5. Iris #2
“That could be anyone.” Jackson pulled into his driveway, and I realized with a jolt just how long I’d spent telling him about my encounter with Mom.
“I didn’t get a picture of him during the thirty seconds he was standing in front of me,” I said as I got out of the car.
Jackson sighed and came around to my side to grab my laptop out of the back seat. He was only a few inches from me, his grease-stained work shirt unbuttoned in deference to the summer heat, so only his thin white undershirt covered his thick chest. A little bit of hair peeked out at the top.
And he kept shooting me looks from under his lashes. Ones that weren’t strictly assessing my mood, or if I was hurt or not. There was a banked heat, an added urgency that hadn’t been there a few weeks ago.
Or maybe I just hadn’t noticed it.
“I know, I know,” he said, mouth a thin line. “I’ve been trying to find out where she’s holed up, but I’m not having much luck.”
“Really, it’s not your problem to solve—” I said the words on autopilot, even though part of me wanted to take two steps forward, lean my head on his shoulder, and thank him for caring.
“Bullshit it’s not. What would Travis say if I left you dangling?”
All those warm, fuzzy feelings vanished as if doused with cold water. “Of course it’s about Travis’s feelings. Not mine,” I snapped.
Jackson’s head jerked back. “I care about your feelings.” But I could see that he knew what I was getting at. The hint of fear that I’d make him talk about what had been brewing between us.
“Do you? And what about yours? Ever since I started staying with you, you’ve barely been able to keep your eyes to yourself. We almost kissed this morning!”
“I wasn’t…” He trailed off, probably because he knew what he was about to say was a lie. “That’s not important.”
“It’s important to me.” I stomped into the house.
“Hold up, Iris.”
“No,” I tossed over my shoulder. “I’m trying to be smart about this, but goddamn are you making it difficult.
Looking at me like you wanna kiss me one minute, then shoving reminders of my brother between us the next.
I’m a grown woman, and if you were willing to see past Travis, I think you’d have already realized that. ”
He was right behind me, crowding me through the hallway. “Of course I realize that. You think it’s been easy, having you in my house, in my bed, without being able to touch you?”
“Then touch me,” I flung over my shoulder. “We both want this.”
He stopped me with a hand on my wrist and gave me a long, searching look. “We shouldn’t.”
“What’s stopping us?” I touched his chest, wondering if his heart was pounding as hard as mine.
The second my fingers made contact, it was like a switch flipped inside Jackson. Between one blink and the next, I was against the wall, his heavy body pressing me into the hard drywall as his lips crushed mine.
It was glorious. Fifteen years of teenage fantasies bursting forth and coming to life, as if I hadn’t spent the last decade repressing them.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, and he groaned into my mouth, his tongue tangling with mine as his hands fumbled with the hem of my blouse. Calloused fingers brushed my bare skin, eliciting a gasp and leaving me desperate for more.
I shoved his work shirt off his shoulders, my hands flying to the hem of his undershirt as he tore at my top. Within seconds, we were both naked from the waist up, exposed to the cool air of his house.
He stared at my breasts, which were encased in a bra I’d chosen more for structural engineering than for looks, with lust burning in his eyes.
When I unhooked it, he made a helpless sound before lowering his head, one thick arm wrapping around my waist to hold me in place while he nipped and sucked at my breasts.
Thank god. I needed him to hold me up under the onslaught of his lips. The lust and pleasure shooting through my body, pooling at my core, was too much for my poor knees to take.
“You taste so fucking good, Iris.”
“We should have been doing this days ago.” I dug my fingers into his hair, urging him on.
I could have sworn he mumbled, “Years,” but the shape of the word was muffled by my tits.
Before I could process that mumbled word, his hands worked the button on my pants and shoved them down. I stepped out of them, leaving myself exposed to his greedy gaze. Everywhere his eyes touched, my skin felt so sensitive it might burst with need.
I knew I was looking right back at him with the same hunger—his barrel chest with a thick dusting of dark hair, the light definition under a layer of padding, all unleashed and focused on me.
Oh yeah, and the huge bulge in his pants, one that promised nothing but pleasure.
When he caught me looking, he said, “I’ve been trying not to take advantage, but my dick’s been hard for days, having you here.”
My lower belly clenched at those rough words.
He didn’t keep me waiting. He shoved his jeans down, and then those thick arms—strong and sturdy—grabbed me and pushed me against the wall, one hand gripping my thigh. At his gentle urging, I wrapped it around his waist.
And then his fingers were at my entrance, probing gently. “Already ready for me, sweetheart?”
“I’ve been ready for you.” I twisted my hips, wrapping my leg more securely around his waist, then leaned back against the wall, opening myself to him.
Jackson might be over six feet, but I was tall as well. With my height, we could line our bodies up easily.
He drew his fingers back and replaced them with the head of his cock, breaching my soaked entrance.
I wiggled my hips and gained an inch.
“Slow down, sweetheart. If we’re going to do this, I’ve got to make it last.” He briefly removed his hand from my thigh to give my ass a stinging slap that only made me want more, my pussy clenching on nothing, before he returned it to its former place.
I whined in the back of my throat, but in this, Jackson refused to be hurried. He entered me in slow, short strokes that had me clawing at his back and begging for more, doing anything I could to get him closer while he resolutely controlled the pace, sweat beading his brow.
When he was all the way inside me, his thick dick stretching my walls and filling me, I moaned in relief, as if I had been waiting for this moment my entire life.
Jackson adjusted his grip on my thigh, his other hand moving to my hip, then gave an experimental thrust that had my head lolling back.
“Is this what you needed? My dick, pounding at this sweet little pussy?” He thrust into me with more confidence, and all I could do was moan and hold on to him harder, with my leg around his waist, my arms around his neck, trying to anchor myself to him, to this moment.
His mouth descended on mine, until my awareness was nothing but him. His body pressing me to the wall, his lips on mine, his dick inside me. Soon, his pace was relentless, forcing little pants and mews from me with each thrust while the pleasure inside me wound tighter.
Then he pulled out of me completely. I clawed at the back of his neck, needing him back, certain he’d just taken away the most important thing in the world.
He stepped away. No more than half a step, but enough for me to feel cold. “Turn around,” he growled.
Oh, thank god. I moved at lightning speed to obey his order, bending forward at the waist and bracing myself against the wall.
He sank back into my waiting pussy, immediately hitting a spot deep inside me that had me keening and leaning against the wall to keep myself from collapsing.
Jackson’s hands weren’t making it easier to hold myself up. They were all over me. Squeezing my ass, my breasts, tweaking a nipple, all while he pounded into me, hitting that sweet spot every time, driving me out of my mind.
“Go on, take it.” One hand slipped down between my legs and insistently strummed my clit. “It’s been all I could do not to fuck you senseless, Iris.”
His hands on my clit, his dick inside me, and his hot, intense words all combined to push me over the edge of an intense orgasm. My whole body shook, my knees turning to jelly, as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me.
“Ah, fuck. Look at you. Coming so good for me.” He bit out the words as he drove into me roughly, his fingers strumming my clit with one hand, the other in a nearly bruising grip on my hips as he shook and shuddered and grunted through his own release.