Jackson
I never imagined I'd be sinking back into Rose for the first time in front of a crowd, but fuck if there's not a part of me that loves them watching.
They know her here. They want her. Half the people in this place probably have stories about her that I absolutely do not want to hear, and right now every single one of them gets to watch her choose me.
The second she comes, soaking me and the bed, I slide home while her core is pulsing around me from her orgasm.
"Fuckkkk."
The crowd is roaring behind us, yelling praise at both of us, but I don't look. Neither does she. I couldn't tell you what a single person out there is doing because Rose turns her head enough for me to catch her eyes, and that's pretty much the end of my awareness of anything beyond this bed.
"You feel so fucking good."
I rut into her again, and again, and again, until I'm nearly blind with it.
A year without her, ten years of wanting her, every fucked-up decision that somehow brought us right back here.
When I drag my nails down her back, her whole body reacts, and seconds later she's coming again.
That's enough to take me with her, and I bury my face against her neck while I ride it out.
Yeah. I'm going to need to get her out of here soon. I've shared enough.
When we've both finally stopped shaking, I ease out of her and dispose of the condom in the strategically placed bin beneath the bed. She thought of everything when she built this place.
Condom bin under the sex bed.
Very responsible.
Very Rose.
Then I turn my attention back to her. I release the cuffs one at a time and rub each wrist gently as soon as it's free, checking the skin before moving to the next. By the time I've got her completely free, she's boneless.
I slide one arm beneath her knees and the other behind her back, lifting her against my chest. The crowd is still making noise, although a decent portion of them seem to have moved on to enjoying their own partners.
Good. Show's over, motherfuckers.
"That was incredible," Rose mumbles, nuzzling into my neck.
She's wrecked. Completely fucking wrecked. And while I'm nowhere near finished reacquainting myself with this woman, I'm also not an idiot. She's had enough intensity for one night.
"You were incredible," I tell her, kissing the top of her head as I carry her off the stage.
My Domme.
I fucking love saying that in my head.
She's completely asleep in my arms by the time we make it back upstairs. Glory follows with our clothes and a basket she tells me is for aftercare, opens the door for us, sets everything inside, and disappears without another word.
I like Glory.
Susan could never.
I lay Rose carefully on the bed, and she doesn't even stir.
For a minute I just stand there looking at her, ridiculously proud of what she trusted me with tonight.
Not because I got her off in front of a crowd.
I mean, I'm definitely putting that accomplishment somewhere on my internal résumé, but that's not the part that has my heart feeling too full.
She gave me complete control.
I grab the cold towel from the basket and sit beside her. I ease her awake slowly, pressing it over her forehead, then her cheeks and the sides of her neck.
"I need you to drink some water, baby."
She's so groggy, it's adorable. She doesn't say a word, just lets me lift her head and bring the bottle to her lips. She drinks in slow little sips without opening her eyes, completely trusting my hand behind her head to do the steering.
Fuck, I love taking care of her.
Once she's had enough, I lower her back onto the pillow and pull the sheet over her. I still can't get over how much she's changed in a year. The white streak in her hair. The muscle she's put on. The little differences I keep discovering every time I touch her.
Still Rose, though.
Thank fuck for that.
***
“I can’t believe you own a fucking sex club, Rose.”
We’re in the back of the car on the way to my place, and Rose is straddling my lap, moving against me in a way that tells me there’s a very real possibility we won’t make it all the way home before one or both of us loses what little control we have left.
Today doesn't feel real. None of it. I'm sure it'll hit me tomorrow, probably all at once and at the least convenient possible moment, but right now my brain has given up trying to process anything beyond the woman in my lap.
I woke up this morning expecting to get married.
By this afternoon, I'd been left at the altar, except even that doesn't feel like the right way to describe what happened.
There was no devastation. No humiliation.
If anything, when Rian walked away, the first thing I felt was relief so immediate and overwhelming that I hated myself for it.
I should've been heartbroken.
Instead, I could fucking breathe.
The conversation afterward was a hell of a lot more amicable than I had any right to expect, and eventually I'm going to have to sit with what that says about the last year of my life. Not tonight. Tonight I have a much more pressing issue.
I pull back enough to look at Rose.
“You own a sex club.”
She laughs against my mouth. “We've established that.”
“No, I don't think you understand. You.” I gesture vaguely at all of her. “Own a fucking sex club.”
“Yes.”
“You're a lawyer.”
“Those things aren't mutually exclusive.”
“You wear pearls.”
She pulls back and stares at me. “What the fuck do pearls have to do with anything?”
“I don't know. They feel relevant.”
She giggles, and fuck, I've missed that sound. I've missed all of her. Even the shit that used to annoy me, which is probably a dangerous thing to admit this early into getting her back. Give it a week. I'm sure she'll have me reconsidering.
I slide my hands around her waist as she kisses her way up my neck, her body moving against mine in a slow rhythm that has my head falling back against the seat.
She takes immediate advantage, dragging her mouth over the exposed skin while my hands bunch in the fabric of her dress where it's ridden up her thighs.
"Baby, please."
I feel her smile against my throat. "Please what? You know how this works, Jackson. Use your words."
"I need you.”
A mechanical hum cuts through the fog in my head.
The privacy partition is rising.
Rose notices at the same time I do, and neither of us moves away. She pulls back just enough to watch the dark glass climb between us and Gerald, her lips brushing mine every time the car shifts beneath us.
"Oh my God."
I laugh, breathing hard. "I think he's politely telling us he's seen enough."
"I think he should mind his business."
"He's trying. That's what the glass is for."
The partition seals with a quiet click, and Rose looks at it for another second before turning back to me.
"Poor Gerald."
"Poor Gerald? I'm the one who's been waiting a year."
"Gerald has been dealing with me longer."
"Fair."
She kisses me again, and whatever joke I had lined up next disappears when her hands go to my belt. I lift my hips to help her free me. She wraps her fist around my cock and gives it one slow pull that makes my vision swim.
My hands settle at her waist as she moves closer, and when she checks in with me, her voice is softer.
"Still with me?"
"Barely." I grin against her mouth. "Green. Whatever you want, green."
She laughs and rises onto her knees. There's nothing under her dress, hasn't been since the club, but instead of moving any closer, she pauses. Her hands settle on my shoulders and her forehead comes down against mine.
"I want you bare," she says, and there's a little hitch in her voice that doesn't belong there. "I just need to feel you. Is that okay? We can grab protection if you'd prefer."
That tiny bit of nervousness bugs the shit out of me. Not because she asked. I love that she asked. But because this is Rose, and she's looking at me like there's any chance I'm going to hear what she wants and make her feel wrong for wanting it.
I slide my hand around the back of her neck and pull her closer. "I trust you, baby."
Her eyes search mine. "You're sure?"
"I'm sure." I kiss her once, slow enough that she can't mistake the answer for impatience.
Her eyes close for half a second, and when they open again, the nerves are gone. She kisses me, and the rest of the distance between us disappears.
When she sinks down onto me, taking me in one slow, merciless slide, the sound that punches out of me isn't a word in any language.
"Fuck. Rose."
"There he is." She settles fully, hips flush to mine. She stays still for a moment, her face buried in my neck, both of us breathing too hard for two people who aren't even moving yet.
Her hands slide into my hair and mine settle at her waist, and for once neither of us seems in a hurry.
It's different.
Not better than before. Not worse. Just different because there isn't anything between us now. No reason for either of us to pretend this isn't exactly where we want to be.
Rose lifts up and takes my face in both hands.
"Welcome home, baby."
After everything that's happened today, that's what nearly takes me out.
I turn my face and kiss her palm. "You have no idea how long I've been trying to get back here."
Her eyes fill, but she smiles through it. "I think I do."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
She kisses me again, and this time when she starts to move, I hold her tighter and let her set the pace.
She rides me in the rocking dark of the car, slow at first, then not slow at all, her palms braced against my chest while my hands stay full of her ass.
I tug the top of her dress down and her breasts spill free, and fuck, there's another sight I've missed.
I suck one peak between my lips until she whimpers.
"Jackson." My name breaks apart in her mouth.
I drag my lips along her jaw to her ear. "I've got you. Take what's yours."
The car turns, and Rose grabs my shoulders harder as the movement shifts her against me. A breathless laugh escapes her, immediately swallowed by a moan.
"Fuck."
I nearly lose my fucking mind at the sight of her above me. Dress shoved down, hair everywhere, tits directly in my face, both of us trying to compensate for Gerald navigating Los Angeles while we make several questionable decisions in his back seat.
Sorry, Gerald.
Not sorry enough to stop.
I grip Rose's hips and piston my hips upward as she opens her legs wider, finding an angle that has both of us making enough noise to justify the partition.
Every time the car moves beneath us, she adjusts without missing a beat, and I don't know whether to be impressed or concerned that we're getting this good at vehicular sex this quickly.
Then she braces her palms against the roof and takes control of the rhythm again.
Yeah.
Concern canceled.
Pressing against the roof somehow seats me even deeper inside her, and her tits bounce in my face with every thrust. Between that beautiful sight and the tight heat gripping my cock, it's fucking addictive. I find myself at the edge in minutes, fighting to hold off.
I bring my mouth to hers in a heated frenzy, our tongues clashing, mouths molding, as I thrust up into her hard and fast. There's nothing slow about it. We're both desperate for release, despite the night we've already had. Because of it.
"Jax, I'm so close."
I wrap one hand around her throat and slap the side of her breast with the other, and her pussy clamps down on me instantly.
"Good. Come on my cock, baby. Let me feel you." The growl rolls out of me as I squeeze a little harder, then release, driving into her brutally hard.
"OH G—"
I clamp my free hand over her mouth just in time, and her scream muffles against my palm as her entire body quakes, her pussy pulsing around me in waves that wreck whatever restraint I had left.
Two more thrusts and I'm gone, spilling into her with my face buried between her breasts, groaning her name into her skin while she shakes through the last of it above me.
She peels one palm off the ceiling and drags my hand from her mouth, lacing our fingers.
"Gerald definitely heard that," she pants.
"Gerald has a partition and a pension. He'll survive."