Jaden

by Shayne Ford

  “Fucked?”

  “Yes,” I say. “It no longer works.”

  He looks down again.

  His fingers trace my garter slowly, his knuckles brushing my skin. A shiver races down my back.

  I press my thighs together, my core softly pulsing.

  Gently, he runs his fingers between my legs, the back of his hand sliding onto the small strip of fabric. Tingles swirl between my thighs, goosebumps rising on my skin.

  “Why’d you meet him?”

  “I wanted to forget.”

  His eyes pull up to me.

  “To forget what?”

  “You,” I say with a broken voice.

  His eyes drop to my lips.

  He pulls his hand away from me and takes a step back, a wall of coldness rising between us.

  My legs are about to give in.

  Swiftly, his expression changes.

  “The only reason I am here,” he says with a flat voice, “is because I want to work for you... if the offer is still standing.”

  “Yes, it is,” I say, barely breathing.

  He muses over something, not looking overly excited. Not even pleasantly surprised.

  “Okay,” he says dryly and pauses again.

  My pulse throbs in my neck.

  “There’s only one thing,” he says, studying me openly. “I can’t afford to mess things up.”

  “How can you mess things up?”

  “Fucking you will mess up your head. And mine,” he says bluntly.

  “I’m not asking you to do anything. Our deal stands. I’m not going to offer you money for sex or make the job offer contingent upon sexual favors. The job is yours. Your life is yours. But, if and when you feel differently I don’t want you to hold back. I don’t want that tension between us. I already told you I’m not looking for romance. And you made it clear to me, you weren’t either...”

  He listens attentively, his eyes delving into mine. Slowly, he purses his lips and gives me a slow once over that spreads a firestorm through my skin.

  “For that to happen...” he says, and lifts his gaze. “I need to fuck you the way I want and when I want it.”

  I nod.

  “The way you want it... when you want it,” I say, wheezing.

  I’m pretty sure I just cut a deal with the devil.

  “Turn, then,” he says, taking me completely by surprise.

  My eyebrows flick up as I throw him a questioning look. He cocks his head to the side, daring me to comment. This battle is already lost. Let’s hope, I win the war.

  Silent, I spin around.

  “Put your hands on the wall.”

  I do as I’m told, and then I feel his palm gliding down on my back. He traces my spine until he meets the swell of my butt.

  Slowly, he traces the tight curves of my rear. His touch spurs tingles between my legs. I arch my back, and push my backside out, asking for more of his touch.

  He may be the giver, but I’m one hell of a taker.

  His hand goes lower, his fingers brushing the fabric between my legs, now damp from my arousal. Teasingly slow, he rubs my entrance and my folds.

  Goosebumps spread over my shoulders, his touch wreaking havoc deep inside me.

  He brings the other hand to my chest and slips his fingers inside my bra, cupping my left breast. His touch is soft and paced as if he weighs and analyzes every piece of me. As if he learns the way my body works.

  Deftly, he flicks the front buckle open and peels my bra off. He pulls my thong to the side, his fingers sliding straight into my slick, wet flesh.

  I push a moan back, only a silent gasp making it to my lips.

  He leans in, his hot breath rolling onto my shoulder, his lips coming closer to my ear.

  “How does it feel?” he asks, his heat transferring to me.

  His fingers trace between my legs from my entrance to my clit. He keeps stroking me, spurring more wetness in my core. I part my legs–– even more, relishing the pleasurable sensation. My skin burns while my nipples turn to pebbles as his fingers enter me again.

  My center throbs around him, warm and wet, ready for him. I absorb him with heightened intensity, from his mixed scent of smoke and cologne to the warmth emanating from his skin.

  His lips come to my ear again.

  “See... It’s not that hard, babe,” he mutters, his lips grazing my earlobe softly.

  I could argue about how hard it was actually for me, but this is not the place or time.

  His fingers move in and out, his breaths getting heavier.

  I roll my hips against his touch, hungry to be filled.

  He pulls away for a moment and tears the panties off me. His zipper goes down with a metallic sound. I feel it on my spine. Burning as hot as hell, I press my chest against the wall trying to cool off.

  Waiting.

  He pulls closer to me again.

  One arm curls around me, the other easing his erection in. He enters me slowly, and then he drives his cock into me hard.

  Oh… my God.

  He stills, and my core starts hugging him. Hot and wet. Filled with tension, pleasure and a rising need for relief.

  “Jaden...” I call him softly, and he drives himself into me again, my body almost breaking against his.

  I moan, pulsing around his hardness, my hips shaking against him. We stay locked for another moment.

  “I knew you needed it badly,” he mutters, his lips grazing my hair this time.

  He pulls back and thrusts with force, crashing both of us against the wall. A curse escapes my lips. His soaked fingers slip into my mouth.

  “Stay quiet, baby.”

  His voice courses through me, husky and raw, and every fiber of my body turns into pleasure and ecstasy.

  He thrusts again, and again, while I close my mouth around his fingers, and lose control fast, submitting to him.

  He brushes my hair to the side, exposing the back of my neck and runs his tongue over my skin, grazing my flesh with his teeth. I arch and moan indulging in that sensation, and he slams into me again, biting my shoulder.

  My squeal ripples into the air, bouncing around the house. My pain is real and yet so pleasurable. I shake and tremble, aching for some relief. He crushes me under his weight and keeps ramming into me, my breasts filling his palms, his fingers clamping on my nipples.

  More fuel goes to my fire. I close my eyes, and squirm against him, curving my body, hungry for his thrusts. He keeps slamming harder and faster before he suddenly stops.

  I flip my eyes open, my breath catching in my throat.

  I could kill someone right now.

  His cock throbs inside me as I keep writhing against him, unable to stop my hips from grinding.

  “Please...” I beg.

  His fingers slip between my swollen folds.

  “Wet like fuck,” he mutters to himself, brushing my clit with his index finger, tapping it gently.

  It’s like the drop that breaks the dam. The tension peaks, and breaks in a split second, the scream crawling up my throat morphing into a crying moan.

  He starts pounding me again as I roll under a wave of mind-blowing pleasure, another orgasm barreling through me, and then he lets his body ride that high with me.

  15

  JADEN

  “You’re fucking perfect,” I mumble under my breath.

  “What did you say?” she asks, swiveling her head to me, surprised.

  Her hair is damp and stuck to her face and neck and tits, her skin glimmering with sweat.

  She’s still panting.

  “Um... Nothing,” I say as I look down at the swell of her ass grinding against my groin. The garters stretch across her flesh, my cock buried deep between her legs.

  I pull out, dripping cum.

  “So you’re sure about this?” I ask.

  “I don’t fuck anyone else anyway,” she rushes to clarify through gasps.

  Isn’t she the romantic?

  “Well... I no longer fuck in the stree
ts. I’ll let you know when I fuck someone else, ” I say, barely stifling a grin.

  Swiftly, she spins around to see me. She studies me for a second, and then she rolls her eyes, frustrated.

  “I can’t fucking wait,” she says.

  “Hey.”

  “All right... All right. I guess that’s what ‘exclusive’ means in your world,” she says, quoting the air.

  I laugh.

  “Yeah... That’s exclusive to me...”

  Purposely slow, she sashays to the bathroom, letting me take her in. And I do it methodically, my gaze licking her tight rear, the space between her legs, her pert breasts, and the teasing sway of her hips.

  The garters and the fuck me boots do her justice.

  If she has more of the same kind of attire in her closet, it’s gonna be a hell of a task to keep my cock in my pants. She returns to the living room with two towels. She wipes her smooth folds with one, and hands me the other one.

  I tilt my head back, my eyes distracted by her hard nipples.

  I slowly stretch a sly smile.

  “We should have a dress code,” I say.

  She grins.

  “Really?”

  “Mmm-hmm. Heels and garters for you.”

  Her eyes float over my torso before they dip to my groin.

  “And nothing for you,” she says, her eyes glinting with mischief.

  “No half measures, huh?”

  She shakes her head.

  “I like everything about you,” she says seriously, her eyes examining me as I run the towel over my groin.

  I slip my hand at the back of her hair and pull her to me. Our lips come dangerously close, not even a whisper apart.

  She blinks, taken by surprise, unexpected softness coming to her eyes.

  “I like the sound of that,” I say quietly.

  She studies me for a moment, her soft grin lighting up her eyes.

  My lips curve into a smile.

  “What is it, Senna?”

  Her arms curl around me.

  “You don’t need to do it roughly only for me.”

  “I know, baby. I don’t do it only for you. I like it rough,” I say and softly brush her lips with mine, relishing the small gasp and the quiver of her mouth.

  Her hands cup my face, her fingers weaving in my hair. I drop the towel, and snake my arm around her, my lips finding hers, locking them into a soft, gentle kiss. Her breaths shorten, her nipples pressing, hard against my chest.

  Reluctantly, I tear away, my gesture bringing desperation to her gaze.

  “You’re so fucked, baby,” I say, grinning, as her hands still frame my face. “You have to let go of me, now. I have to go the bathroom. All right?” I mutter with a mellow voice as if I talk to Emma.

  Her eyes glisten as she nods.

  “I’m not going anywhere. Good?”

  “Yes,” she says, a smile filling her eyes. I stare at her for a second, realizing that someone different watches me through her eyes. Someone young and innocent. A girl.

  “Do you have any food in this big house of yours?” I ask as I walk away and head to the bedroom.

  “Nothing cooked, and it’s too late to order. ”

  “That’s okay. We’ll find something.”

  Her eyes light up as I slide the plates onto the coffee table.

  “You don’t like anything formal, I gather,” I say pointing at the small coffee table nestled between the couches.

  “No, not really.”

  “How come?”

  “When I grew up my family had everything done by the book. Our lives were full of norms and rules, and we were all bound to them. The women were supposed to behave in a certain way. Man as well. Everything was planned, and proper. I hated it.”

  “Hmm,” I mutter as I take a seat next to her.

  We start eating.

  She takes small bites, taking the time to taste every morsel of food.

  “This is good. How come you know how to cook?”

  “I had no choice really.”

  “I never had the chance to learn. We always had chefs and people to serve us.”

  “The fucking life,” I mutter, musing over her words.

  She shifts her gaze to me, her whiskey eyes glinting in the soft light of the candles.

  “It’s not what it seems to be,” she says.

  “So what was so bad about it that it made you leave it all behind and go dumpster diving?”

  Her face blanches, her eyes turning dull.

  “I shouldn’t have asked you,” I say, quickly backing off.

  “No... No. It wasn’t only one thing,” she murmurs.

  I flick my eyes at her as I run a napkin over my lips. She looks at me, conflicted.

  “Why can’t you tell me?” I ask.

  “It’s not that easy...”

  She sets the fork on the plate breaking eye contact before she raises her gaze back to me.

  “You never told me about Sara and Emma...” she says.

  I lean back against the couch.

  “What would you like to know?”

  “Who are they?”

  “Who do you think they are?”

  “They’re your family...” she says.

  I give her a soft nod.

  “I’m not sure about Sara... but Emma...”

  She pauses as her voice gets shaky and her eyes get washed with tears.

  “She looks exactly like you...” she finally says.

  She averts her eyes, grappling with emotions.

  “Is she your daughter?” she finally asks, flicking her gaze back at me.

  Clashing thoughts roll over her face, the emotions flitting through her eyes. There’s hope, and a secret longing, a part of her soul shining through as well. All bring so much beauty to her face.

  I give her a small smile as I slowly shake my head.

  “Sara is my sister, and Emma is my niece,” I say softly.

  She looks at me as if this piece of information shifts her entire life. Her eyes widen in surprise as her hand slides to her mouth.

  “Oh, my God...” she murmurs, her eyes twinkling with a smile. “She looks just like you,” she says, washed with disbelief.

  I nod.

  “Yes. Emma and I look alike. And we both look like my mother.”

  Her grin drops from her lips.

  “Where is she? Your mother...”

  “She passed away.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “My father too.”

  “Oh... I’m truly sorry,” she says, pushing her plate to the side. “Was it an accident?”

  “Yeah... You can call it that.”

  “How old is Sara?”

  “Twenty-one.”

  “Oh...”

  “She got pregnant at seventeen. Emma’s almost three years old.”

  She glances down for a moment.

  “I thought so.”

  “You like kids?” I ask.

  She swings her eyes back to me.

  A small smile casts a glow over her face.

  “I’d lie if I say I do, but I like Emma. She’s the sweetest girl I’ve ever met.”

  “She is, isn’t she?”

  I smile at the memory of her. Senna’s eyes linger on me for a moment longer.

  “You really love her,” she says.

  “Yeah, I do. They have no one else... I don’t either. I couldn’t bear it if anything bad happened to them.”

  “What about Emma’s father?”

  “Jacob died in a motorcycle accident. The bike I ride was his. I rebuilt it and kept it, only because it was so dear to him. He was my best friend. Same age. We grew up together... Sara, Jacob and I.”

  I pause and glance down.

  “How come you ended up...?”

  She starts and stops. I raise my eyes.

  “On the streets?”

  Silent, she nods.

  “Life...” I mutter bitterly, slanting my gaze down for a moment. “Sometimes it’s not what you thin
k it is. People pass judgments all the time,” I say, staring vacantly at a candle. “They think that those who end up on the streets, or at the bottom of anything for that matter, are either lazy, stupid or make poor choices. It’s simpler than that actually. Life can turn to shit any fucking moment. I never asked for this. But I knew it was either Sara or me, and I couldn’t let her do what I’m doing.”

  I pull out a cigarette and light it up before I toss the lighter on the table.

  I take a drag off it and let out a stream of smoke.

  “It’s hard to believe, but at one point, our lives were normal, like everybody else’s. We had two loving parents, a nice home, and friends. We went to school. I didn’t care about money or anything else outside my little Universe. Within a year, we lost both parents. With no family left, it was either the streets or the foster homes. I was almost eighteen.”

  “You said she doesn’t know.”

  “We never talked about it. I had a job, but it didn’t bring enough money. The second job didn’t make a dent either. Not with two adults and a small child. Plus, I wanted her to get an education. It’s her dream. It was my mom’s. And dad's. For both of us, actually.”

  Tears pool in her eyes again. I smile faintly, take another drag and breathe out the smoke to the side before I speak again.

  “Jacob’s accident came close to Emma’s first anniversary. It broke Sara to pieces. It broke me as well. I never thought life could be such a fragile thing. One day you have everything, and then the next day you don’t. That’s hard to comprehend, especially at that age. His death changed everything for her and me, and decisions needed to be made. I started to go out and come home with extra cash. She didn’t ask, and I didn’t volunteer the information. But if I came home, cut and bruised, she’d figure out something was going on. The money you gave me after we spent time together in the Keys... I couldn’t give it to her all at once. I didn’t have an explanation for it.”

  She looks away, wiping a stray tear.

  “I’m sorry.”

  I shake my head slowly.

  “You don’t have to be sorry. This shit happens all the time, and yes, people do make bad choices, but usually because they take stuff for granted, and forget that in a sense, all things are borrowed. The time we have, the other’s people time, the love and kindness of someone. A child... Even a pet. Not all the people who are struggling are where they are because of poor choices. Sometimes, life just throws you in the dust. And never lets you rise back up. That’s all,” I say, dryly, while putting my cigarette out.