Ruthless In A Suit(48)

“Good morning, beauty,” Jackson greets me as he flips pancakes. “You hungry?”

“I’m starving,” I say. “You cook?”

“A little,” he says. “I love good food, as you know—the restaurant. And I’ve picked up some things here and there from chefs I’ve talked to, including Chef Barton. Sit down.” He motions to the stool on the other side of the island where he’s prepping. He slides a bowl of cut fruit to me—pineapple, red grapes and strawberries. “Coffee?”

“Please,” I say, tucking into the fruit. “This kitchen is gorgeous.” It’s bright with white cabinets and a white marble countertop and stainless steel appliances. A large window at the back looks out onto a garden.

“I don’t get to use it as much as I’d like,” he says, serving up a fresh cup of French press. “Milk? Sugar?”

“Just sugar, thanks,” I say. “More evidence that you need to use this house more. Needs more life in it.”

He smiles. He looks so carefree when he smiles. The buttoned-up, tense, calculating face that I’ve seen too many times disappears when he smiles. I want to be the one who makes him smile more often.

“Maybe that can be arranged,” he says. He winks at me, and I melt. Damn, he is sexy, even in his gray T-shirt and flannel pants. “You like eggs and bacon?”

“Yes,” I say. “Sounds like a lot of food.” I gesture to the fluffy stack of pancakes he’s moving to the island and the fruit bowl I’m working on.

“Just wanted to make sure you were well fed,” Jackson says. “I don’t know what you like.”

I look down at the fruit, blushing. He definitely knows what I like, but I suppose not of the breakfast-food variety. If he weren’t standing in front of a hot oven, I might climb across the island and attack him right here.

“I brought down some clothes for you to wear,” Jackson says. He moves to a chair and picks up a folded pile of clothes. “Although I have to say, the sheet looks stunning wrapped around you. Makes me want to take it right off you.”

“So why don’t you?”

“Don’t make me lose focus when I’m working so hard on this breakfast for you,” he says, although it’s clear from the look in his eyes that he wants me, right now.

“Fine,” I say, and I get to up to inspect the clothes. They’re his, so they’ll be gigantic on me. I do want to tease him a little though, so I drop the sheet off my body in full view of him.

“Emily…”

“What?” I say innocently, exposing my nude body to him. “I’m changing. Like you said.”

“You’re going to make me burn your breakfast.”

“No one is making you do anything,” I say.

His eyes roam my body, which he knows so well now. I turn my back to him and bend over dramatically to pick up a shirt from the chair. I look over my shoulder at him and yep, he’s still watching me. His hand flips a knob on the oven and in two strides he’s got me turned around and gathered up in his arms. His mouth crashes into mine and we cling to each other as if we hadn’t just spent all night with our hands and tongues exploring every inch of each other. His hand cups my breast, and he pulls away from my mouth and sucks my nipple so that I’m already groaning, my fist in his hair, pushing him into me. He really knows how to work that tongue.

In quick time he flips me around again and has my stomach up against the island, pushing me down by the back of my neck so that I’m bent over, ass up, ready for him.

“Is this what you wanted me to do?” he asks, his voice heavy with breath. He keeps on hand on my back and I can feel him digging in his flannel pants, pulling his dick out for me.

“Yes,” I say, arching my back so that my ass perks up for him. “Take me, Jackson.”

“Spread your legs.”

I do as he says, the cold marble helping to cool down my hot skin. I rest my flushed cheek on it. With no warning I feel his dick at my entrance, so used and stretched from the last twelve hours, and so wet just from the sight of him this morning. Jackson thrusts his enormous cock inside me, and I cry out in pleasure. He holds my hips and continues his slow, powerful pumping into my needy cunt, his soft grunts making me wish I could see him. Feeling him fill me up, picturing his contorted face as he digs into me is enough to make me groan at every thrust. I match his rhythm as I jerk back my hips to push more of him into me. He’s on me in just the right spot now, and our animal grunts are in sync as he takes me so close.

“I’m close, I’m close,” he says.