I’ll admit, finger and toe sucking isn’t something I’ve ever found particularly appealing; but everything else with Jackson has been new and different—and better—so I guess it shouldn’t be much of a surprise that this is too.
As I slide my tongue over the length of his thumb, he lets out a little rumble of pleasure and I feel his free hand slip into my hair, applying gentle pressure as he holds my head in place.
Instinct seems to take over me and I start going to town, swirling my tongue and sucking hard; I even use my teeth, which is obviously an absolute no-go with other types of appendage sucking. Jackson seems to really like it, though, so I start to alternate between some hard suction and scraping my teeth up the length of his thumb. Over and over.
Finally, he drags his thumb from my mouth, leaving me a little dazed, breathless, and horny as fuck.
Leaning over me, he murmurs in my ear, “My turn.”
And then he’s nudging me onto my back and moving above me, pressing kisses over my skin as he makes a southward path.
“Jax.”His name falls from my lips in a soft groan as his hands, and then his lips find my cock. “Shit…Jax.”
I let my fingers roam over the thick muscles of his shoulders, up his nape, over his scalp as he takes my cock in his mouth with all the reverence and love and care he always shows me in every single aspect of our lives.
This isn’t sex. And I don’t need it to be.
Pleasure. Intimacy. Connection. That’s what Jackson and I have; that’s what makes it so much better than anything I’ve experienced before.
Sex was only ever for hook-ups.
Love has always been for us.
ChapterTwenty-Seven
Skyler
“Fuck, why won’t it update,”I groan, frantically clicking the return key on my laptop over and over to refresh the page. “Shit—what if there’s a problem? What if enemy agents have hacked into the system and the whole network is shut down and they can’t post the results and I have to wait weeks for the postal ones and—”
“Babe, calm down.” My panicked ramble dies off as Jackson slides his arms around me from behind and gently nuzzles his head against my jaw. “It’s not midday yet. I think the most likely scenario is that they’re waiting for the scheduled time.”
I tilt my head back with another groan of frustration. “Howis it not midday yet? God, this morning is taking for-fucking-ever.” Like the other first years at our firm, I’ve been given today off work. I guess everyone figured we’d be useless anyway—all distracted and stressed out in the morning while waiting for our Bar results, then wanting to either rush out and celebrate or crawl into a hole and die depending on what the outcome was. A day off seemed like a good idea when Leona suggested it, but now I’m wondering if maybe I shouldn’t have just gone into work this morning and let that take my mind off things.
“Here, baby,” Steph says brightly as she emerges from the kitchen with two champagne flutes in hand, both filled with what looks to be orange juice. She extends one of them out to me as she approaches the kitchen table where I’m hunched over my laptop. “This might make you feel better.”
Jackson straightens up, his tight hold of me easing as his hands move to rest on my shoulders instead. “Mom, is that a mimosa? We’ve already established it’s not even noon.”
Steph shrugs. “So?”
“Since when do you day-drink?” Jackson presses.
Steph lets out a indignant scoff. “I don’tday-drink,Jackson. But I’m a woman in my forties and I can damn well have a little champagne and orange juice in the morning if it makes me feel better about all the crazy shit my body’s doing right now.”
“Okay, okay, we don’t need details,” Jackson mumbles, prompting Steph to roll her eyes.
“Here you go, baby,” she says to me as she offers the mimosa again, her familiar smile back in place.
I take it from her, managing a small smile in return despite the tangle of nerves and dread twisting around in my gut. “Thanks. I’m not sure I should be celebrating yet, though.”
“You’ve got plenty to celebrate,” Steph insists. “No matter what that test score says.”
I give a half-hearted nod and take a sip of the drink, unable to help a little cough escaping me as I swallow, because it isstrong.“Wow. That’s—are you sure you used enough champagne?”
Obviously curious, Jackson plucks the glass from my hand and takes a sip.“Jesus,Mom!”
Steph narrows her eyes at us, clearly unimpressed by our feedback. “Would you boys like me to detail some of the wondrous joys of the perimenopausal experience?”
I give a quick shake of my head. “Nope. No thanks. I’m good.”
