by M. S. Parker
Nothing had yanked me off course in years.
Not since I decided just what my course was.
Memories of a phone call, then reading that letter washed up to remind me, but even with that being front and center in my mind, I couldn't banish Michelle.
That nervous, sweet smile.
The way she chewed on her lip before she asked a question.
The way she laughed and the odd observations she made that had me doing the same thing.
Alicia had repeated herself when I'd gone to leave.
Go find her, Jake.
Now I was here, less than five minutes away from her apartment. I'd even managed to find a parking spot just down the street. It was like fate was smiling on me.
Either that, or teasing me.
What was I supposed to do? Go up there and say, Hey, I couldn't concentrate on my client because I was thinking about you.
"What in the hell am I even doing here?"
I didn't know.
But one thing was certain.
I wasn't leaving.
Sliding out of my car, I reached up and undid the top two buttons on the tuxedo shirt, leaving the bow tie hanging loose around my neck. I dropped my keys in the pocket and blew out a breath.
What was I going to do if I went up there and found her with a guy?
She said she didn't have a boyfriend, and I believed her. But not having a boyfriend and not dating were two different things. Yet somehow, I didn't think she was dating either.
I was just procrastinating, because I knew what I was going to find. Her alone. Her, tucked into her pajamas, maybe reading a book.
Her...vulnerable.
And I wasn't going to give a flying fuck. I was going to put my hands on her anyway.
Shoving away from the car, I started to walk.
Thirteen
Michelle
I took a long hot bubble bath and enjoyed a glass of wine while I was in there. Aunt Blair had loved the article I put together for the Skype sex session.
She'd told me what she was going to call it–
Getting the O on the Go
How the Modern Girl Can Keep Things Hot
She had given me a rather pointed look when she came by to talk about it, asking if I was getting first-hand experience. Since she'd made several references to it via phone calls and emails, I'd been expecting it and had been braced for it – to some extent. I'd kept my face buried in my coffee cup and brushed off the comment to the best of my ability.
I wasn't sure if she bought my muttered, "I don't know what you're talking about."
She'd let it go with a soft "Hmmmm..." It could have meant anything or nothing at all. With Aunt Blair, one never knew.
Now, wearing my favorite pair of pajamas – a pair of leggings and an oversized jersey – I curled up in my favorite chair, with my favorite mug full of cocoa. I was going to do nothing but read.
I'd soaked in a bubble bath for nearly an hour, sipping on a glass of wine and now, for the rest of my fuck-it Friday routine, I was going to drink cocoa and lose myself in a book.
My fuck-it Fridays had started almost a year ago when I'd finally given up on trying to date like the rest of my friends – given up on being normal. Aunt Blair had hugged me once when I told her about it. What in the hell is normal anyway, sweetheart?
It was a good question.
How would I know what normal was?
I felt better when I wasn't trying to be normal, when I didn't pretend to have something going on every Friday and when I didn't have to lie.
My friends had come to expect that my typical Friday consisted of me staying in with a book and a glass of wine, or a book and hot cocoa, or maybe, on rare occasion, a movie out.
I'd tried to break my routine this week, asking Jake if we could have another Skype session. He didn't need to know that I'd finished the article already, right? It wasn't coming out until next week.
But he already had plans, and even though nothing about his demeanor had changed, I'd gotten the impression those plans had to do with his job. The one that involved his oh so clever title, the King of Multiple Orgasms.
Jealousy had twisted in me for a day or so once I figured that out. A jealousy I had no right to feel but had existed nonetheless.
It wasn't like I didn't know what he did for a living. He was going to have plans, and I wasn't paying him for the time we were together. It was something I carefully avoided discussing.
It wasn't like I was paying him for anything we did. That would be sort of illegal considering we had gone and had sex. Technically, he could be considered a consult, of sorts, I supposed, but that was risky even then.
Sometime soon, I expected he would want to break things off. Why wouldn't he? Brooding, with my unopened book still in my lap, I sipped at my cocoa. I'd already taken up a lot of his time, and while it had been an erotic slice of paradise for me...for him?
Probably nothing much.
A shiver raced down my spine as memory of the last Skype session raced through my mind. It hadn't been like the other times. He'd told me he was going to play, teach me how to play and use my imagination – and had he ever.
It had been intense, a little wicked, a little dark. That alone had been surprising, him being able to get me into it.
Dark was not my speed. Even intense was pushing it.
But not only had I gotten into it, I had gotten into it big time, having the most intense, nearly painful orgasm by the time he told me it was okay – okay – to bring myself to climax.
He'd asked me where I lived when I was coming down, and mindless from the pleasure, I told him.
A part of me had hoped he'd show up, but he hadn't. It wasn't surprising, but the disappointment had lingered.
It was gone now. It had been silly to be disappointed anyway because there was no reason for me to have expected for him to show up, right?
A girl can dream about a lot of things, but it was stupid to get all down just because an impossible dream didn't happen.
I stared at the fireplace and reminded myself all of this was an assignment to him, and even though it had turned into a fantasy for me, it was still a job. Just a job.
Flipping my book open, I made myself focus on it. I needed to relax and do some reading, otherwise my batteries were going to be drained for the next couple of weeks. I had some assignments coming up that had nothing to do with articles for my aunt, and I needed to be fresh for them.
That meant I needed my creative batteries recharged.
I had just gotten into the first chapter, four or five pages in, when a knock at the door caught me off guard. It was just after nine, not late, but late enough that nobody should be knocking. Aunt Blair wouldn't have come over without calling and neither would most of my friends.
Nervously, I went to the door, automatically clutching my cell phone in my left hand. Nerves were just a part of me anymore. A natural part of my life, and they had been since I was fifteen.
I didn't let them control me anymore, but I also refused to become the victim I had once been. That alone required a certain level of caution.
Leaning in to look through the Judas hole, I pursed my lips. Sucking in a breath, I jerked back. The sight of my visitor was such a shock, I almost yelped.
It was Jake. Jake was here. Here.
No way.
I looked once more. Sure enough, it was definitely Jake. Judging by the way he stood there, I thought he might be leaning against the door, both hands braced on it as he stared at the peephole, waiting.
"Open up, Michelle," he said gruffly. "I know you're there. I heard you walking across the floor just a few seconds ago. Wooden floors creak like a bitch."
Slowly, I unlocked the door, leaving the chain in place as I looked out at him. "What are you doing here?"
"Let me in," he said, voice low.
The intent look on his face made me wonder if everything was okay, so I closed the door enough to free the chain and then opened it, stand
ing aside so he could come in.
He did, closing the door behind him before turning to me. I opened my mouth to ask what was wrong.
The words never made it out.
His mouth slammed down on mine, and after a brief, startled moment, I reacted, moaning into his mouth and curling my arms around his neck. He hauled me up against him, his body hard against mine.
He wore a tuxedo but no coat, and through the thin material of the jersey shirt I wore, his jacket felt incredibly cold and my nipples went tight, puckering in reaction. When he slid his hands under my shirt, I hissed out a breath. His hands, normally so warm, were equally chilled now, but the familiar feel of his calloused palms, his thumbs pinching up my nipples, was enough to elicit a cry for me.
Every stroke of his hands against my flesh seemed to warm his until he was as hot as I was. Soon, my breathing was ragged, my skin flushed.
He tore his mouth from mine and pressed a burning line of kisses to my neck, then up to my ear. "I'm going to fuck you," Jake growled. "All week. I've been dreaming about it all week."
Those nerves of mine started to jangle, a crazy kind of excitement rising inside me. Easing my hands between us, I looked into his pale eyes. I had to clear my throat before I could speak, and even then, my voice was raspy. "Is this...is this part of the game from last night?"
In response, Jake pushed his hand into the loose knot I'd twisted my hair into, dislodging the clip. "This is no game, Michelle."
His mouth crushed into mine once more, and I moaned, no longer able to form coherent thought.
I might have said something else, asked him what he meant by that, but there was no air left in my lungs. It didn't even feel like there was air left in the room as he all but ripped the shirt from me.
I wore nothing else but the leggings now, and he palmed my breasts, hands moving with a roughness, a hunger that hadn't been there that first night. He backed me into the door and plumped my breasts together, burying his face in the valley he created. "Your tits...fuck, everything about you." He nuzzled me, then moved to my right nipple, catching it between his teeth and worrying it to a hard, taut nub, drawing it away from my body before letting it go. I cried out, the sound turning into a gasp as he caught the swollen tip in his mouth and sucked deep.
Blood pulsed in that small part of me and in my core, like a line connected the two and every time he licked, stroked, bit, it was a pluck on that line that sent pleasure shuddering through my entire being.
Then...he switched to the left, and I almost lost it.
I bucked against his hand when he reached between my thighs, rubbing me through the tight material of my leggings. "You're so wet already. I could come inside you right now and make you come in a minute," he growled against my breast. "Couldn't I?"
"I...yes." Hopeful longing swelled inside, and I caught my breath.
"I won't." Instead, he eased back and caught my hands, bringing them up to his chest. "Undress me. Now."
As my hands fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, he adjusted his stance, his legs spread wide to bracket mine. The heat and strength of his thighs, the way he caged me in with his hands on either side of my shoulders brought a brief moment of panic. But before it could take root, I freed the last button on his shirt and he lowered his hands. "Take it off. Shirt and jacket."
Dragging my eyes up, I met his, staring at him as I pushed the jacket off his shoulders, followed by his shirt. He caught them and tossed them over the small chair sitting in front of the secretary-style desk that sat by my front door.
"Unzip my pants."
I gulped, but reached down.
"Are you too shy to look?" Jake asked, dipping his head to nuzzle my neck. "I can't do anything but look at you. You're so fucking sexy."
"I..." I didn't know how to respond to that, and there was no reason to be shy. I'd been naked in front of him, underneath him, on top of him and had sat naked in front of a computer screen while he told me to do wicked, dirty things to myself.
Sucking in a breath and bracing myself, I looked down. His cock was a hard bulge against the snug-fitting front of his tuxedo pants. I don't know where I found the courage – maybe it wasn't even courage but sheer desire – but something drove me to reach out and mold my hand against him.
Jake made a noise I'd never heard before, and while need gripped and shook me, he covered my hand with his own, thrusting his cock into my grip.
"You feel how fucking hard I am?" he rasped as he reached up and hauled my head closer. He licked my lips then thrust his tongue between them. The inside of my mouth received the same treatment my lips had enjoyed, and I groaned, shuddering as he continued to rock against my hand the same way he would have if he'd been driving into my pussy.
The image had a wave of desire washing over me, and my knees went weak.
Jake seemed to understand, and he abruptly stopped, wrenching my hand away at the same time he stopped kissing me.
I whimpered, reaching for him.
"No." He touched my mouth. "This isn't how I want you to come."
The blunt, bald statement left me panting. "Let me finish undressing you."
But he didn't return to me, standing a few feet away as he unzipped his trousers and stripped them away. He paused only long enough to pull something from the pocket. I glanced away, feeling awkward without understanding why.
He dropped the condom on the floor by my feet, an action that made no sense until he went to his knees, his hands closing over the waistband of my leggings.
"I want my mouth on you," he said roughly. "I want to taste your pussy and feel you come against my mouth. Will you let me?"
He nuzzled my belly as he dragged the material down one slow inch.
Heat suffused my face as he looked up at me.
"I...um..."
"I'm clean. I get tested every month. But if you don't want me to..."
"No. I...um. It's...it's okay." That awkwardness was back, but only because I was so unpracticed with this. Sexual warriors probably didn't feel so awkward talking about basic stuff.
I was no sexual warrior.
I was barely getting my training wheels off.
A slow smile, full of promise, curved Jake's mouth and he leaned in, dragging the leggings down another inch, then another. "You're so hot for me, I can smell it, Michelle." His lips grazed the smooth skin just above my pubis, and I shuddered.
Here, this close to the door, the light was dim, barely enough to gild his shoulders as he rubbed his lips back and forth over my skin, but I had no doubt he was still studying me. His lips slid over my skin and I sensed his pause, felt it when he discovered the difference.
But he said nothing, simply easing lower and closing his mouth over my clitoris.
I hadn't put on any panties after my bath, and now that he had the leggings down to my mid-thighs, there was nothing between him and me.
He pressed a line of kisses to my naval as he dragged the leggings down to my knees, leaving them tangled there. "Michelle..."
His voice was a ragged noise, one that had my heart hitching up at the sound. His head dipped in lower as he smoothed his palms back up, hands going to knead my buttocks.
And his mouth closed around my clitoris.
I couldn't breathe.
He scraped the hard bud with his teeth, his tongue stabbing before he stopped and nuzzled the neat patch of curls framing my sex.
I had waxed earlier, something I had only done a few times before. "What do we have here?" he murmured, lifting his head to meet my eyes.
During that last Skype session – that crazy, intense session – we had pretended not to know each other. I'd been getting ready to call a friend but had mistakenly called him. I'd worn nothing but a skimpy shirt and panties, and a call that had started out as an innocent misdial turned into a sensual game of Truth of Dare.
He'd dared me to show him what I looked like under the clothes. Dared me to show him the color of my nipples, the color of the hair between my thighs, whe
ther or not I shaved.
I'd been so incredibly hot by the time he dared me to masturbate in front of him, I'd almost begged him to come over.
Now, as he slid his fingers through the newly groomed curls, he gave me a wicked smile. "I guess you decided to change things up."
He leaned in, pressed his mouth to me.
I blushed so hard, it was a miracle I didn't pass out from the sudden spate of lightheadedness. He licked and nuzzled skin recently made bare, murmuring against me. It took me a moment to understand his words though.
"This is hotter than hell, sugar...but you're hot no matter what. You do you." He caught my clit between his teeth again, tugged. "I don't care."
Then he went back to doing me.
As he licked, nuzzled, and bit, I knew then and there that as long as we were together, I'd continue to do this. His mouth felt entirely too good against flesh made newly bare.
Jake stiffened his tongue and passed it through the curls, opening me from top to bottom. I cried out and reached for him, but he caught my wrists, pinning them against my hips.
"Ride my mouth, Michelle," he said. "Just ride it...fuck yourself on my tongue."
The words were so hot, so naked and raw, I all but lost it. Without thinking, I did as he said, rocking against his mouth, moving with frenzied need against his teeth, tongue, lips, as he moaned and growled and licked.
One last scrape of his teeth against my clitoris and I lost it.
But I didn't even have time to come back down.
Jake spun me around, bent me over with my hands braced on the door. I heard the foil tear, and then he was inside me, thick and hard and deep.
"Tell me you want me, Michelle," he said as he thrust in deep.
"I want you." I could barely think of anything else.
"Say it again...say my name," he demanded, his voice raw.
"Jake." It was a pulse in my blood. I couldn't think past anything else except that. Jake... "I want you...please!"
He rode me hard, fingers digging into my hips, my legs still trapped together because of the leggings around my knees. And he felt huge inside me. I cried out as my hands slid and slipped from the door, struggling to hold my position.
