by Ivy Carter
“Ridiculous?” I say.
“Yes,” she agrees. “Totally.”
I don’t disagree with her. Being here with her in this big house, I realize that there is something I want, and something I need. Emily. I can see her living here with me, helping to fill up this big house with her light and energy. Maybe we’d even get a dog. I don’t want her to leave my arms, let alone my house. It could work. Emily and I together could work, if she’d have me, apropos of my father’s last demands of who will take over the company. If I married Emily—God, I can’t believe these thoughts are running through my mind—but if I married her it would mean I would get the company. But maybe I don’t care about that. Right now, all I care about it making Emily happy.
Emily
I wake slowly to a hard pressing against my ass. Instinctively, I push myself back. I know what that is, and I want more of it.
I’d fallen asleep in Jackson’s arms, warm from the fire and his body cupping mine. I feel like I’m still in a dream as his hardness, still covered by his boxer briefs, pushes into my bare ass.
This is a place I’d fantasized about being—in Jackson’s arms, his body on mine. Even though it’s real, I keep my eyes closed, just in case I’m dreaming.
When I feel Jackson’s lips nuzzling me deep in my neck, I know it’s real. And this time when he kisses me, I don’t laugh. In fact, I’m already wet, wondering how it’s possible to have so much lust in me. Has it been inside me all these years, just waiting for the right man with the key to opening me up? I never thought it’d be someone like Jackson, but I’m not complaining. Especially not now as his hands move over my hips, pulling me closer to him.
He pulls me onto my back and climbs above me. He rubs his hard dick up against my exposed pussy, pumping me slowly as I groan. He’s pushing me open, the tip of his covered cock nudging my hole before teasing my clit.
The fire is warm beside me, but the press of Jackson’s body on top of me sends lightening through my body. I need him inside me. I can’t wait. I push down his boxer briefs, and before I can even get him in my hand he pauses above me.
“Are you sure?” he asks. His hair falls over his forehead, hovering past his brows. I brush it out of his eyes.
“Positive,” I say.
He strips them off. My breath catches when I take him in my hand. His cock is huge, a steel-hard giant, so long and thick. How can I take him inside me? I pull him slowly in my hand, getting used to the size. He moves his hips with me, his eyes fallen shut.
I press his long cock against the length of my pussy. Jackson lowers himself to his forearms and rocks back and forth against me, soaking his dick in my wetness, so close to entering me but not going for it yet. His hips and dick press into me as his mouth and hands work the rest of me. His kisses cover my neck as his hand rubs my breasts gently as his thumb grazes across my hard nipple. I arch my back, eager for him to take me in his mouth again, and he complies, sucking my full tit as his dick works it way across my clit. I cry out; I need more.
“Jackson,” I say, my head spinning with all the ways he’s making my body feel. I reach down and take him in my hand. I guide his soaked dick to my hole, rubbing it across the outside of my wet entrance.
“Are you sure? You’re ready?” His fingers glide across my cheek, his eyes looking closely into mine. I can only nod my head yes. He kisses me fully on my lips, his tongue digging into my eager mouth. He takes his dick back in his hand and puts the tip inside me. He pulls his face back to look at me, making sure I’m okay. When he pushes in slowly, just a tiny bit more, I gasp out as my cunt walls stretch to accommodate all that cock. He kisses my face before he slides in a little more, slowly, until he’s all the way inside, filling me completely, my walls stretched further than ever. I press my legs out as much as I can. There’s a slight pain between my legs, like a tear of my skin, but the sensations of his dick slipping slowly in and out of me far out weight any pain I might feel.
He pumps me a little faster bit by bit, always watching my face to make sure I’m okay. The more he pushes into me the better it feels until any small pain is far in the past. When he says my name I move my hips up to him, wanting to take more of him. Soon I’m bucking up as his dick slams into me, our sweaty skin slapping against each other. His dick fills and pumps me, harder and harder until we can’t take it anymore. When we come I feel my walls clench as fire explodes in my stomach, my fingers digging into Jackson’s skin. He’s only a moment behind me, his come bursting inside me as he pumps until the very end.
His body collapses on top of me, both of us heaving, trying to catch our breaths. When he moves off me, sliding his dick out with a moan, warm liquid runs down my thigh.
“Do you have any idea how good you are?” he says. He pulls a pillow under his head as I tug the blanket back over my body.
“I didn’t do anything,” I say. “I feel bad. You did all the work.”
“I promise, it is not work. Although if it was, I’d definitely sign up for a full-time position.” He cuddles close to me, our naked bodies warming each other along with the fire and blankets. I take his hand, which is resting on my stomach under the blankets, and hold it. We fall asleep to the crackling of the fire and our satisfied breathing.
The next time I wake up the pale sun is streaming through the bay window and the smells of fresh cooking wafts over me. The fire has been revived and the house is warm. I gather myself up in a sheet that’s tangled around me and follow my nose into the kitchen.
“Good morning, beauty,” Jackson greets me as he flips pancakes. “You hungry?”
“I’m starving,” I say. “You cook?”
“A little,” he says. “I love good food, as you know—the restaurant. And I’ve picked up some things here and there from chefs I’ve talked to, including Chef Barton. Sit down.” He motions to the stool on the other side of the island where he’s prepping. He slides a bowl of cut fruit to me—pineapple, red grapes and strawberries. “Coffee?”
“Please,” I say, tucking into the fruit. “This kitchen is gorgeous.” It’s bright with white cabinets and a white marble countertop and stainless steel appliances. A large window at the back looks out onto a garden.
“I don’t get to use it as much as I’d like,” he says, serving up a fresh cup of French press. “Milk? Sugar?”
“Just sugar, thanks,” I say. “More evidence that you need to use this house more. Needs more life in it.”
He smiles. He looks so carefree when he smiles. The buttoned-up, tense, calculating face that I’ve seen too many times disappears when he smiles. I want to be the one who makes him smile more often.
“Maybe that can be arranged,” he says. He winks at me, and I melt. Damn, he is sexy, even in his gray T-shirt and flannel pants. “You like eggs and bacon?”
“Yes,” I say. “Sounds like a lot of food.” I gesture to the fluffy stack of pancakes he’s moving to the island and the fruit bowl I’m working on.
“Just wanted to make sure you were well fed,” Jackson says. “I don’t know what you like.”
I look down at the fruit, blushing. He definitely knows what I like, but I suppose not of the breakfast-food variety. If he weren’t standing in front of a hot oven, I might climb across the island and attack him right here.
“I brought down some clothes for you to wear,” Jackson says. He moves to a chair and picks up a folded pile of clothes. “Although I have to say, the sheet looks stunning wrapped around you. Makes me want to take it right off you.”
“So why don’t you?”
“Don’t make me lose focus when I’m working so hard on this breakfast for you,” he says, although it’s clear from the look in his eyes that he wants me, right now.
“Fine,” I say, and I get to up to inspect the clothes. They’re his, so they’ll be gigantic on me. I do want to tease him a little though, so I drop the sheet off my body in full view of him.
“Emily…”
“What?” I say innocently, exposing m
y nude body to him. “I’m changing. Like you said.”
“You’re going to make me burn your breakfast.”
“No one is making you do anything,” I say.
His eyes roam my body, which he knows so well now. I turn my back to him and bend over dramatically to pick up a shirt from the chair. I look over my shoulder at him and yep, he’s still watching me. His hand flips a knob on the oven and in two strides he’s got me turned around and gathered up in his arms. His mouth crashes into mine and we cling to each other as if we hadn’t just spent all night with our hands and tongues exploring every inch of each other. His hand cups my breast, and he pulls away from my mouth and sucks my nipple so that I’m already groaning, my fist in his hair, pushing him into me. He really knows how to work that tongue.
In quick time he flips me around again and has my stomach up against the island, pushing me down by the back of my neck so that I’m bent over, ass up, ready for him.
“Is this what you wanted me to do?” he asks, his voice heavy with breath. He keeps on hand on my back and I can feel him digging in his flannel pants, pulling his dick out for me.
“Yes,” I say, arching my back so that my ass perks up for him. “Take me, Jackson.”
“Spread your legs.”
I do as he says, the cold marble helping to cool down my hot skin. I rest my flushed cheek on it. With no warning I feel his dick at my entrance, so used and stretched from the last twelve hours, and so wet just from the sight of him this morning. Jackson thrusts his enormous cock inside me, and I cry out in pleasure. He holds my hips and continues his slow, powerful pumping into my needy cunt, his soft grunts making me wish I could see him. Feeling him fill me up, picturing his contorted face as he digs into me is enough to make me groan at every thrust. I match his rhythm as I jerk back my hips to push more of him into me. He’s on me in just the right spot now, and our animal grunts are in sync as he takes me so close.
“I’m close, I’m close,” he says.
“Yes,” I say, and together we speed up, slamming our bodies into each other until we’re both crying out, feeling the release together.
“God.” Jackson collapses over on my back, both of us sweating in such a short moment. I can feel his breath on my wet skin, instantly drying it. “You are a dangerous woman.”
He pushes himself up and slides out of me. He pulls his pants back up and his face is flushed and he’s smiling and satisfied and so happy. I reach out and put my hand on his cheek, prickly with a growing beard but I know how soft he is beneath. I brush his jaw with my thumb. My feelings for him are going into overdrive—maybe something to do with the fact that we were just intimate, and have been for the last twelve hours or so. Whatever it is, I want to tell him how I feel about him, how much I care for him and want him to be happy. I want to be the one who makes him happy. But I can’t say anything if I don’t truly know what these feelings are, or where they are going.
So I all I say is, “Now where’s the rest of my breakfast?”
He tips his head back and laughs. Me, making him smile. That makes me smile.
He puts on an oven mitt and pulls a tray from the oven. Two white ramekins are filled with spinach and bacon, some kind of white cheese and, on top of each, an egg.
Jackson gently pokes each of the eggs with his finger. “Ha. Only overcooked them a little,” he says proudly.
I finally put on the clothes as well as socks and big jacket and we carry our breakfast up a set of twisting back stairs that lead to the rooftop terrace. Because of course he has a rooftop terrace. With a view of the Charles River.
“Whoa,” I say as we set everything down. The early fall air is cool and crisp, and it’s going to be a sunny day. We can see early-morning rowers out on the river, the water sparkling in the morning light. “This is stunning.”
He looks around the terrace as if he’s inspecting it. “Yeah, I guess.”
“You guess? This alone is as big as my apartment.”
“Why do you live in a one-room apartment?” he asks.
“Please don’t tell me you’re that out of touch with reality, Jackson,” I say. “I’m a grad student. Working even part time is kicking my butt so it’s all I can afford.”
“Well,” he says. “I have plenty of rooms in this place. You should just move into one of them. Won’t even charge you rent.”
He’s joking, but he doesn’t realize it’s a bit of a cruel joke. But whatever, I just give it back to him.
“Great, I’ll start moving in tomorrow,” I say. Sure, I think. I can see myself living here. “But I’ll expect a breakfast like this every morning.”
We finish up our food—the egg-in-a-dish thing was outstanding. Jackson was right, the eggs were only slightly cooked through but I’m not sure the dish would have been that much better if they’d been running, like he intended. We make it through most of the pancakes and a little of the fruit. Basically, we’re stuffed, feeling full and mellow as the sun warms the day.
He reaches out for me. “Come over here.” I gladly do as he requests, and he pulls me onto his lap and wraps his arms around me. We sit and stare at the view, not speaking, not needing to.
“Excuse me, Mr. Croft,” a woman’s voice says from the terrace door, startling me. Not Jackson. He turns to the woman and says, “Good morning, Eliza.”
She’s wearing a boxy blue dress with buttons down the front. I think it might be a housekeeper’s uniform.
“I’m sorry to disturb you. I guess they tried your cell phone but it’s the office. They’ve called the house phone. Sandra needs you urgently at the office.”
“Oh, Christ,” he mutters. “Okay. Thank you, Eliza. Could you call Sandra back and tell her I’ll be there in twenty minutes?”
“Of course,” she says before heading back down.
I didn’t expect to stay here all day—I wanted to, but didn’t expect to. But Jackson having to leave so suddenly—and still so early—is a bummer to say the least. I begin to get up from his lap but he pulls me back.
“I don’t want to leave you,” he says.
“I don’t want you to go,” I say. “But work calls.” I wonder if work will always call, and if he’ll always go running.
He kisses me softly. Our lips linger, neither of us wanting to break. He caresses my cheek.
“I better get in the shower,” he says. “Sandra can fend those corporate wolves off for a while but I don’t want to leave her hanging.”
“Of course,” I say, getting up from his lap. I begin picking the breakfast dishes but Jackson says, “Leave all that. Eliza will get it.”
I suppose I hoped I could hang around while he got dressed. I pictured myself watching him shower through a steamy glass door, but he has Eliza arrange for a car to take me back to Allston before he heads upstairs to get dressed. I don’t want to admit that it feels a bit like a dismissal but…maybe a little.
He holds my face and kisses me again before he goes. “I’ll call you. Okay?”
I nod okay. Yes, call me, I think. Please call me.
When I get home to my terrace-sized studio apartment, I certainly see my surroundings in a whole new light. As I stand in Jackson’s oversized clothes, my heels and dress in one hand, I wonder if I’m out of my mind. The worlds that we come from and live in could not be more different. I never thought of my studio as such a hobble but now he’s got me thinking I’m living the slum life. He doesn’t seem to get that living alone in something like an eight-thousand square foot house is ludicrous, a complete waste of space. Even if we did live together—and I know we never would, but I’m just thinking—that if we did we’d probably never see each other. I’d be too busy getting lost in that big house while he would be too busy with work, making more deals and putting out more fires.
I wonder what interests him besides work? Food, I learned that. But he has no one to cook for. My mind can’t help but wonder if he’s made breakfast for other women like he did for me. I hate the thought. I hate that it enters
my mind.
As I shower and get ready for the day, I hope that Jackson doesn’t disappear like he did last time. Last night was far different from the restaurant, deeper and more intense. He can’t blow me off again. Despite being polar opposites, I really want to see him again.
The words had formed on my lips after our pre-breakfast tryst but I swallowed them down. What I wanted to say was, I love you. Or at the very least, I’m falling in love with you. Because against better judgment, that is what’s happening to me.
So, yeah. I really hope he calls.
Jackson
“Jackson, does that work for you?”
I turn and look at the conference room full of people staring back at me. I’d been staring out at the rain falling over the harbor, thinking about Emily. Maybe when clear skies come back I could take her out on the boat for a couple of days. Being alone in the sea with Emily where no one can reach sounds perfect. Except first I have to get through these meetings. Five, back to back, all day.
“Should Deon contact Melissa and arrange the meeting? Or did you want to reach out to her directly?”
“Deon, you can contact her,” I say to Deon, as if I’ve been paying close attention this whole time. The looks I’m getting from around the room say they know better. “Let Sandra know when it’s set up. We’ll do a lunch meeting, keep it casual. Anything else?”
When the meeting ends, the first thing I do when I get back to my office is send a text to Emily. It’s been a few days since I last saw her. I had to spend the weekend working out the crisis that came up, but this time I made sure to call her after our incredible night. It was late on Friday night, but I figured she wouldn’t mind.
“Did I wake up?” I asked when she answered, her voice soft and quiet. The thought of her in bed instantly made me crazy.
“No,” she’d said. “I was just studying.”
“Liar.”
She laughed softly. “Okay, I was sleeping. At eleven on a Friday night. How lame am I?”
