Best Laid Plans

by Robyn Kelly

  “Tell me you want me, Jillian.” His voice is low but so controlled.

  Right now there isn’t anything I want more. “I want you,” I whisper.

  “Tell me how badly you want me.” I hesitate and feel his fingers pinch a nipple. “Don’t think. Your pleasure is so close. Your release. But you are going to have to convince me you want it.”

  This isn’t the time for shyness. “I want it.”

  “You made me wait outside your door and sell you on coming in. Now it’s your turn. Sell me.”

  He moves his mouth to my neck while his hand continues to tug on my nipple. I arch my back in response, and give voice to the feelings building within me. “I need you, Jackson. I need you inside me now.”

  His hand moves between my legs, and gently rubs between my thighs. “And?”

  That word again. Is this a lesson? Don’t think. “No man has ever made me feel this way. I didn’t think any man could.”

  “And?”

  Damn him! “In the back of my mind, you are going to take me and use me up and then leave, and I’ll never recover but right now I don’t care. I only know I want you to fuck me!”

  “Jillian, this is very nice to hear, but all I’m asking for is the magic word.”

  Oh, no. Tomorrow I’ll regret everything I said, but right now all I want is to end this agony of waiting. “Please!”

  He thrusts deep and hard, and now my eyes really close. It was too much, too fast. My breathing is ragged as I try to relax all the muscles inside me.

  A hand cups my face. “Jillian, look at me.”

  I open my eyes and recognize his look of concern—the same look he gave me at the start of the evening. I’ve broken the connection between us and feel as awkward and inexperienced as I was when I lost my virginity. I take a steadying breath and shift my hips to adjust to him.

  “Are you okay?” he asks.

  Not trusting my voice, I nod my head.

  He sighs. “This isn’t the part that’s supposed to be frightening. I’m going to pull out a little.”

  The fullness starts to recede, as his hips lift off me slightly. He stares at me so intently—waiting for me to let him know what I’m feeling. I release the tension in my face, willing it to relax into a smile. Like Christian Grey, he fucks hard, and I am out of my league. Our whole relationship has been a series of false starts.

  I raise my head up and give him a gentle kiss on his lips. “I’m sorry.”

  “What are you sorry for now?”

  How do I answer that question? For ruining the moment? For wasting a condom? “For…I’m—”

  “Jillian, don’t apologize for my blunder. You respond to me like someone with more experience. In my excitement, I forgot that I need to treat you like the rare, exotic creature that you are. Do you remember what you said to me the first time we kissed—when that damn spotlight hit us?”

  That was only last night. I was so angry I could have said anything.

  “You said, ‘Let me fix this.’ Now it’s my turn. I’ve told you before: when I want something, there isn’t anything beyond my reach. And what I want is to give you the best fuck of your life.”

  My jaw drops open at his words, and he uses the opportunity to press his mouth to mine. His tongue strokes and explores. Was it only last night when he first kissed me? When I thought he was the most arrogant man in the world.

  His mouth moves from my lips to my ear. “What’s going on in that head of yours? Are you second-guessing everything?”

  His hands move to my breasts, and he rolls my nipples between his fingers. Isn’t this what I wanted when we were standing at my front door? Didn’t I wish he would ravish me senseless so I couldn’t think?

  His razor stubble scratches my cheek as he whispers in my ear, “Where are you?”

  A good question. “I’m on a cliff.” I moan. “I’m afraid I’ll fall. I’m afraid I’ll crash and burn.” Afraid I’ll end up like all his other exes.

  “You can fly, Jillian. You can soar with me. Let go. Let go of all of those thoughts and worries. Trust me. I’ve got you. Make the leap.” His mouth moves back onto mine.

  I close my eyes and imagine stepping off the edge of Half Dome as my body relaxes into his erotic assault. My arms wrap around his neck, and I lift my hips up to take him deeper inside me. Jackson follows my cue and increases the tempo and depth.

  “Open your eyes. Look at me.” His voice has lost its sensual purr. It’s now pinched and tense, and I instantly obey it. “I knew it would be like this with us, once we got past all of your defenses. I knew there was a sweet little submissive woman inside.”

  My tongue wants to debate that observation, so I move my mouth on his and let it express itself with action rather than words. When his tongue tries to lunge for mine, I parry his attack with the skill of a fencing instructor.

  He lifts his head up and his eyes are alight with amusement—and excitement. He tsks at me. “What am I going to do with you?”

  His mouth moves to a pebbled nipple and flicks it with his tongue. I arch my back, raising my breasts higher, wanting him to play harder with them. His teeth replace his tongue and my breathing becomes shallow.

  “Jackson, I’m close.”

  “I know. Come for me.”

  “I want you to come with me. Please, would you? Can you?”

  “That’s a distinct possibility. Keep your eyes open. I need to see what it looks like when you come. We’re going to come together, looking in each other’s eyes.”

  I respond without thinking. “Yes, sir.”

  I can see the effect my words have on him. His eyes open wider, and the look on his face is so possessive that it sets off a sensation deep inside me. His thrusts become more urgent—deeper and faster.

  “Come for me. Come for me now.”

  Jackson was right—I am flying, and all my senses are in overload. My muscles try to contract, but there’s no room when he’s buried deep inside me. My body shudders into his solid mass of muscle. Staring at him takes all of the concentration I have left. His breath halts and trembles, and his expression becomes so twisted and tight that I wonder whether orgasm is painful to him. He thrusts his hips into me with an erratic rhythm, while gritting his teeth, and then collapses on me.

  I relish the weight of this man covering my body. As we lie there catching our breath, I get an impulse to kiss him. I’m sure if I thought about it, I would second-guess myself so I kiss him on the forehead and whisper in his ear, “Thank you.”

  He takes a deep breath and lifts his head over mine. “For what?”

  “For not leaving.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “When I started crying you got up and grabbed your pants.”

  “That’s where I had the condom.” He gently pulls off me and rolls to the side.

  “Well, I thought you were leaving. Tears are usually a good indication that a date is over.”

  “We’ve had this conversation. Thinking is bad. I fully intended to make you cry.” Jackson’s fingers draw little patterns across my waist.

  The movement distracts me, and it takes a second for his words to sink in. “What?”

  “That was your lesson. I needed you to be so frustrated trying to think and feel that you just surrendered. And you did—you surrendered to me. You’re so sweet and trusting.”

  I’m trying to decide how I feel about his sex agenda, so my “Thank you” is on auto pilot.

  “It’s not a compliment. Life isn’t kind. It grinds up the sweet and trusting.” He gets out of the bed and tosses the condom in the wastebasket. “You should be protected.” He hangs the mirror back over the door and picks up his pants. My heart sinks a little.

  “I guess this is good-night.” I sound petulant, even to me.

  He looks at me curiously. “Are you going to think I’m leaving every time I pick up my pants? I’m getting my cell phone. I have to call Ron and tell him to go home.”

  He’s spending the night
and Ron is the first to know? Part of me is glad and part of me is a little annoyed. I may like his take-charge attitude during sex, but couldn’t he at least include me in on his plans?

  He turns to face me, and his smile turns to granite. “All right, Ron. I’ll call you tomorrow morning when I’m ready.” He puts his phone down and crosses his arms. “I’m beginning to recognize your expressions. You’re setting me up for failure.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say defensively.

  “You’ve got your tight lips on. That means I’ve disappointed you. Let me guess. I didn’t ask if I could stay overnight.”

  “I thought that…briefly.”

  “Right. Thought. But what you told me when you were feeling was that you were afraid I was going to use you and then leave. Then you thanked me for not leaving. That made it very clear I was invited. Or are you just looking for all the little dating conventions? Is that what your other boyfriends would do? I’m sure they were very sweet and had very nice little apartments, and very nice little cars, and very nice little bosses who told them what to do. That is not me. People don’t tell me what to do. I have worked very hard all my life for that privilege. So don’t think you can change me into someone who wastes time with all that etiquette crap. Decide now. Tell me to go, if you want me to go.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry. I want you to stay.” He tilts his head and raises an eyebrow. I’m starting to recognize his expressions, too. “Please.”

  Jackson slides in next to me, and the weight of him feels so good, even my bed moans. I give him a kiss on the lips and then stretch to turn off the lamp on my nightstand. Jackson presses himself against my back, and his arm circles my waist. I lay back down and he moves his mouth to my ear, whispering, “Last time I got in this bed, you thanked me for not leaving.”

  “If we do this again, please gag me.”

  “If? You’ll find I’m not an easy man to get rid of. Now thank me again and we can go to sleep.”

  I let go of my mental walls. I snuggle up to him and enjoy the feel of his body. “Thank you.”

  “Just one more time, Jillian. And add, sir.”

  I hesitate. When I’m not wrapped up in the passion of the moment, it’s harder for me to play the part of a submissive. I know he senses my hesitation. I can feel his grip around my waist tightening. His lips are at my ear again, and I expect a reprimand.

  “Please.” That simple word, spoken softly, and sincerely—it unravels all the tension and second-guessing in my mind. The man who doesn’t do etiquette is using the magic word.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  His lips hover at the back of my neck, leaving a trail of kisses between my shoulder blades. Then he settles beside me, and for the first time in a long time, I feel completely at peace.

  Thank you for reading my book! Jillian and Jackson’s story continues in Best Laid Plans – Book 2: Going Awry. Look for it in early November, 2015.

  To get on my mailing list, or find out about upcoming books, please be sure to visit my website: www.RobynKellyAuthor.com. Hopefully, that will be up in early November, too!