Ama and Jackson

Chapter 1

**Ama’s POV**

“Ahh… fuck…”

The soft, broken moan slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it. My bedroom was quiet except for the wet sounds of my fingers moving between my legs and the creak of the mattress under me. I was alone because I just watched my brother and his best friend leave.My legs were spread wide open, knees bent, feet flat on the sheets, I had my eyes squeezed tightly shut. My left hand gripped the pillow beside my head while my right hand worked furiously between my thighs.

Two fingers were already buried deep inside my pussy, pumping in and out with short, violent strokes. Every time I pushed them in, my wrist twisted slightly so the tips dragged against that swollen spot that made my stomach clench. My thumb stayed pressed hard against my clit, rubbing tight, fast circles that sent sharp sparks up my spine. I was soaked. The sheets under my ass were already damp. Every time I pulled my fingers out, they came away shiny and sticky before I shoved them back in again.

I bit down on my lower lip, trying to stay quiet, but another moan still escaped. “Mmm… shit…” My hips started rolling on their own, lifting off the bed to meet my hand. The wet sounds got louder—obscene little squelches every time my fingers plunged back inside. I could feel how swollen my pussy lips were, how they parted easily around my knuckles. My clit was so sensitive that every brush of my thumb made my thighs jump.

I kept my eyes closed and let the fantasy take over. In my head it wasn’t my own fingers. It was Jackson’s. Thick, rough from gripping steering wheels, the same hands that always looked so strong when he wiped sweat off his face after a race. I imagined him standing between my spread legs, staring down at me while he fucked me with those fingers, that arrogant half-smile on his face. The same smile that made me want to slap him and sit on it at the same time.

My breathing got heavier. I added a third finger, stretching myself open, and the burn made me gasp. “Ahh—fuck, yes…” My free hand left the pillow and slid up under my tank top, pinching one nipple hard, then the other.

I worked my hand faster. The heel of my palm ground against my clit while my fingers curled and pumped. My toes curled into the sheets. My thighs started to shake. I was close already, the pressure building low in my belly like a knot being pulled tighter and tighter.

“Jackson…” I whispered his name without meaning to, hips bucking up into my own touch. The mattress creaked louder. I could feel the orgasm starting to crest—heat flooding up my chest, thighs locking, pussy clenching tight around my fingers.

Then suddenly...

The door swung open.

“Hello, dushface… shit.”

My eyes flew open. Jackson stood in the doorway.

“Ah—!” I scrambled for the bedsheet, yanking it up over my bare body, face burning with pure embarrassment. My fingers were still shiny. My legs were still open under the sheet. My heart slammed against my ribs so hard I could hear it.

Jackson. My brother’s annoying best friend. Everyone knew we never got along. He was arrogant, always hanging around bars, always with some new girl on his arm. And he loved calling me “dushface” just to watch me want to crawl out of my skin. We argued every single time we were in the same room.

What nobody knew was that I secretly imagined fucking him. That I kept one of his sweat-soaked towels from the racetrack hidden under my pillow. That more than once I’d gone into the lounge after a race, picked up the jacket he’d left behind, pressed it to my face and inhaled like an addict. His scent made me weak. Made me touch myself the way I had just been touching myself.

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Jackson’s eyes dragged slowly over the shape of me under the sheet. He could probably still see the flush on my chest, the way my breathing hadn’t slowed down yet.

“What were you just doing?” he asked, voice low.

Then he laughed—loud.His hand over his mouth, shoulders shaking like he’d just walked into the funniest thing of his life.

“Get lost!!” I snapped, clutching the sheet tighter against my body. My pussy was still throbbing, empty and wet and furious about being interrupted.

He just shrugged, still grinning. “Okay. I could just go tell your brother what I just saw.” He turned toward the door like it was nothing, like he hadn’t just watched me with my fingers inside myself.

Panic shot through me. I threw the sheet aside and lunged, grabbing his wrist with both hands.

“Wait—”

In one sudden move he spun, yanked me forward, and slammed my back against the wall. The impact knocked the air from my lungs. I didn’t know he was that strong. My head was spinning. His face was right there, so close I could feel his warm breath against my mouth.

His hand slid down, gripped my bare ass hard, then moved lower. Fingers found me already soaked—still dripping from what I’d been doing alone. He stroked slowly through my wetness, spreading it around, before pushing two thick fingers inside me without warning.

“Ahh…” I moaned softly, biting down hard on my lower lip. My walls clenched around him immediately.

He kissed the side of my neck, slow and open-mouthed, then brought his lips to my ear.

“I don’t kiss and tell,” he whispered, voice rough. “If you want more of this… Tomorrow night 9pm ,meet me at the Alibi rooftop.”