"Yes."
"Good girl." He dips his head to take my nipple in his mouth. "Is this okay?"
I nod quickly.
“Use your words, Maya,” he murmurs against me.
“Yes… yes, it’s okay,” I gasp.
He moves between my breasts slowly, his tongue and teeth dragging sparks across my skin. My hands tangle in his hair, holding him close as my hips shift toward him, catching the unmistakable hardness straining against his suit pants.
"I need more," I whisper.
"Tell me exactly what you need.”
"I need you inside me."
He pulls back, breathing hard, eyes searching mine. "I don’t have a condom on me."
"I'm on birth control. And I'm clean. Got tested after… after what happened."
"I'm clean too. We get tested regularly for the team." His hands grip my hips tighter. "Are you sure? Once we do thiswithout a condom, I don't know if I can go back. Don't know if I can stop feeling every inch of you."
"Then don't."
Something flares in his eyes, possession or want or both. He kisses me again, deeper this time, while his hands work at my sleep shorts. I lift my hips, and he slides them down along with my underwear.
I'm naked on Emma's kitchen counter at 4:00 in the morning while Jackson's still fully dressed. It should feel wrong. Instead, it feels powerful.
"Your turn," I say, reaching for his belt.
He helps me, shedding his suit jacket, unbuttoning his shirt. I run my hands over his chest. When I reach for his pants, he covers my hands with his.
"Are you sure about this?" he asks again. "We can stop anytime. Just say the word."
"I'm sure. Are you?"
"More than anything."
I undo his belt and zipper, push his pants and boxers down just enough to free him. He's hard and thick, and I wrap my hand around him, stroking slowly.
"Fuck, Maya." His head drops to my shoulder, hips jerking into my touch. "You're killing me."
"Good."
I guide him to my entrance, and we lock eyes as he pushes inside, both of us watching each other's reactions. The stretch is intense without the barrier of a condom, more intimate.
"Is this okay?" he asks, buried fully inside me. "Talk to me."
"Yes, it’s okay. Please move."
He moves slowly at first, easing me into the stretch. His grip on my hips steadies me against the counter, and each roll of his hips sends a tight, rising wave of pleasure curling low in my stomach.
"You feel so perfect like this," he murmurs against my neck. "So tight and wet. Tell me what you need."
"I need itharder."
He covers my mouth with his, swallowing my moan as he picks up the pace.
