but disappointment slams in immediately after.
My mind is begging for him to leave, while my body aches for the heat and weight of him that’s suddenly absent.
My God, what’s wrong with me? I’ve been here less than twenty-four hours, and I’m already losing my grip on reality.
Before leaving the bed, his mouth dips to my ear, his voice a rasp, “Next time, Doe-Eyes, you’ll beg for it.”
God help me…I already want to.
How am I going to survive the next couple of days?