Jack Abbot gets off on being the one you rely on for everything.
He's a progressive man, don't get him wrong. He loves how independent you are. How you take pride in doing things yourself, sometimes stubbornly refusing help because you've been burned by men who weaponised your competence.
He knows how capable you are. He's convinced you can do anything you set your mind to. You know it too.
Still, there's something about this older man who's been through hell and back, the one people look to in a crisis, who walks into a room and earns respect without uttering a single word, a man who shows you so much trust and appreciation for everything you do.. that makes you want to just.. let him.
What you don't know is how badly he wants to be needed by you.
Jack wants to look after you, every want and every need, no matter how small or how insignificant it might seem. It's gotten to the point where he thinks he might be losing his mind.
You casually mention that the kitchen faucet is leaking. "I'll do it." Dr. Abbot says in that warm honeyed tone and the next thing you know he's at your door with a toolbox.
Why the hell would he let you call another man and pay for it when he can fix it himself?
You complain to the other nurses that your dishwasher broke and suddenly he's watching repair tutorials on his phone.
How difficult could it be?
Then he's in your kitchen, sweat sliding down his neck, arms working while he tries to make your life just a little easier and can feel your gaze intensely on him.
That's his favorite part.
The attention you give him. The way you watch his hands as they move, biting your lip at the sight of him simply being useful, for you. The softness in your voice when you thank him. The relief on your face when the worry fades because he took care of it.
The perfume you wanted but didn"t buy because it was too expensive?
Jack says he's going to find a restroom while you keep browsing and you barely have time to blink before there is a small bag in your hand.
"It was more for me, really.." He murmurs in your ear when you open it, "-because I love that scent on you."
Even the shopping cart doesn't stand a chance. You barely notice when he taps his card and thanks the employee before you even reach into your purse.
At first Jack thinks something is wrong with him.
Why the hell is the blood rushing to his cock when all you did was ask if he could help assemble the desk you bought for your apartment?
Maybe it's the way you bat your eyelashes at him. That innocent look in your eyes when both of you know damn well you could do it yourself. The way you purr the word 'please' like it belongs in a completely different conversation than building furniture.
You lean closer to him, lightly brushing his arm, your smaller frame almost pressing into his side but not quite touch him cause you always let him take initiative. It thrills him.
There's something about the fact that you don't actually need him to do these things. You just want him to because it's him. Because he's your man and wants to give you everything.
His heart flutters like a bird trapped inside a cage when you thank him with that sweet smile meant only for him. The genuine gratitude in your touch when you melt into him during a hug. The way his name rolls off your tongue because you know exactly what it does to him when he's the one you call to fix every damn problem in your life.
Even something as simple as hearing your voice go soft and whiny while you cling to him and complain that you're hungry does it for him.
Asking him to change a light bulb because 'you can't' when in reality you just want to watch the way his shirt lifts and his fingers get to work, handling it effortlessly the same way he handles you.
The satisfaction Jack feels when he lets you try to get yourself off using him first, working you up until you're begging him to take over, begging him to touch you and give you exactly what you want because he knows best.
The sight of you with your tits slipping from your shirt, grinding yourself against his thigh while he watches how desperately you want his hands on you.
"Please, Jack-" you whimper softly, the sound slipping from your parted lips as his movements grow faster, guiding your hips back and forth to give you the friction you crave.
He could give you what you want right then but call him a sadistic bastard because the strain in your voice, the tears shining in your eyes and the way your body moves helplessly trying to find his like an animal in heat gives him almost as much pleasure as his leaking cock sliding raw in and out of you.
"You need my help, pretty girl?" he hums against your ear, just to watch you nod and sigh out messy, incoherent answers.
The wet sounds coming from underneath obscene, a clear indication that you made a whole mess on his lap, pants soaking wet from the way you are jerking down your hips against your own slick on the soft material.
He'll give you what you want.
He'll always be a good soldier and follow your every command.. but the way you give yourself to him so easily? how you let him do whatever he wants because you know it's your pleasure he cares about more than his own?
Yeah. Take advantage of that.
Sit on his face while his strong arms hold you steady so you don't move an inch. Feel the tip of his tongue pressing insistently against that sensitive nub, teasing it with quick flicks that send more shivers rushing through your body until you're gasping at every slight shift of his mouth.
Every nerve lights up when his tongue presses flat and drags slow circles over your clit, making you jerk so hard you nearly slip right off him.
And when you whisper that maybe you should stop for a moment because you're afraid you might fall?
"Don't fucking hover." is what you get in response.
When Dr. Abbot starts something, he finishes it.
Too drunk on the taste of your soaked cunt to care about breathing, he'll make sure you're far too spent to even wish him goodnight before he's satisfied with his work.
If he catches you browsing lingerie online, it shows up at your door the next day. If your perfume is almost finished, there are two new bottles waiting on your nightstand in the morning. If your fridge looks half empty, he's already ordered enough groceries to fill it and every cupboard in your kitchen.
Jack Abbot never refuses his pretty girl anything.
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