Chapter 17 Rosalie
ROSALIE
“More.” Ridiculous as it is, this word is the only coherent plea I can manage while Jackson focuses all his energy—and his fingers and mouth—to lead me back to the edge of pleasure. Maybe I should be embarrassed, but I’m not.
I want to come again. I need that release. I need it all.
But I’m not the only one. Jackson’s just as desperate to get me there.
His thumb rubs my clit each time I press back, and his fingers move inside of me, beckoning my orgasm a little closer.
When his mouth makes contact with the curve of my ass, hot and wet, and moving toward a place where I haven’t had much experience, I cry out.
My first impulse is to move away, but the pleasure that builds from being completely at his mercy is so intense I find myself arching into his mouth.
His tongue runs along the seam, pressing against my sensitive opening, begging for entry. I imagine him working the head of his cock inside. Of my pussy being filled by one of my toys so his hands can spread my ass wide and hold my body steady as he fills my holes.
His steady stream of dirty talk has been replaced with slick sounds of my wetness and his ministrations.
The erotic sounds conjure more explicit images, filling my mind while his fingers fuck me deeper and his tongue rims my asshole.
He’s made this entire night about me and my pleasure—and I can’t tell whether it’s because he’s loosely following the script from the book I gave him or if he’s actually getting off on getting me there.
“I need you, Jackson, please.”
I want more. I want his cock.
His mouth and fingers retreat so quickly, I groan in disapproval. That’s the opposite of what I want. I’m tired of being teased. I’m tired of—
“Oh, fuck!”
In one swift thrust, he fills me. I groan as I adjust to the fullness.
“Fuck, Rosalie.” The growl of his voice is almost angry. He pulls out slowly, his hands gripping my hips, fingers digging into my skin. A second later his hips slam forward, filling me again. In and out, over and over again, he feeds me his cock until his thrusts gain a steady rhythm.
Jackson is well endowed. Not too big to hurt. Not too small that positions like this one are challenging. But at this angle, he feels even bigger. My hands reach for something to hold on to as he rails me from behind.
“Damn, honey. You look incredible like this.” One of his hands leaves my hip and rubs over the swell of my ass cheek. He slows his thrusts, pulling back until there’s only the tip, then torturing me by not pushing back inside. “You’re mine to fuck, aren’t you?”
“Please.” I hate to beg, but I’m so close again. I need him inside me. “Please, fuck me.”
“You want me to fill your sweet cunt?”
“Yes!” I arch back as I moan, but he doesn’t give me what I want. “Jackson, please. I’m so close.”
“You want me to give you what you want?” He spits, and I feel his saliva hit my asshole, dripping down to where our bodies are connected. “You want this, don’t you?”
“Please.” I’ve never begged for cock, but I can’t find it in myself to be embarrassed. He’s worked me over, brought me to the edge, and I want my release. I need it. I need him.
Before I can demand more, one of his fingers presses against my asshole. He drags it across his spit and presses, working the tip of his digit inside while pushing his cock back into my pussy. I gasp and tense. A little from pain. A little from shock. A lot from arousal.
“Is this okay?” He presses his finger further.
I close my eyes and breathe, allowing my body to relax and take him in, along with the foreign sensation of being filled this way. I nod my consent. I want him to keep going.
“Say it.” His demand is a low growl. “I need to hear you say it.”
“Finger my ass. Please.” I exhale on a moan as he gives in to my demands. “Fuck me and finger my ass.”
“God, yes.” His groan is as eager as mine. He pushes inside me.
I’m so full. So overwhelmed by pleasure. All the constraints and boundaries around how I thought sex could feel are being expanded by the man inside of me. The most primal of moans leaves my body as his hips thrust forward and his finger stretches my puckered hole.
He fucks me. Really fucks me. This time, there is no teasing. No breaks or time-outs. Our bodies slap together and we chase toward the peak of pleasure.
His finger is inside my ass, and deeper than anything has gone before.
It should be enough, but my body aches for more.
Face down, my ass up and legs spread, I imagine Jackson stretching me wider, adding another digit, and eventually replacing his finger and filling my back door with his hard length.
But when his hand on my hip reaches around to rub my clit, I lose all sense of the world.
Behind my eyelids, fireworks explode as my body spasms. Yes, yes, yes!
My insides pulse with my orgasm, and that’s all Jackson needs to join me.
A guttural moan fills my ears as he pulls out, coming right where his finger was a second ago.
The warmth of his seed coats my ass, sticky and erotic.
We’ve made a mess, but it’s the best kind.
Jackson collapses to the side of my body, rolling onto his back as he catches his breath. His eyelids flutter shut as a satisfied smile stretches across his gorgeous face.
I turn on my side to face him, and take this moment to study his features.
He’s so beautiful, with dark hair and long lashes that are just unfair.
With his strong jaw and cheekbones, he might have been a model.
But it’s the warmth of his smile that gets me.
It holds a joy that can’t be manufactured or earned, it just is, and it’s why it’s impossible to feel deflated in his presence.
Unlike other men I’ve been with.
My conversation from earlier today dances in my memory, threatening to steal this moment.
I frown. Beckett is the exact opposite of Jackson.
He’s ten years my senior, whereas this man is my junior.
He is refined and cultured, whereas this cowboy is adventurous and skilled.
Beckett is measured and calculating, while I can’t imagine Jackson even capable of being deceitful or shrewd.
Sex with my ex was never this good.
“Hey.”
Jackson turns to his side, resting his head on his arm and focusing his gaze on mine. He looks at me like there’s no place else he’d rather be. It’s unnerving, being the center of his attention, which is kind of ridiculous considering what we just did.
“Hey.”
I force myself to hold eye contact. I will not be the first to look away. I will not allow myself to feel one ounce of shame.
“You’re incredible. You know that?”
“I am, aren’t I?” I quip back.
“You do realize this is my new wet dream. From now on, I’ll think of this every time I get myself off.”
“Every time?” I lift my brows in challenge. There’s no way. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Rosalie.” He scoots closer, and our bodies are once again flush with each other. He cups my jaw with the palm of his hand. “You rocked my world. Your body. Your dirty mind. Your sweet little—”
“Jackson!” I cut him off before he can finish that thought.
“Don’t go all shy on me now.” His mouth ghosts across mine. He kisses me, tender and sweet. Slowly, as if he has all the time in the world. As if nothing exists outside of this time and place.
And maybe I’m delusional, because I lean into that feeling. Pretending there are no consequences to what we’re doing. No repercussions to using each other to fulfill our sexual fantasies.
“So, you like my mind?” I smile when he pulls away.
“Dirty mind,” he corrects, dipping his head to capture my breast in his mouth. He sucks my nipple, his tongue brushing against the now hard peak.
“Dirty mind,” I relent in agreement.
“Dirty mind,” he repeats as he releases my nipple and moves toward the other. He presses kisses across my chest. “It’s one of the things about you I like most.”
He likes me? My body freezes at his words.
He can’t mean that.
Can he?
I force myself to breathe so he won’t sense my inner panic and stop what he’s doing. I’m overreacting. I know I am. He said like, not love. Besides, Jackson Wilder isn’t going to fall in love—not with me.
Get over yourself, Rosalie.
Jackson stops kissing my body. He pushes up on one elbow and studies me.
“Hey, what happened? Where’d you go?”
“What?” I play off his concern. There’s no way in hell I’m about to tell him my thoughts. I sit up and glance around.
“Rosalie?” Jackson’s brows furrow. “Is everything okay?”
“It’s fine.” My reply comes out more defensively than I intend. I move off the hay bales to retrieve my clothes.
“Whoa.” Jackson’s brows rise as he sits up. His gaze is searching as he follows my movements across the room. “Is it something I did? Something you didn’t like? You can tell me.”
“So, this may come as a shock.” I force myself to laugh, but I feel no joy. “But not everything is about you.”
There. I find my shirt. It’s wet and dirty, but I have semen leaking down my back. I’ll shower when I get back inside.
“What just happened here?” Jackson hops off the hay bales.
“What do you mean?”
I pull the wet clothing over my head and wiggle my body back into my shirt, praying my expression doesn’t betray the worry inside my head when our gazes meet.
“We were having a good time.” Jackson steps forward. “Weren’t we?”
“Yeah.” I can’t deny that. I won’t make him feel bad about what we did. This isn’t about that. It’s about what he said. It’s about my inability to let anyone get too close.
“But something switched.”
“Look, I don’t know what you want from me.
” I yank on my underwear and face him again.
“We fucked. It was fun. That’s it. I’m just not that into cuddling.
” The lie tastes bitter on my mouth as soon as it leaves my lips.
The truth is, everything about this felt too real—too good—and even now Jackson is looking at me as if he can see the chinks in my armor.
“We should get back inside while there’s a break in the rain. ” I nod toward the house.
I expect him to push back. Or to make me feel bad for abruptly ending our time on the hay. Instead, he nods, gathering up the rest of the wet clothes and shoes as if none of this is out of the ordinary.
“We should rescue Darcy, too.”
He flashes me a smile as he hands over one of my socks. It’s an olive branch. He’s ignoring my coldness. He’s letting me off the hook.
My chest tightens as guilt wedges its way into my heart. I shouldn’t push him away. He doesn’t deserve my mistreatment. Especially after doing all of this.
“Oh, shit!” Jackson’s eyes fly wide open and he turns to me. “I got so carried away, I never got to show you the audience.”
“Audience?” The change of topic has my brain scrambling to catch up.
“Rosalie, this is a sex club,” he deadpans. “What would a sex club be without voyeurs?” His eyes drift over my shoulder.
I turn and direct my gaze to follow his. That’s when I see them in the corner.
“Oh, my God.”
Rows of several figurines are lined up on an old wooden chest.
“Are those Legos? And dolls?” A giggle starts in the pit of my belly, but I hold it in. “Jackson. Why are there children’s toys staring at us?” He set these toys up. On purpose. Laughter bursts from my parted lips.
“Creative?” He cocks his head, staring at his work. “Or just creepy?”
“Definitely creepy. This looks more like a scene from a horror film!” My laughter provides such a release, and when he joins in, my insecurities and apprehensions lift off my shoulders.
There are tears in our eyes when we finally stop laughing.
“I’m kinda glad I didn’t point those out until now. That could have really ruined the moment?”
“I appreciate the levity.” I can’t help but grin over to him.
“And my original use of props?”
“I think we should leave the children’s toys out of any future escapades.”
“Future?” His smile brightens. “Does that mean we get to do this again? Will you tell me what to read next?”
“You want to read another book?”
“Yeah.” His nod is enthusiastic. “But maybe a shorter one? With all the sneaking off to read I’m doing, I’m bound to get caught. I’m not sure I can come up with a plausible explanation if Ryan catches me reading smut.”
“Smut?”
“My bad,” he amends sincerely. “Erotica.”
Why does he have to be so damn likable?
“Shall we?” He motions to the cabin.
I’m grateful it’s a short walk back, what with our current state of dress. Wet clothes aren’t easy to pull back on, and Jackson ignores them altogether, holding them in front of his body as he closes up the storage shed.
“I have a better idea. About the next book.” I should have suggested it sooner, but quite honestly, I didn’t expect him to follow through.
Or for this to be so much fun. We begin walking back to the house.
“Do you have a set of headphones? I’ll log you in to the library app and you can listen to an audiobook. ”
“Audiobook?” He stops short. “You mean this whole time I could’ve been listenin’ instead of readin’?”
“Oh.” I bite back my smile. “Yeah.”
“You play dirty, Rosalie.” Jackson stoops down to retrieve my sex toy from the mud. “And so does Mr. Darcy, apparently.”
“He can take a shower with me.” I pluck him from Jackson’s hand.
“Lucky bastard,” Jackson grumbles. When we reach the back porch, he turns toward me. “Now, what fantasy can we bring to life next?”
I purse my lips together and consider his question.
There’s no denying that Jackson and I have incredible chemistry.
As much as it makes me nervous, I trust him.
If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have let him into my world of romance novels.
I could answer honestly, but instead I decide to test him, just to see if there’s anything that might scare him away.
“How do you feel about aliens?”
He smiles. “Moving on to the extraterrestrial already? There’s no more human fucking you’d like to check off your list first?”
“Are you intimidated to compete with alien dick?”
“Should I be?”
“Yeah.” I sigh and think of one of my favorite book series.
“Fuck it.” He shrugs. “What do I need? Green body paint?”
“Blue, actually.”
His expression is so shocked.
I can’t help but laugh. “Unless you’re not into that.” I raise my brows in challenge.
“Darlin’, I’m down for whatever.” He opens the door, holding it for me. His words send a rush of delight through my body as I pass him. “Especially when it involves me eating your pussy.”
Oh. Well, in that case.