Chapter Thirty-One #2
He reaches down to fist himself at the base, holding it straight and peering up at me with his dark eyes, which look almost glazed with lust. “Then come here. Sit on this cock.”
I shift closer, pressing up on my knees so I can hover over him, keeping my gaze locked on his as I slowly glide down over his length, letting him fill me inch by inch as both of us groan with pleasure.
It’s slow—slower than he’s ever taken me before—but I find I don’t mind it.
In fact, I might even love it. There’s something sweet about it, something life-affirming.
Knowing that this beautiful man wants me with all my flaws and all my hang-ups. That I matter to him.
“Always feel so good,” he murmurs, his hand finding the back of my neck to pull me down for another kiss. “So goddamned hot inside, Abby. I can’t take it.”
I want to tell him that he feels just as good, that the hot length of his cock without any barriers is the best thing I’ve ever felt, but my brain feels fuzzy around the edges. The pleasure of his mouth on mine while he fills me so completely is so much that I can barely think straight.
“Feels good,” I manage, the words caught by his tongue. “Mm. Need you to move.”
He squeezes my hip with his hand. “Might need your help here.”
“I can manage that,” I tell him.
I push up on my knees so that I can slide up and off his cock, lingering with just the head inside before slowly pushing back down.
Jack makes an almost pained sound as he stares down at where we’re joined, and when I do it again, he tilts his hips to meet me, thrusting back inside just as I start to come down.
The force of it makes me cry out, the head of his cock pressing deliciously against my inner walls and making me feel so full I can hardly stand it.
“Just like that, baby,” he says encouragingly. “You’re doing so good for me.”
I have to close my eyes at the onslaught of sensation when we find a rhythm—a slide before a sharp thrust that has my body tensing and my breath coming shorter.
Our foreheads touch and our lips hover against each other’s, and the intimacy of it is almost too much, just shy of overwhelming.
Part of me is terrified by it, wanting to tell him to pull my hair or slap my ass or anything else that might make it less sweet, less all-consuming—but that isn’t what this is.
This is Jack showing me how much he loves me.
It’s me answering how much I feel the same.
“I’m so close,” he says all too soon. “You feel too good. Touch yourself. I want to feel you come all over me.”
I snake my hand between us to rub circles into my throbbing clit, my back bowing at the sensation of it as sparks flit through me.
We keep our rhythm—that slow slide and that sharp thrust—and nothing has ever felt so good.
Nothing has ever felt so right. I know that whatever comes after this, it will be me and him, that we’ll face it together, and knowing that is almost as gratifying as the act itself.
“Fuck, I can feel you clenching,” he moans. “Are you close? Tell me you’re close. I can’t fucking take it, Abby. You feel”—he rolls his hips to hit particularly deep, making me cry out—“so good.”
And I can feel it building, that delicious pressure that comes from deep inside and blooms outward, one that has my head falling back and my mouth falling open, because it really is so damned good.
“Jack,” I groan, “I’m so close. Just keep doing that. Keep hitting that spot.”
“Yeah?” He thrusts harder, pulling me closer against him with his good hand. “Tell me you love me.”
“I love you.”
“Say my fucking name.”
“Jack.”
“Fuck, Abby, I love you. Fuck.”
I can’t tell who lets go first; my orgasm takes over me and leaves me a shaking mess just as I feel him twitch inside me, a warmth flooding me that only heightens my arousal.
Jack keeps thrusting through it, keeps hitting that spot that only prolongs my pleasure, and I can hear myself babbling, a cacophony of sounds that make no sense as I fall apart.
Jack buries his face in my neck as he unloads inside of me, a whispered chorus of mine mine mine chanted into my throat as his teeth and tongue chase the words that land there.
I wrap my arms around his neck to keep him as close as he possibly can be while we come down from it, both of us breathing hard and shaking in the aftermath.
He presses kiss after kiss against my throat until his cock finally stills, and I slump against him, feeling boneless and spent and more sated than I’ve ever been.
I hear him chuckle against my neck sometime after, and I pull back to look at him with still-hooded eyes. “What?”
“I don’t think either of our doctors would approve of this,” he says.
“Worth it,” I say with a laugh.
“Mm.” He pulls me in for a slow, sensual kiss that I feel down to my toes. “I agree.”
“I still can’t believe you told me to shut up when I was trying to tell you that I loved you.”
“I told you, I needed to be the one to say it first.”
I roll my eyes. “You are way too competitive.”
“And that’s news how?”
“This all feels surreal,” I admit.
“Did you think this was where we’d end up when you moved in?”
I scoff. “I can definitely say I had no idea. You?”
“Oh, I told you way back when. It’s all about the endgame, baby.”
“Sure. You totally knew.”
“Maybe a part of me hoped,” he hedges. “Maybe I just hadn’t realized it yet.”
I feel my expression soften, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I can’t believe I ever thought you were an asshole. You really are kind of a marshmallow.”
“Hey, that’s my line.”
“I am not a marshmallow.”
He makes a serious face. “No, of course not. Not big, strong Abby Thompson. She’s hard as a rock.”
“Don’t say things like that when you’re still inside me.”
“Mm, I’m hoping if I sit here long enough, I’ll be ready to go again.”
I shake my head as I lift off him, hearing his soft groan when he slips out of me. “You have to feed me first.”
“I knew you only loved me for my BFF nachos.”
“Can we really call them BFF nachos anymore?”
“You’re right,” he says seriously. “They’re definitely lover nachos now.”
“Oh, that’s infinitely worse.”
He adjusts his boxer briefs before helping me to the other side of the couch, reaching to grab for my underwear, walking back over to me, and using them to clean up the mess between my legs. I blush at the action, but Jack just gives me a wink.
“Fuel, then more fucking.”
I purse my lips as I look for my pants, needing new underwear now. “How romantic.”
“That’s just the sort of thing you can expect from me, baby.”
“I can’t wait,” I chuckle.
And oddly enough, I mean it, I find. Everything feels new and full of possibility, and it seems like, for once in my life, things have nowhere to go but up.
I watch Jack shuffle around in the kitchen in nothing but his boxer briefs, wondering to myself how I snagged this beautiful man with his too-big heart, coming up with no answers but grateful all the same.
He stops on the other side of the counter all of a sudden, turning back to me with determination in his gaze as he stomps back over to the couch.
“What is it?” I ask.
“I almost forgot.”
He reaches to press both of his hands to my cheeks, pulling me in close for one more slow kiss that has me melting into him, only pulling away when I feel dizzy with it.
“I love you,” he says softly, his lips only a breath away from mine.
My mouth curves into a smile, and I feel my chest swell with emotion. “I love you too.”
Another quick kiss against my lips, and then he’s striding back into the kitchen, like he didn’t just turn my world inside out. I wonder idly if I’ll ever get used to a love like Jack Baker’s.
He gives me a wink just before he starts to pull ingredients down, and I think to myself that no, there’s a good chance that I never will.
As it turns out…I’m perfectly okay with that.