Ruthless In A Suit: Book Three Part 18

"Looks like a good day," he says. "And these are your parents?"

"Yep," I say at the other photo he points to.

I can't tell if he's being polite or if he's nervous being here, out of his element. He doesn't need to be. I've relaxed, and now the heat from earlier is seeping back into my body. Truthfully, having him here-on my home turf, so to speak-and seeing how it dis...o...b..bulates the great Jackson Croft is kind of a turn on. It makes me feel powerful.

"Did they grow up around here?"

"I don't want to talk about my parents right now." He looks up from the photo, confused.

I walk over to the back of the couch. I lean forward on it so that my a.s.s is sticking right toward Jackson. I hike up my skirt and say, "Could you help me get these off?"

Jackson is on me in two strides. He falls to his knees and pushes my skirt up over my hips until only my pink lacey panties are showing. I watch over my shoulder as Jackson slowly slides them down.

"Spread your legs," he says, and I spread my legs nice and wide for him. He pops my a.s.s with his palm, startling me. He sits up a little more on his knees, takes my a.s.s, and spreads my cheeks. His tongue covers my wet slit in one long stroke that starts at my c.l.i.t. He licks me again, getting me even wetter as little bolts of lightening shoot through my stomach. I stick my a.s.s back further for him and he smacks it again before burying his face back into my p.u.s.s.y, his tongue a magician on my c.u.n.t. He swirls around my swollen c.l.i.t then licks the hole of my c.u.n.t, darting in and out of me. Jackson moans as he feasts on me, voicing how much he loves the taste of me, which only makes me hotter, wetter.

I can't reach back for his head, but when I push back on him again his moans make me pant until I feel like I'm losing my breath. Suddenly his fingers are inside me, his mouth gone but on my a.s.s, kissing me still as he pumps me with two fingers, pulling out to circle my nub before das.h.i.+ng back up inside up, all the way to his knuckles I'm sure, giving me so much pleasure I'm not sure my senses can take it.

I'm not sure if he does or I do but suddenly I'm turned around and standing up, back to the couch, Jackson still on his knees before me. His fingers never left me; he's still slipping them in and out of the wettest p.u.s.s.y that ever existed. I hold my skirt out of the way as I watch him staring at his fingers pumping me with fascination. I use my other hand to grab a fistful of his hair and tug him closer. I need more, I need all of it. My c.u.n.t is throbbing, and he f.u.c.ks it with his fingers as his mouth covers my c.l.i.t again, flicking his tongue over it, lapping at it. I can hardly stand, leaning back on the couch for support as my hand stays buried in his thick hair. G.o.d, watching him from above, his face digging into my crotch, is too f.u.c.king s.e.xy. He works his fingers in me, pus.h.i.+ng higher, pumping harder, and I feel the walls of my s.e.x tightening, sparks of light flas.h.i.+ng as I squeeze my eyes, and come all over Jackson's mouth and hand.

"You can't keep doing that," I say when I finally catch my breath. "You can't keep giving me all the pleasure. It's not fair."

"It's more than fair," he says, his hands roaming my thighs and hips under my skirt. "As long as you're enjoying it, I'm more than enjoying it."

I look down at him. "But what about you?"

"I'm fine."

"Yes, you are," I say, combing his hair back into place. "But you need more. I want to give it to you."

"All I need is you, Emily."

I believe him when he says that. What he doesn't realize is that it only makes me hotter for him.

"You're in my house now," I say. "You have to play by my rules."

A smile twitches on his lips. He may think he's satisfied, but he needs more.

I lead him over to my bed and sit him down on the edge. It's my turn to strip him down, let him be naked before me. I can still feel the wetness of his tongue between my legs, and I want to do my best to give him some of the same pleasure he gives me every single time I see him. I sit down on my knees before him and begin by taking off his shoes and socks.

I'm nervous. I don't know if I'm any good at this, and knowing Jackson has been with many women before me doesn't help matters.

Still, I want him. I want to take him. I want to go further with him than I have any other man. Admittedly, that doesn't take much for me, but there's no one I'd rather be with than Jackson Croft.

I start with his s.h.i.+rt-even though I can see his impressive bulge through his black pants. I bite my lip to keep from going straight there as I pull the soft fabric of his s.h.i.+rt up and over his head, mussing his hair as I do. His chest is a work of hard planes and deep valleys showing the ripples of his abs. I trace my fingers tenderly over his skin and the light hair that covers his chest. I run my hand over his heart and pause to feel its beating. It's a quickened pace that tells me whatever I'm doing is right. So I go for his belt buckle and watch as his chest rises and his stomach pulls in. He's eager.

I unzip his pants and tug them down as he adjusts to help. I leave his boxer briefs on, partly to tease him but also to take it slow for me as I build up to it. I kiss his taut stomach, feeling his warm skin on my lips. I scoot further between his legs and when I lean in again to kiss his chest, my b.r.e.a.s.t.s push up against his d.i.c.k, which is long and rigid and pus.h.i.+ng to get out. I press down a little to feel him more, running my hands over his strong arms, lingering over the carve of his triceps. He catches my face in his hands and kisses me, his tongue pus.h.i.+ng past my lips like he's searching for air. I lean into him more, onto him more, wanting him more. I move my hands down to his waist and slip my fingers under the thin fabric of his boxer briefs.

He eagerly lifts his hips so that I can drag them off his body, and I watch as his impressive c.o.c.k bobs up after being released. Jackson takes it in his hand and gives it a slow pull. He angles it toward me slightly and I lean forward and lick the top of his d.i.c.k, tasting the wetness that is already there. He keeps pulling on himself, and although it's hot as h.e.l.l I want to do all the pleasing. So I nudge him away, and take him in my hand.

The skin is so soft and pliable against his big rigid member. I stroke him softly at first, to get him a little more excited and to give me a moment of my own pleasure as I feel him in my hand and watch his eyes get that dark, l.u.s.tful look. I increase the tempo and lean in to kiss his chest, letting my tongue drag across his hard stomach as he sucks in another breath.

When I've teased him enough I pull my hair to one side and lick the top of his d.i.c.k. I stretch my jaw wide and wrap my lips around the top. With my tongue flat against him, I slid him into my mouth as far as I can take him. Jackson let out a moan.

"Emily..."

I'm careful to keep my teeth out of the way, but other than that I'm not sure what I'm doing, but I know I love the feel of his d.i.c.k in my mouth. I let my tongue drag up the p.r.o.nounced vein, licking around the tip before taking the whole c.o.c.k in my mouth again. I use my hand for more leverage and more pumping. Jackson's hands dig into my hair-something I love to do to him when he's driving me insane with want, so I know I'm doing something right. I keep up the pace, taking his d.i.c.k deeper and further into my mouth, nudging down my throat. Having him in a new place inside me, tasting his skin, smelling the soft scents of his body, makes me wetter than ever. I can't wait for him to come. I can't wait for him to f.u.c.k me.

I pick up the pace on his c.o.c.k, unable to control myself. I sucked him and jerked him until his moans tell me he's close. I keep up the pace, pus.h.i.+ng his d.i.c.k deeper into my throat. The more I work him, the more relaxed I become-the hotter I become-and my body relaxes in response. I could never take him fully in my mouth-at least, I don't think I could-but d.a.m.n if I don't try my best to wet his d.i.c.k with my mouth and tongue.

"Emily," he pants, his hand guiding my head faster and deeper onto him. "I'm going to come. I'm going to come."

When he does, I feel his hot juices explode in my mouth and down my throat. I groan over him, the warm sensation so sweet and s.e.xy as I drink all of him down.

"Jesus Christ," he pants, his head hanging low as he catches his breath. The sight of him so worked over makes me feel unbelievably s.e.xy. I crawl up on the bed and wrap my body around his, gently kissing his neck and shoulder. I run my hands over his solid arms, amazed that I get to touch them, that they hold me.

I get us a couple of waters, which we both gulp down, and then we snuggle down in my bed-not so big or so soft as his but just as warm and comforting. I rest my head on Jackson's chest, basically feeling deliriously happy to be up against his (naked) body. I let my fingers dance lazily across his skin, feeling his hard lines and muscles as his eyes drift closed.

A little while later I wake up, still in our same positions. I press my body, still wearing that night's outfit, sans underwear, up against Jackson's body. I begin kissing his neck, running my tongue softly over the skin. I breathe into his ear as I take his lobe between my teeth, pulling gently. He s.h.i.+fts slightly, and I let my hand drift down his body, right to that (perfectly trimmed) patch of coa.r.s.e hair. He moves his hips in response, and I drape my leg over his, getting closer. The more I kiss him the more his breathing picks up. I feel his d.i.c.k nudge my leg, responding on its own to my touch. I take him in my hand and slowly begin pulling, feeling him harden in my hand.

I slid over on top of Jackson, burying my face in his warm neck as I rub my crotch up against his d.i.c.k. He's half asleep, half awake, and something about taking over his body in that state is so hot to me, like maybe he's dreaming this is happening and he'll wake up to see it really is. I'm so wet that I easily glide up and down on him, feeling him push open my slick walls. I press into him on the grind down, pus.h.i.+ng on my c.l.i.t, already swollen with need. I know I'm going to take him but I wait a little longer, letting him stay in that dreamlike state.

I reach under my skirt, between my legs, and take his rock-hard c.o.c.k in my hand. Jackson's breath stops. I guide that d.i.c.k to my hole and slowly lower him into me. Jackson lets out a moan, his eyes opening momentarily. He grabs hold of my waist as if he needs to stay grounded.

He's so f.u.c.king thick and long that I pause for a moment, letting my p.u.s.s.y get used to sudden deepening and stretch. I move up on him, then fall gently back down, grinding my hips into his to really push into me further. I spread my legs wider and rest my hands on his hips. There's a slight pain far inside me from taking so much of him at once but I'm determined to work through it. I lift myself off him only the slightest bit, and then I begin slowly rocking back and forth. Jackson moans my name, his hands squeezing my hips. I pick up the pace, loosening myself up and suddenly wanting him deeper. I'm fully on him, his d.i.c.k as far up inside me as it'll go and it's heaven. Jackson's body inside mine, filling me up, it's like it's all I need in the world. I can't believe how much I need this man, and even more amazing is that he seems to need me as well. I look down at him, such a beautiful specimen, his body so perfect. I can't imagine-I don't want to imagine-a time in the future in which we're not together. How would I breathe without him? The need for him has become so great it's as if we couldn't possibly function without each other.

Jackson suddenly has his hand around me and flips me on my back in one quick motion, startling and delighting me. Yeah, he's definitely awake now.

"Come here," he says. He takes my hand and pulls me up into as much of a sitting position as I can with his d.i.c.k still inside me. "Get this off." We clamor to get my top off and he wastes no time in removing my bra. His mouth is on my t.i.ts immediately, kissing and sucking at my nipples, kneading me not so gently with his hand. I'm trying to figure out how to arch my back toward him so he can take more of my b.r.e.a.s.t.s while also pus.h.i.+ng my pelvis further into him.

He pulls back from my chest, his hands working furiously around my skirt, trying to find the zipper. It's been twisted around my body so many times I'm not even sure where it's ended up.

"Where the f.u.c.k is this thing," he says. I giggle as we both feel around the fabric until he finds it. I want to cry when he pulls his d.i.c.k out of me to rip down the skirt, which he tosses to the side. I push my knees wide, waiting for him to take me back, but he pauses. He looks down at my body, his eyes scanning me as if he's memorizing every curve and every line. "This body," he says, his eyes drinking me in, "is stunning. I love this body."

d.a.m.n if it doesn't make me want to come right then. Instead I let out a whimper, scooting down closer to him, needing him back inside my p.u.s.s.y that is absolutely throbbing. I can feel how swollen my c.u.n.t lips are. I reach down to give myself some relief as he takes me in with his eyes. When I start to circle my c.l.i.t with my finger, Jackson's mouth falls open. He licks his lips, watching.

My thighs are tingling with antic.i.p.ation as my finger gets soaked in my own wetness.

"You have no idea how s.e.xy you are," Jackson says, watching me with fascination.

"Take me," I say, pus.h.i.+ng my hips up toward him. "Please, Jackson. Take me."

In a flash he's got his d.i.c.k in his hand and is shoving himself into me, making me gasp with delight. My eyes flutter shut as he moves into me in slow, hard punches. My t.i.ts jiggle with each thrust, and he reaches out and holds and rubs me, his thumb crossing my nipple as he slams into me again. I reach back and put my hand on the wall, bracing myself from the hard slow pump from Jackson's powerful c.o.c.k. Jackson moves his hands to my hips, holding me in place so he can use all the power he wants, and I take it, pus.h.i.+ng my legs still further apart. His thumb finds my c.l.i.t, and with increased speed he picks up where I left off. With my hands on the wall, his c.o.c.k slamming into my c.u.n.t and his thumb working my c.l.i.t I'm going absolutely mad. He picks up speed with his d.i.c.k, going faster and impossibly harder. I don't even try to hide my screams. It's all too much, too good, my skin too hot as my p.u.s.s.y gets f.u.c.ks so hard. I'm crying out as the world explodes behind my eyes, my entire body turns to spasms as I buck and scream out, sweat rolling across my entire body.

"Jesus f.u.c.king Christ," I say, and Jackson laughs.

"You are the s.e.xiest beast I have ever seen," he says. He slides out of me, and I feel his absence immediately. I let out a little groan at the loss. "How am I going to not think about this tomorrow while I'm sitting at the table with your family?"

I smile. "That gives me a good idea. I should totally tease you under the table."

"Don't you dare," he says.

He holds me to his chest and kisses my head. My mind is spinning with the amazing things we just did, and even a little excitement for tomorrow. It'll be the first time I've ever introduced a guy to my family. Well, it's the first time I've had a guy to introduce, but it's a big deal. I know they'll love him. Jackson Croft may be a killer in the boardroom-and the bedroom-but I know that in real life, he is sweet and smart and caring. And he really likes me. (Oh, and he loves my body. Just sayin'.) We fall asleep in each other's arms, and I know nothing can go wrong.

"Oh, s.h.i.+t. Jackson."

I look at the clock and it's after nine. We have to be at my parent's by ten-thirty and even though it's a little more than a half hour drive-in no traffic-we still have to go by Jackson's so he can shower and change.

"Wake up," I say, nudging him.

But he only wants to wrap me back up in his arms. He pulls me back to him and covers my neck in kisses, his hand instinctively cupping my breast. And it feels so good, and there's almost nothing I'd rather do than see this morning in bed through, but we have to get going. Even though my parents are super easygoing, I don't want to stroll in flushed and late and smelling like s.e.x. So we have to get showered and get going.

"Come on, I'm serious," I say. Gooseb.u.mps spring up on my arms from all his kisses and touches. I sit up, scooting out of his reach. I throw the covers off him, intending to make him cold so he'll get up. All I manage to do is expose his sculpted body-and his d.i.c.k, rising to the occasion. He moves toward me like a lion hunting its prey-slowly, methodically, eyes on the prize. "Don't you dare, Jackson," I say. "I'm serious, we have to get dressed."

But I want it just as much as he does. I laugh as he tosses me on my back. He takes my bent knees in his palms and pushes them back toward my shoulders. "Don't worry. I'll make this quick."

My body is ready to take him as he slides his d.i.c.k back in where it belongs. I moan as he moves inside me, more slowly than the last time and despite the clock ticking away. I don't care, though. My mind goes blank to everything except the feel of Jackson in me, his hands on me, keeping my knees pressed to my shoulders so that my p.u.s.s.y is fully open to him. When we come, we come together, sweating and panting.

"See? That wasn't so bad," he says in my ear, kissing me one last time before sliding out of me.

We're both a bit dizzy as we get dressed. We decide we'll both shower at his place, and I grab some fresh clothes and my makeup bag. I might have to finished dressing in the car on the way out to Lexington. This is my whole deal, from last night to this afternoon, and I have to admit I didn't plan it very well. Even if we had gotten up earlier, and even if he hadn't just taken me, we'd still be pressed for time having to go back into Back Bay before driving out of the city.

I just want everything to go perfectly today. Yes, that was the perfect way to start my day, but I don't like the feeling of being rushed. My parents don't appreciate tardiness. As we fly out of the city, I hope we can get there on time, and the day can continue without a hitch.

Jackson

Emily's family home is a little tan ranch-style house on a quiet street filled with trees and dog walkers. It's like I've died and gone to suburban h.e.l.l.

That's mean. It's actually quite charming in a Norman Rockwell kind of way. It's just so totally opposite from what I grew up with. This place oozes warmth and we haven't even made it through the front door yet.

Emily is fidgeting as I pull up in the driveway. I take her hand.

"Nervous?" I ask.

"A little."

"Why? Do you think I'm going to blow it or your parents won't like me?"

"Neither," she says, and then, "I don't know. I just want them to like you as much as I do, see what a good man you are. I don't want any of the differences to matter."

By "differences" she means money-specifically mine. I kiss her fingertips. "You have nothing to worry about. Everything is going to be perfect. I promise."

Her parents greet us with open arms-literally. I'm going in for the cheek kiss on Mrs. Brown when she envelopes me in a full-on hug. It throws me off. And then I reach out for the handshake with her father and he does the same thing. I'm not a fan of social touching. I think it's presumptuous and frankly a bit invasive.

"Come in!" Mrs. Brown says. The house is warm and stuffed with tchotchkes that would have my mother breaking out in hives. Mrs. Brown touches my back as she guides me from the foyer, overflowing with rain boots and umbrellas and, G.o.d, even a beach ball.

"Thank you for having us, Mr. and Mrs. Brown," I say. I present her with the bottle of Veuve Cliquot I brought as a gift, thinking there'd probably be mimosas.

"What in the world? Champagne?" Mrs. Brown says. "I wouldn't even know how to open this. And it's Martha and Joe, sweetie."

I give Emily a quick look. Who doesn't know how to open champagne? You just unscrew the cork. Whatever, Martha and Joe, I can get used to that.

Emily's siblings are in the living room, and they both rise when we walk in. I'm introduced to sister Sabrina and big brother Dax, who eyes me with the sort of suspicion I can respect from a girl's big brother. Extra points for not hugging me. Dax shakes my hand and Sabrina gives me a little wave.

Martha sets the bottle of champagne on a side table and invites everyone in to the dining room table. A feast is set out with stacks of waffles, a plate of eggs and another of bacon.

"Martha, this looks amazing," I say, choosing a seat. Emily sits next to me. I can tell she's still a little nervous. A pleasant smile has been plastered on her face since we walked to the front door. I reach for her hand and give it a squeeze.

"Aw, so sweet," Sabrina says. I move my hand away from Emily's-I hadn't intended for anyone to see what was meant as a private moment. "Don't stop on my account," Sabrina says, not missing a thing. "You should see my parents s...o...b..r all over each other. It's disgusting but also sort of sweet."

I realize the entire family is looking at Emily and me-do they expect me to touch her again? What do they want from me? Whatever it is, at this point I prefer to keep my hands to myself if it's going to cause this much commotion.

"So, Mr. Brown-"

"Joe," he says, sitting down. Martha has set a pot of coffee on the table and...a can of whipped cream? Everyone is seated, parents at the heads of the table and Sabrina and Dax across from Emily and me.

"Sorry, Joe-"

"Jackson?" Martha says, interrupting. "Before we get started would you like to say grace?"

I am momentarily stunned. Grace? Like, the prayer? My family attended church on the major holidays-Christmas and Easter-but that was strictly for appearances. During services, my mind always wandered to my homework or a project I was working on. I absorbed nothing because I knew it meant nothing. I've never said a prayer in my life, out loud or to myself.

"Mom," Emily says. "He's the guest."

"That's exactly why he should do it," Martha says. "Please, Jackson. We'd be honored."

Jesus, I'm not the pope here to bless their food.

"No, truly," I say, going for modesty. "I'll just end up mangling it. This is your home. You or Joe should say grace. I insist."

There's a beat of silence that tells me maybe that was the wrong thing to say. I could have made up some words, blessing the food and thanking G.o.d for this day. But I don't think perfect strangers should a.s.sume I'm religious. It's like they've put my faith-or lack thereof-to the test, and I failed. Little do they know that being tested and being set up are two things I really f.u.c.king hate.

Joe says the blessing and soon we're pa.s.sing the dishes of food around the table. I hope the awkwardness has pa.s.sed and I can get back on my game. I'm so good with adults-I was around them more as a kid than people my own age-and to not do well today would be failure on so many levels.

"Martha, this all looks so amazing," I say, doling out scrambled eggs onto my plate.

"Dad made it," Dax informs me. "We don't go along with the patriarchal ways around here. There's no women's work."

"Jesus, Dax," Emily says.

"Emily, watch your mouth," her mother says. Sabrina stifles a laugh. Grown adults being reprimanded at the dinner table. Okay. This is different.