15. Jackson
15
jackson
Margot’s name pops up on the screen, and I answer. “This is a big step. I don’t think you’ve ever called me.”
The sound of her unlocking a door meshes with her breath of laughter. “Shut up.”
“You called as soon as you found out I was alone. Are you planning on having your way with me?”
She laughs again, and it’s the best fucking sound. Being on tour is a constant distraction. I still miss her, but there’s always something to keep those thoughts at bay. I’ll think about how much I wish I were still waking up next to her, but then I’ll have to do a sound check. I’ll wonder what she’s doing, but then Dave will walk up and share some lyrics he’s been working on. It’s a blessing, really, having something to ground me when I start dreaming about being somewhere else. But hearing her voice? Hearing her laugh? I didn’t realize how much I missed her until now.
“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”
“I would,” I say, my mind already reeling. It sounds like she sets her keys down, and I can perfectly picture her walking through her apartment. I wish I were there. I wish I could touch her. Thanks to the bourbon, I blurt, “I miss you.”
“I miss you too,” she says with a smile in her voice, and it sounds like she’s finally sat down somewhere. “Want to tell me why you’re drunk and alone?”
Getting comfortable on my bunk, I say, “We were celebrating with our new manager, and I’m not old enough to keep the party going.”
“Should I be judging this new manager for convincing the guys to leave you behind?”
My lips press together with amusement. She’s the only one who’s willing to get mad about shit on my behalf. “No. He’s cool. I think my age just caught him off guard.”
“Fine.” After a moment, she adds, “Jackson, you have a manager. ”
The excitement in her voice brings a smile to my lips, but it’s quickly followed by a pang in my chest. I take another sip from the bottle. “I wish you were here. I wish I could bury my face in your neck and smell your hair.”
Laughter bubbles out of her. “Smell my hair?”
“Your hair always smells like your strawberry shampoo. I miss it.” I hesitate, but the words, “I miss you,” tumble from my mouth again before I can stop them.
There’s still a smile in her voice when she says, “How much have you had to drink?”
Don’t I tell her I miss her when I’m sober? Rubbing my palm against my forehead, I try to remember, but nothing comes to mind. “Enough to make me say stupid shit, but not enough for me to fall over.”
“You haven’t said anything stupid,” she says softly, and I wish I could kiss her.
“I just want to touch you,” I rub my hand over my face. “Or see you . . . Fuck,” I shake my head. “I don’t know.”
“What would you do if I were there?” she asks .
I pause with the bottle to my lips. “What?”
“What would you do,” she says again, more slowly this time, “if I were there?”
My hand grips the bottle tighter. “Don’t ask me that while I’m drunk.”
She giggles, and the sound shoots straight to my groin. “That’s exactly why I’m asking.”
“Are you trying to get me hard, Margot?”
“Maybe,” she says simply, sweetly—far more innocently than she is.
“Well, it’s working,” I mutter as I set the bottle down and readjust.
“Jackson,” she says in a voice that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “What would you do?”
“You’re serious?” I ask before tossing back more bourbon.
“Very,” she says as she lets out a sigh. “I need this.”
My jeans suddenly feel too tight, and I let out a groan. “Where are you?”
“On my bed.”
“What are you wearing?”
She lets out a light laugh. “Nothing sexy. I’m still wearing the black skirt and white blouse I wore to work.”
I know the exact outfit. I’ve seen her in it countless times, and I know how fucking gorgeous she looks. She looks gorgeous in everything. “No that’s—” I swallow. “No, I can work with that.” Just picturing her is making it harder to think straight. “I mean, I could work with anything when it comes to you, but that’s . . . that’s perfect.” I down a little more bourbon before setting the bottle on the floor near my bunk. “You want to know what I’d do to you?”
“Please,” she breathes, and somehow that one word has me more turned on than anything else she’s said tonight.
I wipe my hand over my mouth. “Margot, are you touching yourself? ”
“Not yet,” she says in a voice that suddenly sounds shy. I know she gets herself off while I’m not there, but we’ve never done this together.
“I want you to touch yourself.”
“Okay.”
The image of her, in her black skirt, lying on her bed with her hand between her legs could probably get me off on its own. My thoughts are scattered as I think about all the things I’d like to do to her right now. There are too many.
“How does it feel?” I ask, my voice hoarse, and my mind still caught up in the visual she gave me.
She lets out a low hum. “Not as good as when you do it.”
I stifle the groan those words threaten to pull from me as I lean back. “Fuck your hand like you fuck me, Red. I promise you know what you’re doing.”
“Jackson,” she half scolds, half laughs.
“I’m serious. You never hold back with me, so don’t hold back with yourself. I want to hear every sigh and moan that comes from your pretty mouth.”
She sucks in a breath.
“If you were here, I’m not going to lie, I’d want to be selfish,” I say, my voice low. “I’d want your mouth around my cock. I don’t think I’ve ever told you how good your mouth feels, but it’s so fucking good, Margot. And the sight of you?” I shake my head, my hand rubbing over my face. “Just seeing you look up at me while you slowly take me in is enough to make me want to come.” A soft moan leaves her lips, and it gives me too much satisfaction. “You take me so well when I fuck your mouth, Margot. You’re so fucking good. And when I come down your throat, I know you love it. I can see it in the way your eyes flutter shut as you swallow. I can feel it in the way you go back for more, sucking me dry.” The sound that comes from her throat is enough to make my dick twitch. Unzipping my jeans, I reach into my pants and pull myself free. My eyes shut, and my head falls back as I wrap my hand around my cock and do my best to pretend it’s Margot I’m feeling. “Admit it. Admit that you love it.”
Her breath is tight and airy when she says, “I do. I love it.”
“Love what?”
She lets out a soft moan. “I love when you come in my mouth.”
Fuck me.
“Slip a finger inside you.” I wish I could be the one to feel her, but knowing she’s doing it herself does something to me in a completely different way.
“How do you make me so wet when you’re not even here?” she breathes. Before I can say anything, she adds, “You know . . . I wish I could taste you now. I wish I could make you come while I do this.”
I let out a groan, my hand pumping harder. There’s something so soft and dream-like in her voice. I know she’s getting lost in this. Fuck, I’m getting lost in this.
“I want you inside me,” she says, her breath heavy with heat. “I want you to fill me until I can feel you everywhere.”
Jesus Christ.
“Margot, have you put another finger in?”
“Mhm . . .” The sound comes out of her slow, laced in pleasure.
“Good girl,” I rasp, knowing her eyes are squeezed shut. I know her lips are parted. I know she’s rolling her hips in a way that could get me off in seconds. Moving my phone from the crook of my neck, I put it on speaker and set it on my bunk, so I can fucking focus. Her breathing quickens. “That’s it. Fuck your hand like you fuck me.”
Another moan leaves her lips. “Sometimes,” she says, panting, “when you’re inside me, it feels like there’s nowhere for you to go.” Her words come out choppy. “It feels like you couldn’t possibly stretch me further . . . fuck me deeper . . . but you always do. You always fuck me so good, Jackson.”
“Fuck,” I hiss, my hand tightening around my cock. “If you keep talking like that, you’re going to make me come.”
“Tell me how you’d fuck me.”
My balls throb, begging for release. “I’d bend you over and push that skirt up.”
Another whimper.
“You’d be so fucking wet, and I’d take you from behind. I’d fuck you the way you want to be fucked, Red. Harder than I’ve ever fucked you before. Because you’re mine.”
“Oh, god,” she says, and I know she’s close.
My lower back tingles, but I grit my teeth. “You’re mine. Say it.”
She’s breathing hard. “I’m yours,” she says, quickly followed by the sweet sound of her coming undone. That’s all it takes for my back to stiffen as my own release sends a shudder through my entire body. It’s the hardest I’ve come since leaving, and just the sound of her ragged breaths slowly returning to normal has me wishing the band would leave me alone more often, so I can do this again and again.