Chapter 7 - Diesel
*Let's not waste a single minute.*
Fuck wasting time. We've done that for twenty years. Wasted opportunities, wasted chances, wasted every moment we could've had together because we were too scared, too guilty or too loyal.
Not anymore.
I've got sixteen hours until I ride into something that might kill me, and I'm not spending another second holding back.
I kiss her again, and this time I pour everything into it.
Twenty years of lust, seven years of grief, every single feeling I've buried so deep I convinced myself they'd suffocated.
My hands slide into her hair, tilt her head back, and I take her mouth like I've got the right to it.
Like she's mine and I'm hers and nothing else matters.
June makes a sound against my lips—half gasp, half moan—and her fingers dig into my shoulders hard enough to bruise. Good. I want her marks on me. Want to ride out tonight knowing exactly what I'm coming back to.
Because I am coming back. No fucking question.
I've spent my whole life alone. Losing my mother at twelve, losing my father at thirty-two, losing Tommy seven years ago. Convinced myself that's just how it worked for me. Everyone I loved disappeared eventually, so why get attached?
But June changes the equation. June makes me want to fight harder, come back bloodied and broken if I have to, just to have more of this. More of her.
The kiss goes on forever. Longest kiss of my life, and I don't want it to end. Don't want to pull away, don't want to do anything except stay right here with her mouth on mine and her body pressed against me.
But eventually we both need air. We break apart breathing hard, foreheads pressed together, and June's looking at me with dark eyes, flushed cheeks and swollen lips.
"Jackson," she whispers, and my name in her voice does things to me that shouldn't be legal.
"Yeah?"
She takes a step back, and for a second I think she's running again. But then I see her expression, all that lust and determination mixed together.
"If you keep kissing me like that," she says, voice shaky, "I'm not sure I'll be able to control myself."
A smirk pulls at my mouth. "Good. Because I'm not controlling myself either."
Her eyes go wide. "Jackson…"
I kiss her again, harder this time, backing her toward the stairs. She goes willingly, hands fisting in my shirt, pulling me closer. We break apart long enough to navigate the first few steps, then crash together again.
Clothes start disappearing. My flannel hits the banister. Her cardigan lands on the lamp. We're making out against the wall halfway up the stairs, and her hands are under my t-shirt, nails dragging across my skin in a way that makes me groan into her mouth.
"Bed," I manage to get out between kisses. "Need to get you to bed."
"Upstairs," she gasps.
We make it three more steps before I pin her against the wall again, can't help myself. She tastes too good, feels too perfect, and I've wanted this for so goddamn long that restraint isn't possible.
My shirt comes off somewhere near the top of the stairs. Her T-shirt follows. I catch a glimpse of black lace underneath before my brain short-circuits and all I can think is *June, June, fucking finally June.*
We stumble into the hallway, still kissing, hands everywhere. She backs toward a door, her bedroom, has to be, and I follow like she's gravity and I've got no choice.
By the time we cross the threshold we're both down to underwear. She's in black lace that makes my mouth go dry, and I'm trying very hard not to just throw her on the bed and skip all the parts that should probably come first.
I stop, panting, and just look at her.
June Brannigan standing in her bedroom in black lace and nothing else, hair messed up from my hands, lips swollen from my mouth, looking at me like I'm the only thing she wants.
Most beautiful woman I've ever seen.
"Christ, June," I say roughly.
"What?" She sounds breathless.
"You're—" I can't even finish the sentence. Just shake my head and close the distance between us again, kiss her slower this time, trying to memorize every second.
She kisses me back just as thoroughly, her hands mapping my chest, my shoulders, my back. Like she's memorizing me too. Like she's afraid this is the only time we'll get.
It won't be. I'm making damn sure of that.
Her hands slide down to my waistband and my control snaps. I walk her backward until her legs hit the bed, and she sits on the edge, looking up at me with those blue eyes that have wrecked me since the day I met her.
Part of me still can't believe this is happening. That she's here, kissing me, touching me, looking at me like she wants this as much as I do.
Part of me still feels like I'm betraying Tommy. Like this is wrong and selfish and everything I swore I'd never do.
But I can't stop. Won't stop. Not now.
I drop to my knees in front of her, and June's breath catches.
"Jackson…"
"Let me," I murmur, running my hands up her thighs. "Please, June. Let me taste you."
She squints her eyes. "Okay."
I kiss her knee. Then higher. Then higher still, working my way up the inside of her thigh while she trembles under my hands. Her skin is soft, warm and I can feel her pulse racing under my lips.
When I reach the edge of that black lace, I pause, look up at her.
"You sure about this?" I ask, even though stopping might actually kill me.
June's hand comes down to cup my face, thumb brushing across my cheekbone. "This is hard," she says quietly. "It's complicated and messy and part of me still feels guilty. But it doesn't feel wrong, Jackson. It feels right. It feels like something that was always going to happen eventually."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." She smiles, and there are tears in her eyes. "I think Tommy's probably looking down at us right now calling us both idiots for taking so long to take a step forward and be happy. That's the kind of man he was. He'd want this for us."
A rough laugh escapes me. "He'd probably call me a knucklehead."
"Definitely." June's still smiling through the tears. "But he'd be glad. I know he would."
The guilt doesn't disappear completely, probably never will, but it eases enough that I can breathe again.
I kiss her inner thigh one more time, then stand and pull her up with me. Lead her further into the bedroom until we're standing beside the bed, her bed, the one she shared with Tommy, and I shove that thought down before it can derail everything.
"Lie back," I tell her.
She does, scooting toward the center of the mattress, and I follow her down. Brace myself above her on my forearms and just look at her for a long moment.
"I love you," I say. Need her to hear it again, need to say it while I can.
"I love you too." Her hands come up to frame my face. "Come back to me tonight, Jackson. Promise me you'll come back."
"I promise." I kiss her forehead, her cheeks, the corner of her mouth. "I've got too much to come back to now. No way I'm missing out on more of this."
"Good."
I kiss my way down her neck, across her collarbone, between her breasts. She arches under me, hands sliding into my hair, and the little sounds she makes, soft gasps and sighs, are going to haunt me in the best possible way.
I take my time with her. Map every inch of skin with my mouth, learn what makes her gasp and what makes her moan. When I finally hook my fingers in the waistband of that black lace and pull it down, she lifts her hips to help, and I nearly lose my goddamn mind.
"Beautiful," I murmur against her hip. "So fucking beautiful, June."
"Jackson, please—"
I spread her thighs and put my mouth on her, and the loud and unrestrained sound she makes goes straight to my cock.
She tastes perfect. Sweet and warm. I work her with my tongue, slow and thorough, learning what she likes.
When I find the rhythm that makes her thighs tremble, I stay there, build her up until she's gasping my name.
"Jackson, I'm… Oh God, I'm close—"
I double down, add two fingers inside her, and she comes apart with a cry that I'll remember for the rest of my life. Her whole body shakes, fingers fisting in my hair hard enough to hurt, and I work her through it until she's boneless and panting.
When I finally pull back and look up at her, she's staring at the ceiling with dazed eyes and flushed cheeks.
"Holy shit," she breathes.
I grin and kiss my way back up her body. "Good?"
"Good doesn't even begin to cover it." She pulls me down into a kiss, tasting herself on my lips, and her hands immediately go for my briefs. "Your turn."
"June, you don't have to—"
"I want to." She pushes me onto my back, and I go willingly. "I've been wanting to for years, and I'm done waiting."
She strips them off, and my cock springs free, already hard as steel. June's eyes go wide for a second, then darken with want, and that look alone nearly makes me come.
"Christ, June—"
She wraps her hand around me and I groan, hips jerking involuntarily. Her grip is perfect. Firm but not too tight, exactly the right pressure. She strokes me once, twice, watching my face like she's memorizing my reactions.
"Tell me what you like," she murmurs.
"Anything you do is going to be perfect," I manage to get out.
She smirks, wicked and confident in a way I've never seen from her, and lowers her head.
The first touch of her tongue against my cock makes my brain short-circuit. She licks from base to tip, then takes me into her mouth and I nearly come apart right there.
"Fuck," I groan, one hand fisting in the sheets.
She doesn't stop. Just takes me deeper, hollowing her cheeks, creating suction that makes my toes curl.
Her lips slide up and down my shaft, wet, warm and absolutely fucking perfect.
One hand wraps around the base of my cock, stroking what won't fit in her mouth.
The other cups my balls, rolling them gently.
I'm trying very hard not to thrust up into her mouth, trying to maintain some semblance of control, but it's a losing battle. She's too good at this, too enthusiastic, and the sight of her…
Hair falling across her face, lips stretched around my cock, spit dripping from the corners of her mouth, is the hottest thing I've ever seen.
"Jesus Christ, June," I gasp. "You're going to kill me."
She pulls off with an obscene pop, lips swollen and slick. "Good."
Then she takes me deep again, and this time she doesn't hold back. Her head bobs faster, tongue swirling around the head every time she pulls up. Saliva drips down my shaft, makes everything slick and messy and so fucking good I can barely breathe.
I can feel the orgasm building at the base of my spine. Too fast, too soon, but I've been wanting this for twenty years and my body doesn't care about timing.
"June," I warn, voice strained. "Baby, I'm close…"
She doubles down instead of pulling back, taking me even deeper.
"Fuck! June, stop, I'm going to—"
She doesn't stop. Keeps working me with her mouth and hands, pushing me right to the edge.
"June!" I grab her shoulder, pull her off my cock before I lose it completely. "Stop. I'm about to come."
She sits back on her heels, breathing hard, lips red and swollen. "Isn't that the point?"
"Not like this." I pull her up, roll us so she's under me again. "When I come, I want to be inside you. Want to feel you around me."
Her eyes go wide. "Jackson…"
"Tell me you want that too," I say, settling between her thighs. "Tell me you want me inside you."
"Yes," she gasps. "God, yes. Please."