As nice as it would be to have an oven exactly like the one Jack's describing, that's definitely not what's getting me so worked up. I've always known that Jack is strong, of course, but the way he manhandles me, pushing me up higher as he slides lower, is making it difficult for me to even remember how to breathe.

I'm half curled over him, my hand against the headboard and head ducked to watch as stares at... oh goodness, he's looking at my dick, right at where I'm so hard I'm actually pushing out of my briefs a little. It should be embarrassing, I think, and it is in some respects, but the way Jack so gently pulls at the waistband, the absolute wreck of his voice when he speaks again, when he murmurs something in French just has me shaking and biting back a whimper.

"I..." I start, legs trembling as I manage a nod. "God, if you-- If you really want to. Please. Please, Jack."