by Clare James
My entire body trembled.
“I want to taste you so bad, Jenna. God, I bet you are so sweet. But we can’t take the chance, not here. Still, I can make you feel good. Let me?”
I nodded because it was the only thing I could do. There was no way I could form a coherent sentence, I wasn’t even sure I could form a proper word.
He spread my legs apart, first an inch, and then another, shielding me with his body. And once his fingers finally reached their target, yanking my panties to the side, I know he found me wet and ready for him.
Using a single finger, he traced a line down my center, parting me. And he groaned as if this was giving him pleasure. My eyes fluttered closed, and a lightshow went off behind my lids.
I swayed as his movements made me shaky. But he had me, his arm wrapped around my waist and his hand gripping my hip, holding me to him.
The ache between my legs magnified, I began to hear my heartbeat in my ears.
He leaned in, and kissed each cheek, the underside of my jaw, and over to my neck before quickly driving two fingers deep inside. My breath hitched and I grabbed his shoulders for stability. His eyes met mine at that moment, they had turned so black. He slowly pulled his fingers out of me then, and used my moisture to stimulate my clit before sliding them back in again. But this time, he crooked the ends of his fingertips and began to stroke my G spot.
“Is this good for you?”
When I didn't answer, he chuckled and pulled me closer.
“Christ, I could do this all night but I’ve got to get you off fast, baby, before we don’t have this place to ourselves anymore.”
He didn’t wait, he went to work. He was a man on a mission. He plunged his blunt fingers inside again and began pumping into me, slow at first until they reached a fevered pace.
I could hardly hold myself up, the pressure was building, building. And as he drove those fingers into me one more time, I simply let go, allowing the force of the orgasm to rip through me, leaving no part of me untouched.
“Holy Shit,” I whispered once I floated back down to earth.
“That was so fucking hot, you have no idea.”
“Oh, I think I have some idea.”
I looked around the room, and thankfully, we were still alone.
“Now what?” I asked, playfully.
“Well,” he smirked, “I think your whites are done.”
So in the world’s most awkward afterglow of all time, Michael and I folded my unmentionables at our local laundromat.
You seriously could not make this shit up.
Chapter Fourteen
Michael
Well, there was no coming back from that.
I didn’t want to overwhelm her, so I didn’t push my way into her apartment and I didn’t ask her to stay at mine. Even though what had happened back at the laundromat was everything I wanted—fuck that, was everything I dreamed of—I couldn’t say I wasn’t a little freaked out about the whole thing. Plus, where would we go from here?
One thing I did know, without a doubt, was that today would not be the last time I touched Jenna. I could only hope that I was assessing the situation accurately. I also desperately hoped I wasn’t overestimating my prowess with the women. I mean, it sure looked like she was having a good time, but Jenna was a tricky one.
“Get some rest, and I’ll talk to you in the morning,” I told her once we arrived back at the apartment, before placing the lightest of kisses on the corner of her mouth. So much had happened, it was all I dare do. I didn’t want her getting skittish and running away. Instead, I wanted us to come back together after a good night’s rest and figure out a plan.
Right, like either of us would sleep tonight.
The next day, I did stop by before my shift as—what looked to be—a handyman was leaving her place. It’d been Grand Central over there lately, and it was making me a little twitchy.
“What was he doing here?” I asked her, signaling to the guy in coveralls.
“I don’t know, some heating and air conditioning thing,” she said, hardly paying attention. She was too busy messing around with the Buddy Walker I’d given her—and by the way she was acting, one would’ve thought I’d presented her with a diamond.
Note to self: Jenna likes presents.
“Well, I didn’t have anyone stop by to service mine,” I said.
She shrugged and it had me on edge, not that I was going to let her know that.
“Jen,” I said gently. “This is kind of serious. Did Dean the landlord, or anyone from his staff, inform you that your place needed maintenance?”
“No, but that’s nothing new.” She clipped the new leash on Molly and Ruby. “Why are you getting so wigged out over this?”
She took my hand and turned it over, before placing a light kiss on my palm. It was an easy move. A natural one. And, oh yeah, she was placating me.
“I’d just like to see that you take a little more care with the comings and goings in your apartment.”
“The comings and goings?” She quirked an eyebrow.
“Yes, that’s a technical term.” I returned a kiss on her palm. “It’s just important for safety reasons, there are a lot of bad guys out there.” I added.
“I’ve lived alone for a long time, you know. And I wouldn’t just let anyone inside. He was wearing a uniform, in case you didn’t notice, and I even got a work order.” She retrieved it from the table and waved it in front of my face.
Good girl. But the uniform was a dumb argument. They were easy to pick up online. Anyone could order a uniform for anything, but I wasn’t going to argue the point right now. I did, however, make note of where she put the work order, because I would be taking a look at that later.
That reminded me…
My big project for my internship was coming up, and this was the perfect opportunity to get her to help me—all while I was helping her.
“So while we’re on the subject of safety and the fact that you live alone,” I began.
“Yes?” she said cautiously, her brows knitted together.
“I’m starting a self-defense class for women at the gym across from the station and I could really use some practice before we start. What do you say, are you up for being a guinea pig?”
“Of course,” she said a little easier. “But I’m not sure how much help I can be, I’ve never taken a self-defense class.”
“Even better,” I told her.
Truth was, the class wasn’t just for my project. I’d been something I wanted to do for a long time. They’re be a classroom portion as well, covering preventative measures to take—like where to park at night, safety on campus, party protection, and how to use pepper spray and Tasers.
I might not have been able to prevent Tabby’s nightmare, but if I could help someone else avoid something like that, I had to try.
“I’ll text you directions to the gym,” I said.
“Deal.”
Fuck, this is important. I kept chanting to myself later that night. I had to repeat the phrase over and over again so I wouldn’t get distracted by Jen.
This was the one of the best ways I could protect her. It was also something that helped me make up for the times that I wasn't there to help people who needed me, like Tabby or my mom.
Fuck, this is important.
I needed to do this for Jenna, it wasn’t about me and my selfish needs.
Focus, idiot.
She made her way down to the empty gym, right on time. A few other guys from the station came to use the equipment on occasion in the morning, but for the most part, it was a vacant space that I had all to myself.
I pulled a few mats to the ground and set up a punching bag in the corner. But we’d start easy with a few simple moves that could be lifesaving.
When Jenna arrived she was exhausted. It’d been a long day for both of us. And though she may have been a little out of sorts after the day’s events, she still looked absolutely edible to me. Her hair was pulled back in her
signature weekend ponytail, and she wore a pair of tight black running pants—that were snug in all the right places—with a tank top that covered her sports bra, but was still unable to conceal her curves.
To say she made it difficult to concentrate was the understatement of all understatements. And as I put her into position, the rise and fall of her chest made my cock ache. This was a very bad idea.
Jen offered no clues about how she felt about what happened last night. Had I misread what was going on between us? Part of me really hated how she turned me into such a questioning, unconfident fool, the other part loved the challenge.
Still, I didn't like the questions. I didn't like the inconsistencies or wondering. I needed to know where we stood. Then, once we knew, we could have a plan, we could set up rules. I needed my fucking rules.
We started our session with the basics, like be alert and aware, go out in pairs, know your surroundings and all those things that she’s probably been hearing for years.
“Above all,” I added. “Avoid distractions, because this is what attackers bank on. Distractions can lead to death. So don’t get me started on texting or talking on the phone when you’re out walking alone at any time of the day.”
The smartass gave me a salute.
We covered vulnerable entry points on a person: the nose, the space above the lip, the groin, solar plexus, vagus nerve, knees, and ears. Then we moved onto techniques for getting out of holds. I showed her how, instead of yanking your arm away when someone grabs you, it was best to rotate the wrist and bend your elbow to pull free.
“And this is where most women get it wrong,” I told her as I took one step closer. “They pull away instead of leaning in.”
As I clipped my arms around her, I showed her how to use her body weight to get me off of her. But damn, it was hard to concentrate. I was too close, she was too close. Her fiery fragrance overpowered the sweaty stench of the room. All I could smell was her, a scent that told me exactly who Jenna was, both sweet and spicy. A battle always going on under the surface. And as I pondered all this shit, that’s when she did as I asked, and used her weight, almost knocking me on my ass.
So much for my sexy police officer seduction. I was failing miserably.
“Looks like I almost got you,” Jenna grinned.
“I was distracted there for a second.”
"And distraction can lead to death." Apparently she was paying attention to my earlier lecture. Okay, bonus points for the student.
“I know.”
Right, I was so done with today’s instruction. I was done with a lot of things. The time for thinking was over.
We took a water break and all the pent up tension I’d let build over the past week began to peak. But what would I do about it? I ran through a litany of scenarios, each one dirtier than the last.
Jenna swayed, shifting her weight from foot-to-foot. It seemed like she could sense the change in the room as much as I could—even though I was the one who was changing it for the most part. I took a step forward and another, it was now or never. Time to take the next step.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked.
Oh, we were back to this game.
“I think you know,” I replied, just as I did that night in her apartment.
She glanced down and the mat and shivered, and it was almost my undoing.
“Don't tell me you don't want this,” I said, unwilling to play any games at this point. I wanted her, she wanted me, and everything else could wait. “I can feel that you do. But you have to let me know one way or the other, because I’m losing my shit over here.”
Jenna
He had no idea how much how much I wanted him. But that was the problem. If I let him in the rest of the way, I wasn’t sure I could walk away in one piece.
Still. I wanted to give him…everything. He was a protector, a brother, a son and friend. He was one of the good guys who gave at the expense of himself. I was the complete opposite. He walked me backwards until my back hit the padded wall. “Tell me, Jenna,” he pushed, “tell me you don't want this.”
His arms caged me in, but I used one of the moves he taught me. I pushed my weight against him, so I flipped us, his back was against the wall now. Let’s see if he could take the heat for a change.
“It’s not about what I want,” I said breathing in his crisp, clean scent that overpowered the staleness of the gym.
His fingers stroked my cheek, his gaze following its path. It was such a simple gesture, but so tender. It'd been so long since I thought I deserved this, someone to treat me this way, someone to know me again. His fingers continued down over my shoulders, down my arms until he linked hands with mine—first my right and his left, and then his left in my right. Opposite, but the same.
He didn't say anything as he lowered us both onto the mat. I was scared, but also sure at the same time. For some reason that I can’t explain, I trusted this man. For other obvious reasons, I was so hot for him I could hardly breathe.
Heat swam in his eyes as they bore into mine, asking so many questions. Most importantly, was this okay?
I nuzzled my nose along his cheek in my answer and pressed my lips on the underside of his jaw before lining his neck with scorching hot kisses. He looked at me so tenderly then, like he was battling whether or not to go slow and soft, or fast and hard. I would've taken it either way. But I wanted to give this time after everything he given to me yesterday.
I toyed with the bottom of his shirt, lifting it lightly. He pulled up to his knees, and reached behind his neck to pull it off for me. And sweet baby Jesus, he was a feast for the eyes.
This was the first time I'd seen him with his shirt off, and let me tell you it was worth the wait. His skin was all golden and shiny from the work out. Smooth, taut, gorgeous skin pulled across all of his ridges of muscles. He wasn't bulky at all, but looked like he could seriously mess someone up if he had to.
“My turn,” he said with a wicked grin. He started with my T-shirt, sliding it up and pulling it off so excruciatingly slow I wanted to scream just let me do it. But there was a reason he was doing it this way. With Michael, there was always a reason.
Next, he went for my running pants. His fingertips slid under the waistband and my breath caught in my throat, just like it did last night. Once again, he took his time, pulling them off, inch by inch, baring me to him.
I'm not going to lie, I’d worn my best underwear under this get up, totally not appropriate for self-defense activity, but perfect for this one. It probably made me look desperate, like I was hoping this would happen, but what can I say? I was.
He didn't seem to mind as he took in my lacy panties, and a low hiss escaped his lips. He looked up at me with a raised brow.
“You like?" I smiled at him. Please say yes, please say yes.
“More than like, I fucking love them.”
Well then, he was going to be very happy with the other half of the ensemble. What looked like a sports bra underneath my tank was nothing of the sort.
The groan that slipped from his mouth next told me he'd gotten to the piece of lingerie in the form of a racerback bra. And once he freed me of my tank top, there was little left to the imagination. The bra was the same color ivory as my skin, and the cups were made out of the thinnest lace known to man.
“Are you trying to kill me, girl?”
“No,” I told him honestly. “I'm just trying to make you happy.”
“Mission accomplished.”
He leaned over me, bracing his weight on his arms. I'd let him get away with that for now, but at some point I wanted to feel all that weight on top of me, pushing me into the mat.
He kissed me then, hard, deep, and full of so much emotion and need that tears pricked my eyes. He moved to my neck and nibbled down, mimicking the motions that I had done to him a little earlier. But once he got to my chest, he made a dead stop.
My chest heaved, my nipples pebbled under all the lace.
“Ho
ly shit,” he said like he was in pain. “You look so incredible.”
I arched my back, giving him more access. The way his throat bobbed with each swallow told me it was the right move. He watched me so closely, gauging my response as he peppered my chest with kisses.
He then traced the lace of my bra with his fingertips, starting at the straps going down to the underside of the cups, before coasting over the edge of lace at the top. I could feel his restraint, his power.
He flicked the front clasp of the bra and pulled it open so I was completely bare to him and under his perusal. If it was even possible, my nipples tightened further. And it took him only a second before his lips were there to ease the throbbing and provide some relief. He pulled one tight peak into his mouth, toying with it with his tongue before releasing it with a loud pop. He gave the same treatment to my other breast.
“Please, Michael,” I said to him. I wanted to enjoy this, savor it. But I wanted my release more. I wanted him to have his release more. He understood and made quick work removing the rest of our clothes.
He sheathed himself with a condom and stilled, bracing his arms around my face. It was a protective movement, careful, like I was his prized possession. I knew he was waiting for me to look at him. I had to steady myself before I did. And when I complied, he positioned himself at my entrance.
We were really going to do this.
A little push and he was in a fraction of the way, and it felt so good, but so not enough. I groaned in frustration and a soft laugh fell from his mouth.
He laced his fingers with mine and slid our arms up and over my head, his thumbs putting the perfect amount of pressure on my wrists.
It was, in a word, sublime.
He pushed in a little more, and I took what he offered. The old Jenna in me came out to play, wanting, wanting, wanting. Whimpering sounds bounced of the walls, and I didn’t realize for a few minutes that the noise was coming from me. I was greedy and this wasn’t enough.
Not by a long shot.
Michael was so controlled, so disciplined it made me want to unravel him all the more. I contracted my inner muscles, trying for relief or friction, something other than this torture. I was quickly rewarded with a quick flex of Michael’s hips, accompanied by a strangled groan.
