Page 23 of Just One Look
Maverick
By the time we reach the cottage, the wild impulse that prompted me to go down on Jackson in an open field in the pouring rain has given way to the biting cold. I am freezing, and I’m not the only one. Jackson’s teeth chatter as he hops from foot to foot on the front porch while my uncooperative fingers fumble with the keys. My fingernails have turned blueish purple.
So maybe an outside blowjob during a rainstorm wasn’t one of my smartest ideas. Do I regret doing it and possibly catching pneumonia?
No fucking way.
The pressure has been building between us for months now. A possibly pneumonia-inducing blowjob might just be the thing we need to break the tension.
Or not.
When it comes to Jackson, I lose all my bearings. I try to do something nice, like give him his choice of cabins, it blows up in my face. I make an effort to turn the sanctuary around, and he ends up trying to sabotage me. I go down on him, and who knows, he might just live up to his end of the marry, kill, fuck bargain and end up murdering me in my sleep. If nothing else, it’d make for an awesome true crime podcast episode.
I finally throw the door open, and we rush in headfirst, desperate to escape the cold. The heat of the house settles over my pebbled skin. But my fingers and toes are almost numb. We’re going to need more than a warm living room to make sure we don’t get sick.
I trudge a wet trail to the bathroom.
“What are you doing?”
Jackson yells after me, rubbing his wet hands up and down his soaked arms.
“Running you a bath.”
I step into the bathroom and begin filling the tub, kneeling on the tiled floor to adjust the water pouring through the faucets at full blast to something that’s hot without being burn-your-balls hot. Don’t want anything to hurt those because he has got a spectacular pair. Accompanied by a great cock, too. Long, meaty, and so fucking tasty.
“If I’m getting in, so are you,”
he declares, standing behind me, the defiance unmissable in his voice.
I swirl my hand through the warm water, absorbing as much of it as I can into my freezing body.
“It’s not big enough. We won’t fit.”
“We will.”
I turn around and peer up at him. His lips are fucking blue.
“Are you going to fight me on everything? You forgetting we’re meant to be in a truce?”
“I think we’ve well and truly blown that.”
He smirks. Then shivers. Then smirks again.
“Get your butt in here,”
I say, standing. “Now.”
His icy-cold hand clasps mine.
“Only if you come in with me.”
“We won’t fit.”
“We’ll make it work.”
I fling my wet hair back in frustration.
“I am not getting in, Jackson.”
Three minutes later, I’m in the bath.
So is Jackson.
It’s borderline comical, two full-sized dudes crammed into a bathtub from an era where people were either a lot shorter or didn’t bathe in couples.
Not that we’re a couple.
At least not in the romantic sense. As much as I’m open to the idea of something more with Jackson, I’m neither that stupid nor dickblind not to see this for what it is—a what happens on a hostage weekend stays in a hostage weekend situation.
“See? We do fit,”
he says smugly.
“Barely,”
I retort, even though I’m loving the warmth of the water seeping into my skin. I don’t think I’ve ever been that cold in my life.
“You cannot tell me you’re comfortable, though.”
We’re jammed in like pretzels, knees up to our ears, shoulders hunched, and every time one of us moves more than an inch, it triggers a minor tidal wave.
“I’m perfectly comfortable, and keep your legs folded. I don’t want your stinky feet anywhere near me, thank you very much.”
“My feet are not stinky, thank you very much. And besides, I’ve had your dick in my mouth. I think we’re past the point of pretending to be disgusted by each other’s bodies.”
“I’d rather have your dick in my mouth than your feet,”
he blurts out, then blanches.
“That so?”
I tap my fingers along the edge of the bath.
“Is that what you want?”
He bites down on his lower lip, dropping his head as he exhales. “It is.”
“That can be arranged. Obviously not in here. But since we are already sharing a bed.”
He lifts his head, and a storm rages behind those green eyes of his, rivaling the one howling outside.
“I think we should be clear on what this is.”
My chest prickles.
I knew this would come. The inevitable conversation where he tries to neatly wrap this up, say it was a one-time thing, and put it behind us. I just never assumed we’d be having the post-sex convo, pre-sex.
“I’m totally clear on what this is,”
I say, attempting to get out ahead of it.
“A one-time thing. Right?”
“Exactly.”
He replies decisively and a lot faster than I like, but at least it confirms what I suspected all along. Any lingering fantasies about this being the start of something more are well and truly squashed.
And that’s fine.
If that’s what he wants, then I will respect it.
But if all I get is one night with Jackson, I’m going to make it the most unforgettable night of his life.
I get out of the bath first and tidy up the bedroom a bit. It has nothing to do with my legs falling asleep in that tiny tub. I smooth sheets, fluff pillows, and toss our wet clothes onto the floor in the mudroom. While there, I find some candles and matches and light them to give the room a cozy ambiance.
I do a quick once-over. It’s not the Ritz Paris, that’s for sure, but it’s a little nicer.
Jackson steps into the room and nearly loses his balance, grabbing the wall for support.
“Whoa. Why is it so dark in here?”
“I thought it’d be…”
Romantic? Nope, can’t say that.
“Nice. You don’t like it?”
He blinks a few times.
“No. Sorry. It’s…”
“That’s fine,”
I say. Maybe just three candles does make the room too dark. I flick on both bedside lamps. “Better?”
“A bit. Thanks.”
“No problem.”
He pushes off the wall and walks unsteadily to where I’m sitting at the foot of the mattress. A towel hangs loosely off his narrow hips. I let my eyes roam over his exposed skin, savoring it properly for the very first time.
His broad shoulders and the taut sweep of his arm muscles, no doubt sculpted by long days working with horses. His chest, smooth and firm, rises and falls with each slow breath he takes, the low light dancing across the plane of his firm stomach.
I reach out and let my fingers skim over his abs, drifting downward until I take hold of the towel on his hips.
I tug him toward me and look up at him.
“You changed your mind?”
“About a million times.”
“Jackson.”
“I’m kidding.”
“Thought we discussed you not making any more jokes.”
A warm rush of air hits my face as he sighs, shaking his head.
“You’re the most frustrating person I’ve ever met.”
“Thank you.”
I hold his gaze until a smile I’m sure he was desperate to contain rises on his lips.
“You know, I’ve wondered what you look like under your dirty work clothes so many times,”
I murmur, trailing my fingers along the soft flesh just above where the towel sits.
“You have?”
“I have.”
I plant several kisses along the middle of his chest before looking up again.
A crease forms between his brows as he stares blankly down at me. He doesn’t know what to make of that. But I don’t care. If this is going to be a one-time thing, something neither one of us ever mentions again, I’m not holding back. I’m going to say and do what I want, and I don’t care how romantic it may be.
Tonight, I’m going to make Jackson Hunter mine.
“This has to go,”
I say, digging my fingers into the towel.
“If this goes, so does that.”
He points a finger at the boxer briefs I slipped into after I left him in the bathroom.
“Fine.”
I pepper kisses along his pecs, up to his shoulder, his neck, his jaw, stopping just short of his mouth, pulling away as I stand to full height in front of him.
“On the count of three?”
He rolls his eyes.
“You’re an idiot. Shut up and get naked already.”
I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but my already hard dick gets even harder after he says that. I slide the boxers down my legs and step out of them, watching with a laser focus as Jackson unhooks the towel, letting it fall to the floor.
“You’re so beautiful,”
I say, hooking one hand behind his neck and taking in his naked form. I may have blown the guy, but it was near impossible to see anything under the cover of the blanket he was holding over us.
But I get to see every glorious inch of his naked body now. His dick is hard and wet at the tip, and despite his joking around, his eyes are dark with desire, lids hooded as he takes in my body.
“I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you, Jackson,”
I say, taking him by the hand and moving us both over to the bed.
“Do you come with an Off button?”
I open my mouth and gesture toward it.
“Down the back of my throat. I believe you’re familiar with it.”
His cheeks flame. He may not know what to make of all this, and I sure as shit don’t intend on making it any easier for him. If I want to be romantic, I’m going to be romantic. If I want to talk dirty, I’m going to talk dirty. If I want to fuck him senseless and then hold him in my arms afterward, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
And there’s not a damn thing he can do about it.
Outside in the field, everything was rushed and urgent. Now that we’re indoors, warm, and not being pelted by rain, I’m going to take my time, savor every moment, every breath, every moan of pleasure I draw from him.
He lies down on the bed, and I move on top of him, bringing our noses together. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
“You sure you’re okay with everything? Is the room bright enough for you?”
His breath catches.
“It’s fine.”
“Because, not to brag, I do fantastic work. You’ll want to see it. Trust me.”
He averts his gaze, sliding his hand across my chest.
“I’ll stop with the jokes if you stop talking, period.”
“Deal. Just don’t kill me after, okay?”
He opens his mouth with what I’m sure is another smart-ass retort but stops himself at the last minute.
I drop a trail of kisses starting at his chin, down his neck, then follow a central line south from his Adam’s apple, licking my way down to the base of his neck, his breastbone, his solar plexus, the faint lines of his abs, his belly button, the dark trail of hair leading from his navel downward, the base of his cock, down the length all the way to the tip.
I curl my fingers around it, firm but gentle, and take in every inch of his arousal. As he pulses beneath my skin, I marvel at the weight and heat, the slight upward curve, the precum oozing out of his slit.
Ducking down, I glide the tip of my tongue gently against his crown, scooping up his salty release, letting the burst of flavor dance on my tongue, before swallowing. I take him in my mouth as I turn my gaze up to him.
Jackson moves through the world with purpose. Determination. And a bit of rage thrown in for good measure. He’s a man on a mission, going from point A to point B.
But not right now.
Right now, he’s relaxed. Like all his worries and cares have disappeared. There’s a softness in his expression I’ve never seen before and a throbbing hardness in my mouth that ignites me, pushes me to take him all the way, to take the pleasure he’s feeling now and amplify it a thousand times.
And this time, I want to see Jackson Hunter come undone.
I fall into a rhythm, deep-throating him in long, even strokes, keeping one hand pressed firmly into his abdomen, the other cupping his heavy balls, gently knocking them from time to time, eliciting the sweetest, filthiest groans from him every time I do.
“I want a turn,”
Jackson murmurs hoarsely, lifting his head.
With my eyes glued to his, I tell him.
“I’m not ready to stop tasting you,”
before lapping at the underside of his cock. It drove him wild in the field before, and yep, it has the same effect now.
His eyes roll into the back of his head.
“Fuck, that’s so good. On second thought, I don’t want you to stop either.”
“I have an idea.”
I swing my legs onto the bed and curl his body into mine. “There,”
I say with a satisfied smile as my shaft lines up with Jackson’s face.
“A little sixty-nining never hurt anyone, right?”
He smiles, shaking his head.
“Thought I told you to shut up.”
I tap my temple, murmur.
“Yes, sir,”
and get back to sucking his cock. Except this time, he’s doing the same to me. Heat surges through my core, rippling out in every direction as he takes me into his mouth.
Groans and the sounds of two dudes sucking each other off wrap around us, thick and all-consuming. I don’t know about him, but I’m getting close, my balls tingling with early signs of imminent release.
Not on my fucking watch.
We’re only just getting started.
I pull myself off his dick and spit into my hand, trailing my fingers past his balls and down his taint, coming to a rest when I reach his hole. He gasps around my cock as I casually tap a saliva-slicked digit against his entrance a few times.
“This okay?”
“Mmmph,”
he hums, and the vibration shoots up my spine, lifting the hairs on the back of my neck.
“What about this?”
I slip the top part of my middle finger, up to the first knuckle, into him.
“Mphhh-uhh.”
His moan is guttural, accompanied by quick, vigorous bobs of his head, and my cock is now addicted to asking him questions.
I keep my pace slow as I push a full finger into him, then add another one. For three, though, I’m going to need more than saliva.
“Don’t move,”
I say, and Jackson stills. With me buried to the hilt in his mouth.
“Okay, move a little. I need to get something.”
He pulls off me with a loud pop, and my body temperature instantly plummets about fifty degrees. I scramble off the bed and retrieve supplies from where someone conveniently tucked them into the hidden pocket inside my suitcase. I leap back onto the bed.
“They thought of everything.”
Jackson doesn’t reply straightaway, squinting like he can’t make out what I’m holding. Maybe it’s still too dark in here for him.
“The essentials. Lube and condoms,” I say.
“Oh yeah. Right, of course.”
A pause. Then.
“I do not want to think about who packed that for us.”
“Neither do I. So let’s not.”
I slide back into position.
“Is my dick a good enough distraction for you?”
He smirks.
“It’ll do.”
He starts going down on me again as I continue opening up his hole, sliding three lubed fingers in and out until I’m satisfied he’s adequately stretched.
I wriggle around until I’m on my knees, my huge cock jutting out proudly over his chest.
“Ready for more?”
I ask, reaching for the packet of condoms and pulling one out, waving it nice and close in front of him so there’s no way he can’t see it.
“I am.”
“Cool.”
I roll the condom over my swollen cock and line up against his body, lifting one leg at a time, resting the backs of his calves against my shoulders.
If we’re doing this, I need to see every single expression that crosses his face. The head of my cock notches into the nook of his ass, hands-free. I smile. It’s like our bodies were made for each other.
I enter him slowly, watching intently as his eyes widen and his breathing deepens.
“That’s it,”
I say softly, caressing his cheek as he gets used to my cock.
“I’m going slow.”
Inch by inch, I fill him up, resisting the primal urging bubbling up within me to plunge into him, placing his comfort above all else. If all goes according to plan, I’ll be ravaging him in no time.
When I bottom out, he releases a heavy groan.
“You okay?”
“Fuck. So full. I’ve never…”
He shuts his eyes, wincing, and I start withdrawing.
“No. Stay. I like it. It’s just you’re so…big.”
“There is a well-known correlation between ego size and penis size,” I offer.
His eyes snap open.
“What will it take to shut you up?”
“Kiss me.”
“Fine.”
He yanks me down by the neck, crashing my mouth into his. I don’t know whether it’s the change of angle or the distraction of hate-kissing me, but his body relaxes, accommodating my cock as I begin gently rolling my hips.
If I’m the biggest he’s ever had, there’s still a chance I could hurt him. And I’ll be damned if I let that happen. So I take my time, filling him as deep as he can take it, then easing back about halfway.
Once he’s good with that, I gradually increase the pace, the depth, and how much I pull out until his hole is gaping and I can draw all the way out of his body, then plunge all the way in.
“Feels so good,”
he mutters into my mouth.
“Good,”
I grunt back, straightening so I don’t miss a single reaction. His eyes have glazed over, and his lips are permanently open. I slide my thumb over his freckles, hooking it under his jaw.
“Look at me, Jackson,”
I command.
I let go of his chin. His gaze drifts up to meet mine of his own volition, and a blanket of heat wraps over my shoulders. I keep fucking him, our eyes locked, our breathing in sync. I’ve had some highs in my life, but nothing beats this.
Nothing even comes close.
His hard cock is bouncing against his stomach as I rail him, so I grab it and squeeze down on it.
Hard.
His eyes bulge.
“Fuck. Why does that feel so good?”
he pants, staring down his body to where my hand has his cock in a viselike grip.
I point my spare hand at my sealed lips. Not that I’ve really bothered sticking to it, nor has he been a stickler for enforcing it, but it’s always fun teasing him.
“You can talk,”
he cries out.
“Just fucking tell me what you’re doing to me.”
“Told you I had moves you’d want to see,”
I say, easing off the rhythm a little, giving the poor guy a chance to catch his breath. I don’t know why I grabbed his dick. I was going to start jerking him off, but something made me just hold him instead. He clearly likes it, so it worked out well.
“Pressure on a hard cock feels good. It’s as simple as that. Don’t overthink it. Just enjoy.”
“I am,”
he gasps, staring at me with a bewildered look in his eyes.
“Believe me, I am.”
I pick up the pace again, a feeling I’ve never felt coursing through me. My body knows what Jackson’s body wants, even if he and I don’t.
It’s wild.
I release the pressure on Jackson’s cock and start jerking him off.
“I’m close,”
he grunts.
“Good. Come for me.”
His eyes shut, his face contorts, his body spasms. “Fuuuuck!”
The second jets of cum shoot out of his dick, my own release hits me. I grind against him, fireworks exploding all around me as I fill the condom.
The last of his release drizzles over my fingers, and I release his cock from my grip, resting it on his stomach as I begin to pull out. I lower down, ghosting my lips over his as I slide out of him.
“Oof,” he coos.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. Just a big change from being so full to?—”
I won’t let him say empty, cutting him off with a kiss. Then I gently roll him onto his side, pressing his back into my body.
“I got you, Jackson,”
I whisper, kissing the back of his sweaty neck.
“I got you.”
And I do.
He arches into my touch, and I smile, buzzing from head to foot. I’ve never felt so close, so connected to anyone as I do to him right now.
After a little while, his breathing evens out. Without waking him, I slide my arm out from under him to pull the covers up and turn off the bedside lights. Once the room is dark, I cradle him in my arms and drift off to sleep.
I wake up when I feel Jackson stirring in my arms. Sunlight creeps in around the curtains, a sure sign we’ve slept past dawn.
“Morning,”
I say into the back of his shiny black hair.
“Morning.”
“Sleep well?”
“Better. Your breathing was still weird. Lucky for you, I passed out, so I didn’t hear it as much.”
I chuckle softly, amazed he’s able to pick up his teasing without missing a beat. I need at least two coffees to start functioning.
“And what made you pass out?”
I can’t see his face, but I can feel him smile.
“I think we both know.”
“You sore this morning?”
He wriggles his ass around a little, inadvertently rubbing it against my morning chub.
“A little, yeah.”
And that instantly dashes any hopes I had for another round.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. You just have a really big dick.”
“Well, I’m sorry you’re sore. I’ll look after you.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“But I want to.”
I tap him on the shoulder.
“How much longer am I going to be talking to the back of your head?”
“Morning breath,”
he replies.
“I don’t want you dealing with mine. Or me with yours, frankly.”
I know better than to try and convince him otherwise, so I snuggle into him as we lie in a peaceful quiet.
A few minutes pass.
The note that was left for us said someone would pick us up today around lunchtime.
I plant a light kiss on the nape of his neck.
“I know about your family owning the rescue center.”
His body goes rigid.
“You do? How?”
“I did some digging into old property records on the place. Went back further than the standard few years. It showed that a Clancy Ford once owned the sanctuary and all the land surrounding it. Until he sold it to the Duporths.”
Jackson scoffs and turns around to face me. Morning breath be damned, apparently.
“Sold it. Yeah, right. They stole it from him.”
“What?”
“I know it sounds crazy, and I don’t have the full story, but I am more sure than I’ve been of anything in my life that Clancy didn’t want to sell.”
“Then why did he?”
“Like I said, I don’t know the details.”
“He hasn’t told you?”
“He hasn’t told anyone. Which is very unlike him to be keeping a secret, especially one this big. That’s why we suspect the Duporths did something ultra shady to take it from him.”
“Like blackmail?”
Jackson frowns.
“Maybe? Whatever it was, it had to be big for Clancy to give up something that belonged to our family for generations.”
I slide my fingers across the slope of his shoulder blade.
“Is that why you’ve held a vendetta against every single new owner?”
“Partly, yes. I’m also, as you may have noticed, kind of moody.”
I grin. “Kind of?”
He grins back, and it takes my lungs a moment to remember how to operate. Seeing him like this, unguarded, vulnerable, honest, convinces me that we could work together.
Surely he must feel it too?
I take in the sprinkle of freckles that line his nose and cheeks, committing each and every one to memory.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“What difference would it have made?”
“Maybe none. But it does feel kind of pertinent. Might have been useful to know. Might have helped me understand your passion extends past the horses and to the place itself. Why your cabin means so much to you. Why you reacted the way you did when I told you you had to move out.”
“About that…”
“Yeah?”
“I’ve been thinking.”
“When? Have I not been fucking your brains out for hours and hours and hours?”
He smiles, the skin around his eyes crinkling.
“You have. Believe me. I’ll be feeling it for days.”
“I’m going to take that as a compliment, even though I’m still going to look after you this morning.”
“That’s really not necessary,”
he says with absolutely no conviction. He traces his fingers along my collarbone, his eyes following the movement like it’s the only thing in the universe.
“You said my cabin needs to be demolished within thirty days. Can I stay in it until then?”
he asks, his voice small.
My jaw firms.
“It’s not me saying you have to leave. The structure isn’t safe.”
“I know. I’ll take the risk. It’s on me. I just need some time to accept it. To say goodbye. Please?”
Now that it’s been confirmed the building isn’t structurally sound, I don’t want him in there one second longer than he needs to be. But that cabin has been around for decades. It’s highly unlikely anything is going to happen to it in the next month. And knowing what I do about his family’s history with that place, it would be borderline cruel to throw him out of his home so abruptly.
“Fine,”
I agree.
“But if we get a strong storm or an earthquake, you are out of there. Immediately.”
He rolls his eyes but nods.
“Sure. But earthquakes? Drama queen much? This isn’t LA.”
He’s right. The wine region does experience minor earthquakes, but because it sits on smaller fault lines than places further south, they’re less frequent and tend to be less severe. Still, it’s not out of the realm of possibility, so I am not a drama queen.
I just care about him.
A lot.
A scary lot.
“It’s still California,”
I retort, becoming increasingly distracted by the patterns he’s tracing against the top of my chest. My dick, already half-chubbed, is fully awake now, draining my blood supply from my brain, my concerns about building codes diminishing by the second.
“Does this mean you’re not quitting?” I ask.
“It does…if I still have a job?”
“You do.”
I seize his wrist.
“On one condition.”
His eyes meet mine. “What?”
I hold his gaze, a gentle ache pulsing through me as the seconds stretch between us. Jackson can get away with a lot of shit, but I have a line. A limit. A breaking point I never want to reach again. I’ve lost all my friends and an ex once because of dishonesty; I am never enduring something like that again.
I’m going to spell out what I need from him in no uncertain terms so that he understands this is one line that cannot be crossed.
“No more secrets, okay? When we get back to the real world, I’m prepared to forget about this weekend if that’s what you want. But I need us to be honest with each other. No more games. No more lies. Even if they’re via omission. This is important to me, Jackson. After everything I told you about what happened in the city, I’m sure you understand why. So, what do you say? Do we have a deal?”
He holds my gaze for what feels like eternity before eventually pressing his lips together. “Yeah,”
he says slowly.
“We have a deal.”