The throbbing between my legs escalated and I ground my center into him, stretching my dress even further. The sound of splitting seams echoed in my room.
Jackson’s hands left my hair, wandering down my shoulders to my breasts. He cupped them both and rolled his thumbs over my nipples, peaking them even through my clothes.
This seemed way beyond a simple make-out session, but I was definitely not complaining. A rush of nervous excitement sent my hopes soaring into the stars as one of his hands drifted lower, disappearing beneath my skirt.
“Do you want me to stop?” he panted against my lips. “Just say the word.”
“No.” I wrapped my arms behind his neck. “Touch me.”
The minute his fingers touched the soaking wet center of my panties, my sex clenched. My shoulders shivered and my eyes rolled into the back of my head.
Jackson’s fingers were a thousand times better than my own.
“More?” he whispered.
I nodded and one of his fingers slipped beneath the lace of my panties. It stroked through my folds twice before finding my clit.
“Jackson,” I gasped as he circled my bud. My hips slid deeper into his hand, needing more pressure.
The hand he had on my breast dropped to my skirt. His fingertips tickled my thighs as he slid it up toward my panties. With a rough tug, he yanked them to the side, making room for both of his hands.
I was so primed, he didn’t meet any resistance as he slipped a finger inside, curling it to stroke my inner walls. With his other hand, he swapped out a finger for the pad of his thumb to work my clit.
He was drowning me in ecstasy.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he whispered against my neck as his finger plunged in and out. His lips came to the soft spot beneath my ear, kissing it just as he added another finger. The stretch of them both was unbelievable.
If his fingers felt this way, having him inside me would be otherworldly. Judging by the bulge on his lap, he was big. Would he even fit?
That particular worry fell away as Jackson picked up the pace of his thumb. There wasn’t much space between us, but somehow, his strong arms and unbelievably capable hands fit right where they needed to be.
As the tension built higher, I let my hips rock back and forth as I held on to his shoulders for balance.
“That’s it, babe. Fuck my fingers.” His hoarse whisper made my core clench. “You like my dirty mouth, don’t you? Just wait until I use it instead of my fingers to make you come.”
“Yes,” I moaned, long and loud.
Jackson’s mouth latched onto my neck, sucking hard like he was trying to draw out my taste. The friction of his fingers and his hot, wet lips sent me spiraling higher until I was strung so tight, all I could do was snap.
My body shook as I came, my core squeezing Jackson’s fingers in hard pulses. My body jerked out of my control and white spots burst behind my eyelids. Pulse after pulse, the shocks ran through every muscle until I was limp and draped over Jackson’s chest.
When the aftershocks of my orgasm subsided, Jackson gently removed his fingers from my panties, righting them back into place. As the fabric settled over my sensitive clit, a ripple of shivers ran down my spine.
“You’re beautiful when you come,” Jackson whispered into my hair.
His comment would have embarrassed me on most days, but now, it just made me smile. I didn’t have the energy for embarrassment. “Thanks.”
With his hands on my hips, he shifted me down his thighs and off his erection with a groan.
My eyes shot open. “What about you? Should I . . .” I swallowed. “Do you want a hand job?”
Hand job? Turns out, I had plenty of energy left to be embarrassed, and I was never saying hand job again.
“No, that was just for you.” Jackson smiled as the heat crept up my cheeks. “Come here.”
He shifted on the couch, tossing up both of his legs so he was lying down. As he moved, he shifted my legs to one side, positioning me so I was tucked down his entire length.
I was trapped between his strong body and the back of the couch, lying on his chest.
Not a bad place to be stuck.
The skirt of my dress was still bunched up my thighs, so I wiggled it down. My gaze tracked down his body, his long legs hanging well over the other armrest.
“I need a bigger couch.”
“Nah. This one works just fine.”
I giggled, snuggling deeper into his side.
“Your hair is so soft.” With the arm underneath me, he toyed with a strand.
“So is yours.” I’d thought it would be spiky, but it felt more like velvet. “I like that you keep it short.”
“Me too. I hated it when Hazel first made me buzz it off, but then I got used to it. It’s actually a bit curly when it grows out.”
“Really?” I kind of wanted to see him with curls. “Why did Hazel make you cut it?”
“Lice,” he grumbled. “My whole foster home got it one year. I used the shampoo and shit to kill them, but Hazel didn’t want to take any chances that I’d pass them on to Thea. So she made me buzz it all off. After that, I never grew it back. It’s easier this way.”
Lice. Just the word made my scalp itch, but I resisted the urge. “That sounds awful.”
“It was. There was this little girl who lived with us at the time. She had this long, brown hair. It had the same kind of waves as yours. No matter how many times they shampooed her, they’d still find eggs so they made her chop it all off. I’ve never seen a person cry so hard.”
As a woman who loved her hair, my heart hurt for that little girl. “Poor thing.”
“I didn’t really get it at first. I thought it was just a girl thing to get so worked up over a haircut. But later she told me that her mother was getting out of jail soon and she was worried that without her hair, her mom wouldn’t recognize her to take her home.”
And now my heart broke for the little girl. “Did her mom come back for her?”
“Yeah. She got released a few months later and took the girl home. I always wondered if her mom stayed out of trouble.”
I dropped my cheek back onto his chest. “I hope she did. For the girl’s sake.”
“Me too, babe.”
Babe. He’d called me babe earlier, right before I’d come. Maybe it wasn’t so bad.
Maybe it was actually kind of perfect.
“That one. Babe. I think I like it now.”
“Thank god.” He laughed. “I was running out of options.”
“So how’s it going with Jackson?” Mom asked before taking a bite of her salad.
“Good.” Wonderful.
It had been two weeks since Jackson and I had had our first date and I was simply floating. Things between us were just so . . . easy. We fit seamlessly into each other’s lives like there’d been an empty space all along, just waiting for the other person to fill.
Jackson would come to the camp every morning with my favorite coffee. We’d chat in the kitchen with Hazel or take a stroll together outside until I had to get back to work. Then he’d go do his thing during the day while I worked.
After I left the camp, I’d go and sit with him at the bar. I’d become a regular, just like Wayne and Ronny. I’d stay until closing, then help him close down before driving him home.
On the nights Thea was at the bar and he was free, he’d come over to my place and let me cook him dinner. Afterward, we’d spend hours making out on the couch and fooling around.
He never let it go too far, but things were definitely progressing. He’d touched every inch of my skin, testing which spots drove me wild. And I was learning exactly what it felt like to touch a man.
I blushed just thinking about the sound of his deep, throaty groan as he’d come in my hand last night. It was the most intense moment we’d shared. My hand on him. His fingers in me.
“Oh, Willa.” Mom laughed. “I can practically see your thoughts. Just be safe as you play with his naked body.”
“Mom.” I choked on my bite of lettuce. “Seriously? Can we not talk about that, um . . . stuff at dinner?” Or in front of Dad?
He was sitting across from me, shaking his head. The expression on his face was pure torture, like Mom had just shoved bamboo shards up his fingernails.