But she should’ve trusted me. I would never let her fall. And when she lost her grip on the chair, I caught her. Sadly, it was before I felt my job had quite finished—she had two or three more orgasms in her yet—but she straddled my lap and wrapped her arms around my neck tightly, her breath still gasping.
“I can’t—I can’t take anymore. I can’t.”
“Shhh . . .” I stroked a hand over and down the back of her head, holding her just as tight until her breathing evened, and her grip loosened, and her heart slowed.
Exhaling a loud sigh, she pushed just far enough away from me so we could see each other, but she kept her seat, her eyes searching mine. “Jackson,” she whispered. “I—I don’t know how to ask this.”
I swallowed around a building thickness, saying nothing. Please don’t ask me to make love to you without a condom.
“Can I . . .” She shifted back a bit, and I had to grit my teeth at the feel of her body. She then reached down, her gaze on mine, and cupped me over my shorts.
I hissed, closing my eyes, my hips instinctively jutting forward. “Please, don’t.”
She removed her hand immediately. “I know you want to use a condom. And—yes. We should. For sex. Absolutely. But do you also use a condom for blow jobs?”
Oh. Damn.
I shook my head, forcing the words out. “No. Rae. I’ve never done that.”
Her sharp intake of breath had me opening my eyes. Hers were wide with shock. “What? Never? Never ever?”
“No.” I threaded my fingers into her long hair, pushing it away from her face. “No one ever offered.”
Her mouth wide open, a number of emotions flickered behind her eyes too fast for me to catalogue given how close we were and how great she felt in my arms.
Eventually, she said, “Oh, Jackson,” and pulled me into an even tighter hug than before. “I offered, if you remember. I put my queen right in your path during Vegas Chess. I wanted to. I wanted you.”
My jaw hurt from gritting my teeth so much. “I remember,” I said, not adding that I hadn’t trusted her then. I hadn’t trusted that she actually wanted to do it.
“Then why didn’t you take me up on it?” she asked.
If no one had offered before, not in all the years of my exploits, how could I trust that Raquel Ezra had actually wanted me in that way?
I shook my head, not wanting to explain something that seemed so obvious. My friends—my female friends—had always talked about blow jobs like they were a chore. Even my married female friends, like the act was a favor they did for their husbands on special occasions or to pacify them. They’d compared it to having a hairy, sour Twinkie in their mouth if the guy was soft, or a hairy, sour tree branch if the guy was hard.
Women had always wanted me to go down on them, and they’d often wanted sex. I’d never met a woman who wanted to give me, or presumably anyone else, a blow job.
“This isn’t a conversation I want to have right now.” I glanced at the horizon through the windshield. The sun had risen above the tree line, and that was good. The convenience store closest to the lake opened at 6:30 AM. I need to go.
“Fine.” She placed a kiss on my neck, sucking my skin into her mouth, her hands—both of them this time—lowering to the front of my shorts. “I don’t need to talk about it, if you don’t.”
I caught her wrists, losing my breath for a moment. “Whoa. Wait. I need to go get—”
“Later. I need you in my mouth, right now.”
I’m sure I made some sound, probably nonsense, and my hands released her wrists because my body demanded that I do so. Actually, it was my dick. Just my dick. My dick vetoed every other voice and crushed any doubt or dissention.
Shut the hell up and don’t ruin this for me, Jackson. You’ll thank me later.
She placed persistent kisses along my neck and jaw, biting at my chin as her hands reversed course and shoved my shirt up, her hands sliding over my chest and stomach. “You have an incredible body,” she said on a sigh. “I can’t wait to see and taste all of it. Stand up.”
In the next moment, she’d pulled my shirt completely off, and in the next, I stood before her. Kneeling, Rae leaned back as her gaze traced from my shoulders to my abdomen. She placed a biting kiss on the spot just above the waistband of my shorts while her fingers unbuttoned and then unzipped my fly.
My hands opened and closed at my sides, my breath catching in my lungs, and I didn’t—I didn’t know what to do. I felt like I should be doing something, somehow making this good for her.
What can I do to make this good for her?
“Relax,” she whispered, maybe reading my mind, slowly pulling my shorts down my legs and tugging my boxer briefs along with them. A bolt of panic closed my throat at the sight of her full lips so close to me.
What if she hates this but doesn’t feel like—
“Jackson.”
I blinked, telling my wild mind to concentrate, and I brought her back into focus. She gave me a soft smile, but her eyes were dark as midnight, hot and greedy. “Trust me. I want this. I cannot wait to have you inside my mouth.” Her gaze lowered, and she licked her lips. “You are so perfect.”
And then I was in her mouth and—
Sorry. That’s all I got.
I think I grabbed the steering wheel of the boat. . . maybe? And her hands came around, palming my backside to hold me still at some point. . . perhaps? But I do recall for certain that she moaned, and it was one of those good ones, not like she was in pain and not a fake-pleasure one. She may’ve been a world-class actress, but in this regard, I had some expertise.
What she was doing, it felt like heaven, like ecstasy, like incandescent perfection. It felt so amazing, it almost hurt. And I knew I was about to lose myself in her mouth if she didn’t stop. My eyes were shut tight. If I looked at her now, it would all be over. Another personal record for me, but this one was embarrassing.
“Rae—Rae, I’m—it’s—” My brain was full of nothing but profanities, and so I didn’t trust myself to speak. Instead, I reached for her to communicate the urgency of my crisis, wanting to take over rather than come in her mouth.
“I want you to,” she said, her hand replacing her tongue and giving me a rough pull. She bit one of my fingers playfully, and then brought me back inside the hot, wet paradise of her mouth.
I came.
I just—all over her—in her—and she—and I—and it happened. I opened my eyes, needing to see her face, to make sure she was still there with me. I watched as she wiped her mouth as she stood and retied the one side of the bikini string I’d pulled at her hip. She grinned like the sight of me tousled and spent satisfied some cavernous need within her.
Her hands came to my chest, and her attention followed, her palms moving along my breastbone, lower to my ribs. “I’ve wanted to see you like this for a very long time.” Her words sounded distracted, faraway. “I’ve had countless fantasies about it. You, naked. Me, dressed.”
That had me quirking an eyebrow. “I may be naked, but you’re not wearing much.”
She shrugged like this was no matter, her attention still transfixed to where her fingers touched. “I know we need to leave to get condoms, but could we—”