Page 34 of When the Sun Rises
That drew me up short.
“What do you mean? It’s causing problems as it is,” I grumbled.
“Well… Ya know.” Jackson glanced over when I didn’t respond to his remark, and my face must have told him I still wasn’t following his meaning because he made a loose fist with his hand and shuttled it up and down a few times in a universal signal. “Can’t imagine it feels the same using the other hand.”
I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “That’s not going to be a problem.”
I meant my dick hadn’t even been able to muster the strength of an erection—much less an orgasm—until very recently, but Jackson wasn’t privy to that knowledge. His tongue poked out to wet his lips before a sultry smile slowly spread across them. That was all it took for my once stubbornly uninterested cock to twitch and my mind to be flooded with memories of what that tongue had done to said cock.
“No. Guess it won’t be, huh?” His voice was low, just like it’d been in his room, and he shot me a wink.
I cleared my throat, trying to shift in my seat. See? I knew this was going to be a terrible idea, now he thought I was interested in another round with that… very talented mouth.
You are interested in another round.
But I shouldn’t be. It was wrong. He was too young. We were employee and boss.
“I’m sorry I fell asleep. After,” I found myself saying, despite all the internal noise.
Jackson glanced at me from the corner of his eye, maybe gauging if we were really having this conversation now, but then he gave a shake of his head. “It’s fine. You obviously needed the sleep.”
“I don’t usually… Reciprocation is important to me. I’ve never left someone… unsatisfied.” My cheeks burned as I forced the words out around a dry tongue.
An impish grin spread over his face and a chuckle was in his voice as he spoke. “Trust me, Tucker. I was notunsatisfied.”
“No?”
“No. I, uh… I took care of it in the bathroom before I went back out tofeed.” He rubbed a finger over his lower lip, the gesture having no right to be as sexy as it was, his smile still firmly in place.
Fuck.
I was almost pissed I hadn’t been awake to witness that—to have helped him with it. Because God, I knew he would have been devastatingly beautiful as he did it. The visual of Jackson standing in the communal bathroom, back pressed against the door, shirt shoved into his mouth to stifle his moans as he fucked his fist till he was shooting ropes of cum and biting back cries ofmyname assaulted me. I ran my good hand down my face.
I wanted that. I wanted it so bad. But I wanted it to be my hand bringing him pleasure.
“Shoulda been me,” I croaked, and I caught Jackson’s heated gaze, sure there was fire burning in my own eyes.
“Next time.” He looked so smug and full of confidence there would be a next time.
And for the life of me, I couldn’t remember why there shouldn’t be in that moment.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
JACKSON
Next time.
Fuck, I couldn’t wait.
Not that Tucker specifically confirmed there would be a next time in words, but the heated look he’d sent me was soaked in promise. I’d almost considered pulling over to see if “next time” could become “right now.” But I hadn’t, and I was kicking myself because now it seemed like the idea of next time had become a far-fetched theory rather than a near future event.
Tucker had actually been fairly compliant with his healing regime, aside from a few times he’d been found trying to muck out a stall and another where he’d been carrying full water buckets with his bad hand. But it’d been a long two weeks.
He wasn’t the kind of man to stay idle, so we all knew this abbreviated time off had been eating away at him. In a weird way, though, I understood what he must have been going through. The itch under his skin and the longing to be doing something you knew you shouldn’t.
It was a special kind of restraint I’d been employing while tryingto keep my hands off the man since the only time I’d seen him had been in mixed company. I felt like I was going crazy, again, but this time it was so much worse. Knowing what Tucker tasted like. Knowing what he sounded like.
A fire was inside me, and I was dying from the slow burn of it. Sitting next to him for every shared meal was a new form of torture because every brush of his elbow against mine or the soft graze of fingers passing dishes sent me right back to my knees looking up into molten whiskey eyes, half lidded with lust. It was like having a feast of all my favorite foods laid out before me then told to wait like a dog. I was salivating. Hungry and desperate for more but unable to take a bite.
