Anna and Jackson Read online

  Seven parish rotation?

  What the fuck?!

  Great, the village stick had fingered me out in public! How fucking embarrassing was that? But it was my own fault. I realized that back when I had spied on him when I was sixteen, he wasn’t going to settle on just one female. No one would tame Jackson. I knew the rumors about him were true. I guess I thought he’d grown out of his man-whoring ways.

  A Slow Burn: Chapter 5

  She never brought his plate. It was because of all the women crowding around him trying to shove their food into his mouth. This had gotten in the way of his plans with Anna. When Tina Wheeler had started talking, he knew the other woman was out spreading her joy, and he knew exactly what Tina had said to Annabelle. He saw in detail how Anna’s eyes had widened and her bee-stung lips had thinned with anger. He’d wanted to go and put a stop to all the rumors. But they weren’t rumors; they were true. None of that mattered now though. That was last week and this was now.

  When a man found the right woman, it was time to set aside boyish things. He didn’t have the greatest track record, but he was honest. He hadn’t made promises to any of those women. So it really wasn’t his problem anymore. They’d all just have to find another willing male.

  Nice going, asshole.

  He knew he wasn’t going to win an award for his past behavior, but he would do something about it.

  Jackson watched as Annabelle turned and began walking towards the lake. Now was his chance to convince her he was serious.

  * * *

  The moist grass between my toes felt good. City folks would call this mud, but me, I called it heaven. If I were six years younger, I’d be lying down in it, not caring that my mom would take a switch to my hide for getting my clothes all dirty. The mud reminded me of home and it was my way of dealing with my feelings. The festival was still in full swing and the lightning bugs were starting their twilight dance. There’s plenty of light, but if I looked past the river, the blue line of darkness was making its ascent to blanket the sky.

  Funny thing about Beauville, it’s different from other towns, and I’ve always known that to be true. We reside in a bubble, some of us have more air than the next, but I feel safe here. This feels real. I’m glad I lost my job. It brought me home.

  “Because I’m happy, clap along if you feel like a room without a roof.” My phone was going off, and I quickly pulled it out of my dress pocket and answered it before the second verse started.

  “Hello?”

  “Miss Macon, this is Harper Willis with Stage One.”

  Holy shit! Stage One was one of the biggest travel magazines in New York!

  “Yes, Mr. Willis, this is Miss Macon. How can I help you?”

  “We’d like for you to come in after the holidays and meet with myself and one other member on the board. We’d like to hire you.”

  “Me?” I squeaked. I tried to clear my voice. I needed to sound calmer.

  “Yes, I hear you’re no longer employed, and we didn’t want to miss the opportunity to work with one of the best.”

  One of the best, was I dreaming? I had to be.

  “Yes of course, sir. How about next Monday?”

  Please say that’s okay. Please say that’s okay. I pleaded internally.

  “That’s fine, nine in the morning sound good?”

  YES! Inside I was jumping up and down.

  “Yes, thank you. See you next Monday.” I quickly disconnected the call, smiling wide. Finally, things were starting to look up.

  Strong arms embraced me from behind and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to know it was Jackson. My body immediately warmed at his touch, I was attuned to him, even when I was angry with him.

  “I know why you’re standing out here, Annabelle.”

  “Well it ain’t for my health, Jackson,” I shot back, giving him attitude. He’s right; it was his fault I was standing here looking all pitiful and lonely, but now I had something to smile about. The opportunity of a lifetime had just landed at my feet.

  The deranged man nibbled my ear, and still after all I knew about him, my body settled into his arms. I’m such a masochist. Why not just tie me in a chair and make me watch Jackson Sexapade Reels on loop?

  “Come home with me.”

  “Aren’t I outside your jurisdiction, Sheriff?” I voice sweetly, emphasizing the dick in diction.

  “Now, sweetheart, if you come back home with me I promise to let you ride my jurisdiction anyway you want, sugar.”

  Play hard to get, Anna; don’t fall for the trap.

  “Jackson, I’m not going to get added to your seven parish rotation.”

  He didn’t respond to my hit. Not one bit. Instead, he kissed the side of my forehead, pulling me tighter against his hard chest. He nuzzled my neck, and digging his erection somewhat painfully into my back.

  “I don’t want you on any fucking rotation, Anna, and if Tina Wheeler wasn’t a girl, I’d punch her in her lying mouth.”

  I turned quickly in his arms, so there was no mistaking his intentions. I wanted to look him in the eye when, and if, he lied to me.

  “So you don’t fuck more than one woman between here and seven other parishes this side of St. Paul’s?”

  His eyes widened before they scrunched at the brow. Instinct almost made me wipe his forehead but I hold back, waiting for his answer.

  “Yeah, I fucked a lot of women, and I’m not going to apologize. I’m a man, Annabelle, not a priest.”

  His face dipped lower and his eyes lightened as he lifted a hand, stroking his fingers across my bottom lip.

  “But when a man finds his woman, he puts all that bullshit behind him. He devotes his time, his energy, his affections on that one woman, and one woman alone. And since you’re that woman for me, Annabelle, everything before you doesn’t matter.”

  Astonished, I whisper, “I’m that woman to you?” We barely knew each other. How could he possibly think that, and the job, how was that going to work with my new job?

  “Yeah, baby, you’re that woman.”

  Curving his lips upwards and exposing perfect white teeth, he bent and kissed me lightly on the lips.

  “Come home with me.”

  “Fireworks, Jackson, I want to see them.” I was buying time; he knew it and didn’t seem to care. I didn’t want a one-night stand with him either, but what else was there at this point? He lived in Beauville, and I was going back to New York after this week.

  “We got our own fireworks to make.”

  He didn’t ask me again. No, not Jackson Storme. He tugged me forward and I didn’t have a choice but to follow. He opened the door for me and I hopped in. I watched as he swaggered to his side of the truck. His jeans molded to his legs, encasing a perfect ass, and I swear before all that is holy, he walked with sure-fire confidence that dripped nothing but sex appeal. Lord almighty, I was in for an evening of complete and total debauchery.

  I didn’t even get to say goodbye to Joey and Treat.

  Jackson’s house wasn’t far from the festival. He lived in a beautiful three-story home that used to be a bed and breakfast, complete with wraparound porch. It clashed with everything I knew about him.

  “You have a beautiful home,” I said as we walked up to the front door of his house. The shutters were a navy blue. The siding on the house was white, and the door was a double with matching side light windows. It was the picture perfect home for the picture perfect family. I was cataloguing everything I saw as we moved through his house, hoping it would calm some of the sexual energy that was roaring through my body.

  There was entirely too much arousal pent up between the two of us. In the car we’d said nothing, what was there to say? We were coming back to his place for one thing, and one thing only. Right now, I was a little bit worried, half-anxious, and a whole lot exited. What if Jackson and I weren’t compatible in bed, or worse– what if he thought I was no good? Now my anxiety was front and center. My palms were sweaty and there was a sharp pain that start
ed to radiate outward from the center of my chest. Right now, it was all about action. Clearing my throat and shifting my dress, I stood there under the foyer’s light, feeling all kinds of squeamish.

  What if he didn’t like my body, what if he couldn’t pull his fingers through my hair because it was too thick and curly? Shit! I should have flat ironed my hair, but then I would have sweated it out during all the sex we were about to have.

  It was a useless thought. Jackson turned back toward me when he noticed I hadn’t moved farther into the house. His eyes are hooded as he took in my posture. A serious, searing look that peeled back layers I’d hidden for so long from not only myself but from him. I just stood there, not moving, allowing him to take in all of my vulnerability. Not doing much of anything really. Don’t panic.

  “Sorry, beautiful, I didn’t realize your feet were bare.” It wasn’t my feet being shoeless that made me halt my forward movement into his home. It was all my crazy doubts and fears. In New York, race wasn’t an issue. Down South, in some places, it could be. Although most of the good people of Beauville were open-minded, some though were not. What if he just wanted to test the whole, “the darker the berry the sweeter the juice theory?” I’ve never known Jackson to date outside his race. Should I even care if I was a possible experiment or his last chance to walk on the wild side?

  You’re over thinking this, Anna.

  My body was not in sync with my brain, both parts warring against the other. My body ached for Jackson, my brain over analyzed our situation. I knew this wasn’t forever, but, thoughts had been running rampant in my mind most of the day. Jackson cradled me, lifting me into his arms, which only excited me further. The smells from the outside now muted, I inhale him. He smells like summer with a shot of bold alpha male. What does that even smell like anyway? Jackson. My mind answers. Yeah, bold alpha male, smells like Jackson Storme. A unique scent that’s tangible with latent male energy waiting to be unleashed on its unsuspecting prey.

  We were halfway down the hall when I slid down his body, molding myself to his frame until we were practically on top of each other right there in his hallway. One of his hands slid up my arm, along my neck up to my ponytail, where he unfastened my hair, finger combing it out to let it rest on my shoulders. I couldn’t help but notice his fingers weren’t stuck once. I sent up a silent thank you and willed myself to stay still while he touched me. His breath fanned my face as he pulled me up to meet his lips.

  Then he kissed me. Soft, slow, like we had all the time in the world. I had no choice but to follow his movements. He wasn’t a sloppy wet kisser, the kind where the guy had no clue how to finesse his woman. The kiss that Jackson and I were sharing was his way of claiming me, a kiss to prepare my body for complete satiation. We were walking, not running; walking. Him forward, me backward, to some part of the house I assumed was his room. The entire time our mouths never separated. It was the perfect blend of lips, tongue, and air.

  “I’m going to make love to you, Annabelle, and then I’m going to fuck you hard, giving you the best of both worlds, baby. You won’t need anyone but me keeping that body of yours satisfied.”

  Well wasn’t he just cocky. But I loved it. Had no doubt he’d do exactly what he said he was going to do. Jackson undressed me with sure hands, lifting the straps from my dress, watching intently as my breasts are freed, his eyes wide in appreciation as his gaze heated my skin. When my dress dropped, I trembled as my heart tried to fight its way past my rib cage. I needed to get a handle on myself or I was going to pass out from too much anticipation. Jackson bent at the waist, kissing my stomach reverently, before moving his hands to the band of my underwear at my waist.

  “Step out of these,” his voice brushed across my belly, then my hips, as he kissed first the left side, then the right. I braced myself on his shoulders as he slowly pulled the wet fabric between my legs down. When I stepped out of them, we were both breathing heavily.

  “Get on the bed, Annabelle, lie back, and spread your legs.” His voice dropped lower, the words raspy as he spoke. I savored the sound as it moved over me like a lover’s kiss and did as he asked.

  I watched as he made short work of his clothes. Glancing down at the huge appendage between his legs, I almost shrieked. I knew my eyes were larger than an owl’s when I looked at him and then back at his cock, shaking my head. How in the world was that going to even work? I’d been with men who were large in the downstairs department before, but with girth came the lack of length and vice versa. Men were either or, not both. Jackson Storme was over-proportioned in the dick department. To say he is hung is an understatement. The head of his cock is a purplish-red that pulses with life, and the sides are heavily veined. The skin looks as if it was stretches excessively tight along his shaft and ready to rip free, unleashing his muscle at any moment.

  I watched, licking my lips, but still shaking my head as he stroked himself from root to tip producing a bead of pre-cum that seeped from his opening and slid over the rim of his cock.

  “We’ll fit, Annabelle, we will definitely fit.” Jackson said as he released himself, placing a knee on the bed. He made his way towards me, the tip of his cock dragging along the sheets as he prowled closer. His shoulders flexed with each movement until he slid over me, aligning our most intimate parts. He reached above my head turning on the light that sat on the nightstand, throwing us into a soft glow.

  I blinked rapidly as I tried to focus. I was able to see him, and his entire body was hard, from his steel arms enclosed in bronze skin to his eight pack that was clearly defined by the light casting shadows on his male perfection. Jackson rose above me and kissed my eyelids closed before making his way to my mouth. His exploration was slow as he made his way down my body. I moaned in protest when his presence left me, hungry for more of his attention. He didn’t make me wait long. Grabbing my calves and pulling me closer, he sat back on his knees, bending forward, positioning his mouth at my entrance.

  Air expelled from my chest when his hot breath fanned across my flesh. His hands slid over my thighs, up to my opening. He didn’t place one finger inside of me, but two, pushing deep, twisting, and pulling back out and then sliding back in. He hooked his fingers in a way that caressed that part of me that had my back coming off the bed and my thighs quaking while a moan deep in my throat slid free into the room. I needed him inside of me, not later, but now. My hands dug into his hair, tugging him upward but he pulled back, latching onto my clit and sucking softly at first, while his fingers stoked the fire burning inside. Something dangerous was building, it was dark, lustful, and it wanted things I didn’t think I was ready for. My legs trembled as my body began to unravel until my release was too tight and I could no longer keep it at bay.

  “Jackson… Jackson, right there, that…right there.” I was thrashing my head from left to right, my nerves burning with the intensity of a Roman candle, louder and brighter than any that could ever go off in the night sky. His head rose slowly from between my legs, his lips glistening with my juices as he grinned and winked at me. His eyes were darker than I’d ever seen, and as realization hit me, a twinge of fear began creeping in. He was trying to make me his for real, as in Annabelle Storme.

  Oh shit.

  My heart pounded and my limbs seized, I wanted this, right? Earlier I’d been trying out all the different ways I could be Mrs. Jackson Storme, and I had liked it. I wasn’t afraid of change, but I was definitely afraid of what this would mean for me, for us.

  All too soon, he was crawling up my body, placing heated kisses on my skin. My hair was damp with sweat but he didn’t seem to mind.

  “You taste better than apple pie and ice cream.”

  I blinked my eyes in surprise–, apple pie?

  “Is that right?” I challenged back.

  “It is if I say it is.” He rumbled against my shoulder. I pulled my fingers through his hair and melted a little more when he whispered my name on a pleasure-filled groan the sound low and filled with need.


  His head came up to stare at me, our bodies perfectly aligned. I felt his cock at my entrance and inwardly shuddered. There was no going back now, we’d past the point of no return. Heat bloomed all along my skin, I was nervous now. Jackson’s eyes were serious as he looked into mine.

  “I’ve always worn protection, I swear, Anna, I’m clean.”

  This was not something I wanted to get into but it was necessary.

  “Haven’t been with a man in over a year and I’m clean. Never been with a guy either who didn’t use protection. But I’m not on the pill, Jackson, we need to be careful.”

  The feral smile that appeared on his face was telling. He didn’t respond with words, instead, he slowly pushed in, hissing as his cock parted my folds, opening me up to his invasion. Fullness, it was the only feeling I could discern as I adjusted myself, trying to get used to the size of him. The feeling of being connected settled deep in my chest, as emotions too powerful for words slid down the sides of my face wetting my cheeks, pooling into my ears as I hugged him to me. I was rooted in the moment, never wanting it to end. I don’t think Jackson understood what he gave me. Words reverently whispered against the hollow of my throat as he glided in and out of me. I could feel the length of his cock dragging against my sensitive flesh.

  “You’re amazing, Annabelle, beautiful.”

  I never once thought that I could hold onto a man like Jackson Storme. I’ve adored him from afar for so long, that to have what I’ve always wanted is more than any dream I could have ever had.

  “Everything is going to be okay, Annabelle. I’m going to take care of you.” Jackson whispered against my lips, as my body momentarily seized.

  It’s always just been momma and me. Then it was just me when I’d left for New York. Independence was a hard thing to give up. It was something that would take time. If being with Jackson was my reward, I’d take baby steps to make whatever this was work. Everything had to be okay, because somewhere among the missing years and the time spent in his presence, Jackson Storme had come to mean something to me, something real, and something permanent.