Chapter 17

Ash

Jackson uses the sheet to wipe his face before stepping down off the side of the bed. I nearly groan, the sight stirring something primal in me. It was my ass he had his face buried in. His spit that was dampening his cheeks and beard.

Maybe that shouldn't be as sexy as it is, but sex is messy, plain and simple. And seeing the evidence being scrubbed against his sheets has me ready to make a mess of Jackson once more.

My dick isn't hard again. Yet . But I have no doubt it won't be long before it is.

Jackson tugs his shirt over his head as I settle on my back, the pillow with my cum on it lying beside me. My ass aches , all of Jackson's efforts to stretch and loosen me making me all the more eager for his cock. Don't get me wrong; the tongue-fucking was sublime.

But I need him. I need him to fill me. To spill inside my body. I need to see his face when he comes. When he finally unravels.

I've gotten a glimpse tonight of a side of Jackson that he doesn't often show. It was the same that night he knocked on my door and dropped to his knees before me. The eagerness. The desperation in his eyes that left me panting with want.

I think he needs this as much as I do. Needs the connection. Needs to let go .

I wanted to see Jackson Darling's stoic control shatter. I wanted to see him break open for me. I just never thought it'd be this sweet.

Jackson's pants fall to the floor, joining his shirt. His cock presses against the front of his underwear until he pulls them down, seemingly content to take his time. His eyes rake over me as he steps out of the material, and mine do the same to him. He's glorious. All hard muscle and tanned skin, his body honed by decades of work and determination and softened just so by time. His eyes are blazing, the blue looking so very bright, the coppery hints in his beard and hair glinting under the lights in his room. Even without the flannel and jeans, he looks roughened, an extension of this land. Of this lifestyle.

A cowboy to his very bones.

"Are you planning on joining me anytime soon?" I ask, giving my cock a slow stroke. It's starting to rally, firming beneath my hand and under Jackson's stare.

He grunts, making a smile twist my lips.

Raising an eyebrow, I plant my heel on the mattress and let my leg fall to the side. Jackson's eyes dip down.

"Am I still wet?" I ask him.

He groans, looking downright pained. "Not wet enough."

"Well?" I goad.

That seems to do the trick. Jackson spurs into action, walking to his end table before climbing onto the bed. He presses my other leg wide, his thumb digging into my thigh as he eyes my ass. My pulse beats a heavy drum as I wait, my hand leisurely pumping myself, my anticipation so palpable I can feel it in my toes.

Jackson flips open the lid on the lube without even looking at it.

"Fuck, you're a sight," I tell him, one arm behind my head to see him better. He's kneeling between my legs, his cock hanging low, hard and so goddamn thick. He ignores it, his focus on me as he brings lubed fingers to my ass. He slips two inside, picking up right where he left off. " God ."

"Good?" Jackson all but grunts.

"Darlin', you're so fucking good."

He seems to preen at that, his chest swelling and a nearly imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his lips. His focus, however, is absolute. He pumps his fingers inside of me, spreading the lube, pressing gently against my rim to open me up.

"It's not going to take much," I tell him, my body already so languid I'm pretty sure he could get his cock in me without trouble.

"What'd I tell you?" Jackson asks, his gaze meeting mine.

"That you want to take your time with me?"

He hums a short confirmation. Well . Far be it from me to ruin his fun.

Jackson slips in a third finger, his strokes intentional, not efficient. He picks up my leg, bringing it close and turning his face to kiss my calf. I damn near swoon.

He tucks my leg over his shoulder as his thumb grazes my rim, his fingers rubbing inside of me. His hand trails along the outside of my leg, soothing and exploring, his fingertips on my calf, my ankle, my thigh. All the while, he plays with my ass, seemingly content to do just that— play .

"Your favorite color?" I ask.

Jackson's eyes flash to mine. "What?"

"I'm getting to know you," I tell him, wiggling my toes. He takes the hint and resumes fingering me.

"Gray," he answers.

"Liar."

He snorts, twisting his fingers, and ahh .

"Red," he says. "Like the mountains at sunset, when everything is hushed and dark and peaceful."

I hum, hand still stroking my cock slowly. Jackson's eyes follow the movement. "I like green," I tell him. "Always have. Maine was a lot of blue. The water, the sky, the crab, even. Here, there's so much green. It's expansive, like air in my lungs."

He looks pensive, and I nearly laugh at the expression because he's fucking my ass with four fingers now. I don't need it, but fuck does it feel good.

"I've never heard air described as green before," he finally says.

"No? Well, I've never seen someone exercise such immense control with a raging hard-on before. You ready yet? He sure looks it."

Jackson huffs as I eye his dick pointedly, but he turns his head again, kissing my leg before removing his fingers. He opens a condom without question, which I appreciate. Going without would require a conversation we haven't had. Jackson rolls the condom down his cock with quick movements, adding a decent swipe of lube after. His eyes meet mine again.

"Good?" I ask.

He nods, but still, he doesn't move. I tip my hips up in invitation. He takes a deep breath.

"Jack? Did you want me on my—"

"Like this," he says, cutting me off, his grip on my leg tightening. "I just…"

"Need a second?"

"Mm."

"All right," I say, flexing my toes a couple times. "Is this a quick-draw thing? Because if so, it's fine. If you come right away, I'm sure your tongue can—"

He starts to laugh, the sound so surprising I don't finish my sentence.

"What?" I ask, laughing along with him, that brightness in his eyes as he ducks his face making my chest ache in the best way.

He shakes his head a couple times before easing forward, the motion pressing my leg up against my body, opening me wide. His hand lands beside my shoulder, his face a foot away from mine.

"I'm not emptying my round in .2 seconds," he says, laughter still in his tone. "It's not that . It's a you thing, Ashley. A me-and-you thing."

My heart thumps painfully, my breath getting lost somewhere on the passage from my mouth to my lungs. Jackson notches his cock against me, the pressure causing me to reflexively bear down.

"It's a good thing," he adds, staring at me, the vulnerability in his eyes more shocking than anything else he's said or done here tonight.

I nod, managing a, "Yeah."

Yeah, it's a good thing. A very good thing.

Yeah, I'm ready for your cock. I've been ready for weeks.

Yeah to all of it.

Jackson presses forward, his eyes shuttering as he slips inside my body. He moves slowly, his hand leaving the base of his cock and anchoring against my leg that's still hooked over his shoulder. His fingers dig in, his lips finding my knee. He leaves another kiss there, the two of us so close his hair nearly brushes my nose.

"Jackson," I groan, the sound a whisper.

He turns his face my way slowly.

"Kiss me while you make me come," I request. Or maybe it's a demand.

Jackson's nostrils flare, his cock seating fully inside my body, hips against my ass. He lets go of my leg, planting his hand on the mattress beside my head, bracketing me on both sides. I'm practically folded in half, but I like it. The way he's pinning me to the bed. How deep he is inside my body.

When his lips touch mine, it's on an inhale. Mine. His. We breathe in, a moment of calm, a beat of stillness. And then Jackson moves.

It's slow at first, a shallow punch of his hips that has the both of us groaning. His beard bristles my face as he sucks my lip into his mouth, his tongue teasing me open the next second as his hips flex again. I find purchase against his side as we move together, my other hand wrapping around his bicep and holding tight. He punches a gasp out of me, one he quickly absorbs, our mouths all but dueling now as Jackson picks up speed, the drag of his cock feeling like heaven. A fuck leaves my lips, my heart pounding, the slap of Jackson's hips against my ass a filthy soundtrack over our breaths.

"Harder," I find myself saying. Another demand.

Jackson grunts, falling down to his elbow, the move causing my leg to shift off his shoulder. Our chests brush as he slams into my body. God , yes.

" Harder. "

He curses, his teeth scraping my lip as he punches into me so hard my cock jerks from the blissful force of it. I lock my feet behind his ass, needing the leverage. My hands find the headboard, holding on, holding steady.

"Come on, Jackson," I groan, the drag of his dick lighting me up. "I'm not gonna break."

God , the near snarl he lets out. He lifts his head, clocking my expression, finding…I don't know what. And then his lips lock with mine, his hand threads into my hair, and he fucks me. My breath beats out of me in rhythmic puffs, Jackson's abs grinding against my cock as he ruts into me so hard the bed creaks. So hard my balls draw up. My entire body is wound tight, the pace fast and so brutally perfect I'm left no choice but to keep climbing. I must be strangling his cock with the way my muscles have tightened, and his groan confirms it.

"Gonna… come," I pant out.

He shifts in a way that hits me just right, does it again, and I'm gone. My cock jerks against Jackson's stomach, the orgasm ruthless in the way it robs me of control. My breath stutters, my muscles lock, and I come and come , my ears ringing with the force of it. Jackson's hips stutter, too, his pace breaking. He grinds against me, his palm slapping the side of my ass as he grabs my hip, as if he could somehow push himself deeper. He can't. He's in me to the root, his cock flexing as he empties on a groan.

My body continues to ping and buzz as my ears slowly stop ringing. I feel damn near electrocuted, my entire being sore but utterly satisfied as Jackson's weight keeps me rooted in place. The both of us are breathing heavily, his hand rubbing a slow circle against my hip now, his breath fanning over my collarbone. He feels good, perfect , and I inhale the scent of him, trying to store it away for later.

Man. Earth. Rain, heavy in my lungs, soothing.

"You smell like this place," I say softly, another small aftershock making me constrict around his cock.

Jackson untucks his face from my neck, blinking his eyes slowly. "Yeah? And what's that smell like?"

Home .

The thought is immediate. Strong. But I don't voice it, unsure if Jackson would even believe me.

"Horses," I answer instead.

He stares at me for the longest beat before his lips twitch. He looks relaxed. Carefree. If a good fuck is all he needs to unwind now and again, I'd be happy to oblige. More than happy .

Jackson shakes his head, muttering, "Impossible man," as he leans back. The fondness in his voice makes it difficult to mourn the loss of his cock as he pulls out of me. But even still, I wince slightly, the sudden cold and lack of fullness my least favorite part about anal. Jackson seems to realize. He adds a soft, "Sorry," placing a kiss on my bent knee as he sits back to dispose of the condom.

"You could always make it up to me," I say, intending to follow up my comment with a joke about kissing it better. But as I lower my arms from their position above my head, I groan instead. Son of a bitch .

"All right?" Jackson asks, concern in his eyes.

"Yep," I eke out, my voice tight. And my shoulders . Goddamn it.

"You are not," he says, all but huffing the words.

"Just need a minute," I say, laying my arms out to my sides and waiting for the spasms to stop.

Jackson grunts, getting off the bed and walking into the hall. A minute later, he returns with a hand towel.

"I'm probably going to need a shower," I point out. "But thanks, I—"

"Turn over," Jackson says gruffly.

I blink at him. "What now?"

"Turn. Over," he repeats.

Not sure what his intention is, I ease up, wincing again, and flip onto my stomach. Jackson climbs up over my legs, and then something hot is being set across my shoulder blades. The cloth, I realize.

"All right?" he asks, his hands smoothing over the fabric.

"Yeah," I answer weakly.

He grunts, pressing down. His fingers start working the muscles on either side of my spine, and I groan again, the pressure and aching pain exquisite. It's the good kind of hurting. The kind that means relief.

My muscles start to relax as Jackson kneads them into submission. When the cloth turns cool, he removes it, continuing to run his hands over my upper back and shoulders. It's so divine I don't ask him to stop.

"A good memory from your childhood?" he asks.

It takes me a minute to understand he's tossing me a get-to-know-you question like I did earlier to him. I hum, letting myself melt into the mattress.

"When I was eleven," I tell him, "my mom took me sailing. My grandpa had a boat, and, before he passed, we'd go out with him sometimes. But that day, it was just me and my mom. I don't remember everything, but I remember a few details. My mom's blue-and-white boat shoes. Her laughing as we caught a particularly high wake, the boat rocking as if we were far out at sea. I remember the little tuna sandwiches she made us, cut into perfect squares."

I ease out a breath, which turns into another groan as Jackson's thumb presses into a particularly sensitive spot near my neck. He massages there gently.

"That was the day I told my mom I had a crush on Mason from homeroom." The memory has a smile tugging at my lips. "She said, ‘Oh, yeah? Tell me about him.' It was so…easy. I had just come out, and she made it easy."

Jackson kisses my shoulder, his scruff tickling my skin. "You love her."

"I do," I say on a sigh. "We butt heads sometimes, but my mom has always been there for me. I remind myself of that when her concern turns a little overbearing."

He hums, as if he gets it. I'm sure he does. "I came out when I was nine."

"Yeah?"

He lays kisses across my skin, from one shoulder to the next, sending a little cascade of sparks down my spine. "Mm. My mom was browsing through a wedding magazine while we were waiting for an appointment. Doctor's, I think. She asked which wedding dress I thought was prettiest, and I told her it didn't matter because I'd never be marrying a girl."

He huffs a little, and my lips quirk into a smile. "What'd she say to that?" I ask.

I can practically feel him shaking his head. "She said, ‘And what if your future husband wants to wear a dress, Jackson Darling? What then?' She might as well have smacked me upside the head. She tsked , and I pointed to the dress I thought was prettiest. Then she gave me a big kiss on the top of my head, and that was that."

I chuckle, turning my face to the side as Jackson runs his thumb and forefinger up the back of my neck, pressing into the tendons there. He does it a few times before brushing my hair out of my face.

"Any better?" he asks.

"Yeah," I breathe. "Loads. Thank you."

He hums, easing back and making room for me to flip over. His eyes run down the dried mess on my torso as I turn.

"Hope you have spare sheets," I tell him. "And another pillow."

He grunts a little as he steps off the bed, the shifting of his ass as he walks away causing me to moan internally. "I'm not a Neanderthal," he calls from the hallway.

I huff a laugh, gingerly stepping down and following him. "No? My ex might disagree."

He groans. "We still on that?"

"Oh, we'll never be off that. Partner ."

Jackson throws a pillow at me as I round the corner into the hall. I laugh, catching it in midair as he heads toward me, a pile of white linens in his hands. He plucks the pillow from my grasp, sets it, with the sheets, inside his doorway, and then grabs the back of my neck in a loose hold.

"You. Me. Shower," he grunts, tugging me into the bathroom.

I laugh so hard I wheeze, and Jackson's scowl tips into a smile. I don't complain as he proceeds to direct me into the shower with grunts and clipped words. I let Jackson take care of me as we wash up. And once fresh sheets are on the bed, I let him convince me without words to stay.