by Anne Jolin
“My turn,” I say, licking my lips as I undo the top button of his jeans. Jamison Henley shirtless is a sight most women would love to see, but Jamison Henley naked… Well that’s something most women would die for.
After I tug his jeans down, he steps out of them, standing in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs. I run my finger along the waistband, dipping it inside the front, and he groans. There’s been a helluva lot of sexual tension between us in the last eight months and it is all coming to a head now. Pun intended.
I grab the sides of his boxers, pulling them down. His beautiful cock springs free, and I bite back a whimper at the sight of it. Even his cock is sexy as fuck. It’s soft-pink skin surrounding steel. My panties are absolutely fucking soaked and he hasn’t even touched me there yet.
I wait for him to step out of his boxers before pointing at the chair behind him. “Sit.”
He doesn’t question me. He just sits down, spreading his knees for me to kneel between them. I wrap my left hand around the base of his cock before teasing the tip with my mouth, my right hand bracing itself on his knee. I twirl my tongue around the top, licking the pre-come before taking him deep into my throat.
When I look up at him, my mouth full of his dick, I see him staring back at me. His chocolate eyes are drunk with lust. The muscles in his arms are tight from gripping on to the sides of the chair. I love that I can make him feel this way.
I cup his balls with my hand, sucking him deep into my mouth again. I know that he likes it because he’s thrusting his hips up to meet me, groaning every time I let him touch the back of my throat.
“I’m going to come,” he warns me.
I don’t stop. I move my hand back to the base of his shaft and begin to pump him in time with my mouth. In a few seconds, his hot seed is filling my mouth. I swallow, not wanting to miss tasting any of him as I finish milking him with my hand. When I pull away, licking my lips, he groans again.
“You have the hottest fucking mouth, Lennon,” he growls, putting his hands under my arms to lift me up onto his lap.
I laugh as I tuck my head into the crook of his neck and he runs his hand lazily up and down my back. We sit like that for a few minutes, both of us catching our breath before I move to stand. Then he hooks his fingers into the loops of my jeans and pulls me back down.
“Where are you going?” he asks, nipping at my earlobe. I’m now sitting on his lap, my back to his front, and I can feel his erection growing under my ass.
“To get our clothes.” I giggle, swatting at him.
“I’m not done with you yet, Montgomery,” he threatens. One of his hands snakes down the front of my stomach, undoing the button of my jeans. I moan when he cups my pussy. “Why aren’t you naked?” he growls into my ear.
I can’t even answer him because all I can focus on is his hand in my pants. He teases my clit before thrusting two fingers inside me. I squirm on his lap, wanting more, and drop my head back to rest on his shoulder. He continues working me with his one hand while the other pinches and twists my nipples again.
“My turn,” he says, using my words against me before adding a third finger.
“Oh god,” I pant.
He curls his fingers inside me, hitting my sweet spot over and over again, but it isn’t until his thumb presses down on my clit that I come. Explosions of colour burst behind my closed eyelids. I shudder around him, riding out the aftershocks of my orgasm as he pulls his fingers out of me. Then he brings them up to his mouth, just like he did that night in the cab, and licks my juices off them.
“Even sweeter than I remember,” he whispers in my ear.
I don’t know how it’s possible for me to be this turned on again already. Am I tired? Hell yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’m not also horny as hell.
He helps me stand, not letting go of my hips until he’s sure that I’m steady. When I hear him get up behind me, I start to move away, but he grabs on to me again, dragging me back to him.
“No. No. Beatle,” he says, hooking his hands into the sides of my jeans. “This is a naked party now,” he announces before pulling my pants down off my legs, taking my panties with them. Once I’m fully undressed, he takes my hand, leading us out of the garage.
“Where are we going?” I laugh, noticing that he’s not heading towards the bedroom.
“To the kitchen,” he answers, still walking.
“We’ve already done it in the kitchen though,” I whimper, and he turns around to wink at me.
“I know, baby. I’m not eating you in the kitchen,” he says gruffly. “Not this time, anyway.”
He sits me down on one of the island stools before moving to the fridge. Then he digs around for a minute before pulling out the most delicious-looking pie.
I raise my eyebrows at him in question. “We’re in the kitchen to eat pie?”
“Sustenance, baby,” he scolds, turning on the oven. “You’re going to need it.” He’s completely unashamed of his naked body. His sexy-as-sin, tattooed, naked body that’s heating up homemade pie, I might add.
I might have felt weird sitting around naked with another guy, but not with Jami. My heart is scared of loving him, but my head can’t deny that our souls seem to be intertwined. He knows me—well, most of me.
I let my thoughts wander to the fact that I still haven’t told him about what happened to my dad as he puts the pie in the oven, setting the timer. As he grabs two forks, setting them down on the counter, it occurs to me that we’re in the kitchen and Martha’s nowhere to be found. Dogs are always in the kitchen when someone’s cooking.
“Where’s Martha?” I ask him.
“She’s in bed,” he answers.
“She’s in bed?”
“She sleeps in her kennel at night,” he clarifies.
“Ohhh.” No one wants to be fooling around while the dog watches you. As much as I love Martha, that’s just way too awkward.
When the timer goes off a few minutes later, he pulls out the pie with a very masculine-looking floral oven mitt on, which makes me laugh.
“My mom gave it to me,” he whines.
I giggle again. “Sure she did.” I wish I had a camera to capture the image in front of me right now. Ruggedly handsome, tattooed Jami standing naked in his kitchen with a flowery pink oven mitt and a freshly baked pie. “I feel like I’m in some kind of naughty version of a Home and Garden magazine.”
“Laugh it up all you want, chuckles.” He sets the pie down. “You won’t be laughing when you bite into this,” he warns.
I laugh again because he somehow just made eating pie sound dirty.
He scowls at me. “I’m going to spank you later for laughing at me,” he growls, and I squeeze my legs together on the stool in response. For some reason, the threat sounds all too enjoyable to me.
He grabs ice cream from the freezer and makes us each a plate—a slice of rhubarb pie and a scoop of vanilla ice cream. The moment my mouth closes around the first bite, I can’t help the moan that escapes my lips. I look up at him across the counter, where he’s standing eating his own portion.
He raises his eyebrows at me. “Told you so.”
I finish chewing and swallow. “You made this?!”
“Don’t sound so shocked.” He laughs. “I told you on Christmas Eve that I made the best rhubarb pie in town, so I made it for you tonight.”
My brows furrow together at the memory of who he was with that night and I hear him chuckle.
“You’re jealous,” he teases.
“I am not!” I rush out defensively, only further proving his point.
“Beatle…” he says. “You wear your emotions all over your face, and right now, your face says, ‘I’d cut a bitch.’” He motions with his fork towards me.
“I do not!” I glare at him.
After he finishes his slice, he stalks around the counter to stand beside me, not even bothering to hide the fact that he’s rock hard again. It’s a good thing the counter was hiding his erection for the
last twenty minutes or I’m not sure I’d have been able to focus long enough to eat my pie.
He leans down, licking the seam of my lips. “I like that you’re jealous.” He grins and I smack him in the arm. “’Cause I’m jealous of every man who’s ever looked at you.”
Well there goes any and all fight I had left in me. I don’t even bother trying not to enjoy the fact that he’s incredibly possessive because it’s kind of hot. Okay, it’s a lot hot. There’s something so domestic in the way our day has been. Shopping together, cooking together, and eating pie butt naked in his kitchen together.
He spins the stool so I’m fully facing him now and bends over to kiss me softly on the lips. Then he moves his mouth to trace the shell of my ear with his tongue. “I like you naked in my kitchen too,” he whispers, and I feel his cock brush up against my knees, so I spread my legs, wrapping them around him again.
I rake my nails up his muscular arms. “It’s not our first time anymore. Does that mean you’ll fuck me in the kitchen?”
He grips my hips hard, pulling me against him. The quick movement sends the stool crashing to the floor as he sets me down on the counter.
“I’m going to fuck you all over this house,” he growls.
I can feel his cock rubbing over the lips of my pussy as I grind myself against him. “Condom?” I ask.
“Are you on birth control?” he questions, running a hand up to cup my breast.
“Yes,” I pant. “Are you…” I trail off, not sure how to ask if he’s clean. It wouldn’t shock me to find out that Barbie was a total skank.
“I’m clean. I’ve never had sex with anyone without a condom before and I get checked regularly,” he offers before biting down on my shoulder.
“Ahhh,” I cry out in response.
“Have you?” He asks.
“Have I?” I repeat after him, dazed.
“Have you slept with anyone without a condom?” he clarifies, and I shake my head.
“No. I haven’t been with anyone since you, and I just had an appointment last month. I’m fine,” I reply, short of breath.
“I want to fuck you bare,” he states gripping his cock and teasing my entrance with the tip.
“Yes,” I say, giving permission as he continues to dip the top of his beautiful dick into my pussy and then pull it out again. “But please don’t fucking torture me anymore!” I shout, digging my nails into his back.
He slams into me and I moan. “Fuck,” he hisses. “So fucking tight, Lennon.” He starts thrusting slowly as my pussy stretches to take all of him.
“Harder,” I whimper.
He pushes me back so I’m lying down on the counter and grips my hips. I’m almost certain he’ll leave a bruise there but I don’t care. He starts slamming into me so hard that I have to grab the edge of the counter to keep from moving every time he bottoms out inside me. The only sounds in the entire house are our ragged breathing and the sound of his balls slapping against my ass.
He looks down, watching himself fuck me, and it’s so fucking hot. Everything about him screams sexuality. His dark hair is messy and his lips are swollen from our kissing. The muscles under his tattoos dance as he thrusts himself in and out of me with abandon. I buck off the counter, feeling an orgasm within reach. He must know that I’m close because he reaches between us, pinching my clit between his fingers.
“Jami!” I scream out as I come.
He thrusts a few more times before I feel his throbbing cock empty its seed inside me. Then he pulls me back up, wrapping his arms around my waist, and tucks his head into my neck.
“I’ll never get enough of that. Of you,” he whispers into my ear. “You’re mine, Lennon. I won’t let you walk away from me again.”
I move one hand over his dark hair and the other down his back reassuringly. I can’t make any promises, but I’m trying.
He stays that way for a few minutes, his semi-hard cock still inside me, before he speaks again. “Let’s go to bed, beautiful.”
I expect him to pull out of me, but he doesn’t. He simply stands, walking with me wrapped around him like some kind of monkey. We don’t make it far down the hall before his cock goes hard again inside me and I moan, starting to ride him as his long stride slows down.
“Fuck,” he curses, leaning against the wall for support. I take advantage of the stop and grind my wet pussy over him. “If you’re trying to kill me”—he tugs my hair—“I don’t even care, because this would be one helluva way to go,” he growls before his mouth claims mine in a hot kiss.
We don’t make it to the bedroom—at least not for another two tries. We do, however, check two spots off our list of places in his house to fuck—the hallway wall and the hallway floor. I fall asleep with my head on his chest, sleeping more peaceful than I have in months.
WE SPENT A lot of time together over the following weeks. Although I still won’t give in to calling us a couple, we are definitely something. It’s the morning of the Hallmark holiday otherwise known as Valentine’s Day and I am terrified. I never, ever, like, ever in my twenty-five years of being on this Earth have ever gone out with a man on Valentine’s Day. To say that, when he asked me, I was shaking in my boots would be an understatement.
It’s a Wednesday, not exactly the perfect day for the ‘most romantic day of the year,’ as the TV kept calling it, but I don’t mind. Work kept me busy during the morning, and I am now getting ready to meet Hannah and Beth for lunch. My best friend called me last night asking if I’d be able to make lunch work today. It sounded important, so I rescheduled an appointment to fit it into my day. Hannah makes her own hours working at the massage clinic and Beth is currently in between jobs. She got her degree in business management and worked for the same construction company in town since. They recently went under and she was left high and dry, without a job.
The place we are meeting for lunch is only a five-minute walk from the salon. When I step inside the restaurant, I don’t see them anywhere, so I put in my name with the hostess and take a seat. My ass barely hits the cushion by the time a wave of chatter comes bursting through the front door, so I immediately stand back up.
“You’re so bloody nosy, Han,” Beth snaps as she walks in.
“Well, if you weren’t being so damn sneaky about everything, I wouldn’t have to be,” Hannah chirps back.
They both stop when they notice the wide-eyed hostess staring at them, and I have to bite back a laugh. The Rhodes sisters can be a handful—or well, a shovelful is probably more accurate. They see me coming over and swallow me into a hug when I reach them. The Rhodes sisters are also huggers. Big-time huggers.
“Hey, buttheads.” I grin at them once they’ve pull away. I’ve been so busy between the salon and spending all this time with Jami that I feel like I haven’t seen them in a while. Shocking, I know, considering that I live with Beth, but she has been disappearing more and more often and I frequently spend nights at Jami’s house.
It doesn’t take long before we’re seated in a booth—Hannah and I on one side, Beth on the other. We spend a few minutes chatting about the usual suspects: work, family, shows etc. I even let them ask me about Jami. They all want to know if we’re a ‘couple,’ but I’m just comfortable with the way it is now and don’t want to rush anything. It’s easy to realize that something’s up with my friends. Hannah’s fidgeting and playing with her food, which she never does, and Beth looks like she’s off on another planet entirely.
“What the hell is going on with you two?” I ask, darting my eyes between them both.
Hannah chews on her bottom lip, looking at me and then at Beth. “I’m worried about you,” she blurts out.
Beth looks absolutely livid. Uh oh. I just got roped into some kind of dating intervention for Beth and I didn’t even know it. Thanks for the heads-up, Han!
“I told you! I’m fine!” Beth practically spits fire across the table at her sister.
Might as well ask what I’ve wanted to know. “If everything i
s so fine, why don’t you talk about him? You always talk about the guys you’re seeing with us. If everything is so fine, why haven’t we met him yet?” I narrow my eyes at her.
“Oh great! You’re both going to gang up on me now. Is that what’s happening here?” Beth accuses, waving her hands in the air.
“Just because his family is wealthy isn’t any reason for him to be ashamed of you,” Hannah says calmly from beside me.
“You told her?!” Beth practically shouts, glaring at me. “I told you not to tell her!”
“Did you really think I wasn’t going to, Beth? Come on. You’ve been acting really weird and it’s not like you. Spill. We’re tired of guessing and we aren’t leaving until you fess up,” I scold her.
“We love you, Beth. Please.” Hannah’s pleading tone isn’t lost on me. We are all close, and knowing that Beth is hiding something from us is unnerving.
Beth reaches across the table, placing her hands on top of ours. “Really, you guys. I promise. Everything is fine. Kyle is great. He’s funny and smart. We’re just being careful, okay?”
Hannah and I exchange glances. This whole situation still smells like shit. “Why did you delete all your accounts?” Hannah asks.
We noticed a little over two weeks ago that all of her social media accounts had been deactivated. Beth loved those things. She Instagrams more than a tourist does.
Beth rolls her eyes, clearly irritated by our line of questioning. “I told you his family is well off. He asked me to delete them, so I did. It’s not a big deal. Listen, if I brought him to our next monthly dinner, would you guys feel better?”
“Yes!” Hannah and I both say in unison. It would definitely be easier to feel out whatever the hell is going on here if we could interact with him in person. But there is that one other thing still nagging me…
“What about Jay?” I ask. I think we all sort of thought that was going to happen eventually.
“What about him?” Beth responds, her eyebrows raised in question.
