It’s a filthy ruining, and I want it, want it badly. I want to be pulled under.
My muscles quake, my thighs clench, and I am done.
I can’t even make words to signal an orgasm is on its way. But I don’t think Jackson cares. He’s working me over as I groan and grunt and come so damn hard in his hand.
I’m panting as he eases out his fingers, wipes my come off on the cloth, then climbs over me, pinning his big hands on either side of my face.
His lips crash down on mine, his body covering me.
Electricity crackles through my veins from the unexpected crush of his big frame. From the weight of him. His hard-on presses into my stomach, and I push up against it.
I raise my hands to his face, clutch his cheeks, and drag that sexy mouth closer to mine. I lose my mind in his kisses, in his scent, that cedar smell that drives me crazy.
I rock up against him, my shaft hardening again. He breaks the kiss, laughing. “Really, Stone?”
“Shhh. It’s my greatest secret. I can usually come twice in the first fifteen minutes.”
Jackson arches a brow. “Let’s test that theory.”
He pushes down against me, and I slide my hands along his sides, around to his ass, and grab him.
My bodyguard’s ass is sheer muscle—hard and firm.
I jerk him closer, then I kiss him, spearing my tongue in his mouth, nipping his lips.
Slowly, like he’s keenly aware of the sixty pounds or so he has on me—bring it on, J, because two hundred fifty pounds of muscled man will feel so good—he lowers himself closer to me.
An electrical charge zaps my body, and it’s incredible. I pull away from his mouth so I can groan. So I can moan. So I can let him know how good this feels when he’s on me like this.
Because . . . the contact. Dear God, the contact with him is insanely arousing.
“Yes,” I murmur. “Don’t move an inch away from me.”
“How about closer though? You want that?” It comes out as a tease. A taunt.
Like he knows what his body can do to a man.
It can drive a man crazy.
Can make a man hard.
Can make this man want more.
I want everything. I want it all.
He has me writhing and begging, something I’m not afraid to do. “Bring. It. On.”
“You want to feel all of me? You can handle it?” His whispered questions drift into my ear like a filthy invitation.
“I can handle you, J,” I say, sliding my hands up and down his back, over his ass, and up again. “I can definitely handle you rubbing this body against me. Oh, yes, I can, and I want to.”
“Give me room, then. Get those legs around me,” he says, and my skin tingles everywhere at his commands.
I do as he says, spreading my legs so I can wrap them around his hips. I grind up against him, fully hard again, my dick rubbing right next to his gorgeous cock.
“Mmm. Yesssss,” he murmurs, and he sounds like he’s melting, and that only makes me want more of him.
I don’t have to ask, though, because he gives it to me.
He drops his face to my neck, his arms roping around my head, his body pressed fully to mine. He’s no longer braced on his hands. Instead, we’re chest to chest, cock to cock, and I don’t want him to leave.
The weight of him is intense, and if we can’t fuck, I need to get as close to screwing as possible. As close to this sexy-ass man as I can.
I rub my cock next to his, and it’s incredible, the contact, the friction. His shaft is so hard and thick against mine, and I am ready—100 percent ready and then some.
Jackson’s breath comes hard near my ear, and maybe he’s close, maybe he won’t last long.
I don’t care. I’ll take whatever he has to give.
As my hands trail up his muscled back, I whisper, “Don’t wait for me, J. Come whenever you want.”
“I’m good,” he murmurs, then raises his face, bites my earlobe, and tells me a second time, “I’m so damn good right now.”
A tremble rushes through my whole being at those words.
Then, at the feel of him dry humping me.
At the feel of what it would be like if we were fucking. He thrusts and rocks, and I push and grind, and lust barrels through me, a delicious, agonizing sensation.
His hands curl around my head.
Those big hands.
I shudder as I picture what he can do with them.
I already know how his fingers feel in me. I know how his palm feels on my length.
I want his big hand between us. “Jerk us off like this. I want your hand on our cocks.”
He lifts his face, his grin so naughty and sexy.
He moves off me, and I nearly whimper from the lack of contact, but he grabs the lube, pours some into his palm, and then brings me next to him so we’re side by side.
He slides up against me again, one strong thigh draping over mine as he reaches down and takes our cocks in his slick hand.
This is all my wet dreams ever. A man like him. Pushing against me. Rubbing against me. One arm wrapped around my shoulder, keeping me close. The other hand gripping our dicks.
Shuttling up and down.
He goes full throttle, his big hand a blur, jerking us fast and furiously.
He’s panting and grunting.
I’m groaning and cursing.
Wild sensations rush through me, and it’s like a tornado of erotic bliss. And soon, the pleasure torches my body. “Gonna come again,” I rasp out.
“Come for me,” he grunts.
But it’s more like come with me.
Because we both detonate, coming hard, furiously.
Together.
Into his hand, onto his chest, onto my chest. Everywhere. God, it feels like it’s everywhere.
Or maybe it’s only everywhere when he lets go of our dicks, jerks my body against his, and smears our releases together on our stomachs in a filthy mix of him and me, and sweat and heat.
He collapses onto his back, pulls me on top of him, and kisses the breath out of me.
I half want him to stay the night.
But I know he won’t.
And I’m fine with that. I swear, I’m fine with that.
So fine that I tell him, “Tomorrow we go back to the way it was.”
And he agrees instantly. “We do. Like it never happened.”
He rises, gets out of bed, and cleans up.
I go to the other bathroom and do the same, returning first to the bed, flopping down. I’m spent. Officially spent. A minute later, he’s hunting for his clothes. He pulls them on, then he glances at the time. It’s close to two. His shift ended a while ago.
“Cruz will probably be outside your room by now.”
I wink. “Just tell him we were having pizza.”
He rolls his eyes. “Good pizza, Stone.”
“It was great pizza.”
Thirty seconds later, he leaves.
And I tell myself I didn’t want him to spend the night, no matter how good the pizza was.
14
Stone
Ever try not to think of someone naked?
Let me rephrase.
Ever try not to think of the stunning, gorgeous god of a man naked that you’ve already seen naked?
If I thought a month of monking was hard, that’s nothing compared to the Olympian task in front of me as we begin the two-week prep for the show: don’t imagine Jackson Pearce naked every time I see him.