Page 65 of Until Waverly

“Oh?”

“Yep.” He put the Comet into gear and pulled away from the curb, heading back toward downtown Nashville. “Alandria is going to spend the night with Ireland and Mack so we can have the evening to ourselves.”

* * *

The elevator ride to our room left me trembling with anticipation. Jackson’s hand in mine buoyed me to the here and now. When the doors opened on our floor, my heart pounded with excitement. Today had turned out better than I could have hoped. Of course, a part of me questioned whether the hospital was being as accommodating as they were because of the circumstances of why I’d been injured. It hadn’t slipped me though to talk to a lawyer too. However, I loved my job. If I went anywhere else, I’d have to start over, and I’d rather not.

Jackson slid the keycard into the reader, then opened the door. Once we were inside, he locked the door then pinned me to the cool hardwood, keeping me in place. “You’re going to be Mrs. Banks soon.”

“I am.” I smiled, liking the sound of his name attached to mine. “Or you could become Mr. Redman.”

He barked a laugh. “I could. Your mother would get a kick out of that.”

“She would, wouldn’t she?” I chortled.

“I fucking love you, Waverly,” Jackson said, before taking my mouth in a brutal kiss. He pinned me to the door, and the hard press of his cock rubbed against my hip.

I trembled, going weak in his arms. I wanted him with a single-minded passion that could rip me apart. His hands were all over me, touching and caressing me before he went to his knees and slid his hands up my thighs. I whimpered, my hands fisting his short red hair. He never played fair, always putting his mouth on my pussy and making me scream. “Right here?” I squeaked.

He looked up at me. His pupils were blown. The devious expression on his face meant there would be no negotiating with him. Then his mouth curved upward into a hedonistic smile, and I was done for. My panties dampened with desire. “Yes.” He ripped the thin material from me and brought the silk underwear to his nose. He inhaled and groaned before stuffing them into his back pocket. “I’ll buy you more, sunshine.”

He was so hot.

The first lick of his tongue startled me. The second, I held his face to me. He traced my slit, then speared me. I went to the tiptoe of my right foot, while he adjusted my left, putting my leg over his shoulder to keep me from injuring myself.

“You better.”

He chuckled, nuzzling my clit with his nose before holding me open and devouring me. He licked and sucked on my clit, then filled me with his tongue. Jackson feasted on me with such abandon. I rode his face, desperate for more while chasing the climax building within me. The groan he let loose with vibrated through me, and I cried out. It was all too much and not enough. I was drowning in him.

“I can’t wait anymore.” The desperate edge of his voice as he stood then gathered me in his arms and carried me to our bed sent a shivered thrill down my spine. “You’ve got me fucked up, Waverly. I want to fuck you all night.”

His salacious words turned me on, and I ached for him. I curled my hands into fists as he pulled his clothes off, then covered me again, rucking my skirt as he spread my legs and settled between my thighs. Jackson entered me in a single hard thrust, and I shattered in his arms, shaking through my climax as he pushed my shirt out of the way and exposed my breasts to his gaze. He went wild over me, fucking me in hard strokes, keeping me in that painful-pleasurable space between climaxing and being on the edge.

When his mouth latched onto my nipple, I cried out, holding his face to me while rocking my hips, meeting his thrust for thrust. This was carnal. Hot and messy. I loved it. I wanted Jackson like this always. The sounds coming from him were potent and arousing. Bliss coiled low inside of me. Already, another orgasm built. Jackson lifted his head and kissed me before burying his face in the crook of my neck. He was unhinged and frantic. His breath brushed across my cheek before he made this startled, hitched-gasp sound. It was sexy as hell, and I wanted to hear it every time we were together.

“Soon, I’m going to fuck you again to get you pregnant,” he whispered with a moan. “Every time you walk, my cum will drip from you, and you’ll have proof of my determination.”

“Jackson…” Sparks of pleasure cascaded through me.

“Give it to me, Waverly. Present it to your future husband, and I’ll fill you with every bit of me, future wife.”

His words struck a part of me that knocked away what remained of my shame and guilt. I flew in his arms, sobbing as my orgasm hit, and I trembled, finally free of my burdens and distrust. Jackson was right there with me, his mouth fused to mine, all teeth and tongue and eagerness but most of love. He cradled me to him, holding me close as we both panted for breath. I didn’t want this moment to end. I’d finally had my Boom, and I’d never let him go.

Chapter22

Waverly

Six months later…

I stared at my reflection in the mirror, and for the first time since all of this started I didn’t see the dark circles under my eyes or the dull listlessness clouding them. My leg had healed perfectly, like Dr. Jay deemed it would, and though physical therapy had been a pain, I saw the difference in my gait almost immediately. He hadn’t been kidding when he believed my balance would be different now. I had to train myself to use different areas of my foot to compensate for the missing bones.

Thatwas the hardest part.

I finished up my makeup, then went back into our bedroom—mine and Jackson’s—to get dressed. Today was the day I’d have to face Chris Stapleton—the distraught father—in court and testify about what had occurred when he sent the hospital into lockdown. I felt bad for him. He’d lost everything, even his son, who was put into the foster care system. The last I’d heard, which wasn’t much, his deceased wife’s family was trying to adopt the boy, but Chris wasn’t letting go.

God help the poor man.

As for the asshole who caused the accident and killed Chris’s wife, he was sentenced to ten years in prison. Come to find out, it hadn’t been a DUI. He’d had a medical episode, and instead of calling for EMS, he took a chance and drove himself to the hospital. He should, under those circumstances, be lucky they hadn’t sentenced him to sixty years because of his negligence. Whether ten or sixty, Chris would never have his wife back, and his son would also grow up without him. The loser in all this was Chris and his son.

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