There's something about jack drury that just tells me he's not as sweet and innocent as he seems. Boy is a FREAK in the sheets and I'll stand by that
nsfw content below
jack kisses like he speaksāsoft, careful, like heās worried you might break under his hands. but when you shift in his lap, pressing closer, his fingers tighten on your hip. not rough, not yet, but thereās something there, something wound tight under all that golden-boy sweetness.
you test it. move again, just a little grind, andāoh. his breath hitches, barely more than a whisper against your mouth, but his grip clenches, and when he exhales, itās a slow, shuddering thing.
āfuck,ā he murmurs, like heās scolding himself, and his hands are already smoothing down your back, settling on your ass. not squeezing, not pushingājust holding, feeling.
you want to tease him, make some crack about him being shy, but then he shifts under you, and you feel it. fuck. not shy at all.
his lips are back on yours before you can say anything, and itās different nowāhungrier, mouth parting, tongue slipping in to taste. still careful, but not in the same way. not because heās timid, but because heās taking his time. like heās savoring it. savoring you.
his fingers flex on your ass, just a little, and he hums against your lips. ābeen thinking about this all night.ā
his voice hasnāt changed. still soft, still sweet. but his hands start to move, slow, dragging over your thighs, slipping under your shirt, his palms warm against your skin. he doesnāt rush, just traces, like heās mapping every inch.
his breath brushes your ear when he speaks again. āyou donāt mind if i take my time, do you?ā
your hands bury in his hair, and you donāt care if it messes up that perfectly tousled blond mop. āplease,ā you breathe, and you feel him smile against your jaw.
his fingers dip lower, teasing at the waistband of your pants. āgood,ā he says, still so gentle. still so fucking polite. and thenāthen he yanks your hips down, grinding you against him, and the sound you make is embarrassing, but he just groans, quiet but wrecked.
his other hand comes up, slides under your chin, tilting your head back just enough so he can kiss down your throat. open-mouthed, slow, a tease. his teeth scrape, but he doesnāt biteānot yet. heās playing with you.
his fingers work your button open, then your zipper, the whole time moving so fucking unhurried, like youāve got all the time in the world, like heās perfectly content to just sit here and ruin you inch by inch.
his voice is still so soft when he asks, āyou gonna let me have you right here?ā
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