Shag me, no regrets.
Note: This turned out a lot different and longer than I originally planned. I hope you like it anyway. ;)
His shirt is off, her dress bunched up around her waist, their lips entwined. She’s running out of breath but she refuses to break the kiss off. She doesn’t want to see the smug smirk on his face or the triumphant look in his eyes knowing he’d won yet again. He leans forward, her back hits hard against the driving wheel behind her but she’s not complaining because his kisses are fast becoming more urgent and forceful, like he needs her as much as she does him.
There’s something about the way he holds her, grip tight and fingers digging so deep she’s sure it would leave bruises on her skin if she didn’t heal so quickly. It’s almost possessive, as if he’s claiming her as his even though they both know she isn’t, will never be.
Eventually, she pulls out of the kiss, unable to hold her breath any longer. He’s looking right at her and there’s something different in his eyes. There’s a hint of softness and she doesn’t know what to make of it. The silence is suddenly unbearable and she feels the need to break it.
"Don’t." She lets out a sigh, feeling exasperated. "Don’t look at me like that."
"Like what?" He raises his brows in question, his fingers slipping inside her easily. Just like that, the softness is gone and Jackson is back.
"Like you—." She loses her trail of thought as he pumps his fingers in and out of her fast and unforgiving, the way she likes it best. She hates that he knows her body so well now, knows exactly where to touch her and how to make her—oh.
There’s that smirk again, the one she has grown fond of hates so much so she does the only thing she can think of, leans forward and wipes it off with a kiss.
