Two Weeks (16 page)

But it's more than that.

I rise to my feet and approach him. When I meet him in the yard, he gently strokes my hair with his hand. His touch is warm, and the sensation rushes through me, spilling through and saturating every pore. I can feel the gentle hardening of my nipples inside my bra. I'm slowly cooking.

But then Jackson sprints away. "C'mon!" he shouts again. My moment of introspection falls apart. I run after him. I'm filled with joy. My heart is racing.

Oh, God.

Jackson's right in front of the water and I catch him dropping his shorts. I can see his incredible ass, along with the rest of his leg muscles. He really is a human sculpture. I'm suddenly imagining his muscles flexing and pulsing as we—

"I'm going under water until you get in... naked. If you play any games, I'm gonna drown myself, I swear to God." Jackson takes a running sprint and leaps into the lake, settling with a huge splash. The wet shrapnel of the blast barely misses me.

"Wait, are you kidding?" I shout.

His head bobs up for a second. "No, I'm not kidding. We start
now
." Just like that, he vanishes under the water, like a mole in one of those whack-a-mole games that you're supposed to smash with a mallet whenever they pop up. If I don't play this right, Jackson might be one mole that never pops up again.

I freeze for a second, nervous about going in the water. My shaky hands find the zipper on the back of my dress and undo it. But I don't go any further.
Shit, can I do this?

As much as I'm feeling embarrassed and self-conscious, I actually want to do this.

Jackson's not coming up. Almost a minute has passed already. "Shit," I say. Something tells me that Jackson is great at pushing himself to the limit. This could turn out very bad.

Finally, I spring to action. If I don't, he might die.

I wriggle out of my dress at light speed and then unclasp my bra as rapidly as I can. I shove my panties to the ground, and a few seconds later, I jump in.

I fly through the air, shocked that I just leapt into this lake naked. Will the water be freezing cold? Is it actually full of things that will bite me? Had Jackson already drowned?

Splash!
I hit the water and go under for a second, just enough that my hair gets soaked. All of my qualms vanish at once. The water is absolutely perfect. Not too cold, not too hot. It's wonderful. My feet kick beneath me, keeping me from touching the bottom. It's fairly shallow.

Shit. Where is Jackson?

I prepare to dive down and pull his massive body to shore and perform CPR when I feel a huge splash behind me. It's Jackson. He's risen behind me like a sexy Loch Ness Monster. He starts laughing.

"Jackson! You're such an asshole. I thought you drowned! Some way you have of getting girls out of their clothes."

He shakes his head and runs his hands through his hair. "I'm good at holding my breath. That wasn't even my max time. Plus, it worked, didn't it?"

"Dick," I mutter. I splash him and then wait for his retaliation—but none occurs.

"I knew I could do it," he says snidely.

"Do what? Freak me out?"

"Get you naked. That's what. I'm goal oriented, as I've explained."

I go to splash him again in feigned frustration, but he disappears under the water. I try to follow him as he swims past me. He's gone before I even figure out where he is. I groan in frustration. He's like a shark.

On my own, I frolic in the water, enjoying the night. The moon glows above the pond; we're the only ones taking advantage of its perfect temperature. It's so placid. I'm overwhelmed by incredible joy, totally lost in the moment.

I totally forget that I'm naked. I'm just having fun. My inhibitions are gone.

Jackson pops up near me again. "God, you've got a great body, Ally," he says sleazily. "I was taking a look under water."

"You're such a perv," I say. I'm fairly certain he's lying, but what if he isn't? The thought lights that fire in my core again. Even though he's acting like a teenage boy, he's fully aware that he's teasing me—and he's damn good at it.

"I'm just kidding," he says. "I shouldn't talk about your body like that."

I'm already ready to rebuff him, to give him a taste of his own medicine. "Yes, please don't say another nice word about my body," I say. "I'm
sick
of compliments," I scoff.

"You like it," he says low and growly. "I know you do." He swims closer to me. All I can see is his face approaching, his body still hidden beneath the water.

That force is alive inside me again. He's brought it back from the dead. "I didn't say
that
," I whisper.

"Do you see anyone out here?" he says, hoisting his arm above the water to point toward the empty wilderness that surrounds us. "I told you it would be fine. Plus, it's kind of liberating, isn't it?"

"I guess you're right."

"And to think, you tried to get out of it just because you didn't have a bathing suit. You would have missed out on all this fun."

I smile and plant my feet against the bottom. I'm standing, but the water is still up to my shoulders. "Yeah, it was stupid of me to say that. Thanks for threatening to kill yourself to get me to skinny dip with you, Jackson. I really appreciate it."

"It was nothing," he says. "For you, it was definitely worth it."

I'm just here with Jackson, totally alone, free from the obligations that normally haunt me. I'm not afraid or worried about anything. Nothing scares me right now. The playfulness fades away. It's replaced by something else.

I swim toward him, driven by a force that's bigger than myself.

He swims toward me too.

As I press my body to his, I breathe a sigh of relief. I can feel every bump, curve, and ridge of his muscles. My breasts flatten against him as I wrap my arms around his back. It feels just as good to be in his embrace as I imagined. My heart throbs in my chest. It's nearly out of control, and I swear I might wear it out permanently, right here and now.

Our lips press together and as they do, he takes control, hoisting me up, better aligning our bodies. My legs instinctively wrap around his hips and I pull myself toward him. I sense the hardness pressing against my butt and it takes my mind to the dirtiest places imaginable.

I kiss him with every bit of strength I can muster. I feel drunker than I have in a long time—I'm still a little drunk, but not
that
drunk—but my wits are still intact.

If my body wasn't fully submerged in water, I'm certain I'd feel a growing wetness between my thighs. My nipples could cut glass by this point. I'm literally breathing in the same breaths that Jackson is exhaling.

Our tongues are battling, our saliva is mingling. I'm totally lost.

I've forgotten why I'm doing this with him, the whole plan I discussed with Liz. I don't care about any of that. I just want Jackson more than I've ever wanted anyone in my life. The tension continues to coil throughout me, and it's relentless. I know it won't let up on its own, no way. It could easily strangle me from the inside.

Jackson abruptly breaks the kiss. "You're fucking beautiful," he says, almost snarling.

"So are you," I gasp, my voice barely above a whisper. I attack him with another kiss, running one hand along his bicep, the other planted firmly against his flexed buttocks. I hold him as his hand finds my breasts, cupping them, pressing them together with growing lust.

He tweaks my nipple and I shiver with delight, almost as if he suddenly lowered the temperature of the water by twenty degrees. But the rest of me is still hot, so hot that I'm burning up. We're still kissing somehow; I'm shocked that I haven't passed out from overstimulation.

My body is anchored to him physically, but my mind is not. And when I feel his hand start to crawl along my belly, I feel a rush of anticipation that almost makes me black out.

It feels like drowning. Good drowning.

His fingers move through the soft hair of my mound, taking their very sweet time. It's agonizing, but I keep kissing him. I give his lip a firm,
hurry-the-fuck-up-and-touch-me
sort of bite, and when his fingers reach my clit, he gets his revenge for the nibble.

The kiss breaks immediately as I moan, an intense, low sound that's unfamiliar to me. I'm so wound up I can't believe it. Every time he strokes that infinitely sensitive flesh, the nerves fire all throughout me, pleasure flooding my body. I can feel more than I've ever felt before, and his adroit fingers are pushing me beyond the limits.

He delicately circles, yet it feels like it's been intensified a hundred times over. More. And more. My legs feel rubbery and weak, yet they're still clinging to him, ensuring that he still has full access.

"God, you're so fucking sexy," he whispers in my ear. I say nothing in return since I can't seem to form any words. I can only groan, and the fact that he's listening so carefully to every intricate sound I make only makes it worse. "I'm going to make you come."

He knows he’s coaxing all of these sounds of me, and they're all
his
. He's claiming them, taking them for himself. The fact that I can feel the gentle, methodical thrust of his hips only makes the lust even worse.

And then, just like he said, I come. So fast, so hard. My eyes only open for a brief second, but when they do, I can see his concentrated expression, his eyes absorbing every bit of the orgasm that he's watching through my face. It's like I'm telling him a glorious secret.

I press up against him like our bodies are glued together, and I swear I can feel his heart beating as hard as my own. I continue crying out as he manipulates me with such delicate precision. No one has ever made me come like this before.

Not drunk. Not sober. Not
ever
.

He seems to notice as soon as the sensitivity becomes too much, and immediately his fingers retreat and his hand settles on my back. I rest my head against his shoulder, feeling like I've just finished sprinting up twenty flights of stairs carrying a backpack full of cement blocks.

"Oh, God, Jackson," I pant. I came so quickly, so effortlessly, a victim of pent up sexual frustration and his outstanding skill.

"That was so fucking incredible," he says. "You're so hot."

I blush slightly, but I feel at ease, even though I'm not used to someone paying attention to the finer details of sex like that. When I feel my strength returning, I'm reminded of the hardness beneath me as I uncoil my legs from his thighs and settle my toes back against the bottom.

A devilish smile forms on my lips. "And now I'll see what you're like."

"Huh?" Jackson asks.

An answer isn't necessary after I lower my arm into the water and take his erection between my fingers. He's big and thick, but not gargantuan. More like ideal. I stroke rapidly as low, guttural sounds begin to escape his throat.

"God, Ally," he pleads, "that feels
way
too good."

"You're gonna come for me now," I say and then tighten my grip even more which seems to drive him even crazier.

His fingers settle against my breasts as I aggressively work him down below. His expression is tightens in the same way mine probably did, his eyes locking closed, his jaw almost unhinging as he groans. Raw, unadulterated pleasure.

I pump my hand, moving faster and faster. My arm isn't worn out yet, but I know my strength won't last forever. I'm also fighting against the resistance of the water.

But then he brings me quick relief. "Fuck," he groans. His whole body presses up against me, all of his muscles tightening at once. I feel him twitch as he climaxes, my hand still maintaining that clenched, stroking rhythm. I feel him releasing into the water, his tension disappearing just as mine did a few minutes earlier.

His face is a grimace of pure ecstasy. All for me.

He cuddles close as my tempo slows, the giant that's been very quickly reduced to this compromised, hunched state against my shoulder. "Ally, seriously, that was amazing."

"It definitely seemed like you liked it," I say, smirking. "I guess I know how to beat you in the ring."

"Oh, Jesus," he whines. "I don't need to imagine that when I'm fighting."

I raise an eyebrow. "Imagining me? Or the
other guy
doing it? Is the other guy cute?"

Jackson starts laughing and pulls away. "You're nuts." He sighs deeply and plunges himself under the water again, returning to the surface just as quickly as he departed. "Now it's like we didn't cool off at all."

"I know," I say.

A brief pause fills the air. "Does this mean I'm allowed to see you naked now?" he asks hopefully, interrupting the silence.

I start giggling, a product of my state of prolonged ecstasy along with the realization that I'm skinny dipping with Jackson Ames on a whim—and we both just came in the water. I feel like a teenager more than I feel like an adult—and I really need that.

"Maybe," I say.

"Well, I'm hopeful," he says.

I press myself up against him and kiss him. "You have every reason to be."

We swim to the shore, and I get out first. When I stop to stare up at the moon, I forget that I'm standing right beside him, butt-naked. "I had a feeling your boobs were perfect," he says. "Now I know they are."

"Hey," I chide. I put my arm across my chest and cover them defensively. "The show's over," I say. He stands there utterly shameless, his cock comically swinging between his legs whenever he moves.

"Go ahead and keep looking," he says proudly after noticing what I'm looking at. "I don't even charge admission."

"I thought what I said was funny," I say.

"Well, now
the show's over
," he says, mimicking my tone of voice and covering his crotch with his hand.

I give him an evil look. "You're a total asshole—and you're great."

He smirks. "Let's go towel off before we put on our clothes. Maybe we should take a shower since we were in pond water."

"Only if you dim the lights," I say.

"I can do that," he says, smiling.

We grab our clothes from the ground and head inside. Jackson turns on the dimmest light there is in the bathroom and I reluctantly step into the shower with him. While I'm sure he's catching glances of my body when I'm not looking, he's being very respectful and we actually shower.