Puck The Halls | Jack Hughes

TWENTY SEVEN

I DON'T KNOW WHAT I EXPECTED SEX WITH JACK TO BE LIKE, but it wasn't this. He tosses me on the bed, his smile big and loving and contagious. A squeal slips past my lips as my body lands on the mattress, a string of giggles bubbling from my stomach as he flops over me, hair falling into his eyes as a breathy laugh of his own nearly makes me faint.

I stare up at him, reminded once again of how undeniably gorgeous he is. My hands subconsciously reach out to grip his cheeks, fingertips dancing on the skin of his jawline.

"You're so pretty," I tell him, and I mean it. From the blue of his eyes to the faint freckles peppering his nose and cheeks that you can only see up this close. The way his nose sits so perfectly and his lips pull ever so slightly to the left.

He rolls his eyes. "Oh, fuck off."

"No," I giggle, forcing his gaze back to me. "You're pretty, stupidly pretty. Am I not allowed to call you that?"

He scrunches his nose at my words, shaking his head as if he still doesn't agree with me, but he'll allow it. "No girl has ever called me pretty before."

I cock my head. "Does handsome work better for you?"

He scoffs.

"No?" I smile, quirking an eyebrow. "What about sexy? Gorgeous? Beautif—"

Jack clamps a hand over my mouth, smiling so big I have to hold my breath. "What about just yours?"

He gives me a moment for the words to sink in, pulling his hand away from my mouth, staring at me like his entire world has just been handed to me and I held the power to make or break him. He blinks at me expectantly, while I stare back at him with wide eyes, my heart beating out of my chest.

"Mine?" I whisper, breathless and barely audible.

He nods, eyes hooded and focused on my lips as he lowers his head to reach mine, foreheads pressed together. "Yeah, yours."

"Does that make me yours?" I ask, feeling somewhat nervous as the question tumbles from my lips.

Jack grins, pressing a quick kiss to my lower lip. He lines his hips up with mine, pushing into me slowly, gently, now with a condom wrapped around him that he'd pulled from his wallet. I wanted to ask why he brought it with him, if he'd expected that this would happen for if he'd just hoped it would. Instead, o just sent him a single raised eyebrow and a smirk, to which he responded with a furious blush.

"I've told you before Miracle," he breathes, lips parted, breathing life into me. "You've always been mine."

As I said, I didn't expect sex with Jack to be like this. I expected up against the wall, harsh thrusting, angry growls and bruising all over me. Part of me hopes that if we ever get the chance to do this again that he does bruise me, because, what a privilege.

What I never had expected was fingers laced together, breathless moans, the deepest love I'd ever felt. Featherlike touch and heated kisses and I love you's over and over again. Jack wasn't fucking me, Jack was making love to me.

He flips us over effortlessly, like I weigh nothing, and places me on top, a gasp slips through my lips as I feel his erection in new places, filling me up completely. He brushes my hair over one shoulder, kissing the other, trailing his tongue over my skin slowly. I giggle at the feeling, tangling my hands in his hair and pulling.

Jack tips his head back, groaning lowly and making me feel like I could come for him all over again.

"I want to do this forever," he breathes, sucking on my bare collarbone before pressing a chaste kiss on the place he'd marked me. "To love you, make you feel good."