Stranded | Enemies to Forbidden Lovers ✔️

Chapter 28.5

SMUT WARNING!!! GUYS! WHO MISSED OUR GOOD WELL ENDOWED KING?

Jackson approaches me; he places his hand around my neck. He squeezes it, not too tight to choke me but enough to insert dominance in this enclosed elevator. My mouth falls open as I look him in the eyes.

He eases closer but doesn't touch my lips. Instead, he leaves hot kisses on my neck. He lets go of his hand and trails it up to my thigh. Be ruff, leave a mark on my skin, so I think of you when I see myself in the mirror. I was bruises, red marks, and lost the ability to walk.

I don't want to remember Joseph. His hand grips my thigh and grabs at my underwear. Before he moves them to the side, he stops. I huff, "you sure you want to do this?" Jackson murmurs in my neck.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" I huff. He's hung up on a woman that he was supposed to meet, but instead, he's kissing me. He's no longer in the crevice of my neck. He's on my lips. I open my mouth, giving him an invitation to meet my tongue with his. He's a unique type of kisser.

It's playful yet, kind but with a technique that is common among the experienced. His kiss confuses me. How many women has he had pinned against an elevator door? Am I his first? His hundredth? I don't care. I just want to be the next one.

The elevator bell rings, and he's off of me. My breathing is staggard, and I can't keep my eyes off of him, let alone remember that my keys are in my bra. He holds my hand and leads me to my room. Mother is next door but, she's sound asleep. She won't hear the pounding against the wall.

Jackson, I want you to pound me so hard that I get a concussion from the headboard.

Hopefully, if I do get one, I'll forget my horrid life. A swipe and thump against a wall. A kiss, his hand on my thigh. He turns me on my back. I feel his hand touch my zipper and pull it down.

The sounds of the zipper echos through the hotel room. His fingers prickle my skin. His hot lips hit my back; my dress falls to the ground. I step out of the dress and turn towards him.

I'm bare, with nothing but my underwear for him to see. One more kiss, he gives me then another. I moan into the kiss, "Jackson," I heave. What a lovely name he has. He takes off his jacket, leaving him in his button-down. I extend my hands to help him undo his buttons. Ten seconds for seven buttons.

Too many layers of clothing he wears, a jacket, a button-down, and a t-shirt. It takes me all my might not to rip his dress shirt open; instead, we deal with the weird fumblings. A quiet curse he lets out because of his poor clothing choice for a one night stand with me. Bare, his chest is bare.

I've never seen a man with a six-pack before. He reminds me of one of those catalogs you find in a magazine at one of those teen stores that I went to with my friends. Jackson is the guy you dream of, who you have your first wet dream about. I run a finger down his chest. He lets me. He doesn't protest. His hand slams against the wall as I go further and further down.

I'm on my knees in front of this strange man I've had one conversation with. But, for some reason, I trust him. He slides off his shoes as I unbuckle his pants. Briefs, they're tight around his bulge. His briefs don't hide him well. I can tell his blessed. Blessed with something that kind of scares me but turns me on.

It's going to hurt. I can just feel it. It's going to hurt, but it's going to take me over. Maybe he'll only put half of it in, or maybe he'll stuff me.

I want to be stuffed.

I pull down his underwear, slowly, and I'm met with him. All of him, "wow."

Jackson chuckles, making it jump a bit. I hold it in my hands, "your hands are soft," he comments.