Chapter 28

CHAPTER 28

L uca

I'm working in the dining room, ticking off a few things on the to-do lists and adding a few others, when Jackson appears in the doorway.

"Hey." He says with a lighthearted smile. I get that he wants to keep it lighthearted—I do too. I'm still feeling what he said earlier, the conversation with Anna is still in my head, and the heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach won't go away.

"Hey," I reply. Even after a hard day's work, this guy can still look gorgeous.

He looks back out into the hall and then back at me.

"Where's Anna?"

"She said she wanted to make her last evening here special, so she's gone shopping." And probably to make sure I had some groceries in the house—though knowing Anna, it's more for Jackson's benefit than mine.

"Is she really going tomorrow?" I can hear a hopeful tone in Jackson's voice. I too have been waiting for the moment we can be fully alone together, but after this morning I'm suddenly feeling nervous. It feels too real. I have too much invested in this to spoil it.

"She has to, or give up the job in the States." Though if she doesn't go, I will seriously consider asking her to leave this time—not that seriously though, because well, I prefer to live.

Jackson nods.

"Mind if I have a shower?"

"Be my guest. You know where it is." I'd given Jackson a very brief tour of the upper floor when he dropped some clothes back here yesterday evening. I'd told him which bedrooms were taken by myself and Anna, and to dump his stuff in whichever one he wanted—and showed him where the bathrooms were.

He turns to go, and then hesitates in the doorway.

"Want to join me?" He casually throws the invitation out there. It hits me square in the chest and catches me off guard—but not for long.

"I sure do."

There are two main bathrooms at Larchdown. One is decorated in an old-fashioned way, with a freestanding roll-top bath, the other is modern and has a large shower that's also a steam room. I'm not sure if it was my aunt's doing or her companion who wanted this, but I mentally thank them. Jackson's already in the shower when I enter the bathroom. His back is to me and I spend a moment appreciating his strong thighs, tight buttocks, and broad, muscled back.

And his tattoo.

It's of a tree that runs all the way up one side of his back, starting with roots just above his left buttock. The trunk follows his torso, and the branches spread across his shoulder blades, almost across to the other shoulder. The leaves show all the seasons. It's exquisite and I stare at it. I want to touch it—I want to touch him.

He realises I'm standing there and throws me a grin over his shoulder. I need no further encouragement so, shrugging off my robe, I pull open the door. The steaminess of the shower hits me, as Jackson pulls me in and the doors click shut. Now I'm facing him, I can see he has a massive erection—well that makes two of us. I'd seen his cock when I blew him the other night and I certainly appreciated its size then, but seeing it now, as a part of his whole, he is perfect. Jackson looks down between us, his eyes light up, and he gives a chuckle. Then he reaches for the shower gel.

He starts to rub lather on my neck and shoulders. I place my hand on his chest, wanting to feel his pecs. He delicately picks up my hand and my eyes snap to his. Maintaining eye contact, he puts my hand down by my side and goes back to applying lather to my chest. My insides heat up. I feel his hands on my body and I know I can't help but reach out again. I ache to touch him. Not just because I really want to run my hands over his body, but I'm also curious to see what he does.

I place a hand on his hip. I watch as he drops his gaze to my hand, then lifts his eyes to mine. There's a tiny quirk at the corner of his mouth, but he shakes his head slightly and removes my hand again.

Ah, fuck .

I'm on fire now. I'm not sure how he can assert himself so gently, but so definitely. The effect he has on me leaves me almost panting. He keeps his eyes on mine as he runs a lathered hand up my cock. Just once, just one god damn firm stroke, and he stops.

I think I might explode. I need his hand back. I need him to touch me. I'm staring at him, begging him with my eyes, as I sure as hell can't speak. I can't even swallow. I can barely breathe. I want to touch him—I want him to try to stop me. Before I get the chance to reach out, he places his hands on my hips and indicates that he wants me to turn round. He gives a little smile and I turn.

His hands work lather into the back of my shoulders, down my back, and across my arse. I know my breathing is becoming ragged. I'm almost quivering, waiting to find out what will happen next. He circles my waist with one arm, placing his hand on my stomach. He draws me backwards.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs into my ear. I shudder. He pulls me close so my back is against his chest and I feel his cock nestling between my buttocks. He gives a little contented grunt and my vision starts to blur. Then his other hand is on my cock. His large and solid hand that I have fantasised about is pumping my cock. Rhythmically, and beautifully, and just slow enough to be exquisite agony. It's too much. I need it faster before I die from sensory overload.

"Faster," I manage to gasp between breaths, and I hear a little growl of a laugh on my neck before he pulls me even closer and changes up a gear. I feel his hips grinding into me, his glorious cock pressed against me.

"Come for me, baby," he whispers in my ear, and I'm undone.

He keeps me held close as I come. I can't form a coherent thought as I stand there panting. Then he slightly releases his hold on my waist. I don't think I can stand on my own, and place my hands on the tiles in front of me. He eases back a little bit, not letting go of me, but just enough to get his hand on his own cock. The sensation of him pumping himself against me is so fucking hot. His knuckles grazing up and down my buttocks, his tip sliding up and down my crease, slipping past my hole. I manage to get one of my hands off the wall to clasp his forearm, which is still wrapped around me. It's not much of a gesture, but it's all I can do to let him know I want him to push harder. With a final thrust, he releases over me.

He stands still, wrapped around me, catching his breath. Then I hear a breathy chuckle, an infectious laugh, and I laugh too. After a minute, I can stand properly and I turn round and kiss him, before reaching for the shower gel to clean up properly this time.