He growls, penetrating me with his thumb as he continues his earth-shattering torture of my lady parts.
I come unglued, a climax ripping through me with enough power to fuel a rocket ship.
“f**k, kitten.” Jackson removes his mouth and pumps his digit in and out of me, watching my face as I finish.
One part of me thinks I should be embarrassed that he’s seeing my O-face, but the rest of me doesn’t care. Or, rather, believes he deserves the privilege, since he’s the one to produce it.
“f**k, f**k, fuck.” There’s desperation to Jackson’s tone. His eyes glow light blue. He flips me over again, this time onto my knees on the couch with my torso hanging over the arm of the sofa. He slaps my sore ass, and I hear the rustle of clothing.
I realize I’m about to lose my V-card. Things are moving
