11. Jackson
JACKSON
Stone complies in seconds flat.
He’s glorious to watch—such a performer, and he loves to show off.
Right now, I’m the recipient of all that talent, all that stage presence, as he slides down to the floor of the limo, runs his hands over my thighs, and unsnaps the button on my pants.
His lips crook up.
His grin is so damn wicked.
Dripping with sex indeed.
His eyes flash with filthy intent, and I’m an electrical line, crackling, sparking.
About to snap.
That’s the problem.
It’s been ages.
But my God, his mouth is an instrument of seduction too, even like this, even as he presses his lips against my covered erection, murmuring, “I’m going to suck you so fucking good. You’ll be moaning and groaning and begging to come.”
That’s where he’s wrong.
I’ve got to tell him I won’t last long. Fair’s fair in the bedroom—or the limo, as the case may be.
But once those fingers slide down the zipper, my brain can’t quite make words form on my tongue.
Especially when he tugs at my boxer-briefs.
When he says the filthiest things.
“Show me. Show me that beautiful cock I know you have.” Stone writes an ode to my dick as he frees me from the confines of my briefs.
My cock salutes him, reporting for duty.
Loud and proud.
“Happy birthday to me,” he groans, while I run a hand along the side of his face, roping my fingers through his hair.
“There you go. All for you,” I tell him, my voice rough as my hold on anything but desire fades into the night.
“You’re magnificent,” he says, rubbing his cheek against my dick, and I moan. “I knew it. Knew your dick was going to be a masterpiece. It’s a work of art, man.” Raising his face, he wraps a fist around my length.
“Ahhh,” I moan, because, yeah, my brain can’t access the speech portion anymore.
I can only feel.
I shudder, my breath hot and heavy already as he strokes me.
One nice, long, tight stroke all the way to the base and back up, his thumb sliding over the head, swiping a bead of pre-come from the tip.
He brings his thumb to his mouth, licking my arousal off, and it’s a miracle I’m not spurting this second.
“Mmmm. You taste like you want me so damn much,” Stone says in a satisfied hum, then he blows a warm stream of air across my shaft.
And that ?—
That turns me on.
That makes my dick leak.
I do want him, so much so I’m shaking with lust.
I grip his head with both hands, trying to maintain some shred of control, some semblance of being a man getting blown, not a teenager.
But hell, this is hard.
His hand slides back down my cock, his lips brushing the head, making me tremble with need.
The need to get off.
To get off with another person for the first time in nearly two years.
Stone flicks his tongue against the crown, and my hips jerk up, my body begging for him to take me all the way. Soon, I’ll be begging with words. I need to get this under control. I have to find the will. Have to tell him this may only take seconds.
With my fingers coiled on his skull, I clear my throat, tugging him away from my dick. “I’m not going to last long,” I mutter, staring up at the ceiling of the limo.
But when my gaze returns to him, the man is grinning, all wicked and satisfied. “That so?”
“It’s been a while,” I admit, a little embarrassed.
Or maybe a lot.
“A long while,” I add.
His grin disappears. His green eyes are open, judgment-free. “You can fuck my face for an hour or for a minute. I’m down for anything.”
I swallow roughly, grateful that Stone’s not asking more questions. “Bet on a minute,” I tell him, a wry grin tugging at my lips too.
“Good. Because that means I can make you come again, then. There are so many fun ways to get off, don’t you think?”
Stone doesn’t seem to care about the answer, since he bats my right hand away so he can dip his face into my lap again. He sucks the head between his lips, making my pulse surge and wildly thrum through my entire being.
After pushing my pants farther down, he slides a hand under my cock and cups my balls.
My skin sizzles all over as he plays with me, as he murmurs against my dick, licking stripes up the underside as he talks.
“Love that you’ve got size everywhere. Your cock, your balls—there’s more of you to play with.
More of you to lick and suck and tease.”
But he doesn’t tease.
He takes.
He takes all of me in seconds, drawing me to the back of his mouth until I am lodged in his throat. It’s miraculous how fantastic it feels.
I hiss, my hips shooting up as desire ricochets through me. Tightens in me instantly, a storm of lust brewing in the base of my spine as I sink into the bliss of contact, of desire, of touch.
It’s been so long.
But this is like riding a bike.
And I let go of the handlebars, flying downhill.
I let go of all my stress, let go of everything else in the world. I give in to the delicious torture, to the mind-bending blur of the twin sensations of him tugging on my balls as he swirls his tongue all along my shaft.
I give myself over to the foreign feeling of this .
This thing I haven’t indulged in for so long—pleasure with another person.
And now, I want to indulge in everything. Want to have every ounce of ecstasy, of lust.
Most of all, I want to come.
I want to come in his throat.
Want to watch his lips suck my dick hard.
Want to see his eyes roll back in his head as I fuck his sinful mouth.
I snap my eyes open, savoring the sight in front of me, the rock star between my legs, devouring my cock. His right hand slides up and down my thigh, and his left plays with my balls while his lips are stretched wide around my shaft.
All of me so damn deep in his mouth.
It’s filthy, the way he sucks me to the root. Filthy and beautiful as he rocks his mouth up and down my dick. My hands curl tighter around his head, gripping him, driving him deeper onto my shaft as lust crackles along my spine, builds in a fury, and then explodes.
Savagely.
I shove in farther as my body sizzles, and I warn him of my release. “Coming. Coming now.”
I toss my head back, grunting, growling.
Losing all my control as I climax down his throat.
My world spins off its axis as I pant, moan, and shake. Everything is black and beautiful, and I am so far gone I can’t think, can’t speak.
All I can do is groan over and over.
I can’t even stop when he lets go of me with a loud, wet pop.
I can’t stop when he climbs back up on me, straddling me again.
Or when he wraps his arms around my neck, threads his fingers through my hair, and brushes a tender, sexy kiss to my lips.
I can taste myself on him.
Most of all, I can taste pleasure again.
I know I should stop. But I’m not thinking when my hands roam around his hips and back to his jeans, the lure of his ass too powerful for me.
I want it.
I want him.
I want to bury myself in his body and let the pleasure wash over me. Let it drag me under.
Because this is the antidote to the last two years.
To the pain, the numbness, the stress.
But if I sleep with him tonight, I’ll come in two minutes instead of one.
And I can’t have that. I can’t add my current short fuck-fuse to the equation. I’m going to need to build up my endurance again before I go there.
Go there?
What the hell?
I’m not going there.
I cannot be seriously thinking about taking my boss to bed.
I can’t. I won’t. I’ll stop.
I have to.
Blow jobs are one thing.
Sex is another matter entirely.
Endurance or no endurance, sex isn’t something I should do with him.
But then again, this night does exist in its own parallel universe.
It’s a one-time-only space.
And there are plenty of other things to do besides fuck.
I clear my throat, my voice hoarse when I speak. “So, was that about ninety seconds?”
He laughs. “Give or take.”
I smirk. “Round two.” I grip his ass. Hard. Firm. “Need to take you to your suite. Get these clothes off. Want to finger you, jerk you off, make you come.”
He hums, like that’s the most delicious thing anyone’s ever said to him. “Under one condition.”
“Yeah?” I arch a brow. “What’s that?”
He bends his face to my ear and licks the shell. I gasp, shocked at how good it feels. “That I get to make you come again too.”
Maybe I’m a selfish bastard, but that was always part of my plan. So I say yes.