Phoebe is nodding as Jack draws closer, hovering above him, both hands touching him, both hands coaxing, eyes wide and enraptured as she watches his body change.
It's the hottest thing in the world.
It's the most beautiful thing in the world.
Eyes shutting, body tensing, every muscle flex, and thenâ
Phoebe blinks hard, sucking in a breath when she feels Jack spill over and finish on her hand.
'Ooohhh, fuck,'
Another first for Phoebeâ watching guy come. Seeing come on her hand. Her cheeks are blazing, entire body hot when she watches Jack thrust into her hand for the remainder of his orgasm.
Hmm.
That's hot. That's really fucking hot, actually, Phoebe feels almost shy for how hot she finds the whole thing, how enraptured she is with the process of it all.
'Fuck, Phoebe, I thought â'
Oh, God. Did Jack know how hot he looks right now? Breath ragged, hair wild, chest heaving? Phoebe is entranced, obsessed, she can't stop staring and smiling all dazed and dopey like an idiot.
She just hopes she did good. She just hopes that Jack feels good now, feels perfect, she hopes Jack can tell just how badly she wants to make him happy.
'That was so good,'
Happinessâ pure and instant, flooding every inch of her with a pleased sort of bliss.
'You did so good, baby.'
She did good! She did good! Smiling, fucking beaming, Phoebe releases his cock, pulls both hands awayâ only to place her right hand below his navel, briefly, fingertips rubbing against the wiry hair with gentle affection as he props himself up on an elbow.
And then he kisses her. A quick little peck. Phoebe's entire body is buzzing, tingling, alight with satisfaction and happiness and some other emotion Phoebe cannot quite label, cannot stick a pin into and identify.
But it feels good.
It feels really good, and it only feels that way when she's next to Jack.
'Let me, um. Get you something. To clean up.'
Phoebe slowly pulls her hand away, places it delicately on her lapâ she doesn't want to get in the way of that! Clean-up! But in truth, Phoebe is feeling very affectionate. Very giggly, very happy, very connected to Jack in a way that she can't control. She wants to cuddle him, wants to stare at him all night like a fucking idiot.
"Thank you," she giggles preemptively, suddenly feeling very shy. She did need to clean upâ she was probably a mess, between her legs, her forehead shone with sweat and her hand still glistened with. Well. Jack.
She looks at him. Bites her bottom lip hard.
"Soâ that was good, right? I made you feel good?"
Phoebe isn't sure what comes over her now, but something doesâ curiosity, a desire to be closer to Jack, somethingâ but whatever it is, it has Phoebe raising her right hand, delicately licking a bead of come from her palm with a curious lap.
Hmm. She likes it, she decidesâJack tastes good. And then she blushes, furiously, red and bashful, wondering if she'd just weirded Jack out, or perhaps embarrassed herself in some way. Did you do that? Was that normal of her to do? Phoebe isn't sure, only knows that she had wanted to do it very badly, wants to taste all of him. She wants all of Jack, frankly.
She smiles. Tries to rush past her embarrassment. Her body is still tingling from the aftershocks of her orgasm, still half-floating, everything all syrupy and slow.
"I justâ you made me feel so good, Jack. Likeâ really special. I just wanna make sure... I did all that right. And you feel as amazing as me."
Jack didn't feel like getting out of bed at all. He wanted to lie there with Phoebe, in the mess that they'd made, not caring. But as relaxed as he was, he felt the need to get up. To bolt, actually, to the other side of the room when he remembered the way he'd asked Phoebe to kiss him mid-handjob. It was very unlike Jack.
Post nut clarity was real. Hah.
"Soâ that was good, right? I made you feel good?"
Phoebe, though, was looking shy, smiley, asking Jack what he thought, and Jack returned her smile. What really threw him off, though, was when she licked some of the come off of her hand. His mouth flew open, and it stayed that way for a few seconds.
"That's so fucking hot," he finally said, feeling a faint ache at his cock. God, not again. Too soon, too soon. He was so sensitive still. "And yes, Phoebe. That was fucking incredible. I came so hard. As you can see."
He smiled a little wickedly.
"That was really good. And what you just did was really hot. Maybe we can work on that next. Using our mouths?" He suggested, very casually, before he stood from the bed.
"I'm gonna get you something else to wear."
Jack kissed her forehead before he stood. He told himself he'd only done that to keep up appearances. Because he wanted to fuck her, at the end of the day, and the only way to do that was by earning even more of her trust.
But, fuck, what did he do? What was that? All of the tender moments between the two came rushing into view, and it made Jack want to lock himself in the fucking bathroom.
Her clothes were still soaking in the bathroom. He used the other empty sink to dampen a cloth. He wiped the come away from his stomach, staring at himself in the mirror. His hair was crazy. There was sweat all over himâ gliding down his neck, his chest, his forehead. His face was red. He was still breathing pretty heavily. He used a clean towel to wipe at his forehead, neck, chest.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, what was he going to do?
He brought out some towels for Phoebeâ one of them dampened, and Jack didn't know why, but he helped her clean up. He swiped at her pretty little hands, small in comparison to his, very tenderly. He placed the other towel on the bed for her use, and tossed the dirty clothes and towels into the laundry basket. (Overflowing, of course. Jack fucking hated laundry.)
Finally, Jack walked back to his closet. He slipped into a fresh pair of briefs. He wanted to shower, honestly, but he felt like it was a dickish moveâ leaving Phoebe on his bed, or kicking her out... but that had never stopped him before.
Fuck. What did he do, what did he do, what did he do?
Alright, game plan. Offer Phoebe some fresh clothes, sit with her for 5-10 minutes, then Uber her home? Walk her home? Or watch a movie until they fell asleep? Or did he let her stay? Fuck.
"I can wash all of your clothes," Jack offered. An excuse to see her again. "And for now, you can wear these," he said, walking over a fresh pair of sweats, a fresh T-shirt, and even some of his boxer briefs, considering her underwear were damp and on the floor.
Had he done too much? Created too much space between them? Jesus Christ, Jack was a fucking amateur at things like this. He sat on the edge of the bed.
"You did fucking amazing."
















