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This is the absolute farthest I’ve ever gone with a guy. He’s going to make me come. I can feel the orgasm looming, building with his every stroke. He increases his speed, pulling out to rub my clit, and I grab hold of him tightly, a frustrated cry falling from my lips.
I’m so close. Desperate to fall over that edge.
He kisses me. Softer this time. His fingers slow, the intensity lessening. I feel like I’m floating on a cloud, lost in the delicious sensation his fingers are drawing out of me. I’m so wet, I can hear them search my folds, gliding over me, and I lie there, solely focused on his fingers. My throbbing clit. His mouth on mine. His tongue.
The intensity slowly returns, but it’s somehow smoother. Not as frantic, but still consuming. My breathing increases with his every stroke, his thumb pressing against my clit and from out of nowhere, it hits me.
I’m coming.
My body is consumed with shivers, a soft cry falling from my lips that Jackson swallows. Time stops, but he never stops touching me, kissing me, and the orgasm feels as if it could go on forever. My heart feels as if it could beat right out of my chest and I arch my back, my hips lifting, seeking his fingers. Not ever wanting him to stop.
Until it’s over, and I’m practically begging him to stop. It’s too much. My skin is too sensitive. It’s literally throbbing in time with my heartbeat.
I can’t say anything. I’m too focused on calming my heart rate, my still rattled body. He shifts away from me, his hand still on my hip, his head dipping to draw my left nipple into his mouth. He sucks it deep, making me wince in pain. In pleasure. I rest my hand on his shoulder, gently pushing him away and he stops.
“You okay?” he murmurs against my temple as he drifts the back of his hand across my stomach.
I nuzzle against his bare chest, my mouth brushing against his hot skin as I speak. “Yeah.”
“Was it good for you?” I can hear the humor in his voice. I think he already knows the answer to my question.
“Yes,” I say.
He kisses me, so tenderly I almost want to cry. It’s like that orgasm brought all of my emotions to the surface, and I’m barely hanging on. Especially since I’m experiencing all of this with Jackson. It’s like a dream come true. “You should go to sleep. I bet you’re tired.”
“But what about you?” I try to look up at him, but he’s holding me too tight.
“I’m fine,” he says.
I can literally feel his erection between us. He is far from fine.
“Jackson…”
“Stop.” He kisses my forehead again. “Let me take care of you.”
I remain quiet as he crawls off the bed, watching him as he pulls back the comforter and sheet to tuck me beneath it. I see his unmistakable erection tenting the front of his shorts and I’m so tempted to touch it. Stroke him. See what he does.
I’m also afraid he’ll reject me, so I keep my hands to myself.
He pulls the covers up to my chin, smiling down at me before he kisses me on the lips. It’s chaste. Sweet. He smiles. Rises to his full height and grabs his T-shirt that is lying on the end of my bed, ready to slip it on.
“Are you leaving?” I ask incredulously.
He frowns. “You don’t want me to?”
I shake my head. That he even has to ask blows my mind.
“Stay for a little bit,” I whisper.
He drops his T-shirt where he found it and climbs into bed with me. Pulls me close. Holds me tight.
I fall asleep immediately.
Seventeen
Jackson
Shit.
