Page 3 of Until Waverly

“You’re gorgeous, Waverly,” he whispered, guiding me toward him. “Are you sure this is okay?”

I liked that he worried about me and consent. Liked it even more when his body sheltered mine. “Yes.” I nodded, trying to hide the tremble of anxiety.

He lifted my chin to press his lips to mine, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, mooring myself to him to keep from going under.

“This is the craziest thing I have ever done,” Jackson whispered before brushing his lips over mine again.

I highly doubted that. Though I didn’t say as much out loud. I didn’t want to spoil the spell. Later, perhaps.

His lips brushed mine sensually, forcing me to chase him until he banded his arms around me, holding me close. The thick length of his erection pressed to the lower half of my belly, wet and throbbing. My eyes fluttered shut. My brain short-circuited. Jackson carried me to the bed, laying me out as though I were his most precious possession. He kissed the insides of my knees as he climbed between my legs, then reached for his pants. The silver foiled pack he retrieved showed me he cared when I couldn’t form coherent thoughts.

His gaze never left mine as he rolled the condom on. I never thought that would be sexy. How wrong I was. “You’re sure?” His thumb circled my clit, and a hitched gasp fell from my lips.

“Yes,” I murmured, arching to him with each swipe of his thumb.

“So wet and perfect,” he murmured, continuing to watch me.

Embarrassment and pleasure collided. I wasn’t sure if I should like what he was doing to me or hate it. I was cold and hot. Desperate and scared. Ready and self-conscious. I was a mixture of emotions. Jackson’s gaze bore into mine. He lowered his body, fitting himself at my entrance. Each heartbeat was a crash of a gong—loud and obnoxious, battering my senses.

I swallowed hard.

His name sat on the tip of my tongue.

He pushed forward, and all cognitive thought evaporated. He was too big, and I was inadequate. Tears sprung to the corners of my eyes as I let loose with a shuddered cry. A mixture of pain and pleasure swamped me.

“Hey,” Jackson whispered, dotting kisses across my cheeks and forehead and nose. “Look at me, Waverly.”

I opened my eyes, stunned by Jackson’s strained, awe-filled expression. My inner muscles fluttered, and he clenched his jaw. The muscle there twitched, and his mouth fell open as he tensed before a moan escaped him.

“Jackson...” I clung to him for purchase, desperate for some control over the moment. To skip to the good part and not be subject to the questions I knew sat on the tip of his tongue. “If I say yes, will your questions cease before they begin?”

The corner of his mouth lifted. His eyes glittered with triumph and possessive caveman qualities. “Yes.” He kissed me again then nuzzled my neck. “I’ll be your only.”

The thought should have scared me. Should have forced my hands between us to stop this irrational ride we were on together. Instead, I clung to him. When he sank the rest of the way inside of me, a new sensation built. The tingle of awareness and bliss coiled low within me. With each plunge of his hips, I chased the feeling, desperate to know what would happen next.

“Touch me,” he whispered.

“Where?” I replied.

“Everywhere. Anywhere. I want to wear your fingerprints. I want your lips branding me.” He grunted, curling his lip. “This isn’t a onetime thing, Waverly. You’re mine.”

His deep, gravelly voice did things to me. Deliciously naughty things. His voice, in the throes of passion, was silky smooth, like warm chocolate chip cookies fresh from the oven. I scraped my blunt nails down his back. He hissed, shoving deep and causing me to squirm over him. I let out a startled cry, surprised by how good he felt.

“Jackson,” I sobbed, not sure what I expected from him.

“I’ve got you.” The confidence in his tone buoyed me. “I know what you need.”

He fit his hand between us. His middle finger manipulated my clit, and I was on fire. Flames of pleasure ignited my system, sending liquid excitement burning through my veins. The tension swelled within me. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I held him closer. Deeper. The strangled sound he made combined with my cries.

The intensity was too much.

I writhed below him, chasing the ecstasy just outside of my grasp. I whined as impatience set in. Jackson laughed. The dark sound had another flutter tickling insides, ramping up the need. This was torture.

In a very good way.

His middle finger pressed down on my clit, and my breath lodged in my throat. Everything inside of me was pulled taut. Jackson jerked. His features were flat by tension and framed in pleasure. His cheeks were pink, as was his chest. The tattoo on his neck stood out in contrast, the remembrance he’d lost someone he loved. I kissed the mark, and he let out a heavy sigh before his pace quickened.

“Fuck,” he snarled. “You feel too good for me, Waverly. I thought I could last longer. Make it good for you.”

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