Chapter Twelve
Summer lay back on the large blanket she’d brought for them to set up their picnic. The sandwich, fruit, and veggies had hit the spot, and now she was relaxed. There wasn’t anything scary in the woods beyond their spot next to the lake, no funny noises, just the evening sounds of birds settling down for the night, and crickets and insects starting up their songs.
They’d talked about whatever topics popped into their heads. Summer wanted intel on the Licorice Fiddles. They were her favorite band, and she’d only seen them live once. Jackson talked about getting his job with them—how he’d contacted them online and offered to work for free to help with their online promo until they could pay him. Now that they were starting to tour the western states, they were paying him pretty well, and he’d even been to a couple of shows. He described what it was like working for them, and how they really were as nice in person as they seemed on stage. Then they’d talked about Summer’s work, and the satisfaction she got from a job well done, even when it wasn’t necessarily her passion.
“What do you want to do?” Jackson asked as he packed the leftovers back into her ice chest.
“Exactly what I’m doing,” Summer said. “I like my job, and I like the time it gives me when I come home. Then I can dabble in photography, scrapbook, read—whatever I feel like doing. I never feel like I have to bring work home with me.”
“That would be kind of hard,” Jackson said with a laugh.
“Exactly.” She grinned.
Jackson plopped down next to her. She curled onto her side, facing him, and pressed her nose against his shoulder. He smelled like a mixture of soap and the outdoors—clean man smell—and she inhaled quietly.
“Is this weird?” she asked.
He chuckled. “You smelling my armpit? Yeah, that’s a little weird.”
“What?” She pulled back and glared at him. “I was not smelling your armpit. I’m talking about us. I mean, I never wanted a boyfriend. I still don’t, in fact. But hanging out with you, talking, it’s one of the easiest things I’ve ever done. I’m relaxed, happy, and…I really want to kiss you.”
He turned onto his side. Now they both faced each other. Using the tip of his finger, he traced her chin, her cheeks, her eyebrows. He moved his finger down her nose to her lips, and ran the tip against them. “I really want to kiss you, too,” he said.
She stared at him, waiting. It felt like he was memorizing her face. Probably a good thing, if he was on his way out of town soon. Who knew when they’d see each other again?
Before he could move forward for the kiss, she said, “I hate to spoil the moment, but I just want to know what we’re both expecting from this. I don’t want you to feel bad about leaving Huntwood.”
He pulled her into his arms, and she felt a now-familiar looping feeling in her stomach—a pleased, glad feeling that she got whenever she and Jackson made contact.
“I’m here as long as you’ll let me stay.” He moved his head forward, and kissed her.
Last night had been incredible, the kiss, heavenly. Their first kiss had felt suffused with magic and a buzzing, alcoholic lightness that left her hungry for more.
But this kiss? This was that kiss only a thousand times stronger. Summer gripped his bicep, trying to pull him closer, and closer still. His mouth was firm yet soft, his lips moving against hers slowly and patiently but with extreme heat.
She was going to spontaneously combust, that was it. This man was dangerous because he could melt her clothes off with his lips.
She smiled to herself, that she’d found a superhero kind of guy with the weirdest super power ever. Clothes melting.
“What’s so funny?” he murmured against the corner of her smile.
“The thought of you melting my clothes off.”
He gave a soft, low laugh that ignited even more lust within her. “I really like the idea of your clothes coming off,” he said.
She clutched him, not sure if she wanted to pull him on top of her, or climb on top of him. Frozen by indecision, she kissed him harder, trying to suffuse the kiss with all the want and passion she felt.
He trailed a hand along her side, his fingers catching the edge of her shirt. “May I?” he breathed.
Oh hell yes, he could. “Please,” she panted. “Yes.”
He worked her shirt up her body, his fingers hot on her skin. They skirted the side of her ribcage and caressed the edge of her bra, just beneath her breasts. She wanted him everywhere. All at once. Jackson. She wanted to be a part of him, and never let go.
She wriggled and moved her arms, helping him remove her shirt. Before he could reach for her jeans next, she grabbed his shirt. Skin. She wanted his skin against her skin.
He kissed her, his tongue velvety soft on hers, and the sounds around them were sharp and clear as the stars twinkling in the sky. She closed her eyes so she could put more of her thoughts onto Jackson and really experience everything they were giving to each other.
He traced the waistband of her jeans, his touch searing her skin. Goosebumps formed on her legs, prickling.
“This okay?” he asked, rubbing his thumbnail over her zipper.
“Y-yeah,” she said.
He unbuttoned her jeans, then tugged the zipper down, but he didn’t take them off. Instead he moved his hand against her mound, over her panties, rubbing against her clit and pussy. She widened her legs, giving him more access, feeling wanton and not caring in the slightest. Whatever he was offering, she’d gladly take.
“Jackson,” she breathed. The feelings were growing unbearable, building within her to the point where she didn’t know if she could handle it anymore. The lace of her panties rubbed against her skin with every movement of his finger, causing tiny vibrations, making her moan.
“I’m going—oh Jackson, I’m going to come,” she said.
He brought his mouth down to hers, swallowing her cries as she tensed up, her whole body pulsing and frozen at the same time, the feelings moving outward into a bliss so exquisite it defied her thoughts.
He kept his hand against her, cupping her, allowing her to shudder and writhe against him until she was still. Then he gave her one more soft kiss.
Summer blinked up at him, feeling sated but unsure. “What about—what about you?” she asked.
He pressed his cock, hard through his jeans, against her hip. “I’m not worried about me,” he said. “Watching you come was about the hottest thing I ever saw in my life.”
“But…don’t you want to…” She trailed off, unsure how to finish the thought.
He kissed her. “We’ve got time.”
Summer grinned and kissed him back, then reached forward to grip his cock through his jeans. It felt obscenely hard and she smiled wider. “This feels like it might be giving you some trouble,” she said.
“Oh, it’s nothing I can’t handle on my own.”
Summer laughed. “But why do things on your own when you can have”—she squeezed harder and ran her hand up and down the length—”help?”
“Good point.” He groaned when she slid her hand up and down again. “Summer….”
She unfastened his pants, eager to finally see his package. She’d been thinking of only his fingers and his kisses when he made her come, but really, she bet he had a perfect cock.
After shoving down his jeans and boxers, she gaped. He did have a perfect cock. Tall and proud, twitching slightly in the cool evening air now that it was exposed. Faint veins lead up from base to tip.
Without thought, she bent forward and took the tip of it in her mouth.
“Oh,” he said. “Summer, you don’t have to—”
“I want to,” she said, pulling away to speak before thrusting her mouth over him again.
Giving head always made her feel powerful, like a queen. She swallowed as much of his length as she could, moving her tongue around him, sucking gently. From the corner of her eye, she saw him prop his head up on one folded arm. He watched her through half-lidded eyes, intent on her every movement. He felt so good, his skin soft in her mouth, and he tasted like man—a little salty, with the faint outdoorsy scent that she’d come to associate with him.
She wanted more than his fingers in her panties, and she wanted more than his cock in her mouth.
After pulling off of him, she asked, “Do you have a condom?”
“No,” he said, groaning. “I didn’t think—I wasn’t planning—”
She stood up. “Let’s go back to my place.”