by Aven Jayce
He’s irresistible.
And I’m more than ready to fuck.
With heavy breaths, I enjoy a few more drives of his arousing finger before moving his hand out of the way and bringing the tip of his cock in me... just far enough to offer a sample of how slick and ready I am for him.
“Addie,” he whispers, moving in and out in a relaxed pace. I’m given another loving kiss and held in his arms.
“Stop. My legs don’t bend that far over my head!” one of the girls shouts. “Jack. Stop. I mean it.”
“Uhr... how ‘bout you? Can I hold your ankles higher than this? Can I put them up by your ears without you bitching about it?” Jack asks.
“Probably,” she says.
“Alright, then switch. Get under me and the two of you make out. Kiss and play with each other’s tits until I get off.”
Quinn sighs. I sigh. And Jack fucks.
I push the sheet down and grab the two towels, placing one over Quinn’s dick and wrapping the other around my waist. I clutch his hand and pull him out of bed.
He holds the towel in place, his backside showing as we run to the bathroom.
“If I wasn’t so damn tired, I’d drag you both back here to join us in my bed,” Jack yells. “Next time though, right?”
Quinn slams the door and locks us in. I’m lifted onto the counter, my ass landing on the cold granite, the tip of his cock gliding over my opening and pushing back inside.
“Uh!” His palms smack the mirror behind my head, sticking there while he devours my mouth.
He’s making up for being silenced, having stifled his excitement and thrusts in the other room. Now, he’s free to fuck... free to fuck hard.
And I love every bit and inch of it.
My body’s whisked from the counter and pressed alongside the back wall. With my legs around his waist and hands around his neck, I’m bounced onto his erection.
“This can’t end,” he says, eyes glazed over with delight.
“It won’t,” I say. “I’m here. I’m not leaving you.”
He rests his head on my shoulder and releases a long breath, viewing himself sliding deep inside, moaning with each lunge. I join him, watching his dick slip smoothly inside, my vision a blur while experiencing an intense torrent of euphoria.
We own this moment together.
We’re one.
His speedy hips charge into me. He huffs and kisses my shoulder and bites my ear as I flick his nipples.
“Fuck, that’s good.”
I grip his forearm and steer his hand back to my clit. Aiding two of his fingers right where I want them, starting a side-to-side motion, continuing until he catches on.
“I got it, beautiful. You almost there?”
I nod and stare at his reflection in the mirror as my body moves in time with his. It’s coming. My muscles are tensing. My skin’s flush and heated. It feels like he’s igniting every part of me—his cock tireless, fingers determined—the sensation’s overwhelming.
I dig my nails into his muscular ass, unable to speak, signaling with my clutch that I’m there.
“I’m gonna cum with you.” He puts me back on the counter, quickening his pace to catch my peak.
His hands are fixed on my hips as his rock-solid shaft pounds into me. “Fuck... you feel incredible around my cock. Fuck...” The first rush of cum escapes his body, shooting inside me.
“Quinn.” I squeeze his waist as my entire body quivers and sweat forms between my breasts. I feel another shot as my orgasm begins.
My legs shake. Our tongues meet for a dance. And waves of energy soar through our bodies, ending with pleasurable aftershocks, tender caresses, and an all-consuming devotion to one another.
He looks down at himself again, trying to catch his breath, wrapping his arms around me before his cock gradually slides out.
“Addie.” He exhales then grins with pure elation as he places a sweet kiss on my forehead. “Being with you is unreal.”
I run my fingers down his chest, stopping to touch the bead of cum on the tip of his dick.
“Life’s so much better when we fuck,” he adds.
His after-orgasm stupor is precious.
“I can’t think straight,” he says. “I meant—”
“It’s okay, I know what you meant... and I love you, too.”
Chapter Five
TURNING POINT
BEDGASM.
I read once that a bedgasm is the feeling of total euphoria when climbing into bed at the end of a long day or after hours of strenuous physical activity, like sex, or maybe trying to stay alive... or in my case, both.
It hit Quinn and me the moment we crawled into bed after the fuck in the bathroom. My eyelids became heavy from lack of sleep and pure exhaustion. The girls were gone and Jack was on his back staring at his finger, but then I was out. It was like being drunk off my ass and passing out.
“Addie?” Quinn stirs in the bed.
“I’m here, over by the window.”
I’ve been watching Jack for some time. He’s sitting on the edge of the pool, wearing black nylon swim trunks and drinking a soda with his head down and feet flopping in the water. There’re two cells on the concrete next to him. It’s hard to see from this distance, but I’m sure one is mine.
Roxanne’s been in and out, promenading around the pool while taking smoke breaks. They seem to be ignoring one another, and the more I watch, the more I notice Jack’s ignoring everyone who ventures out to grab a drink from the patio bar or to take a dip in the pool. But now there’s no one out there, he’s alone, sitting in the dark with no indication that he’s ever going to move.
“You okay?” Quinn stretches, kicking the sheets down to his feet as he wakes up. “What are you doing over there?”
“I’m fine. I’m not dead.”
“That’s one way of looking at it. You know where Jack went?”
“He’s out back by the pool.”
“What time is it?”
“I think it’s late... the moon’s high in the sky. Maybe close to midnight. We slept all afternoon and into the night.”
“We needed to.”
“I know... you hungry? I’m starving.” I catch a glimpse of him walking toward me.
“Yeah, let’s go to the kitchen.”
He joins me next to the window, placing his arms over my shoulders with his warm body against my back. I slide my fingers down his forearms, getting a kiss on my head as we look out into the patio area.
“Think Jack needs help?” I ask.
He snickers and says, “Is that a serious question? He needs a lot of fucking help.”
“True, but I’m referring to right now, short-term. We should talk to him.”
“No way.” He drops his arms and backs away, flipping on a light switch, and spotting a pile of clothing that’s been left on the dresser. He tosses me a shirt and puts on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.
“Why would you want to help someone who tried to hang you from a tree, even if it was some sick game like Dylan said? And why is it that every woman is always infatuated with the rich kid with the nice car?” he says under a jealous breath.
“That’s not fair.” I pull a yellow shirt over my head, looking down at the retro-style silhouette of three women and the words Charlie’s Angels on the front. “This isn’t high school, we’re adults. And I’m not shallow.”
“He doesn’t act like an adult.”
“Don’t you wonder why?”
“Don’t you hate his guts?”
“I don’t hate people, I hate what they do. It’s a dead end to hate and it makes you weak. And I think everyone deserves a chance.”
“A chance for what?”
“I don’t know. A chance for something.”
“Do you feel that way about your mom’s killer? That he deserves a chance?”
My eyes widen, astonished those words just came out of his mouth. “What? How
can you... why would you...”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. Addie... Addie wait, where are you going?”
I grab a towel and wrap it around my waist, pushing past him and out the door, strutting down the hall, past the office where Roxanne’s working, and through the dining area into the kitchen. I start slamming cabinets, looking for food. It’s a good thing it’s late and no one’s around to witness my childish tantrum.
“I take it back; I’m not an adult,” I say as he walks in. “And the clock above your head says it’s one in the morning. It’s late... or early... no, it’s fucking late. We’ve been asleep for twelve hours. I’ve never slept this long before. Nadine must be pitching a fit that we haven’t spoken. I need to get my cell from Jack so I can call her.”
He checks the time then takes a block of cheese and a bag of apples from the fridge, nodding for me to sit on one of the bar stools at the kitchen island. He plunks the items on a cutting board and slides a knife out of the woodblock, slicing the food into small pieces.
“Are you taking care of me after I just had a bitch fit for no reason?”
“Part of your mood is from not eating, the rest is my fault. I should’ve said, he killed Trent and my dad, and even if he has no plans on killing us, I don’t think he deserves a chance at anything. And I still don’t know what you mean by a chance. A chance for what, being friends with us?”
“I don’t know,” I say, munching on an apple slice while tapping my foot on the stool’s metal rung. “A chance to apologize. A second chance to start over with us, maybe.”
“Second?” He passes me a handful of cheese cubes. “You mean fourth or fifth chance? Sixth chance? He’s not gonna apologize. He keeps doing the same shit over and over, which means these aren’t accidents that deserve a second chance, they’re choices. I have no desire to be his friend. None. He fucked Dylan’s life up and—”
“Dylan did that to himself.”
He stops the knife halfway through the apple, his troubled amber eyes contemplating my words. I glance down at his fitted, russet-colored tee, then at his copper-colored skin, and back to the hints of those same colors in his eyes. He’s like a radiant yet calming fire in this dim, institutional-style kitchen.
“Fair enough,” he whispers, completing the slice. “Even so, he’s still a dick for doing what he did to you.”
“I know, but—”
“But? But nothing. You’re telling me you can look past that?”
“It was important. He’s sick, but I think he’s trying to help us, all of us. It was his way of—”
“No.” He shakes his head, putting the knife down and handing over more slices. He takes two bottled waters from the fridge and deposits one in front of me. “I’ll be humble if he talks to us, and only because we’re using his business as a safe house, but I’m not gonna seek the guy out to hang with him like he’s my friend.”
“I want to fix him or help him out somehow.”
“Of course. That’s what you do; it’s who you are. Only you can’t be that way with him.”
“But remember when I came out for a swim the first night we met? I saw you from my window sitting on the steps, all alone, drinking, looking miserable. It was terrible how Trent and Roxanne treated you. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“I’m not dangerous. Plus, I liked you and you knew that. It’s not the same.”
“Someone has to be that person—that person who visits prisoners on death row, who helps a stray dog, even if the dog bites. Who—”
“Who helps a guy who fakes a hanging? Who helps a guy who killed my dad?”
I look down for a moment, knowing I can’t change, and haunted once again by my mom’s never-changing advice...
You can’t save everyone.
Attend to yourself before helping others.
I wish her words weren’t always the same. I wish so much that I could talk to her. And I wish so damn much I could stop thinking about the trail.
“You’re right, sorry. I didn’t say I liked him... I just think he’s lonely and that’s part of his problem.”
“He’s a loner, not lonely. I’m sure he likes being that way.”
“Listen, I’m so adamant about it because I believe he’s saving us. He knows Dylan’s a goon with no life. Maybe he pinned everything on him so you and I can be free.”
“Doubt it.”
“Okay... but he helped me with my mom.”
He sits on the stool next to me, gesturing to explain. I chew an apple slice and open the water, taking a swig before continuing.
“She was forced into that area. It wasn’t by choice.”
“What? But I thought—”
“She’d never jog down that remote trail alone. Never. I’ve gone there a few times over the past year, though not in the summer and never when there was full foliage, mainly because I couldn’t go there right after she died. The first time was late fall, the leaves were already off the trees and bushes. It was wide open. Then, in the winter and early spring, it didn’t look anything like it did yesterday. She was on the main trail and was forced to that area. I know that now. I felt it. Jack made me feel it. I was kicking and trying to get away... she did the same.”
“That’s a guess.”
“It’s a gut feeling and one that I trust.”
“And you think that’s why he took you there? I thought it was about loyalty. Some fucked up way of seeing if we’d turn on one another, or... I don’t know; it was just a goddamn joke, and not a funny one to anyone other than him.”
I fiddle with the cheese cubes, rolling them like dice while reflecting on those moments—how I felt, what was said, his expression and words when he lowered me to the ground. Jack had his own motives—faith in others, loyalty, allegiance—those were part of it, but maybe between him and somebody else, not us.
“I think it had more to do with his life than mine. Maybe he was trying to get me to see things in a different light, but it seems pointless to drive all that way just for me. It was for both of us... and for you and Dylan.”
His exhale is abrupt, hinting that he’s not going to admit Jack has an ounce of good in him. “I suppose it’d be unusual for a guy like him to help someone if he wasn’t getting something out of it for himself. It might be all about him and not us, who knows.”
I give his hand a gentle squeeze as we talk. He eats the pulp of the apple, leaving the skins, similar to a kid who won’t eat the crust on a sandwich. A mound of red skins forms as the two of us devour the apple. I thank him with a loving smile and can honestly say I feel alright being here. It’s better than Jack’s car or the streets, aside from the fact that I’m still hungry and I could use a drink, something that will pack a punch... a head shaker shot... but food first, a full belly before liquor.
“Women can’t live on apple slices alone,” I say, slipping off the stool and walking over to the fridge.
“Check if there’re any leftovers from dinner,” he says.
“Who cooks around here?” I ask.
“Everyone.”
“I love to cook, but Nadine never let me. She was very protective of her fancy appliances and kitchenware.”
I roll my eyes when Roxanne steps in with the two girls. She points to the door on the far side of the kitchen, directing them to the basement.
“You can sleep in the upstairs rooms on the days we’re closed, but stay in the basement when guests arrive and you’re not on the clock. We have bunks down there. And pay no mind to any dungeon play or screaming that comes from the other rooms. It’s all for fun.”
“Are we gonna get locked in?” one asks.
“Maybe,” she replies, being the bitch that she is.
“You won’t be,” Quinn says. “Don’t listen to her. It’s safe.”
They head down the stairs as Roxanne uses her hip to knock me out of the way. She opens the freezer and pulls out a carton of cigarettes, taking a new pack and putt
ing the rest back.
“Have you always been so damn nasty?” I ask.
She pounds the pack against her palm, casting an evil squint. The plastic is peeled off and a cig is removed. It’s placed in the corner of her mouth, hanging limp as she steps forward.
“What are you going to do, hit me? Yank my hair?” I step back.
“My discipline is never that quick.” Her words are muffled from the cigarette in her mouth. “If you act like a toddler, you deserve to be put over my knee and spanked like one. I’ll redden your princess bottom so you can’t sit down for a week.”
“Leave her alone,” Quinn says.
I continue stepping back as she creeps forward.
“You’d love to hurt me because it’s what gets you off, right?”
She takes the cig out of her mouth and grabs my upper arm, pulling me toward the basement.
“I’ll beat that disobedient mouth of yours right into submission.” She grins at the thought, showing her yellow teeth.
Quinn launches forward, knocking his stool back. It totters then tips, causing a clanging of metal on the floor as he steps between us and pushes her away.
“Revolting.” She sweeps her blouse like she’s brushing off his handprints. “Is my boy jealous? You can take her place if you’d like, after you shower her stink away,” she says with her hand rubbing over his dick.
I race to the kitchen island and reach for the knife, getting my wrist grabbed by Jack. I follow the bright tats up his arm to his shoulder, and notice his hair looks darker... or maybe it’s just because it’s wet.
He leans in, dropping his head until his lips are near my cheek.
“Why do you need that?” His voice is full, smooth, and rested, sounding calm compared to the rest of us.
I glance down, noticing the two cell phones on the counter. He repositions his grip and a beautiful, ornate, red and gold cross tat on his inner arm that bears the word Mom catches my eye. I close my fingers into my palm, bending them away from the knife.
“That’s better. Now back off. I’ll take care of her.”
“I can handle this,” Quinn says.
