my force, and my breath heavies and staggers as I push in and out, creating beautiful intoxicating friction. Jack’s erection slides against my abs, and I reach down to give him a few pumps. Pre-cum coating my palm.
When I pull away, he has this tortured look in his eyes. He’s about to reach down.
I slow my thrusts so that I can take his hand and put it back on his head. “Do me a favor, Long Beach,” I say in heavy breath. “Keep your hands on your head.”
A. It’s fucking adorable.
B. I don’t want him touching himself tonight.
He gives me a worried look. “Then I can’t touch you, Os.”
Ah, yes. This is his insecurity about being selfish. “You don’t need to touch me,” I tell him. “I’m inside you, Highland.”
His face flames. “God.” His muscles twitch. And he nods, a moan rough on its way out. “You feel good inside me.”
I’m on a fucking ascent right now. Nerves pricking, blood cranked up. And I rock against him in two hard movements that cause his eyes to snap closed. “Os.”
“You alright?” I ease to a gentler rhythm.
His eyes open slowly, his hands fisting his hair. “Dude, please do that again.”
I pump in two jackhammer movements that cause a deep, guttural groan from his chest. It blazes every nerve-ending in my body, and I press closer as I keep a steadier pace. Something that won’t make him too sore tomorrow.
Thrusting my hips, flexing smoothly down and in.
My hand returns to his length. He shudders after two strokes, and I pull away again. The whimper on his lips sounds fragile. Our foreheads slide together. Breaths melding. “Os,” he pleads.
“Not yet,” I whisper.
My movements have slowed so much that I feel him trembling against me. Like he craves those two hard pumps either from my hand or my cock and I’m giving him neither.
But I want to eke out every last second of this.
If this is all we have.
Sweat coats our bodies, built between us like a blanket of heat. My hair sticks to my forehead, and Jack takes a hand off his head. Just to push my hair back for me. Tenderness wraps around us, and we’re practically cradling each other as I rock in and out of him. His muscled chest glistens in sweat, and he leaves his palm on my head. Fingers threaded into my hair now. I’m thanking every star and moon and sun for sending him to me.
My body aches for a pleasured release, and when I up the pace, Jack’s fingers coil in my hair. “OsOsOs.”
“Fuck,” I moan and groan, grabbing onto the headboard as I push harder, wanting deeper.
He glances down at his erection like he wants that touch.
I press my lips to his forehead. “No hands, meu raio de sol.”
Hand clutching the headboard, I thrust two more times with a firm, direct goal. I feel him shudder in a full-body release, and mine happens seconds later. The out-of-the-universe climax drains oxygen from my brain, and it takes a second to catch my bearings.
Slowly, I roll off him, and he immediately pulls me back into his arms. Hanging his bicep over my sweaty chest. We’re curled up together. Limbs threaded. Neither of us bother getting underneath the covers. “Oscar,” Jack breathes.
But that’s all he says.
That’s all he needs to say.
We just made love, and emotion still strings between us like a lit flame. His head buries against the crook of my neck. I am so in love with him.
And I’m so fucking scared of losing him.
37
JACK HIGHLAND
Keeping our marriage quiet for over two weeks has been harder than I thought it’d be. Considering, I’m the one who wanted time to decide on an annulment, I shouldn’t feel this need to tell people that Oscar Oliveira is my husband.
But there I was minding my own business at the WAC offices, eating a ham and cheese sandwich, casually scrolling through some entertainment sites, when I landed on an article about “the Pro” in Security Force Omega. Embedded in the story was a shirtless photo of Oscar. I recognized his yellow bathing suit trunks and the orange bandana. Sand beneath his feet. It was taken in California.
I scrolled to the comment section.
Oscar is HOTT.
Wow! He’s got to be “the pro” in bed, right?
YUM. So when Oscar’s done with Charlie and Jack? Can I get a bite of that?
And that last comment charged me up enough to almost type out the words: You can’t, I’m married to him. Okay, I did