Page 11

Chapter Nine

Jackson

C hrist. The taste of her name on my lips isn't enough anymore.

I need the taste of her .

I drop to my knees without warning, hands gripping her thighs as I yank her jeans and panties down in one desperate motion. She gasps, fingers scrambling for purchase against the door behind her.

"Jackson—"

"Let me," I growl, looking up at her from between her legs. Those ice-blue eyes are wide, pupils blown with want. "Let me taste you."

Her breath stutters as I spread her silky smooth thighs wider, positioning myself exactly where I need to be. Where I've been fantasizing about being since the moment I watched her command that entire ballroom today.

Fuck.

She was magnificent.

Standing there in her tiny dress, tablet in hand, orchestrating what was previously chaos into perfection. Like she'd done it a thousand times before. Like she was born for it.

I'd tried to stay focused on my job, to talk to the media, to get ready for the big draft. But I couldn't look away. Even from the careful distance I maintained, I saw every executive in that room hanging on her words. Every detail handled with like a goddamn corporate Michelangelo painting.

She belonged there. In that world. My world.

It makes me wonder… why has she been running from it?

The first taste of her pulls a groan from deep in my chest. She's sweet and slick and so fucking responsive that my cock throbs against my sweatpants, desperate for attention I'm not ready to give it yet.

Not when I can make her fall apart like this.

"Oh god," she moans, head falling back against the door.

I drag my tongue through her folds, savoring every drop, every tremor that runs through her body. She's glistening, soaking wet, her scent thick in the air. I press my mouth in deeper, flattening my tongue against her slit, and fuck, the taste of her makes my eyes roll back.

Her hands fist in my hair, nails scraping my scalp, tugging just hard enough to make me groan against her pussy.

The sound vibrates through her, and her hips buck forward, seeking more.

I give it to her.

I flick my tongue over her clit, teasing it before I suck it between my lips and suck hard with a greedy growl. She cries out, a strangled sound that echoes off the hotel walls.

My hands grip her creamy, soft thighs tighter, thumbs digging into the smooth flesh as I hold her open, so vulnerable, so exposed for me.

She tastes like heaven and sin and every bad decision I've ever wanted to make.

"You're perfect," I grunt against her heat, the words muffled between laps against her pussy. "So fucking perfect."

Her response is a broken whimper that shoots straight to my cock. I can feel her getting wetter, her slick coating my chin, her thighs trembling against my palms as I feast on her like a man possessed.

Last time she was in this room, that morning when we woke up together wrecked and hungover beyond all belief, I watched her panic about our marriage.

I thought maybe we'd made a mistake.

Maybe the alcohol had made us both stupid and reckless.

But now, with her taste flooding my senses and her moans echoing off the hotel room walls, I know better.

This isn't a mistake. This is inevitable.

I suck her clit between my lips, flicking it with my tongue until she cries out, her grip in my hair tightening to the point of pain. The sting only makes me harder, makes me more desperate to claim every inch of her.

"Jax, oh ! I can't," she gasps, but her hips are rolling against my mouth, chasing the pleasure I'm giving her. "This is insane."

I pull back just enough to speak, my breath hot against her slick flesh. "You taste so fucking good."

I drag my tongue lower, teasing her entrance before plunging it inside her. She jerks forward with a helpless moan, legs shaking, her whole body trembling as I fuck her with my tongue, devouring her like I’ll never get the chance again.

The possessiveness in my voice surprises even me. But watching her today, seeing her in her element, knowing she's been hiding this part of herself...

I want to strip away every defense she has. Every wall she's built. Every reason she thinks she needs to run from this world.

From me.

"Jackson, please—"

I dive back in, tongue fucking her with a hunger I didn't know I possessed. There's nothing soft about it. This is raw hunger.

My tongue drives in deep, my nose nudging her clit, my chin soaked in her sweet juices. I can feel her walls fluttering, her whole body winding tighter and tighter.

Her walls clench around me, and I can feel her getting close. Her breathing turns ragged, her thighs shaking with the effort of staying upright.

I could stay here forever. Making her come apart with just my mouth. Over and over and over again.

"Come for me," I demand against her clit, the vibration making her gasp. "Come on my tongue, Cassie."

"Oh, Jackson!" she moans, breath ragger, body arching. She grabs the back of my head and shoves me deeper into her cunt, like she wants to drown in this.

"That's it, good girl. Good fucking girl."

Her orgasm crashes through her with brutal force.

She screams my name, body seizing, thighs clamping tight around my head as she rides my tongue through every pulse of pleasure.

Her hips jerk uncontrollably, and I lap at her through it, tongue chasing every drop of her come, licking her like it’s the only thing that matters.

She tastes better than anything I’ve ever known. Sweet, hot, fucking feral .

I hold her steady as she trembles, licking gently now, tender, soothing strokes that make her shiver and twitch from oversensitivity.

Finally, she gasps, pushing at my head, her fingers weak and shaking.

“Too much,” she breathes. “I can’t…”

I press a kiss to her inner thigh, then sit back on my heels, panting like I’ve just run a marathon.

She’s a vision.

Leaning against the door, hair wild, cheeks flushed, chest heaving with every shaky breath. Her pussy is still wet and swollen, pink and glistening from my mouth.

My cock is so hard it's painful, straining against my sweatpants, but all I can think about is how beautiful she looks falling apart because of me.

"Fuck," she breathes, sliding down the door until she's eye level with me. "That was—"

I capture her mouth with mine, letting her taste herself on my tongue. She moans into the kiss, her hands fumbling with the waistband of my sweats.

"Bed," she demands against my lips. "Now."

I lift her easily, one arm braced beneath her ass, the other splayed across her back as her legs lock tight around my waist.

She clings to me like I’m oxygen. Her mouth is insistent, devouring every groan that slips between us.

We crash into the bed in a tangle of limbs and she pushes at my sweatpants. I kick them off, shoving her panties aside as I strip the last barrier from her body until we're both gloriously naked.

The sight of her laid out beneath me steals the breath from my lungs.

God. She’s devastating.

That gorgeous new hair she's worn so well all day, the waves of blonde spilling across my pillow like a halo, her flushed cheeks glowing in the dim lamplight.

Her perfect plump tits rise with every shaky breath, soft and full with nipples that beg for my mouth. Her legs are spread wide, slick and glistening with everything I just tasted from her.

She’s sprawled before me like a feast I haven’t even begun to finish.

She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

I hover above her, drinking in every inch—the soft curve of her hip, the constellation of freckles across her rib cage.

"What?" she whispers, suddenly self-conscious under my stare.

"I'm just..."

Words fail me and I shake my head. How can I explain I'm memorizing her? Making damn sure that this time, I won't forget a single detail.

Because that's the thing… I don't remember our wedding night. Not really. Just fragments. Flashes of skin. The scent of her perfume that lingered for days.

But nothing concrete about what actually happened between us.

How the fuck is that possible?

Looking at her now, spread beneath me like this. There's no way I wouldn't remember every second, every touch, every sound she made.

"Stop staring and fuck me," she demands, reaching up to pull me down for another kiss.

I laugh against her mouth. "Patience, wife."

The word slips out before I can stop it, and I feel her stiffen beneath me.

"We're not—"

"We are," I cut in, my voice a dark promise as I settle between her thighs. “Right now, we fucking are.”

I reach down and slide my cock through her soaked folds, dragging my length over her clit again and again, coating myself in her moisture. The sound is filthy, wet and obscene, and it only makes her whimper harder.

She’s drenched.

So damn ready I could bury myself in one hard thrust and she'd take every inch.

Instead, I tease.

I push just the head in, watching her face twist with frustration, her hips chasing mine. My cock throbs in my hand, but I don't give all the way in. Her pussy clenches in anticipation, fluttering with every breath I take.

“Jackson,” she pants, nails raking down my shoulders, trailing over my abs as she tries to guide my hips closer. “Please.”

“Tell me,” I growl, barely hanging on. “Tell me you want this. You want me .”

Her gaze locks with mine, openly raw and wrecked, and that when I see it.

All of it. No more pretending.

“I want you,” she whispers. “I want this.”

I push into her slowly, letting her tightness consume me entirely.

It's a slow, brutal push, inch by inch, until I'm buried to the hilt in her hot, wet cunt. Her body wraps around me like it’s where I belong, clinging to every ridge of my cock, greedy and tight and fucking perfect.

"You feel like home," I confess against her ear, the words torn from somewhere deep in my chest.

She lets out a gasp and rocks her hips up to meet mine, drawing me deeper still.