The shower turns off. Jackson steps out, water dripping off his body, unselfconscious in his nakedness. I've seen him like this dozens of times, but it's different now. No sneaking, no hiding, just him and me, and permission to want each other.
He grabs a towel, wraps it low around his hips, and walks to me.
"Hi," he says.
"Hi."
"You okay? You look..." He touches my face. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong, everything's..." I swallow hard. "Everyone knows. Emma knows, Chase knows, your mom's going to know, and I don't have to hide anymore."
Understanding dawns in his eyes. "You're freaking out."
"A little."
"Good freaking out or bad freaking out?"
"Good. I think." I touch the pendant at my throat. "It's just strange, being allowed to want you."
His mouth crashes down on mine with bruising intensity. His tongue traces along my lips, coaxing them open, and when I part for him, he deepens the kiss. His hands fist in my hair, holding me exactly where he wants me. When he breaks away, we’re both panting.
“There was never a world where you weren’t allowed to want me.”
His fingers find the hem of my shirt. He raises an eyebrow, a silent question. I nod, and he pulls it up and over my head, tossing it to the wet floor. My bra follows, and then his mouth is on mine again, walking me backward until the cool wall hits my bare back.
“We have to be quiet,” I manage to gasp against his lips.
“Then you better try real fucking hard to keep it down, Stardust.”
He drops to his knees in front of me, his hands on my hips, holding me steady. He looks up, and the heat in his gaze makes my breath catch. “Can I?”
“God, yes.”
He makes quick work of my jeans, tugging them and my panties down in one swift motion. I step out of them, suddenly bare against the wall while he’s still on his knees, still looking at my pussy like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted to eat.
“So fucking pretty,” he murmurs, his breath warm on my skin.
He hooks one of my legs over his shoulder, spreading me open for him. There’s no pause, no teasing. He leans in without warning, his mouth finding my clit, his tongue moving in slow, deliberate strokes through my folds.
The sensation is so immediate, so intense, that my head thunks back against the wall.
Fuck.
His tongue flicks relentlessly against me, each stroke sending shocks of pleasure up my spine. My fingers tangle in his hair, holding him there as my hips jerk helplessly against his mouth. A low groan vibrates against my skin when I tug too hard, but he doesn’t pull away—if anything, he presses closer, his hands gripping my thighs to keep me open, his breath hot and ragged between my legs.
Then he slides a finger inside, then another, stretching me, curling just right until I can’t hold back.
“Jackson!” I cry out, slapping my hand over my mouth to stifle the sound.
I grip the wall, trying to steady myself, but he keeps going, reading my body like he’s always been able to. His free hand drifts up my stomach, over my ribs, and finds one of my breasts, his thumb tracing slow, demanding circles over my nipple, while the other remains buried inside.
The dual assault is too much. A sharp gasp escapes my throat as I bite down on my hand. He pulls back, his chin glistening, his eyes dark with lust.
“Don’t you dare hold back,” he commands. “I want to hear every fucking noise I pull out of you.”
Then his mouth is back on me, sucking my clit hard while his fingers thrust into me, hitting that perfect spot over and over. The orgasm coils tight and then snaps, exploding through me with a force that whites out my vision. I come with a strangled scream into my hand, my body convulsing around him, my thighs shaking violently. He doesn’t stop, milking the orgasm from me with his tongue until I’m a whimpering, shuddering mess.
He trails kisses up my inner thigh, over my hip, and across my stomach as he rises. His face glistens, his expression raw and spent. “Shower. Now.”
