Chapter 36: Twenty Four-2

I nod and sit on one of the bar stools at the island. "Normal?" I nod. "I'm making stir fry," he says. "You like?" I nod. "Need a Jax charge?" I nod. "Are you not talking?" I want to talk but I don't know what I'm supposed to say. I am trying to picture Jackson, this bright force, this incredible man, sad. I don't like the image. I shrug. He thinks it's funny and smirks. "Nothin', huh?" I shake my head. Jackson smiles wickedly. And today more than ever, I love that smile. I want to keep that smile. Lock it up. Frame it. Hang it on the wall. "You're not going to talk to me?" I hold up my index finger, walk to the desk in the living room and remove a notepad and pen. Scribbling on it. You told me a hundred times, enough talking. I don't ever want to forget the sound of your voice, so I'm taking a temporary vow of silence to be able to enjoy it. Maybe I'll speak when you tell me what you're hiding. His eyes narrow on the paper, but I can see his smile reflected in them as he reads. "A vow of silence, huh?" I nod. "Cause you think I'm hiding something?" I nod again. "You know that's gonna last about one Mississippi second, right Angel?" I shrug. "You'd better enjoy your vow of silence while you're filling your face with food, cause after that, it's gonna fly out the window. You're gonna be screaming my name later, I promise." I grin and nod. "Fucking tease," he mumbles, turning back to the food. I'm enjoying our little game and I manage to stay quiet the entire time. Jackson serves up the stir fry complete with a dry, white wine. It's delicious, same as everything else he's ever made me. "You know somethin' Angel?" I arch my eyebrow. "Not knowing what's going on in the pretty little head of yours is torture." I sip my wine and Jackson stands, outstretching his hand. "Time to break your vow of silence. Lose the blanket." I drop the blanket to the ground. I expect him to lead me back to the bedroom but he doesn't. He leads me to the balcony instead, his hand locked around my arm. There is no mistaking the desire in his eyes. Be it my first less than stellar behaviour, or his story earlier, something has caused Jackson to look more greedy than normal. I like this side of him. "So Angel. You don't wanna talk, but you can bet you're about to listen." I smile at the implication of his words. My stomach turns. "Since I'm well aware of what it is you like, Lola, you trust me, don't you?" I nod. He smiles. "Good. If you want to stop, say the word. If I'm right, which I am, I promise this might be one of the best nights of your life." I bring my pointer finger as seductively as I can to my mouth and smile. Jax isn't smiling. "Take off your clothes. Leave your bra and underwear on." I freeze. "Do it," he says. "Now." I decide in that moment, to humour him. I oblige. "Step forward, Lola. Put your hands on the railing." I do this too. His fingers trail down the nape of my neck. "Spread your legs." Oh. My. God. I shuffle my feet until they're shoulder width apart. "More," he says using his feet to nudge the insides of my ankles out. Once I've assumed the position, he slides his hands across my chest and I inhale sharply and squirm. "Are you comfortable?" I nod. "Good." He moves his hand from my breast and the fact that it's no longer there, disappoints me until I realize the clasp of my bra unbuckles and in a matter of seconds, I'm naked, save for my underwear. "It's like unwrapping a Christmas gift I've wanted for a lifetime." Once my body is free from the confines of the fabric, Jackson puts his hands back on me. He cups each breast in his hands, rolling the buds between the tips of his fingers. I don't move but my head tilts back and I bite my lip to keep from moaning. "You look beautiful like that," he says. His touch, his voice, his words. Oh God. I'm not going to last long at this. I begin to shift on my feet, heavy laboured breaths, escaping. Jackson's little game is working far faster than it should. "Look at you Angel," he says. "Having a hard time keeping quiet, huh?" He releases my breast with his right hand and slides it down the smooth plane of my belly inside the waistband of my underwear. My panties are soaked. I strain, trying to adjust myself so his hand hits that spot that craves his touch so badly. "You want me to touch you there?" I move again. "Say it. Or it's not going to happen." His fingertip glides along the crevice that's between my thigh and my core and despite myself, I whimper a little while trying to move against him. "Say it," he repeats. "And just so you know, the more you move, the more I'll make you wait for it," he says. "You're being very impatient." I press against him. "Say it." He says. "You're not going to win this game, Angel." "I want you to touch me there," I finally manage. "I need you to touch me there." He presses down on me and I gasp, moving against the palm of his hand, searching for some relief. "Don't stop, please," I whisper breathlessly, ready to give up my game. He wins. I win. What does it matter? "Holy fuck," Jackson says. "I like it when you beg." "Please," I say again. My hips are moving against him and I'm dying inside. "What did I say about moving, Angel? The more you move, the more you wait." He must have the willpower of a nun. I'm the inexperienced one and I'm ready to crawl out of my skin if it means I get to feel him inside me. Desire combined with frustration ebbs from every pore in my body. He presses down again with his fingertip. "Please!" "Please what?" He presses again. "Please Jackson. I need you." I don't have to ask again. Jackson's hands slide my underwear down before gliding back up my legs to my hips. My feet raise off of the ground for a few seconds before I feel the sensation of Jackson as he buries himself inside me. "Ah! Jax!" He kept his promise. He said I'd be screaming his name.