Firecracker

Dirty Girl

As we step out of the front door into the cool spring night, I take in the sight of the bustling quayside. Cock&Tails sits smack bang in the middle of the row of restaurants and bars that make up the ground floor of an old, converted sugar warehouse that dominates West India Quay. At one end is a cool museum that tells the story of the docks and London’s maritime history; a place where I have spent a fair few hours soaking up the history of the place I now call ‘home’. The upper floors of the warehouse have been converted into luxury apartments, one of which I share with Finn and where I am currently having an internal debate about taking Jackson back to.

I very rarely take men back to my place, but I’m super horny which seems to be negating all common sense. Grabbing Jackson’s hand, I slide my fingers through his, feeling gratified when I hear his breath hitch in a brief moment of stillness. At least he seems to be as affected as I am by whatever this is. The entrance to the apartments appears in front of me and I nod at the double doors. “This is me. Do you want to come up?”

“Hell yes,” Jackson responds with a throaty growl. “As long as you’re sure you want this?”

“Definitely,” I say, a little surprised by the tremor I hear in my tone. Jackson raises an eyebrow at me as if to double-check, and I can’t help myself as I reach up to grab the back of his neck and pull his head down to mine. The kiss is fierce and passionate, a class of teeth, while I thread my fingers thread through his inky black hair. Jackson’s hands knead my backside through my tight jeans as he tugs me into his hips and grinds his erection against my pelvis. He lets out a low moan before pulling gently away from me.

I stare into Jackson’s eyes for what feels like millennia, taking note of how their colour appears to be more aquamarine than I had thought, with flecks of indigo that darken further in his aroused state. “Come on,” I say quietly, before taking his hand to lead him through the maze of corridors to get to my front door.

I step through the entry, flicking on the bank of lights, smirking to myself when Jackson lets out a soft whistle. “Wow, this place is something,” he says, awe in his voice. I am so used to my surroundings that it often takes a fresh pair of eyes to remind me how special my home is. The main living space is largely open plan and light during the day thanks to the skylights in the ceiling and the doors that lead out to a small balcony overlooking the quayside and across to Canary Wharf. The internal partition walls are painted white, but the main features of the place are the exposed brick walls and the original oak beams and floorboards. Finn and I are both minimalists so have kept the furniture simple and comfortable. The appearance of the place sometimes comes across as a little stark, but we love it.

“Yeah, I know,” I say with a soft smile and, in that instant, Jackson’s attention is drawn away from his surroundings and instead is focused entirely on me. As I look up at him, taking note for the first time of our height difference, I see his pulse jumping in his neck. His breathing has become ragged and his pupils dilate as he runs his eyes over my body. “Bedroom?” Jackson asks softly.

I point towards the door nearest us, and within moments Jackson is manoeuvring both of us through it and then kicking it closed behind us. Jackson lifts me off my feet, spinning me so that my back is now against the door before I wrap my legs around his waist. He crashes his lips down onto mine, heat searing through me while my pulse races, a raging fire building in my core.

As Jackson holds me up with one arm, the other loops around my neck, securing me in his hold. He finds my hairband and tugs it out so that my wavy blonde hair falls down my back. “Better,” he murmurs, tangling his fingers through the tresses and using them as leverage to pull my head backwards so that he can gain access to my throat. I am lost in a whirl of sensations as he nips at my exposed neck, working his way from my earlobe down into the dip at the base of my throat. I groan in appreciation, a deep guttural sound that lets Jackson know just how turned on I am.

My top is a silky black tank that offers a minimal barrier as Jackson’s teeth find one of my n*****s. I gasp as he bites down hard, the jolt shooting down in my throbbing p***y. I need to touch Jackson’s skin so slide my hands underneath the hem of his shirt. His muscles ripple under my touch, making me eager to see him as well. My fingers work nimbly, and moments later Jackson’s shirt is hanging open, exposing his well-formed abs and the soft smattering of dark curls on his chest.

Slowly, I start to trace my tongue over Jackson’s skin, working my way across his pecs and leaving a trail of goosebumps in my wake until I take one of his n*****s in my mouth and, mirroring his earlier actions, bite down on it gently. Jackson lets out a hiss and a moment later he is tugging my head back, crashing his lips onto mine. I want more, though, so I pull back and break off the kiss, wiggling my body so that I can manoeuvre myself out of Jackson’s arms.

Turning the aggressor, I spin Jackson so that now his back is against the door. I work my fingers at the button fly of Jackson’s jeans, and when, at last, I have them undone, I push them down only to find that Jackson has gone commando. I raise my eyebrows at him questioningly and am rewarded with a sly smirk. Ah, so it’s like that, is it? I think to myself. Sinking onto my knees, I take a breath before reaching forward and grasping Jackson’s length in my hands. As I run my fingers over the smooth skin of his c**k, I marvel as it twitches and responds to my caresses. I take my time teasing the end, before slowly taking him in my mouth. Pumping the base of his c**k firmly, I use my tongue to trace the veins along his length, teasing and taunting as I listen to his grunts of satisfaction until his precum leaks into my mouth. Glancing up, I find Jackson watching me with intensity burning in his eyes, something gets me squirming under his gaze. I take his rigid length deep into my mouth, hollowing my cheeks as I suck him with ferocity, urging Jackson towards his orgasm. A guttural groan escapes Jackson’s mouth and then he is threading his fingers through my hair, tugging to let me know that he is back in control. Slowly, he starts to pump into my mouth, and I have to grip the back of his thighs to maintain my balance. Muscles ripple underneath my fingers as Jackson’s c**k begins to twitch in my mouth, letting me know that he is not far off.

“Kat,” Jackson growls out, giving me the option to pull away if I want to. But I am too far gone and want to feel Jackson come in my mouth. Moments later Jackson’s seed slides down my throat. I give him a final couple of pumps before releasing his c**k with an audible pop. “You are a dirty, dirty girl, Kat,” Jackson laughs, pulling me to my feet before planting a soft kiss on my lips.