Page 81 of How To Tackle A Crush
“You’re unapologetically you,” he murmurs. “That’s exactly who I want.”
The words land somewhere deep and awkward and a bit terrifying, and for a second I’ve got nothing.
“Didn’t you promise some trousers coming off?” I say eventually, aiming for sultry and landing somewhere just shy of it.
That’s all he needs. His hands are on my waistband, yanking at the button of my trousers, and I lift my hips to help him, my fingers tangling in the duvet. The fabric slides down my legs, taking my knickers with it, and then I’m bare beneath him, exposed in a way I haven’t been in years. The vulnerability of it should terrify me. Instead, it’s intoxicating.
Jack’s breath stutters as he locks eyes with me. His gaze rakes over my body, lingering on the russet curls between my thighs, the flush spreading across my chest. “Fuck, Ava,” he murmurs, his voice rough. “You’re beautiful.”
I don’t have time to process the way those words make my heart beat faster, because his mouth is on me again, kissing a path down my stomach, his stubble abrading my skin in the most delicious way. His hands slide under my thighs, spreading me open, and I should feel self-conscious, but the way he’s looking at me, like I’m something rare, something precious, melts every last reservation.
Then his tongue is on me, and I cry out, my fingers flying to his hair. He groans against my core, the vibration making my hips jerk, and his hands tighten on my thighs, holding me still as he licks me slow and deep, like he’s savouring every inch of me. My legs tremble, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps as he works me over. His tongue circling my clit, his lips sealing around it to suck gently, his fingers teasing my entrance.
“Jack—” His name breaks on a moan, my head thrashing against the pillow. “Please, I—”
“I know,” he murmurs against my skin, his breath hot. “I’ve got you.”
And then his fingers are inside me, two of them, curling just right, and his mouth is back on my clit, sucking hard, and I shatter. The orgasm rips through me, my body bowing off the bed, my cries filling the room. Jack doesn’t let up, licking me through it, his fingers still moving inside me, drawing out every last shuddering wave until I’m boneless, spent.
He presses a final, lingering kiss to my inner thigh before crawling back up my body, his cock a heavy, insistent presence against my hip. I straighten my glasses and reach for him, my hands shaking, but he catches my wrists and pins them above my head, his eyes burning into mine.
“Condom,” he grits out. “Now. Before I lose what’s left of my fucking mind.”
I nod toward my handbag on the desk. “Side pocket.” I make a mental note to send Chloe a thank-you cake for insisting I bring some with me and then equipping me for what feels like a small-scale orgy.
He’s off the bed in a flash, rummaging through my bag with a desperation that makes me laugh breathlessly. He finds the condom, tears the packet open with his teeth, and rolls it on with practiced ease. When he turns back to me, his expression is almost feral, his cock jutting out proudly.
“Last chance to tell me to stop,” he says, his voice a low growl as he climbs back onto the bed, his knees spreading my thighs wide.
I wrap my legs around his waist, my heels digging into the small of his back. “Don’t you dare.”
That’s all it takes. He surges forward, his cock sliding home in one long, smooth thrust, and we both groan, the sound raw and guttural. He’s big, stretching me in a way that borders on pain, but god, it’s good. He stills for a moment, his forehead pressing to mine, his breath coming in ragged gasps, fogging up my glasses.
“Fuck,” he whispers. “You feel…”
I don’t let him finish. I rock my hips up, taking him deeper, and his control snaps. He starts to move, his thrusts hard and deep, the bed creaking beneath us. Every time he bottoms out, his pelvis grinds against my clit, sending sparks of pleasure skittering through me. His mouth finds mine again, his kisses messy and desperate, his hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise.
“Touch yourself,” he orders, his voice rough. “I want to feel you come on my cock.”
I don’t hesitate. My hand slides between us, my fingers finding my clit, circling in time with his thrusts. The dual sensation is overwhelming, the coil of pleasure tightening inside me with every snap of his hips.
“That’s it,” he groans, his breath hot against my ear. “Just like that. Fuck, you’re perfect.”
His words send me tumbling over the edge again, my body clamping down around him as I come, my nails raking over his back. He follows with a guttural cry, his cock pulsing inside me as he spills into the condom, his thrusts turning jerky and uneven before he collapses on top of me, his heart hammering against my chest.
For a long moment, neither of us moves. His weight is delicious, his skin slick with sweat, his breath warm against my neck. I can feel his heartbeat slowing, the tension easing from his muscles. He presses a kiss to my shoulder, then another to the corner of my mouth, before rolling onto his side to take off the condom and pulling me against his chest.
"Careful, my glasses," I laugh and catch them before they slide off.
"Sorry," he mumbles but pulls me closer anyway.
I lie there for a moment, trying to remember how breathing works.
Everything feels warm. Heavy in that good way. Like my body has forgotten how to be tense.
Jack’s arm is still around me, his hand resting low on my back, his thumb moving in slow absent circles like he isn’t even awarehe’s doing it. It feels… grounding. Not possessive. Not casual either. Just there.
“That,” I say eventually, my voice slightly wrecked, “was… not in the original work plan.”
