Jack’s hand jerks faster, losing himself to pleasure as I slow down, pressing into him deeply so that I can light him on fire from the inside.
There’s a lot of cursing interspersed with a long and orgasmic moan.
I don’t take my dick out of him, instead gripping him under his waist and pulling him back with me, letting my own cum drip out of him and onto my legs. I suck on his neck. He laughs.
“Watcha doin’, Merc?”
“Not done with you. Hope you weren’t planning on sleeping.”
“No,” he says already closing his eyes, wrapping my arms around him more securely.
Inhaling a gust of his scent stirs my primal instincts. I want more already. Will I ever stop craving him?
He’s out cold though and I’m forced to remember that he gets the shit beat out of him almost every second night, skating after a puck at the speed of a jackrabbit for three periods.
Guess I’m letting him sleep, but before-breakfast sex is becoming a new thing in the Meyer household.
Chapter18
Sleepovers & Dolls
JACK
I’m halfway through a yawn and a stretch when I remember: I’m in Mercy’s bed. I slept over. I never stay over anywhere since Rhett. This is a huge fucking deal. I’m not anxious to leave either. I want to stay, wrapped in his arms and his scent of cedar. His whole house is alive with cedar. I don’t see any incense burning so I assume the house has been constructed with it.
His fist is on my morning wood before he’s opened his eyes and soon enough, he’s opening me up and he’s in me again and all is right in the world.
“Do I really have to drop you off? Tonight feels like hours away.” He covers his face. “Shit. That might be the sappiest thing I’ve ever said.”
We head back tonight on the same plane. We’ll be apart for a few hours at most.
“Was pretty up there on the list of sap, Merc, but I don’t mind. I should get back though. The Dads are looking forward to breakfast with me.” I should feel more guilt over not spending all my home time with them than I do, but I know I’ll see them for Christmas anyway.
“At least I’ll get to do one other thing I’ve been dying to do with you.”
He keeps the “what” to himself.
Once we’ve sucked each other off and we’re dressed, he leads me to his garage. I’m all geared up for the soccer-mom van, and it’s there, but next to it is a shiny, black Harley. I don’t know much about bikes like that, just that they’re damn cool.
He fits me with a helmet. My hair curls out from under the bottom.
“Does this buy me some cool points back?”
“A few.”
There’s plenty of room, even for a large guy like me, to climb on behind him. The captain might have a fit when he hears the bike come up the driveway, but YOLO.
It’s like flying down the ice without crashing into the boards. The leather creaks between us. The engine rumbles. The chill air bites my neck—the only place that’s uncovered.
“I’ve wanted you on my bike for some time,” he says when the engine is off, and we’re parked out front of my family home. “Worth the wait.”
“That ride was something else,” I say, dropping a slow kiss on his lips.
Dad runs out the door and down the drive, his large knit sweater billowing. “Jack.Jack!There you are. I was texting you. I need your help.”
“Everything okay, Dad?”
“No. I was bombarded with orders. Your brothers are inside ready to help and even your father. We need you too.”
