by Roxie Noir
“It’s a good night for stars,” he says.
Then he grins and winks down at me. We both bundle up, because it’s about twenty degrees outside.
“I can’t wait to hear about all the constellations you know,” I tease him. “I think you should tell me about every single one.”
“You can stay here if you’re gonna make fun of me,” he says, but he’s smiling.
It’s freezing, but he was right. It is a good night for stars, and they’re stretched across the sky like they’re painted on the inside of a dome. Once we’re away from the house, we stand close together for a moment and look up at them.
“More than New York?” he asks.
“It reminds me of West Texas,” I say. “This is one thing I miss.”
“Anything else?”
“Tacos,” I say.
We walk for another minute, and his trailer suddenly appears from nowhere. The dark out here is deep enough to lose yourself in.
“I was hoping I’d get to see the jizz trailer,” I say.
“You won’t if you keep calling it that,” he says.
When we reach it, I open the door and hold it for him as he maneuvers up the steps and inside. He flips on the lights and then cranks the thermostat.
“Here we are,” he says, looking around, his breath still frosting in the air. “Home sweet home.”
I look around. I’ve seen it in pictures and on video, so it looks familiar, but it’s strange to be here. Jackson leans against the kitchen counter, takes off his crutches and his gloves, and then pulls me against him and kisses me hard.
I get my own gloves off, slide my fingers through his hair and kiss him back. His face is a little cold but his mouth is warm and needy, and I press myself against him, that ever-present hunger yawning inside me.
After a long time he pulls back, then reaches for his crutches and I take a step back.
“Stay there for a minute,” he says, and goes down a short hallway and through a door that he shuts behind himself.
I swallow. My entire insides have already turned into one warm, hollow ache, and I don’t even know what he’s got in the bedroom back there.
I walk to the kitchen table and look at it for a moment, then sit down. I’m pretty sure this is the view I get when we video chat, because it suddenly looks very familiar.
Even though I know I shouldn’t, I glance up at the ceiling. There’s a small, off-white spot right above the table.
Gross, I think, but I’m also laughing to myself.
Then the door to the bedroom opens, and Jackson leans against the doorframe.
“C’mere,” he says.
I recognize his bedroom, too, because I’ve spent a lot of hours talking to Jackson while we’re both curled on our sides in our beds, him in front of a window and ugly wood paneling.
Except now, both the window sills and the dresser are covered with thick white candles and the room is flickering with their glow. The blinds are open to the dark outside. There are two space heaters going full blast on the floor, and it looks like the bed has about twenty blankets on it. Somewhere, there’s speakers quietly playing a song I don’t recognize.
He shuts the door.
“Keeps the heat in,” he says.
He touches my face with one hand and just looks at me for a long moment. It feels good just to be here where no one else is listening in or in the next room or doing dishes in my apartment. It’s nearly quiet and nearly dark and we are finally, finally alone together.
“I missed you,” he murmurs.
“I missed you too,” I whisper.
Jackson kisses me again. It’s soft at first, gentle and romantic, but I can’t help myself. Not now. I wind my fingers through his hair and pull his mouth against mine. He swipes his tongue against my lips and curls his tongue into my mouth, against mine. I feel like my body is melting from the inside out, like I’m a nuclear reactor that’s overheated.
We’re both still wearing winter coats, but I can feel his erection against my stomach. I bite his bottom lip as he pulls back, and he groans, then grabs the front of my thick black pea coat, pulling at the buttons. He gets most of them undone, but there’s more buttons on the inside and also a zipper, and he looks at it and frowns.
I laugh and take a step back as I get it off and toss it on the floor, then unwind my scarf and let that fall. I find the zipper on Jackson’s heavy rancher’s coat and pull it down. He’s wearing a sweater beneath it but I just slide my hands under it and run my hands up his torso. The muscles aren’t as thick as they were, but he’s been in a wheelchair for six weeks, and I can still feel them flexing under the skin.
Jackson laughs.
“What?” I murmur.
“Your hands are cold,” he says.
“So warm them up,” I say, and push his shirt and sweater off over his head, and then Jackson grabs me by the hips and pushes me against the wall, the bare muscles in his arms flexing hard. I half raise my eyebrows as my back hits the wood paneling.
“What?” he growls. He leans on the dresser to step forward and then his body’s against mine, his skin hot under my hands.
“I thought I might have to be gentle with you,” I murmur.
He grins and puts one forearm on the wall over my head, leaning down.
“Not that gentle, Lula-Mae,” he says, and kisses me hard again. I’m pinned against the wall and I grab his pants by the waistband and pull him harder against me, and he groans into my mouth. I think I can feel his erection throbbing through two layers of clothing.
Jackson pulls back just enough to get my sweater off of me, then kisses me again, his lips moving to my neck. He takes off my long-sleeved shirt and reveals a tank top, and then laughs, bending down just enough to nip at my collarbone.
“This is like a morphine dream I had,” he murmurs, his lips brushing my skin, his voice sending shivers through my body.
“Was it twenty degrees outside in your dream, too?” I ask. My eyes are closed and my head’s turned to one side, my arm slung around his shoulders.
“I don’t know, but I dreamed that you kept taking your clothes off, only there were always more clothes underneath,” he says.
I pull my tank top off over my head and unhook my bra and before I even get it off his rough fingers are on my breasts, the pads of his thumb circling my nipples.
“Not a dream,” I say, and move my hips against him. I desperately want to wrap my legs around him, for him to push me against the wall and hold me there, but I’m pretty sure the cast on his leg is gonna keep that from happening.
I settle for sliding my palm down the length of his erection, outside his jeans, and watching the hungry light in his eyes.
“For the record, I really want to pick you up and throw you on the bed,” he says. His face is against mine and his voice is low and rough, enough to send tingles through my whole body. “But I’ve gotta settle for hobbling over.”
I laugh and undo his belt and unbutton his jeans. Then I kiss him as I unzip them down the whole length of his erection until he’s growling again, and he undoes my jeans and slides a hand inside, his fingers circling my clit.
I gasp and arch my back, fighting the urge to jump onto him. He kisses me harder and moves his fingers along my slit, teasing me. I moan into his mouth and he pushes one finger just barely between my lips.
“I’m never gonna get tired of how wet you are for me,” he says. “Even the very first time we did this.”
“That was alcohol and enthusiasm,” I say. I move my hips against his hand, trying to get him to go deeper, but it’s not working. “Now I’m wet because I know what comes next.”
He pulls his hand out and puts his fingers in his mouth, licking them off.
“I fucking missed the way you taste,” he murmurs.
“Jackson,” I say, swallowing hard, “If you don’t hobble to the bed right now, I can’t be held accountable for what happens next.”
“What’s that, Lula-Mae?” he says.
“That’s I wrap my legs around you right now and we both go over, because you’ve still got one leg in a cast,” I say. “I’ve only got so much self-control, Jackson, especially with you.”
He kisses me, then grabs a crutch from where it’s leaning against the wall and hobbles to the bed and sits. He holds his right leg awkwardly straight as he pushes his jeans down.
“Don’t watch,” he laughs. “There’s sexier things that getting pants off over a cast.”
I walk over, kneel on the floor in front of him and help pull his jeans off. Underneath he’s got a cast over his lower leg and a metal brace on his knee. Higher up, by his hip, there’s a thick pink scar a few inches long where he had surgery, and I run my fingers over it as I press my lips gently to his knee.
He exhales softly and put his hand on my head, stroking my hair.
“Thanks,” he says, quietly. “I know all the hardware probably didn’t feature in your fantasies.”
“I’m actually a little disappointed,” I say, pressing my lips to the top of his thigh. “All my research on having sex in wheelchairs went to waste.”
I wrap my hand around the base of his cock and Jackson exhales, hard.
“What did your research say?” he asks. He’s still got his hand on my head, and he’s leaning back on the other one.
“Mostly to make sure you set the brakes,” I say, and stroke his cock once, slowly.
Jackson groans, and the sound sends a river of heat coursing through me. I lick the head of his cock and then slide my mouth over it, and I meant to go slow but before I know it he’s hit the back of my mouth and I’m sliding my lips back along the shaft and Jackson’s breathing hard.
I look up at him, the tip still in my mouth, and I swirl my tongue around it.
“I fucking love watching this,” he says, and I push my lips back down and listen to him moan, sucking him and swirling my tongue around the tip.
He stiffens even more in my mouth. I think my juices are starting to run down the inside of my thigh, I’m so turned on, but I ignore it and keep going.
Finally he grabs me gently but firmly by the hair and pulls me off.
“I’m gonna come if you don’t stop,” he gasps, and lets me go.
I stand and kiss him, pushing my tongue into his mouth and he kisses me back ravenously.
“You like it when I taste like your cock,” I say.
“I like it when you taste like me,” he says, and then pushes me onto the bed and pulls himself further on until he’s alongside me.
Very gently, I put one leg over him, and he grabs my thigh and pulls me against him.
“I’m harder to break than you think,” he growls. “You’re not gonna do anything a bull didn’t.”
“I bet I am,” I say.
Jackson chuckles, then rolls over onto his back and pulls me with him, and suddenly I’m straddling him on my hands and knees and he’s grinning.
“Yeah, I never made a bull sit on my face so I could eat it out,” he says.
Then he pushes me forward. I yelp but then his face is between my thighs, and I swear he’s still laughing as he loops his arms around my thighs and pulls me down onto him. There’s no bed frame, but I put both hands on the wood-paneled wall as he starts licking me urgently, and I moan.
He squeezes my thighs in response and doesn’t stop, not for a second. I’m so worked up that I already feel like I’m close to exploding, and Jackson knows exactly what he’s doing with his tongue.
“God, I missed you,” I half-whisper, half-moan.
He flicks his tongue across my clit a little faster, and my toes curl.
“Fuck, that feels good, Jackson,” I say. It’s taking everything I’ve got to hold still, more or less, and not just rub myself on his face.
He keeps going, and god it’s been a long time since he did this, and somehow it's even better than I remembered, the tight knot of white heat inside me quickly expanding and unraveling. I’m losing control fast, my breathing ragged, and he suddenly stops licking my clit and moves his tongue lower, pushing it between my lips and just barely inside me.
I gasp and it turns into a groan as his tongue moves, and then he’s licking my clit again, furiously.
“Jackson,” I gasp, “I’m gonna come if you don’t—”
He licks harder and my words just turn into a moan. His hands tighten again, making sure I stay exactly where I am, and then the ball of white heat inside me just explodes.
I think I just shout as my whole body tenses and then releases, my fingers curling against the wood paneling.
“Jesus, Jackson,” I manage to whisper. Another wave bursts through me and I hear myself moan again, panting for breath.
Jackson keeps going, even as my hands unclench. It sends jolts through my whole body, and I reach down and run a hand through his hair.
“I came, you can stop,” I say, breathlessly.
He looks at me. I’m pretty sure he’s laughing, and he takes one hand off my thigh.
“Do I have to?” he asks, his voice vibrating through me. He’s still holding me firmly in place with his other hand.
I swallow.
“No,” I say.
Suddenly he slides his fingers along my slit and then inside me, and I gasp.
“Good,” he says.
He circles my clit once with his tongue, moving his fingers inside me against that perfect spot that makes my back arch.
“I’ve had to watch you come enough on a screen,” he says.
His tongue circles my clit again, twice, his fingers stroking my inner wall.
“I think I’ve earned watching you come in person a couple times,” Jackson growls, and then he moves his fingers and tongue together.
He starts out slow and lazy. For a minute I wonder if he’s just teasing me, getting me worked up again, but then the slow, bright heat is building inside me again and I feel even more helpless against it than before.
“Make me come again, Jackson,” I whisper, and his tongue moves faster and harder. He starts flicking it right across my clit and my whole body jerks, and I gasp and laugh all at once.
I swear I can feel him smile against me.
“I could sit on your face all day,” I murmur.
His tongue moves faster and I groan, burying my face in my upper arm. I feel like a rubber band that’s about to snap
Then he puts his lips around my clit and sucks gently.
I shatter, all of a sudden, and just shout “Oh fuck!”
My body feels like it’s unraveling, like I’m totally losing control, shouting and gasping and moaning, and I’m almost certain than Jackson’s just laughing but he keeps going until my whole body jerks with every lick, and then he finally lets me go.
I roll off to one side, still breathing hard, and slump with my back against the wall, my shins by Jackson’s head, because I don’t trust myself to move just yet.
Jackson grabs my ankle, next to his head, and grins up at me. His cock is standing straight up, thick and long, so swollen it’s almost shiny. I swallow, still trying to catch my breath.
He kisses me on the leg, then puts one hand on his cock and strokes it slowly, his hips just barely moving in time with his hand. I don’t know why, but watching him touch himself drives me crazy, every single time.
“You’re gonna have to come down here,” he says. “I’m an invalid.”
Then he pulls my ankle and slides me halfway down the bed until I’m nearly level with him.
Invalid my ass.
He rolls over onto his side and kisses me. I can taste myself on him, almost like I’ve marked him as mine, and it’s sexy as hell. I take his shaft in my hand, still kissing him deeply, and he pinches one nipple between his fingers, just hard enough to make me moan softly.
He chuckles and bites my shoulder.
“You’re a bottomless pit,” he says.
“That’s not true,” I say.
“You said it, not me,” he murmurs, his lips against my skin as
I stroke his cock with one hand. “Don’t blame me, I make you come as much as I can.”
He kisses my shoulder.
“A man can only do so much, Lula-Mae,” he teases.
“It’s just you I can’t get enough of,” I murmur.
“So you’re my bottomless pit,” he says, tracing his fingers down to my hip.
“Right,” I say. “This is all your fault, Jackson.”
He pushes me onto my left side and then pulls me to him. I let go of his cock and feel it press against my lower back.
“I’m not sorry,” he murmurs in my ear.
I put my hand on his hip behind me, my palm over the new scar.
“I don’t want you to be sorry,” I say.
He moves his erection until it’s right at my entrance, and I can feel myself throbbing again.
I twist around and put one arm behind his neck.
“I just want you inside me already,” I whisper.
He enters me up to the hilt in one stroke, and I moan.
“I’ll never get tired of hearing you say that,” he growls in my ear. “I fucking love it when you’re dirty, Lula-Mae.”
I just push back against him, like I’m trying to get him as deep as I can, and he grabs my hips and pulls me back so hard I just grunt.
“You like it when I hit that spot?” he says in my ear. “The one that makes you make that noise?”
“Yes,” I whisper, and rock my hips forward, sliding him out a little, and he pulls me back into him again, hard, and I make the noise again.
“I fucking missed that noise,” he says, and he keeps going, fucking me hard and deep. “I missed how right everything feels when I’m inside you.”
I reach behind myself, arching my back, and I grab his shoulder just because I want to hold onto him.
“I need you,” I murmur. “Jackson, I need this, and I need you, and I thought I was going to lose my mind.”
He pulls me back against him again, hard, and my toes curl as it feels like my whole body lights up.
“Please,” I murmur.
He does it again, and again. He growls in my ear and I gasp as he hits that spot.
“Think you can come one more time?” he asks.
“If you keep doing that,” I say.
My vision is starting to blur around the edges and I feel like a slow reaction is taking place, something slowly expanding that’s going to burst soon and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
