Jack has been driving you wild all night long at the party. You know that fucker is doing it on purpose. He knows damn well what an effect he has on you.
Once you get home and the door is shut, you shove him against the wall, crashing your lips into his. "Eager, are we?" he murmurs and you pull him into the bedroom.
You take off his shirt and push him on the bed, climbing on top of him. "You should really button up those shirts."
"I thought you liked it this way?" He smirks.
"Oh, believe me, I do." You reach for a scarf and tie his wrists to the bed, making him grin.
"I like where this is going…"
You don't even bother teasing him - as tempting as it is - because you're too needy for him and you're not willing to wait any longer. When you pull down his jeans, he's already hard and you quickly undress before straddling him again.
It's obvious he enjoys it as he keeps whispering how hot it is to have you on top. "Do you like that? Like being in control?"
Even when you're the one in control, he manages to make you weak, but you don't let it show. "Actually, yeah."
"Good, me too."
Jack loves this position, even more so than you, but what you like even better about this time is that he physically can't let his hands roam your body like he usually does. That's what he gets for making you feel sexually frustrated in only a few short hours.
When you free his hands once you're finished, you collapse on top of him, satisfied with how the night turned out after all.