Fighting for Phoebe

by Jennifer Ann

  “Stop,” she pleads, her gaze locked with mine.

  Then she’s in my face and hooking a leg over my lap to straddle me, drawing every last drop of blood in my body down to my cock. I’m unable to move as her fingers swiftly go to work in removing my shirt. Sucking her bottom lip inside her mouth, her beautiful eyes widen as they sweep over my bare chest. Slow, heavy breaths fall from her lips when her eyes draw back up to meet mine.

  Leaning in, her still braless tits only separated from my skin by her thin shirt, she whispers directly into my ear, “Unless you’re running from a wife and a family, I don’t want to hear any more bullshit excuses. I just want to feel something good for a change. Something good inside of me. Namely that giant cock you’re wielding.”

  Fuck it. A loud growl rips from my chest when I take a handful of sandy hair in my fist and possess her mouth, slipping my tongue through her sweet little lips and gripping onto her ass with my other hand. Her tongue laps against mine as her hips begin to gyrate, rubbing her warm pussy over my raging hard-on. She kisses like someone in desperate need, like her life depends on making a human connection. She may possibly be more lonely than I am.

  Moaning, I wrap her in one of my arms and push forward, throwing her down on the couch. Her legs cling around my waist like a little monkey, making it difficult to get her naked the way I want. One arm braced to the couch so as not to crush her, I pry one of her legs off my back and fumble for the button on her jeans. Understanding what I want, her breaths grow heavier in my mouth and she drops her other leg while digging her nails into my scalp.

  Once she’s wiggled out of her jeans, I stop for a fleeting moment to appreciate the artistic drawing of an ethereal woman with flowing blue hair inked on her thigh and the little saying written just above her pelvic bone. No one can dull my shine. Groaning with the breath-taking beauty of her body, I snake a hand beneath her panties and seek out her heavenly warmth. When two of my fingers easily sink inside, she whimpers and grips my arm as I go to work with light, teasing strokes against her clit. Twisting my tongue around hers, I make my kisses every bit as playful.

  “Jaaace…”

  My name coming from her greedy little lips sounds more like a mix between a prayer and a plea to make her come. Knowing she’s lost in a world of euphoria, I take the opportunity to nudge her t-shirt aside and seek out a hardened nipple beneath her shirt, rolling it back and forth between my fingers.

  “Bite it,” she gasps in a desperate cry, wriggling from my touch. “Please, dear god, bite it like you mean it.”

  Her confidence makes my dick steely hard, makes me want her more. I bend to cup her full breast in my hand and take its hardened nub between my teeth.

  “Harder! Don’t be afraid to bite it off!”

  With her plea, I clamp down so hard that I fear I’ll draw blood. Phoebe’s sensual moans fill the little apartment as she bucks and twists with the increased thrusts of my fingers between her legs. There’s a tearing noise as I drag her shirt down and seek out the other nipple, giving it the same treatment as the last.

  Panting like someone finishing a marathon, her hands alternate between clawing at my scalp and bracing against my shoulders while she continues calling out in incoherent, stuttered noises. When the need to taste her and feel her come against my mouth becomes blinding, I trail my lips down the soft skin of her belly and scoop her ass up off the couch. She releases a nearly breathless gasp when I sink my tongue deep inside her sopping wet pussy, continuing where my hand left off. I’m ready to come with the divine taste of Phoebe filling my mouth as my tongue probes around her soft walls, making her body quiver.

  “Oh, hell yes,” she pants, sinking her nails into my scalp to guide my head. “You feel so damn good, just like I thought you would.”

  Chuckling to myself, my fingers join in with my mouth, toying with the slick walls that grow warm and shutter with my touch. I’m far from gentle when I suck her pulsating clit into my mouth, and not surprised when her hips raise to the ceiling and she releases an approving cry.

  “Bite me there too, you big, beautiful man! Bite it like you mean it!”

  By the time I scrape my teeth over the delicate nub, I’m not so sure she has a breaking point when it comes to pain. She’s a dirty girl who likes it hard and fast to the point of ruin. And from the agreeable sounds vibrating deep inside her throat, it’s clear she’s so damn close to shattering.

  I continue my assault on her body, testing the fine limits between pleasure and torture. With every nip and tug, she becomes a little more liquefied and her noises of gratification would indicate she craves more. Her body’s a finely tuned instrument, capable of delightful music with each of my touches. I’ve never met a woman who wants it so rough, or was so sure of herself. The need to flip her on her stomach and pound into her with everything I’ve got claws up my throat until I’m sure I’ll choke to death.

  But why the fuck does she like it so rough? Did someone make her this way?

  “Oh, god…oh, Jace!” All at once her feet brace against the couch, pushing her pussy hard into my mouth as she wails one last time and links her fingers with mine. I look up in time to watch her head fall back and her eyes close while her ass cheek jumps and vibrates inside my other hand. It’s quite possibly the most arousing visual I’ve been afforded in my lifetime.

  Though I haven’t had enough rum to catch anything more than a small buzz, I’m drunk on watching her get off and immediately want to do it again. And again. Pleasuring someone as strong as Phoebe fills me with a renewed sense of purpose, a reason to keep going. It’d be dangerous and stupid as shit to form an attachment of any kind, but just how long can I continue to run before my luck runs out? What if I stopped long enough to enjoy the remainder of whatever life I have to live before they find me?

  There’s no doubt in my mind she wants me to possess her still quaking body when her big brown eyes finally flip open and seek me out. I hover over her, continuing to question my next move as I study her flushed face. She’s undeniably gorgeous, sexy, smart, and brave in a way unlike anyone I’ve met. Yet I really know nothing about her.

  Could she survive the hell I’d bring into her life? Could I survive letting her in?

  “Don’t you dare leave me hanging like this,” she whispers, as if able to hear my thoughts.

  Before I can protest, she sits up to meet me and hooks an arm around my neck. Her hot little mouth covers mine, begging for more while tasting herself. This time she throws me down on the couch and rubs against me with urgency as her tongue turns along with mine. When one of her pebbled nipples scrapes over my skin, I bite down hard on her lip, fighting the need to release before we’ve even started.

  The painful throbbing of my dick overpowers any doubts as I reach for the button on my jeans, beyond ready to give her what she wants. She coos in approval as her greedy little fingers find the exposed band on my boxer-briefs.

  Groaning, I grind my hips into her with anticipation. “You’ve got me so goddamn hot, gorgeous. I can’t wait to lose myself in you.”

  Frantic banging on her front door breaks us apart like the blast of an IED. “Phoebe?” a woman calls out. “Phoebe! Are you okay in there?”

  Phoebe springs from the couch and begins throwing her clothes on like the place is consumed in fire. I’m disoriented for a minute, having been so close to fulfilling the burning need to sink myself deep inside her that I can only lay there and watch until she throws my shirt at me.

  “You have to get dressed!” she whispers with wild eyes. “It’s my fucking mom!”

  “Make her go away,” I growl, sitting upright with my shirt sitting in my lap. “I’m not done with you. Not by a long shot.”

  “Ohhhh….hellll…” Her body becomes limp as a noodle as she glances between me and the door. “You have no idea how incredibly hot that makes me to hear you say that, but you don’t know Ellen. There’s no ignoring her. I apologize in advance for what you’re about to witness.”

  “
Phoebe, I heard screaming!” her mom yells, banging harder on the door. “Answer me or I’m calling the cops!”

  Christ. Running a hand through my hair, I throw Phoebe a nod. “Better let her in.”

  As she starts for the door, I adjust my dick and throw my shirt back on, wondering if fate does have a hand in this night after all. Something is determined to stop us from hooking up.

  5

  Phoebe

  Countless times people have mistaken Ellen for my older sister, and with good reason. She’s exactly the same height as I am with my same shade of sandy blonde hair—apart from my blue tips—and every feature of our faces is almost like looking into a mirror, only she’s beginning to wrinkle in places where my skin is still tight. The only noticeable differences are the thickness beginning to settle around her middle and the fake tits she conned an older man into buying a few years back.

  Though she’s wearing a kimono robe, it’s loose and thin, revealing the healthy swells of her breasts, stopping a mere millimeter from her tits. And it’s so short that it only covers a sliver of her thighs. I become sick to my stomach when her eyes rake up and down Jace. I think it’s physically impossible for a man to not find Ellen attractive, and she’s basically baring it all to someone I was two seconds from knowing in the biblical sense. The way she’s taking her time ogling, appreciating every inch of him, it’s obvious she finds him just as attractive as I had on first glance. Not only am I screwed, but for what feels like the thousandth time, I want to wrap my fingers around her pretty neck.

  “Well hello, darlin’,” she sings, raising her eyebrows as he rises from the couch. “Who might you be?”

  “A friend of your daughter’s,” he answers, dipping his chin in greeting.

  Despite the warmness to his words and the gentle smile twitching across his lips, I get the feeling he’s hiding more than he’s willing to let on. Now that he’s given me the orgasm of a lifetime, I’m scared as shit that his skittish behavior has something to do with another woman—one that would kick anyone’s ass who dared to mess with her man.

  “You must be the reason I was sure my baby girl was up here being murdered,” Ellen says to him with a flirty smirk. “Doesn’t sound so friendly to me.”

  Baby girl? Does she think that will make her sound younger? “Sorry we woke you,” I mumble, wishing she’d leave already.

  She pushes past me as if drawn to Jace like a magnet. “That must be your motorcycle in the driveway. Looks like you’re having a bad night.”

  “I drove through a construction sight a few blocks down the road,” he says quickly, cutting me a look of warning. “Must’ve driven over a couple of nails.”

  While I agree that getting Ellen involved in the shit with Decker will only make things worse on a number of levels, Jace seems desperate to keep the cops away. What exactly is he running from?

  “That’s a shame,” Ellen purrs. “I’ve done some riding in my day and wouldn’t mind another go. It’s been far too long.”

  Oh my god! Could she be any more obvious?

  Looking down at his feet, Jace clears his throat and shoves a hand into his pocket.

  “Now that you know there was no blood shed, you can go back to bed,” I say to Ellen, feeling my face burn with a blush.

  Ellen’s eyes, a slightly darker shade of my own, cut to the strewn blanket and pillows on the couch before returning to Jace. There’s no mistaking the desire in her gaze. “Does she have you sleeping on the couch? There’s a spare bed in the house that would be much more comfortable. I have the entire place to myself.”

  “Thank you, ma’am, but I’d rather stay close to Phoebe,” he replies politely, passing me a slightly heated glance that turns my legs to jelly.

  “Don’t call me ma’am!” she insists, laughing. “I’m hardly more than a decade older than Phoebe. Please, call me Ellen or El.” In a well-rehearsed move, her thick lashes flutter when she smiles over a lifted shoulder. “And unless you want to give me your name, I’ll simply call you beautiful.”

  As expected, Jace doesn’t correct her by offering his name. He’s definitely on the run from something or someone. Maybe it’s just one more reason why fate brought us together, even if he’s unwilling to admit it.

  Refusing to accept defeat, Ellen claps her hands together. “Well in that case, I must insist you both come inside so I can whip you up something to eat. Can’t let you go to bed on an empty stomach after you’ve been drinking.” The look she gives me is filled with a silent warning to comply or else. Does she think having Jace here as a guest somehow puts her in danger, or does she actually see him as a target? “Don’t be rude, Phoebe,” she adds.

  “Yeah, that sounds great,” I reply, hoping she can’t hear the hitch in my voice.

  “Great!” she replies too brightly, taking backwards steps toward the door. “Come on down, it will only take a minute to get some eggs and bacon going.”

  I throw her a forced smile. “We’ll be there in a minute.”

  “I look forward to getting to know you better,” she tells Jace, winking.

  Then as suddenly as she appeared, she’s gone, leaving me in an awkward stare-down with Jace. He takes a step toward me, his eyebrows drawn into an angry V. “What the fuck was that about?”

  “Please don’t ask questions,” I plead, shaking my head. I wrap my arms around my waist and back away from him, wishing I could simply disappear instead. “Just believe me when I say it’s easiest to do whatever makes her happy.”

  His nostrils flare. “Does she always blatantly hit on men you bring home?”

  “Don’t know,” I spit back. “You’re the only one I’ve brought here other than Decker.”

  “I didn’t mean it to sound that way.” Running both hands over his face, he glances to the door like he’s expecting her to come back inside. “I really wanted to spend the rest of the night with you. Alone.”

  Though I also want nothing more than to pick up where we left off, I’m not willing to start a war with Ellen. Not with Jace here. So I start for the door, dragging my feet the entire way. “I believe The Stones said it best. ‘You can’t always get what you want’.” I motion with my head for him to follow. “Come on, she’s not the world’s worst cook.”

  Jace is behind me and grabbing onto my arm so suddenly that it takes my breath away.

  “I don’t know what’s going on with you and your mom,” he whispers, covering my face in his warm breath, “but I don’t like it.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I reply, drawing my eyes up to lock with his intense gaze. “Once your tires are fixed, you’ll be gone and I’ll be nothing more than a fuzzy memory.”

  Breaking free, I start down the steps by myself without waiting to see if he’s following.

  After we’ve finished eating, I splash water on my face in the privacy of the guest bathroom among the din of Ellen’s spirited voice from the other room. Though she was relentless in attempting to pry information out of Jace, he held his ground and expertly avoided any questions about his personal life. Part of me wanted to high-five him for avoiding the wrath of Ellen Matthews while another part wanted to tell him to hit the ground running and forget his damn motorcycle.

  Watching her work him like any other target, laughing and carrying on like nothing was wrong, was beyond sickening. Worse than someone with a serious arachnophobic watching a black widow lure prey into her web. Not only did Jace seem increasingly irritated by her determination, but he kept throwing me looks that made me wonder if he was ready to drag me the hell away from here. I secretly willed him to do it.

  Setting both hands on the sink, I stare at my dripping face in the mirror. What was I thinking when I invited Jace to stay with me? Did I really expect Ellen to keep her nose out if it and let me live my own life? She’s ten times worse than a black widow: she’s a leech that won’t stop until it’s sucked everything good about my life completely dry.

  “Phoebs?” Ellen calls out from the other side of the door, light
ly tapping her knuckles against the wood. “I’d like a word with you.”

  My stomach plummets to the floor as I start for the handle, knowing what’s coming next. I find her standing on the other side with a hand resting on a cocked hip, scowling in displeasure.

  “Not now,” I plead.

  Releasing an ill-humored laugh, she budges her way in and slams the door behind us. “I can’t wait to hear the story behind why there’s a beautiful man standing in my kitchen who doesn’t seem to have a dime to his name.”

  “Because you invited him in,” I reply dryly, grabbing a towel to blot my face.

  “Did you not learn your lesson after Decker? Men are scum, sweetheart. Well, with the exception of your brother, of course, but he left us too.”

  “That’s rich. You hide Logan’s pictures like you’re ashamed of who he was and you refuse to talk about him, but you’ll bring his name up to back your argument?”

  “You’re missing the point, sweetheart. Just because this man has a beautiful face and a smoking hot body doesn’t mean he’ll be any different from the rest.”

  “Would you keep your voice down?” I snap, grabbing her by the arm. “It’s embarrassing enough that you showed up on my doorstep when I was enjoying myself for the first time in forever. In case you have forgotten, I’m a grown woman. I’m capable of making mistakes on my own.”

  The way her eyes darken and her mouth draws tight, it’s crystal clear this is a fight she has no intention of letting me win. “In case you have forgotten, I’ve put a roof over your head for all of your twenty-four years. Maybe I should go out there and tell your little guest just exactly what you've done for me.”

  I can feel every last bit of color drain from my face with her threat, knowing full well nothing’s holding her back from doing it. How in the hell have I put up with this woman for so long? What’s wrong with me that I can’t just walk away?