Instead of responding to my pleas, he releases my hands and glides his tongue down my side, purposely avoiding my breasts. Making his way farther, I grow anxious as he continues across my stomach and then up my other side. I’m going fucking crazy! His strong arms keep me still and my body is tight, vibrating with need. When he makes his way back up to my ear, I’ve lost all control. I can’t take another second.
I’ve finally snapped. “I want you to fuck me. Right. Now.”
“I have all intentions of it, but first I’m going to drive you absolutely fucking crazy. Just like you do to me. This has just begun. The more you beg, the more I’ll make you wait.” The combination of his words and the timbre of his voice when he says them is too much. My muscles contract and deep-seated need courses its way through me, calling for him to take me and claim me.
He pushes up and puts the condom on, moving me higher on the bed. Lifting my leg, he pulls it to his mouth and makes his way down to my core. I lie there watching as he gets closer and closer, and my breath hitches as he avoids the one place I need him most. His tongue trails to the other leg and I groan and throw my head back. My breathing is erratic. I’m going out of my mind. We lock eyes as his tongue swipes up my center. My eyes close from the intense pleasure of finally being touched only to have him stop.
“I want you to watch me. If you look away, I’ll stop.” His low voice is fierce and commanding.
Keeping our eyes locked, he leans back down and licks my pussy again, stirring an involuntary shudder. I watch as he begins sucking and licking over and over again. I’m fighting the urge to close my eyes. If he stops, I might combust, so I keep my eyes trained on him. It’s the most erotic thing, watching him. He looks up as he inserts two fingers, pumping, and my body tenses. Every muscle is locking, ready to finally release, and my eyes slam shut. Immediately, I feel his loss. No!
“I told you keep your eyes on me.” I nod, unable to speak from being so close and then having it taken away.
Jackson wastes no time as he sucks on my clit. When I feel his teeth bite down, I’m gone. I shout his name over and over and writhe in a pleasure only he gives me. I splinter into a million pieces as he pumps his fingers, drawing out my orgasm until I finally settle and become coherent.
When I open my eyes he’s above me, waiting for me to come back to reality. I bite my lip as I feel the tip of his dick brush against my sensitive clit. I spread my legs and press the heels of my feet on his ass, pushing him into me. His jaw is tight and he seems to be fighting his own needs. I push again but he’s so much stronger than me, so he barely moves.
“Please, fuck me,” I beg softly.
“I’m not going to fuck you this time,” he says in a hushed tone. “I’m going to go slow.” He leans down and kisses me deeply, swirling his tongue with mine as I moan, begging for more. “I’m going to show you how sexy and irresistible you are, how you test my patience.” He nips at my ear and then runs his tongue over where he just bit. “Then I’m going to fuck you until you beg me to stop.”
I rub my hand against his rough cheek. Once his eyes meet mine I groan and say, “Then do it already.”
His eyes blaze as he slowly fills me, stretching me and then pulling out fully. He enters me again and my eyes are heavy-lidded as he stares through to my soul. With each thrust he’s tearing me apart and then putting me back together again.
Quickly, he flips our positions so I’m on top. I push against him, grinding down and enjoying the intense fullness while he holds my hips and sets the pace. I lean back, bringing him impossibly deeper. He rubs his thumb on my clit and I lose my breath as the force of my sudden orgasm rips me apart. My body takes over, riding him harder, and I hear Jackson groan as he orgasms, both of us riding out the bliss together.
Chapter Twenty
I’m spent.
Completely and totally useless.
I’m lying against his chest, still unable to catch my breath. He runs his fingers lightly against my back before shifting me to go clean up. I groan and stretch as my muscles loosen from the aftermath of our intense sex session. The tightness reminds me of the obstacle course and how much my body ached afterward. But this is the kind of physical workout I welcome.
Jackson returns and flops on his stomach, giving me a view of his perfect ass. He really is magnificent. I kind of want to pinch myself—surely this can’t be real. He turns his head toward me with a smile and I place my hand on his back. I’ve never gotten a good look at the art on his shoulder. It’s really remarkable, so intricate, and has so many different parts to it. In the center are the bones of a frog. Its body wraps around from the front of his shoulder and ends with the head facing down on his back. In the frog’s hands is the trident of Poseidon, only the three spears of the trident aren’t spears, they’re names. Brian, Fernando, and Devon are written in an elegant script and the number four serves as the handle. It’s surrounded by black tribal ink. My finger grazes the frog and the labyrinth of tribal markings around it. Below it is the most beautiful quote.
We have this hope as an anchor for our soul, firm and secure. – Hebrews 6:19
It’s profound and speaks to my heart. There’s meaning behind each word. Hope is something we all have, and it’s often the only thing we can grasp when our world is shattering. I hoped for my father to return. I hoped for Neil to be faithful. Neither of those things happened, but that hope is what kept me going every day.
Jackson rolls and faces me with sad eyes, so different from just moments ago. I reach up, placing my hand on his heart, and he pulls me in, close enough so I can see the front of the tattoo. “What does your tattoo mean?” I feel him tense.
“It’s the tattoo you get when you lose someone on the team,” he says matter-of-factly.
“Is that the loss you’ve mentioned?”
“Some,” he replies and laces his fingers with mine, holding our clasped hands between us.
I want to push him to tell me. I want him to share with me—more like I want him to want to tell me. I’m just not sure I should try to force it.
“Why a frog?” My curiosity gets the best of me. I don’t understand some of his world.
“SEALs are referred to as Frogmen.” He smiles and squeezes my hand gently. His eyes are warm and he continues on, “I got that tattoo to remember my three friends who died on a mission.”
My heart swells that he’s opening up, but aches for the pain of his loss. “I’m so sorry.”
He removes his hand from mine and wraps his arm around my middle. I scoot closer and return his hug, placing a small kiss on his chest. My mind begins to wander as the silence persists. Do I push again?
Jackson takes a deep breath and begins to speak. His voice is low, pain threading through his words. “It’s my fault.”
Pulling back, I look in his eyes. The agony there is evident. “What’s your fault?”
Jackson struggles to hide his emotions, but I watch each one play like a movie—sadness, anger, guilt, hatred—before his expression goes void. “Their deaths—I was in charge of the mission.”
“Jackson, I doubt that,” I say softly, hoping he’ll hear the disbelief in my voice.
He tugs me back against his chest. I’m not sure if he’s done talking or if he wants to hide from me. Giving him what he’s silently requesting, I wrap my arm around him and stay quiet.
Right as I’m starting to drift to sleep, feeling safe and content in his arms, I hear his deep voice. “When we were in Iraq, we got into some heavy firefight. I was in command of my team.” He pauses and runs his fingers up and down my spine methodically.
I look up and his eyes are closed tight as if he’s fighting an internal war. Every part of him is rigid and tense. I bring my hand to his face, brushing my thumb across his cheek. “Hey,” I whisper.