Chapter 11

11

HARPER

“ I can’t believe you’re making me wake up at this hour,” I whine with an angry stomp of my feet.

Jackson just chuckles good-naturedly while loading our suitcases into the back of his G-Wagon. “You’ll be thankful when we arrive in Alpharetta by noon instead of in the evening because of the shitty traffic. Now climb into the passenger seat, punk.”

Despite the order directed at me, Jackson firmly closes the trunk, then gently guides me toward the passenger side with a warm hand at the small of my back. The car is already started, and the heated leather seats turned all the way up. I snuggle into the warmth of the seats, only to laugh when Jackson reappears, holding a cozy faux fur blanket. He tucks it around me until I’m in a blanket burrito.

I raise one eyebrow. “Thanks, Daddy.”

Jackson growls, then presses a hard kiss to my forehead. “You’re insufferable.”

“At this point, I’m starting to think you really like it.”

Jackson slams the door shut with a forced laugh. Honey whines in the back seat as she fights to get comfortable. Every drop of blood in my body sizzles when Jackson brings a blanket around for Honey, gently murmuring to her as he tucks it around her and promptly fucking buckles her into a safety harness. A seat belt for my dog. Honey blinks up at Jackson, tongue lolling out of her mouth, just before she swipes it over his face. Jackson chuckles sweetly and pats her side.

When Jackson climbs into the driver's seat, I can’t help but lean over to kiss him. Surprise freezes him for only a second until his fingers tangle in my hair to tug me closer. His tongue swipes into my mouth, sending heat rushing through my body. Jackson pulls away from me slightly, his breath ghosting over my face with each panting breath.

“What was that for?” Jackson asks, tone unbelievably low.

I nuzzle against his nose, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips. “Thank you for taking care of Honey.”

I can’t thank him for taking care of me, so that’ll have to be enough. Jackson seemingly understands because his eyes quickly flick to Honey, then right back to me. His eyes are always so warm, so impossibly understanding as if maybe he can see right into the deepest, darkest depths of me. If there’s anyone on the earth who has a straight line to how my brain works and how my heart works, it’s Jackson Harris.

“Let’s get on the road. I have a surprise for you once we arrive in Alpharetta.”

“A surprise!” I mock gasp, snuggling back into the warm seat.

Jackson pulls out of the driveway, steering one-handed so he can rest the other on my thigh under the blanket. His touch calms me like always.

“I think you’ll like it. You want the ballad station again?”

“Let’s do pop hits.”

Jackson flicks his thumb on the wheel, landing on the pop-hit station. The drive rolls by as I sing loudly, mostly hoping to make Jackson laugh. A few times he joins in, his voice a low, sweet timbre. We hop out a few times for bathroom breaks at rest stops. At the final rest stop just an hour from Alpharetta, Jackson ushers Honey over to the grass for her to do her business. Once she’s done, Jackson runs around with her to get some of her energy out.

And for one brief moment, I wonder what it would be like to keep him. Me and him in twenty years, a few kids, and another service dog to fill our home. But then I think about five seizures a year, feeling more and more like a burden with each one, and the beautiful fantasy vanishes into a plume of painful smoke.

Jackson ushers Honey back into the car, then jumps into the driver’s seat with a wide grin. God, he’s so fucking beautiful. Right now, he’s mine; that’s all I can focus on. For the moment, Jackson’s mine to keep, to love, to kiss. That’ll be enough.

Finally, after what feels like forever, we roll into Alpharetta. The city reminds me so much of home. Small-town vibes. Jackson turns into a gated community full of ostentatious houses. He pulls into the driveway of a light-stone-colored behemoth of a house. This is not remotely what I expected from his parents.

“Is this your parents' place?”

Jackson snorts. “That’s my house, punk.”

My jaw drops as Jackson slams his door shut. He lets Honey out the back, and she instantly has the zoomies in the front yard. Stuck in a daze at his words, I let him guide me inside, although my feet feel heavy. Nothing about this house says Jackson. The inside is impersonal, although decorated beautifully. It’s just nothing like the sweet, warm Jackson I’ve come to know.

“Bedroom is this way,” Jackson calls over his shoulder.

I bundle the blanket from the car up tight in my arms and follow him up the stairs in a daze. Honey darts ahead of us, tail wagging as she patiently waits to follow Jackson to the correct room. His bedroom is at the end of a long marble hallway, and it’s just as impersonal as everything else in this large house.

A large, four-poster canopy bed sits against the wall with windows that overlook the wooded backyard. I wander over to the floor-to-ceiling windows, heart pounding out of my chest.

I’m in Jackson’s bedroom.

I’m going to meet his parents.

He’s definitely going to fuck me soon.

Jesus.

“Harper?” Jackson says from right behind me.

“You never call me Harp,” I point out, feeling a little dizzy with all the new developments.

“You don’t seem to like it.”

I sharply turn around to stare at him, taking in the width and breadth of him. Tension crackles in the air as he stares unblinking back at me, hands carefully tucked into the pockets of his jeans as if to stop himself from reaching out. Jackson always waits for me to give a signal that I want to be touched, always seemingly afraid to cross some boundary that I’ve unintentionally drawn.

“I don’t like the nickname Harp…” I admit quietly, a secret between us.

Jackson smiles softly, knowing in his gaze. “I know, Harper.”

“Why’d you bring me here?”

Jackson shrugs nonchalantly. “I have this vision of fucking you in my bed, then up against those windows.” He nods towards the windows as my mouth dries. “Maybe in the bathroom, too. I want to fuck you in every inch of this house. Then I’ll take you back home to your house in Clay Springs and fuck you in every room there too. Until you can’t lie to yourself anymore about what this means to both of us.”

My breath stutters painfully in my chest, caught between my ribs. Without even realizing it, I cross the space between us, until the tips of my toes line up with his. I have to tilt my head to hold his gaze, breath still not going into my lungs.

“What does this mean to both of us?” I ask, voice more confident than I expected.

A bittersweet smile inches across Jackson’s lips while he brushes the hair from my face. His fingers skim down the length of my hair, eyes lingering on where the strands get caught between his fingers.

“Harper, this means everything. Don’t you know?”

I close my eyes against the urge to weep, to scream, to bang my hands against his chest in rage. I’ve spent so long holding everyone at a distance, feeling like a burden, feeling like a useless waste of space. Now, here’s this man acting like the sun rises and sets with me. I’m supposed to deny myself this? Impossible. I can’t, and I won’t.

“I know, Jackson,” I say quietly. “I know. I’ve never had someone want me like you do before. I don’t know how to handle it, okay? You terrify me.”

Jackson wraps a steadying arm around me. I lean against him, inhaling the strong scent, which is just so Jackson. The scent that I always pray lingers on my pillows when he’s gone, the scent that reminds me of strength and hope and life . He makes me feel alive after a life spent going through the motions. The feelings inside me are inching closer and closer to a four-letter word that I’m absolutely terrified to say out loud.

“You’re insane to want me,” I murmur helplessly against his chest.

Jackson’s answering chuckle vibrates right through me. He tangles his fingers in the hair at the nape of my neck, tugging to get me to look up at him. “I’m perfectly sane, and you’re very easy to want. Are you tired from the drive? Need a nap?”

I wiggle my eyebrows. “You could fuck me.”

Jackson tugs at my hair until my throat is bared for him. He dips down to nip at the sensitive skin, murmuring indecipherable words against my skin as he does.

“I’ll fuck you tonight,” Jackson finally says, words dripping with intent.

“Yeah?” I ask dreamily.

“Mhmm.” Jackson pulls back to kiss me, eating at my mouth like I’m the best thing he’s ever tasted. All I can do is hold on. Just when my dick gets interested, Jackson pulls away, tenderly swiping his thumb across my lower lip. “I’ll fuck you tonight, and you’ll finally learn what calling me Daddy means.”

“Super sure of yourself there, bucko.”

Jackson’s eyes twinkle as if delighted with my inability to be serious. “I’m confident in at least that one skill.”

The reminder of his experience rankles me for only a moment, until it burns into just a soft annoyance.

“When are we meeting your parents?”

“Thanksgiving. I want to spend a few days spoiling you, showing you around Atlanta, having my way with you.”

Warmth blooms in my belly, but I keep my face blank. “Provide some details. I might veto some of it.”

Jackson hums softly, the pads of his fingers massaging the nape of my neck. His fingers are magic, calming me when I’d normally be tensing up. The man is pure magic. Everything about him.

Jackson arches an eyebrow. “Ever been to a hockey game?”

I snort at the idea. “Do I look like I’ve seen a hockey game?”

“Appearances can be deceiving. I have a friend who plays for a team, and he has a game on Tuesday. Maybe we’ll go.”

“Well, if it’s after you fuck me, you better get the most comfortable seats in the world.”

Jackson’s laugh is so loud, so booming, that I have to turn my head to fight back my own answering grin. He shows me around his house, pointing out guest rooms and an office that’s covered with photos inside. He tries to lead me away, but I step inside because I’m nosy before I’m anything else. Photos of Jackson with young men in basketball gear dot the walls. In most of the photos, he’s dressed down in workout gear with a whistle around his neck.

I look over my shoulder at a seemingly shy Jackson. “Coach Daddy?”

Jackson scoffs. “Coach Harris.” He steps forward to stand beside me, gazing fondly at the photos. “After the injury, I took up volunteering in the city for kids who don’t have figures like me in their lives. Solid people that are there for them.”

“And you probably donate not just your time, but money as well, right?”

Jackson smiles softly as his gaze dips down to mine. “You know me too well already.”

“Maybe,” I say with a shrug. “You should be proud of this. It’s an important thing that you do for the people you help. It's one of the reasons…” I clear my throat awkwardly. “One of the things I like best about you.”

“This kind of reminds me of something else I want to talk to you about.”

“Oh?”

Jackson turns serious, hands dipping into his pockets. “That feeling you get when you walk into a room and feel like everyone’s waiting for you to have a seizure? Like everyone is watching you? I know that feeling better than anyone else. I’m large and Black; sometimes, I walk into a room and feel like everyone is afraid of me just because I’m me . It’s different, but it’s the same.”

I swallow hard at the emotion his words carry. It’s so easy to look at Jackson and just see someone so perfectly together; no cares in the world. But I’m slowly learning that the depth inside Jackson is what is making me slowly, and all at once, fall for him. The kids he helps. The way he cares for me. He’s beautiful inside and out.

“Do you feel that way in Clay Springs?”

Jackson shakes his head slowly. “Not as much as I expected. But also, sometimes, Harper, people aren’t going to like us together. It’s a possibility. One you should be prepared for when the time comes. Okay?”

“Well, fuck them.”

Jackson’s eyebrows furrow for a moment, and he smiles softly, inching up his lips. He ducks down to kiss me, soft and slow, and I fight against the urge to tug him down closer so that I can kiss him the way I really want. When he pulls away, that odd look is back, almost as if I’ve surprised him again.

“Thank you, Harper.”

I blink slowly at him. “For what?”

“Being you.”

Jackson tangles his fingers with mine to continue showing me the rest of the house. There’s even a small basketball court on the first floor. Honey once again gets the zoomies after the hours spent in the car, but this time, she slips and slides all over the black linoleum floor.

I grab a basketball off the rack at the end of the court. “One-on-one?”

Jackson spins in the middle of the court with a dazed look in his eye. His eyes flit from the ball and up to my eyes. For a brief moment, there’s a flash of pain in his gaze that tears my heart up. Gym was a class I barely passed in high school. The seizure excuse got me out of playing most sports, but basketball was one I never minded. At least until the guys got so competitive and gross that having the redheaded seizure twink on the team was no longer a novelty and more of an annoyance.

Jackson holds his hands out, wiggling his fingers in a signal for me to give him the ball. Fat chance. I run past him and jump at the free-throw line, grinning wildly when the ball swoops easily through the net.

“Would you believe me if I said that was pure luck?” I say with a half grimace, half smile.

“Absolutely not.” Jackson’s shoulders tremble with a laugh. “Where did that come from?”

“I contain multitudes.”

“Sure you do, punk. Show me again.”

I grab the ball from the floor and jog over to stand at the free-throw line again. This time, I half-ass it, but still, the ball makes it through the hoop, even after hugging the rim for a second. Jackson comes to stand beside me, both hands on his hips.

“Do you miss it?” I ask softly, not wanting to upset him.

Jackson swallows, throat bobbing hard. “More than I can describe. I miss the dream too, but dreams change.”

“For what it’s worth… I totally would’ve bought your jersey.”

Jackson laughs lightly and spins to look down at me. “That’s an idea. I have a few jerseys left over; I could put you in one.”

I dip down to grab the ball that came to a stop at my feet. Tossing it back and forth in my hands, I grin up at Jackson. “Just a little one-on-one? Low impact on your knee. We can play horse!”

Jackson does a mix between a sigh and a laugh that I find absolutely adorable. I dribble the ball around him, trying to make him dizzy, until he swoops easily around me to steal the ball. I stand frozen in the middle of the court as he shoots and makes it, his hand still raised in the air for one singular second before slowly lowering back to his side.

Suddenly, my heart aches for him. Honey comes to a skidding halt in front of Jackson, yipping in request for him to play with her. Jackson falls softly to his knees and buries his face in her golden fur, the picture of a man defeated. Consoling people isn’t something I have much experience with, but I need to learn if I want to love Jackson right.

Love.

Hell.

“Jackson,” I say softly, running my hand along his slumped shoulders.

He keeps his head buried in Honey’s fur for a long moment, then lifts his teary gaze to mine. “Sorry.”

“Hey.” I drop to my knees with an awkward laugh. Pressing a kiss to his forehead, I squeeze the nape of his neck with what I hope feels like reassurance. “New dreams, right?”

“Yeah,” Jackson mumbles.

“Come on, Daddy. Let’s see what food options there are around this place. I want to eat, get fucked, then sleep for a million years. Sound good?”

Vulnerability from Jackson is rare, but I’m going to hold on to him so he knows it’s fine. He’s safe with me. I hold his hand tightly as I guide us back towards the kitchen. The fridge is full of food because Jackson thinks of everything, and he must’ve had someone stock the place before we arrived.

“Salmon?” I ask as I stare into the fully stocked fridge.

“Sure, I didn’t know you could cook,” Jackson says tiredly, folding himself into a chair at the island.

“I love to cook, but I just have to be practical, so I rarely do. Imagine if I’m cooking at the stove, have a seizure, and then the house burns down around me. Not practical at all.”

“Don’t you get warning signs for a seizure? Wouldn’t you have enough time?”

My nose twitches at the thought. Yes, I tend to get an aura that’s enough of a warning sign that I could theoretically keep the oven on and cook. But years of my mother helicopter parenting me, acting like I was one fuckup away from accidental death, well, it’s hard to break the habit.

“I do, I get auras. But I just don’t use the oven out of habit.”

Jackson leans against the island, keenly watching me turn on the gas stove. “So, how’d you learn?”

“Cindy taught me. Beau’s mom.”

“Not your own?”

A laugh bubbles out of me. “No, not my mother. She’s fine. My parents are perfectly fine people. But they’re both attorneys who work extremely long hours. Sometimes, I’m not sure why they even adopted me.”

Jackson’s head cocks to the side. “You’re adopted?”

I spread some olive oil on a cookie sheet, delicately placing the salmon filets on it, then sprinkle it with spices and lemon. Grabbing rice pilaf from the pantry, I get it simmering on the stovetop.

“Yes, I was adopted,” I admit around a lump in my throat.

“I didn’t know that.”

“I don’t talk about it much. My biological mother was a teen when she had me, couldn’t give me the future she wanted, so she gave me up in a private adoption to my parents.”

“Do you know your mother?” Jackson asks, tone carefully neutral.

“We had a closed adoption. I only know the details my parents have shared with me. I don’t know much about my father. Just that he was young, too.”

I set a timer on the oven, then walk around the island to stand beside Jackson. He wraps an arm around me and tugs me between his thighs. Dancing my fingers across his shoulder, I press my thumb against the tense line of his neck until he moans at my touch.

“Feels good,” Jackson slurs, eyes drifting closed.

I’m going to feed him and then put him to bed. Sex or no sex, I don’t care. I just need to get him into a bed where he can relax, considering he made the eight-hour drive all by himself.

Jackson’s skin is hot beneath my perpetually cold fingers, warming me from the outside in. His eyes close in bliss as I carefully work at the tension in his neck. I press a kiss against his cheek, needing to shower him with love like he always does me. A small, private smile, just for me, tips up the corners of his mouth.

Pulling away when the timer goes off is a form of torture. Jackson slumps against the island, idly patting at Honey’s head, where she lovingly sits on her haunches at his side. We eat in comfortable silence. The soft, early light of dusk filters through the back windows, shining on all the beauty of Jackson’s backyard. I try to imagine a life here with him, but can’t picture it at all. Picturing him back at my house in Clay Springs, older, with crinkles at the edges of his eyes, is beyond easy. He’ll have laugh lines that I put there because I’m so wildly witty.

Once we’re both done with our meals, I hurriedly clean up the kitchen. Jackson lets me undress him without a word, then tuck him into the large bed. Honey curls up at his feet, and I join them without a word. Sleep takes a while to come for me; only when I tuck my face in the crook of Jackson’s warm neck does sleep take me into her arms.

The absence of Jackson from the bed startles me awake. Even in sleep, my body is used to his calming presence. Honey has also disappeared from the bed, sending my heart racing through my chest. I scramble for my phone, slapping wildly at it to read the time. Just nine in the evening. We only got a handful of hours of restful sleep.

Just when I really start to get alarmed, Jackson strides out of the bathroom, skin dewy from a shower. His grin is devilish when he catches sight of me rumpled in his bed.

“Hello,” Jackson drawls, eyes intense and bright.

“Hi,” I squeak.

“I believe we had a deal before I fell asleep.”

“Oh.” Real suave, Harper.

“Still up for it?”

I look around the room, seeking out Honey. “Where’s Honey?”

His head dips towards the door. “She’s on the first floor with a rawhide and last year's puppy bowl streaming.”

“Oh,” I repeat like a real loser.

Jackson puts one knee on the side of the bed to lean over me. I breathe in a lungful of his clean scent, allowing it to suffuse through me to settle my nerves. Jackson’s eyes flit between mine, seemingly searching for something in them. His fingers tip my chin up so that he can give me a soft, tender kiss. All my nerves melt away under the onslaught of his sweet lips, the tentative touch of his tongue against my own.

“I want to fuck you so bad, Harper.” The words are a poem against my mouth, sweet and sultry.

“I want that too.” I lean up so he’s forced to stand back up. “I need a few minutes in the bathroom.”

Jackson lets me go without an argument, for which I’m grateful. Nerves send anxious butterflies to flight in my chest. Deep breathing only works until I realize we’re really about to do this. I’m going to finish all the prep, walk through that door, and have penetrative sex for the first time.

Sex isn’t something I’ve been saving; it’s just something I never entertained doing with someone. The thought never once crossed my mind. One-night stands are a hazard for someone with epilepsy. The list of things that could go wrong is a mile long. I’ve never let someone close enough to me to even entertain getting this far. Somehow, Jackson made it through, and here we are.

I stare at myself in the mirror, the freckles, the scar, the messy auburn hair. Jackson looks at me and wants me after all the experience he has. It’s hard to believe that… he could want me. Maybe after tonight, he’ll realize I’m not worth the pain. Not worth the trouble. I close my eyes tight to stop the thoughts of comparing myself to his previous lovers, his clients.

Soft music plays from speakers in the ceiling when I step through the bathroom. Naked as sin, Jackson lies back on the bed, hands tucked behind his head. At the sight of me naked, his head tilts to the side, tongue peeking out to lick at his lips. His lips curl in a wicked smirk, wiggling his fingers in a come-hither motion. I watch transfixed when he grips his cock tight, letting out a groan as I step closer. Jesus. I have that effect on him? Me?

Because I’m gangly and clumsy, I almost trip walking towards the bed. Jackson’s not an asshole, so thankfully, he ignores it. I climb into bed with him, eternally grateful when he wraps a hand around my neck to bring me down for a firm kiss. His thumb tugs my jaw open so he can lick further into my mouth, his tongue searching out every morsel of me it can get. A violent shiver rolls through me, just from his lips sliding across mine.

“Come here,” Jackson murmurs against my mouth.

His large hands splay over my hips, easily lifting me to straddle his lap. My heart pounds so violently in my chest it must be visible from space. Jackson shushes me softly and runs his hands up the expanse of my ribs, coming up to cup my face between his overheated palms.

“I was tested a few weeks ago. Your safety matters more to me than anything in this world. If you want a condom, that’s what we’ll do. If you don’t want one, then know you’re safe. Everything about tonight is up to you.”

Red-hot desire sweeps through me at the idea of him fucking me without a condom, his cum inside me. Jesus. My fingers dig into his chest, leaving half-moon indents from my nails. Jackson’s grin turns feral, teeth flashing in the soft light of his bedroom.

“Oh… Harper. You dirty boy. Do you want Daddy to fuck you without a condom? Fill you up with my cum until you’re bursting?”

A whimper escapes me, and I dive down to kiss him again, needing his words in my mouth. His arms wrap around me, easily flipping us over until he hovers over me, all the while kissing me like the world would end if he stopped for even a moment. Every swipe of his tongue against mine steals my breath, ratcheting up the desire slowly inching towards a crescendo inside me. How this beautiful man could want me will never make sense to my tiny little lizard brain.

Jackson slowly lowers his body until our cocks line up. The heat of him, the weight of him, just Jackson being Jackson about does me in. I hurriedly wrap my legs around his waist, arching up to meet him thrust for thrust as his tongue plunders my mouth. At the touch of his finger to my entrance, I keen wildly, breaking from his mouth to gasp for air.

“Fuck me,” I beg, voice strained even to my own ears. “Please, Jackson. I swear to God, I’ve never wanted anything more in my life. Just you, inside me.”

“Shhhhhh.” Jackson kisses me into silence again, the entire time working his finger inside. I bear down to make it easier for him to get lube into me. He kisses me the entire time, slowly moving his finger until my eyes are rolling with the ecstasy of his touch. Only two fingers have me gasping and grabbing at his shoulders. I need more.

He pulls away from my mouth to stare deeply into my eyes, lips just a breath away from mine. “I’ll be inside you soon. I promise, Harper. Trust me, always.”

My legs tremble around his hips as he rubs relentlessly at my prostate. Pressure builds at the base of my spine in the telltale sign of an approaching orgasm. I press my hand against his head and shove him away roughly with a snarl.

“You’re going to make me come, you fucking asshole. If you don’t quit playing around and fuck me right now, this entire goddamn party is going to be over.”

Jackson chuckles and playfully nips at my fingers, but he listens all the same. Withdrawing his fingers from me, he bends my knees toward me. “Hold your legs here so you’re open for me. Do it.”

The ability to argue has suddenly fled my entire being. I do as he says and hold my legs up, hungrily watching as he strokes a generous amount of lube onto his scarily huge dick. Seriously. The thing is bigger than most of my toys. A brief moment of panic hits me at the idea of his cock not fitting or even alternatively causing me pain. But I trust in Jackson, and I know he’d never purposefully cause me pain.

Jackson grabs my thighs and roughly shoves them higher up until he can fit himself between them, hovering over me with one elbow beside my head. The head of his cock notches against my hole, stealing every molecule of air from my lungs. His hand tangles in my hair again, tugging until I lift my gaze to his.

“Watch me while I fuck you,” Jackson orders just as he presses into me.

For one brief moment, it hurts, but then I breathe and relax, bearing down against him. It might be my first time getting fucked by a person, but I’ve fucked myself enough to remember how it goes. Jackson slowly slides home, holding my gaze the entire time. My world cracks into a splintered million pieces only to reform when he bottoms out inside me.

“Made for me,” Jackson murmurs just before kissing me again.

I loop my arms around his neck, using the leverage to thrust my hips up. Jackson slides deeper into me, and I grin against his mouth. Sucking his bottom lip between mine, I use my heels to spur him on faster.

“You can do better than this,” I point out with an air of disapproval.

“Do you have pointers?”

Tilting my head back against the pillows, I bite back a whimper when he rolls his hips. “Maybe you should…” I arch my back when he hits my prostate, sending tingles of pleasure rolling through my body. “You should…”

Oh God. I’m not going to ever finish a sentence while he’s fucking me. Jackson’s grin is wide and knowing as he leans up on his hands over me, rolling his hips so that he’s grinding inside instead of thrusting. My eyes roll back in my head at the feel of him, hot and hard inside me. He swivels his hips in a circle, pulling a deep moan from the very pit of my stomach.

“Jackson,” I whimper.

“We’re getting closer.”

“I want to ride you, roll over.”

Jackson pauses, his eyes wide as he stares down at me. “What?”

I slap his chest hard. “You heard me. Roll over.”

Jackson stares until I slap his chest again, spurring him into action. I yelp when he rolls over, still inside me. Straddling him sends him deeper, and I lean forward with my hands pressed to his chest, gasping at the intensity of the feeling. I can feel him in my throat, in my heart, fucking everywhere.

Jackson palms my hips. “I can teach you to ride.”

And then he does. Jackson squeezes my hips in his large palms and lifts me up, showing me how to ride him. The motion is unfamiliar and new, but it’s kind of like riding a bike. Once I get the motion down, it’s easy to repeat. I swivel my hips when his groin is flush against my ass, mostly grinding. His fingers dig hard into my hips, and his chest heaves as I repeat the movement.

This position feels great but not as earth-shattering as him hovering over me. I stop mid-roll of my hips and stare down at him.

“This is a lot of work,” I say with a pout.

Jackson flips us over again, his cock pressing hard against my prostate. Stars light up my vision, and I grip his shoulders tightly. He repeats the movement over and over until I’m a trembling, silent mess beneath him.

“Lick my hand,” Jackson orders, holding his hand in front of me.

Wordlessly, I comply. He groans at the feel of my tongue, then promptly wraps it around my cock. My eyes roll back into my head again as I move my hips to meet his hard thrusts, torn between delirious ecstasy and annoyance that this is going to be over far too soon. His hand grips my cock tight, thumb rolling across the head on each swipe up. I arch my back to take him deeper, needing him to be as far inside me as he can when he comes. God, I wish I had a plug so I could keep his cum forever. Maybe he has one.

“Do you have a butt plug?” I ask against his shoulder, biting at the tense muscle under my lips.

“Fuck, Harper, Jesus Christ.” His hips stutter, and heat floods me as he comes. Oh. I wish I could feel that forever, the heat of him spreading through me, leaking out around his cock.

His mouth slams onto mine as he keeps thrusting despite his orgasm. That’s unexpected. His grip on my cock tightens, and his strokes speed up. The pleasure is insurmountable, blinding as it rolls through me. My orgasm slams into me, freezing every muscle and my brain.

“Jackson,” I whimper against his neck, legs trembling around his still-rolling hips. The intensity of the orgasm washes over me. Waves of pleasure keep coming as Jackson strokes my oversensitive cock.

Jackson pulls out just to crawl down my body. He shoves three fingers inside me, then swallows my cock down. What the fuck? There’s no way I can come again so fast. It’s impossible. Jackson seems to want to prove my body wrong, though, because he slides his mouth over my cock, moans of pleasure slipping out of him. He pegs my prostate over and over, making my toes tingle and stealing the breath from my lungs. Legs trembling around his shoulders, a second orgasm sneaks up on me. The air painfully catches in my lungs.

I grab his head between my hands and hold on as he wrings a second orgasm from me. Thrusting up into his warm, welcoming mouth, I blindly cup the back of his neck. Fuck. This time my orgasm is borderline violent, blackening my vision and tightening all my muscles.

“Daddy,” I cry out, unable to hold it back anymore.

Jackson hums long and low around my cock, swallowing down every ounce of my cum. My arms fall to my sides as I blink up at the ceiling in a post-orgasmic haze. Jackson flutters kisses across my thighs, my stomach, and up my chest as he comes up to kiss me.

His kiss returns air to my lungs, giving me life again. After a few minutes of lazy kissing, Jackson pulls away with a soft chuckle. He rolls over and brings me with him out of the wet spot on the right side of the bed.

“You’re extraordinary,” Jackson says, brushing my matted hair from my face.

“The best you’ve ever had,” I reply sarcastically.

Jackson stares deeply into my eyes with a small smile. “Harper, you’ve no idea. I’m going to keep you forever. Don’t you know?”

“Well, you can’t fuck and run now, so I guess it’s forever.”

Jackson sighs and pulls me tighter against him, sweetly tucking my head against his sweaty chest. “One day you’ll get it.”

“Maybe,” I whisper, not wanting him to hear me.

We lie there for a while, basking in the afterglow of our lovemaking, until the mess gets to be too much. Jackson hustles me like a man on a mission into the warm shower. He tenderly washes my body, lingering on every inch of skin he can find. The little kisses he leaves behind will be tattooed on my body for life. My body belongs to him forever, whether I want to admit it to myself or not.

Once we rinse off from the shower, Jackson uses a fluffy towel to dry both of us. I stand yawning at the edge of the bed as he quickly changes the sheets. When I finally lie back down, my eyes are heavy with tiredness and from the exhaustion of the orgasm. Jackson opens the bedroom door and whistles, inviting Honey back into the room. He climbs into the bed, tugging me into his arms, just in time for Honey to settle at the foot of the bed between our legs.

“Sometimes I think I dreamt you,” I whisper into Jackson’s still-shower-warm skin.

“I think the same thing,” Jackson admits.

“Maybe we dreamed each other up.”

Jackson presses a lingering kiss to my temple. “I believe it. You’re hard to explain otherwise.”

“Why would you dream up such a sassy twink?”

Jackson’s chest vibrates with his laughter, and I smirk against his skin, pressing a kiss just above his heart. We fall asleep that way, tangled up together, comfortable in the knowledge that we’re each other's dreams.