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The drive to Jack's house was largely silent, the thrill of epiphany still spiking the air with electric charge as Jack drove his old Jeep away from the city center.
It was real. It was beyond her wildest hopes. Jack wanted her, really wanted her. Not in the casual way he could generate a spark of chemistry with anyone in his proximity. He'd confessed that the only reason she'd been exempt from the easy charm he volleyed about with others was because what he wanted from her was something much deeper than clever banter. He’d asked for her next thirty years.
Samira had been awake for nearly thirty hours but her mind raced, trying to make heads or tails of where they had ended up—of where they were headed.
She'd never been to Jack's house—assumed he kept an apartment near enough to the hospital to be there with immediacy in the event he was needed. He surprised her by driving out past the city center through neighborhoods she'd never explored.
Though he kept his eyes straight ahead, Jack reached over and placed his large hand on her thigh, high enough to be suggestive, not quite high enough to be lascivious. His thumb stroked back and forth across her abductor magnus and even through the thick fabric of her sweatpants, it filled her body with warmth, heat spreading between her thighs, energizing her tired mind more than she would have thought possible.
Jack, for his part, seemed casual, humming along to some soft rock song crooning low through the stereo. Samira turned to face him and though his eyes didn't leave the road, a grin pulled at the corners of his mouth.
Don't think about his mouth, Samira thought to herself out of sheer force of habit before abruptly chuckling, at the contradiction—at the reason she was in Jack's car to begin with.
"Something funny?" Jack asked, turning briefly to face her.
"Not really, no." She shook her head, lowering her face in embarrassment.
"You laughed," he accused. "Which, I'm not complaining. I love the sound of your laugh. I'd just also like to know what prompted it this time."
"It's a little embarrassing," she admitted.
"Hmmmmm."
"What?" she asked, puzzled at his non-response.
"It's just that in my experience, this," he said with emphasis, broad hand gripping her thigh in earnest by way of explanation, "Usually goes a lot smoother when people are honest. Sex is...embarrassing. And silly. And if you're lucky, great because of those things, not in spite of them. That openness—or the lack of it I guess—it was part of what made the whole casual sex thing wildly unfulfilling. Even when it was great sex, there was something missing."
Right. Because sex was the reason they were driving through the quiet streets of Perry North. Sex. Then sleep. Then pancakes, they’d agreed. And though desire burned through her veins, so too did apprehension.
Emotions warred inside of Samira, embarrassment somewhat quieted, overwhelmed by other feelings, sadness for Jack that sex had been something in the past that he'd used to avoid feeling, jealousy of the people he'd been with, even if, by his own admission, it had been lacking. Not for the first time that day, insecurity overcame her as she realized the chasm between their experience. A fear surfaced that she, too, would be a disappointment for Jack.
"I just. I started thinking about your mouth. And then I stopped myself out of habit. Then realized I didn't have to stop like I usually would. Because we're driving to your house. Together. To presumably...." she trailed off.
He chuckled before his features turned soft.
"We don't have to, you know. This is so new. I'm not going to hold you to plans made in the heat of the moment, baby," he assured her, his thumb returning to its soothing rhythm against her thigh. "If you want to sleep, we can just lay down and sleep. If you want me to take you home, I can take you home. There's no rush."
Jack's insistence that the choice was hers, that he would be happy to take things at her pace, seemed to have the inverse effect. She felt her cheeks heat. "No. Not. No. I definitely want to–" she stopped. "Unless you don't want to–"
Jack's lips quirked again. He inhaled then exhaled deeply. "I'm not entirely sure I've ever wanted anything more than I want you right now," he reassured her, his voice scraping over the words I want you in a way that had her reflexively squeezing her legs together, Jack's hand pressed between them for just a moment before she realized.
She readjusted, opening her legs to free his hand. "Sorry," she eeked out.
"No apology needed, Samira," he assured her, but he pulled his hand from her leg and she looked to him with panicked apologetic eyes before he reached for the gear shift with his now free hand, putting this car in park in front of a modest craftsman, muted green with a picturesque front porch. "This is me," he gestured towards the house.
Samira's eyes went wide.
He pulled the key from the ignition. "Do you want to come in?"
"Yeah, yes. Definitely," she agreed, pulling open the door handle.
Jack walked around to meet her, closing the passenger door before intertwining their fingers and leading her up the front steps.
Samira stepped through the heavy wooden door he opened for her, into a warm-wooded foyer. The house was nothing like the neutral messy bachelor pad she'd expected from someone with Jack's workaholic tendencies. Framed pictures covered the walls. A stained-glass chandelier hung above them, simple, but throwing morning light in all colors and all directions.
Jack cleared his throat, interrupting her ogling. "Umm," Jack said, a little nervous. "If you could take your shoes off..."
Samira laughed with an ease she hadn't felt all day. "Yeah, Jack. I'm not gonna wear shoes around your house. I'm not a monster," she offered, toeing off her shoes, lining them up in front of a bench near the door that Samira assumed made navigating shoes with a prosthetic more manageable.
Jack confirmed this theory, sitting down to pull off his boots, lining them up next to hers. The sight of their shoes lined up in Jack’s foyer flipped her stomach pleasantly for reasons she didn't completely understand.
Jack shrugged. "Some people are weird about it. I'm always having to remind Robby."
Samira wrinkled her nose in disgust. "We work in a hospital."
Jack's clear bright laugh in response clouded her mind somewhat. "I'm not saying it's not gross. His judgement is questionable at the best of times."
Samira tilted her head in acknowledgement. "I'm not disagreeing with that, but is there any way we could not talk about Robby right now. When we're about to..."
Jack's eyes narrowed. He nodded but his expression warred between bemused pensive as he grabbed her hand and walked her into a well lit living room—pulled her down to sit next to him on a cognac leather sofa. He turned his body to face hers and looked in her eyes and dropped a hand onto her leg. "Okay."
"Okay?" She asked, nerves overtaking her. The abruptness of him leading her here combined with the neutral look on his face gave Samira the feeling of being in trouble, a called-to-the-principal's-office pit in her stomach. "Did I do something wrong? Did I mess this up already?"
His hazel eyes softened at the question as he reached out and tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear. Samira's heart pounded in her chest, and she couldn't tell if it was from the gesture or in anticipation of a dressing down.
"Is that what's happening here? You think you're gonna mess this up, sweetheart?" Jack asked gently.
Heat flooded Samira's face. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Honey, you do realize that you haven't even managed to say the word 'sex' out loud?" he prompted. "You've had sex, right?"
Indignation and embarrassment pooled in her gut. "I've had sex! I can say sex!"
"Okay. Good start. Can you tell me what you're so worried about?" He reached an arm around her and pulled her closer, any closer and she'd be in his lap, a thought she found appealing but left alone.
"Who says I'm worried," she challenged with bravado she did not truly feel.
Jack looked as though he saw right through her, just blinked and waited.
"Okay. So maybe I'm a little worried," she admitted.
Sincerity burned in his eyes. "Samira, if you're not sure, it's a no. Anything but an enthusiastic yes is a no."
"I want to. I promise. I really want to. More than I ever have before. I think..." she trailed off, unsure, but the look of patience in Jack's eye encouraged her. "I think that may be the problem."
"How so?" he asked.
"Can I–" she rearranged herself, shifting up into his lap. "Is this okay? I think this might feel easier touching you. And also not looking at your face."
"Yeah," he breathed and swallowed thickly. "More than–" his voice caught. "More than okay. You were saying?"
"I've had sex. But not a lot. And it's never been....great." She found herself embarrassed by the admission of her own deficiency. "It's never been something I wanted this badly. What if I'm the reason it’s never been great? And I just—you've had a lot of sex. Enough to know good from bad which is already more than I know. Enough to know if it’s me. If I'm the problem."
"You're worried we're going to have bad sex? Because you think you're bad at this?"
"Maybe?" she admitted.
"Okay. Is it gonna weird you out too much if this is a teaching moment?" he asked, sliding his hand between where her legs were pressed together on top of his, not quite at the apex but higher than he'd strayed in the truck. Static flooded her brain both at the gesture and at the thought of him adapting the tone and instruction he gave her when teaching her at the hospital but in this context.
"No. Not weird. Definitely not weird."
His lips tilted into a smirk. "Noted. Okay. Couple of things. First, I'd take bad sex with you over good sex with anyone else. Second, you're not the only one who's nervous here. It's been a... a long time for me. I'm going to take my time with you—make sure you're taken care of, with my hands, with my mouth, any way you'll let me. But when it comes to actually fucking you–" Samira shuttered in pleasure just at the words. "There's no guarantee it's not going to be over in seconds."
"Oh. That's. I mean. That happens. It wouldn't bother me. You don't seem like you'd be selfish about this stuff so if it happens, it'll just be–" she tried to reassure him. "I don't even really finish from that usually, so it's fine."
Jack groaned beneath her. "Well, that's one way to give a guy some incentive."
She turned to face him. "What?"
"How often is ‘not usually,’ Samira?" he asked, intensity permeating his tone, ignoring her question.
"Umm, never," she admitted, sheepishly. "I've never finished during intercourse."
"No guy has ever made you come on his cock?" he prompted, voice deep and wanting.
"No. No one's—no," she confirmed. "Like I said. It's never been great. Usually it ranges from uncomfortable to boring."
"Boring..." he repeated.
"I told you. I've never wanted it this much. It hasn't felt like this in the past," she explained, her heart racing.
"And what does this feel like?"
"I don't–"
"Honesty, remember? That's how we make sure this is good. How does this feel," he asked, his tone much like when he questioned her over a procedure but gravelly, scraping his throat in a way that had her clenching her thighs together.
She felt emboldened by his encouragement, by the way he seemed so sure that they could be great. Together.
"I feel, um, hot. Dizzy and–"
"–And?" he whispered
By way of answering, Samira placed her hand over his, a little lightheaded at the contrast, his pale, freckled skin stretched over large hands, covered by hers. She took his hand, lifting it from her lap, dipping it beneath the band of her sweatpants.
"Mira," he breathed in warning.
Still, she brought his hand to the gusset of her panties, her middle finger pressing down on his to run down the length of her underwear where she was mortifyingly wet. She dragged his hand gently up so his finger brushed her clit ever so lightly over the cotton fabric, but electrified as she was, it was enough to elicit a quiet, pathetic whine from her throat.
She withdrew both of their hands, and met Jack's eyes, which she found more than a little unfocused. "It feels like that."
Jack brought his middle finger, barely dampened, to his swipe across lower lip before chasing it with his tongue.
"I don't know who made you feel like you're bad at sex. Jesus, Samira. Give a guy some warning," he breathed, chest rising and falling dramatically.
"Was that okay, then?"
She felt bashful at his praise, unsure if she'd really earned it.
Strong hands gripped her hips, moving her down Jack's lap, as he took her hand in a mirror of the way she'd taken his, bringing it to rest on his lap. The rigid outline of his cock beneath her palm took her by surprise, her eyes widening. She rubbed up then down gently over the fabric of his scrubs before a breathy "Fuck," spilled from his lips, and he encircled her wrist between his thumb and middle finger, pulling her hand away.
She whined in disappointment at the loss but he just chuckled. "Been a while, baby. You can't just look at me bambi-eyed while you sit in my lap and rub my dick like that. If I come in my pants before I get the chance to be inside your pussy, I'll never forgive myself."
"Okay, but I need–I don't even know. I just need—Jack. Please," she begged, his words causing moisture to pool between her legs in a way that bordered on uncomfortable.
He'd said he could sweet talk his way into her pants, but she didn't imagine it would be that easy. She felt like she might combust if he didn't do something about it soon.
He gently lifted her from his lap and she was briefly overcome with panic that she'd somehow ruined the perfect tension that hung in the air like static.
"Hey. Hey. You didn't do anything wrong," he assured her, easily reading the look on her face. "This is just gonna be easier in my bedroom. There's a bed and uhhh—supplies."
Samira didn't have time to wonder what he meant by supplies. He stood to his feet before bending over to scoop her up, throwing her over his broad shoulder.
"JACK!" she squeaked at the sudden change, at the feeling of being tossed around by someone so strong.
He slapped a large hand against one side of her ass, only stinging a little, but she felt her clit pulse in response. Interesting.
"Jack!" She insisted as he walked her down the hall. "Put me down!"
"Anything for you, beautiful," he shot back, his tone cheeky, as he walked through a doorway and tossed her onto a large bed, covered in green waffled duvet.
"Okay," he began, looking down at where she lay sprawled across his bed. "Anything a hard no? Anything I should steer clear of?"
"Ummm. Nothing immediately comes to mind." She searched her brain for things from past sexual experiences she'd disliked but there was nothing that didn't seem appealing when she pictured Jack in the place of the other men she'd been with.
"You'll let me know if I do something you don't like." Not a question.
"Yes. I'll let you know."
"I mean it, Samira." His voice was demanding with a note of authority that thrilled her. "If I do something you don't like, you tell me immediately. I don't want you uncomfortable because you think it will make things good for me. Do you understand?"
The question was a hair from condescending. Samira had never been so turned on in her life.
"Yes, Jack. I'll tell you," she nodded, wide eyed.
His features transformed into the cocky smirk she was used to seeing him directing at others, though never at her. She had been right. The force of it made it hard for her to think.
"Good girl," he praised, and Samira's center went positively molten. He quirked a brow at whatever he saw in her expression, like he was cataloging the reaction.
Samira sat up, swinging her feet off the side of the bed and lifted her shirt off, hooking her thumbs beneath the band of her sports bra to take it off as well. She shimmied out of her joggers best she could, leaving them in a pile with the rest of her clothes.
In retrospect, if she had known how this day would play out, she'd never have chosen this pair of panties, heather grey cotton boyshorts that she'd yet to pull off. The color and fabric made it apparent just how wet she was.
She looked up to Jack, a little nervous to see his reaction.
Jack Abbot famously had a retort to everything. He could flirt with a corpse, cracked jokes on an amount of sleep that would put most people in the ground, was lightning quick with a comeback, but Samira saw no trace of the bravado that accompanied his usual quick wit on his face.
Instead he stared down at her, his expression wide open, transparent with desire. His hazel eyes raked across her face, then to her chest, between her legs, then back up to meet her gaze, for once, at a loss for words.
"Jack?" she prompted, but he remained silent. "Can you–" she swallowed.
"Yes to whatever you're asking," he agreed hastily. "I'll give you anything."
"I don't like—" she began and he snapped to attention, immediately serious. "No. No, don't stop just— I don't want to be the only one naked."
A sigh of relief relaxed his shoulders, and pulled his shirt over his head by the collar before maneuvering boxer briefs and scrub pants over his prosthetic.
Samira had seen him in a state of undress, had patched up a bullet wound on his shoulder, but the sight of him completely bare in front of her, looking down at her with hungry eyes sent a shiver down her body. His broad chest was smattered with freckles and a dusting of hair, the auburn of his youth still peaking through in places. Her eyes followed from his chest, down strong biceps to muscled forearms, a thick vein running the length of it.
Her eyes traveled further down to where his cock hung heavy and swollen between his legs. She’d never been struck with the overwhelming urge to give a blowjob before, but she was overcome with thought of him in her mouth, taking as much of his substantial length as she could, jaw open as wide as she could manage to accommodate his girth.
Jack followed her eyes to where they lingered and a kind but cocky smile turned his lips up. “Don’t worry, baby. We’ll get you nice and ready. I promise. Now, lay down on the bed for me,” he instructed.
She nodded through the daze and leaned back so her head was against what was probably a very expensive pillow but only relished in the feeling a few moments before Jack laid his body down next to her before rolling her on top of him like she weighed nothing. He maneuvered her so that her legs bracketed one of his strong thighs, and she gave a roll of her hips against it, just testing the pressure, but her own sensitivity surprised her and she let out a small whimper.
“Oh,” she said, embarrassed. “That was–”
“Perfect. That was perfect, Mira. That’s exactly why I put you there. You said you’ve never had great sex, right? So, let’s start at the beginning, huh?” he muttered, before winding a hand in her hair and pulling her down into a deep kiss.
Samira no longer had any inclination to feel embarrassed. It seemed that Jack was going to walk her through this, step by step, and she’d always enjoyed learning from him. She never felt embarrassed to ask questions or make a mistake when Abbot was the one guiding her at the hospital. Why should this be any different.
His mouth seemed hungry for hers, tugging her lip between his teeth before his tongue dipped to trace it. She tried to meet him, her tongue finding his, stroking it with her one before she nipped at his lower lip, and he let out a low groan.
His mouth didn’t leave hers but his large hand came to cup her breast, thumb and finger tweaking at a nipple, causing her to sigh and grind down onto his thigh unconsciously, desperate for the pleasure. “Christ, your tits are the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen.”
She hummed in approval, and Jack brought his hand up to her other breast, again twisting a nipple between his fingers, this time a little meaner. Samira let out a stuttered breath at the mixture of pleasure and pain.
“That feel good, baby? You wanna feel it?” he prompted, giving her other nipple the same treatment. She nodded her head furiously.
“No, sweetheart. That’s something I need you to use your words for, okay? Need me to tell me if you like it. Need to hear how,” he chided gently.
“I like it when it stings a little, I think. I don’t want you to hurt me but maybe a little bit? Like that and maybe–” she began, but stopped herself, mortified.
“Maybe, what, baby. Honesty, remember?” he encouraged, hands still working her breasts in a way that had her brain foggy, a little pliant. It was the best excuse she had for answering him.
“When you had me over your shoulder. When you–I can’t say it. Please, Jack,” she whined.
“You liked it when I spanked your ass?” he asked, and choked off a groan. “Fuck. Okay. Fuck. Noted. But first, we’re gonna get you off a couple of ways, see what works. That sound good?”
“Yeah. Yes, Yeah.” Samira felt wild with need, her cunt pulsing between her legs and every drag of her panties against his toned thigh. She needed more.
“Okay. Go ahead and ride my thigh for me until you come,” he instructed, and she pulled back a little, surprised. That was not how she imagined this going. He must have read the shock on her face, because he brought one hand to her hip, guiding it to grind down against him. “Just like that, baby. There you go. I want you to see that you can make sex good for yourself. You’re so good at this. So good at everything, sweetheart.”
He continued to handle her hip but she picked up a rhythm, alight with his words of praise, and began to ride him in earnest, her mouth dropping open, sighs falling from lips. His fingers relentlessly plucked at the nipple of the breast he still held, sending jolts of pleasure-pain through her. She was so close she could almost taste it but she couldn’t quite reach the precipice. “Jack, Jack, can you–” she choked off a moan. “Talk to me. Please. Show me what to do.”
“That’s my girl,” praised. “Asking for help when she needs it. Wanting to learn. You’re doing so good, baby girl. Push a little harder when you grind down, just like that. Yeah. Keep a steady rhythm if you can. If not, I can keep it for you,” he assured, fingers digging into her hip. “Go on. You can do it. You can do anything, Samira.”
She felt her pleasure crest and she squeezed her legs tight around his as she rode out her orgasm, his hands never leaving her hip and breast until she slumped, looser-limbed on top of him. He brushed her hair that had fallen loose behind her shoulder.
It was a powerful orgasm, but she didn’t feel sated on the other side of it. She still felt a cloying need between the apex of her thighs. “Jack, I need–”
Again, he flipped their bodies with ease so that she was flat on her back, looking up at him. “Yeah, baby. You need more. I know. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.”
He dipped his head to latch his mouth at the side of her throat, scraping his teeth across it. Samira keened, breath choked. He pushed himself further down her body, bringing his mouth to her nipple. He licked at it lightly, then exhaled until it stiffened to a tight bud, almost painful from the chill. “Cold. It’s cold,” she moaned.
“I’m sorry, baby girl. That wasn’t very nice. Let me warm it up for you,” he offered, leaning in and taking the peak between his lips, sucking hard in a way that had her hips bucking up, pleasure shooting straight to her clit. “That better?”
“Yeah, yes,” she nodded, throwing her head back as he brought his mouth to her other breast to give it the same treatment. She couldn’t get any friction at the angle he had her. She was entirely at the mercy of the pleasure he gave her and she felt desperate for it. He continued to suckle at her breast for a moment before he pushed himself even further down.
He reached his destination, face at eye level with her cunt and his eyes went dazed, hungry and unfocused.
"Sweetheart," he breathed and braced his hands on either of her thighs, gently urging them apart, fixing his eyes on her damp panties. "Can I put my mouth on you, baby? I promise I'll make you feel so good. Please."
“Please. Please Jack, I need it,” she begged.
“Me too, baby,” he agreed, hooking a finger around the waist of her panties and pulling them down her legs. He surprised her when rather than tossing them in a pile with the rest of her clothes, he balled up the cotton and opened the drawer of the bedside table within reach, placing the bundle inside.
“What’s that–” she began but immediately choked off as Jack took her hips in his hands, pressing her down, before leaning in to lick a thick stripe up her cunt. “Oh,” she breathed at the sensation.
“Fuck, baby girl. You taste–” but he didn’t finish the thought, just brought his mouth back to her sex to gather more of her wetness on his tongue. The sound was vulgar, slurping at where she was drenched, Jack not bothering to restrain his moans into her cunt. The vibration paired with the sensation of him running his tongue up and down her cunt set her body alight. He gently flicked at her clit for only a moment when he reached the top, before dragging his tongue back down, dipping into her entrance. He repeated the movement several times, seeming to revel in it.
It was hot, mind-blowingly so, but she knew she’d never come from it alone. She’d promised him honesty so she reached down, tugging at his silver curls. “Jack that feels—fuck, it feels so good. But I need–I can’t come like this,” she admitted.
He chuckled softly. “I know, sweetheart. Wasn’t trying to make you. That was just for me. Just needed a taste of you. Can you blame a starving man for indulging a little?”
“Oh. You–that makes you–” She couldn’t quite put the words together.
“Makes me want to rut into the bed and come with the taste of you in my mouth,” he answered.
“Oh, you can–If you want–” Who was she to deny him his fill. It really did feel wonderful.
“No, baby. You coming on my face will feel even better. I’ve got you,” he promised with a wink.
He returned his mouth to her sex, this time pressing a flat tongue against her clit in a way that rolled her eyes back.
She felt thick fingers press at her opening, slowly pushing inside, stretching her wide as he scissored them open. “Ooooohh fuuuuck,” she whined, as he withdrew the fingers and reinserted them, flat tongue still rubbing at her clit.
“Oh Jack. Jack please,” she begged, unsure what she was really asking for other than for her to push her over the edge of an orgasm that loomed just over the horizon. He lifted his head for a moment, his fingers never letting up their rhythm inside her. “Okay, baby. You’re gonna come for me again. Gonna be so good and drench my face while I work you open enough that you can take my cock without hurting you. You think you can do that for me?”
At the same time his voice lilted up in question, he curled the fingers, dragging across a spot inside her that had her gripping the duvet tightly. “Fuck. Yes. Fuck. Gonna come.”
“Good girl,” he praised. “Give it to me, okay?”
His lips returned between her legs, this time encircling her clit as he continued to fuck her on his fingers. He added a third finger, stretching her impossibly wide. It burned slightly but with the same mixture of pain and pleasure she’d felt when he tweaked at her nipples. His hand hit a rhythm, dragging against her g-spot again and again as his mouth sucked at her clit, gentle but insistent. “Right there, right there,” she chanted and Jack kept steady rhythm and pressure until her orgasm burst through her, as she gasped and writhed against his hand and mouth.
She relaxed back, exhausted, feeling, for the first time since he’d kissed her, since he’d asked for her future, the weight of the thirty hours she’d been awake. “Mmmmmm,” she hummed, her cunt still twitching in aftershocks of pleasure.
Jack pulled up, parallel with her, balancing on an elbow. His face still glistened with her wetness. He looked pleased with himself, but a little dazed. “You think you got one more in you, baby? Can I fuck you?”
She hummed again. “I want you inside me, but I think–I’m not sure I’ll be of much help. I want it to be good for you,” she admitted.
“We can wait until after you’ve slept, baby, if you want. Or I can do the work. I promise if I get to be inside your pussy, it’ll be good for me. Want it to feel good for you, too, though–the first time we do this,” he assured her.
She felt buoyant, a faint need still pulsing between her legs, but more than anything, she wanted him as close as she could have him. “I want you. Jack, I need you inside of me,” she admitted and he let out a sharp exhale.
“Yeah, I can do that, sweetheart,” he promised. “Of course, I can do that. Roll over onto your front for me,” he instructed.
Samira was too tired, head too cloudy with pleasure to argue or question the instruction, just rolled over onto her belly. “Lift your hips a little, sweetheart,” he said and slipped a pillow beneath her when she complied. “Good girl. My perfect girl,” he cooed.
“Need you in me now, Jack,” she complained.
“I know, baby. I need to be inside you. I need it more than I’ve ever needed anything. More than I need to breathe. Just–condom and–” he stopped.
She felt him lean over to the drawer again, heard him rustling within it, then the rip of a foil packet opening. “I want to make you feel good, sweetheart, but I know this is gonna be over quick. I’ve wanted this for too long.”
“S’okay,” she assured him, sleepily. “Just use me to feel good.”
“Jesus fucking–You can’t just say shit like that, baby. I’m old. My heart will stop, I swear,” he breathed. “But I need you to cum one more time, baby. Want to feel your pussy coming around my cock.”
She heard a click of a button and then a soft vibration. “Any objection to an old man bringing in a little help?” he asked, dragging the vibrator down her hip.
“No. Just. Inside me. Please. Need you inside me,” she encouraged.
She felt him line his body up behind her. “You’ll tell me if it’s too much, won’t you, Mira?”
“Yes. Yes, just–”
“Shhhh. I’ve got you,” he cooed, and she felt the blunt tip of him press against her entrance.
He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, letting her adjust to the size of him, but he kept up a string of praises the whole time. “Fuck, baby. You’re so—so warm and wet and tight. Fuck. It’s never—Oh god. It’s never felt like this. You’re so pretty for me. Taking it so perfectly,” he chanted.
Samira perked up through the exhaustion at his words and the feeling of being so incredibly full. She barely had time to process before Jack’s arm circled around her waist and the vibrator pressed sinfully into her clit. “Oh. Oh god. That’s–” she tried, but no more sound came out as her body was wracked with pleasure.
“Sweetheart, I’m not gonna last much longer. You’re so perfect around me. Better than I could have imagined. So I need you to come for me, okay. I need to feel you come around me. Please. Please, give me one more, baby,” he pled, keeping pressure on her clit with the vibrator as he began to thrust in and out.
With every punch of his hips, his cock dragged against her g-spot and the pressure inside her, the vibrations against her, it was almost too much to handle.
“Jack, I’m gonna–I’m already–Fuck, it’s so–” she clenched down around him, feeling the first pulses of a final orgasm. “Baby…..” she whined.
At the word, she felt Jack go rigid, his hands gripping her hips like a vice. The feeling of him spilling inside her, even into a condom, whited out her mind as her orgasm rolled through her, the most powerful one of the three.
Jack brushed her hair behind her back gently with one hand, bending to press a kiss between her shoulder blades before setting the vibrator on the nightstand with the other. He rolled her over and gathered her into his arms to hold her close to his chest. He arranged her gently so that his prosthetic did not intertwine with her legs.
She curled herself around him, sleep threatening to overtake her when she realized. “You left the leg on.”
He chucked, his body shaking around her. “Yeah. Helps with uhhhh—torque I guess? Leverage. I’ll take it off before we sleep,” he assured her.
“Mmmmmm. Sleep,” she agreed. Her whole body felt weightless, her mind fuzzy at the edges.
“Need you to use the bathroom first, baby,” he cooed, stroking her hair softly.
“Nnnnnggggghhh” she protested, so warm against him.
“You’re a doctor, honey,” he teased.
“Fine,” she grumbled, standing on legs almost too tired to carry her, trudging her way through a door she assumed was the en suite.
When she returned to the bedroom, Jack was tucked into the bed. “Care to join me?”
“I just realized we’re both covered in germs,” she yawned, thinking about the double she’d just worked, like a distant memory after the last few hours. “But I’m too tired to shower.”
Jack shrugged easily. “I’ll change the sheets when we wake up. I’ve got spares.”
She crawled into bed, once again wrapping herself around his strong body, the weight of the day, of her revelations, of three back to back orgasms, all settling over her.
He couldn’t seem to keep his lips off her, kissing her cheek, her forehead, her lips, the crown of her hair. He rubbed circles with his palm on her back. “That was– I don’t have the words, Samira. Everything. That was everything. I hope it was for you too.”
“I didn’t even know it could be like that. I mean, I assumed you’d know how to make it good, great even. But that was—Thank you,” she finished simply.
“No. Don’t thank me for that. You were–are. I'm not—I’m not gonna say it yet. I don't want you to think it's just words. That it’s just something I'm saying in the afterglow. It's not that. So I’ll wait. I'd wait for you forever. But God, Samira. I don't know what to say. I just—”
Hearing Jack struggle to find the words, struggle not to say the ones he meant, reminded Samira that despite the years and experience between them, this, at least, was new to him, too. She wasn't the only one out of her depth.
“Hey. Hey. Jack. It's okay. You don't need to get the words right. I don't have them either,” she admitted. For the first time since she'd woken up the previous day, she didn't feel embarrassed about what she didn't know or understand.
What passed between them as she wrapped herself around his strong body, drifting in the space between awake and already dreaming was something incomprehensible, too big and too vast for even Jack to have the right words.
“But you know I mean them, right?” he urged, pulling her tight before a yawn escaped his mouth.
She thought back to the way her second shift had started. To how it ended. The revelation that she meant too much to him to offer her clever flirtation or hollow sex. Nothing between them rang empty.
“Yeah, Jack,” she breathed, sleep finally overtaking her. “Love you, too.”