Failure to Match: Chapter 28

I dropped Toebeans off at his palace, lingering for long enough that it was probably suspicious. But I needed the space to think.

As it turned out, my receiving love language was very, very, very much acts of service. My heart was so inflated, so full of air and sparks and fireflies and warmth and… and… a lot of other things that were triggering all my internal alarms. I really needed to gather my thoughts and remind myself of a few cold, hard facts.

A part of me hoped Jackson wouldn’t be there when I got back to my suite. A much larger, much more prominent part of me soared when I found him on the couch, scrolling through his phone.

“You’re being very confusing,” I accused, storming inside.

He cocked his head. “How so?”

“This”—I held up my bandaged hand—“and all the gentle tenderness that went with it? Absolutely unacceptable levels of confusing.”

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to be a lot more specific.”

“You kissed my hand better!”

“I was under the impression it would help.”

Well, it hadn’t.

I snapped my fingers and pointed one at him. “You know what, we’re about to have our first coaching session.”

“Fantastic.” He tossed his phone on the table as I plopped down on the couch beside him. “I have so many questions⁠—”

He wasn’t given the chance to finish. The moment my ass hit the cushion, his beautiful face was in my hands and his insufferably pretty mouth was captive against mine.

The plan was simple: teach Jackson Sinclair a lesson by kissing his soul straight out of his gigantic body. And that was exactly what I did. I shoved the crippling fear and doubt aside and gave in to the hunger, the need, the incessant craving I had for him.

I craved him with every fiber of my soul and didn’t know how to make it stop. It was horrible, and wonderful, and terrifying, and all his fault, so I shoved my tongue into his mouth as punishment.

He groaned and… it was over. He snapped out of his initial state of shock, and whatever leverage I’d started with crumpled with a broken whine when he wrapped his arms around me and effortlessly pulled me onto his lap.

My gut fucking purred. I was exactly where I belonged, straddling Jackson as he touched me, kissed me, and made filthy, filthy promises with that wicked tongue of his.

Absolutely unacceptable. I bit his bottom lip and pulled away.

“Lesson number one,” I panted, pushing him back when he tried to chase the kiss. My palm was kept firm against his pounding chest as I glared into his dazed eyes. “There’s a big difference between lust and affection. This—” I fisted his shirt and yanked him forward for another hard, frustrated kiss before shoving him back again. “This is lust. That’s all it is. You and I have had the extremely inconvenient misfortune of being physically attracted to one another and were stupid enough to act on it.”

Was he listening? He didn’t look like he was listening.

“Stop staring at my mouth like that,” I snapped. “I’m saying things.”

“I’m quite aware of what lust is, Jamie,” he told my mouth. “I’m suffering through the affliction as we speak.” In case there was any confusion whatsoever around his meaning, he grabbed my thighs and jerked me forward. He was rock-hard, his grip punishing.

My clit hissed.

“So you agree that’s what this is,” I said, barely managing to keep my voice even. “Just lust.”

Genuine surprise flicked over his features. He faltered for a moment, then blinked himself back into focus. “Of c—yes.”

I knew that would be his answer—I knew he was going to say yes—yet my stomach still dropped, my throat still ached, and my fist still tightened around his shirt as I held up my bandaged hand. “Then this has to stop.”

He was silent for a moment. “What?”

“There is lust, and then there’s affection,” I repeated slowly. “One is purely physical. It’s driven exclusively by attraction and wants one thing, and one thing only: sex.”

“I already said I know what lust⁠—”

“Affection is not that,” I interrupted. “Affection is about emotional intimacy and connection. The two have very different natures, objectives, and psychological impacts. Showing genuine and consistent affection to someone who isn’t closed off to emotional intimacy like you is confusing, Jackson.”

It led to hope. To longing and desire and, eventually, crushing disappointment.

His eyes slid between mine as his grip on my thighs softened. After a long pause, he asked, “Which part are you confused about?”

My own fingers loosened around his shirt. I swallowed. “All of it.” Everything about him confused me. “You’re not allowed to be sweet and tender with me anymore, understand?”

“No. Explain,” he demanded. “In detail.”

How much clearer could I get?

“It’s called a boundary,” I said, “and I’m officially setting one. Lust, I can do. That’ll burn out in a week or two if we just… give it what it wants. But no displays of affection before, during, or after.”

“Meaning?” he pushed.

Fuck’s sake. “Meaning you can bend me over and fuck me as rough and hard as you want, but you’re not allowed to clean me up afterward.” I slipped his bottom lip between my teeth and softly pulled, then licked. “Meaning, Jackson, that you can tie me to your bed and use me like your own personal fucktoy all night, you can leave your marks and your bruises on my skin, but you’re not allowed to soothe them when you’re finished. Is that more clear?”

His breathing stopped abruptly when I got to the personal fucktoy bit, his pulse slamming harder against my fist.

“Is that really what you want from me?” he asked.

What I wanted was for this burning need for him to subside before it consumed me whole. And if he had to fuck it out of me, so be it.

“Yes.”

The silence that followed wouldn’t have been so nerve-wracking if I could read the slow change in his expression as he studied me. I had no idea what he was thinking.

“Don’t you think we’ll both feel better afterward?” I tried. “Even if it’s just once… don’t you think it’ll at least take the edge off?”

His pale eyes thinned, his lips rolling back unhappily. That expression I recognized right away. War was being declared.

My heart bounced. I bit back a smile.

“Did last night help take the edge off for you, Jamie?”

“It would have if you’d stuck to your word,” I retorted. “All that talk about holding me down and fucking me hard, filling me with your cum… so disappointing.”

I was playing with fire, and I knew it.

“Disappointing,” Jackson repeated dangerously. His mouth ticked up, eyes knife-sharp. “Is that how you’d describe last night?”

If I lied and said yes, there’d be consequences.

“Yes.”

His palms trailed fire up my thighs, fingers hooking under the waistband of my jeans. A tremor ripped up my spine.

“And what happens when I fuck you as hard as you want, and you realize once isn’t enough?” He thumbed the button of my jeans, igniting a swarm of sparks in my core. “What then?”

“Then we’ll do it a second time.” The lust would have to fade eventually.

But when I reached for the top button of his shirt, he grabbed my wrists.

“Stand up,” he ordered.

My vagina practically melted. I pushed to my feet.

“Strip” was his next command.

My fingers fumbled their shaky way through buttons, zippers, and sleeves, until I was standing next to a puddle of fabric, wearing nothing but my underwear.

“All of it,” Jackson commanded when I hesitated.

My stomach tightened as I reached behind my back and unclasped my bra, letting it fall to the floor. Then, with a shaky breath, I slowly peeled off my panties.

I swear if this didn’t end with him pinning my body to the bed and shoving into me, I was going to lose my goddamn mind. I’d never wanted someone this badly before, and I needed it to stop. I needed my muscles to not quiver when his eyes moved over my body like that. I needed my heart to not skip and dance for him, and my gut to not purr every time he walked into a room.

“So beautiful.” He unbuckled his belt, dark gaze glued to my breasts. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Jamie. I can’t fucking handle it.”

And I couldn’t fucking handle him looking at me like that. My knees were going to melt.

“Calling me beautiful counts as affection,” I breathed. “Don’t do it again.”

His jaw twitched, his throat working as he bit back the argument. “Back on my lap.” The command was molten and rough. He ripped his belt free and twisted it over his large hands. “Wrists behind you.”

I did as I was told, placing a knee on either side of his muscular thighs before clasping my hands behind my back. The leather belt was looped and secured around my wrists with effortless ease and efficiency. “You really would make the perfect little fucktoy, wouldn’t you?”

My lungs emptied, and I was pretty sure he could see my pulse hopping out of my neck. It got worse when he hooked a finger under my dainty gold necklace and used it to pull me forward. Like a collar. He licked at my bottom lip. Nipped it with his teeth. Kissed it.

Fire teased my core, my skin, my everything.

“Pull your pants down,” I said. We were wasting too much time. I needed him to be fucking me like I needed air.

Jackson tutted at me like I’d misbehaved. “Is that how good little fucktoys speak to their owners, Jamie?”

That one… that one did something to my brain. Itched another deep, hidden scratch that had been dormant and unrealized until that very second. Goosebumps raced across my skin. I shivered.

He tugged on my chain again and grazed his lips over mine. “I asked you a question.”

I swallowed, refusing to answer. He smiled against my lips before giving them a soft, tender kiss. “I see.”

“You’re being affectionate again.”

Another sweet kiss. “Unfortunately, your little rule isn’t gonna work for me.”

“It’s not really up for negotiation.”

“Affection is one of my major areas of concern. I’m afraid you’re going to have to coach me on it.”

I called bullshit. “Jackson.”

He shut me up with a deep, toe-curling kiss. It scorched through me, lit the very thread of my soul on fire. When he tried to pull back, I chased the flames with my tongue.

His chest rumbled with pleasure, and when I teased his tongue with a seductive little lick, his fingers shoved into my hair. They weren’t being gentle anymore.

He wasn’t being gentle anymore.

With a tortured curse he crushed my body to his, hard enough for it to hurt.

It was perfect.

“You shouldn’t feel so fucking good, Jamie.” His mouth moved to my jaw, my neck. Everything was fire.

I felt good? I did?!

He pulled back and peered down at me, his hand slipping between my thighs with no warning. I gasped.

His eyes were locked on mine as his fingers ran over my slit, my entrance, my inner thighs. Anywhere and everywhere, with one exception—they wouldn’t touch the little ball of oversensitive nerves begging and fluttering desperately for their attention.

Judging by his sinister smirk, it was on purpose.

“Do you want to know what my second area of concern is?” He teased my weeping entrance again and pulled a broken, shuddering breath out of me. “Remember that little diagram you drew for me?”

The what? “What diag—” Oh.

Oh, fuck me.

He grinned. “Where oh where could it be, the elusive little clitoris?”

Oh my god. He was going to tease me until I cried.

“I hate you,” I panted. Begging would be futile. I could see it in his vicious, heartless eyes.

“You drew the picture but never bothered to show me where it was.”

“No. Seriously. I hate you.”

That shit-eating grin told me everything I needed to know about how much fun he was having with this. What a monster.

“As my dating coach, I think you would agree that it’s your responsibility to make sure that I can at least pleasure my future wife.”

“You said you didn’t plan on sleeping with your wife, remember?”

He wasn’t listening.

“Is this it?” He stroked a spot that made me whimper. Out of frustration, not pleasure. “Or is it maybe this one?”

“Karma’s a bitch, Jackson. Watch your back.”

“Is that a yes? Have I finally found it?”

I huffed a small laugh. Couldn’t help it. “You’re so annoying.”

He pressed his smiling lips to mine in yet another tender kiss. “And you’re incredibly fun to tease, anyone ever tell you that?”

There was a beat of silence, both our brains a little too slow to process what he’d just asked.

It hit him first. He pulled back. “Scratch that.”

But it was too late. My evil brain had formed its evil plan, and the evil words were already tumbling out of my evil mouth. “Yes. I’ve been told that so many times by sooo many very attractive men thamphnmnn.”

I’d never kissed someone while we were both laughing before. It felt dangerously right. Like I’d been kissing the wrong people my whole life.

Whatever panic was supposed to follow that realization was swept away by the tender strokes of Jackson’s tongue. I couldn’t feel anything except for the deep, burning desire simmering at the very pit of my core. Didn’t even realize he’d lifted me until my ass hit the mattress and Jackson pulled away.

“On your stomach.”

Finally.

Finally, finally, fin⁠—

My reaction time was too slow for his liking, so he decided to flip me over himself. And… yup. I definitely had a big thing for being manhandled; shuddered and moaned when he grabbed my hips, yanked them into position, and kneed my thighs an extra inch apart. I was fully exposed to him then, entirely at his mercy with my hands tied behind my back, my ass in the air, and half my face pressed to the mattress.

I fucking loved it. Apparently, I was a tad kinkier than I’d led myself to believe up to this point.

“You’re fucking dripping, Jamie.” My thigh quivered when he grazed a finger over my skin, tracing the slickness running down my inner thigh. “You need to be fucked and used that badly?”

I buried my face into the duvet and stifled a moan.

“You really are a perfect little sex toy.” His hands slid over my ass cheeks, spreading me wide open. “Look at these pretty little holes. They’re just begging to be fucked, aren’t they? They need it.”

I choked against the duvet when he pressed the thick, sizzling pad of his tongue against my clit and slowly, slowly, slowly licked all the way up.

ALL. The way. Up.

Then he pressed a sweet little kiss to my trembling lower back.

“Slight problem, though,” he murmured darkly. “I like to take good care of my toys. I enjoy that part almost as much as all the playing. Without it, the process wouldn’t feel quite as complete. And what good will all the playing be if we don’t reach completion, wouldn’t you agree?”

I knew exactly where he was going with this and I wasn’t having any of it. I wasn’t changing my mind.

“Not necessarily,” I panted. “I can’t orgasm just from penetration but that doesn’t mean it’s not fun or pleasurable.”

A long pause. Then, “You’ve never come from just penetration?”

“No.” It wasn’t uncommon, and I swear if he was about to tell me it would be different with his miracle-working magic dick⁠—

“So I can fuck you as much as I want, and you won’t be able to come until I allow it?”

My heart stopped beating for a second. “That’s… one way to look at it.”

He cursed under his breath, and then I heard the unmistakable sound of his zipper ripping open. My muscles were vibrating.

“What’s your safeword?”

“Strawberry,” I panted. “Can we stop talking about it now and⁠—”

The air was slammed out of my lungs, my muscles clenching against the unexpected sensation of suddenly being filled. It hurt just enough to make my clit sing.

He hadn’t been kind or gentle about it, and he was so big that it… it… I moaned, squeezing my eyes shut. It was so fucking perfect.

I wasn’t the only one in agony. The groan that ripped out of him echoed in my ears, making my everything curl. I’d made him feel good.

“Fuck.” His hands were back on my hips, his unforgiving fingers digging into my skin. “You’ve got a tiny little fuckhole, don’t you?”

No. He was just massive, but I was not coherent enough to argue with him.

He moved his hips, pushing deeper. I moaned again. How was there more of him? Another half-inch and I choked. I couldn’t do it. He was too big. It felt too good. It hurt too much. I wanted it too desperately.

“Jackson…” I was out of breath, unable to get enough oxygen. “I can’t…” Breathe. Think. Take it. “You’re too… I can’t…”

“You can.” His voice was dark and utterly tortured. “You’ll take every last inch like a good little toy.”

He pulled out, eased back in. Pulled, eased. Pulled, and shoved.

I didn’t know who cried out harder, me or him. My vision shimmered with stars, danced with ecstasy. The rest of me was burning from the inside out.

Holy.

Fuck.

Jackson let out a string of curses under his breath, keeping himself buried all the way to the hilt. “You okay?”

“So okay. So good.” Please keep going.

“Still want it rough?”

Yes. So badly it burned. “Please.”

The plea had barely escaped before it was met. Jackson pulled out, shoved back in, and did exactly as I’d asked. He kept his grip on my hips unrelentingly firm as he slammed into me over and over again, fucking me hard until a familiar pressure began to build and coil in the depths of my core.

It wouldn’t spill over, but that didn’t stop it from feeling excruciatingly good. It didn’t stop me from gasping and moaning every time his balls smacked my clit and sent an arrow of pleasure blazing through me.

I was in heaven.

And the more vocal I was about it, the more ruthless and punishing his thrusts became. It didn’t hurt at all anymore. I was just a moaning, quivering mess of pure need.

“Fuck, Jamie. Look at how fucking well you take cock. Your pussy fucking loves it.”

How was he able to form full sentences? I was dying.

The only thing I could do was keep my legs open and take the assault, knowing he wouldn’t let me come right away. Or maybe not at all. Maybe he’d keep me begging all day. The thought made my toes curl. “So good… oh god, Jackson…”

He’d been holding back. Because the second his name slipped out of me, drenched in sugar-sweet ecstasy, his movements became more harsh, jerky, and erratic.

I choked out more moans, more whimpers, more mewls and cries and praises for how good he was fucking me. I’d never experienced anything this intense before; didn’t want it to ever end.

“Fuck, Jamie. Fuckfuckfuckfuck—” He cut off with a final bruising thrust and a deep, guttural grunt. I felt every jerk and spasm as his cock emptied inside me. He groaned and trembled through the orgasm, his fingers digging into my flesh like they were intent on leaving permanent bruises.

I was wound so tight that my body was trembling.

Eventually, his breathing began to even out and his grip on me loosened. He didn’t let me go, though, and he didn’t pull out. Instead, he ground into me, teasing my clit until I let out a wounded whimper.

“How was that?” he asked gruffly. “Did that take the edge off for you? Shall I untie you and leave?”

If he did, I would cry.

He moved his hips again and a tremor ran down my thighs. “God, you were just made for fucking, weren’t you? Look at how well you’re behaving.”

“Jackson…” It was barely a whisper. I didn’t have the strength to use my full voice. “Please.”

He knew exactly what I was asking for. His semihard cock twitched inside me, giving him away. He enjoyed the pleading, the consensual imbalance of power, just as much as I did.

“Didn’t you come enough last night?” he teased. “Don’t you think it’s my turn?”

I swallowed, clinging on to the very last thread of sanity I possessed.

“Sorry,” I muttered.

There was a long pause before he said, “Why are you sorry?”

“Because… I don’t know if you got to finish, and I should have checked before passing out.” I mean, I was pretty sure he’d gotten there, but I couldn’t know for certain.

A low, dark laugh rumbled out of his chest. “I definitely finished. That’s how fucking good you taste, Jamie. It made me spill in my pants like a teenager.”

Heat flooded my cheeks, and I bit my lip, stifling another moan.

“You should put that in my file.” It was a dare. “When you pick out my wife, you should let her know my favorite kink is eating you out. Tell her I love the taste of your pussy so much that it’s all I’ll be able to think about whenever I get my needs met.”

What was he doing?

And why did it make me throb around him?

“Tell her that if you’d agreed to marry me, you’d have woken up with my head buried between your thighs every single fucking morning. Let her know that while she has to beg for me to touch her, you had to beg for me to stop. That’s how maddeningly attracted to you I am, how much I fucking loved eating you out, and I want to make sure she knows it.”

He was fully hard again which, up until that moment, I didn’t realize could happen. My fingers curled into fists as he slowly slid out an inch, then back in.

“Do you think she’ll understand, Jamie? That the reason I won’t lick her pussy is because I know she won’t taste like you?”

Oh my god. I shut my eyes, my heart pounding in my chest. Foolishly, I wanted to believe him. Selfishly, I wanted to be the only one he desired. Logically, I knew how incompatible we were.

Still, I loved hearing him say it.

His next thrust was much harder. It might have even hurt if I wasn’t so wet and dripping with his cum. “I want to fucking do it again. I want to tie your wrists to my bed and lick your sweet pussy until you’re begging and pretending like you don’t want me to keep going. I’m fucking rabid for it, Jamie.”

My muscles tensed as he picked up speed, fucking me harder and harder, until we were both fighting for air again.

“How’s this, darling? That edge you were talking about gone yet?”

I hated him. So much.

He had no idea what he was doing to me. How good he felt. How confused I was. How easily his words could be misinterpreted.

“Shut up,” I breathed, which only made him laugh.

“Fuck. Jesus. I’m already close.” His hammering sped up, and no matter how tight the tension in my core twisted, it wasn’t enough to push me over the edge. I was in agony.

Sweet, torturous agony that had me close to tears by the time Jackson twitched and spasmed and groaned through his second release. I loved every bit of it.

Hot liquid spilled out of me when he slowly pulled out, and I whined, protesting the sudden emptiness. It felt strangely foreign and hollow, and I wanted him to fix it. Instead, he zipped up and set my hands free.

No. I wasn’t ready.

“Look at you.” He ran the tips of his fingers over the curve of my ass and huffed a dark, amused chuckle when I quivered. “Two full loads of my cum and your greedy little fuckhole’s still pulsating for more. Who knew my sweet girl would turn out to be such a needy slut?”

My freed fingers curled into the duvet as I bit back an embarrassingly loud cry. There was a good chance I’d climax if he just kept talking. It was like he had a roadmap of my secret buttons and was intent on smashing them all, one after another.

The bedside drawer opened, and I knew. He’d looked this morning.

“Get on your back.”

I rolled over as gracefully as one could with trembling muscles, my knees melting inward at the sight of Jackson towering over me.

The fact that I was fully naked while he was still fully dressed added an extra layer of vulnerability I enjoyed way too much.

“Do well behaving fucktoys close their legs before they’re done being used, Jamie?” He turned on my studded purple vibrator; turned it off again.

A threat.

This was officially out of control. I was so out of my depth. It was overwhelming, and scary, and oh so thrilling.

“Spread your thighs,” he commanded. “Show me what a good little slut you are, how badly you need to be fucked again.”

My pulse kicked. So insanely out of my depth.

Still, I listened, splaying my thighs open for him, watching his eyes go dark and his throat work with a rough swallow.

“Do you have any fucking idea how pretty you look with my cum spilling out of you like this, sweet girl?” The vibrator clicked on again and he stepped closer. “The sins I would commit if I could have a full year of this?”

And what if the year ended up not being enough? What if I wanted a lifetime? What then?

“I’m not going to marry you.” Out of all the times I’d said the words, that one sounded the least convincing. My voice was shaky, uneven, full of air.

“You sure about that?” His palm curved over my right knee, forcing it wider before he nudged at my entrance with the vibrator. I moaned. He grinned. “I’ve got three weeks to convince you to sign the contract. By the time our thirty days are up you might be begging for another twelve months of my cock.”

“And then what? How many people do I get on my list?”

He frowned. “I’m not following.”

“You said you’d encourage your wife to get her needs met elsewhere, right?”

So many of his facial muscles ticked in such quick succession that I had to bite back a laugh.

“Well?” I teased. “How many more men are allowed to tie me up and⁠—”

My mouth fell open when he pushed the vibrator in, but no sound came out. My eyelids fluttered, my fingers curled, and if Jackson hadn’t pushed onto the bed and positioned himself between my thighs, my legs would have snapped closed.

“Say that again.”

“Holy shit.”

“Say it again.”

I blinked his scowl into focus, my chest heaving. He’d twisted the vibrator so that the protruding clit stimulator couldn’t do its job. Asshole.

“I bet one of them would let me come,” I panted. “Maybe if I make use of that business card and called my soulma⁠—”

His lips crushed mine, shutting me the hell up. He punished me with his tongue, bit me, and pressed the vibrator deeper. I moaned into his mouth, my hips wiggling. When he broke the kiss, his icy-blue eyes narrowed down at me. “For the last time, you’re not for him. And just so we’re crystal-fucking-clear on this, you won’t be fucking anyone else with my ring on your finger.”

His hand had started to move, slowly pulling the studded vibrator out, pushing it back in. I was going to lose my fucking mind.

“No one,” he said. “No one but me.”

I whimpered, my back arching slightly. He was going too slow. I needed more.

“You’d be mine, Jamie.” He twisted the toy, edging the stimulator just a little closer to my clit. “You’d only ever come for me—because of me.”

Another little twist and I choked out a broken cry. He was so close. I just needed him to turn it one more time.

I was heaving, trembling like a leaf as he loomed over me, a hand braced beside my head.

“How many hours of fucking do you think you can take?” He bent down and nibbled on my bottom lip. “Should we test it out?”

The toy twisted again.

The wrong way.

I whined, my will cracking straight down the middle.

“Please no. Please.” I couldn’t take it anymore.

“You’re so fucking pretty when you beg. I can’t handle it.” His gaze roamed over my face, drinking in every ounce of the pleasure and suffering he was inflicting. “Would you like to know another secret?”

No. The only thing I wanted was for him to twist the damn vibrator.

“Every single one of my kinks—all the ones we’ve talked about—are exclusive to you. I don’t want to do any of this with anyone else; never have. Why is that, Jamie? What the fuck did you do to me?”

I didn’t know, couldn’t stop choking out moans to answer him.

“So fucking pretty…” he murmured. “You want to come, sweet girl?”

“Yes.” I didn’t know if the word actually made it out of my mouth, but I really tried. “Please… please… I need it so bad⁠—”

He kissed me right as he twisted the toy, swallowing my every cry and moan as the vibrations shot fire and electricity through my clit, up my torso, down my legs.

The orgasm slammed into me so hard that I couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see anything over the bright white and red dots dancing over my vision. It was never-ending. It just kept going and going, soaking me in lust and fire.

It was incredible.

He wouldn’t stop kissing me, even after the vibrator was discarded and the aftershocks had relented. And instead of pushing him away, I’d shoved my hands into his hair and was gripping onto it for dear life as our tongues tangled and played. He touched me everywhere, palms roaming all over my body like he simply couldn’t pick which part he liked best.

I didn’t get it. Didn’t understand how I could possibly need more of him after all that.

I also couldn’t stop.

We rolled around on the bed, devouring each other until Jackson was fumbling with his zipper again.

The third time did not take the edge off. It sharpened the damn thing.

I was fucked, both literally and figuratively I was well and truly and thoroughly fucked.