“Where do you want it, beautiful girl? On the couch? Up against this glass right here? In my bed? Your first time with me should be just the way you like.”
I’m torn between being moved that he’s asking and wanting to tell him to shut up and just fuck me already.
“That depends…” I say, working the buttons on his fancy white dress shirt before meeting his hot, blue gaze. I drop my legs from around his waist and slide down his body. Then, my eyes still locked with his, I reach for the front of his trousers and continue, “…on whether you’re a tits or ass man.”
He growls and tries to reach around for my ass. “Ah, ah, ah,” I laugh and back away. “I thought I was running this show.” I hurry around to the back of the couch and lean my elbows on it, ass out.
Another low rumble comes out of Jackson’s throat as he stalks toward me. He doesn’t come quickly. No, it’s the slow, sure stride of a hunter coming for his prey. Prickles spike up and down my arms. My heartbeat races even quicker than it already was and the heat that’s pooled in my stomach sinks lower and hotter.
By the time he grabs hold of my hips from behind, I swear I’m all but yowling like a cat in heat. He yanks me back and grinds his hardness against my ass. Then I feel the lightest touch of his fingers at my spine near the top of my dress and hear the quiet snick of him unzipping it. The next second, the bodice of my gown which had been hugging my torso is loose.
Where I expect Jackson’s touch to be rough, jerking the gown off me, he’s instead gentle. He coaxes the fabric off my arms and down my hips. It slips to the floor in a swish of chiffon fabric. Then I’m standing there in only my red bra and panties.
Again, Jackson’s hands are soft on my body. Almost reverent as he starts at my shoulder and then traces the curves downward, sliding his hands over my breasts, cresting my nipples with the gentlest of pinches and then dropping further south until he’s sliding my underwear down my hips.
My breath comes in stunted gasps now. Especially when, after my underwear has joined the pool of fabric on the floor, he starts back up my legs. He bends over and kisses his way up. When he gets to my most private of places, he pushes my back down farther over the couch with one arm and then his mouth starts to explore.
Oh. My. God. Pleasure ripples up and down my entire body. First he licks around my entrance before diving his tongue inside. My back arches as he tongues around my clit. I have to grab onto the couch so I don’t lose my balance when he starts sucking on that taut bundle of nerves because, I shit you not, he makes me weak in the knees is not just a saying. Oh God, oh God, it feels— I can’t even— If he stops, I swear I’ll—
I can’t even be embarrassed about the high-pitched keening noise that comes out of my mouth when he adds a finger inside me as he continues to suck on my clit. His fingers find that perfect place inside while he sucks outside and that does it.
I shake and then my whole body spasms as I come hard. So hard the world goes white, but it's not just for a moment. It's one pulse, and then another, and another, and I can’t breathe, and I’m not sure if my heart is beating and my whole body is one long contracting spasm of pleasure, and oh God, I’ve never felt anything like this before in my life.
Finally I gasp in a breath and my vision starts to clear again. I have a death grip on the top of the couch cushions. A moment before I wasn’t sure my heart was beating at all but now it’s going triple time.
I’m gasping as I glance over my shoulder at Jackson. He looks very self-satisfied as he wipes his mouth on his forearm. He’s mostly naked now except for his boxers. An aftershock quivers through my body at the sight. His shoulders are insanely broad and while he’s not overly muscled, it’s more muscles than I’ve ever seen on a man in real life. There are real abs and—my eyes drop down toward his V. Like a genuine V that leads to…
“Fuck me,” I whisper. Then my eyes flick back up to his and I swear, I’ve heard people talk about a haze of lust, but I’ve never felt it before now. “Get that cock out and fuck me with it. Now.”
He doesn’t smile or laugh. But I do see his eyes flare. And when I look in his hand, he’s already got a condom out. Good boy.
“Now,” I say even more urgently.
He doesn’t bother with any more pretty words. He pushes his boxers down and releases what is most definitely a cock that was created for fucking. It’s big and thick. Not monstrously so, but pretty fucking perfect in my book. Long and even and standing at fucking attention for me. For me. I can’t help but to lean back and run my hand up and down it. Jackson jerks at my touch and lets out a hiss. He throws his head back as I stroke him, but only for a moment.
“Enough,” he bats my hand away. “I have to be inside you.”
I nod and then he’s putting on the condom. His eyes meet mine and all I see is hot wanting. And shit, I’ve never wanted anything more than I want him in this moment.
He steps into me and teases me, rubbing his cock along my opening, wetting himself with my juices. I whine at his teasing, but he doesn’t make me wait. The next second, he’s shoving inside of me.
It’s not a gentle probing to ease his way in either. No, he just fucking shoves all the way home, burying himself. I gasp at the sting and stretch as my body accommodates him, but that only adds to the thrill of it.
“Fuuuuuuck,” he breathes out from behind me. He leans his chest against my back and wraps one arm around my waist, his chin nuzzled into the back of my neck. He holds that position for several insanely long moments, buried to the hilt.
He’s everywhere—surrounding me, inside me—and I feel, I feel… I swallow and am suddenly blinking back tears again. Because I’ve never felt anything like this before. It’s overwhelming. So much pleasure, yeah, but also, it’s also… like I’m safe, like nothing could ever touch me when I’m surrounded like this.
I still feel it even when he eventually pulls back and slips out of my body. Because then he’s pushing right back in, claiming my body again and again with each thrust. His large hands hold me with such assurance, like he was born to command my frame.
I’ve been naked with men before, but never this naked. Suddenly, I don’t know if I can continue. It feels good, God, so good, but it’s so much, maybe too much too soon. But just when I want to pull away from him and make some lame excuse about how I need to go, Jackson’s strong fingers turn my face so I’m looking over my shoulder at him. He shoves in deep again and then he kisses me while he cradles my face.
And I melt. My brain shuts off. It’s all just sensation. And him. Jackson. Jackson, oh God, Jackson. In me. Surrounding me. Just him. All him.
He kisses me and the hand cupping my cheek drops down to massage my breast. The pumping rhythm of his hips never lets up. I didn’t think it was possible to have three in one night, but when his hand drops even further and starts to circle my clit, that insatiable tide starts to rise again.
He plays my body like an instrument he’s spent years intimately familiar with. I can’t question it. All my energy pours into every cell of my body, and when I burst this time, it’s with him gazing into my eyes. I see the taut strain on his face as he lets himself go in the same moment.
Do fucking universes collide? I don’t fucking know. I’m sure someone put it that way once and a bunch of other loopy fucking bullshit runs through my sand-blasted brain as Jackson carries my exhausted body to his bedroom. He lays me down and then his big, warm body is beside mine. I nestle into him because I need a buffer against the chaos of my thoughts. I still don’t have the energy to even begin sorting through them. For once in my life, I won’t worry. I won’t overanalyze. Instead, I embrace the haze and complete satiation of my body. I burrow further against him and I sleep.
CHAPTER 13
I wake up slowly. I blink a couple times just long enough to see that it’s light out and then close my eyes again. Thank God Charlie is giving me just a few more minutes to sleep. He’s usually climbing into my bed and jumping on me right after dawn. Maybe he’
ll start sleeping later now that he’s older. Oh God, that would be amaaaaaaazing.
I twist over to burrow into my pillow more. My body sinks into the luxurious mattress and I snuggle the comforter around me. Mmmm, it’s so soft, it’s like snuggling with clouds.
But—wait, what?
My mattress is total shit. It bows in the middle and there’s that spring that pokes me if I shift on it wrong.
My eyes immediately shoot open and I force myself to a sitting position. My eyes skitter all around the lavish room. Like the rest of the house, all the furniture in the room is antique, but I guess there is a mix of modern. There’s no heavy brocade or outdated dark wallpaper. No, the walls are a warm, textured coffee color. Slatted wooden window shades hang in the windows.
Then of course, there’s the giant four-poster bed that I’m lying smack in the center of. I look over at the indent on the bed beside me and my air catches in my lungs. Tentatively, I run my hand over the spot. Still warm.
Okay, Cals. No more distracting myself from what happened last night by appreciating the man’s decorating taste. Me and Jackson Vale… Oh my God. I flop backwards on the bed and cover my face with my forearm. My cheeks flame remembering some of the things that happened last night.
In the light of day, I can barely believe any of it was real. Except here I am, in Jackson Vale’s giant bed. And when I twist my legs, I feel a soreness there that speaks of a night of… um, well… athletic passions is probably the best way to put it.
I press my palms to my heated cheeks. At least Jackson isn’t here to witness my morning- after face.
Which brings out a slew of other thoughts. Number one: I never washed off my makeup last night and I must look like a scarecrow-freak at this point. And number two: Jackson isn’t here. A glance at the clock beside the bed shows it’s seven-forty-five. That’s sleeping in for me. Charlie wakes me up at five-thirty or six at the latest. But Jackson. It’s a Saturday and it’s not like he had to slip out early for work. So why isn’t he here?
Don’t be an idiot, I chastise myself as I roll out of the world’s most comfortable bed. I see a door off to the left that’s slightly open. As I pad over to it, I see that my guess was right—it’s an en-suite bathroom.
Thank God. I have to piss like a racehorse, in addition to what I’m sure is the Nightmare on Elmstreet makeup situation. Last night things might have felt all mixed up because of the emotions and the nice words Jackson was saying. But I know all about the promises men spout to get into a girl’s pants. In the morning, their words are as empty as the bed I found myself alone in.
It’s fine. It’s all fine. I do my business and then turn the faucet to the hottest setting I can stand it. Last night was a pleasant exchange. For both of us. I don’t feel short-changed. No one was used. I wanted it as much as Jackson did.
I squirt out some soap from a dispenser and scrub my face a little too hard. I just wish guys would cut out the bullshit. All that talk about saying he really wanted me to work for him because I’m qualified. Or how he intimated he was interested in some kind of relationship apart from work. Ugh. I scrub extra roughly to get off the day-old mascara caked underneath my eyes.
Can’t it be enough to say, ‘hey, you make me hot, I make you hot. Wanna fuck tonight, just a one off?’ than all the lies and subterfuge of, ‘you’re so special, I want to take care of all your problems’ bullshit?
“Ow, fuck,” I say after I all but stab myself in the eye with my pointer finger. I rinse my face and dry it, but when I look in the mirror, I’m still wincing.
I put some toothpaste I find on my finger and use it like a toothbrush. But my hair looks crazy, like sex-hair meets bed-head meets riding-with-the-top-down-in-a-convertible-at-eighty-miles-an-hour. I try to finger comb it, but because of all the goop Breanna put in it last night, it’s a lost cause.
I glance back out the door to the main room. No movement. Duh. Jackson’s obviously long gone even though it’s a Saturday and he doesn’t have the excuse of work.
I smirk in disgust, though I don’t know if it’s at him or myself. God, I wonder if he left me a driver or if he expects me to like, cab it back to the city. What a fuckwad.
The appropriate thing to do at this point is to sneak out and do the walk of shame. Find my purse and cell phone and call for that cab—as if I even knew the address. But fuck that. He didn’t kick me out last night and he took the coward’s way out this morning with his disappearing act. And I’m not walking in my house with sex hair and still with the smell of him on my skin. I close my eyes and fight the sudden fierce urge to run back to the bed and inhale his pillow. I jerk my eyes back open, appalled at myself.
I look around the rest of the bathroom. Everything in here is very modern compared to the rest of the house. The shower looks like it has several rainwater spouts, but also jets of water that come sideways from the walls. I walk closer and inspect the little digital control panel beside the entrance. I only try a couple of buttons without any reaction before backing off.
Genius. I shake my head at myself—that’s right, the shower is too complicated for little ole’ me. I should have known how out of my league I was with this guy as soon as I stepped into that fucking limo last night.
But when I turn the corner of a small half wall, I see a Jacuzzi tub. It has a few buttons too, but I’ve used one of these before. Okay, so the one I used was only about a third of the size of this one, but still, the principles are probably the same, right? Last year, Shannon took Charlie and me along to a graphic design conference she went to. We got bumped to this awesome room because of some screw up with the hotel reservations. We stayed at the hotel all day and played in the pool, but what Charlie liked even better than the outdoor pool was the Jacuzzi tub in the room. Unlike a normal Jacuzzi, I could control the temperature of the water so it never got too hot. We put Charlie’s floaters on and he freaked out squealing and giggling every time we turned on the jets and bubbles.
The memory brings a smile to my face as I turn on the tub and start to fill it with water. It has four taps and they all start flowing at full force to fill the tub up quickly. I always swore that one day I’d have enough money to get a house with a Jacuzzi tub. It could be the ugliest-ass house ever, but it’ll have a top-of-the-line tub for my little boy.
My hand goes to my chest and I realize that for the second day in a row, I’m fighting back tears. Fucking tears. What the hell? Today I can’t even blame it on exhaustion. I don’t know what time it is, but I know I slept like the dead on that too-comfortable mattress.
I shake my head like I can physically shake away the feelings. I pick up the bottles that line the side of the tub. Shampoo and body soap, both very expensive looking.
Great. I’ll end up smelling like Jackson all day after all. Well Christ, at least I won’t have the sex hair. I’m sure I’ll get enough grief from Shannon as it is. I was so overwhelmed with everything last night, I just accepted it when Jackson said he called her and told her I’d be staying the night with him. But knowing Shannon, I’m sure while she was perfectly sweet and sugary on the phone, I’ll get the earful of judgment as soon as Charlie’s out of earshot. Irresponsible Callie showing her true colors again. God, I don’t want to think about any of it.
I’m glad when the water reaches the level indicated on the side and I can switch on the jets. I climb the little steps on the side and it feels like heaven when I sink down into the water. My body relaxes into the bubbling, steaming water.
I submerge my head and just stay there for several long moments, the real world and everything about it completely drowned out. Is this what it’s like when we’re in our mother’s womb? So quiet. All alone. No pressure, no expectation, just existing in silent communion with myself. Or maybe in connection with the whole world? That’s how the monks think of it, right? I’ve flirted with the ideas in some yoga I’ve done. Being connected to the entire world, down through my feet into the ground to the roots of the trees and then up through to th
e branches and the rain that soaks the leaves, all the way back up into the sky.
I surface and try emptying my mind. I take in several cleansing breaths of the bath-steamed air. Lord knows I could do with some grounding in my life. Underwater jets hit me from all sides, immediately relaxing my sore muscles. I lazily count to ten, releasing more and more tension with each breath.
Finally I stop counting and just keep breathing steadily in and out, closing my eyes and focusing only on the physical sensations of the moment. The two jets of water at my back massage tired muscles, and the swirl of water pulsing between my thighs eases the slight soreness there. My hand wanders down my body and I gently cup myself over my sex.
I wince—not because it hurts, but just because it’s so obvious that there was some definite activity there last night. After so long going without—ever since David left me before Charlie’s birth—what was it about Jackson that made me surrender? And surrender so completely?
Immediately images and memories of last night come flooding back in. His body over mine. His expert fingers. That mouth of his. My own hand, which had been only investigating a moment before, starts to massage. I keep my eyes closed as I bite my lip. Jackson might be done with me, but what’s the harm in one last little fantasy while I’m here, in his magnificent bathroom, his scents surrounding me?
I shift a little sideways so that the water jet that was hitting my hip is suddenly squarely directed where I need it most. I bite my lip harder to keep back the moan that’s fighting to come out. I’m sure any noise would echo like a motherfucker in this bathroom.
Jackson might be gone, but what if he has, like, a maid or something who hears and comes to inspect? I sink a little deeper in the water, adjusting my body so it’s even closer to the jet. No, this will be my own little secret that no one ever needs to know about.
Crush Me Page 18
