by S. E. Harmon
He slid through my mouth with a soft pop as I leaned back on my heels, stroking him with one hand. When I looked up, he was staring down at me, his face tense with want and anticipation. His hand tightened in my hair. “Open,” he said, his voice rough and husky.
It was impossible to deny him. My mouth opened almost automatically, and he used his other hand to guide himself inside, slowly. Patiently. That slightly salty, elemental flavor was loud on my tongue as he demanded entry. My hands flexed against his thighs, but I didn’t push him back, trusting him not to go too far, too fast.
“God. AJ, I can’t—”
He tried to pull me up, but I shook him off and sucked him in deeper, swirling my tongue around the head. I don’t know whether it was the sounds he was making or the taste of him, but arousal furled low in my belly. I wanted to drive him crazy. I wanted him to forget his own name. I wanted him to forget everything but the feel of my mouth wrapped tight around his dick.
He groaned as he came, hot and wet in my mouth. I sucked him softly until he couldn’t take it anymore and gently pulled me off. I kissed my way up his taut stomach, dropping kisses all the way up his chest and ending with a light kiss on his mouth. When I tried to pull back, he sank his hands in my hair and pulled my mouth back to his, deepening the kiss until I was breathless.
He pushed off my pajama pants as I stood, lifting me onto the small hall table. Two picture frames hit the floor, but I didn’t pay them any attention as he devoured my mouth. The table wobbled a little under my weight, and I opened my mouth to warn him of its questionable construction. But then he sank to his knees, pushing open my thighs, and I decided to take my motherfucking chances.
When he glanced up at me, those hazel eyes were equal parts teasing and wicked. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want…” I could barely form a sentence as his stubble abraded the sensitive skin of my thighs. I cleared my throat and tried again. “I want whatever you want to give me.”
His amused chuckle feathered across my skin lightly, making me shiver. “Be specific.”
“You. I just want you.”
From the startled look in his eyes, he was well aware that my answer was a lot more serious than it could’ve been. A lot more honest. He stared at me for a moment, the expression on his face unreadable. And then he sat back on his heels. “What are we doing here, exactly?”
Oh boy. “You want to talk about this now? My incredulous voice ended on a bit of a squeak.
“Can you think of a better time?” he asked calmly, his thumb making designs on the soft skin of my inner thigh. “I think we should set some parameters about what it is we’re both looking to get out of this…whatever this is.”
Withholding orgasms now? So we could talk about us? I wasn’t going to lie, he lost a lot of cool points right then. I sighed. “I don’t know why I’m surprised. You are a lawyer. Why wouldn’t you want some sort of contract on sex?”
His gaze hardened. “Is that what we’re calling this now?”
No. I was calling it that to create distance between us. And it was clearly working.
“I don’t like games, AJ. I’m many horrible things and I have quite a few vices, but the one thing I always am is forthright. Honest. It’s time for you to be the same. If this is just sex, then let me know now.”
“It’s not.”
His hands tightened on my upper thighs as he shook his head, clearly exasperated. “Then what the hell are you so scared of?”
It was a good question. What was I so scared of. Love? What kind of person was scared of love? I swallowed hard. Maybe the kind who’d been hurt before. Maybe the kind who’d seen love fail so many times that she was afraid to take a chance. Jesus. I was so down on love that I’d exasperated a divorce lawyer.
The truth of the matter was I wanted guarantees in a world where nothing was ever for sure. I was conducting my love life like a business, and analyzing risk versus reward. And in my virtual spreadsheet, the risk always came out a little too high.
“You’re special to me, and I’m not looking to lose you. But if you’re asking me what I want? I want to keep things the way they are. I want to see each other. Have fun with one another.” I blew out a breath. “I don’t know if I can give you any more than that.”
His eyes were hooded as he looked at me, brow furrowed, and I wasn’t sure if he was aware he was giving me his best lawyer stare. If this was what it was like to be across the table from this man in a business setting, then I understood why he was so successful.
Just when I was starting to feel like a hunted animal, he nodded, as if he’d made a decision. “Then I’ll let you know when that’s not enough.”
My fertile mind took off immediately. And then what? But then his grip on my thighs intensified as he yanked me forward on the table, to the very edge. There was a moment of breathless silence as I waited tensely, wondering what I would get—quick, questing fingers, or thick, hard cock. I realized I was wrong on both counts as the rasp of his faint stubble suddenly abraded the sensitive skin between my thighs. I watched, wide-eyed, as that golden head descended slowly.
I hesitantly objected. “I don’t think—”
“Don’t think,” he said swiftly, turning it into a command.
He began nibbling around the sensitive lips at my opening, sucking part of it into his mouth and worrying it with his teeth. He seemed to be going every goddamned place but where I wanted him the most, and I suddenly was brazen enough to admit it. I wanted his tongue buried deep inside me, doing the same maddening flickering motions he was doing at present to my overly sensitized thighs.
“Jackson,” I said crossly. He glanced up at me, eyes sparkling, grin quite wicked, and I knew he knew exactly what he was doing to me. “Does the phrase ‘blue balls’ mean anything to you?”
“Can’t say it does,” he said silkily.
Then his face was back between my thighs and I had nothing else to say. This time he wasn’t interested in discovering and patenting a new form of torture. I was ready for it, prepared for it…hell, I’d demanded that he stop teasing and get down to business, but his tongue surging inside made me arch up with a sharp, gut-wrenching cry, dislodging him at the same time.
He surveyed me grumpily and I held up my hands in apology. He clamped an arm around my wriggling hips and held me immobile, before going back to work. I rode the swift thrusts of his tongue mindlessly, seeking, questing. I needed…more. Just more.
And then suddenly I had it, groaning as he sucked my clit in the heated cavern of his mouth. My sight went a little blurry. A soft, broken little “oh God,” was all I could manage. I sank my fingers in his silky hair, just to hold on to something, anything. I didn’t need to guide him—apparently someone had given him a map of my sex. And bonus, that intrepid person had included a legend with a check next to every area that made me see stars. His tongue swept over one of those areas right then, dragging a low moan from my throat. My thighs began to quiver.
“Jesus, Jackson, I need…I need—”
“I know what you need.” His voice was muffled as he continued driving me crazy.
I tried to pull back, a little, to gain one small moment of clarity in a world gone hazy, but his strong forearm easily held me immobile. Strong fingers dug into the sides of my thighs, spreading my legs further, and I cried out hoarsely as he buried his tongue in me yet again. And then my thighs were tingling and my toes were tingling and there it was. I came apart with no effort at all, shattering into a million tiny pieces. I could almost hear the tinkling of broken glass in my mind as I drifted back to earth.
When I finally opened my eyes, he was paused at my entrance, looking up at me with an undecipherable expression. And then he deciphered it. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
His words made my breath hitch in my throat. Mostly because I knew Jackson didn’t say anything he didn’t mean. He made me more than something as simple as desirable. He made me feel like I was the only one.
It
was my turn to say something beautiful and touching. I thought hard. “You know what to do or you need a manual?”
Well. There was a reason no one asked me to give celebratory toasts, after all.
I got an eye roll and a grin for my saucy words. He lifted me easily and carried me down the hall to my bedroom, kicking my door open in a way that sent it flying into the wall. I didn’t care. The only thing I cared about right now was getting him inside me as soon as possible. He laid me on the bed and quickly shucked his disarrayed clothing, before joining me on the bed. He lifted my legs and spread them, making room for him to kneel between.
The cool air hit my already stimulated flesh, making me shudder as he stared at my wet pussy like he’d never seen one before. All right. That was quite enough waiting. I grabbed a condom from the nightstand and held it aloft until he plucked it from my fingers. Maybe he wasn’t as cool and collected as he originally seemed. His hands were shaking so badly that he couldn’t get the wrapper open.
He was so fucking cute, a blush rising in his cheeks, brow creased in concentration, and I loved it. I would be surprised if he’d ever struggled with a condom wrapper in his life. The fact that he wanted me that badly made me feel powerful. Special.
I plucked the condom from his fingers and opened it skillfully. Then I handed the disc to him with a raised brow. “I’m assuming you can take it from here.”
“I’ve opened a condom before,” he informed me with a huff.
I tried to hide a grin. “Clearly.”
But then he was rolling the condom on that thick erect cock, glistening and throbbing against his stomach, and I had nothing else to say. I reached for him, almost without conscious thought, and he swatted my hands.
“I told you, the next time we did this, you were going to have to beg me.”
“Fair enough.” I pretended to think about it. “If you don’t get on with it, there’s room for your face on a milk carton.”
“I thought that was for missing kids.”
“I guess we’ll find out,” I said sweetly.
His eyes danced with amusement. “Good enough.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
So we did our best to keep it casual. Easy. We were just two individuals, slaking our mutual lust for one another. Lust that didn’t seem to be sated no matter what we did. But no matter. The important thing, the critical thing, was that no one was falling in love. Keep it moving folks, nothing to see here.
“Do you want to go ahead and order?”
I looked up at the waitress giving me a friendly smile. I smiled back automatically, checking my watch. I’d actually managed to beat Jackson to the diner, and it was still ten minutes before one. I proceeded to order sandwiches and drinks for the both of us—turkey and cheese for me, a Rueben for him—and handed her back our menus. I wasn’t worried that the food would arrive too far before him. Jackson didn’t do late. Come hell or high water, when one o’clock rolled around, he would be here.
The waitress buzzed back around the booth, quick as a flash, and placed two Cokes on our table. I thanked her and stuck a straw in the one with ice. Jackson hated restaurant ice.
I scowled. It seemed like I knew a lot about Jackson’s likes and dislikes nowadays. I’d always known practically everything there was to know about Julian, but Jackson had always been this big question mark. I’d gotten to know him through Julian’s eyes…little brother eyes that saw his older brother as this larger-than-life figure with a perfect life and everything going for him. The past month had been like filling in the blanks. He was still that dynamic figure that Julian made him out to be, but he had his issues, too. He wasn’t perfect, and I was so very glad. Perfection was boring.
We talked about things that didn’t really matter—he loved Iron Man and disliked Captain America—and I was pretty sure that was treasonous. We talked about the things that did matter, like how he’d never been able to measure up to his father’s expectations. His childhood. His growing dissatisfaction with the hours of his job and the senior partner creating rifts between the rest of the staff by endlessly dangling a partnership.
Paramount to me was improving his relationship with his brother, which I wasn’t ashamed to say I harped on. Mostly because now I had insight from both sides. Growing up, Jackson had been more of a father figure to Julian, taking care of his younger, more irresponsible brother when he acted out to get his real father’s attention. Now that they were older, the dynamic had to change. They weren’t pseudo-father and son anymore; they had to learn how to interact as brothers. Or so I continued to lecture.
I knew that he liked to say his favorite team was the Cubs, to show hometown spirit, but his real favorite team was the Red Sox. He liked the History channel and had an obsession with all things space related. I’d almost canceled the channel after a plethora of space specials began appearing on my DVR. I loved a good documentary as much as anyone, but life was too short to watch six hours’ worth of a Mars rover meandering over endless miles of red dirt.
He liked his subs Italian, his chicken southern, and his kisses very, very French. I knew that he was passionate about the law and hated shows on the law. He could never watch without pointing out all the inaccuracies. He was addicted to Fantasy Football, and had way too many shirts with Polo logos. He worked too hard, slept like the dead, and ordered out more nights than not.
And because I was smart like that, I also knew that my casual affair was not going as casually as I wanted. Luckily before I could ponder that further, the bell above the diner door jangled, and Jackson entered the gloom. I glanced at my watch and grinned. The man was like clockwork. One minute before one o’clock.
I half-stood in my seat and gave him a little wave. His face broke into a smile and he began making his way through the crowded room, and I took that opportunity to look my fill. He wore dark-blue Armani very well, and I wasn’t the only one watching his progress through the crowded room. I was, however, the only one who got to stretch up and kiss him. Which I did. A minute longer than was appropriate.
“I thought you were going to be late,” I said in lieu of a greeting, easing back down in the booth.
“You wish.” He shrugged out of his jacket, revealing a sharp pinstriped vest over his crisp white dress shirt. He proceeded to drape the jacket over the edge of the booth, and slid in across from me. “I thought 12:30 wasn’t good for you. My stomach almost ate through its lining waiting for one o’clock.”
“My meeting ended a little early with Torchwood.” I spotted the waitress coming with our plates and told him, “I ordered you a Reuben with fries. I hope that’s okay.”
“Like you read my mind.” He grinned. “Reuben sandwiches are—”
“Your favorite,” I finished. Reuben, Italian, then grilled cheese. And so went the Book of Jackson.
Our waitress dropped off our plates and we thanked her before tucking into our food. “So how’d the meeting go?” he asked.
“Pretty good, actually. They’re definitely on board with partnering with us, but we’re still trying to come to terms on what that means exactly.” I popped a fry in my mouth and chewed a while before continuing. “I’m trying to convince them to have a booth for us in-store, and not just offer us as a contracted service.”
“You think that’ll make a big difference?”
I shrugged, sinking my teeth into another fry. “Undoubtedly. I don’t have the numbers to prove it yet. But being a convenient in-store option has got to be better than being on a list of many contracted providers. Now I have to get them to agree.”
“Why don’t you offer a compromise—a trial period in a small percentage of their stores. If it doesn’t work out, you go back to being a service on the list.”
“Could work.” I stared off into space, thinking. “We could even absorb some of the setup costs. I have to run it by our finance department, but that could be an option.”
“What does Jules say?”
“Your brother is on punishment,” I informe
d him archly. “He posted another Groupon, so he’s dead to me for the unforeseeable future.”
Jackson chuckled, reaching over to steal a fry. I glanced over at his plate for revenge, only to find it completely empty. Well, not completely. A sprig of discarded parsley and a half-eaten pickle lay on the plate. I blinked. “Damn, you weren’t kidding about being hungry.”
“It’s been a busy morning. I don’t think I’ve even had time to come up for air, more less to eat anything.” He stole another one of my fries, and I finally took pity on him and dumped the rest on his plate. “Thanks.”
“You have to make time to eat,” I scolded. “Food is fuel, you know.”
“Oh my God, you sound like Julian,” he said with a grin. “And I do eat. Today was just ridiculous. I shouldn’t even really be—” He cut himself off visibly, his cheeks going pink. “Well, it’s just been busy,” he finished lamely.
I knew exactly what he was going to say, and what he didn’t want to admit. He didn’t even have the time to power down a NutriGrain bar, but he’d taken time out of his schedule to come downtown and eat lunch with me. It hadn’t exactly been easy for me to get away either, but I’d been determined to make it work. We were two busy people, determined to touch base in the middle of the day. I was pretty sure fuck buddies didn’t do that kind of thing. I thought my cheeks were getting a little pink as well, and I changed the subject.
“How was court this morning?”
“Fine.”
When he didn’t continue, I raised an eyebrow. “Jesus, stop already. You’re talking my ear off.”
He chuckled. “What is there to say? Everything went as planned. We were prepared, so it wasn’t a surprise. My high profile client got exactly what he wanted—an increase in child support, his boat, and the family villa in Tuscany.”
“At least it was a family heirloom of sorts.”
“Yeah, it was. Her family’s heirloom.”
