Page 53 of The Love Playbook

But someone like Jackson deserves someone who wants to settle down and do the whole marriage and babies and a house with a picket fence thing. And I … don’t.

He’s order and stability, and I am whimsy and chaos. Our rooms are clear demonstrations of our differences. And I don’t see how we could ever peacefully coexist beyond the terms of our current relationship.

But the way he touches me … the way he looks at me … if I were ever going to explore that possibility, it would have to be with someone who reveres me the way that he does. Someone sweet and caring and brave.

He withdraws his finger, and his thighs brush against the backs of mine, his heat engulfing me. Then the broad head of his dick presses against me. For a moment my body resists, like always, and then all at once, that resistance is overcome and he slips inside.

“Oh my god,” he groans as I hiss through the stretch. He’s still, taking a moment for himself as much as giving one to me, I think.

He strokes my back, his hands starting at my hips and traveling up my sides, then back down along my spine. With his thumbs, he spreads my ass cheeks, and I glance back to see him looking down to where his body is joined with mine in the most intimate way possible.

Lifting his head, he meets my eyes. “Are you okay? Is this okay?”

In answer, I press back against him, forcing him in another inch or so. He groans again.

“Holy fuck, Autumn. This is … this … I—”

Smiling to myself at reducing him to this state again, I press back more until my ass hits his thighs.

“Jesus. I thought my brain was exploding before. I can’t even think right now.”

“Don’t think,” I tell him. “Let your body take over and do what it wants.”

He presses harder into me, grinding himself into my ass, his hands clutching my hips.

“Yeah, babe,” I encourage in a whisper. “Just like that. That feels so good.”

Then he drags himself out slowly, so slowly I swear I can feel every inch of him. When he’s gone so far back I’m afraid he’s pulling out entirely, he presses forward again, grinding against me once more when he’s embedded himself all the way inside me again.

He repeats everything, maintaining that slow, steady pace, and,Oh my goddess, he’s going to kill me with the most slow and thorough fucking I’ve ever experienced.

It’s not that he has more finesse or technique than anyone I’ve ever been with. It’s that he’s so totallypresent. So with me in this moment. Enjoying it—enjoying me—to the point that he has no filter on his thoughts. He grunts and groans and curses his way through every slow, measured thrust.

And this—this methodical, careful fucking—this is why I know we could never work long term. I’d die from the intensity of it all. The control. The tight grip on his internal reins that I’d always want to cut free.

Eventually he’d grow to resent me for it. They always do.

But we can definitely enjoy the time we have together before the inevitable end. And if we both know when and how it will end, we can protect ourselves from future heartache.

When he increases his pace—still carefully measured, just faster—it drives all thoughts from my mind, my awareness entirely consumed by Jackson pistoning in and out of me.

One hand slides around my hip and between my thighs, and he pets my pussy. At first I’m surprised, because every guy who’s done this kind of maneuver has always gone straight for my clit.

But Jackson pays attention. He knows I prefer indirect touching before more direct stimulation.

See what I mean? No one’s ever followed directions this well before, chimes in the voice in the back of my head that’s been advocating for keeping Jackson around.

He slides two fingers inside my pussy, holding me while he continues fucking my ass. And sweet fucking hell, that feels so good that when he starts to pull back, probably to focus on my clit, I shout, “No! Don’t stop!” at the top of my lungs.

He pauses, then his low chuckle vibrates through my body and he plants his fingers more firmly inside me, the heel of his palm hitting my clitjust right, and he resumes the methodical ravaging of my ass. He’s destroying me in the best and most delicious way.

I can tell when he’s getting close to the end of his ability to hang onto his control. He moves faster, his thighs slamming into my ass with a percussive slap now, and his grip on my pussy tightens, which has the effect of pushing his fingertips more firmly into my G-spot, each thrust forcing me to rub my clit into his palm.

It doesn’t take much longer for me to balance on the edge of bliss once more. I want to move with him, to meet each of his thrusts, but because of his grip, I can’t, and somehow that makes everything even hotter. When I realize I’m pinned by him impaling me in both holes, I come with a scream, my arms giving out and my upper half collapsing on the bed.

Jackson doesn’t even pause, his grip on me keeping my hips in place so he can keep pounding into me, unrelenting even in the face of my collapse, keeping my orgasm going for far longer than any other I’ve ever experienced.

No doubt about it. This man will be the death of me …

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