24. JACKSON #2
My gaze flicks up, and I’m met with whiskey lit on fire. Flames of lust dance in those beautiful irises. Jump to me and lick over my skin, reach down inside me to a place that has been dim and dark for so long…and light me up.
“Hand at my base, bello. Stroke me in rhythm with that pretty mouth.”
I wrap my fingers around him, my hand easily gliding over him through the mess I’m making. It takes me a minute, but I fall into a smooth, seamless movement. He bites his lip, those bliss-black irises boring into me. He’s a vision, one wavering in and out of focus as my eyes water.
His fingers tighten. “You’re doing so good, Jackie.” His roughened whisper slips right into my soul, and I preen. “So hot, so tight. You were made for this, baby. Use that mouth like you were always meant to. Suck me.”
I tighten my mouth, cheeks hollowing on every drag back up. I want to be good for him. I want to be the best for him. My dick hangs heavy and throbbing between my legs, every sultry word sending hints of pleasure through me.
His thighs twitch and jerk against my shoulders. Like he’s holding back. Restraining himself.
“You love it, don’t you?” His gaze darts down before coming right back to mine. “Does having my dick down your throat get you hard, Jackson? What if I fucked your face? Does that make you ache with want?”
I moan, and my hands tighten—around his shaft, on his thigh. If I don’t, I’ll reach for myself, and this will all be over.
His fist clenches in my hair, stilling me. Then he slowly drags his cock out of me inch by inch. I whine and try to chase after it, but he doesn’t let me, holds me captive while he denies me. That glistening ruddy tip is right there.
Need.
It pulses in my cock.
Need.
Throbs in my groin.
Need.
I glance back up at him. Pleading for him to let me have it.
Those plush lips tilt up at the corners. “Can I fuck that pretty mouth, Jackie? Can I use you?”
A thrill shoots through me, and I nod.
“Words.” His tone is harsh. Brooks no argument. “Yes means yes, Jackson. Silence is not consent.”
“Yes. Please,” I beg.
His eyes flutter shut, and his features tighten. He lets out a shaky breath, then that glinting black gaze locks onto mine. He rubs his dick over my lips, and my tongue darts out.
He grins and shakes his head. “So impatient.” His smile fades. “If you need me to stop at any point, pinch my thigh. Understand?”
“Yes,” I say quickly. I learned my lesson. Always use words.
He pushes off the bed, and with a slowness that borders on torture, slips his cock back into my mouth. He hums. Drags himself back out just as slowly.
“How far can you take me, baby?”
He slides back in.
Pauses.
Pushes further.
My gut tightens, my body trying to gag even as I fight it.
Further.
I gag, and he groans. He does it again. Pulls out. Tests my limits.
I try my best, but I can’t stop myself from gagging. Tears leak down my cheeks, spit dripping out of the corners of my mouth. And he just stares at me like I’m the most amazing thing he’s ever seen.
“Look at you.” His words are scraped and raw, so much so that their roughness scratches over my skin. He grips my jaw and pets me with his thumb. “You want to be my good boy, don’t you? My big, desperate-to-please ballplayer.”
I half moan, half whine around him.
He slides deep again and holds. I struggle to breathe, but I focus on that thumb stroking me, and I manage.
“Beautiful.” The word is wrecked, just like those blown-apart irises staring down at me.
He pulls back, then snaps his hips forward in a shallow thrust. “Tighter,” he grunts.
I obey.
He picks up his pace. Fast, short snaps.
The flush on his cheeks deepens, and his hips stutter out of rhythm.
I hold that gaze, refuse to look away even as my vision continues to blur.
His grunts and strangled moans and the wicked wet sounds coming from my mouth surround us.
My blood simmers, heat coursing through my veins.
He grips each side of my jaw, eyes boring into mine as he fucks my face.
He’s in complete control of me. And completely out of control.
Animal.
He’s the sexiest, filthiest thing I’ve ever seen.
And then he’s gone.
He pulls from me, the pop echoing through the room, and his hand flies to his dick. His fist is a blur as it shuttles over himself, but his eyes are still locked on my face. Like my face is what’s going to bring him over the edge. Not my dick. Not my body.
Me.
Something swirls through my chest.
Then his head tips back, and I’m gifted with the prettiest sight.
His neck stretches taut and so fucking bitable.
A deep flush runs down it, down to his chest where his golden-brown skin glints with a sheen of sweat.
His dark curling chest hair taunts me; I want to bury my nose in those curls, rub myself over them like a cat.
I wish I could have him painted like this.
He’s so fucking gorgeous. Beauty like his deserves to be immortalized.
His thighs harden beneath my palms, stomach quivering, and then his throaty moan fills my ears. He erupts, but I almost miss it because his other hand is there, curling over his crown and catching his cum.
I frown. I was kind of hoping he’d come on me—
I’m yanked to my feet, and his mouth crashes down on mine at the same time his fist slides over my dick. A full-body shiver wracks my frame as hot, slick heat engulfs me. He jerks me tight and quick. The wet glide can only be described as heaven.
And that’s when it hits me. Ohmygod. That’s his cum. He’s jerking me off with his cum.
My muscles shake, my fingers bite into his waist, my tongue lashes his. All the while, the pressure builds. Unbearably. It builds.
And then it detonates.
Pleasure spirals through me, and I bury my face in Frankie’s neck, biting down as I convulse against him. It’s violent. Surge after surge of out-of-control bliss. I’m under siege.
He strokes me through it while I do the only thing I can: hang off him, hold on to him.
I collapse against him, and we fall back, his ass landing on his bed.
My knees shake, and I can’t remain standing, not even with him as support.
I fall to my knees and melt against his thighs.
Tremors still shake through me. He sifts his fingers through my hair, murmuring soothing words that I hear but don’t hear. But the tone alone is a balm.
That was… That was… I don’t have words. Wild. Beautiful.
“Incredible,” he whispers unsteadily. “That was incredible.”
I kiss his thigh in agreement. But even that word falls short.
I think every word falls short.