35. JACKSON
THIRTY-FIVE
JACKSON
My heart is laughing in my chest. Before I deepen our kiss, I step back and tug my shirt over my head, then I’m up against him again, heated skin meeting heated skin.
Much better.
I can’t even begin to put into words how light this man makes me feel.
He embodies light-hearted fun. It radiates from him and fills everyone in his vicinity.
Maybe that’s why I was so drawn to him from the start.
Well, I’d be lying to myself if I didn’t also admit it had to do with how beautiful he is. I saw him. And couldn’t look away.
The more I see, the more I can’t get enough. Sometimes, late at night when he’s sleeping in my arms, I get a little scared I won’t ever be able to look away.
That I don’t want to.
Our tongues roll, soft and unhurried. Everything in my chest spins, and for a minute, it’s like I’m in one of those twirling amusement park rides. Everything’s unsteady, but I’m more grounded than I’ve ever been in my life.
I could kiss this man all day, especially like this.
His hands slide up my biceps, giving a little squeeze before his arms come to rest over my shoulders.
His hands find a home in my hair, and I lean into the touch.
He chuckles but takes my hint and massages my scalp.
I groan into his mouth and melt into him.
Heaven. Everything about this man is heaven.
“My own little pet,” he whispers against my lips.
I grin. “Not sure anyone would consider me a little pet.”
He kisses down my jaw and certain parts of my anatomy go from firm to rock-solid. His teeth graze over my neck, and my muscles twitch.
“True,” he murmurs, then his tongue slips out in the lightest touch.
“I’ve always preferred big dogs.” He pulls back, and those brown eyes that always seem to carry a secret study me.
He slides a finger under my chin. “They’re intimidating at first glance, but they’re some of the sweetest breeds.
You, Jackie-boy, are like my very own Newfoundland. ”
His hands skate down to my chest, and his fingers flex into my pecs. “Powerful. Strong. Majestic.”
They move to my shoulders and softly squeeze my traps. “A working dog. Incredibly disciplined and athletic.”
“I suppose I do like chasing balls,” I whisper.
That gets me the sparkle I love to see in those dark eyes. We share a small smile, then his hands move up my neck. Cup my jaw.
“Yet, underneath all that muscle.” His fingers tighten. “Under all that power…they’re incredibly sweet-natured.”
Those gold-and-brown irises take hold of me. Reach inside and steal pieces of me. Pieces that will forever belong to him, even after this is over. A part of me will always belong to this man.
“My gentle giant,” he whispers.
I swallow hard and lean in to kiss him to hide whatever chokehold those words seem to have over me. I nuzzle his cheek. “I’ll be your good boy any day, Frankie,” I tease, hoping he can’t see what he’s doing to me.
“Eager to please. And…” He pushes me back and hops off the counter. He cups my erection, fingers petting me in a touch so light it’s almost excruciating. He leans forward, lips playing over my ear. “Responds well to positive reinforcement.”
He steps past me and walks toward the shower. He turns to face me, thumb dipping into the waistband of his underwear. And, fuck me, his underwear. They’re the tiniest boyshorts I’ve ever seen, and his asscheeks peek out the bottom.
And the lace. The. Fucking. Lace. It’s so thin, the material is practically transparent.
And the way his erection is straining against the fabric only makes it worse.
Or is it better? Both. I want to lick over the ridge of his crown.
Fuck. I want to lick over every inch of him. So many pretty inches. I swallow hard.
“You’re drooling, dolcezza.”
My attention snaps up to his face. His lips are curved, sly and knowing.
“I guess I really am part dog,” I say hoarsely.
He drops his underwear, and I forget how to breathe. He steps into the shower, and I stare at the empty spot he just vacated. I blink and blink…and blink.
His head, hair slicked back already, pops out from behind the glass. He whistles. “Come, Jackie-boy.”
I shake myself from my trance. This man makes me lose all sense. I drop my boxers along the way and hurry to him.
The second I enter the tiled shower, he steps up to me and wraps his arms around my neck.
He spins me and walks me backward until the spray from the shower hits my back.
I tilt my head and let the hot water wash over me.
His fingers weave into my hair again, and it takes me a second to register he’s working shampoo into my hair.
A sweet shea butter scent drifts over to me and settles in my lungs.
A sigh leaves me. Frankie, the smell of Frankie.
He found a brand of shower products that doesn’t bother my skin that he likes too.
“You’re too good to me,” I murmur, eyes still closed.
“Just giving my good boy a bath.” Laughter shakes his words, and my lips twitch.
And then an idea hits me. I step out of the spray, waterlogged hair dripping down my face and neck. I stare at Frankie and bite my lip.
He freezes. I grin.
Then I shake.
Frankie’s laughter ricochets around us. He lowers his hands from where he had lifted them to protect from my water-spray assault. “Goofball.”
My heart squeezes at the affection in the soft word. I step forward, slide my hands under the backs of his thighs, and lift him into my arms. He lets out a surprised squeak that my lips silence. I press him into the shower wall and kiss him hard. Time to show him how strong and powerful I can be.
I lean back and adjust him until our dicks slot together. I grind into him and catch his lips with mine again. “Why don’t you get us all washed up?” My skin tingles with anticipation, with how he’ll feel when we’re all slicked up with soap.
He reaches to the side, and my arms flex, fingers digging into his tight ass to keep him steady. He takes the bottle of bodywash, flips the cap, and drizzles it over us both…until we’re both so covered we’re dripping in it.
A laugh rumbles deep in my chest. “You do know, I still need to be able to hold on to you, right? With that much soap, you’re going to slip right through my fingers.”
“I have faith in you, love. Some of the catches you’ve made? I know that grip of yours is rock solid.”
My chest may or may not—okay, it definitely does—puff out. Because it’s true, once that ball lands in my glove, fuck if I’m letting it go anywhere.
Frankie starts rubbing the bodywash over my shoulders and chest. “There will be only one thing slipping through fingers,” he says, his hands moving down my abs to my—
They leave me, and he repeats the process on himself.
I glare at him, the little tease. His eyes just dance back at me, taunting.
“Or maybe two things.” He winks.
The suds he’s created on both of us drip down, and our hips slide against each other in a way that has my pulse skittering.
We’re both hard, and I want nothing more than to close the space between us and get the friction my body is screaming for.
But Frankie keeps lathering himself up, unrushed and acting oblivious to the torment building inside me. He knows exactly what he’s doing.
But…he’s underestimating my strength.
I slide my left palm to cup his asscheeks, and satisfaction ripples through me.
There’s something heady about the fact that I can practically palm his entire ass in one hand.
His hands still, and he cocks his head the tiniest bit.
I slide my other hand away, and his legs immediately tighten, arms flying around my neck.
“Nm-mm.” I shake my head. “Back against the wall.”
His arms loosen, but he doesn’t let go as he leans back again.
I scoop up some suds and coast my hand over his thigh, slow and encouraging. I lean forward and brush my lips over his. “Let go, Frank. Trust me. I’ve got you.”
He stills, and I’m not sure why, but then his arms fall away, and he gives in to me.
I smile reassuringly at him. “See, you’re light as a feather?” I bounce him lightly in my palm. “I bench at least double you.”
He rolls his eyes, but his dick jumping against my stomach gives him away for how hot he thinks that is.
“I should take insult to being called light as a feather. I work hard for this body, I hope you know.”
“I know you do.” I slide my hand up his torso and down his arm until I grip his wrist. I bring his hand to his chest, mine covering his. “It deserves to be worshipped, don’t you think?” I guide his hand over his pec, grazing his thumb over his nipple.
He bites his lip and nods slowly.
I slowly let go of his hand. “So worship it. Touch yourself.”
My hand falls to our dicks, curling my fingers around us. His legs tighten, but I don’t think it was from feeling like he’s falling this time.
His other hand joins the one on his chest, and he slides them lazily over his chest. His head falls back, eyes still on me. God, that neck, stretched back like that… I want to lean forward and kiss him, but it’ll have to wait. I’m enjoying the show too much—and my hand on our dicks.
His fingers skim feather-light over his pecs, and every time he passes over his nipples, his body gives a sexy little jerk. I’m loosely stroking us, just enough to maintain the wicked ache, but not enough to make it build.
“That’s it, babe,” I breathe. “I know how much you love your nipples being touched. Give them the attention they deserve.” I can’t look away from those swirling sudsy fingers.
A strangled groan rumbles from his throat. His fingers keep skimming just shy of his peaked nipples, his back arching as his body fights with his self-control. Teasing himself.
“God, they’re sexy.” My voice is husky, heated from the show he’s giving me. “Small dark discs that are perfect to suck on.”