Owning It (Metropolis #3)(47)

"Shut up," I tell him. "Shut up before I make you come over here so I can show you just how much I want you." He doesn't feel like he's worthy; his words tell me that. And like he said, not of being a good fuck because we both know that's not the case but because we're so goddamned different.

"There's no one I want right now other than you, and I will have you, Derek, sooner rather than later."

"Can you repeat that?" he asks.

"Which part?"

"All of it."

I sigh, not out of frustration but because I feel this urge to wrap him up and keep him safe. Because I don't want him to ever doubt himself or what he's worth. "I want you, and it doesn't matter how many people I have or haven't fucked or how many people you have or haven't fucked. I want to own your little ass, Derek. I also want to spend time with you. I'm tired of waiting. I need to show you just what you do to me."

There's a pause … Derek gulps and then says, "I'll be right there."





20




Derek


Here I come, Daddy Jackson. And oh, am I ever going to come.

I hurry to the bathroom and take care of some preliminary work. If he's going to have his way with me, I want to make sure I'm good to go.

Not a concern for me because at this point in my life, I'm basically a butt scientist.

When I finish up, I take an Uber to his place since he insisted that I not ride my bike in the dark.

Fine by me as long as he takes care of me the way I need to be taken care of and the sooner, the better.

Once I'm at Spire, making my way to his unit, I find I'm whistling out loud in eager anticipation of what we're going to be doing soon.

I check my phone. I warned him the car had arrived before I entered the building.

I see his last text, Door will be unlocked. Your hole better be too.

I chuckle.

My heart races with excitement, but there's panic behind it.

I can't believe he's only been with one person before.

That kind of freaks me out. Like I know I'm good … really good. I don't feel like that's me being conceited, just really practiced.

Although as much as he hasn't had sex with other people, I keep reminding myself he was spending a lot of time fucking around with his ex-wife, so he must know plenty about what he's doing in the bedroom.

But the idea of just having fucked one person … how is that even possible? That would be like eating only one flavor of ice cream for the rest of my life. Although … I don't imagine that Jackson-flavored anything is something I could ever get bored with.

Still, a part of me feels like I need to call all my power-bottom buds so we can each take turns satisfying Jackson's needs, giving him what he's been craving for so long, fulfilling this side of him he's left dormant … hidden, eagerly needing to satisfy. Of course, fuck them all to hell because I'm the only one he'll be getting up in … if he needs to pretend I'm ten different guys, that's fine, but this ass can handle whatever Jackson gives it. And I hope he does a lot of fucking giving.



       
         
       
        

I open the door to his unit and step inside. I've hooked up with guys who have the same floor plan. One bedroom. The kitchen's on the right with a walkway beside the bar that leads to the living area. He still has a few boxes tucked by a brown leather couch on the other side of the room in front of the glass windows of his balcony. A few panels of artwork of a black and white car-not sure of the make or model-hang on the wall over the couch. Reminds me of the story he told me about the dickhead who threw away his model cars.

He steps through the doorway to his bedroom and approaches me, wearing a black shirt that fits tight against his body, and dark faded jeans.

"That's a lot more clothes than I was expecting," I tease as I step around a recliner adjacent to the couch, meeting him halfway. I indicate the artwork over the couch. "What kind of car is that?"

"A Mercedes-Benz 300 SL Cabrio."

"You could have just said a Mercedes-Benz. You're talking to an amateur here. Only when it comes to cars, though."

His expression turns serious. "You Ubered here, right? Because I swear, if you biked here-"

"What? You're going to fuck me harder? Not exactly a threat, is it?"

"I was going to say I was definitely giving you a ride home, but-"

"Maybe if you give me a good ride now, I'll let you give me one home, too."

"Now I get to see if you're all talk, boy."

"I don't need to talk, but I like to make a lot of noise."

"You wore your Power Bottom shirt?" he asks with a smirk.

"I didn't want you to get confused."