Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
NATE
Big Sky, Montana
When the big black SUV with tinted windows pulls up to my garage, I breathe a sigh of relief. Jackson gets out and inputs the code on the keypad and I watch her standing there in her snow boots and down jacket as the driver rolls the car inside. She steps in, and the door rolls closed behind her.
Thank fuck we’re back. It was a logistical nightmare getting us here undetected—a short flight from Northern Italy to Munich, Germany, then another from Munich to Chicago, then a private jet to a small airport near Big Sky, and a car service directly to the inside of my garage.
I don’t want to risk someone seeing me getting out of the car outside my house.
Even my local friends shouldn’t know I’m here, or it could put our plan at risk.
We need to stay hidden for a couple weeks, just until the holidays.
The driver takes our suitcases out for us before backing out of the garage. The second that door rolls closed, the garage light goes out and Jackson and I are rushing toward each other.
“It’s been impossible to keep my hands off you since we left Italy,” I tell her as I cup her face in my hands, loving how the soft glow of the moonlight through the windows along the top of the garage door streams in and lights her up.
“If it were impossible you wouldn’t have been able to do it,” she rolls her eyes.
“Superhuman willpower,” I say as I bring my lips down to hers and invade her mouth.
Our bodies wrap themselves around each other and our tongues clash as we each fight for control of this kiss.
She pushes up onto her toes to give herself some leverage, but I’m a step ahead, already spinning us as I move toward the wall, backing her into it.
I slow her down, drawing out the kiss as I unzip her parka.
She reaches up and pulls the zipper down on my jacket too, sliding it down my arms until I have no choice but to drop my hands and let it slide off.
“We need these clothes gone, now,” she pants as she pulls her jacket off and drops it next to mine.
“In the garage, Jax?” I can’t help but smile. She deserves better than this.
“Right now,” she growls.
Her eyes narrow as she unzips the tunic length sweater she’s wearing and lets it drop to the ground too.
Beneath it, she’s wearing a black lace bralette that barely holds her perfect tits.
I’ve spent a lifetime worshipping this part of her anatomy—perfectly sized and hyper-responsive to my touch, I can get her off just by sucking on her nipples.
That memory has me so hard my boxer briefs can’t contain me.
I reach my hand up and brush my thumb across her nipple and she responds by grabbing me by my waistband and pulling me closer, then unbuttoning and unzipping my pants.
“We’ve crossed so many time zones I don’t even know what day it is,” she says, “but I’m confident it’s been over twenty-four hours since you’ve been inside me and I’m not waiting one more second. ”
She reaches her hand into my boxers and grips me tightly, rubbing her thumb over the tip of me, sliding across the moisture that’s already pooling there and killing any objection I might have had about fucking her in the garage.
Who am I to deny this woman my dick whenever and wherever she wants it?
I lean toward her, one arm bracing myself on the wall behind her and capture her lips with mine.
She responds by squeezing me tighter as she works her hand up and down my shaft, circling my head with her fingers each time she reaches the tip.
“You drive me fucking crazy,” I say pulling back and cupping her breasts in my hands before leaning down and sucking one of her nipples into my mouth through the lace fabric.
Her hips piston forward looking for mine, and I fucking love the way her body responds to me.
I take her other nipple in my mouth as she continues to jerk me off, then I reach up and slide the lace to the side.
I suck her fully into my mouth, taking long pulls on her nipple followed by the flat lapping of my tongue over that sensitive area.
“Nate,” she moans, then lets go of my dick and shoves my pants down to my calves where they rest at the top of my snow boots.
Then her hand is back on me, stroking me faster and harder until I’m the one that’s moaning.
She lets me go again, pulling away so she can pull her leggings down, then she guides my hand to the small triangle of lace held in place between her legs by thin black strings.
I run my finger beneath the lace, along her seam, and I’m amazed at how wet she already is.
I circle her clit, but each time she presses her hips into my hand I slide my finger back down to her slit, playing with her opening but not delving in like she wants me to.
“Nate,” she says again, a plea. “Stop torturing me. I need you.”
I take her by the hips and spin her around to face the wall, then guide her wrists above her head, planting her palms against the concrete.
I pull my shirt and sweater over my head so I can feel her skin against mine, then I lean forward, my chest against her back, my dick resting between her ass cheeks.
She pushes back into me, rocking her hips sensually, letting me know what she wants.
Her long hair cascades down in waves, so I gather it together and wrap it around my fist before tugging her head backward lightly.
I lean my head down so my lips are next to her ear and with a low, steady voice, I tell her, “Don’t move unless I tell you to. ”
“What if I want to touch you?”
“Too fucking bad.”
She lets out a small groan of frustration, but stays with her legs spread, her hands above her head in front of her on the wall. She’s so fucking sexy, especially in this thong with three straps coming from the front to the back, held together by a ring.
“You want garage sex,” I tell her, “then we’re doing it my way.”
I reach around the front of her and pull the other side of her bralette cup down so both her breasts are exposed.
Even in the cold air, her body is burning up with desire.
Cupping her breasts in my hands, I sweep my thumbs across her nipples, and when she rocks her hips back into me, I meet her, thrusting my dick along her ass and lower back.
She sighs each time our hips meet. When I take her nipples, pinching each lightly between my thumb and forefinger, she goes to move her hand, saying “I need to touch myself if you’re not going to do it. ”
Both my hands fly to her wrists. “Like hell you do,” I say as I press my body up against hers.
I take her hands and slide them down the wall so she’s bent forward more, then go back to her nipples again.
She’s rubbing her ass against me so forcefully, thrusting her hips each time I roll the sweet peaks of her breasts between my fingers, that I know she’s ready.
I grab her hips, use my foot to spread her legs as far as the leggings around her calves will allow.
Then I reach my hand between her legs to pull that scrap of fabric masquerading as underwear aside, and dip two fingers into her to double-check that she’s ready for me.
She rides my fingers so hard I know I need to be inside her now.
With her legs barely spread, sliding into her is like sliding into the tightest, hottest space my dick has ever been.
I can tell she feels the difference in this angle and position too, because she moans as I stroke in and out of her, then groans my name loudly when I take my fingers, still covered in her juices, and swirl them around her clit.
“Holy shit,” she says on an exhale before pushing her ass further back into me, arching her back so she can take me even deeper. And that’s what does me in. That’s where I lose control, grabbing her hips and slamming her back onto my dick over and over.
The pressure builds quickly at the base of my spine, and raw need claws at me.
If Jackson’s soft grunts are any indication, she’s as close as I am, but I’m not risking finishing before her.
I take one hand and run my finger along her lips, which she parts as she sucks my finger inside, swirling her tongue around the tip.
Then I’m rubbing my finger over her swollen clit as she whispers “Oh, shit,” followed by “Yes” dragged out on an exhale.
I feel her tightening around me, the spasms gripping my dick as the waves of her orgasm roll through her.
I can only hold on for another second before I’m spilling everything I have inside her.
When I finish, I put one hand on the wall next to hers, and wrap my other arm around her waist, holding her to me.
We’re both catching our breath, neither of us eager to move.
“Holy crap,” I say when I can finally use words again.
She turns her head to mine where it rests on her shoulder and kisses my cheek. “That was . . . mind blowing.”
My rib cage rattles with the victorious laughter that bubbles up, and I can feel her smile like it’s radiating out of her body.
I pull back, running my hands along her sides, then I pull out of her and reach down for my T-shirt. I clean myself off and then clean her off before I pull her leggings back up her legs.
“You know,” she says, turning toward me after she’s tucked her breasts back into her bralette, “yesterday was the first time I’ve had good sex since you left.”
“I don’t want to think about you fucking anyone else, much less talk about it,” I tell her as I reach down to grab my sweater and jacket.
“Hey,” she says, reaching down to cup my chin and bringing me back up to face her. “I thought you were gone for good.” The pain in her voice makes me regret ever leaving, even though I know it was the right thing at the time. “If I’d had any idea you were coming back, I’d have waited for you.”