I slip from the sofa and onto my knees, putting me right in front of Skyler, still seated on the coffee table. He spreads his legs wider, allowing me even closer, and I don’t hesitate to take the invitation.
And that’s when I feel Skyler’s erection pressing into my thigh. It’s hardly the first time I’ve felt him hard against me while we’ve been cuddling given his tendency to let his mind wander. but we’ve never cuddled likethisbefore… And it occurs to me that Skyler is experiencing this interaction in a completely different way to what I am. And I’m a dumbass for not realizing that earlier.
This doesn’t feel sexual to me, so I’m not remotely aroused; but this warmth I’m feeling, the happy glow that feels as though it’s feeding straight into my soul—that’s better than any orgasm I’ve ever had before.
Am I being selfish getting Skyler all worked up like this just so I can keep feeling like I’m basking in the sun on a perfect spring day while being hand-fed chocolate-covered strawberries? Fuck.
But then it hits me—maybe this is how we could do it. Maybe this is how we could solve the sex problem. The last thing I’m feeling right now is indifference; this is Skyler, and I want to take care of him. I want to make him feel good; and as much as I don’t want to risk that feeling of apathy, I don’t want him to have to forgo pleasure either.
I break the kiss and rest my forehead against his, moving my hand to the front of his sweats and gently rubbing his dick.
“Jackson…what?”
“Let me help you,” I murmur. “I want to, Sky. Let me.”
His expression is full of obvious desire, but there’s a flicker of hesitation there as well. “Jax…”
I brush a light kiss to his lips. “Please? I want to.”
After a long moment of thought, he finally nods.
I smile softly and brush another gentle kiss to his lips before reaching inside his sweats and wrapping my hand around his dick.
He lets out a quiet hiss at the touch, his eyes falling closed, and I see his wary expression morph into one of pleasure and relief.
I rest my forehead against Skyler’s again and watch in rapture as the pleasure I’m giving him plays across his face. I can’t even describe the feeling I’m getting from being able to fulfil this need for him. It’s different to the other glow—I’m still feeling that, through the touch of our foreheads, the feel of his hands on my body, the sensation of his hair sliding through my fingers; this is something more primal. He’s my Skyler and I want him to be happy. More importantly, I want to be the one to make him happy.
“Jackson…god…fuck,”Skyler groans. His head falls to rest in the crook of my neck, his heavy breath hot on my skin. “Let me…fuck, I need to…”
I have no idea what he’s talking about, but there’s no question as to what my answer will be. I duck my head to kiss his ear. “Whatever you need, Sky. You know I’ll always give you whatever you need.”
He nods, moving his lips to kiss over my neck. And then his hand starts moving down my abs.
Things don’t click into place until I feel Skyler’s hand on my dick. My totally soft, not at all interested in getting off right now dick.
And my beautiful spring day is ruined by a rainstorm that I really should have seen coming.
ChapterSeventeen
Skyler
I am such a fucking idiot.I can’t believe I actually let myself hope that things might possibly work out with Jackson. That he might somehow feel the same way about me. Stupid fucking idiot. As though there was ever even the slightest chance Jax would discover some previously hidden desire for men the way Drew did.
“What the fuck, Jackson?” I demand, quickly shooting to my feet and taking several steps away from the coffee table. I remember my freakin’ dick is still hanging out, so I hastily tuck that back in my sweats, feeling a wave of mortification roll over me.
Fuck, I can’t believe I let that happen. What the hell was I thinking? Of course Jackson’s not attracted to me. I already knew that. But with the kissing, and the begging to jerk me off you can see how I might have gotten a little confused. I shouldn’t have, though…“Let me take care of you…”Yeah, same old Jackson.
“I don’t need pity kisses,” I tell him fiercely. “Or pity handjobs. Or—”
“None of that was pity,” he growls back, looking offended at the thought.
I wave a hand in the air. “Fine.Obligationthen. Jackson to the rescue—just like always. “Let me take care of you,” I say using air quotes and a sardonic tone. “This isn’t a bully you can beat up, or an argument you can hide me from, or…food you can give me. I’m not that pathetic little kid anymore, Jackson…”
Jackson has never missed an opportunity to put my needs before his. I should have known it’d only be a matter of time before that instinct kicked in with this new turn of events.
Fuck, did he feel my hard-on and remember the half-starved little kid Steph had to make “Just in Case” sandwiches for? And I don’t mean that in a creepy “thinking about kids while touching a dick” way, it’s just…is that how desperate he thinks I am? That if he didn’t “take care of me” I’d be starving for the rest of the night?
“You were never pathetic,” he says firmly.
