12. Jackson
JACKSON
The door shuts, and I am on Stone. Grabbing him. Pushing him. Manhandling him.
He’s up against the wall, and I slam my pelvis against his, grinding and pressing.
We’re both ready again after waiting at the VIP check-in, and waiting in the elevator, and waiting during the walk down the hall.
I am ravenous, and I’ve barely begun having him again.
We kiss furiously, hands ripping at shirts, fingers tearing at buckles. Breaking the kiss, I tug his T-shirt over his head, and then blink at the sight. I’ve seen him shirtless often, but never like this. Never for me.
I drag my hands up and down his hard body, over his strong arms, tracing the swirls of ink that travel over his muscles, then the stars that trail over his abs.
“Mmm. I want to lick all your tats,” I murmur.
Stone wiggles his brows. “I won’t stop you. Especially when you see the one on my ass.”
I tremble. Everywhere. “Shut up. You tease.”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
I grab his jeans, tugging at the waistband, yanking him away from the wall. “Need you in bed. Need to see you all hot and bothered for me.”
“Consider it done,” he says, slinking out of my grip and sauntering over to the king-size bed.
Sauntering being the operative word. Stone knows how to work a room, work a crowd, work millions.
And he knows how to work me.
When he reaches the bed, he turns around, kicks off his shoes, and undoes the snap on his jeans, then the zipper.
My breath goes harsh with anticipation.
With the thrill of him undressing for me.
With the sheer wrongness of my employer taking off his clothes for me after midnight in a seductive striptease.
The wrongness of my own give-no-fucks attitude right now, especially when he pushes the jeans down over his hips.
I’m nothing but red-hot lust as I stalk closer, stopping a few feet away to take in the Stone show.
He works me into a frenzy as he slides the jeans down and finally his cock springs free.
Mine thumps hard in my pants, just aches as I stare at him.
At how hard he is. How thick he is. How much he wants me.
He pushes his jeans all the way down, his boxer-briefs too, then kicks them off. He grips his cock, rough and savage, his fist curling around his length, running down, then back up, showing me what he has in store for me.
My throat is dry. My pulse pounds mercilessly everywhere inside me.
And I have to have him.
“Get on the bed. Lie down. Let me look at you,” I command.
With a naughty grin, he spreads his arms out wide like a badass rebel angel and flops onto the mattress like that.
He scoots up, sinking into the pillows, then eyes me up and down, his green irises salacious. “Why are you dressed? Get your clothes off, man. Get them off now.”
“Maybe I like it when you’re the only one naked,” I say, toeing off my shoes and climbing on the bed, crawling over him.
His hands slide up my chest, grabbing at my half-open shirt. “Get. Naked. Now.”
“Patience, Stone. Patience.”
“Screw you with your patience. You already came.”
“Aww. Someone horny?”
“Yes. Do something about it.”
“I will. Just you wait.” I lower my hand to his shaft, grip it, and stroke it. “I told you I’d make you come. More than once. But first things first,” I murmur, sliding my hand along his length as my dick throbs, wanting to be set free.
He juts up his hips, thrusting into my palm. “What are these first things?”
“One. Show me your ass tattoo. Two, where is your lube?”
I let go of his dick as he flips to his front, showing me.
There, at the top of his right cheek, are three small musical notes.
Perfect.
Perfect for him.
Irresistible to me.
I dip my face, swipe my tongue over the ink, then bite him.
“Ahhh,” he moans, writhing against the bed.
And for that, I reward him with another bite—because he tastes so damn good.
But I will get distracted from my endurance mission if I nibble on the notes, if I bite them again like I want to. I could spend all night worshipping Stone’s ass.
I flip him back over, then move off the bed. “Now, lube. Where do you keep it?”
His lips twitch in a grin. “Bathroom.”
I jerk my chin up, questioning. “You just checked in. I’ve been with you the whole time.”
He shrugs, a dirty smile on his face. “Standing order the hotel has for me.”
I inhale sharply at the reminder that he’s a player. He might have handcuffed himself for the last month, but the man is so notorious for his sex life that the hotel supplies him with lube.
This is only one night. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.
I turn the corner, head into the bathroom, and grab a washcloth and the bottle. Top shelf, of course. No surprise.
When I return to the bedroom, Stone is stretched out, his dick in his hand, lazily stroking. It’s a hot-as-Hades image, all right.
He lifts his chin at me. “How about you show me what’s under those clothes?”
I toss the lube onto the bed, along with the cloth. “How about you let me set the rules?”
He rolls his eyes, then strokes up, his hand sliding over the head, pressing hard on the crown.
Turning me on even more.
I stand at the end of the bed and unbutton my shirt the rest of the way. When I reach the last button, he slows his pace, lets go of his dick, and pushes up onto his elbows.
“J,” he whispers as I undo my shirt and tug it off. He stares hungrily at me. “Look at you. My God, just fucking look at you.”
Pride suffuses me.
I’m well aware that size is part of the job. No one wants a small, thin bodyguard. Muscles, breadth, strength—those are basic requirements, and I have them all and then some.
But still, his shameless, heated gaze as he drinks in my body is such a rush.
And when I unzip my pants, push them down with my boxers, and drop them to the floor, the sound he makes is insane.
It’s a cross between a grunt and a roar.
“I feel like I just got in line at the amusement park. Like I have to be tall enough to ride this ride, and I am. And I am going to ride the fuck out of you.”
I laugh as I get on the bed, nudging his legs apart. “You’re not riding me tonight, Stone.”
And maybe not ever.
Wait, there’s no maybe . We are not having sex ever. We can’t. There is too much at stake. Too much to lose.
This is one time, just to get it out of our systems.
That is all.
Nothing more.
Tomorrow I go back to doing my job and only my job.
“But I’m still gonna think about riding you,” he says, returning to his ministrations to his dick. “I am definitely thinking about how that cock would feel inside me.” He lets out a shuddery breath. “Thinking about it right now.”
I burn as I watch him.
The need to touch him again overtakes me, and I grab the lube, flip it open, and move between his thighs. “Spread your legs.”
He widens, giving me more access to where I want to be. I drizzle the lube on my fingers, then all over my palm, and swat his hand away.
And I cross another line.
I’m vaulting over all of them tonight as I grip my boss’s thick shaft, curling my palm around it and taking over for him.
“Yes,” he murmurs, and it sounds like bliss.
And if he likes this, if he likes my hand on his dick, I can only imagine how much more he’ll like this .
With my other hand, I travel lower, tugging on his balls, pushing against his prostate, then making my way to where I want to be.
His ass.
I press a finger against him, and he lets loose an obscene “Holy fuck.”
It becomes a chorus when I push inside, and I’m the one shuddering now. I fucking love touching him like this. Because I know how it feels, what it does to a man, how it turns you into a babbling, lust-struck maniac, wanting nothing more than pleasure.
And I know what to do with my fingers.
I crook one inside him, hitting his P-spot and making him moan. He grunts, fucking up into my hand as I add more lube and work another finger inside him.
“Told you I’d take care of you,” I rasp out, loving the way he responds to every stroke of my hand on his cock, every thrust of my fingers in his ass.
“Oh yes, you did.”
My cock hangs heavy between my legs, and I know I’m leaking, but I don’t care. I want to be the one to give pleasure. Want to watch. Want to see someone else—see him —lose control. Lose his mind. Come utterly undone.
Judging from the way his features twist, from the anguished curve of his lips, from the blissful agony in his eyes, he’s on that path.
And I am determined to wring every last drop of ecstasy from him.
All this pleasure, all this bliss will have to be enough for me. It’ll have to carry me past tonight.