CHAPTER 49

west

H e bought me a goddamn horse. I still couldn’t believe it. Even when I told him that I could buy Betty on my own, Jackson insisted. By the time she was comfortably put away for the night, he had me feeling some kind of way that I couldn’t explain.

Fuck, if that didn’t describe my entire relationship with Jackson.

I followed him up the steps at the end of the night. It’d taken him three attempts to get me out of the stables before damn near threatening me. Betty was fine. She was more than fine. She was content and almost happy with her new setup. Not that I blamed her. Our stables were better than the Kents any day.

“She’ll be fine, West,” Jackson said for the umpteenth time.

“Maybe I should’ve stayed out there,” I replied, closing the door

“West.” The slight uptick of annoyance in his voice wasn’t lost on me. Fuck.

“Sorry, I just— ”

“West,” he repeated, turning. He closed the distance between us, his arm wrapping around my waist as he dragged me to him. His mouth brushed against mine in a slow kiss. My eyes slid shut as I gave in.

I met him kiss for kiss, feeling each one down to my very core. My heart pounded violently in my chest. I grabbed onto his shirt to keep my knees from giving out.

When his tongue swept along the seam of my lips, I opened. The taste of him flooded my mouth—something soft and spicy that I wanted more of. I knocked his hat off and curled my fingers in his hair, kissing him harder. Needing more. Of what exactly? That was a damn good question.

His warmth, his strength, his intensity. I liked the way he felt pressed against my body. I was painfully aware of just how much I liked it as my cock thickened in my jeans. The foreign feeling was unsettling, but I tried to push that thought out of my head. This was normal.

I could do normal.

Strong hands anchored on my hips as he dragged me across the room with him. When his knees hit the couch, we toppled over. His hands tightened, and I landed on top of him. Hard . I adjusted quickly to alleviate the way my weight pinned him to the couch, and my hips settled between his.

“I’m too old for this shit,” Jackson half-groaned, half-laughed. In the dark, I couldn’t see his face but I could hear the smile in his voice. I shut him up with another kiss. His laughter faded completely, and I swallowed the moan he let out.

His hips thrust upwards against mine. The thickness of his dick rolled across my own, sending a shockwave of sensations through my body. Good? Bad? I couldn’t tell.

I was a fucking livewire—a bomb ready to detonate. Every touch did wildly unpredictable things to my body. Things I hadn’t known possible. But they were things I couldn’t identify as good or not. My skin crawled and tingled, making my brain glitch.

I kept going. I wanted this. I wanted normalcy with him. And some part of me had to want more. I wouldn’t be a fucking stone pillar if I didn’t. Right?

Fuck, my head was swimming—intoxicated by him and drowning in confusion .

My lips drifted along his jaw, my teeth scraping against his scruff. His head tipped back as I ran my tongue down the line of his neck. Fingers danced along the waist of my pants, sending my heart lurching into my throat.

When his palm grazed over my hard-on, I grabbed his wrist.

“Don’t,” I rasped against his skin. He stilled as I froze. Where the fuck did we go from here? What if he asked me to explain? I didn’t know how to.

He slowly pulled his hand back, even as I clung to him.

“We can stop, West,” Jackson whispered. We could, but I wasn’t sure I wanted that.

But him touching me?

I couldn’t handle that.

“No,” I said, shaking my head. My lips skated slowly up his neck.

“Hey.” He tried to turn, but I nuzzled closer. I didn’t want any attempt to make eye contact in the dark. “West—”

“Don’t fucking do that.”

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“But what if I want to?”

“West…” The doubt in his voice irritated me.

“It’s not like I haven’t done shit in the last seventeen years,” I told him, my tone sharp. I nipped at his earlobe and liked the quick breath he pulled in. “I have. With both men and women. I just… don’t like being touched.”

That was a lie. I didn’t have a clue if I did. Nothing had ever worked down there. I just figured my dick was broken for good.

And I never trusted anyone enough to let them touch me anyway. What if they…

Jackson changed shit. From the way my fucking dick strained against my jeans uncomfortably to the way I actually wanted more with him.

But that little voice in the back of my head shattered everything. What if he didn’t care? What if he did hurt me? What if all he wanted was to use me?

The list was endless.

It kept my walls high in place.

“Are you really going to fucking complain about my mouth on your cock?” I asked. I gently set his hand on the couch and out of the way .

“No, but…” His voice trailed off as I ran my palm over his dick, pressing hard enough to be felt through his jeans. I continued to stroke him as I kissed my way back up his neck. I reveled in the slight roll of his hips in demand for more and the breathy sounds he let out. Still, he continued, “You’re sure?”

“Just relax and let me suck your dick, cowboy,” I said and dragged my teeth over his earlobe. I didn’t wait for his response as I undid his buckle and opened his jeans. As I reached into his pants, he lifted his hips enough to shove them down.

The thickness of his long dick pressed against my abdomen as I worked my way down his neck. I pushed his shirt up, letting my hand wander over his sculpted muscles. The man was fucking gorgeous. There was no denying that.

But getting my hands on him was a whole different way to appreciate the body he’d built for himself. I took my time tracing the dips and curves of his muscles with both my hands and my lips. The experience was oddly grounding in a way that touch in any form usually wasn’t for me.

Jackson shifted underneath me, making himself comfortable on the couch, while I stroked him slowly—my hand skating up and down his long cock. I flicked my tongue over his slit, licking up the pre-cum gathering there. Something about doing so stalled me in my head. He wasn’t the first guy I’d done this with, but he was the first one that mattered—the first one where any real feelings were involved. I wanted to get this right. For him.

What if I fucked this up?

I needed to get out of my head. Focus on Jackson.

I ran the flat of my tongue along the length of his shaft and slowly circled the crown of his cock. Repeating the action, I enjoyed his drawn-out moan. I took an inch of him in my mouth, teasing him.

“Fuck, baby, just like that,” he rasped, his hips flexing. His cock glided over my tongue as I took him deeper in my mouth. My pace was unrushed as I moved up and down his length. I paid attention to the way he reacted and let it guide everything I did. Salty pre-cum smeared along my tongue, the taste intoxicating.

His taste, his sounds, his scent. All of it was so damn intoxicating.

When he hit the back of my throat, I breathed through my nose and took him as deep as I could. I swallowed, my throat constricting around the head of his cock.

“Jesus fuck,” Jackson let out, his voice tense. His fingers weaved through my hair, gripping lightly. A bolt of panic lanced through me, and I grabbed his wrist to stop him. Yanking him away, I pinned his wrist to the couch. That was a fucking no.

I licked, sucked, and stroked him into a frenzy. His hips thrust upward with every pass. His cock pulsed along my tongue, and his body tensed under me.

“I’m going to come,” he warned, his voice thick as gravel. I hummed but kept going. I pushed him until he lost control completely. With two quick thrusts deep into my mouth, he came. Spurts of hot cum coated my tongue and my throat. I swallowed until he was spent, his movements slowing. I sucked and licked until he practically melted into the fucking couch.

His quiet pants filled the deafening silence in the room as I leaned back. Something seized in my chest, wrapping tight around my heart. My stomach rolled as the temperature in the room skyrocketed.

“I’ll be right back,” I said gruffly. I didn’t wait for him to say a thing as I headed down the hall. In the bathroom, I clung to the sink for support. The weight in my chest was unbearable as I struggled to pull in a breath.

I wanted this.

I wanted this.

I kept reminding myself of that single thing to stave off the pending panic. Every ragged breath burned in my lungs, and I blinked back tears.

I wanted this.

I’d initiated it. I chose to do it. So why the fuck was I spiraling over it?

I didn’t go back to Jackson. Instead, I slipped out the back door before he could notice. A shitty thing to do? Yeah, but I couldn’t break down in front of him.