Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Maggie
J ackson’s mouth is… everything. Holy shit, this man can kiss.
My fingers sink into his hair, and I’m holding on for dear life as he destroys me with a single kiss.
My back arches, and he takes advantage, slipping his arm between my body and the cushion.
He shifts on top of me, one leg sliding between mine, and I make space for him, lifting mine over his thigh.
His hips thrust into me, and then he shifts closer for a heartbeat, before his weight completely disappears.
There’s a thump and the clatter of the table being knocked over. “Ow, fuck. Miscalculated the width of the couch.”
Rising on an elbow, I peer over the edge. Jackson’s stunned expression greets me, and I crack up. He tries to rise but bumps the table again, causing my glass of ice water to tip over, all over his bare torso, and he shrieks like a little girl .
I fall back to the couch in a fit of laughter.
His chuckle starts slow and soft, threatening.
A large hand clamps on my thigh, then he wrenches me off the furniture and onto him.
He makes a bark of pain and roughly shoves me away.
Bracing on my hands, I glower over at him as he curls in on himself as much as possible in the confined space, hands tucked between his legs.
“Did I…?”
“Knee. Balls,” he wheezes.
Don’t laugh at his pain, Magnolia .
But I can’t help it. A snicker slips out as I sit up with my back to the couch. “Are you okay?”
“Just. Need a minute,” he croaks, pale as a ghost and lying frozen on the floor.
When he’s recovered enough, he rolls to his back, legs splayed wide, arm flung over his face, and biceps standing out, begging to be traced with a fingertip. I shouldn’t do this. But being with Jackson is as natural as breathing. I’m tired of fighting how much I like him.
I know I’ll feel guilty later, and facing Alice will be hard. But god, do I want this night with Jackson.
“Feeling better?” I ask quietly.
He inhales and exhales slowly. The muscles in his chest flex; his abs ripple. He’s got the body of a god, as well he should, with the way he trains.
“Need me to kiss it and make it better?” Those shuddery words get the reaction I’m looking for, as his breathing noticeably changes, and he peeks over at me.
“I mean, I wouldn’t mind. It is your fault I’ve had a catastrophic injury.”
I snort and reach for the bowl of strawberries. “Here.” I pluck one from the bowl and lean over to bring it to his lips. “Peace offering.”
He bites the fruit, tongue barely grazing the edge of my finger, but it’s enough to shoot me right back to arousal.
Gripping the back of my neck, he pulls me on top of him. Careful not to further graze his tender sac, I slide my thigh over his hips and then sit up. “What can I do to help?”
His gaze heats as his eyes roam my form like he can see through my baggy sweatshirt.
“Put your hands on me, Mags.”
“Where?”
“Anywhere you want. Just touch me. Please.”
If that heated look wasn’t enough, the need in his voice does it. Instant panty combustion.
Pushing aside any intimidation, I stroke two fingers down the valley of his chest, tracing the rise and fall of each spectacular set of muscles.
His skin pebbles under my touch; his nipples grow taut.
He’s still cool from the ice water, but the farther down his body I move, it becomes warm.
His belly flexes as I trace the V that disappears into the loose waistband of his sweats.
Emboldened, I bring my other hand to his body, skimming up his sides, over his ribcage, circling the mounds of his shoulders. It’s an exotic combination of soft skin covering hard muscles. I want to trace each line and curve with my tongue.
He bends his knees behind me, pitching me forward, cradling me as I explore.
Dropping a hand to my hip, he squeezes that sensitive spot where my hip meets my thigh. I flex involuntarily, begging him to shift his thumb to the throbbing bundle of nerves between my legs. Instead, with a hand on my neck, he pulls me to his mouth.
There’s not a lot of room for us to move, wedged between the table and the couch, and it gives me an idea. I break the kiss and taste the scruff along his jaw, the line of his collarbone.
I slide a leg backward, forcing him to move his out of my way.
“Where are you going?” he murmurs.
A trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses is my answer as I inch down his body, licking over each ridge and valley of his ridiculously muscled torso. The low groan my touch elicits makes me want to explore even more.
His sweats ride even lower on his hips now, revealing the dark curls I want to run my fingers through. I pull the worn elastic away and am rewarded as his thick erection springs free.
Glancing up at him, I find his eyes on me, head propped on his arm like he’s settling in for a show.
I raise a brow at him, then give a long, slow lick up his shaft from base to tip.
His abs bunch, and his breath hitches as his cock kicks under my tongue.
It’s empowering, this response his body gives me.
Jackson is the most competent person I know. My goal is to make him lose that cool composure.
I repeat the action before taking him in hand and swirling my tongue around the tip. It’s been a long time since I’ve given a guy head. As I suck him into my mouth, he groans, hips rising like he wants to thrust into my mouth but is holding back.
What’s it going to take to make him unleash all the power in that well-built body of his?
On my next glide down, I let my tongue press a pattern over his hot flesh.
I don’t remember enjoying giving head this much, but Jackson’s gasp and the sheen of sweat glistening on his skin means I’m doing a decent job. As I pull up, I graze my teeth ever so slightly over the head of his cock, before taking him all the way to the back of my throat. And then I hum.
Jackson yanks me up by my armpits and scrambles out from under me, then I’m being lifted, my legs guided around his hips as he dances in place to rid himself of his sweats.
“What just happened?” I gasp.
“I’m not coming down your throat before I have a chance to taste you and then fuck you,” he declares, carrying me through his apartment to his bedroom.
“And I’m not going to fuck you on the floor the first time.
Or the first time I plan to remember.” He releases my legs, and we both gasp at the slide of our bodies as I find my footing.
“But you will the second?” I manage, because really, he’s got me at a loss for words.
He bends, yanking my leggings down, while I rip the sweatshirt off. Guess that blowjob did it for both of us, because I’m aching with need.
“Hmm,” he says as he climbs onto the bed on his knees, forcing me to sit, then lie back. “Maybe.”
He settles my ankle on his shoulder and skims his hand down the outside of my thigh as he grips his cock, stroking himself as he stares down at me. Jesus, why is it so hot to watch him touch himself?
I arch my back, ready for whatever he wants. He wants to use that talented tongue? Let’s do it. He wants to go with fingers? Game on. All I know is that I’m needy and writhing under him.
He rocks his hips, sliding that hard length against me, teasing me until I’m an aching mess. “Jesus, you’re so slick, and I’ve barely touched you. ”
Guess my little game backfired on me. He makes quick work of rolling on a condom, his heated gaze ensuring I know that all of that hardness is just for me.
“Swear to god, Mags. Next time, I’ll take my time and make it good for you, but right now, I need?—”
His words are lost as I replace his hand and guide him to my entrance, rocking my hips up to take him inside me. “Shut up and fuck me, Jackson.”
He slides in with a groan, and I see stars. He pulls back and thrusts again, wringing a strangled cry from me.
“Are you?—”
“Don’t stop,” I gasp, because I’m pretty sure he knew I was two seconds from orgasm, and he’s doing this shit on purpose.
He sinks all the way in with a delicious roll of his hips. With a wolfish grin, he raises an eyebrow at me. “I’m just checking on you, Magnolia. You made an unholy…” He trails off with a groan when I clench around him.
I reach up to his stupidly handsome face and dig my nails into the nape of his neck. “Move.”
Finally, he does what he’s told and thrusts into me, setting a pace that requires him to hold on to my hip, pulling me into him, while simultaneously fucking me up the bed.
I brace my hands against the headboard, seeking purchase to withstand each punishing drive, and stare up at him. His eyes are closed, brow furrowed in concentration, jaw clenched. All while he’s driving into me like it’s his job.
There’s no doubt he’s talented in bed, and his body was made for sex.
But in this moment, I feel like just a willing body under him, when there should be so much more.
There’s nothing romantic or intimate about the act, and it’s so far from what I expected sex with Jackson to be like.
I expected connection and deep resonance.
But the only place we’re connected is where our bodies are joined.
It feels empty.
Heartless.
Like this means nothing to him, and I’m just a fuck he has to get through. Except I’m the fool who’s willingly handed him a piece of my heart, and he doesn’t even know it.
I shift my leg off his shoulder, slide it down his torso, and plant my foot on the bed, then put my hands on his hips before he can drive into me again. “Stop,” I gasp.
He falls still, chest heaving, but he sinks into me before asking, “What’s wrong now?”
Wrong thing to say .
I try to wrestle myself free as heat pricks my eyes, pushing against him wherever I can find purchase. This means nothing to him. I mean nothing to him. Why is my heart so tender where this man is concerned?
He grasps my flailing hands and pulls them up over my head. The action lends me more of his weight, and I choke back a sob and turn my face away, squeezing my eyes shut on the humiliation that’s barreling down on me.
Braced on his elbow, holding both of my hands in one of his, he cups my jaw with his other, turning me to face him.
“Mags, baby. What’s wrong?”
It’s the tenderness in his voice that breaks my heart into a million tiny pieces.
“Did I hurt you?”
He shifts to pull out, but reflexes have me clenching my leg around his hip, and he stills.
“You didn’t hurt me,” I lie.
Warm lips fall on my cheek, my hairline, and I realize he’s tracing the trail the rogue tears made as they leaked out .
The fingers cupping my jaw flex. He wants my attention, but I can’t face him right now. Not like this. Not when I’m sure he’ll see too much of what I can’t even admit to myself.
His lips trace back to my mouth. With a finger, he pulls on my lower lip, forcing mine to open. And then he’s licking inside my mouth. Alternating between long, drugging swipes with his tongue and soft presses to the corners of my mouth.
“Wherever you went in your head, come back to me now, gorgeous.”
My eyes pop open, and I wish I could drown in the blue pools of his. He drops his forehead to mine, skimming his nose over mine as he presses a kiss to my lips.
Sliding both arms around me, he holds me closer. My arms fall to his shoulders as my breath hitches for an entirely different reason. Maybe I was wrong.
I sink my fingers into his hair, and he holds my eyes captive as he begins rolling his hips.
Mine arch to meet him. A small smile tugs the corner of his mouth as his gaze roams my face.
He grinds into me, never breaking the eye contact, and finally, the emotional connection between us takes over.
This time without the authority and single-minded drive.
This is my Jax, the man who buys my snacks without me asking.
The man who takes me to beautiful places, who encourages me when he knows I’m struggling.
Who spends his off day helping me paint my bakery, even though he doesn’t understand why I’m doing it.
The man who is funny and a little wild to the outside world but isn’t afraid to be tender with me when I need it most. The friend who’s stolen my heart.
Hesitantly, I lean up to kiss him and am rewarded with him cupping the back of my head to hold me in place when I’d pull away.
My breath becomes a hot pant against his cheek as I realize his tongue thrusting against mine matches the way he is thrusting into me. He’s making love to me with his whole body.
That thought has me shattering around him.