Free Jackson: The Sons of Dusty Walker by Randi Alexander

love. This was—
    In one slick motion, Jackson pushed his cock deep inside her
waiting canal, pumping in and out, going deeper with each forward press, faster
with each withdrawal. His fingers played along her back door, touching her anal
opening softly, pulsing, pressing.
    The combination of his thick cock inside her, his decadent
play on her rosebud back there, and his fast, loud breaths, turned her belly,
her core, into hot, needy, quivering bliss. His pumping, his balls slapping
hard against her bare pussy, sent electric currents up her spine to
short-circuit her brain. “Jackson, can’t hold on.” She wanted to come with him,
wanted them both to connect in those moments.
    “Not yet, Rori. Hold on.” He slid his hand upward along her
spine. Everywhere he touched, tingles radiated outward, pebbling her skin,
ending at her nipples where the pressure tightened her breasts.
    Rori’s arms quivered, and she fought to keep herself up,
struggled to hold back the climax that threatened to hack into her mind and
send her soaring.
    Jackson gripped her hips, moving her forward with each
withdrawal, then slamming her back against him with each pump into her. The
motion, the fullness, the feeling of his big cock reaching every hot spot inside
her filled her brain with snapping static.
    He roared and reached around her hip to her pussy and found
her clit, rubbing fast and wild as his hips worked like a jackhammer, pumping
his shaft into her faster and harder.
    She shouted a laugh as her tension broke and raced out of
her, twisting her reality and streaking like pieces of the sun through a black
velvet sky. The keening cry of her own voice echoed in her ears, combining with
his cries, his shout of, “Rori, darlin’. Oh hell, what have you done to me?”
    Rori stayed suspended, floating in silent ecstasy for long
moments until her shuddering body regained feeling, realizing she was hanging
in midair, then laid down on soft sheets, covered with sweet-smelling blankets,
and pulled tight in masculine arms.
    Without opening her eyes, she snuggled into Jackson, his
chest rising and falling quickly with his breaths, his heart thudding under her
palm, his skin moist with a musky coating of manly sweat. She loved every
second of this. Kissing him, she licked her lips, tasting the salty, spicy
perfection of him.
    “That was insane, amazing.” His voice rumbled from his chest
where her ear pressed to his hot skin.
    It was more intense than she’d ever experienced, but she’d
already blurted out far too much with this cowboy. “Mmm hmm.” A cowboy who
would be leaving town in a few days. The thought set her stomach aching in a
hollow sorrow. There could never be anything between them. In her mind she knew
that for a fact. But her heart beat out a different message.
    Brushing back her hair from her face, he tipped his head and
looked at her. “That’s all you got to say?”
    “I wouldn’t know where to start.” And she didn’t want to
make a blubbery fool of herself by worshiping at the feet of this sex god.
    He laughed. “You usually start with, ‘First…’”
    A smile curled her lips. “First…let me close my eyes for ten
minutes and see if I have any strength left to talk.”
    He kissed her forehead, reached for the lamp, and shut it
off. “Fair enough.”
    Rori didn’t know how long she slept, but her phone’s ringing
woke her. She lay in the same spot, but now half her body rested on top of
Jackson’s, her head on his chest.
    His chest rose as he yawned. “You need to get that?”
    Her mind wouldn’t quite connect… “Kiwi.” She sat up,
listening for the location of her phone in the pocket of her jeans.
    Stroking her back, he cleared his throat. “Like the fruit?”
He turned on the lamp.
    She slid out of bed and located her jeans, pulling out her
phone just as it stopped ringing. “No. Like the hacker.” Turning her head to
face Jackson, she smiled at him, then took a glance down his long torso,