Page 17 of Final Drive

He doesn’t stop. Two fingers push inside me and curl, and my whole body jerks.

“Please.”

He pulls back just far enough to look up at me. “What do you need?”

“You.”

His eyes go dark. “You’ve got me.”

His mouth closes over me again, fingers moving inside me in the same rhythm, and whatever smart answer I might have had disappears. The pressure builds too fast, sharp enough that I try to pull away from it and can’t. Jackson follows every movement, holding me exactly where he wants me while my fingers knot in his hair.

I come with his name echoing off the tile, clenching around his fingers while he keeps his mouth on me and works me through it. By the time he finally eases off, my leg is shaking over his shoulder.

He presses a kiss to the inside of my thigh before he stands.

“You’re smug,” I tell him.

“No.”

“You are.”

He catches me around the waist when my knees threaten to prove his point. “Can you stand?”

“Fuck you.”

“That’s a no.”

He lifts me before I can argue, and my legs go around his waist. I feel him hard against my entrance and the humor leaves both of us.

“I need you,” he says into my throat.

“Then stop talking.”

He doesn’t need it said twice.

The first thrust punches the air out of my lungs. He fills me completely, stretching me right to the edge of too much, and my back arches away from the tile as he seats himself.

“Fuck.” The word comes out of him wrecked. “Reese.”

He holds still with his forehead against mine while we both breathe. I can feel him everywhere, and not only where he’s inside me. The bond runs his pleasure into mine until the edges blur, his relief hitting me at the same time mine hits him.

When he moves, he starts slow and deep. Every stroke drags against something that sends heat up my spine, and I put my nails into his shoulders because I need somewhere for it to go.

“Eyes on me.”

I open them and find his.

What’s in his face makes my throat close. There’s lust in it, plenty, but Jackson is terrible at hiding anger and almost impossibly good at hiding everything else. Right now he isn’t hiding anything.

I pull him down and kiss him.

His rhythm breaks for half a second before he comes back harder. The kiss turns messy, all teeth and tongue and shared breath, and his hips drive mine against the tile hard enough that I’ll probably feel it tomorrow.

“More,” I get out against his mouth. “I can take it.”

Jackson groans and gives me what I asked for.

The sound of us echoes off the tile. Water runs lukewarm over my shoulders while he fucks me harder, one hand braced under my ass and the other spread across my back. Every thrust drives him deep, and the bond turns the pleasure into something circular, his feeding mine and mine coming back through him.