Jackson #3
Kate trails my fingertips over the neatly trimmed hair and presses my middle finger to her clit. The silky creases of her pussy hug my fingertip, and if it weren’t for the fact that I jerked off in the shower less than an hour ago, merely touching her would make me come.
Moving our fingers in slow, meandering loops, she teaches me how she likes to be touched. Light pressure, small eights. Her hips lift to meet our hands, and I groan into her hair. It’s a fucking sin that I can’t see what she looks like, yet I can feel her. And she feels So. Fucking. Good.
Kate pulls our hands from her underwear, letting the elastic snap back into place.
I gulp, wondering if I’ve already done something wrong.
But Kate glides my hand up between her breasts, and suddenly she’s taking my middle and index fingers into her mouth.
Her cheeks hollow out with a hard suck that would bring me to my damn knees, if I wasn’t lying down.
I’m throbbing. Burning up. My cock’s stiff as a board, rubbing raw against the zipper of my jeans.
After my fingers are thoroughly soaked with her spit, she licks her lips. “Make me come, handsome.” Her voice is breathy and sexy as hell.
No fucking pressure.
Left to my own devices, I take my time. I stroke the velvet hair there, trace the edges of her pussy lips, stipple my fingers along the crease of her thighs. I explore the gorgeous woman in front of me, imagining how beautiful her pussy looks, considering it feels this damn good.
Once she’s writhing with need and whining small pleas to be touched, I find her clit again, circling with a featherlight pressure. After all, my only concern today is making sure she feels good. I’ll make damn sure we have time for everything else once she’s feeling better.
“Next time, I’m doing this with my tongue,” I murmur against the curve of her ear.
Fingers drifting across her pussy, I squint to make out her facial expressions in the dark. Switching up my technique, relying on the muscle memory I’d previously condemned, until she’s squirming and panting and squeezing her eyes shut. She whimpers, hands fisting the sheets on either side of her.
“Oh my fucking God.” Kate’s entire body tenses all at once, back bowing off the bed.
That’s the spot.
“You like that?” I ask with an arrogant smile and a self-satisfied lilt to my voice. “Let me hear you come. I need to know if the way I’ve been picturing you is a memory or my imagination.”
Kate kisses me—no, she devours me. Her teeth clash against my bottom lip, and she sucks it into her mouth.
Our tongues frantically explore one another in time with the steady rhythm of my fingers on her swollen, wet clit.
I lick the moan from Kate’s hot mouth, feeling it travel down to pulse in my cock.
Pressing her head into the pillows, Kate’s nails practically embed into the flesh on my forearm, and she bites down on her lip as an orgasm makes her twist in my arms. Every muscle contracting and relaxing in one fell swoop. And as my fingers slow to a gentle pet, she exhales through a sated smile.
Only a few memories have pebbled back into place since the accident, and I’m so fucking glad the honeyed sound of her coming undone hasn’t been a figment of my imagination.
My nose presses to her hair, and I kiss the skin behind her ear as she comes down. I run my wet finger along the seams of her panties to fix the crooked fabric, then settle my hand back over her lower stomach. “That’s a good girl. Feel better now?”
Kate’s head lists to the side, and her orgasm-glossed eyes meet mine. “So much better. Thank you.”
“Just doing my husbandly duties.” I’m floating somewhere above us, feeling a whole lot like I’m the one who came.
A small crease forms between her eyebrows. “Jackson, I hope you didn’t do that because you felt obligated.”
I was worried before that touching her would feel like touching somebody else’s wife.
But Kate Wells is all mine. I might never remember proposing, or marrying her, or what the honeymoon sex was like, but I remember every moment of the last couple months.
The soft words and softer touches, the love in her eyes when she looks at me, the way making her smile feels a lot like winning the best game at the carnival.
“God, no. That was purely selfish. I’ve wanted to touch you since the first time I saw you.
” I gently knead her soft stomach until her eyes close.
“I want to be a husband—your husband. You’re my wife.
I want to cuddle you while you cry and make you come so hard you forget why you were crying in the first place. ”
“I love you.” She exhales the words out like a pent-up breath.
And I consider saying it back to see if they feel as good coming off my tongue as the words husband and wife do.
“Don’t.” Kate cuts me off, clearly sensing the spiral. “Don’t say it until you really feel it. It’s okay. I don’t need to hear it, Jackson. I need you to stay with me.”
“I can do that.” I pull her closer. “I can do anything for you.”