"Okay." His hands slide up, thumbs brushing the bare skin just above my shorts. "Can I take your tank top off?"
"Yes."
He lifts it over my head, slow and careful. The air hits my skin, and I shiver, exposed under his gaze.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I whisper.
"I can’t help it.” His voice is wrecked. “You’re beautiful.”
"Jackson—"
"I mean it." His hands are back at my waist, thumbs brushing my skin. "You've always been beautiful."
Tears blur my vision, and I don’t fight them. Instead, I let them fall while I kiss him again.
"Can I touch you here?" he murmurs, hands hovering near my breasts.
"God, yes."
His hands cup them, gentle and warm, thumbs brushing over my nipples, and I gasp at the sensation. It's good,so good, nothing like before, nothing like being held down and violated.
This is mine. My choice.My pleasure.
"Is this okay?" he asks.
"Yes."
He leans forward and takes my nipple in his mouth. The sensation shoots straight through me, and my hands go to his hair, holding him there.
"More," I whisper. "Keep going."
He switches to the other breast, and I'm shaking but not from fear, from want, fromneed.
"Maya." He pulls back, breathing hard. "Do you want to keep going?"
"Please."
"Tell me what you need."
"I need to be on top."
"Okay." He shifts back on the bed. "However, you want this."
We move together, him lying back, me climbing over him. We're both still wearing bottoms, and it's too many layers.
"Can I take these off?" I gesture to his pajama pants.
"Whatever you need."
I hook my fingers in the waistband and pull them down along with his boxers. He lifts his hips to help.
His cock springs free, thick and hard and curving up toward his stomach.
"Is this okay?" he asks.
“Yes.” I reach out and wrap my hand around him. There’s a faint slickness at the tip, and when I run my thumb over it, spreading the wetness, he groans low in his throat.
"Fuck, Maya."
