Chapter 41
CHAPTER 41
L uca
One morning, Jackson says we’re off to visit the gardens at Somerton Lodge. I’m intrigued with what they’ll look like—I’ve only seen the gardens at Larchdown. He says Somerton is very grand, but it won’t hurt to get some ideas. We call at the bakery for breakfast, and I think back to the first days, when Jackson used to bring me something every day. Nowadays, breakfast is mostly toast, unless one of us takes the trouble to scramble an egg or make pancakes.
Ben is in the shop when we enter.
“This is a pleasant surprise. I’ve missed your morning visits.”
“Yeah, not passing anymore, though.” Jackson shrugs and Ben smiles.
“Well, what do I owe this pleasure to, then?”
“We’re off to see the gardens at Somerton,” I reply.
“I’ve heard they’re very beautiful, but Keith and I don’t get many chances to visit other places, with the shop.”
“But you will come to see us on opening day, I hope.”
“Oh definitely, we’re closing early that day. We wouldn’t miss it.”
“Thank you.” I’m grateful for their support.
We choose some pastries, and also some Cornish pasties and sausage rolls for lunch, and head off.
The journey takes a couple of hours and when we pull into the carpark, I can see how much larger the house and gardens are than Larchdown.
I’m a bit overawed, but when I glance over at Jackson he’s smiling and looks happy, so I try to make an effort.
They’re beautiful. I don’t think we’ll ever be able to achieve anything like it at Larchdown. We enter a hedge walk, which is almost a maze but has several exits. There are a number of people around the gardens, but when we turn a corner and are alone, Jackson turns to me.
“What’s up beautiful?” His chocolate eyes are full of concern.
“I just feel that these are things we would never be able to do at Larchdown. It’s like we’re not good enough. It doesn’t feel enough.”
“Hey.” He grabs my chin, planting a brief kiss on my lips, which gives me a thrill, as I know we’re in a public place and I’m not sure Jackson is comfortable with that. “Never compare Larchdown to anything else. There are no better or best—just different. I know some lovely gardens which are a tenth of the size of Larchdown, and some which are ten times bigger. We’re here to enjoy, not to compare.”
“Okay, I just think we have a lot to do.”
“We do. But the Larchdown style is what we call more cottage garden than formal, so it will always be more rustic looking and less ordered. But there are some things we can incorporate. C’mon, there’s something I want to show you.” He turns to go and then stretches out his hand to mine. I interlace our fingers, and he smiles.
“You okay with this?” I ask, giving his hand a squeeze.
“I’m so proud and pleased to be with you, Luca. I’m happy to let the world know that.” I feel a surge of love for him, a tidal wave of feeling. Anna’s right. I am drowning in him and I’m happy to be there—he’s my anchor.
The hedge walk gives way to a sunken garden. There are a number of small shrubs which border the paths, but the thing—or rather, things—which catch my attention, are the statues. There are perhaps a dozen or more of them dotted about, and they’re beautiful. They depict scenes of Greek gods.
“Oh!” I can’t help myself. I look over at Jackson and he’s grinning at me. He knew what my reaction was going to be. I think he planned the entire visit so I can see them.
I wander off among them, trailing my fingers over the stonework, needing to feel them under my touch.
Jackson watches me, but after a while he comes over to stand next to me.
“Beautiful aren’t they?”
I’m pretty much lost for words but manage an, “Exquisite. You planned this for me to see them, didn’t you?” He grins his answer at me.
“I wanted them to be a surprise. I wanted to watch your reaction when seeing them for the first time.”
“Thank you. They’re fantastic.”
“I was thinking we might do something similar at Larchdown.” My heart hitches at the “we” in that statement. I love that he thinks of Larchdown as home. I’m pleased, as I have plans to make that more permanent.
“Statues? Yes, that would be great.”
“I was thinking they could rise out of the meadow.”
“A garden of gods?” I’m getting excited at the thought. “Also, what about having them in bronze?” I know someone who could make them.
“Luca, sometimes you’re a genius.” Jackson puts his arm around me, and I lean against him while we gaze up at a frieze of Hercules. He presses a kiss into my hair and I don’t think I’ve felt happier in my life.
I fully allow myself to enjoy the rest of the gardens. The rose gardens are just coming into full bloom and are stunning. The house isn’t open to the public, but we’re allowed on the terrace, which gives a view over the entire gardens. They’re superb.
It’s late afternoon when we head back home, and I tell Jackson about the artist I know who could make some statues.
“I guess you want these to all be fit, male gods?” He quirks an eyebrow at me.
“You could model for one,” I suggest. His laugh is like an ocean wave on a summer’s evening, reassuring and warm.
As we get closer to home, I begin to feel hungry. Maybe it’s being out in the fresh air all day.
“Shall we call into The Arms for something to eat?” I ask.
He looks at me in genuine surprise.
“Not what I had in mind, but yes, that’s a great idea.” He swings the van into the carpark.
“What did you have in mind?”
He smiles. “Oh, we’ll get to that later.”
Throughout the meal, Jackson gazes at me intensely, like he’s undressing me with his eyes. It’s insanely hot and I’m looking forward to getting home—I want to know what he has in mind. We skip dessert and suddenly it’s like he can’t take any more.
“Drink up Luca, we’re going.” I drain my wine glass and spring after him. He’s waiting for me outside, by the van. As I reach him, he presses me up against it and kisses me hard. My knees go weak as I kiss him back, a day’s worth of pent-up desire threatening to bubble over. I’m breathless, and I tilt my head back as he kisses down my jaw and neck. I love gentle, trustworthy Jackson, but I also love the more primal, animalistic Jackson too. He’s grinding his hips into mine and I feel his need. I move, trying to get some friction myself.
His mouth hovers near my ear, and he almost growls.
“Let’s go home. I want you to fuck me.”
Then his lips, his hands, his hips are gone. I’m left bereft of them and it feels like I haven’t felt his touch in a year. I yearn for it. But also, my mind is swirling. Did he say what I think he said? I don’t have time to dwell?—he’s in the van and revving it ready to go. I pull all the threads of my being that he’s unwound with his touch, together, and climb in.
I’m still dumbstruck when he stops the van in front of the house. He starts to get out, but I don’t move. He shuts the door and turns to me.
“What is it?” His voice is soft, but there’s an edge to it.
“Are you sure?” I whisper. He leans over and cups my jaw with his hand, grazing his lips over mine.
“Absolutely. I want to try being vers. It’s been on my mind for a little while.”
“But—”
“Yeah, I know, pretty boys are always bottoms.”
I’d told him that weeks ago—I’d meant it too. It had been instilled into me at school. Pretty boys don’t get to choose, they don’t get to be tops, they get to shut up and put up. It’s something I’ve never questioned, because all of my sexual experiences have been either hook-ups, or transactional at best. Until I met Jackson, who is continuing to turn my world upside down.
“Don’t you want to?” he asks, concern flickering across his face. Though I can see desire swirling in his eyes.
“I’ve never done it before,” I own up. I haven’t even considered it. Pretty boys don’t.
“Oh. I thought you had at least . . .” I shake my head.
He kisses me slowly, his tongue working its way into my mouth. I suck it in and he bites gently on my bottom lip. I can feel my desire building. He reaches down and runs his fingers down my cock, which even through my jeans, jumps under his touch. He runs his fingers up its length and pushes his thumb down firmly on the end. I nearly buck under the pressure. A moan escapes me.
“Would you like to fuck me, baby?” he asks between kisses. His thumb making slow circles round my end. I know I’m already sticky with pre-cum.
“Uh-huh,” are the only words I can form.
“Good,” he whispers against my mouth, “Let’s turn pretty boys don’t into pretty boys do .”
Jackson grabs my hand, and I slide out his side of the van.
Within minutes, we’re in my bedroom.
Jackson is undressing before we reach the bedroom, in between kisses and groans. He helps me and I help him.
Soon he throws himself back on the bed, his head on the pillows, looking at me lasciviously.
“Come here. Let me have a taste of that delicious cock.”
I kneel over his chest. He grabs the base of my cock with one hand and an arse cheek with the other. He draws me towards him.
“Fuck my mouth first, before you fuck my hole.” He growls.
I’m already dripping pre-cum.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to hold on much longer.”
His eyes glitter in response, like that’s exactly what he wants, and it’s so hot. He takes all of me in his mouth. Then pulls me forward, holding my hips to pound at him, fucking his sexy mouth. All the time his eyes are on mine, dancing with joy—he has me exactly where he wants me. It’s where I want to be, too. I barely last a minute before my release. When I pull out, he drags me down for a kiss, then I lie half on him while he combs his fingers through my hair. I need a few minutes to recharge, but I can feel his erection against my hip. I run my hands down his chest and trail a finger up and down its length.
I hear his breath hitch.
“You want to try?” He husks. I love how he’s always so tender and makes sure I’m okay, or ready. It’s not something that I’m used to, and it still makes my heart flutter every time he does it. I raise myself up and kiss him before working my way down his chest. He lets out a groan when I bite his nipple, and my cock responds. I feather kisses across his stomach, before licking the pre-cum off his end. He draws his knees up and I kneel between them. This time, it’s my turn to ask.
“You ready?”
The dark, hungry look is back as he nods at me.
Reaching for the lube, I liberally apply some to my finger. I play my fingers round his hole to spread the lube, and he spreads his legs wider. He gasps a little as my finger slides in, but when I look at him, he’s smiling broadly. It’s only a few minutes of me easing my finger in and out before he demands more and I add a second. He writhes as I continue to use my fingers on him.
“More.” It’s more of a breath than a word, but I understand and slide in a third, fucking and stretching him with my fingers. I lightly graze his prostate and his head shoots back as he groans.
“Fuck!”
I grin. I probably should’ve warned him about that.
“I’m ready, baby. Please!” His call is almost desperate.
Good, because I’m not sure I can wait any longer. The sight of his gorgeous body laid out in front of me is almost enough to push me over the edge. I push gently into him, but he grabs my hips and pulls me deeper.
As my cock hits his prostate this time, he bucks.
“Fuck, this is good,” he laughs. I know what he means, but I’m in my own moment of ecstasy as his hole grips my cock. As I push in and out, I grab his shaft, my hand moving up and down in time with the thrust of my hips.
“Jeez, Jackson, you look so delicious.” I pant.
“Not as hot as you,” he laughs back, his hips lifting and back arching as I pound in and out.
“Come for me, baby.” He moans his release a second before my own. Cum spills over his chest. He runs his fingers through it and wipes them across my mouth, before pulling me down for a kiss.