School of Fish (Fish Out of Water #6) - Amy Lane Page 0,55
his head popped through, and Ellery hmmed in his throat in welcome. “Good?” Jackson asked.
“More.”
“Excellent.”
Jackson snapped his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt, luxuriating in Ellery’s full-throated cry of welcome.
He’d planned to go slow, to take Ellery apart inch by inch, to put his lover first in every moment, but Ellery dug his nails into Jackson’s biceps and begged.
“God, Jackson, fuck me hard. I need….”
And so did Jackson. He needed it hard, needed it fast, needed it now. He lunged, hips pumping, chest heaving, suddenly needing Ellery’s sex more than he needed to breathe. He pounded hard, relentlessly, chasing his own orgasm in the haven of Ellery’s body, drunk on Ellery’s cries of want, of pleasure, of joy.
“Oh God, Jackson. Right there—yes! Please. Oh God. So close!”
Jackson sat back and threw Ellery’s knees over his shoulders, giving Ellery room to grab his own cock as Jackson thrust. He did, beautiful, abandoned, eyes squeezed shut as his body clenched around Jackson. All at once Ellery gave a cry, and his ass squeezed so tight around Jackson’s cock that Jackson couldn’t move.
That and the sight of come shooting across Ellery’s pale abdomen, his chest, was all Jackson needed to send him over.
“Jackson!” Ellery cried and Jackson pumped come into his body, spending everything, heart and soul, as his vision washed black and then white and his molecules came undone.
Ellery spread his legs and allowed Jackson to fall forward, sliding out of his body in a gush of spend. Jackson paused and licked up Ellery’s stomach, tasting Ellery’s own spend, pausing at his nipples to suck, making his way along the tender line of his throat.
Their kiss was warmth and comfort and the intoxication of knowing they were both replete.
Ellery gave a satisfied sigh, and Jackson rolled to the side a little, kissing Ellery’s shoulder.
“You good?” he asked, needing more than the sigh tonight.
“Much better,” Ellery said, meeting his eyes in the scant light. They’d left the bedroom door open, and the light from the dining room spilled in. “You?”
Jackson kissed his shoulder again. “As long as you are,” he said. That moment when he’d ducked and Ellery had taken the blow replayed itself behind his eyes. “Next time I won’t duck.”
“No,” Ellery corrected. “You go ahead and duck. But next time I will too.”
Jackson regarded him affectionately. “You, Counselor, take every blow on the chin. You are constitutionally incapable of ducking. I just need to factor that in.”
Ellery chuckled, and the air around them lightened, dispelled by the lovemaking, by their playfulness, by their joy at being together. “I can too duck,” he said. “I just need to duck faster.”
Jackson chuckled too and then kissed him again. “Stay here,” he murmured. “I’ll be back.” He rolled out of bed and slid his basketball shorts on commando.
“Where are you going?” Ellery asked, rolling to his side.
“I’m gonna do the dishes and bring you ice cream in bed,” Jackson told him, flashing a smile over his shoulder. “Do you mind?”
Ellery’s lips parted softly, reminding Jackson of how often Ellery was the one doing the considerate-lover things.
“No,” he said, smiling a little. “Not at all.”
Jackson made short work of their dinner dishes and then grabbed a carton of rocky road ice cream, along with two spoons and a towel to hold it with. He made his way back to the bedroom, pausing to make sure all the doors were locked and the alarm was set and scooping Billy Bob up in his free hand before hitting the light with his shoulder and returning to the bedroom.
Ellery had turned the lamp on by the time he returned and was sitting up in bed, bare-chested, reading his phone.
“Anything interesting?” Jackson asked.
“Yes. I texted Jennifer Probst earlier, while you were in the shower.”
“About the leak?” Clever Ellery—that had been on Jackson’s to-do list the next morning.
“Yes. She gave us some names of people who would have known she was turning the file over to us.”
“Ooh, more people to call. I like it.”
Ellery glanced up from the phone and laughed. “No bowls?” he asked, setting down the phone.
“I set the dishwasher,” Jackson protested. “And who eats our ice cream besides us?”
“Jade, Mike, Henry….” Ellery ticked the names off on his fingers and Jackson realized he was right.
“Come to think of it, Jade used to steal my coffee and ice cream when I lived alone too. And Mike always made himself sandwiches.”
“Henry is new,” Ellery said, reaching out for the carton.