Chapter Twenty-Nine
Jackson
“Fuck!” I curse, grumbling under my breath, as I push away from my desk.
Walking over to Morris’s office. I wrap my knuckles against the wooden door and wait for him to motion for me to come inside.
At his signal, I opened the door and stepped inside. “Hey, uh, Boss, do you have a minute?” I asked hesitantly.
“Sure Jackson, what’s on your mind? Did you get a hold of everyone that you needed to call?” He asks, motioning for me to have a seat in a chair in front of his desk.
Ignoring the offer, I remain standing, lifting my hand to the back of my neck in a nervous tic that all of us Jones kids seem to share and blurt, “Almost, but I haven’t been able to reach my girl and I’m beginning to really get worried about her.”
“Why? What’s going on to make you worry? Is it because of…” he doesn’t finish his sentence but he doesn’t have to.
“In part,” I say but then continue. “But she’s also pregnant and—“
“Congratulations,” Morris interrupts, his eyes twinkling with happiness at the news.
“Thanks, but she has a history of miscarriage and I’m worried that there’s something wrong.”
Morris nods in understanding before saying, “Then go, check on your girl and make sure that she’s okay. Call me if anything is wrong and you need time off. You could use it after not using any sick or personal time the entire time you’ve been here.”
“I will,” I tell him with a nod, grateful for his understanding. Turning to leave, I look back at him and throw over my shoulder, “Thank you.”
“No thanks needed. Now get out of here.” And with that, I leave his office, grab my badge and sidearm out of my desk, and quickly make my way to the stairs, not wanting to get held up by anyone wanting to ask questions or have a conversation.
Jody is manning the desk when I get downstairs and with a smile on her face, she asks, “Actually ducking out early for once?”
“Yeah,” I respond, not willing to delve in deeper and explain why. “Have a good evening and take care.”
“You, too. Go take care of that girl of yours,” she orders, her smile broadening even further.
“I plan to,” I tell her with my back to the door, pushing it open.
The entire way home, I’m looking for the silver Accord that the perp was driving, so beyond ready to put an end to his reign of terror and destruction.
I pull into the complex parking lot at a speed far faster than is safe, somehow managing to pop the curb, leaving my front right tire up on the sidewalk.
Not caring enough to fix it, I bolt from the cab of my jeep, slamming the door shut behind me and race up the steps towards the second floor.
I momentarily debate on whether I should check Chastity’s place first but decide against it,
My place is closer.
I’ll check Chastity’s if she’s not at my place.
Finding the door locked, I scramble for the keys in my pocket, my mind reeling with different scenarios of what could have happened but when I get the door open, the whole place is quiet, there’s no blood anywhere, there’s not any furniture toppled or out of place.
Quietly, I clear each room, making it to my bedroom last.
When I open the door, I stop in my tracks, relief settling over my entire body as I find Brooklyn lying in the bed, fast asleep.
Quietly, I close the distance and gently climb into the bed beside her, trying not to disturb her but either she’s a much lighter sleeper than I realized or I jostled the bed more than I’d realized, but she murmurs a sleepy, “Jackson?” while squinting at me through only one open eye.
“It’s me, Baby,” I affirm, reaching out and cupping her cheek, my thumb smoothing over the soft skin, likely soothing more than it is her, as I continue, my words little more than a whisper as I say, “I—I panicked. I couldn’t reach you and I was worried something was wrong.”
“Mm..” she makes a sound in the back of her throat in acknowledgment, then mutters, “Migraine. Nothing was helping.”
I move to pull her in my arms but she shakes her head back and forth, then groans, “My head hurts too bad for sex.”
“I just want to hold you,” I explain, trying again to pull her into my arms. “That’s it. I promise.”
Thankfully, this time she lets me.
And for the first time, since I saw the perpetrator's face on my computer screen, illuminated by the streetlights, I feel myself beginning to relax.
At some point, I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I know, Brooklyn removing my arms from around her, pulls me from sleep.
“Everything okay?” I ask, reaching out and grasping hold of her hand, halting her as sleep still heavily fogs my mind.
“Yeah,” Brooklyn whispers into the dark space between us. “Just need to go pee.”
Nodding, I release her and watch her slink through the darkness of my room and then out the door.
My eyelids are too heavy to keep open and soon, I’m drifting in that place between sleep and wakefulness when I feel Brooklyn rubbing her hand up and down my cock through my jeans, waking both me and my limp dick up with the action.
“Brooklyn,” I groan when she undoes my zipper, pulling me from the confines of my jeans. The feel of her hands on me is like nothing I’ve felt with anyone else.
She strokes me, my eyes closing in ecstasy as I buck my hips up off the bed, increasing the pressure and pleasure but she takes control of the moment when she wraps her lips around my cock, her tongue lapping at my slit.
“Fuck,” I groan, the word guttural and full of my need for her as she swallows me whole. “So. Fucking. Good.” I enunciate each word with a thrust of my hips, my head hitting the back of her throat with the last thrust, but instead of gagging as I’d expected, she swallows me down, taking me deeper.
One of her hands cups my balls, fondling them before moving lower, rubbing the stretch of skin between my balls and ass, making my balls draw up, on the cusp of completely coming undone.
A finger begins rubbing my asshole and I begin to shake, the pleasure almost too much to bear, and when she slips it inside, curling it just right, I’m done for.
“Oh, fuck! In cuming,” I growl seconds before I shoot off like a geyser in her mouth.
She takes it all, swallowing my cum like it’s her absolute favorite flavor, and when I’m spent, every last bit of cum drained from my balls, she licks my cock like an ice cream cone, lapping up anything that she could have possibly missed, not leaving an inch of me untouched.
She pulls off my cock and sucks my balls into her mouth one at a time, my spent cock straining to hold on as she keeps me hard with her actions, almost desperate to cum again and how that’s even possible, I have no clue.
I’m breathless and writhing on the bed when she moves even lower, her tongue teasing as it moves lower and lower until it’s tickling my asshole, her warm hand wrapping around my cock and pumping me in time with each stroke of her tongue.
“Oh, fuck! Brooklyn, Baby, I—I can’t,” but she proved me wrong as she continues licking and pumping me, and moments later, I’m cuming once again, and holy fuck, I swear that I leave my body, death by orgasm, that’s the way I go, I swear.
But then I come back down, and she’s got a devious little smile on her face as she crawls up my body and takes my mouth in a kiss that tells me *everything* that I know she’s still too scared to say.
And that’s okay.
I don’t need her words.
She shows me that she loves me with her actions.
With the way she loves me.
“I fucking love you,” I tell her, unable to hold it in any longer as I reach for her pussy, wanting to return the favor. “So much.”
She freezes for just a second and then kisses me again as she reaches down, grasping hold of my hand and placing it against her lower back.
I move it down to squeeze her ass but she breaks the kiss with a shake of her head, uttering, “Just hold me.”
She snuggles up against me, not making a big deal out of my confession, and that’s such a big thing.
She didn’t freak out, just showed her love through her actions.
And I can’t help but think about how fucking lucky I am as I doze off, the woman that I love snoring softly in my arms.
And that, that’s all that I need.
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