Chapter 148
Ellie's POV
When the waves finally subsided, he pressed gentle kisses to my inner thighs before moving up to lie beside me. I collapsed against the pillows, boneless and trembling with aftershocks.
Even now, I could feel the echo of it—my inner walls still contracting occasionally, like my body was chasing the ghost of sensation.
"That was..." I couldn't form a coherent sentence. My brain felt like it had short-circuited.
"Yeah." His voice carried quiet satisfaction as he pressed a kiss to my temple.
Several minutes passed before I could think clearly enough to form words. "Will it be better when we actually... you know?"
Jackson propped himself on one elbow. "Better than that? Not necessarily. Actually, research shows most women never experience vaginal orgasm." His hand found mine, threading our fingers together. "What you just had? That's the most reliable way for most people."
I blinked at him, confused. "But in novels—"
"What about novels?" His lips quirked with amusement.
Heat flooded my cheeks. "I mean, occasionally Megan recommends some, and the women in them always seem to handle really intense sex so easily. But I could barely—" I gestured vaguely. "Is that just creative license or something?"
"That's not entirely fiction," Jackson interrupted gently. "But it's also about building tolerance. Your body learns to handle more intense stimulation over time. Gets used to it." His thumb traced idle circles on my hip. "First experiences are usually overwhelming because everything's new and sensitive. With practice and patience, you can work up to longer, more intense sessions."
The clinical explanation helped ease my embarrassment. "So I'm not... broken?"
"God, no." He leaned down to kiss me softly. "You're perfect. Your body responded exactly how it should for someone's first time with oral."
I curled into his side, letting my head rest on his shoulder. My inner walls gave another involuntary flutter, and I realized I could still feel where his fingers had been—not painful, just... present. A reminder of what we'd done.
"For us," Jackson continued quietly, "there's no script to follow. No 'supposed to.' We figure out what works for our bodies, at our pace." His arms tightened around me. "And that's enough. More than enough."
Through the window, moonlight painted silver patterns across the floor. My body still hummed with aftershocks, inner walls occasionally fluttering with phantom sensation. But as the haze of pleasure cleared, awareness returned.
Jackson was still hard against my hip.
"Hey." I shifted to look at him properly. "What about you?"
"I'm fine." But his voice was strained, body tense with unfulfilled need.
"You're not." I propped myself up on one elbow, studying his face. "I want... I want to make you feel good too. Show me how?"
His eyes darkened. "Ellie, you don't have to—"
"I want to." My hand traced down his chest, feeling his sharp intake of breath. "Please? Teach me."
For a moment he just looked at me, something vulnerable flickering across his features. Then he caught my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm.
"Just... do what I did. Explore. Pay attention to how I react." His voice had gone rough. "There's no wrong way to touch me."
I started with his mouth, kissing him slowly while my hands mapped the planes of his chest. He responded immediately, one hand tangling in my hair while the other gripped my hip.
When I pulled back to trail kisses along his jaw, his head tilted to give me better access. I could feel his pulse hammering beneath my lips as I worked my way down his throat.
"Like this?" I murmured against his skin.
"Yes." The word came out almost strangled.
Emboldened, I continued lower. My tongue traced the line of his collarbone, then moved to his chest. When I reached his nipple, I paused—remembering how sensitive mine had been to his touch.
I pressed a tentative kiss there first. Jackson's breath hitched.
Then I let my tongue circle the small bud, testing his reaction. His hips jerked slightly, and a low sound escaped his throat.
"Is that good?"
"Fuck—yes. Don't stop."
I sealed my lips around his nipple and sucked gently, the way he'd done to me. The response was immediate—Jackson made a sharp hissing sound, his hand fisting in the sheets beside him.
Something hot and satisfied bloomed in my chest. I did that. I made him sound like that.
"Oh," I breathed against his skin, realization dawning. "This is what it feels like. Having someone react to you."
"Yeah." His voice was wrecked. "So don't hold back your sounds next time. I want to hear every single one."
His words sent fresh heat through me, even as my body was still recovering. I kissed my way across his chest to give equal attention to his other nipple, learning what pressure made him gasp and what made his breathing turn ragged.
"Ellie—" My name on his lips sounded like a prayer. Like a plea.
I lifted my head to meet his eyes, finding them blown wide with desire and something deeper.
"Can I...?" My hand trailed lower, hovering just above his hip. "I want to touch you."
"God, yes." His voice was barely recognizable—raw and desperate in a way that sent power thrumming through me.
I shifted position, moving down his body while my hand wrapped around his cock. He was hot and hard in my palm, and the sharp inhale he made at the contact gave me courage.
"Show me what you like," I whispered.
His hand covered mine, guiding my grip—firmer than I'd expected, with a slight twist at the top that made his hips buck. "Like that. Just—fuck—just like that."
I followed his guidance, establishing a rhythm while watching his face. Every hitch in his breath, every time his abs tensed, every strangled sound he made—I catalogued it all, learning what drove him crazy.
"Ellie—I'm close—"
"Good." I leaned down to press a kiss just below his navel, maintaining my pace. "Let go for me."
His response was immediate—back arching, fingers digging into the sheets as his orgasm hit. I felt him pulse in my hand, watched his face transform with pleasure, heard my name break from his lips like something sacred.
When the waves subsided, he collapsed back against the pillows, chest heaving. I grabbed tissues from the nightstand, cleaning us both with gentle efficiency before settling beside him.
"That was..." He couldn't seem to finish the sentence.
"Good?" I asked, unable to keep the satisfied smile from my voice.
He laughed—breathless and genuine. "Understatement of the century."