Jack shoulders his bedroom door open and propels me inside, and my back is to the old wood he kicks shut before I can take a breath.
He grips my face again—his favourite thing and I’ll never get bored of it. Or of how he looks at me now, eyes dark, jaw set, breathing rough. “No noise.” A whisper too harsh to be delicate. “Don’t think about anything but this…please?”
Please. Gods. It’s my undoing. Or maybe it’s the beer and rum I’ve put away this evening. Either way I’m as weak to that plea as I’ve always been, and I fall headlong into everything he asks of me.
Jack tugs me from the door and crowds me to the bed. I go down easy and he looms above me like a fighter who knows he’s going to win, pulling his shirt over his head like every wet dream I’ve ever had.
I’m naked. Still wet from the shower. Yet, for the first time since forever and a day, he doesn’t seem to notice the water beading onto his sheets. He only sees me, and knowing for sure he likes what he sees—loves it, even—it’s…something else.
“What do you want, Jackie? Cos you’re looking at me like you wanna eat me alive.”
He almost smirks. But that’s not Jack. And the stare he gives me is feral. “Sol, I want to fuck you.”
My mouth dries. Pulse kicks up. I’m not shocked—I saw it in him the moment I stepped out of the shower. But it still hits like the sweetest sucker punch. Like, how is this happening? Bad luck follows me around. Misfortune and wicked twists of fate.This, every fantasy unfolding on Christmas Eve…this isn’t my life.
It can’t be.
And yet, I watch with building heat in my belly as my best friend strips, showing me every inch of his muscled, inked frame, and it’s all real.
Him.
Me.
Us.
Jack kicks aside the last of his clothes and comes to the bed, covering me with his body, fists either side of my head. “I want to fuck you,” he repeats, lower this time, as if he’s speaking to the part of me that needs to hear it most. “Teach me how.”
My legs are already curling around him, hooking him to me, my body way ahead of my brain. I slide my hands up his bare back and arch my neck to lick the seam of his mouth. “You don’t need lessons. Fuck me how you blow me—slow, deep,hard.”
“You want this?”
“You can’t tell?” I flex my hips a little, letting my dick press against his, breath catching at the sensation.
I’m so hard.
So is he, and it’s no joke. Jack isn’t small, and it’s been a hell of a long time since I let someone bang me.
Because every man who came before was just proof it’s always been him.And by the way Jack’s consuming me tonight, he wants it to be him too. But…I have to be sure. “Do you want this, Jackie? You want to fuck me?”
“Yes.” Jack leans down and bites my neck. “Yes.”
How am I awake? This has to be a dream. But like the night he first kissed me, and the night he seemed to know how bad I needed him to take me apart with his hands and mouth, he’s too hot and earnest to speak anything but truth.
He shuts me up for a while. Urgent, pulsing heat takes over and he retraces the steps of all that’s come before. With his mouth. With skilled fingers that don’t need a map to find their way home.
He remembers.
And he cares, about getting it right. About turning me into a sweaty, panting mess, devoid of coherent thought and speech beyondyesevery time he reiterates consent.
I grip the bedframe.
Jack lies over me, chest to chest, so wrapped up in each other we share oxygen with every breath. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t.” I nuzzle his neck, hoping he feels how steady I am beyond the shivering across my overheated skin. “If you go slow.”
An instruction Jack doesn’t need. He’s used to holding the line and he presses in deep with careful—brutal—patience, his focus so absolute he couldn’t cause me pain if he tried.
And yet…it’s a lot. I need a minute as he stretches me open, breath catching, eyes burning. Hands releasing the bedframe to clamp onto his shoulders, digging in as Jack stills. Reading me. Knowing me, even though we’ve never known each other quite like this.