“You look like you were made to sit there. Savoring the way my cock fits you.” He hooks his thumb into my mouth so I’ll suck on it, and I do. “You take everything I give you, beautiful.” He lets out a moan. “So ready to please.”
Without warning, he tugs my arm forward and my chest meets his. He wraps his arms around my back, fusing us together, holding on for what comes next. Then he begins to fuck me from below, hard and slow, bottoming out each time, hitting me so deep that words leave me, and my fingers dig into his shoulders.
“You’re so fucking perfect for me. Fuck, beautiful, I can’t hold back here.”
He grips me tighter and pulls his mouth to mine as his hips kick up faster, changing the pace and connection completely. The hypnotic motion just moments ago was a slow dance, a promise of what’s to come. A seduction. But now, as he drives into me urgently, that seduction was nothing more than an appetizer to this. He fucks me with abandon, holding my body tight to his, as the only part that is able to move is his cock, as it surges in and out. I have no choice but to hand over all control. We move together so beautifully, even the sounds of sweaty skin, and each other's moans are poetic. Turning me on even more, readying me to drop completely over the edge.
“Everly, fuck, I’m going to come, baby.” Jack shifts slightly. If I hadn’t known before, I know now he’s not satisfied unless I’m coming undone with him. He pushes deeper into me, still at a piston's pace, and I can feel the rush of my orgasm starting to take over my body once again. He tightens his grip around my body, pulling me flush with him, and the pressure is just enough that we explode around each other. I feel warmth flood me, as he swears and moans deep into my ear.
The way this man moans during his release is now one of my favorite sounds. It gives me such a high hearing him unravel and knowing that I’m responsible for it. As we pant into each other's skin, he loosens his grip. I have tears in my eyes because the gravity of that orgasm and the way he pushed my body were nothing short of incredible.
“Woman, you might have just ruined me,” Jack rasps out and laughs.
I can only smile. I wipe away the tears that start to spill over the corners of my eyes. The rest of my body can barely move. We lie quietly with one another for a few minutes, maybe longer, as time also doesn’t seem to register for me right now. So that’s what I’ve been missing. That’s what people write songs and books about. That level of lust and undeniable connection that can’t be articulated, only experienced.
I start to drift off, even though I can feel our orgasms dripping out of me. The responsible part of my brain is yelling loudly to get up and pee while figuring out a way to have a conversation with him about STD testing. We didn’t use a condom, and while I’m on birth control, that doesn't keep me safe from whatever decisions about sex Jack’s made before me. And even with that in mind, I still feel like heaven. I’m not cavalier about things like this, but I don’t want to hit the accountability wagon just yet.
I’m moved gently as Jack gets up, and I can only groan at the loss of his warm body that was surrounding me.
“Beautiful, turn over for me,” he whispers.
I roll over and groan, opening my eyes as a warm cloth startles me between my legs. I just laugh and sit up. “I can do that.”
“My mess. I will clean it up.” He smiles, thoroughly cleaning me with light movements. When he’s finished, he grabs the fluffy duvet from the floor and drags it up the bed as he lies next to me. I move toward him and drape myself over his chest, resting my head in the crook of his neck.
“We didn’t use a condom. I haven’t done that before. I’m usually much more aware of what I’m doing, but I lost all track of common sense for a few minutes there,” he says.
“Yeah, we kinda did, didn't we? I don’t have any lurking STDs, and I’m also on the pill.”
“A bit careless of us.” He rubs his hand behind his neck and looks back at me. “I never have this conversation, because I never don’t use condoms. Shit, that sounded…I don’t know how that sounded, but you don’t need to worry about me either. In case you were. Worrying, that is.”
I tilt my head to look at him. “I’m glad you said something. It was careless, but it felt so good not to care.”
It’s the most nervous he’s ever seemed. I respect his assertiveness, but it’s also a turn-on that he can be aggressive and in control and then tell me how he feels, even if it makes him vulnerable. Jack is not what I assumed or ever expected. And contently lying here in his arms, a place I rarely find myself comfortably with men, I don’t want to move. I could easily drift off, but I need to tell him how I’m feeling. I want to give him more of me than mixed signals and sex.I’m starting to fall for this man.
“Jack?” I whisper. His breathing has started to even out. While I was overthinking for the past few minutes, he managed to fall asleep. I kiss his chest and nuzzle back into him. What I have to say can wait, for now.
___________
“No!”
I’m jerked awake by a yell, and I move away as Jack shifts and twitches. “Please.” He grunts and moans.
“Jack.” I touch his shoulder and shake him slightly. He opens his eyes. “It’s only a dream, baby. You’re okay.”
He rolls to his back and rubs his eyes with the heels of his palms. Embarrassed or angry, I’m not sure what he’s feeling, but I need him to know it’s okay. “You can talk to me about it. It’s okay.”
“Did I hurt you?” He sits up, worried, searching my face.
“No, not at all. You just woke me up from yelling and moving. I’m fine.” He drops back to the bed and lets out a deep breath. I don't want to push it if it's something he’d rather not talk about. Since this is the second time this has happened, and after what he’s already told me, I know these are more than just nightmares. I rub his arm up and down to let him know it’s okay.
“I don’t sleep with people because of this. I’m never sure how aggressive I become, but I never want to put anyone in danger because I can’t control what’s going on in my mind.” He looks over at me. I can see that he’s deciding how much he wants to say. “I’m so fucking damaged, Everly.” He searches my eyes for a response, but I’m not about to agree with him. We all have things that make us feel that way, some worse than others, and in Jack’s case, his traumas don’t ever go away. “My therapist told me once that we hold on to the bad memories because those are the ones that affect us the most deeply, but the reality is, all of it was bad. There weren't any good memories. Other than my sister. And even then, every moment with her, I was anxious that I wouldn't be able to keep her safe. The first decade of my life, I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.” He takes a minute, and then shifts to face me. Sitting up, he drags a hand through his hair, rubbing his neck. “Are you sure you want to hear any of this?”
“I’ll listen to anything you want to tell me, Jack. And you don’t even have to do that if you don’t want to. I’ll just sit with you and let you work through it silently, if that’s what you’d prefer.” I hook my pointer finger with his and shift to hold his hand. “I don’t look at you or hear what you tell me and think you’re damaged. I just see someone who’s strong, a person who has worked hard to create a life he can respect, someone who protects who’s important to him. There’s nothing about that kind of person like that I would call damaged.”
He just smiles softly, and then I’m met with silence. I meant what I said; I don’t want him to share anything with me that he’s not willing, but I won’t let him tear himself down for things he can’t control. “There’s a lot to tell and I want to tell you, which isn’t something I ever feel like doing. With anyone. Even Kathryn and I rarely bring up life before we were adopted. I suppose for her, whatever she remembers is what I tell her. She was too young. I’m jealous of that, to be honest. I’ve done just about everything to forget it all, and most of the time, I do. Until I sleep. Memories find their way back to me when my guard is down.”
The room is bright. If I had to guess, it’s probably mid-afternoon by the way the warm colors of the sun hit my white bedroom walls. It’s the first time that I really search and study Jack’s face up close like this. The way his stubble surrounds his chin and cheeks. And then slopes above the bow of his upper lip. The lines that form between his eyebrows when he’s speaking about heavier things. The way his dark eyelashes blink away the emotion that threatens to spill from his ocean eyes. As I listen, I find myself getting lost in the details of how his mouth moves with certain words and the way his throat buoys when he chooses to stay silent.