Hi cutie! I’m definitely gonna need another Jermaine smut from you🤭 I don’t have a specific request but whatever you feel like writing is perfectly fine with me!
ᴛʜᴇʏ ʜᴜɴɢʀʏ ᴀꜱ ꜱʜɪɪ | ᴊᴇʀᴍᴀɪɴᴇ ᴊᴀᴄᴋꜱᴏɴ
، summary𓈒 you and maine are hungry for different things.
، pairing𓈒 Jermaine Jackson x black!fem!reader
، warnings𓈒 no use of y/n, jackie fine ass, ovulation, fingering, oral sex (f & m receiving), squirting, cum licking.
، notes𓈒 hey, cutie🫦…also sorry for taking so long on this anon, and everyone who loves this man, okay...enjoy my strange ladies.
، taglist𓈒 @uh444
You parked your car three blocks away from the Hayvenhurst gates, right under the shadow of an overgrown tree.
You sat there for a good five minutes, just letting the engine idle low, staring at your reflection in the rearview mirror, tapping your nails against your steering wheel. You fixed your hair, before checking your lip gloss in the dim light.
You were out your mind. Truly out your mind. It was going on one in the morning on a whole Tuesday, and here you were, acting like a thief in the night.
But see, the blame didn't even belong to you. It belonged to Jermaine and that damn voice of his.
Two hours ago, you were tucked up in your own bed, minding your business, trying to watch whatever late night rerun was playing. Then the phone rang. You picked up the receiver, and before you could even get a full "hello" out your mouth, that deep, sexy ass drawl came vibrating through the wire. He was talking about nothing at all- just humming, asking what you had on, telling you how quiet the house was, and laughing that low, rumbling laugh that always started in his chest.
And right now? You were right in the middle of your cycle. Ovulating down to your boots. Your body was betraying you, humming on the same exact frequency as his vocal cords. Every single word he said felt like a literal hand sliding down your stomach and into your panties to touch on your lil coochie. By the time he said, "You should to slide through, baby, I’m just chilling," you were already out of the sheets and looking for your keys.
You killed the headlights, slipped out the car, and closed the door, feeling like a woman on a mission.
Walking up to the perimeter of the Jackson estate at night was always a trip. The walls were high, the iron gates looked like they belonged to a fortress, and the security guards usually kept it locked down. But you’d been messing with Jermaine long enough to know the blind spots, the loose latches, and the exact shift changes. You slipped through the side pedestrian gate that you knew damn well wasn't clicking all the way shut right now, your flat sandals barely making a scrape against the stone walkway.
You breathed through your nose, your heart doing a little double tap against your ribs. If Katherine caught you sneaking around here at one o'clock in the morning, it was over for you. You’d never live down the shame of Mama Jackson looking at you sideways.
You made it to the back kitchen entrance, the one with the heavy glass door that led right into the living area. You pressed your hand against the glass, checking the lock. It yielded with a soft thud. Jermaine had left it cracked for you.
You slipped inside, the sudden blast of the central air conditioning hitting your warm skin and making your nipples instantly harden under your thin cotton tank top. You stood still in the dark living room, letting your eyes adjust, smelling the familiar scent of the house– expensive furniture polish, carpet cleaner, and...fried food?
You frowned, sniffing the air. The distinct, unmistakable aroma of seasoned oil, hot iron, and melting cheese was drifting through the hallway.
You crept forward, your feet silent on the cold floor of the living before transitioning onto the kitchen tile. The light from the kitchen stove hood was on, casting a warm, amber glow across the massive island.
You rounded the corner, expecting to see Jermaine standing there by his lonesome, maybe looking all smooth in a soft robe, waiting on you.
Instead, you froze.
Because there was two of 'em.
Jermaine was standing over a massive cast iron skillet, a spatula in his hand, wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and a white tank top that showed off every bit of his shoulders and arms.
And sitting right there on the counter, swinging his legs like he didn't have a care in the world, was Jackie.
Jackie had a half eaten piece of buttered toast in his hand, a glass of orange juice sitting next to his thigh, and he was right in the middle of laughing at something Jermaine said. He was wearing some shorts and a t shirt, looking like he’d just finished a workout or was about to start one, even though it was the middle of the night.
"I’m telling you, man, if you don't flip that now, it’s gonna burn," Jackie was saying, his voice a higher pitch than Jermaine’s, full of that brotherly agitation. "You let the grease get too hot."
"I know what I’m doing with the damn eggs, Jackie," Jermaine mumbled, his voice completely unbothered. He didn't even look up from the pan, his hips swaying just a fraction to some music only he could hear. "You eat your toast and stay outta my pan."
You stood there in the doorway, completely trapped. You couldn't back up because the floorboards behind you were creaky, and you couldn't slide past 'em because they were taking up the whole damn room.
You cleared your throat, just a little bit, trying not to scare 'em.
Jackie’s head snapped around first. His eyes went wide for a split second before a slow, wicked, completely knowing smirk spread across his face. He chewed his toast extra slow, leaning back against the upper cabinets.
"Well, well, well," Jackie drawled, loud enough to make Jermaine jump a little. "Look what the damn cat dragged in."
Jermaine turned around, the spatula still held mid air. When his eyes landed on you, a lazy, heavy eye lidded smile broke out across his face. He looked you up and down, taking in the tank top, the short shorts, and the look of irritation that was definitely settling onto your features.
"Hey, girl," Jermaine said, his voice dropping an octave, smooth as silk. He didn't even look embarrassed. He just looked pleased with himself.
"Hey," you muttered, crossing your arms over your chest, trying to ignore the way Jackie was grinning at you. "I didn't know it was a family reunion in here."
"Baby, don't mind him," Jermaine said, turning back to flip whatever concoction he had going on in that pan. It looked like some kind of massive, messy scramble with peppers, onions, and about three different types of cheese. "Jackie just down here being a nosey shmuck."
"Ain't nobody nosey," Jackie said, hopping down from the counter with an easy, athletic grace. He picked up his plate with the remaining crust of toast. "I was down here minding my stomach when this fool decided to come down and start a whole whole restaurant at one in the morning. And now I see why. You had to get your energy up, huh, J?"
"Man, shut up," Jermaine laughed, throwing a dish towel at his brother's head. Jackie ducked it easily, chuckling as he walked past you. “We ain’t even doing nothing.”
As Jackie got right next to you in the doorway, he paused, leaning in a little bit so only you could hear him. "He been talking about you for the last hour, girl. Good luck with him." He patted your shoulder, and started heading toward the stairs.
You watched him go, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. You turned your attention back to Jermaine, who was now sliding the massive plate of food further onto the counter so it wouldn’t fall off of it. There were four slices of toast, eggs in the pan, and a side of leftover fried chicken he’d apparently reheated in the oven.
"You fixing to feed an army?" you asked, walking closer, the scent of him finally hitting you.
"I'm hungry, baby," Jermaine said, not even looking at you yet as he grabbed a fork and a knife from the silver drawer. "I didn't even think you was really coming. You took so long, I thought you went to sleep."
He said it with his mouth already half full of an onion piece he’d picked out the pan, his jaw working as he mumbled the words.
You walked up behind him, the heat radiating off his back pulling you in. You didn't hesitate. You wrapped your arms tightly around his waist from behind, pressing your front against his back.
"Mmm," you murmured, your hands sliding down to the front of his sweatpants. You rubbed your palms over his flat, firm stomach, feeling the way his muscles tightened up instantly under your touch. Your long acrylics bit just a little bit into his skin through the fabric, your nails scratching lightly in slow circles up and down his midsection.
You leaned up on your tiptoes, pressing your lips against the warm skin of his neck. You kissed your way up to his jawline, leaving lingering, wet presses against his skin, biting down just a tiny bit on his shoulder.
Jermaine didn't even give a fuck. He just let out a low grunt, his body swaying just a fraction against yours, but he kept his eyes locked on that plate, spooning a little more onto it. He was playing with you, and you knew it. He loved the attention, loved the way you came in here starving for him, but he was going to take his sweet old time.
"You hungry?" he asked.
"Not for food," you whispered against his skin, your nails digging a little deeper into his hip bones.
"Mmm, oh."
Oh.
Oh?
You huffed, dropping your arms to stand next to him.
Here you were, driving through the night, your body practically on fire because of a phone call, and this man was standing here talking about eggs.
He stopped chewing for a second, holding the fork in mid air, a little piece of cheese hanging off the edge. He gave you that innocent, wide eyed look he always used when he knew he was pushing his luck.
"What?" he asked, his voice muffled by the food. "I gotta eat, right?"
"Jermaine."
"Come on upstairs with me," he said, completely ignoring your attitude as he picked up the heavy plate in one hand and a giant glass of sweet tea in the other. He used his elbow to nudge your hip. "Bring that napkin right there for me, will you?"
You sucked your teeth, a loud but you grabbed the cloth napkin anyway. You followed him out the kitchen, the two of you moving like two shadows through the long, carpeted hallways of Hayvenhurst.
Your eyes dropped down to his backside as you walked behind him. The way those sweatpants hung off his hips, framing his ass perfectly with every single step he took up those stairs; it was a problem. You let your eyes linger, your mouth going a little dry.
The man was gorgeous, even when he was being completely ridiculous, worried about a damn late night snack.
When you got to his bedroom, he pushed the door open with his foot and walked inside. The room was dark, and smelling faintly of incense. A single lamp was on by the bedside table, casting a warm light over the king sized bed that was unmade.
Jermaine set his plate down on the dark wood nightstand. He didn't even wait to sit down; he just leaned over the bed, took a huge bite of the fried chicken, and started chewing with an expression of bliss on his face.
You stood at the foot of the bed, your hands on your hips.
"So this is what we doing?" you asked, your voice dropping into that low tone. "I come all the way over here at two in the morning, and I’m just supposed to sit here and watch you perform an autopsy on some chicken?"
Jermaine swallowed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before remembering the napkin you brought. He reached over and took it from you, giving you another one of those slow, lazy smiles.
"Baby, I told you, I didn't think you was coming," he said, his voice dropping into that tone that had gotten you into this mess in the first place. He reached out, his big, warm hand catching your wrist and pulling you gently toward him. "You know how long it take you to get ready. I thought you was home doing your hair or something."
"My hair was already done, Jermaine," you said, letting him pull you until your knees hit the edge of the mattress, but you kept your arms crossed. "You was on the phone talking all that stuff, making me think you was lonely. You didn't say nothing about having a whole buffet in here."
"I am lonely," he said, his eyes dropping down to your lips, then down to where your tank top met your shorts. He gave your wrist a little squeeze. "But a man can't be lonely and hungry at the same time? That's too much suffering for one person."
"You ain't suffering," you scoffed, looking down at the plate. The food actually did smell amazing, and your own stomach gave a little traitorous rumble.
Jermaine laughed. He picked up his fork, cut off a perfect piece of the egg scramble, right where the cheese was melted and stretchy, and held it up to your mouth.
"Here," he murmured, his eyes locking onto yours. "Take a bite. Stop acting mean."
You looked at the fork, then at him. His eyes were full of that playful mischief that always won you over. You sighed, leaning forward, and let him feed you. The food was still hot, seasoned nicely with just enough pepper and salt, the cheese was nice. You chewed slowly, watching him.
"Good, right?" he asked, looking proud of himself.
"It's alright," you lied, wiping a bit of grease from your lip with your thumb.
"Yeah, okay," he chuckled, sitting back on the edge of the bed and going to town on the rest of the plate.
For the next ten minutes, you just sat there on the edge of the bed, watching this man eat like he hadn't seen food in a week. It was almost fascinating how much he could put away while still looking completely relaxed. He didn't rush. He chewed every bite, taking slow sips of his sweet tea, occasionally looking up at you to flash a greasy smile or to try and feed you a piece of chicken.
You just shook your head, the initial urgency of your hormones settling into a slow, simmering heat. You knew you weren't leaving. You were stuck here now.
Finally, Jermaine set the empty fork down on the plate with a satisfied sigh. He leaned back against his pillows, his stomach slightly rounder under the white tank top, looking like a big ass cat that just finished off a mouse.
"Man," he breathed, rubbing his hand over his chest. "That hit the spot right there."
You looked at him, then looked at the empty plate. "You done?"
"I'm done, baby," he said, his voice trailing off into a lazy yawn.
"Good. Now go brush your teeth," you said, reaching over to push his shoulder. "Because I know you ain't thinking about laying up in this bed with your mouth smelling like onions and shit."
Jermaine groaned, rolling his head back against the pillows. "Come on, girl. Give a man a minute to digest."
"No," you said, getting up from the bed and walking over to his bathroom door, throwing it open. The bright white light from the vanity spilled out into the dark bedroom. "Go. Right now."
Jermaine grumbled something under his breath, something that sounded suspiciously like you being bossy, but he got up anyway. He stretched his arms high above his head, his sweatpants slipping even lower, showing off the dark line of hair that disappeared into the fabric. You tried not to stare, but your body reminded you with a bruising ache right in your center that you were still very much waiting.
He shuffled into the bathroom, his bare feet padding against the marble tile. You followed him, leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed, watching his routine.
Jermaine was meticulous about his face and his teeth, no matter how tired or full he was. He grabbed his toothbrush, squeezing a generous amount of paste onto the bristles. He caught your eye in the mirror, giving you a mouthy grin before he started scrubbing.
The sound of him scrubbing filled the quiet bathroom, mixed with the rush of the warm water running from the faucet. He brushed for what felt like an eternity, getting every single tooth, his eyes never leaving yours in the glass. There was something intensely intimate about watching a man do something so mundane, especially a man who spent half his life in front of cameras and screaming fans. Here, in the quiet of his bathroom at two in the morning, he was just Jermaine, greasy lipped, full of food, and trying to get the onion smell out his mouth so he could get close to you.
He finally rinsed, spitting into the sink before wiping his mouth with a clean hand towel. He reached for the mouthwash, taking a huge swig and shaking his head back as he gargled, the sound rattling in his throat.
When he finally spit that out, he wiped his face again, turned off the water, and faced you.
He smelled like mint now, the scent of onion completely gone. He stepped close to you, his frame completely blocking out the light from the vanity, his chest just inches from your face.
"That better for you, Miss Lady?" he whispered, his voice completely clean, his breath hot and minty against your cheek.
You looked up at him, your heart doing that familiar thud against your ribs. The irritation was gone, replaced by that waiting that had been building up inside you since you were sitting in your own bed hours ago.
"Mmhmm," you hummed back, your hands finally leaving your chest and sliding up to rest against his warm, bare shoulders. "That's much better."
Jermaine smiled, a hungry look that told you the food had done exactly what it was supposed to do. He reached behind you, his hand finding the light switch and flipping it, plunging the bathroom into the dark.
"Come on," he murmured, his hands wrapping around your waist as he guided you back toward the bed.
He pushed you gently onto the bed before moving over you like a shadow.
Before you could even open your mouth to say anything, his hand came up, his long fingers cupping the back of your neck, and he pulled your face up to his.
Jermaine loved to kiss. It wasn't ever some quick, rushed thing just to get to the main event. This man would spend a whole seven minutes just working your mouth, tasting you, taking his time like he was trying to memorize the texture of your lips.
The minute his lips pressed against yours, you let out a soft sigh, your eyes fluttering shut. His mouth was warm, and soft. He started slow, just brushing his lips against yours, teasing the corners of your mouth until you whined, parting your lips to beg for more. He took that as his invitation, sliding his tongue inside with a smooth, deep stroke again your own that made your toes curl and clit jump.
He kissed you like it was new years and he kissed you like it was the end of the world. His hand on the back of your neck tightened just enough to keep you still, his thumb stroking along your jawline, holding you right where he wanted you. You tried to shift your hips against his, tried to reach down to get into his sweatpants, but the moment your hand strayed toward his waistband, he caught your wrist in his grip.
He pulled your hand away, pinning it flat against the mattress above your head, all without breaking the kiss. He let out a low warning grunt against your mouth, letting you know damn well that you weren't running this show. You weren't allowed anywhere near his pants until he was completely done with your mouth.
He kept kissing you. He changed the angle, tilting your head back further, his tongue swirling against your tongue in a rhythm that was so dirty it made your head spin. You could feel the wet, slippery sounds of your mouths meeting filling up the quiet bedroom. Every time you thought he was about to pull away, he’d just dive back in deeper, sucking on your bottom lip until it was swollen, tasting every single inch of your mouth until you were completely breathless, your heart hammering wildly in your chest. Your whole body was trembling underneath his weight, the ache between your legs growing so intense it was bordering on painful. Is this what having blue balls felt like?
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of torture but also pleasure, he slowly pulled his mouth back. Just an inch. His lips were wet, strings of slick following before cutting off, his eyes looking down at you through those long lashes. His breath was hot against your face.
"Take your shorts off," he rasped, his voice slightly rougher now. "Take 'em off and your panties..."
Your hands were shaking as you reached down, kicking out of your shorts and sliding your panties down your thighs, kicking them somewhere onto the floor. You shimmied back up a little towards the center of the bed, your heart in your throat.
Jermaine watched every single movement, sitting up, his knees settling between yours.
"Spread 'em for me," he commanded softly, his hand reaching down to rest on the inside of your thigh.
You swallowed hard, slowly opening your legs, parting yourself completely for him. Because you were ovulating, you were already incredibly slick, the cool air of the room hitting your wet skin and making you shiver.
Jermaine looked down, his eyes darkening as he saw how ready you were for him. He didn't rush. No, he never rushed. He brought his hand up, his long, dark fingers hovering just an inch away from your pussy, letting you wait for it for one more second.
Then, he pressed the pad of his thumb right against your clit.
You let out a loud, sharp gasp, your hips instantly bucking up off the mattress. "Jermaine-"
"Shh," he whispered, leaning down to press another wet kiss to your lips, stifling your cry. Even now, with his hand down there, his mouth was right back on yours, keeping you grounded, keeping you locked into him.
He slid his index finger down, dipping it right into the thick creaminess of your wetness. He let out a low, satisfied sound in his throat when he felt how soaked you were. He coated his fingers in your slickness, his thumb starting to rub in slow torturous circles over your clit, pressing down hard enough to make your brain go entirely foggy.
You were trying to keep your composure, but the sensation was too much. You pulled your mouth away from his, not even able to kiss him, your head tossing back onto the pillows, a low moan escaping your lips. "Oh my god, Jermaine..."
"You so wet," he murmured, his eyes locked on your face, watching every single expression that crossed your features. He loved seeing you like this; completely unraveled, completely at his mercy. "Look at you. You practically begging for it."
He didn't let you settle into the rhythm. Just as your body started getting used to the friction of his thumb, he slid his middle finger all the way inside you.
You let out a small strangled cry, your fingers hooking into the bedsheets, tearing at the fabric as his finger stretched you out. He was long, his knuckles thick, and the feeling of him filling you up while you were this sensitive was almost too much to bear. He pushed his finger in deep, all the way to the hilt, holding it there for a second so your pussy could adjust to him.
"Ah, shit, Jermaine, please..." you whined, your legs trembling, your knees shaking as you tried to hold yourself open for him.
"Please what?" he asked, his voice low and teasing. He started to curl his finger inside you, finding that perfect, sensitive spot along your front wall.
When he hit it, your whole body went stiff. An accidental broken sob like moan ripped from your throat, your hips arching off the bed, your hand slapping over your mouth, because it was almost three in the morning. You tried to close your legs around his hand, the pleasure too intense, but he used his other hand to pin your thigh down, keeping you wide open.
"Don't close up on me now," he muttered, his eyes burning into yours. "Stay right there."
He added a second finger, sliding it right alongside the first one. The sudden fullness made you gasp, your breath coming in short pants against your hand. He started a slow pumping motion, sliding his fingers in and out of your soaking wet pussy, the sound of his fingers squelching loudly against your slickness filling up the quiet room.
Squish, squish, squish.
The sound alone was enough to make you lose your mind as you pulled your hand away, biting your tongue so you wouldn't make a sound. Your skin was hot, your head leaning all the way, showing him the line of your throat. "Jermaine, wait, stop- I'm gonna- "
"No you ain't," he cut you off, his voice firm, entirely in control. He slowed his pace down to a crawl, dragging his fingers out until just the tips were inside, then pushing them back in with a slow thrust. He was intentionally keeping you right on the edge, refusing to let you cross that line yet. "You ain't coming yet. We just started." He was frowning like he was genuinely upset, as though you were at a party and you already wanted to leave even if you just got there.
He leaned down, his chest rubbing against your clothed breasts as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. He bit down on your shoulder blade, not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to make you let out a small whimper, distracting you from the overwhelming sensation between your legs.
His fingers kept moving inside you, all slow and deep. Every time he felt your walls start to tighten up, signaling that you were getting too close to the edge, he would stop completely, keeping his fingers buried deep inside you, just holding you there while his thumb worked your clit in slow circles.
You were crying now, your voice raw, entirely expressive. You couldn't hide a single thing from him. Your hips were moving on their own, trying to chase his hand, trying to force him to move faster, but he was like a rock over you, completely unbothered by your struggles.
"Look at me," he commanded, his voice vibrating against your neck.
You forced your eyes open, your vision blurry with tears of pleasure. He lifted his head, looking down at you with a satisfied grin. He looked so damn handsome, so completely in his element, that it made your heart ache just as much as your body.
"You like that, baby?" he whispered, his fingers giving a sudden roll inside you that made your eyes roll back.
"Yes- yes, Jermaine, please, oh my god..."
"I got you," he murmured, his lips coming back down to capture yours, drinking in your loud, breathless moans as he finally began to pick up the pace, dragging you deeper and deeper into the heat.
He could feel your walls fluttering around his fingers like a trapped bird, squeezing down on him so tight it felt like you were trying to wring every last bit of friction out of his fingers. You were completely at his mercy, trembling from your shoulders all the way down to your toes, your fingers digging so deep into the bedsheets you could hear the threads straining under your grip.
"That's it," Jermaine said against your lips, his voice dropping into a thick, low growl that vibrated directly into your open mouth. "Give it to me, baby."
He sped up his thumb just a fraction, hitting that tiny, swollen pearl of skin with pressure while his two fingers worked inside you. That was the final blow. A shattered, high pitched scream tried to tear its way out of your throat.
Before the sound could even carry out into the quiet room, Jermaine’s mouth smashed down onto yours, swallowing the high note of your orgasm whole. He drank in every single drop of your vocal distress, his tongue sliding deep into your mouth while your body shook beneath him. The release hit you so hard it turned your limbs to dead weight, warm pleasure washing over your hips and rolling down your thighs like a dam breaking open.
You were practically floating, your breathing coming in short, pathetic little hitches as the climax slowly began to settle into a soft but burning hum deep in your belly. You let out an exhale, your eyelids feeling so heavy you could barely keep them half open. You thought he was done.
You were dead wrong.
Jermaine didn't pull his fingers out. He left them buried deep inside your hot, slick walls, his wrist pressed against your skin, letting you feel every single beat of his pulse against you. He lifted his head up slowly, his eyes sparkling with a wicked kind of satisfaction as he looked down at your tired face. His lips were shiny, swollen from your kiss, and he had a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Look at you," he murmured softly, his thumb giving your clit one light flick that made your whole lower body jump like you’d been shocked with live electricity. "Look how soft you got for me, baby. You thought I was letting you off that easy?"
"Jermaine...wait," you gasped out. You reached out with a trembling hand, trying to push against his hard, smooth chest, but you had zero strength left. "Please...I'm- I'm so sensitive right now, baby, give me a minute–"
"Nah," he grunted, his tone completely smooth, entirely uncompromising. "We ain't taking no breaks tonight. I told you I was hungry, didn't I?"
Before your foggy, orgasm drunk brain could even process what he meant by that, Jermaine shifted his weight back onto his knees. He dragged himself down slowly, his broad, bare chest scraping against your ribs and your stomach, his hot breath trailing a burning path down your skin.
He gripped your thighs with both of his hands, his long fingers biting gently into your soft flesh, and pulled you all the way to the very edge of the mattress. He spread your legs wide open again, wider than before, pinning your knees back toward your chest so you were completely exposed to him all over again.
The cool air hitting your wet, sensitive skin sent a shiver down your spine, and the feeling of being completely unraveled made you try to cover yourself. But you were too slow.
Jermaine leaned down, bringing his face right between your thighs. He didn't pause nor did he give you a second to brace yourself, he just buried his nose right into your pussy, inhaling deep like he was breathing in the finest cologne, before pressing his open mouth directly against your pulsing, wet cunt.
"Oh– fuck!" you shrieked, the sound tearing out of your chest before you could stop it.
The contact was so sudden that your hips jerked upward. It felt like a shockwave went straight up your spine. The heat of his tongue lap lapping against your sensitive clit sent a wave of sensation crashing over you, so sharp that it almost felt like pain.
Remembering where you were, you slammed your hand over your own mouth. You clamped your palm down over your lips so hard your knuckles turned white, biting down on the meat of your hand to muffle the loud, broken noises trying to spill out of you.
Jermaine felt you tense up, he also felt the way your body was trying to pull away from the intensity of it all, but he just wrapped his big arms around your thighs, locking you completely in place. He was going crazy down there. He ate you like a starving man sitting down to his first real meal in days.
He slipped his tongue long and flat right up your slick slit, dragging it all the way from the bottom up to the top, taking his sweet time with every single stroke just like he had done his food. Every time his tongue flicked over your swollen clit, your eyes rolled into the back of your head, a muffled, desperate whine bursting past your hand.
“Mmph– nnngh!”
He loved hearing those pathetic little sounds escaping around your fingers. It drove him crazy. He raised his eyes up, looking at you from between your wide spread legs, watching you struggle to keep quiet. His face was slick with your warm juices, all glistening and shit, looking completely devious.
Without breaking eye contact, he cupped your ass cheeks in his hands, lifting your hips up just a fraction higher, and plunged his tongue as deep inside you as it could physically go. He swirled it around in circular strokes, tasting every single bit of the thick sweetness you were giving to him, before pulling back just enough and moving your hips back down to suck your clit directly into his warm mouth.
"J-Jermaine!" you choked out, your voice muffled behind your hand, your other arm reaching down frantically.
You weren't trying to push him away anymore, you couldn't if you tried. Instead, your hand plunged into his hair, your nails digging deep into his thick curls, gripping him by the roots. You tried to pull him closer, then tried to push him away, your fingers tangling desperately in his hair as your body lost all sense of control. You pulled on his hair hard enough to pull his head tight against your pelvis, but he didn't mind it at all; he just grunted against your wet skin, the vibration of his voice traveling straight into your nerve endings and making you lose your damn mind.
He started eating you faster, his tongue working in relentless, slick laps that sounded impossibly loud in the silent room.
Your hips began to move completely on their own, rolling against his mouth, trying to chase that sharp peak that was building up again WAY too fast. Your body was still exhausted from the first climax, making this second one feel ten times heavier, ten times more overwhelming. It was building up like a tidal wave.
"Stop...please, Jermaine, stop, I can't…" you whimpered, your legs shaking so hard they were visibly violently trembling in his grip. "It's too much– uhn– Jermaine– !"
Jermaine didn't listen to a single word. He pulled his mouth off your clit for just half a second, his lips slick and dripping, his breath hot as hell against your inner thigh.
"Cover your mouth," he ordered softly. "Just take it."
He plunged two fingers right back inside your soaking wet hole, filling you up completely, while his tongue went right back to relentlessly working your clit.
You bit down on your own hand so hard you nearly broke the skin, your toes curling tightly toward the mattress as your walls clamped down around his fingers like a vise. Your body convulsed, a long, muffled, shattered scream burying itself into your palm as you came violently all over his face and hands.
Your hips pushed against his mouth, your nails yanking on his hair as you rode out the orgasm. The spasm were so deep, and so intense, that your whole lower half felt like it was too warm, liquid pouring out of you and coating his fingers, his lips, his chin.
He stayed right there between your thighs for a second, catching his breath. He wiped his chin with the back of his hand, but when he pulled his hand away, he actually felt the amount of wetness coating his palm, and his wrists.
He looked down at his hand, then looked closely at the sheet beneath your ass, which was completely drenched, a dark circle spreading out onto the fabric.
A devious grin stretched across his face, his eyes lighting up with absolute amazement and pride. He leaned back on his heels, letting out a low, breathless whistle that cut right through the quiet room.
"Aw, nah," he whispered, his voice dripping with smooth, raspy disbelief. "Look at this shit...you done went and squirted all over the bed, girl."
Your eyes snapped open, wide and glossy with lingering tears, your skin turning instantly hot. Your chest heaving up and down like you’d just ran a whole mile.
"Jermaine, shut up," you gasped out.
You quickly scrambled to pull your legs together, your thighs shaking. You tried to slide back up the mattress, trying to cover yourself, completely embarrassed by how completely you had lost control. Your muscles felt like warm butter, zero strength left in your arms or your legs, making you look like a newborn calf just trying to move away from him.
"Nah, don't try to hide it now," Jermaine chuckled, moving up the bed right alongside you. He reached out with his arms and pulled your soft, trembling body right back into his chest, gathering you up into his lap like you belonged there. "Look at you shaking like a leaf, baby."
"Because you don't know how to act," you mumbled, hiding your face right into the crook of his neck. You wrapped your weak arms around his shoulders, breathing in his skin, completely exhausted. "I'm tired as hell, Jermaine. My legs feel weird."
"I know," he murmured, his tone shifting instantly from that playful teasing to something incredibly sweet.
He wrapped his large, warm hands around your bare thighs, his palms smoothing over your skin in long, comforting strokes. He began pressing soft, lingering kisses all over the side of your face; first your cheek, then the corner of your eye, down your jawline, and right onto your burning neck.
Every time his warm lips hit your skin, a tiny, involuntary noise escaped your throat; a soft, pitiful little sigh that made him grin against your skin.
"I know, baby. I know," he whispered softly, his deep voice vibrating right against your ribs as he kept rubbing your thighs, soothing the edge of the sensitivity. "I got you. You good. I just had to taste you, that's all. Couldn't help myself."
He kept kissing you, taking his time, his tongue taking tiny, lazy licks at your neck, making you shift resting in his arms. He cradled you close, holding you against his warm chest until the trembling in your legs slowly started to settle down into a soft ache.
"You alright?" he asked softly, resting his chin on top of your head, his hand sliding up your back to pull you against him. "Or you want me to just put you to bed?"
You lay there for a second, listening to the steady beat of his heart under your cheek. Your body was exhausted, yeah, but as your head started to clear, you felt the heavy bulge of his erection pressing firm and thick right against your hip through his sweatpants. He had spent all this time working you over, eating you until you lost your damn mind, and he hadn't even touched himself yet. He had been completely focused on your pleasure, completely unselfish, just taking care of you first like he always did.
And looking at him now, his hair a little wild from your hands pulling on it, his lips slick, the sheer sight of him made that warm, familiar ache bloom right back up in the pit of your stomach.
You lifted your head off his chest, looking up into his eyes.
"You think you just gonna put me to bed after all that?" you murmured, a tiny, tired little smile playing on your lips.
Jermaine raised one eyebrow, looking down at you with surprised amusement. "What, you got some energy left?"
"Not for riding," you whispered, sliding your hand down his stomach, letting your acrylics drag lightly over the waistband of his sweatpants. "But I know you ain't sit up here and do all that just to go to sleep empty handed."
He let out a low chuckle, his hand coming down to rest over yours. "Baby, you don't gotta do nothing. You exhausted."
"Shut up and let me handle it," you muttered softly, pushing yourself up onto your knees.
You shifted your weight, sliding down his body until you were kneeling right between his open legs on the mattress. Jermaine leaned his back up against the headboard, his heavy eyelids dropping low as he watched you.
You reached out, your fingers hooking into the elastic waistband of his sweatpants. You pulled them down slowly, dragging his briefs down with them, letting his heavy, fully erected dick spring free.
He was thick, dark, and completely ready, glistening at the head with pre cum.
You leaned in close, wrapping your hand firmly around him, feeling how warm and rock hard he was in your grip. You lowered your head, pressing a soft, warm kiss right to the soft skin of his inner thigh, right next to his groin, making him let out a long exhale through his nose.
"Fuck, baby..." he rasped out, his hands instantly reaching up to rest in the messy sheets beside him.
You moved your mouth closer, taking the rounded head of his dick into your mouth, wrapping your wet lips tight around him as you pulled him in. You dragged your tongue up the underside of his shaft, swirling it right over the sensitive tip, taking in every drop of his moisture.
Jermaine’s hips gave an involuntary jerk, a low groan tearing out from deep inside his chest. "Shit..."
You slid your hands further down, your fingers gently cupping his balls. You weighed them in your palm, your long nails lightly scratching against the soft, sensitive skin of his scrotum, making his whole lower body go tight. You leaned down lower, taking one of his balls into your mouth, sucking softly while your thumb smoothed over the other, working him with a slow, thorough pace that was taking his breath away.
"Ah, fuck, honey..." Jermaine hissed, his head falling back against the headboard, his chest rising and falling heavily. "You trying to kill a nigga tonight, swear to God..."
You pulled back from his balls, licking a wet path all the way back up his thick vein to the very tip. You opened your mouth wide, taking him deep into your throat, swallowing as much of his length as you could manage. You kept your lips tight, creating a warm suction as you began to move your head up and down in a filthy bob.
The wet sounds filled up the quiet bedroom, echoing off the walls. Jermaine’s hands came up from the sheets, his fingers entangling themselves into your hair, holding your head as you worked him. He wasn't pushing you down too hard, he was gentle, guided by pleasure, but he was holding you right where he wanted you, his hips rising up off the bed to meet every single downward stroke of your mouth.
"Fuck, you feel so good," he grunted out, his voice completely raw. "Look at you...taking all of it."
Hearing him talk to you like that, feeling the way his body was shuddering under your hands, did something to you. You worked your tongue around the head, bobbing faster, your hand sliding up and down the base to match the rhythm of your mouth. You took him all the way to the back of your throat, feeling his pre cum leaking onto your tongue, tasting him completely.
Jermaine’s breath came in ragged, sharp gasps, his grip in your hair tightening just a fraction as his hips began to pump faster into your wet mouth.
"Wait, wait...baby, pull back," he grunted out suddenly, his voice raspy with warning, his muscles locking up tight. "Pull back before I bust right in your mouth..."
You pulled completely back off him for a split second, taking a second to catch your own breath while you held his dick in your hand. Your heart was beating like a drum against your ribs. You looked up at him, biting down on your swollen bottom lip, your eyes locking onto his blown out gaze.
Instead of letting him cool off, you kept your hand wrapped tight around his length, giving him a few slow, firm strokes, up and down, dragging your thumb right over the sensitive, glistening tip to keep him right on the edge.
Jermaine let out a harsh, gravelly exhale through his teeth, his hips giving a subtle, involuntary jerk into your palm. "Ah...baby- mmnhmm..."
You shifted your weight, swinging one leg over his lap so you were straddling his thigh. You weren't sitting on his dick, you kept yourself hovering just in front of it, your thighs gripping his tight while your wet pussy pressed against the broad muscle of his upper leg.
You leaned in close, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, and captured his mouth again.
You tasted like him, he tasted like you, and the clash of your tongues sent a jolt of fire straight down to your toes.
Mid kiss, you slowly pulled your head back just an inch, breaking the seal of your lips with a soft, wet sound. You looked into his eyes, your breathing coming in shallow pants.
You raised one hand between your faces, gathering up a pool of slick saliva in your mouth, and spit right into your own hand. Then, without breaking eye contact, you raised your eyebrows, giving him a look, gesturing for him to do the exact same thing.
Jermaine stared at you for a half second before a small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. He leaned his head forward, gathering up his own slick spit, and dropped a heavy pool of it right into your open palm with yours.
You reached down between your legs, sliding that same hand down to your soaking wet cunt. You gathered up a fingers worth of your own creamy, hot slick nut and brought it all together. You mixed the spit, his pre cum, and your wetness right on the shaft of his dick, rubbing your palm up and down his entire length until his dick was completely drenched, shining wet and slippery in the dim room light.
Jermaine let out a low groan from the back of his throat, his head hitting the headboard with a soft thud as he shook it side to side as though he were disappointed. "Fuck...you so nasty for that, girl."
"You like it," you whispered against his jaw, your voice practically a goner.
You gripped his jaw with your free hand before you crashed your mouth right back onto his.
While your hand kept up a slow, relentless stroke on his slick, dripping dick, making that wet squelch slick sound every time your palm slid up to his top, Jermaine’s hands went all over your body.
His large, warm hands wandered up under your shirt, because Jermaine just loved you with your shirt on, his palms cupping your breasts, his thumbs rolling over your hard, swollen nipples. Every time he squeezed, you let out a muffled, high pitched whine directly into his mouth. He caught the noise, before sliding one hand down your back, his long fingers digging into your soft ass cheeks to pull you down tighter against his leg.
He stroked your hips, smoothed his hands over your hot skin, his thumb occasionally sliding down to flick against your clit just to hear you whimper against his lips. In return, you varied your pace on his dick, sometimes twisting your hand at the top, sometimes squeezing lightly at his balls while your wet palm pumped his shaft.
Every time you hit the right spot, Jermaine would let out these hushed, quiet moans and deep, chesty grunts that vibrated straight through your body. He was trying so hard to stay quiet, his jaw tight, his chest heaving, but the messy friction you were making on his little friend down there was driving him past his limit.
"Ah...shit...baby..." he rasped against your lips, his tongue lazily tangling with yours as his breathing grew shorter, and more frantic. "Right there...don't stop...keep stroking like that..."
You kept going, your hand moving faster now, the wet slick squelching loudly between your fingers. You rubbed your wet, warm pussy lightly against his thigh to match the stroke of your hand, giving yourself just enough friction to keep you hovering right on the edge along with him.
Jermaine’s hands clamped down hard on your hips, pinning you to him. His head pressing against your shoulder as he let out a long, trembling, muffled moan.
His whole body went stiff as board underneath you. His hips gave two, three thrusts up into your pumping hand, and he finally came, you watched in awe as he lifted his head against your cheek to kiss it.
Thick, hot streams of his nut spurted out, coating your wet palm, your fingers, and splashing up onto his stomach. He kept moaning softly against your cheek, his breath coming in hot, ragged hitches against your skin while his body shuddered through every last pulse of his release.
The room was dead silent, with the exception of the synchronized sound of your breathing. The clock on the nightstand flicked quietly past two in the morning.
Jermaine’s shoulders were glistening with a thin sheen of sweat as you lay your head on his shoulder, his hands still resting on the small of your back, holding you against him like he was terrified you’d slip away. His body felt completely spent, his muscles relaxed into that post cum languor that made him feel like his legs were asleep under your thighs.
You slowly lifted your head off his shoulder, looking down at his stomach, which was completely painted with his creamy, cloudy nut, dripping down over his dark skin and coating your right hand.
You looked up at him through your lashes. His hooded eyelids watching you with that gaze that told you that you did good and he had an amazing time.
Slowly, you brought your hand up to your mouth.
You didn't wipe it on the sheet, and you didn't reach for a towel. You stuck your tongue out, taking a lazy lick right across the palm of your hand, cleaning up the thickest part of his release. You closed your lips around your fingers, sucking them clean one by one, making a soft, wet sound in the silent room as you tasted what came outta him but was completely yours.
Jermaine’s eyes opened a little wider at the sight. A low hum vibrated deep in his throat, his eyebrows pulling together.
"Damn," he rasped. "You really sum' else, you know that?"
You didn't even answer him with words. You just smirked, dragging your tongue over your thumb until your hand was completely clean.
Then, you shifted your weight off his thighs before you leaned forward, hovering your face right over his stomach. You lowered your head, pressing your warm tongue directly against the smooth skin just below his belly button, dragging it upward in a slow, wet line right through the warm mess on his skin.
Jermaine’s stomach muscles instantly jumped under your tongue, tightening up in a sharp reflex. He let out a hissed gasp through his teeth.
"Shit..." he muttered, his head tilting back against the wood again. "You ain't gotta do all that, baby..."
"Yes I do," you murmured against his skin, your voice muffled.
You kept going, taking your sweet time with him. You dragged your tongue up his stomach, taking every drop of his nut off his dark skin, licking him clean with slow strokes. You used your lips and the tip of your tongue to clean every crease, every smooth dip of his abdomen, tasting the salty, warm contrast of his skin against his release. You took a tiny, light bite out of his hip bone, making him let out a hushed groan, before licking and sucking over the spot to soothe the sting.
He just lay there, completely at your mercy, his chest rising and falling, his hands stroking your back, your shoulders, his long fingers tangling aimlessly through your hair while you worked over his body. It was almost sweet in a way.
When you were finally satisfied, having licked his stomach completely clean, you smoothed your wet tongue up his sternum, kissing your way up the center of his chest. You lingered over his heart, listening to the steady thudding underneath his ribs, before trailing your mouth up the side of his throat. You bit lightly into his skin, leaving a soft, wet press of your lips right at the base of his neck.
Jermaine’s hand came up, his long fingers cupping the side of your face, his broad thumb sweeping gently over your cheek bone. He pulled your head up, forcing you to look at him in the dim light.
"Come here," he whispered.
You slid up his body, bringing your face right down to his, and pressed your lips directly to his.
The kiss was slow, your tongues slid together in a soft rhythm, you could feel the complete satisfaction humming between you.
Jermaine’s tongue lazily swirling against yours, sucking on your lower lip with a soft, persistent pull that made your whole body feel like it was melting right into his chest. He tasted every inch of your mouth, over and over, his thumb gently stroking your jaw, keeping you locked right there against him.
Every time you tried to pull back just a fraction to catch your breath, he’d just follow your mouth, humming softly against your lips, deepening the kiss until you were completely breathless again.
"Mmm..." you let out a soft, muffled whine into his mouth, your body relaxing entirely limp over his frame.
He pulled his mouth back just an inch, his lips wet and shining, resting his head against against the headboard.
"That was crazy, girl," he whispered.
"Yeah. You loved it though," you murmured back, your eyes closed, resting your chin on his chest.
"Yeah, I did," he admitted, his arm wrapping firmly around your waist, pulling the blanket up from the foot of the bed and sliding it over both of your bodies– it was fucking disgusting but who has the energy to care right now. "I love you."
You laughed softly, your arm wrapping tight around his waist. “I love you too.”
© 2026 Strangerexee. All rights reserved or wtv.
