No sooner do the words leave my lips than he pushes my underwear aside, sliding a thick finger inside me. I gasp at the sudden intrusion, arching my back. He pulls back slightly, and when I open my eyes, I find him watching where we’re joined, his eyes hooded.
“Open your legs for me,” he rasps. I let my knees fall to the side, and he sucks in a breath. It makes me feel powerful knowing he’s affected like this.
Suddenly, his finger is gone, leaving me empty as he sits back on his heels and shoves his boxers down just low enough to free his cock. I can’t look away as he fists himself, slowly moving up and down his length. The pulse between my legs throbs, and I have the sudden urge to taste him, but Jesse has other ideas.
“Show me how you touch yourself.”
I hesitate, biting down on my lip. I’ve never done that in front of anyone. Somehow, it feels more personal. Dirtier. And I’m surprised to find it only gets me hotter.
I trail my hand down my stomach slowly, stopping between my thighs. I tease my clit through my underwear, loving how Jesse’s eyes flare as he watches me.
“Take them off,” he says, working himself.
I push them down my legs, and once they’re to my knees, he tugs them off, letting them drop to the floor. Planting my feet on the mattress, I spread my bent knees, giving him a better view.
“Fuck, Allie.”
Using two fingers, I rub myself in small circles. I don’t expect it to feel so good, but I’m already close to the edge, rolling my hips into my touch. I need him to touch me. Kiss me. Anything at this point. Wanting to push him into action, I use my free hand to pull my shirt up before teasing my nipples with my fingertips.
Jess groans, leaning down to swipe his tongue across the hardened tip. My heart pounds faster, blood rushing through my ears as he tugs it between his teeth and pulls.
“Oh my God, Jess,” I moan, my hand moving faster. I squeeze my eyes shut, lost in the sensations, when I feel him nudge against my entrance. My eyes fly open, but he doesn’t push farther, sliding his head up and down my slit as I continue to rub myself.
Feeling bold, I move my hand down farther, wrapping it around him. He’s thick and smooth and hard in my hand. He lets out a strangled curse as he releases his grip. He pulls his shirt up so he can have an unobstructed view as I pump his length. He rocks forward slightly, nudging in a little more before pulling back out.
“Do it again,” I urge, needing more.
He repeats the motion, then licks his thumb before bringing it to my clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to send me over the edge. I tighten around his tip, every nerve ending tingling as I come, shuddering beneath him. I feel light-headed and dizzy, my hand around him going slack. He takes over, pumping hard, abs tensing. A few more strokes and he’s pulling away abruptly, spilling onto my inner thigh.
Jess and I haven’t so much as left the room all day. It’s two P.M. and we’ve been in bed alternating between having more not sex and watching movies on his laptop. He never pushed for more. I know what’s holding me back, but why he hasn’t tried to seal the deal is beyond me. It’s almost some sort of game between us to see who breaks first, and I’ll admit, I’m very close to losing that battle.
Dehydrated and hungry as hell, we finally see the light of day when we decide to grab lunch at Blackbear before my shift starts. The closer we get to the restaurant, the more I start to rethink this idea. It’s bad enough that he’s always hanging out during my shift and watching me intently. But showing up for lunch together looks an awful lot like a date.
“Relax, Allie.”
My gaze snaps up to Jesse’s.
“I am relaxed,” I lie, and he sends a pointed look at my hands that are twisting in my lap.
“We’re living together. Roommates eating a meal together isn’t exactly unheard of.”
I bristle at his snarky tone. Jess pulls into a parking spot behind Blackbear and cuts the engine.
“I didn’t mean anything by—”
He shakes his head. “It’s fine. Let’s go inside. I’m fucking starving.”
I nod, confused by his sudden mood change, then hop out of the truck. Jess stuffs his hands into his front pockets, keeping a healthy distance between us as we head for the entrance. Once we’re inside, Jess stops short, eyes fixed on a man at the bar. I pause, looking between the two of them.
“Go eat, Allie,” he says to me without taking his eyes off the man at the bar with the backwards Raiders hat.
“Aren’t you coming?”
“I just lost my appetite,” he says, finally meeting my eyes. “I’ll be here after your shift to give you a ride.”
“Oh.” I fight to keep the disappointment from being written all over my face. “Okay.” A million questions racing through my mind, I reluctantly walk away, not wanting to raise suspicion.
I take a seat in one of the back booths, too far away to hear, but close enough to see Jesse.
“Henry,” Jake says, standing over me with his order pad. I didn’t even notice him approach.
“Huh?”
“That’s Henry.” He nods toward Jess and the man—Henry, apparently—who pats the stool next to him in invitation. Jesse runs his hand through his hair, hesitating. I can feel the uncertainty radiating off him from here. “He’s the closest thing to a dad they’ve got,” Jake explains.
I nod, having gathered that. Not wanting to seem too interested, I pick up a menu. “I’ll have…” I say, pretending to scan my options that I know by heart, “a personal pepperoni pizza, a side salad with ranch, and a Coke.”
“Sounds good,” he says, not bothering to take down my order before walking away.
From the corner of my eye, I notice Henry walk outside, Jesse right behind him. I watch them through the window, Jesse’s gaze pointed at his feet as Henry speaks. Jesse shrugs in response to whatever he’s saying, kicking around a piece of gravel. They don’t appear to be fighting, but I can tell he feels uncomfortable. Right now, I see that vulnerable little boy from the picture. I don’t know what’s being said, but I know that I have the urge to hug him and make it better. To put that obnoxious, cocky grin back on his face. And the fact that I want to do that fills me with unease. He’s not my boyfriend—he’s not my anything—and I need to remember that. I can’t let the lines blur because we’re having fun.
Henry reaches a hand out to squeeze Jesse’s shoulder, causing him to flinch. The movement is almost imperceptible, but I catch it, and Henry does, too, if his dejected expression is anything to go by. Then they’re parting ways, Jesse going right, Henry going left.
By the time ten o’clock rolls around, I’m running on fumes. I’ve alternated between trying to answer all the question marks where Jesse is concerned and replaying the events of last night—and this morning—in my head like a movie all day. Every time the door chimed, I expected to see Jess, then chastised myself for it.
I’m absentmindedly wiping down my last table when I hear his voice behind me. “Hey, little girl, want some candy?”
I turn around, eyebrow lifted, to see Jesse holding a bouquet of Dum-Dums, all strawberry and butterscotch, by the looks of it. I flatten my lips to hide the smile that tries to break free.
“Sorry for bailing on breakfast. Lunch. Whatever that was.” His hair falls into his eyes, his expression mischievous. I roll my eyes, snatching the bundle of suckers. “Does that mean you forgive me?” he asks, amused.
“Nothing to forgive,” I say, feigning indifference, turning back around to finish wiping down the table.
He leans down, his front covering my back as he brings his lips close to my ear. “That’s a shame. I was hoping to make it up to you tonight.” His fingers rake up the back of my thigh, digging into my tights, and I jump away once they get to the hem of my shorts.
My eyes dart around the crowded room to make sure no one’s watching, putting a healthy distance between us. My skin is already on fire from his touch and the promise of what’s to come, but I glare a
t him. “What are you doing?”
“Relax. Everyone’s too drunk to notice.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Then get in the fucking car so I can touch you at my leisure because it’s been eight hours since I’ve had you underneath me.” His words both thrill me and embarrass me, and I think that’s his intent. He wants to throw me off my game and watch me squirm.
I walk toward the back room to gather my stuff, intentionally taking my time. I’m just as anxious to be alone with Jess, but I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing it. When I’ve got everything, I find him waiting by the door, eyeing me with amusement—as if he knows I’m being purposely slow—with his arms folded across his chest. He pushes against the door with his back to open it, gesturing for me to go first with a flick of his chin.
“How chivalrous.”
“Chivalry’s my middle name.”
“I thought it was Cocky,” I say, rounding the corner toward the back parking lot.
“I’ll show you cocky,” he promises. Walked right into that one.
The moment we’re inside his truck with the doors closed, we both look at each other, the tension mounting between us. I wet my dry lips and his eyes follow the movement.
“Come here.” Jess lunges for me, pulling me over the middle console until I’m straddling him. His hands grip my hips, his thumbs pressing into my exposed skin where my work shirt has ridden up. My hair falls around us like a curtain as I decide to make the first move, leaning down to bring my lips to his. I tentatively lick the seam of his lips before sucking the bottom one into my mouth and giving it a light tug. Jesse groans, his fingers tightening on my hips, but he allows me to continue my exploration without making a move. I bring my hands to his face before kissing his top lip, and when I slip my tongue inside his mouth, he finally snaps into action. Our noses mash together as he kisses me back in full force. Our bodies start moving to a rhythm of their own, nothing but the sound of our harsh breathing in the quiet cocoon of his truck.
Jess dips his hands under my shirt, his warm palms sliding against my skin. He stops just south of where I need him to touch me, but not going any farther. I squirm in his lap, wanting more. Always needing more. Even in a public parking lot, apparently. My nipples tighten painfully, and I pull back, pouting.
“What’s wrong, Allie Girl?” he taunts, lips glistening, as he pushes my shirt up to expose my black mesh bra that does nothing to hide my current state of arousal.
“Stop playing with me,” I demand, but it comes out sounding more like a petulant whine.
“Never,” he says before leaning forward to catch my nipple between his teeth over the thin material of my bra.
“Jess,” I breathe, letting my head fall back as my hips rock into him. One of his hands holds me in place by my ribs and the other one slides down my back toward the gap in the waistband of my shorts. When he sucks me through my bra, wetness pools between my legs. I’ve never felt this with anyone, and now that we’ve started this little game, I can’t seem to think of anything else.
Suddenly, headlights illuminate the interior as a vehicle swings into the space next to us. The spell effectively broken, I jerk back, accidentally beeping the horn just as the man in the black SUV steps out. A man I recognize. He turns toward us, eyebrows furrowed as I scramble to pull my shirt back down.
“Allison?” Victor says, squinting at me through the dash.
“Oh my God,” I say through clenched teeth, forcing a smile. Victor starts walking toward us, and I’m quick to hop out of the truck before he gets any closer, meeting him in front of the hood.
“Hey,” I greet him, hoping like hell he can’t tell that I’ve been dry humping Jesse in the driver’s seat. “What are you doing here?” I slide my palms into my back pockets, rocking back on my heels.
“Meeting a buddy for a drink,” he says, gesturing inside. “How’s the planning coming along?”
“Really good.” I instantly perk up at the mention. “I got the perfect band. They’re local and already have a solid following, so I have a good feeling about it.”
“Sounds promising,” he says, looking me up and down, probably judging my disheveled appearance.
Before I can respond, Jesse’s out of the truck, sauntering over to us. He curls a hand around my waist, pulling me into his side in an obvious display of ownership.
“Jesse, this is Victor. Victor, this is my friend, Jesse,” I say, sending him a pointed look as I inch away from him. Victor gives him an amenable smile, holding out his hand. Jesse hesitates, eyeing his proffered hand like it’s covered in dog shit.
Jesus, Jess, don’t screw this up.
Just when I think he’s going to leave him hanging, he reaches out to shake Victor’s hand.
“Nice to meet you,” Victor says before turning his attention back to me. “I have to get in there, but call me if you need anything.”
“Will do.”
Victor gives a polite nod to Jess—which he ignores—then he’s walking away.
“Who the hell was that?” Jess asks.
“Someone who can potentially open a lot of doors for me if I manage to plan an event without screwing it up.” I stalk back to the car, annoyed with myself for being stupid enough to get caught in this position, and annoyed with Jess for pulling that caveman shit in front of someone who could play a huge role in my future.
I climb back into the car, and Jesse’s in the driver’s seat a second later.
“I don’t like him,” he says, squeezing the steering wheel. “He’s smarmy.”
“Smarmy?” I huff out a laugh.
“Smarmy as fuck. I don’t like the way he looked at you.”
“He was looking at me like that because I was having a make-out session in a car like some…” I trail off, searching for the right words, “some horny teenager,” I deadpan.
“You are a horny teenager.”
I cut my eyes at him. “Not helping.”
He starts the engine, throwing the gear into reverse. “So, what’s this event?”
“You remember when I went to that show with Garrett?”
Jess narrows his eyes, and I take that as my answer.
“I ran into Victor there. He was a friend of my dad’s. I didn’t know it was his venue, and I may have pointed out some things I could’ve done better.”
I swear I see his lips lift at the corner into an almost-smile.
“He offered me a chance to organize my own event and put that theory to the test.”
“That’s a big deal, right? Is that what you want to do for a living?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “I know I want to do something with music, so the experience can’t hurt. And Dylan’s band hasn’t had a place to play, so I figured it was a win-win situation.”
Jess nods. “When is it?”
I study him, the streetlights illuminating his sharp features. “Next Friday. Why, you suddenly a fan of my kind of music?”
“Hard pass.” He scoffs.
“What about you?”
“What about me?” He stares ahead at the dark road, one hand on the wheel. Every few seconds, the streetlights allow me a brief glimpse of his sharp profile, his jaw set hard.
“What’s next for the infamous Jesse Shepherd?” I joke, throwing in jazz hands for effect.
His grip on the steering wheel tightens, his knuckles turning white. “You’re looking at it.”
My smile falls. “So that’s it? You’re just giving up?” He can’t possibly be content to hang around Blackbear sometimes working for the rest of his life.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know that you’re not who you want everyone to think you are.”
He looks over at me. “And who do you think I am?”
“An outsider. Like me.” I don’t mean to blurt it out, but I do and there’s no taking it back now. I don’t think anyone truly knows Jesse except for maybe Lo. How could they? He doesn’t
let anyone in. Least of all me. But somehow, I manage to see him. Maybe it’s because underneath all the bullshit, we’re the same. Two lost, closed-off kids with trust issues, pretending to have their shit together.
We lock eyes for long seconds, much too long to be considered safe when driving. Finally, he peels his gaze from me. He’s quiet for the rest of the ride home, but he’s thinking so hard I can practically hear his thoughts. Just as he pulls into the driveway, his phone flashes with an incoming call. He quickly silences it, flipping it facedown onto his jean-covered thigh.
“I’ll be there in a few,” he tells me, and I take that as my not-so-subtle hint to go inside.
“Thanks for the ride,” I mutter, grabbing my backpack before hopping out and shutting the car door none too gently. These secrets of his are driving me insane.
Once inside, I kick off my boots before plodding up the wooden stairs that feel cold underneath my tights-covered feet. I toss my backpack onto my bed and unzip the front pocket, feeling around for my phone. Unsurprisingly, there are multiple texts from my mom.
Hi, honey. Miss you!
Have you had a chance to go through your dad’s things?
Sending peace, love, and light. Xoxoxo.
I roll my eyes, huffing out a laugh at that last one. She was one hundred percent high when she sent that. And what part of “I’m not ready” does she not understand? Just the thought of sorting through my dad’s things has me on the verge of a panic attack. I can’t explain it.
Tossing my phone onto my bed, I grab my headphones, then blindly reach for a CD out of my case. I’m a mood listener—have a mix CD for every occasion—but right now, I just need something loud. Anything will do. I pop it in, snapping the lid shut before fitting the headphones around my neck.
The faint sound of Rise Against hits my ears as my curiosity has me moving toward the window that overlooks the front yard. Pulling back the curtain, I spot Jess standing outside his car, phone to his ear. He starts to pace the driveway, gesticulating wildly. I part the curtain a little more to get a better look, cocking my head to the side, transfixed with his every move. Suddenly, he stops his pacing, his bicep flexing as he drags his free hand through his hair. He angles his body toward the window and lifts his chin, then he’s looking directly at me—or at least, it seems that way.
Bad Influence Page 15
