54. JACKSON #3
So he does. I take a second finger easily, and he slowly works me open.
He groans into my mouth as he skims lightly over my prostate, which has me bucking on his fingers.
“Fuck.” His forehead falls to mine. “I think you’re going to kill me.”
He continues stretching me, his thumb slipping up to press on my taint. My body jolts as white-hot pleasure streaks through me, there and gone so fast it’s like whiplash.
“I’m g-going to kill you?” I ask hoarsely. “Think it’s the other way around.”
I literally don’t know how much more of this I can take. There’s a messy puddle of precum on my stomach, my dick is such a violent shade of red I probably should be concerned, and if he puts too much pressure on my prostate, I will blow my load, and this will be over before it’s begun.
“Need. In. Now,” I grit as I do my best to keep the rolling pleasure from cresting.
He grabs the lube and squeezes more into his palm. He goes to spread it over his own swollen shaft—and freezes. “Shit. Condom. I don’t have a condom.”
“Oh my God!” I screech. “We don’t need a fucking condom. Just fuck me already, Frankie. There was no one before you, and there’s definitely not going to be anyone after you. There damn well better not be for you either. So. Fuck. Me. Now.”
He blinks at me. Then he props a hand on his hip and arches a brow. “Wow. Bossy bottom, Jackie.”
I bare my teeth and growl.
His lips curl, and he shoots me a wink, then adds a sexy little lip bite at the end. I swear to the baseball gods, I’m going to shove his dick in me at this point. He’s taking too long.
He coats his dick, his rich chuckle rumbling through the room, and I just glare at him. He presses his tip to my hole and rocks his hips. My nerve endings light up.
“Remember what we’ve talked about,” he murmurs. “Relax for me, baby.”
I press against him, and he sucks in a harsh breath.
He slips past the tight ring of muscles, and it does burn, but it’s a good burn.
I’m an athlete. I know what that satisfying stretch of muscles feels like.
I know the relief that comes after. I let out a breath, and bear down, will myself to go completely lax.
He slips farther in and slams his eyes shut. “Okay,” he says tightly. “I am not going to last long.”
He rocks his hips, slowly easing in. His tip brushes against my prostate, and I buck so hard against him, he sinks all the way home.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” His knuckles are white where his hands are latched onto my thighs.
My chest is heaving, and I am so damn full. I’ve never felt anything like it, and I don’t think I could even begin to describe it. It almost feels like a part of me was missing, that aching, lonely, empty part of me. And now I’ve found that missing piece. Frankie.
He tests out a tentative thrust.
And pleasure rockets through me.
“More.”
“Easy there, wild thing.”
“Come on, Frankie. I can take it. Please.”
He curses under his breath. “Okay, let me know how this is.”
He pulls almost all the way out, then drives into me hard. My back arches off the bed, my head tipping back on a silent moan.
“Again.”
“Fuck. You really are going to kill me,” he rasps.
He leans over me and thrusts hard. It doesn’t take long for us to find a rhythm.
My heels find the top of his ass and dig in.
His hands snake under my back to grip my shoulders.
He hovers over me, lips dragging over each other with every drive of his hips.
His fingers dig deep, biceps flexing as he uses my shoulders as leverage.
My entire body is on fire. Up in flames.
Pleasure is burning over my skin. He’s coasting over my prostate with every thrust, and the way he’s slamming into me is rewiring my brain.
I’ve never understood people talking about wanting to get pounded so hard it hurts, that they feel it for days.
But I get it now. It’s this mind-numbing pleasure-pain, and all my body keeps saying is more.
Harder.
Faster.
And then he does something that has my head exploding. He rolls his hips, and I swear to all that is holy he got that move from Dirty Dancing because what his hips are doing is pure sin. Every seductive thrust rubs my screaming dick against his stomach, puts a delicious pressure on my balls.
And it’s just too much. He’s too much. He’s so sexy. He’s so radiant: dark hair slicked to his forehead, cheeks crimson even beneath his tanned skin, eyes an obsidian black, glinting with a heady lust.
I don’t even have time to register it; I’m thrown right over the edge straight into bliss.
My orgasm lurches through me, stars dotting over my vision as my fingers dig into his lower back, desperately clutching him to me.
His rhythm stutters, and that seductive roll switches over to sharp, snapping thrusts. Then he stiffens in my arms.
I catch his low moan in my mouth. Drink it down. I want it all. Him. His pleasure.
I want all of him.
So I take him.
Hide him inside me.
In a place no one else will ever be able to reach.
Where he’s safe.
Where he’s mine.