Page 82 of Signed, I'm Yours!
No. I can’t let go. I’ll hang on to him for dear life and be happy when he realizes I’m undeserving of his attention and throws me away. Hell, I’ll even thank him for giving me a quarter of his time when he didn’t have to.
I stroke him and suck him and stare at him, watching the effect I have on his body, how hot and hard he gets against me. I revel in making him feel that way, even if it’s on a countdown. Because I know—I know—as soon as he comes, this is over. He’ll wake up,and I’ll return to my pathetic life, trying to make something of myself.
When he clenches his legs and his breathing seizes, I take him to the root and stay there until he spills down my throat. And he does. His hot load sears me, but is there a sweeter memento of our time together than this? Is there anything better than the memory of how I made him feel?
He groans, his breathing labored, and hooks a finger under my jaw, and I brace myself for the inevitable…kiss?
“Huh?” I hum in his mouth.
He’s kissing me. Why is he kissing me? I was certain this would be the end. Why would he choose me after everything I’d done?
“Wha’?” he hums back, and I open my mouth to see him staring at me.
I shake my head and breathe him in. He caresses my cheeks, my hair, my neck.
Is he unbuttoning my shirt? I don’t even need to open my eyes to confirm as I feel a gentle breeze replace the soft fabric around my chest and back.
Before I even know what’s happening, I’m sitting on the couch, and Jack is pulling my dress pants down and running his hot, wet tongue over my soft cock.
Shivers explode from my pelvis to my taint, and I bite down on my lip as I watch myself grow in his warm mouth.
With each bob of his head, I get bigger, thicker, harder. And he looks positively sinful with the smirk that permeates through his expression even with his mouth full.
Maybe…
Maybe he doesn’t hate me.
He’s under no obligation to return the favor, to blow me, or do anything to me, for that matter. Maybe the fact that he is means he doesn’t hate my guts?
I comb my fingers through his hair and take long, deep breaths as I feel him take more and more of me. But I don’t push him, I don’t force him, I don’t do anything other than hold on to him, the motion more than enough to shake the doubts off the top of my head and allow me to enjoy this moment.
“Oh, Jack.” I moan, and his eyes smile brighter as if he needed my words for motivation.
He wraps his fingers around the base of my cock and starts stroking me at the same time as sucking me, and my fist tightens around his hair. He groans. It reverberates through my cock to the rest of my body, taking my breath away.
I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this treatment or a man like him to want to give that to me, but…but one thing’s clear.
“I love you, Jack!”
It slips out of my mouth, and I don’t even have the time to feel ashamed for uttering the words as my stomach clenches and my knees spasm. I shoot my load, wave after wave, and Jack laps it all up as if it’s the tastiest meal he’s ever tried.
But after the high comes the drop, and I bury my face in my hands, my cheeks turning red instantly.
Jack pulls me out of his mouth. His hands grab my wrists and push down, and when I open my eyes again, I find him mere inches away from me.
“I love you too,” he whispers and kisses me.
I’m stuck for words, which is fine because I have a tongue down my throat, but my mind is about to explode.
He loves me? He doesn’t hate me? How is that possible? After everything I’ve done, everything I’ve put him through…how could he not hate me?
“Oh-my-God-stop-overthinking-and-kiss-me-back-you-fool,” he mutters without breaking free from our kiss.
I don’t know how a man like Jack can look at me and not see who I am, but…if he loves me, maybe I’m not such a monster after all. Because how can a guy like Happy ever love a monster?
I push my tongue into his mouth and let go of all my stupid, overbearing thoughts. Just enjoy the moment. That’s all I can do at a time like this.
A beeping sound breaks the spell shrouding us, and Jack pulls away from the kiss. I have no idea how long we’ve been kissing or how much time has passed in general, but I lie there and watch him pick up his phone from the coffee table and read something on the screen.
