by Kat Catesby
We lay in contented silence for so long that I doze in and out of consciousness, never letting myself fall completely as I try to maximize my time with Jackson instead of wasting it on sleeping.
“Don’t fight it, Angel,” his voice hushed like a lullaby. “I’ll be here in the morning. Get some sleep.” He strokes my hair rhythmically, soothing me enough to allow sleep to creep in, but I hold out for one last moment.
“I need you to know something,” I say, my voice thick with sleep. “I really missed you.”
I feel Jackson’s sharp intake of breath and the firm contraction of his muscles as he holds me tightly.
“I know I don’t remember our old life and what we were to each other, and that I haven’t spent a lot of time with you as I am now – and when I have, I’ve been a pain in the ass. I know I freaked out the first time and that I don’t know you half as much as I would like or half as well as you know me. Despite all that, I missed you. So much it hurt at times, and I just wanted you to know that,” my voice is barely a whisper by the time I finish.
I wait with bated breath for him to say something and when he finally does, several things happen at once.
He exhales my name in a rush of breath I didn’t know he was holding, grabs my chin with his fingers and kisses me hard, desperately, like the taste of me is the only thing keeping him alive.
Every fiber of my burning body strains to be closer to Jackson, to be intrinsically entwined with him, our bodies melded together from the smoldering heat and seismic pressure of our desire. My desperation for him obliterates the boundaries I needed earlier, swallowing me whole.
I’m lost to him, surrendering completely; four years of separation have taken its toll more than I ever thought it would.
Jackson’s tongue delves into my mouth, exploring and devouring with exceptional skill, his teeth nipping at my bottom lip, my jaw, my neck. I can feel his need for me, taste how lost he is to me. Both of us surrendering total power to the other; he is completely mine and I am helplessly his.
We stay this way; a mass of tangled limbs, grasping, clawing and kissing furiously for what feels like hours. I briefly wonder how it is that I’m able to breathe; I must be drawing breath directly from him because he doesn’t allow enough space between us for me to breathe naturally. My insides are molten, the heat rising, liquefying me further; what we’re doing just isn’t enough.
I make the first move, tracing the outline of his chest and his abs as my fingers travel south to the impressive bulge in his boxers. His cock is as hard, rigid and unyielding as every other chiseled inch of him as I rub my palm along his thick length. When my fingers reach the sensitive tip, his breath leaves him in a hot rush against my collarbone, and I feel his sharp teeth graze against the sensitive skin of my neck, sending shockwaves of pleasure pulsing through my body and collecting in my core. I had no idea the sharpness could feel so good.
“You won’t be needing these,” I say breathlessly as my index finger pings the elastic of his boxers against his taut abdomen.
“Are you sure?” his eyes are wide and wary; like I’m made of glass and will shatter if he makes one wrong move.
“I’m not running anywhere,” I assure him, trying to keep my voice light. “Besides, this is my room.”
He covers my hand with his, holding it firmly against his hot, throbbing cock, guiding me up and down his length faster than I was before. I marvel again at how he managed to fit inside me before. I remember the aching fullness, the deepness, the spine-tingling sensation of being so physically invaded by him I couldn’t register anything but his presence grinding into me, working my overheated, delirious body…
…And I can feel how wet I am from the memory alone.
He kneels between my legs, freeing himself so that his cock is thick and heavy in my hands; smooth as satin skin encasing a steel core with angry veins that throb with every pulse of his desire.
Jackson places his hands on my ass and lifts so that he can pull my panties away from my now very wet pussy before slipping two fingers inside me. He pumps them gently, curling them and massaging, testing my readiness, his touch stoking the bright, hot flames of my need. I gasp his name as he withdraws them before sliding them back into me, rougher this time, stretching me, his deep eyes burning into mine.
“Fuck, you’re so ready for me,” he growls, pulling me onto his lap so that I’m straddling him, his lips finding mine for a ravenous kiss.
When we break apart gasping for air, I pull his sweater over my head so that we are both naked…skin on blistering skin. His fingers lightly trace my cheekbones, stroke down my neck, dance across my collarbone and settle on my breasts. Jackson rolls my peaked nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, increasing the pressure and pinching slightly, before taking the aching weight of them and tilting his head closer to lap my tortured buds into his hot, wet mouth. The feel of him sucking on such a sensitive part of me has me desperate to feel all of him against me…to take all of him inside me.
Jackson kisses me again, forcing me to swallow my moan. One arm snakes around the base of my back to clamp hold of my hip, while his other hand tugs and rolls my nipples harder, sending biting spikes of blissful pain straight to my clit.
“Yes…just like that,” I gasp against his sensual lips.
“Next time I’m going to eat your dripping little pussy for hours. I want to taste you on my tongue, so I’m going to make you come all over my face until the pleasure is so unbearable you be me to stop. Next time. But tonight, I need to be in you so fucking bad, Emilia.”
“Oh god, I want that. I want it all.”
Jackson’s arm tightens around me and lifts me enough so that he can guide the bulbous crown of his dick into the soaked folds of my aching pussy. I’ve never been so desperately aroused; it’s almost painful how much my body craves his.
He slides me down the length of his shaft, inch by torturous inch, until I’ve taken him balls deep and he has my body, beading with sweat, pressed flush against his. One hand fists my hair, the other holds my hips firmly in place as he flexes into me, driving his solid length deeper as he claims my mouth in another toe-curling kiss, my lips swollen with desire.
I’m under no illusion that he’s topping from the bottom, but he’s so good at it that I’m happy to let him work my body into a frenzy.
We move in our own delicious rhythm; him grinding upwards and against the blinding spot that makes my muscles clench and shudder, while I writhe down to meet each of his thrusts in blissful unison.
We gasp and groan, fingers clawing at each other, frantic lips kissing any piece of flesh they can, our teeth skimming and nipping at each other as we rock back and forth. Jackson slides out a little, before thrusting back inside me firm and hard, nudging my g-spot each time. I can feel the white-hot fire spreading from my core, my muscles coiled and tense and begging for release. I want my building climax to rip through me, tearing my body apart…I’m on the edge…so close…
…I’m so consumed by Jackson and my need to come that I don’t hear the knock on my door.
I don’t see Wilhelmina walking into my room to check up on me…until she’s already stepped inside.
Chapter Thirteen
Jackson hears her sharp intake of breath and stills inside me, his muscles going rigid. I shrink further into his chest so that Wilhelmina cannot see my nakedness, only his sculpted, naked back.
“How dare you just walk in,” I snap.
I’m irritated at her presumption that she can just walk into my room when she feels like it and that, yet again, I’ve been denied a Jackson-induced orgasm.
“When a knock goes unanswered, it usually means there’s no one home or that they are busy. It doesn’t mean come on in and snoop around.”
“I suggest you walk back out the way you came, Matron,” Jackson is terse and clearly just as annoyed at the interruption as I am.
I peer over his shoulder and see a bit of color returning to Wilhelmina’s shocked, deathly-
pale expression.
“In the four years you’ve been here, you’ve never had company in the middle of the night,” she tries to sound assured and even, but her voice is shaky.
She’s not wrong. On the few occasions I have dated, I never brought the guy back to my room, we always went to his place to fuck. My room is my sanctuary and I never wanted a guy enough to bring him into my safe space.
“That’s doesn’t give you the right to just walk in. There’s no excuse for invading my personal space without permission,” I say through gritted teeth. Honestly, it reminds me of how my parents fail to respect any of my boundaries.
“Perhaps not, but Sophia is awake and she’s asking for you. Mr. Smoak, I think it would be wise for you to get dressed and come back tomorrow.”
She sounds more like her matronly self as she says the one thing that can drag me back to a non-Jackson related reality; Sophia.
“I’ll say it again, Matron, leave the room. Now,” Jackson’s voice is hostile.
Mercifully, Wilhelmina retreats and closes the door behind her, although I’m not stupid enough to think she’s walked far.
“I can’t believe we were just busted by Matron Price. Now I know how Sonya felt when I fell through your door. She got to come, at least – I’m fed up with never getting to that point,” I huff.
“Angel,” he chuckles, “you have a one-track mind.”
“I do when this is in me,” I say and clench my pussy around the hard cock still impaling me to make my point. “Will I see you tomorrow?”
“Sorry, Angel. I have to drive back to Dartmouth to finish up school so that I can graduate on Friday.”
I can’t help looking deflated. Just as we’re making progress, the moment is ruined by Wilhelmina and then by him leaving.
“But, I’m all yours next weekend and we will finish what we started.” This time he flexes in me, his lips finding mine, causing my mind to go blank.
Next weekend feels like forever away.
“I graduate on Tuesday, so I’ll be back living with my parents by then, just until I figure out what’s next for me.”
I wonder to myself how difficult it’ll be to get away with fucking like rabbits under their roof and quickly dismiss the idea as terrible. Jackson is a successful business owner, I’m sure he’s got his own place we can escape to.
“I can handle your parents, Emilia, don’t worry about that.”
I don’t doubt his ability, it’s my parent’s capacity to not freak out at the idea of me being with an Avidite. They’ll argue that I’ve not reached my prime yet and could still be hurt – or worse. Truth is, six years is the longest maturity takes and there’s nothing to indicate when a Guardian officially becomes immortal. I’ve been maturing for four years already, so could have hit my prime already. My parents won’t see it that way though, which leaves me with the bitter thought of having to hide my relationship; somehow, I don’t see Jackson being okay with that idea.
I push away my worries and ask a question I’ve wondered about for a while.
“How many degrees do you have?”
“A few,” he smirks as I play with strands of his dark hair. “I switch between running my companies and then when I get bored, I go back to college to learn something new. Obviously, I’m restricted to attending colleges that have the knowledge and understand my never aging predicament, which is why there’s normally a group of us at the same college at the same time. We can fake high school diplomas, birth dates, etc. but it’s just easier to just go to a school where you don’t have to tell those sorts of lies. Full disclosure though, being a student gets old real quick. Going from being a successful businessman with a comfortable lifestyle to slumming it in a frat house takes some getting used to. But we have to keep up the pretense of being students. I’m committed to furthering my knowledge, and once I commit to something, I don’t quit.”
“Wow. That’s, um…” I trail off, not sure what to say.
“It’s not so bad, college can be fun,” he says with a wicked gleam in his eyes and another flex of his hips.
How is he still hard?
“Unless you want Wilhelmina beating down the door, I wouldn’t distract me,” I say, but my heart isn’t in it. “Were you in town on business?” I ask, not wanting our time to be over but thinking I should move the conversation to safer, non-sexual territory... although, that’s easier said than done with Jackson Smoak’s impressive cock still inside me.
“I had to attend a meeting and decided to stay for the weekend.”
“Well, I’m very glad you did.”
“You and me both,” he says, sealing his lips to mine and treating me to one last delicious thrust before withdrawing.
My muscles clench in protest, trying futilely to lock him in place inside me, but soon enough I’m empty, strangely void and hollow. Jackson is the biggest man I’ve ever had the pleasure of being with; he claims me, stretches me and fills me, and afterward, I feel the mark he’s left on my body and my heart. He creates an absence within me shaped specifically to him…and I would really like him to fill it again. Now.
“I’m not ashamed to say that I hate it when you withdraw.”
“I’m not ashamed to admit that I’d spend all day inside you if I could get away with it,” he winks.
Being done by Jackson all day is a thought I can get on board with, especially when he’s still naked and I have a serious itch that only he can scratch.
My dirty thoughts play across my face as Jackson has to remind me that I’m supposed to be dressing to see Sophia.
We dress – far too quickly for my liking – and I insist on wearing his sweater, which now smells like him again since it got mashed between our bodies at some point during our frenzy.
Walking out of my room hand in hand, my heart sinks when we reach the top of the stairs and I see that Matron Price has called Tristan.
My former friend stands in the entryway in a sleep crumpled t-shirt and sweatpants, wearing a grim expression.
Jackson’s spine stiffens and annoyance flashes in his eyes, but somehow, he contains his anger…I do not.
“What the hell are you playing at Wilhelmina? How dare you interfere in my life like this? If I decide to have a relationship, sexual or otherwise, that’s my prerogative and none of your damn business. It certainly doesn’t justify you calling my fucking bodyguard!” I shout.
“Don’t talk to the Matron that way, Emilia,” warns Tristan.
“No. Don’t any of you dare try to claim any moral high ground and justify yourselves. Neither of you has the right to interfere in my personal life. I don’t need permission to enforce my own boundaries as an adult and I can’t believe my autonomy means so little that you both can just disregard my wishes and feelings when it suits you. There is no justification for either of your behavior, and if you try and defend her again by patronizing me, Tristan – by trying to make me into the person at fault – then you and I will fall out in a way that makes our earlier argument look like a walk in the fucking park.”
“We’re just worried about you,” pleads Wilhelmina.
“As the lady said; you don’t have the right to invade her privacy, either of you,” Jackson’s voice is low, cold and full of steel.
Wilhelmina visibly quakes under his intense glare.
I grip his hand tighter for support.
“I’ve tolerated you both sending reports to my parents for years like I’m some clueless toddler. I accepted this overbearing and oppressive invasion of my life without question or complaint, but it’s time that all of you – my parents included – learn to respect my choices. I am a grown woman and I’m not going to stand for this level of interference any longer. You better not have called my parents, Tristan?” I’m furious and I don’t give a fuck who hears. I’m so far past giving a shit; this is my life for fuck sake.
Tristan looks uncomfortable and when he answers he isn’t his usual calm and authoritative self. “I had to explain about the Sophia incident aft
er I checked in late –”
“Checked in late? Are you telling me my parents were informed that I was having a night out with my friends and that you were sending them updates? This isn’t NORMAL, Tristan!” I shout at him.
“I’m sorry, but it’s been the status quo for years –”
“Only because I’m obviously clueless as to how much you and my parents spy on me. At this rate, I could probably get a restraining order against all of you.”
“Emilia, stop. Your parents were concerned about what happened with Sophia and planned to visit you tomorrow, but then Miles answered the call from Matron Price and informed both me and your parents about Jackson; they’ll be here first thing.”
“Stop. Telling. Me. What. To. Do. I am twenty-two fucking years old.”
“And what exactly is so wrong with me that her parents need to make an emergency visit?” I can hear the edge to Jackson’s voice and admire his composure, even though the anger radiating from him is unmistakable.
“You’re an Avidite,” answers Wilhelmina shakily.
“And I thought we lived in an age, and you lived in a sorority, which preaches tolerance and acceptance of all supernaturals,” retorts Jackson. “You don’t seem very tolerant now, you judgmental, hypocritical…”
Jackson trails off before he loses control completely.
“I’m firing you,” I whisper, all the air knocked out of me by how little control I appear to have over my own life. It’s like I’m a possession and every move I make is the rightful knowledge of my parents and security team.
“You can’t make that call, Emilia,” says Tristan calmly.
“Yes, I can. I may not be able to end your employment with my parents, but I refuse to have you or your team anywhere near me from now on. And with the way I feel right now, I’m not opposed to extending the stay away treatment to my parents as well. I don’t think I’ll be moving back in with them following graduation.”
“You can stay with me, Angel,” Jackson says gently, holding me close.
“I really don’t think –”