Looking for Trouble (Jackson: Girls' Night Out 1)

The pleasure was weight inside him. Weight and tension that drew his whole world down to where her tongue slid up and down around his wet shaft. Alex watched. He watched himself disappear into her mouth over and over. Watched the way his rough fingers clutched at her smooth red hair. And beyond all that, the pretty pink tips of her breasts and her hand disappearing between her legs.

She jerked back and Alex let her. His cock slid free of her mouth, the air a sudden cold grip around him. Sophie threw her head back and cried out, the muscles of her neck tight as she came, her hips spasming against her own hand. Her cry went hoarse, and then faded to a whimper. Alex squeezed his cock hard, determined to hold back his own orgasm for a few more moments.

Her eyes opened, dazed and heavy when she looked up at him. Her mouth was red and wet. Her cheeks pink with a blush that had nothing to do with shame.

“Good,” he whispered.

She nodded. Yes, she was very good and she knew it. A nice girl who liked it hard and wet and filthy.

“Now open your mouth.” She did as he asked, just as he’d known she would. Alex slid his cock between her lips and cupped her head with both hands. He pushed in as deep as he could. She didn’t pull away. She braced her hands on his hips and she let him fuck her that way. Slowly, carefully, her mouth the most perfect thing he’d ever felt. And when he finally came, the world collapsing into that drawn-out moment of climax, she swallowed every drop.

His head dropped, too heavy for his neck to support anymore, and he watched in shock as she drew back just enough to lick his cock clean. He shuddered at the swipe of her tongue against oversensitive flesh, but he didn’t stop her. He’d never do that.

When she finally sat back on her haunches, Alex let his legs give way and he collapsed onto the couch. “Holy shit,” he breathed, dropping his head back for a moment to catch his breath. Once the room stopped spinning, he tugged his jeans up, then reached down to pull Sophie onto the couch.

When he drew her close, she curled onto his lap, her body fitting into his like she’d always been there. He couldn’t move. He never wanted to move. Her fingers spread over his bare chest and her cheek was warm against his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her and stroked her back, marveling at the softness.

“Are my hands too rough?” he asked, worried that the slide of his fingers over such perfect skin might annoy her. But she shook her head and sank a little more deeply into him.

He didn’t feel much like a loner right then. It felt nice here with her. Comfortable and warm. He wondered how late it was and didn’t particularly care. He just tucked her head under his chin and closed his eyes. “Sophie?”

“Hmm?”

“You open to me crashing here tonight?”

She nodded and Alex sighe

d. He didn’t want to move, much less get on his bike and ride through the cold night to his dreary hotel room.

But apparently Sophie wasn’t as ruined as he was, because a few minutes later, she stretched and sat up. “I’m going to take a shower. There’s beer in the fridge, I think.”

“Thanks.”

She stood as if her legs weren’t weak at all, but Alex didn’t take offense. Instead, he took the opportunity to watch her move nearly naked around the couch, picking up clothing as she went. Her little round ass made his mouth water.

She caught him watching as she walked out the room and flashed a smile over her naked shoulder.

“I should’ve taken a fucking picture,” he muttered to himself. He’d like to remember that sly look forever.

He must’ve dozed for a moment, because he snapped awake when he heard the pipes whoosh to life on the other side of the wall. After sex like that, he could’ve just tipped right over and slept on the couch for eight hours, but he didn’t want her thinking she’d ruined him, even if she had. A man had his pride, after all. Plus, a cold beer sounded damn good.

Alex forced his exhausted muscles to work and got to his feet. He fastened his jeans and grabbed a beer from the fridge and downed half of it within seconds. He hadn’t thought the night could get better, but the ice-cold beer was a perfect cap to the hottest blow job he’d ever had.

Smiling, Alex wandered the room to try to get a feel for Sophie, but everything here clearly belonged to her great-uncle...unless Sophie was an outdoorsy vampire who’d won the Snake River Fly Fishing Championship of 1963. He’d have to ask her about it later.

Still, he took in the old photographs and Western fiction and moved around the room, if only because he knew he’d fall asleep if he sat down again. The kitten jumped up and followed him.

He recognized a lot of the places in the photographs. They came from the same place, he and Sophie. The same place, the same circumstances, the same defining event. Funny that they’d turned out so differently. She took care of people. He cut them loose. She was a dreamer. He kept moving and didn’t dream about anything.

He was almost done with his circle of the room when he saw the open boxes near the small dining table. One box was filled with large photo albums of some kind. The other was overflowing with paper and scissors and tape and various sparkly things. On the table, one of the albums was open. He could see pictures.

Alex glanced toward the bedroom, feeling guilty, but it wasn’t exactly snooping if the thing was open, so he stepped forward and looked.

The picture wasn’t a photo; it was a postcard of a beach. Glittery script spelled out FLORIDA in green letters and ended in a colorful beach umbrella. The other side of the album featured a postcard of an alligator sunning itself in a swamp. Facts about the Everglades were printed out on paper shaped liked an orange.

Alex blinked and turned the page, only to find more postcards. These were from New York. The next page was different, though. This was a brochure for camping in national parks. Not at a campground, though. This was the chance to spend the night in an old fire tower, two hundred feet above the forest. Nothing decorated this page except pale green shading that disappeared halfway up the paper.

Another page was a postcard from a cave in West Virginia. Colored lights lit up the stalactites, making them glow. A trail of sparkly jewels swept across the page above it.