He squeezed and sucked and slurped and stroked, over and over, until stars danced in my vision, and my chest felt like it wanted to explode. I squeezed my eyes shut and let the pleasure wash over me, consume me. In my mind’s eye, all I could see was Jacks, his beautiful eyes and floppy hair, his lopsided grin and toothy smile. I wanted to kiss him so badly, but there was no way I was about to stop what he was doing.
“Jacks, shit . . . if you keep doing that, I’m not gonna be able to hold back.”
Instead of pulling back or slowing, the fucker sped up!
His grip tightened around my balls.
His other hand stroked faster, in time with his head bobbing up and down.
My body wracked and rocked. I had to brace myself on the couch arm.
Still, he didn’t slow.
“Jacks! Stop. Fuck. I can’t—”
He didn’t stop.
The first wave rushed out of me, flowed into him.
He drank it down.
Then the second.
And the third.
Long after I was spent, his head still bobbed, and his hand still stroked. Only when my erection began to soften did he pull back, smack and lick his lips, and grin. What he said next will live rent free in my head forever—and probably get me in trouble the next time I lift weights with the guys.
“Gotta have a protein shake after a good workout, right?”
Chapter 25
Jacks
Skyler Shaw stood naked in front of me, spent and flushed and looking at me like I’d rearranged the constellations.
I was still clothed, still tasting him on my lips. My knees ached from the angle, and there was Thai sauce on my elbow from where I’d braced against the coffee table, but none of that mattered.
What mattered was the look on his face.
It wasn’t merely satisfaction, though there was plenty of that. Written across his features in a way that made me fiercely proud was something deeper, something raw and wondering, like a man seeing color for the first time after a lifetime of gray.
He blinked down at me. His breathing was still labored, his hand resting on my shoulder like he needed the contact to stay upright.
“Jacks.”
“Sky.”
“That was . . .”
“I know.”
“No, I mean, that was really . . .” He shook his head, searching for words that weren’t coming. “Women have done that. To me. Before. And it was fine. Good, even. But that was so different.”
I waited, not sure I would like where this was headed. “Different” could mean so many things.
“It was like . . . a different planet or solar system or a different fucking dimension.” He ran a hand through his hair, still dazed. “Is it always like that? With guys?”
I smiled up at him and shrugged. “I guess that depends on the guy.”
