I stare at him, fire licking my veins. “Your dick is like a gift.”
“Then take your gift, Stone. Take it, use it, play with it,” he says, all smoky and seductive.
I rise up, drop down, and swallow his cock with my body.
I hiss, groaning as I adjust to his size, savoring the stretch, the pull, and the intense pressure of him all the way inside me.
Jackson fills me like I’ve never been filled before, and that wild sensation thrills me. Makes me harder, hornier.
I run a hand down my cock, sliding my thumb over the head, then bringing my arousal to his lips, painting his bottom lip with my pre-come.
“Mmmm. My favorite,” he murmurs, licking it off before he brushes his lips against mine, giving me a soft but hungry kiss.
A kiss that makes me shiver.
That turns me on even more.
I show him how much. I rise up on his dick then lower myself as I slide my hand back down my shaft, squeezing the base of my cock, bringing another drop to the crown.
His lips part, and I swear it’s like he’s begging for it. A harsh pant falls from his sexy mouth, and I give him another taste of me.
He sucks on my thumb like he’s reveling in the flavor, then he ropes his hand around my head, hauls me in for a hot kiss, and grabs my ass with his other hand.
His tongue strokes mine as he squeezes my flesh.
We kiss like that—hot, needy—and I take my time riding his shaft.
When our lips fall apart, he loops both hands around me, grabbing my ass, squeezing it as I move up and down on his cock. He lets me set the pace this time. This time, I want to. I want to top him from the bottom.
I ride Jackson, finding a slow and easy rhythm, a sensual, luxurious one, my cock slapping against his hard, flat belly.
With every roll of my hips, his breath comes harder.
His jaw clenches tighter.
His grip on me intensifies.
And in seconds, I’m a furnace. I am broiling from this—from the realization once again, the intense awareness of what’s happening.
That he’s fucking me.
He’s not fucking Stone Zenith. He’s not sleeping with a Grammy winner. He’s not banging the guy who sang to a packed house tonight.
He’s fucking the guy, not the name.
And I can’t hold back. “Man, you love fucking me, don’t you?”
Jackson growls, grabbing me harder. “So much . . .”
I’m scorching everywhere from him. From how he talks to me. From how much I love it, how much I need it.
I swivel my hips, clenching on his cock.
His eyes slam shut. “Oh yeah, that feels soooo good.”
I show him how good I can make him feel with the way I move. I demonstrate just how spectacular his first hookup can be. I want him to feel endless pleasure from me, with me, because of me. I rope my arms around his neck, rising up on his thick cock as I say, “I think you’re an ass man, Jackson Pearce.”
Opening his eyes, he nods savagely. “I am. And your ass is fantastic.”
I’ve got the key to his engine. And I’m going to keep cranking it. I thread my hands in his hair, working over his dick with my ass, with the way I ride him, how I take him. “Tell me everything you want to do to it. You want to smack it?”
He grunts, raises a hand, swats my cheek, and I groan. Hell, we both groan. “Do it again,” I command.
He raises his palm and smacks the other cheek, a sharp, hot swat.
The pain electrifies me. Makes me moan. “Yes. Fucking yes.”
Jackson lifts his hand again. Another swat. Another smack. And the world’s sexiest sounds fall from his lush lips.
Moans and murmurs like I’ve never heard.
I keep going, powering up and down on his cock. “You love fucking my ass. You love fingering my ass. I bet you want to bite it, nibble it, get your mouth all over it.”
He shakes, his big, strong body shuddering beneath me.
Yes. I’ve found his guilty pleasure.
“I do. I really fucking do,” he grits out, like he’s living in a dirty dream.
“I bet you want to taste me everywhere,” I say, teasing him.
The expression on his gorgeous face is exquisite agony. I am winding him up, working him over.
His lips part, but no sound comes out, except harsh pants. As words fail him, his actions speak loud and clear. He pumps up, thrusting harder and faster. His hand slides between us, gripping my cock ferociously.
“That’s it. Stroke it out for me, J. Because I’m going to come so hard on you.”
“All over me,” he orders.
Like I’d do anything else.
Pleasure rips through my body, a wild promise of ecstasy, as he jerks me hard, fast, expertly.
Taking me to the edge.
And I’m almost there as my orgasm crests.
But before I fall, I leave him with one last filthy thought. “You can have me any way you want.”
“Yes,” he growls, like an animal, and I am done.
Pleasure barrels down my spine. Sparks sizzle over my skin. And a whirlwind of bliss drags me under.
I explode on his chest, my come covering his pecs.
Seconds later, he’s slamming me down on his hard cock, coming once more with one of the most feral groans I’ve ever heard.
And I love them. My God, do I ever love those noises. The endless pants, moans, and satisfied sighs.
And I love, too, the way he gentles after sex, how he rubs one big hand up my back. He’s rough and he’s tender at just the right times in just the right ways.
He runs his other hand down his chest, through my release, and brings it to his mouth, sucking it off each finger. It’s so ridiculously sexy, like everything about him.
“Let’s get cleaned up,” he whispers. “Take a shower with me, and we’ll get in bed.”
I showered a couple hours ago, but this man has gotten me pretty dirty, so I say yes.
A few minutes later, we’re under the hot stream of water, and I clean off his chest, washing away the remains of my orgasm.
He sighs contentedly as I run the soap over his strong pecs, then down through the grooves of his abs. He’s cut everywhere, firm everywhere, and I take my sweet time enjoying the feel of him as I lather up his arms, his shoulders, his back.
He gives me a soft smile, finishes up, then rinses off before he takes the soap, washing me all over, like he craves it.
Like he needs to take care of someone.
It’s part of who Jackson is—like how he brushed the hairs off my neck in the barbershop. Like how he asks about my life, my dad, my brother. How he always wants to make sure I’m good with what’s going on, whether it’s the position he wants to put me in, or the picture a fan wants to take.
But I see other caring sides of him too.
The way he values other people. Like his colleagues, Cruz and Terrence. How their respect matters to him. How he shows it to them in return.
How my opinion matters too. How he wants to keep an open mind with me, to listen if I do want to top him someday. I don’t know if the roles matter to me. I’m good with everything we do. But the fact that he’d be open to it says a ton about him.
I like his protective nature as well. How he watches out for me all the time. How he seems to crave that responsibility.
He looked out for us in the elevator too. Not wanting the world to see what’s just ours.
And yeah, part of me wants everyone to know I have it bad for him. But mostly I want to keep him all to myself, to live in this secret corner of my life where it’s just the two of us.