"I know, I know," I replied with a sigh. My fingers went to his short-sleeved uniform shirt, attacking the buttons as I groaned about my most talkative sales clerk. "Jane usually works a few weekend hours for me and was able to come in today because, you know, a million people came through the shop. Yosefina too but she's antisocial so that's good. But Jane wanted to talk about those million people and didn't realize I was trying to, uh, I mean—"
"Go home and get fucked?"
I stopped unbuttoning, flattened my hands on his hard chest, and looked up. "Yeah. Yes. That. She didn't understand that and I wasn't prepared to explain it to her."
"She didn't need an explanation. We're the only ones who need to know." Jackson reached for the tie at my waist, loosening it with one finger. When it fell away, he loosened the internal tie. My dress hung open, revealing my mismatched panties and bra. He ran his knuckles over the rise of my breasts and down my belly. "Annette," he rasped.
I went back to working his buttons and opening his trousers, my gaze steady on the barely covered wall of muscle in front of me. After everything we'd shared, this was the first time I was getting my hands on his naked skin. Anticipation hummed through my veins, electrifying every touch and breath.
"Mmhmm?"
"Am I allowed to touch your panties tonight?" he asked. "Because I want to. I want to twist them around my fist and rip them off."
I pushed his shirt over his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. A white cotton t-shirt separated me from his chest and I pushed it up, driven by my need to touch him. All of him.
"Annette," he prompted.
"What?" I murmured, busy tugging the t-shirt over his head. When it was free, I smoothed my hands up the hard ridges of his abs and across his chest. There was a dusting of golden hair there, barely dark enough to stand out against his skin. But I loved the feel of those coarse strands under my palms. "Oh, this is nice."
"All right, that's it," he said, bending down and hoisting me over his shoulder. He marched through my apartment and into the bedroom, yanking off my undies as he went. "Won't be needing these."
With more care than I expected from him right now, he set me on the bed and freed the dress from my shoulders.
Jackson pointed toward my bra as he kicked off his shoes, socks. "Get rid of that," he ordered.
He pushed his trousers down, stepped out of them. Only his boxers remained, and the huge erection stabbing at the fabric.
"Annette," he said, dragging my gaze away from his crotch. "The bra. Lose it."
He dropped his knee onto the bed and my legs fell open. I reached back to wrest open the clasp then flung my bra aside. I was naked and waiting, my most intimate places revealed to him. But it wasn't self-consciousness (hello, belly rolls) or doubt (what if I wasn't good in bed?) that sent a herd of buffalo stampeding through my stomach. It was that I knew I could love him and maybe I already did.
And wasn't that hysterical? After everything I'd experienced in the past couple of weeks and all my efforts to curtail my attraction to Jackson, I was carving out a spot for him in my heart. I already knew it was a deep, yawning cavern, a space he'd grow into over the years. Yep, it was absolutely hysterical because even as I went on making room for him, I didn't trust myself to give him the keys. It belonged to him but I couldn't let him take ownership.
Not yet. Not until I understood us better, knew it was real. I was the queen of mind games, after all. I'd carved out space for a man before. I'd handed him the keys, too. I wasn't going to be so giving this time. It wasn't like we were in any rush. Nope, no rush. We had all the time in the world.
"Jackson," I said, holding out my hand. The way he stared at me, I was amazed the bed wasn't on fire.
He shucked his boxers and crawled toward me, his cock heavy and hot as it bobbed between us. I reached for him, needing an anchor. "You feel so good," he murmured, thrusting into my fist. "You're stunning. Do you know that? Looking at you now, I can't believe how beautiful you are."
"It's not like this is the first time you're seeing me naked," I said, laughing.
"It is," he replied. "It's the first time I'm looking."
A breath shuddered out of me as Jackson pressed his lips to mine. It was a sweet kiss, slow and generous, but the need vibrating between us was enough to register on the Richter scale. He knew this, too, and pulled my hand from his cock.
"No more. No more, beautiful. I don't want to come on your belly. Not this time," he whispered against my jaw. "Let me get a condom."
"We don't have to," I said, wrapping my arms around his waist to keep him in place. "I've been tested and I have an IUD and if you wanted—"
"Fuck yes. Yes, I want," he roared, his fingers finding my clit. He circled me there, unhurried at first then quicker. Much more quickly. "I don't know what to do with you right now, Annie. I want everything. I want to lick you for hours. Suck on your nipples and fuck you with my fingers. Feed you my cock. Tease you and find out what you like. Flip you over, fuck you from behind while I grab that round ass of yours. Flip you back over, wrap your legs around my waist and fuck you slow. I want it all and I don't know where to start."
I canted my hips and locked my legs around him. "Let's start at the end of that list and see where it takes us."
Jackson took that recommendation and ran with it, sliding inside me with one magnificent drive. He stayed there, his body rigid and his breath coming in ragged pants. Then, after dropping his forehead to my shoulder, he started to move. His hips pumped in quick jabs, in and out, in and out. I dug my heels into his backside, urging him deeper. I wanted longer drags, harder thrusts.
"Like this?" he asked, pulling out and then grinding into me.
"Yes," I said, forcing that single word into thirty syllables. "You feel so good, Jackson. It'ssogood. I'm so full. Don't stop."
