by Aria Ford
“It’s raining,” he said redundantly. “I can’t leave you out here.”
I smiled. “Thank you.” He looked surprised that I’d accepted so easily. I laughed. “I accept. I guess you’re not a mass murderer or something?” I asked casually as we walked back toward the stoplight, where his car was still parked. He unlocked it, then stared at me.
“Sorry?” he burst out laughing. “Am I what?”
“Well,” I said, impatient. It wasn’t a stupid question. “You could be. Out here alone in the dark, stopping to help me. Why should I trust you?”
He sighed. “Good question. I don’t know.” He shook his head. “I can’t prove I’m not, can I? We could go to the police station and ask them to do a clearance, but it’s late and it’s dark and I don’t think we want to do that. Without that, could you trust me?”
I put my head on one side and looked at him. It was cold and the rain was getting down the back of my neck. He had kind eyes, I decided. And the way he was looking at me, so hesitant, as if he expected me to slap him and run away, decided me.
“I’ll try.”
He smiled. A big smile this time. It lit up his eyes, crinkling them at the corners. He had a smooth face apart from the faint trace of lines around his eyes and I guessed him to be no more than four years older than me—at the most. He looked happy with my reply.
“Thanks,” he said humbly. “Now do you think we could get in? It’s really wet out here and we’ll get cold.”
I laughed. “Thanks.”
He slid into the driver’s seat and I got in and shut the door. It was only when I was sitting there, perched awkwardly on the seat, that I realized it was a leather seat and the dashboard was beautifully matte and intimidating and the car was easily the most stylish one I’d seen.
I looked at him shyly. He looked back. Who was this guy? Oddly, he looked equally shy. Why? He looked like Prince Charming and drove whatever this car was…why would he, of all people, be shy? Anyway—for whatever reason it was clearly up to me to break the silence.
“Sorry,” I said with a laugh. “I guess I should say something. I’m Jackie Jefferson.”
“Oh.” He smiled. “Rude of me—I’m Scott West.”
“Hi, Scott,” I said, holding out a hand. He shook it. His hand was warm, the grip muscled and firm. It felt nice on my hand. I shivered and our eyes met.
Was it my imagination, or was there a little glint in those eyes? It wasn’t because I was cold that I was shivering. The car was warm and my toes were thawing nicely. It was the way he looked at me that made me shift awkwardly in my seat, taking back my hand.
He looks like he wants me.
It was a surprise. I was not what I considered a beauty. Compactly-built with a gentle-looking face and big boobs, I always thought the boobs were my chief—my only—attraction. But under my winter coat he couldn’t see them. He could only see, well, me.
“Ahem.” I cleared my throat, trying to concentrate on the matter at hand. “Sorry, I nearly crashed into you back there. Were you on your way somewhere?” I asked.
“Not exactly,” he said. “Just going home.”
“Oh.”
I glanced sideways at him. He was wearing a very expensive-looking suit in navy blue, the shirt white and screaming designer wear. His hair was styled immaculately and he smelled of a rich, spicy cologne, the smell of which was doing something odd to my loins. If this is what he wears to work, well…he doesn’t work on this side of town, anyhow.
“I took a detour,” he explained smoothly. “Now, I need to ask you something. Where can I take you?”
I cleared my throat again, banished the distractions from my mind and said, very properly, “Eight Camden Way, please.”
He nodded. “We should stop and put that in the GPS.” He swerved off the road at the next stopping place and reached for the GPS. As he fiddled about in the glove box, his hand brushed my thigh. I jerked at the contact. I had just been running from a gang. If I closed my eyes, I could still hear the yells. I was tired now, my nerves shattered. I closed my eyes.
“Sorry,” he said. He looked into my eyes, and I sighed. The merest touch of his hand had set off a chain reaction inside me, and I felt a deep sense of longing. I closed my eyes momentarily.
“It’s okay,” I managed. “Don’t worry about it.”
He smiled back. “Cars never seem to have enough room in them, do they?”
“No.” I wondered what we might need extra room for, but then bit my lip. Just because he was stunning and sexy didn’t mean he thought about sex all the time. I was sure he was just thinking about getting me back to my home and out of the rain. And right now, with my nerves so on edge and my heart still fluttering in my chest, that was pretty much what I wanted too.
“Okay. Ready to go. Eight Camden Way coming up.”
“Thank you,” I said in a small voice.
“Pleasure.”
I leaned back and shifted in the seat, appreciating the feel of the car as it drew off smoothly.
“Awesome car,” I managed to say.
“Thanks.” He grinned. He was evidently really proud of this car, as he well should be. “A BMW i8. I love it too. Awesome handling. Quiet. And the acceleration on this thing…I’d show you, but we’d get caught by the cops and I don’t think we want that right now.”
I smiled. He sounded so enthusiastic when he talked about cars. It made me wish I knew more about them, just so I could see him smile. My dad was a mechanic, and I did know some things.
“It’s got the new three-cylinder engine?” I asked.
He looked at me, amazed. “Yeah! How did you know that?”
“My dad’s a mechanic,” I said shyly. He looked so pleased that I knew something about cars! I looked at my hands and my face flushed.
“Not many people know car stuff like that,” he said, sounding impressed.
“It’s the first time I spoke to a guy about engines,” I admitted shyly. He laughed.
“Well, don’t get me started! I could talk about them all day.”
“Really?” That interested me. What did this guy do for a living? He looked like he must work in film—acting in it, he had the looks—but why did he know engines?
“Yeah. Whoops…we missed a turn, didn’t we?” he asked, looking back at the screen. “See? You distracted me.”
I laughed. “Sorry. Got carried away.”
“My fault,” he said. “Well, we seem to have a new route…Tell me when I get to the turn.”
“I’ll try,” I said. Focusing on the little illuminated screen was hard. I was so tired. I hadn’t realized how running from that gang had frayed my nerves ‘til now.
“Ah, there we are.” He took the right turn and we headed off back into the town. As we drove, I felt myself getting more and more exhausted. I was cold too. I started shivering about a block away from my apartment. By the time we got there, I was shuddering violently.
“Hell,” he said, looking sideways at me. “You don’t look okay.”
“I’m…fine…” I managed to say through chattering teeth. I wasn’t. My head was pounding and I had a suspicion my temperature was going up. I felt achy and tired and cold.
“Is this it?” he asked, as the GPS made a noise and we reached my apartment building.
“Yes,” I said, clenching my teeth to stop the noise of them. “Thanks.”
He stopped the car in the driveway, but didn’t get out. He looked at me, worriedly. “You know, I can’t just leave you like this.”
“I’ll be f…fine,” I said, biting my lip to stop the shakes. “Just let me off and I’ll…manage.” Heck, what was wrong with me? Every inch of my body was shuddering and I couldn’t see straight.
“No,” he said. “I won’t. At least let me walk you inside.”
“Thanks,” I said. He got out and opened the door for me. I blinked. No one had ever done that for me before. I looked into his eyes. He looked into mine.
We didn’t say anything,
but it felt as though a little spark jumped from me to him. I shuddered and let it warm my body a little.
“Come on,” he said, shaking his head. “Let’s get you in.”
I walked slowly up the steps beside him. When we reached the door, I went blank. I had to put in the code. Suddenly it was gone out of my brain. “Uh…”
He looked at me and I felt annoyed and embarrassed.
“I can’t remember the damn code,” I said, gritting my teeth. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. My mind’s gone blank. Oh…” I swayed back a little, righted myself. The memory returned. I punched in the four numbers and the door opened. “There.”
He didn’t say anything, just looked at me worriedly and held back the door as I passed through. I took the door from him, leaning against the hydraulic arm with all my weight. That was when everything went blank and I collapsed.
“Jackie?”
I came to a moment later. He was kneeling beside me with his hand on my cheek. The door was shut and we were both in the dark foyer of the building. His face was hovering close to mine. I was looking straight into his eyes.
In that moment, something happened. I don’t know what it was. But I felt it and he seemed to feel it to. He leaned in closer and I leaned up and his lips brushed against mine.
Oh. My.
His lips against mine were sweet and tender and their touch was so brief and so gentle that it made my insides clench with longing. I reached up and my hand traced his cheek. Our eyes were locked again.
“Come on,” he said softly. “Let’s get you off the floor. It’s cold down here.”
“I can…manage,” I said shakily. He chuckled and bent down, drawing me to my feet. I swayed and leaned against him.
“No, you can’t,” he insisted stubbornly. “Now let me get you up to your apartment. Here’s the lift…” he pressed the button for the door and it opened and he followed me inside. I was grateful for that—at that moment, I could barely stand up straight. And besides. He was close and warm and exciting and my body was aching with longing now that we were here in this small space, filled with warm light and the scent of cologne, rich and musky.
We looked at each other for a moment. Then, very gently, he repeated the kiss he had given me earlier in the hallway. I leaned against his chest and reached to stroke his hair. His tongue grazed along the line of my lips, probing and warm. I parted them a little and he slid in.
I had never imagined kissing like this. It was different. I closed my eyes as his tongue slid between my lips, firm and tangling, lightly, with mine. I tensed as the tip of his tongue encountered the tip of mine and gently licked it, then moved on. It was as if he was tasting me, licking my mouth with his tongue, exploring me inside. I melted against his chest and clung to him, my body pressed against him.
It was mad and we both likely knew that. We didn’t know each other at all. We had just met at the wrong end of town in the night. In winter, in the pouring rain. But that kiss was amazing and it was firing my blood beyond anything I had ever felt before. And somehow, we knew that we both wanted each other and it was right and good and absolutely, exactly, what we needed.
CHAPTER FOUR
Scott
I had no idea how it happened. I was in her apartment, leaning against the door with her firm feminine form in my arms, exploring her mouth with my tongue.
She moaned a sweet moan as I kissed her and it made my loins ache and I drew her close against me, reveling in the sweet taste of her mouth, the way her body yielded to my touch.
“Baby,” I murmured into her hair. “I want you so much.”
She nodded. When she looked up at me, she still looked flushed, but her eyes were huge and a slight crazy look had entered them—a delicious, exciting look. A look that said she wanted me.
Me. Not my money, my fame, my name. Me.
That did it. I kissed her again, more slowly. She leaned into me and we kissed. I could have spent the whole night just kissing her, except that now my whole body was raging with desire. I felt myself stiffen and I knew my cock was big and turgid and pressed against her, begging for her.
“Jackie,” I whispered again. “Would it be okay if—”
“Yes,” she murmured against my lips. Total acceptance. “Yes. Yes.”
I felt the sound of that shoot through my blood like fire. She wanted me. She needed me. Just like I wanted and needed her. We kissed again and this time I moved against her, pressing my body against her, thrusting my need for her against her warm body. She chuckled.
“Bedroom?”
“Mm.”
We went through to her bedroom. The apartment was tiny, but well organized. She had a small sitting room and kitchen and then the bedroom. A bathroom opened off it—I could smell shampoo and toothpaste through the door to my right, though it was in darkness. I leaned against the door as she shut it behind us. Then we kissed again.
“We should get out of these,” I said, stroking my hand down the wet clothes she wore. She nodded.
“Yes.”
Again, the word lit fires inside me. I couldn’t quite believe this was happening. It was so, so surreal. Here we were, in the middle of her apartment and all I knew about her was her name. Jackie Jefferson. Right now it was enough.
I fumbled with the buttons of my shirt, shrugging my blazer off first and then resuming my work with the buttons. I soon found myself undressing on autopilot, watching her instead.
She took off her coat, then lifted her shirt and drew it over her head in one fluid motion. Her breasts underneath it were round and firm, straining against the lacy bra she wore. She reached round the back to unfasten it but I moved first.
“Allow me.”
She shivered as I unclasped it. I drew it down her arms slowly, teasing myself. Waiting for the moment when her breasts would be revealed.
I cast the bra onto the chair and then looked down. There they were.
Round and full, with big red-brown nipples just tensing in the cold air. I reached for them greedily. She moaned and pressed them against me, and I felt as if I had entered some fantasy. I kissed my way down her pale throat, reached her cleavage and then took one of those nipples into my mouth. I was shivering too as I sucked it and it had nothing to do with the cold.
She had big nipples, firm and hard, and I loved the feel of them stiffening in my lips. This wasn’t a painted actress—this was a real woman, and I loved the scent and feel of her and the way she whimpered as I teased her.
My other hand caressed her breast and she let me touch her, drawing the nipple out between finger and thumb and stroking it. I could have stayed there all night except that the scent of her was calling out to my body, making me want more of her. And more.
I pushed her back lightly and she landed on the bed with a thump. She giggled breathlessly. I joined her. Her trousers were tightly fastened, and I worked at the zipper, drawing the cold, wet fabric away. Then I looked down. Her lacy panties matched the bra, a surprisingly feminine set after the more boyish way she dressed. I could smell the musk of her, and I wanted more than anything to bury my face in her sweetness.
I drew the panties aside and she gasped. I sat up.
“Okay down there?”
“Mm.” She nodded. Closed her eyes again. “Yes.”
“Good.” I moved slowly, so as not to do anything she wouldn’t like, giving her plenty of warning. This was largely new territory for me—I’d gotten used to women who knew more than I did about sex, for goodness’ sake. I listened to her breath as I kissed my way down her body, pausing when I reached the sweet indent of her navel.
“Yes?” I whispered.
“Mm.” She moaned and the sound spoke such longing that I knew it was okay. I moved between her thighs and parted them gently. I was shivering as I smelled her and then licked her, lapping at her clit and making her moan and shake. She was jerking and crying out as I sucked her and she gave a cry that made me know I’d made her climax. Good.
When I loo
ked up the expression on her face was stunning. She was a beautiful woman, with those big gray eyes and that full mouth. And her hair, drying out now, was a soft brown that was closer to blond than black, a pretty color. I felt proud to have satisfied her the way I evidently had.
“Oh…” she moaned, her eyes flashing open as I shifted position and began, urgently, to undress. She sat up and reached out a hand, running it down my chest slowly. I smiled.
“You are sure this is okay?” I asked. Not that I wanted to do anything differently now—when I took off my pants my manhood was throbbing and thick and it was all I could do not to explode when I touched it.
“Yes,” she whispered. She lay back down again as I came to kneel beside her. “Yes.”
***
What could I say about that night? I had no idea. I only knew that I had never felt so wonderful. I looked at Scott where he knelt beside me on the bed and my whole body melted when his eyes looked into mine.
“Yes?” he whispered.
“Yes.”
Then he was positioning himself between my knees, sliding inside me. I gasped. He was so big, so full, so firm. He filled me up, grazing over all the special places inside me. When he moved, I felt something I had never felt before. Absolute longing.
I was shivering and shivering as he thrust inside me and there was nothing like it as he knelt up and made deeper, slower thrusts, each one pushing right into me. I would have expected pain—he was bigger than I was used to and he was moving firmly—but there wasn’t any. My body wanted his. I was ready for him.
I didn’t think it was possible for me to come so regularly. But as he moved inside me, his body knowing and his scent and sounds reaching right inside me.
As I cried out, so did he. Then he collapsed.
We lay like that, my arms holding him, him buried in me, our bodies relaxed, until I woke.
We were both cold and shivering, so we scrambled into bed. It was far too late by then for anyone to do anything besides sleep. So we slept.
