Was He Real?

Does he own a remote to my fucking body or what? Because as soon as that sexy growl slipped out of his lips, I shattered. Completely. There was nothing left of me again. 

My back arched as a sensation spread through me. I stared up at the ceiling as that sensation grew harsh and cruel, swallowing me and making me tremble like a leaf. My mouth fell open, but not a single sound came out. It felt like I was falling, and falling, and when I finally landed, I was swallowed by Euphoria. 

So this was what an orgasm felt like…

Behind me, Jackson was a force to be reckoned with. He kept thrusting into me, drawing my climax out, and it felt like I was going to lose my damn mind if he didn't stop. 

“S-slow down,” I managed, my voice hoarse.

Jackson wasn't listening. I'm sure he couldn’t even hear me. 

“Siri, you’re squeezing me so bloody hard! Fuck, I’m going to cum. I’m going to cum, Siri!”

Were men always so… vocal? 

Michael was never vocal. 

He said it made them less than a man. 

But Jackson… Oh, Jackson wasn’t holding anything back. I think he was moaning louder than I was. And it was the sexiest sound I have ever heard in my damn life. His moans, his brutal thrusts, combined with his fingers still on my clit, my body didn't stand a chance, and I shattered a second time. This time even harder than the first. 

Jackson fell with me. 

“FUCK!” he bellowed as he buried himself to the very end, his dick pulsing in me, and then he came. 

His body shook behind me, his chest still pressed to my back. He let go of my clit, and wrapped his arms around my middle, holding me to him as he emptied himself in me. 

Good thing I was on birth control. Because with how much he was pouring in me… that would have resulted to something. 

His harsh moans turned to soft gasps as his dick pulsed in me, his arms loosening a bit around me. The room fell silent, and only our harsh breathing echoed off the walls. 

I could feel his heart racing on my back, and mine was just as fast. I felt Jackson soften in me, but he still didn't pull out. We stayed in that position even as our breathing steadied. He still held me, his head resting on the back of my back.

“Jackson…” I called out softly, my voice hoarse.

“Baby?” 

My heart skipped a beat. Weren’t men supposed to be bastards after they just came? Why was he still…

“Get off,” was what I wanted to say. Instead, I asked, “Do you even need those coffees in the evening?”

He stiffened behind me, but then he scoffed. “No.”

I knew it. “So why come then? Every day?”

He placed a soft kiss on the back of my neck that made me shiver. “Because then I get to see you in that uniform of yours, and think of all the ways I want to take it off you.”

I scoffed, even as my chest tightened. “You’re awful.”

“I am.”

“Can you get off me now?”

His arms tightened instead. “In a minute.”

I sighed even though my chest was warm from feeling his bare body against mine, and his soft dick still in me. “You’re such a needy baby.”

“For you, Siri, I will be anything.”

I froze completely, my eyes widening slightly. He felt the shift in me, and he pulled away softly, his dick slipping from me. This was stupid, I know, but I felt this strange… emptiness in me. 

“Uhm…” He cleared his throat. “You want to go wash up?” 

When I turned my head to look at him, he couldn't meet my eyes. I turned away.

“Sure.”

I tried to get on my feet, but my legs felt like jelly, and I couldn't get them to work. “Uhm, in a minute."

He scoffed softly. “I’ll carry you.” 

I shot him a look, refusing to acknowledge how he looked with his hair messy and those bedroom eyes. “Have you seen the size of me? How will you carry me up–” 

My words turned to a yelp as Jackson grabbed my thighs and lifted me without warning. Before I could fall backward, he shifted and grabbed my ass instead, both palms completely pressed to it, and I quickly wrapped my arms around his neck, locking my legs around his waist. 

Our chests were pressed together, our eyes fixed together.

“Yes, Siri,” he said softly as he walked without taking his eyes off me. “I’ve seen the size of you.”

Why… Why was this so sexy? Was I losing my damn mind? No matter how hard I willed it, my cheeks betrayed me, and they grew heated. I looked away, burying my face in his neck as he took the stairs up. 

Geez, I need to get my shit together. Sure, this was probably the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen a man do–the sex isn't included, of course–and this man looked like sin wrapped in silk, and his voice was a deep rumble, and he had such a lovely dick that he knew how to use, but I needed to get. My. Shit. Together!

I couldn't let this warm feeling in my chest grow more than this. I won’t. The sex was nice, but that’s all it should be: nice sex. 

He took me into his room, and I only raised my head and knew we were in this room because the scent hit me from all sides. I looked around, finally seeing a new side of Jackson. His room had this… boyish vibe, if you didn't look at the king-size bed with the silky sheets. Posters of different hockey stars hung almost everywhere. A little bookshelf. A hockey stick. And then in a glass case was a jersey with the number seven printed boldly on the back.

“Why is the jersey in a glass case?” I asked as he carried me into the bathroom. 

He placed me down gently, my feet hitting the cold tiles. His eyes were soft as he answered, “That was the jersey I was wearing when I won my first game.”

Ah, so it meant a lot to him. He reached behind me and turned on the shower. The water was already warm when it hit my skin. 

So this is what rich people enjoyed. 

He didn't look away from me as he reached for his soap, pouring out a generous amount on his hands, and then began to work it all over my body. I couldn't look away from him as he washed me like I was made of glass, and he didn't want a single crack on me.

When his hands moved to my hair, loosening my braid from the mess it had become, and he massaged my scalp gently while he washed it, I moaned softly. The smile that lifted his lips made my heart skip another stupid beat. 

This was just sex, Siri. Just sex. Just sex. 

He kicked my legs open with his thigh, and his hand moved low, between my legs where I was still sensitive. He didn't do anything, though; he just washed me without looking away from me, and I had to fight a moan every time his fingers brushed against my clit. 

It was too much. It was too much, and my brain felt fried. And my mouth just moved. 

“This is just sexual, you know, right?”