Puck The Halls | Jack Hughes

TWENTY SIX

I ADMIT THAT WHEN I FIRST OFFERED TO SUCK JACK'S dick, I wasn't exactly thinking it through properly. Sure, the idea of having his cock in my mouth had been a thought that passed through my mind countless times as of late, and sure, I wanted to make him come, to make him feel the way he had made me feel. But now, staring up at him, my fingers gripping the waist band of his black boxers, which are Calvin Kleins, I'm sort of terrified.

What if I didn't do a very good job? What if I absolutely sucked at it—pun fully intended. What if I can't make him come for me? My heart is pounding and my chest feels tight and I suddenly want to scream, to run, my fight or flight kicking in a moment of panic.

He grabs my hands, successfully stopping me from sliding his boxers down over his thighs, which are sculpted by the fucking Grecian Gods, by the way.

"Miracle," he whispers, forcing me to look up at him. "You don't have to do this."

I frowned, because I wanted to, I wanted to so badly it haunted me for an entire week straight once. "I-I want to, I'm just . . . Scared?"

It sounded like more of a question, because I didn't really know how to bundle all of things I was feeling into a neat little bow and make them into a word capable of understanding.

"I know," he breathes, running a hand through my hair. "I am too, so let's just kiss sweetheart, we can kiss all night, I don't mind."

My frown somehow deepens because, he can't be serious? I yank the hair tie that held my locks in a ponytail earlier from my wrist, gathering my hair and throwing it in a messy bun at the back of my head, fully missing multiple strands at the front. Jack's eyes light up, he knows what I'm doing, and his erection once again hardens to its full potential.

And, because I'm a bit of a people pleaser, I get this insatiable feeling that I can't let him down. So, I grip at the waist band of his Calvin's once again, an I pull them down over his hips, over his thighs, until they're at the floor by his ankles, the same way my dress has been. Jack is left in nothing but a white button down shirt, but it's fully unbuttoned, and a pair of socks, which is sort of ridiculous, because he's got his cock staring me right in the face—big and intimidating and perfect.

I wasn't out here to be weird, but Jack Hughes had a ridiculously pretty dick. It was perfectly shaped, just thick enough to not be horrifying, but I already knew it would fill me better than three of his fingers ever would. It was pink at the tip and perfectly covered in veins and I don't know why I'm surprised—it's Jack, everything about him is pretty, of course, he'd have a perfect dick.

"What is it, Miracle?" He husks, sounding way too nervous for his own good. He's standing above me, because I totally dropped to my knees the moment he'd put the idea out there, legs shoulder width apart, hands tangled in my hair and head tipped back as his throat bobbed.

"N-nothing," I whisper, staring openly at his erection, wondering what the hell it'll feel like inside me. I reach a cautious hand out, wrapping my fingers around the base of it, my thumb brushing the tip. Jack hisses, eyes darting down to me, his mouth dropping open. I smirk up at him, proud because, I just did that.

I let to for the faintest moment, readjusting my position of my knees, then reach out for him again, this time, my fingers brush the tip of him slightly, barely there, so I'm surprised when Jack's breath hitches.

Smirking, I sit back in my knees. "Okay, I hardly touched you that time."

"I know," Jack growled, gritting his teeth as he avoided eye contact with me, blushing furiously that he'd even reacted like that to someone touching him. "Just, stop teasing me, Miracle, I'm going insane."