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How did we get back here?
Jackson pulls me to the center and releases me, my body landing with a thud against the wooden floor.
He takes a slow lap around the perimeter of the room, his eyes taking in all the things around us. He focuses back on me, his gaze starting at my face then trailing down my body until stopping between my legs.
“Look how wet you are, Blair. You look fucking delicious.” The words seep out of his mouth and wrap around me. “Such a needy little whore.”
I sit up and wrap my arms around my knees, cradling myself.
“Don’t you dare hide your body from me,” Jackson grits out through clenched teeth. “Take your shirt off.”
I hesitate, not wanting to remove the very last stitch of clothing that remains on my body. He’s already taken everything else. I have nothing left.
“It wasn’t a request, Blair. Now.”
I slowly release my knees and grab the hem of my t-shirt. I pull it over my head, tossing it to the side. My instinct is to cover myself again with my arms, but I fight the urge.
He crosses the room and uses his boot to force my legs open. Air hits my exposed pussy and sends a shiver down my spine.
“Please, Jackson,” I whine, begging him. For what, I don’t know.
I hate that he’s right. I am acting like a needy little whore.
Why am I acting like this?
“Tsk-tsk-tsk,” he chides. “Tell me no, Blair. Tell me to stop. That you don’t want this.”
He takes a step back, admiring my naked body. His tongue glides over the edges of his teeth, and my skin pricks in anticipation.
I can’t do that. I do want this. Don’t I?
Isn’t this what you’ve been asking for all night?
He shakes his head, chuckling. “I want you to take me in your throat again.” His fingers expertly work at the belt and buttons on his jeans. “That show you put on when we were on the Ferris wheel isn’t one I’ll be able to forget any time soon.”
I sit up, eyes wide as he removes his hard length and fists it.
His steps toward me are slow, and when I can reach out and touch him I move to sit up on my knees.
Before I can even speak he slides himself into my mouth. He pushes deeper, not phased by my gags. I swirl my tongue around him, trying to focus on breathing out of my nose as he thrusts in and out.
His large hands grasp onto each side of my face, holding me firmly in place as he moves. My hands find the back of his thighs, needing something to grab onto. My nails dig into the thick material of his jeans and I wish they were gone. I want to feel his skin.
“Princess, I am going to coat your throat. I want you to swallow.” He grunts in between thrusts. “Every. Single. Drop.”
I know he’s close when he buries himself in me, my lips meeting the base.
His release fills my throat like an explosion and I struggle to keep it all down. I choke against him, but he doesn’t release me until he’s felt my throat bob against him.
He pulls out of me and I fall forward, barely catching myself before I hit the floor.
“Get up,” he demands, and I try.
His palm wraps around my wrist and yanks me upward, obviously not having the patience to wait for me to do it myself. He’s already hard again, though I’m not really sure how.
He shoves me toward the wall of mirrors, my body colliding with the glass. Shards shatter against the ground, and when he presses my face against it I wince.
Warm liquid drips from my cheek and I know it’s cut me.
