Chapter 17 - Isaac
The first time I heard Jackson speak my name, it was laced with fear, broken by a sob. I think the sound of it just might haunt me for the rest of my life.
But I only have myself to blame.
I finally snapped. The weight of it all—the accusations, the rumors, the distrust— finally crushed me past my breaking point. The final straw was seeing all of that in Jackson’s eyes, in his whispered question.
Did you?
No, I fucking didn’t.
But the fact that Jackson could believe any of it? That he could look at me with those eyes I’ve come to know and think I was capable of that…
It tipped me so far over the edge that I nearly took him over with me.
And I already regret it more than anything I’ve ever done.
I’d broken something. Maybe him, maybe me. Maybe both of us.
As he looked at me with eyes full of tears and the echo of his fear and rage hanging in the air, I knew with a hollow certainty that whatever existed between us—trust, curiosity, whatever fragile thing it was—was gone now.
Since I had probably ruined everything, I decided to go for the Hail Mary. I needed one last touch, one last kiss, before he slipped through my fingers forever.
But in an unexpected turn of events…he kissed me back.
His breath trembles against my mouth, and his pulse flutters against my fingers where they’re pressed beneath his jaw, his skin warm despite the cold. Every instinct screams at me to let him go, to take a step back and give him the space he deserves.
But I can’t fucking stop.
I move forward, backing him up over the bridge until we’re on the other side. He doesn’t let go of my coat, and I don’t let go of him, our lips never parting even as I guide us toward the trees.
The night is cold and sharp as knives, but every inch of him burns.
The sound of the river blurs into the background as I open one eye long enough to choose the shortest path into the darkest shadows, forcing him in that direction. The moment his back hits a tree and he gasps into my mouth, I pull away to give us both a chance to breathe.
He peers at me through his lashes, eyes hooded and uncertain. His chest heaves, lips still parted, wet from my kiss. His hands are still on my chest, not pushing me away. His pulse hammers against my palm.
“I’ll give you two choices, Jackson.” I lean in close enough for my breath to brush his ear. “You can walk away right now. Pretend none of this ever happened.” My hand slides up, fingers sweeping along his jaw before I catch his chin and force his gaze back to mine. “Or you can get on your knees.”
For a second, I think he doesn’t understand what I’ve just said. Then my words seem to register with the slight widening of his eyes. His breath hitches, and he pushes against me, not hard enough to break free but enough that I feel the tremor in his hands. Like he doesn’t want to escape.
“Why the hell should I?”
“You shouldn’t,” I tell him honestly.
After what I just did?
He should choose the first option.
But something inside me needs him to choose the second. Not because it’s what I want, but because I need to know if I’ve ruined us forever. Maybe the smartest choice would be to give it time, to give him space.
But if I have to watch him walk away, I don’t know if I could risk it again.
I lean forward and let my lips brush the corner of his. “But if there’s any part of you that still wants to be good, then you will.”
A shiver passes through him and into me.
He learned my weakness, and I learned his.
This time when Jackson pushes against me, I take a small step back, preparing myself to watch him walk away. When he drops shakily to his knees, I try hard to hide my surprise. He stares up at me, and I hope the shadows are dark enough to mask the pure relief on my face.
This may not mean he forgives me, but maybe it means he can.
He blinks expectantly, waiting for my next move, my next command.
But…
The truth is, I don’t want him on his knees. Not right now. I just want him to always look at me the way he is now, to never again look at me like I’m the monster everyone whispers I am.
But I can’t seem to say that.
The words get lost somewhere between my chest and my throat.
Instead, I brush my thumb across his cheek and smile down at him. “You really are such a good boy, aren’t you?”
He leans into my touch and makes a small noise that tempts me. Before I can give into it and keep him on his knees, I drop my hand.
“Stand up.”
He frowns, his brows scrunched in confusion, but he does what I say.
He’s still shaking, leaning his back against the tree for support.
He peers at me with that same anticipating expression, laced with more uneasiness and doubt now that he doesn’t know what to expect of me, like I might actually just send him away now.
Which is the last thing I want to do.
He waits, patient and tense, while I stare back in silence. Wondering…
How the fuck do I grovel to this man so that maybe he’ll let me keep him when the time is right?
He swallows and shifts on his feet, my hesitation making him anxious.
“Sir?”
Any other time, that single whispered word would be enough to tempt me into action, to take control in all the ways I normally love. But I don’t think that’s what either one of us really needs right now.
I let out a sigh and shake my head. “Not tonight. Tonight, I just want you to say my name.”
He licks his lips, his eyes briefly flashing brighter.
“Isaac.”
His voice cracks a little on the last syllable, but I don’t care. It’s the most honest sound I’ve ever heard from him—raw and trembling, stripped of everything we usually hide behind.
My eyes close, and a weight I didn’t even realize was crushing everything inside my chest lifts.
I needed that. I needed to hear him say my name without the fear that I caused.
Something in me loosens as I breathe him in, and it feels like the first real breath I’ve taken since I nearly lost him to the edge.
Since I nearly became something I couldn’t come back from.
Leaning forward, I drop my forehead against his and say, “Perfect.”
And then I kiss him.
The moment our lips meet again, it’s slower this time. Less desperation, more ache. The kind that settles deep in the chest and spreads like heat. His breath shudders against my mouth, and I can taste the cold night on his lips, the faint trace of river water from the mist in the air.
His body presses flush to mine, warmth seeping through the thin layers between us, and I realize just how close I came to never feeling this again.
I slide a hand up the back of his neck, my thumb brushing the line of his jaw. When I finally pull back, his eyes appear glassy in the dark. For a second, I can’t tell which one of us is shaking more.
And then he whispers my name again, softer this time, like it’s something fragile he’s afraid to lose.
“Isaac.”
It feels like forgiveness whispered against my lips.
But it’s not enough.
So I drop to my knees.
There’s a slight twinge when they hit the cold, hard ground, but I ignore it as I reach for the button of his jeans.
“Wh-what are you doing?”
I peer up at him as I slowly lower his zipper. “Do you want me to stop?”
He shakes his head without hesitation.
I grin to myself as I lower his jeans and underwear past his hips and the top of his thighs until his dick is freed. He’s not fully hard, halfway there most likely due to the intensity of our kiss. Like me.
But this isn’t about me.
I probably shouldn’t be doing this. Not after telling him we couldn’t, not after trying to set a good example, to follow the rules.
But I can’t seem to give a fuck about the rules when I want him so goddamn badly.
It’s not that I’m worried about being caught, not all the way out here.
This road is dead at this time of night.
Silent. Not even the sound of distant cars reach us.
We’re alone. No lights. No voices. Just the wind moving through the trees and the steady, rushing pulse of the river.
The world feels miles away, like we’ve stepped outside of it.
Like time itself forgot to follow us here.
The smell of fog, of wet leaves and pine, lingers in the air, sharp and earthy, grounding me in the moment even as I lose every shred of sense I have left.
I’m already too far gone to stop.
As I take him into my mouth, his cock thickens on my tongue. He moans and drops his head back against the tree. The taste of him bursts on my tongue, and I lap up the precum that leaks from his tip, teasing his slit before I suck him back down.
His hands are balled into fists at his sides.
As I hollow my cheeks, keeping him firmly in my mouth, I reach out, grab one of his wrists, and guide his hand to the back of my head, giving him permission to touch me, to use me if he wishes.
It at least gives him the courage to give a little thrust of his hips.
I move with him until the tip of his cock hits the back of my throat, drawing another long, low moan out of him.
“Isaac.”
This time when he says my name, it feels like absolution.
I know I’ll need to use words eventually, but if I can make him feel good after showing him the worst side of me, then that’s what I’ll fucking do.
He grips the back of my head a little tighter, and I take him a little deeper.
Reaching up, I hold his balls lightly in my hand, rolling them in my palm as my tongue occasionally makes laps around his crown or flicks at the underside of his head.
His noises grow louder, moans and whimpers and soft cries.
I suck more eagerly to draw them all out, desperate for them to drown out the sounds of the river and the memory of holding him over the water.
“Fuck. Fuck, Isaac, I’m gonna…”
His nails scratch lightly against my scalp as he scrambles to try to pull me off.
But fuck that. I want his cum.
I need it.
It’ll taste better than any other redemption I’ve been offered.
He thrusts one final time, and I swallow around his cock as his hips stutter.
The warmth of his release splashes the back of my throat, and I can just make out the salty, delicious taste of it on the back of my tongue.
I swallow again. His hips give another jerk, and his throat makes another moan that fades quietly into the night.
I lick around the head of his cock, cleaning up any lingering cum. He lets out a faint, overstimulated whimper, and I let his softening dick slip from my mouth before I push myself to my feet.
The moment I’m standing in front of him once more, he reaches for my belt. I’m tempted to let him until I notice he’s shaking even worse than before.
“Jackson?”
He doesn’t answer, just keeps fumbling with my belt.
I grab onto both his wrists to stop him. “Jackson!”
His gaze snaps up to meet mine, his breath visible in the night air in short, quick puffs. There’s a deep crease between his brows that’s even more pronounced in the shadows, and his eyes are swimming with a cocktail of emotions ranging from panic to confusion to pain.
It’s a view I’m familiar with, even if I haven’t seen it in a long time.
“Shit,” I mutter, realizing maybe a blow job wasn’t exactly the best course of action after everything he just went through.
I never claimed to be perfect, but I should’ve fucking known better.
“Come on,” I tell him as I quickly pull up his jeans and underwear. “Let’s get you warmed up.”
Taking one of his arms, I drape it over my shoulders before leaning down to scoop him up in my arms. He clings to me, trembling against my chest, as I carry him out of the shadows and back toward the road.
I thought I was only playing the bad guy, but after tonight…
I think I might just be one.