The Big O Series

by M. S. Parker

  "Michelle, please..."

  I spun around and slammed the glass down. It shattered on impact, but I didn't care. "Please what?" I shouted. "You came here and accused me of something so awful, it makes me sick, and now you're here because you...what? You think that an apology will make it okay to ask me if I was some selfish bitch instead of just outright telling me that I'm one? No!"

  He blinked, looking a little dazed, but whether it was by my outburst or by something I said, I didn't know.

  He shifted and instinctively, I backed away. Glass crunched under my foot, and I gasped as a sliver of pain shot through my heel. "Shit!"

  He was around the kitchen island in a heartbeat, and before I could ward him off, he had me in his arms. "Put me down!" I snapped.

  "In the middle of a bunch of broken glass?" he asked, sounding almost insanely reasonable.

  I didn't want him to be chivalrous right now. I wanted him to be an asshole like he'd been the other day. "They're my feet."

  "I don't care. I'm not letting you cut them up," he responded, putting me down on the counter. He then leaned far to the left and grabbed the roll of paper towels and ripped a few off, forming a fat pad. "Here. You deal with that while I clean up the mess."

  As he turned away, I gave his back a dirty look.

  "You deal with that..." I mouthed, mocking him, but because I could feel the blood – and the pain – I lifted my foot up. "Oh, shit. Shit. Shit."

  Jake was immediately back in front of me, one hand grabbing my ankle as I sagged back, feeling a little sick. "What's...ouch."

  A piece of glass, almost the size of a quarter, was sticking out of my heel, and the sight of it, all bloody and red, had my head spinning. It wasn't the blood so much that made me feel sick, but the glass sticking out...yeah, that did it.

  He shot me a look. "Blood makes you sick?" he asked gently.

  "No. Seeing something sticking out of my body does," I said sourly. I gave my foot a tug. "Let me go."

  He didn't though. "It'll be hard for you to deal with this if you can't look at it without getting sick," he replied. He shifted, half-turning his back and using his body as a barrier. "You're right, you know."

  "About...ouch!"

  He turned back to me, the bloody piece of glass in his hand. He grabbed a few more paper towels with the free one and dumped the bloodied glass onto it. "I want to make sure there's nothing more inside it."

  "Inside..."

  His eyes dropped to my foot.

  "Oh." My belly rolled but I nodded.

  A few seconds later, another dart of pain lit through me. Jake, voice soft and easy, spoke throughout. "I shouldn't have accused you. You were right. I'm sorry about that. I came over here...hell, Michelle...are you crying? Did I hurt you that bad?"

  "I cut my foot open!" I sniffed and jerked against his hold once more. This time, he let go, and I pulled my injured appendage in, pressing the paper towel pad against it. It was still sore, but not as bad as it had been when he pressed on it.

  "There was another piece in there – probably broke off from that bigger chunk." He sounded hesitant, something I had never associated with him. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

  "Stop being nice!" I went to push off the counter, only to freeze, but the light glittered off the remnants of the glass I broke. I slid my gaze along the floor, wondering if I could scoot along the surface and make my way down to where there wasn't any glass.

  "Don't even think about it," Jake warned, pointing a finger at my nose.

  I smacked it away, surprising us both. "You don't get to tell me what to do," I said, jutting my chin up. "After what you accused me of."

  "Aw, fuck." He moved back to me, glass crunching under his boots. "I'm sorry, Michelle, okay? I'm sorrier than you'll ever know. I haven't slept worth shit since I left here and not because I was mad at you..." He blew out a breath, looking away. "Some part of me knew I was off base. I was mad at me, but I think..."

  He stopped talking and just shook his head.

  "You think what?" I asked.

  His eyes came back to mine. "You scare me," he said quietly. "Everything about you scares me. I think I reacted out of fear because you scare me, and you make me rethink the things I thought I had to focus on. It makes it damn hard to carry on with doing what needs to be done when you're worried about somebody else, when you're thinking about somebody else..." He reached up and cupped my cheek. My heart jumped as he rubbed his thumb over my lower lip. "When you find you're suddenly needing somebody else."

  "You don't need me," I said, my voice thick.

  "You don't get to decide what I need and don't need," he said, easing in closer. "The past few days, it's like there's a hole in me. Seeing you filled it, but every time I think about how I hurt you, every time you look at me like you are now...that hole gets bigger again." He rubbed his lips against mine. "Let me fix this, Michelle. Tell me how to fix this."

  "I didn't go to the press."

  "I know that." He touched his forehead to mine. "I should have known that all along. I don't...my mind is playing tricks on me. I don't handle fear real well and when I saw the story...I was wrong. Plain and simple."

  "You were an ass," I said, my voice breaking.

  "I was." He kissed one eye closed, then the other. "How can I fix this?"

  But I didn't know what to tell him.

  How could I explain that I'd been missing him like I'd miss breathing?

  How could I explain that his lack of trust in me was like glass in my heart?

  I just didn't know.

  "Let me fix this," he said again. This time, it was against my lips.

  Weak already, I moaned, and when he flicked the seam of my mouth with his tongue, I opened for him. He pushed his hands into my hair, tugging my head back as he deepened the kiss.

  Starving for him, I reached up and twined my arms around him.

  I'd probably been lost to him the moment he said my name through the damn speaker.

  Why had I even bothered trying?

  As skilled hands stripped my clothes away, I fumbled with his coat, then his t-shirt. I shoved them out of the way, dropping them to the floor, forgetting all about the glass.

  It crunched under his boots again as he picked me up and turned, putting me down on the island. The marble was cold against my naked skin, warming quickly.

  "Let me..." He muttered against my lips, kissing a hot path down the midline of my body until he bent over me, his mouth level with my core. Jake licked me, and I felt it throughout every inch of my body.

  Arching up to meet the next stroke, I curled my fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. "Please," I whimpered.

  There were no teasing, taunting, tempting remarks from him this time, just a low, hungry noise as he closed his mouth over me and kissed me square on the cunt before shifting higher and focusing his attention on my clitoris. A rough hand smoothed up one thigh, seeking out the folds between my legs. As he speared two fingers deep inside, I felt the first warning tighten inside me, already.

  It was like I was an instrument keyed only to his touch.

  He pushed up with those two fingers, applying pressure to my G-spot, and I cried out, my nails scoring his scalp as I worked myself against his mouth and hand.

  "Please," I whispered, panting. "Please...please...yes!"

  The orgasm hit hard and fast, and he continued to pump those fingers, tease my clitoris all the way through, bringing me back down slowly and drawing every last bit of pleasure from it that he could. By the time he began to kiss his way back up my torso, I was so drained, I could have fallen asleep right there.

  Or maybe not.

  His lips sought out my ear.

  "I want you. Right here. Right now. Can I?"

  Sleepily, I lifted my lids and focused on that beautiful face. "I'm pretty sure I haven't been giving any mixed signals."

  "Tell me yes," he said, his teeth catching my earlobe and tugging.

  "Yes..." It came out of me on a shuddering
sigh, and I moaned as he traced his tongue along the shell of my ear before pushing up on his hands.

  I watched as he freed himself from the confines of his jeans, wrapping a long-fingered hand around his cock as he looked down at me.

  "You're turning into a problem, Michelle," he muttered, pumping his hand slowly up and down.

  I might have asked him what he meant, but the sight of him stroking himself was so erotic, I lost my breath. I might have even lost my mind a little, staring at him with my heart hammering against my ribs.

  "The way you watch me..." He practically growled the words and I shivered as his voice stroked over me like whiskeyed velvet. My nipples tightened to the point of pain as I dragged my eyes up and met his.

  "I can't help it."

  He caught my hand and guided it between my thighs. "Make it even then. Show me how you like to touch yourself."

  Blood rushed to heat my cheeks, but wild need and other things drove me to do just that, and I began stroking myself as he watched.

  I was slick and hot, the folds of my pussy swollen.

  The few times I'd managed to climax on my own, I'd never been this wet before, this aching and empty, this ready to be filled. But I didn't beg for him to end it.

  Not yet.

  Instead, I watched as he fisted and pumped his cock, lay there, circling my clit as he watched me. When the sensations became too much, I closed my thighs around my hand and moaned, feeling the orgasm rushing closer.

  "Don't do that...let me see," Jake said, his lids low. "I'm going to come all over you here in a few seconds. I want to see you come for me...right like this."

  I whimpered, the words so hot and raw, they were another stroke against my already over-sensitized nerves. He pumped his hand harder, faster, but kept the other on my knee, keeping me from closing my thighs. "Do it, Michelle," he urged. "Let me see you come."

  Breath coming hard and fast, I stopped caring and just gave in.

  As he watched, I stroked myself to orgasm, and just as I bucked against my wet, slick fingers, he came too, semen jetting from him to splash on my belly.

  He didn't even wait.

  He grabbed my hips, pulled me closer to the edge of the island and thrust in.

  "Jake!"

  He snarled and twisted his hips, thrust deeper, harder.

  I reached up, grasping at his biceps, but it wasn't enough. He seemed to understand because he pulled me up against him, our fronts sticky now, flesh sliding and slipping together. He picked me up and carried me, the weight of my body driving me farther down on his cock.

  Crying out, pinned between pain and pleasure, I clung to him.

  A moment later, he had my back to the wall, and he caught me behind the thighs, draping my knees over his elbows. He grunted out my name as he withdrew, then thrust deep.

  It was almost too much, but the pleasure rivaled the fullness of him, and I couldn't imagine not having him this close, not right now. His movements grew rougher, more frantic, and my orgasm rushed even closer.

  We came together, his mouth sealing over mine just as I cried out his name. As he swallowed down the sound, his cock swelled inside me and jerked, setting the rhythmic sensations within me to fluttering all over it.

  It was too much.

  Way, way too much.

  Black dots danced in front of my eyes, and for a few seconds, I thought I might pass out.

  "Michelle," he murmured against my hair a couple of moments later, his breathing as ragged as mine.

  Closing my eyes, I tucked my face into his chest, not quite yet ready to think.

  He seemed content with that.

  But I doubted it would last.

  Thirty-One

  Jake

  Michelle leaned against me, snuggled up to my chest, her breath soft against my skin.

  I couldn't feel the racing of her heart anymore, but it had pounded in rhythm with mine for the past several minutes. We both needed a shower, and every time I shifted my weight, glass crunched under my feet.

  I had to clean that mess up so she didn't cut her feet again.

  We also had to talk more. I was under no illusion that this was just...done.

  I'd fucked up big time, and I needed to make sure she understood how sorry I was. Trust...hell, I wasn't sure if I even knew how to trust people any more.

  I hadn't trusted anybody in years. Not the few casual friends I had, definitely not my clients, even the ones I was friendly with. Not even my family.

  Not that there was much of that left.

  Thinking of them hurt, and I closed my eyes, turning my face into Michelle's neck as memories came flying at me. But I didn't push them back behind a wall as I normally did.

  Trust.

  She'd trusted me.

  Maybe it was time I did the same.

  "You know, when I first moved to New York, I didn't have much in the way of money," I told Michelle as I adjusted one of the water jets of her shower so the spray reached me. I used my body to block it so it wouldn't hit her and hooked my arms over her shoulders.

  She tipped her head back, watching me with somber eyes.

  "But if I had, I would have gotten a place just like this, all because of the shower."

  A ghost of a smile lit her eyes. "You got eyes on my shower, Jake?" she asked.

  "Absolutely." The need to keep things light for the next few minutes was paramount, as my mind ticked away all the little things I needed to do, how I should tell her, what I should tell her – all of it – but where to start?

  She'd let me wrap a blanket around her shoulders earlier while I cleaned up the glass, then I'd gotten her little robotic vacuum out and set it to clean the floor, hoping it would get anything I missed. I'd seen the little gadget on one of my previous visits and decided to give it a whirl. She told me not to worry about it, but she already had one bloody gash on her foot. I didn't want another.

  Michelle was already walking gingerly, but she hadn't let me look at her foot again when I asked. I didn't know if it was because it was hurting still, or if there were other reasons.

  I was determined to talk her into letting me clean it out. I knew there was a first aid kit in the closet. I'd seen it when I got towels, and I had every intention of taking at least one look to make sure it wasn't still bleeding.

  "The shower was one of the selling points, I'll admit. The entire bathroom, really. I love the tub." She glanced off to the side where a sunken tub sat tucked into one corner. "To be honest, I like it more than the shower, although I don't use it as much as I'd like."

  "I could have run you a bath," I said. Seeing her in bubbles and nothing else wouldn't have been a hardship.

  "I'm fine."

  The tension between us was going to kill me.

  She was feeling it too, and when I went to wash her hair, she nudged my hands away, taking over the task. Feeling out of place with a woman wasn't my normal, but then again, I didn't typically fuck up with women like I had with Michelle.

  I didn't do a lot of things like I had with Michelle.

  She slid out of the stall before I did, moving gingerly on her foot, and I twisted off the controls for the water without washing my hair. I had other things on my mind besides hygiene, and she was currently lowering herself to sit on the toilet so she could check out her foot.

  While she did that, I slung a towel around my hips and got out the first aid kit. She paled at the sight of it.

  "You don't much like doctors, I'm betting."

  "You're not a doctor," she said, her tone going waspish.

  "No. So you shouldn't have a problem letting me take a look then clean it up." Giving her the same charming smile I used the night we first met for dinner, I hunkered down in front of her. The towel didn't hold up to the strain, but I ignored it as it fell.

  Her eyes dipped. "You lost your towel."

  "I don't need it to check out your foot," I said, wrapping my fingers around her ankle.

  She didn't resist, but I wasn't sure if I was b
ecause I was now naked or if she didn't see the point in fighting. I wasn't going to question it though and hurriedly examined the cut before cleaning it with a wipe from the box, then dabbing it dry with a piece of gauze. The only band-aid big enough to cover it was huge, coming up over her heel on both sides, but at least it was covered now. The bleeding had stopped, and when I finished, I looked up to meet her eyes. "Did I hurt you?"

  "Yes," she whispered.

  "I'm sorry." I rubbed my thumb over her ankle. "I tried to be careful."

  "Not with that." She looked away but that didn't keep me from seeing the tear that broke free to roll down her cheek. "I know this was all supposed to be sex, but it ended up being more for me. I know it's stupid, and you don't have to worry about–"

  I cut the words off with a kiss, plunging my fingers into her hair and angling her head back.

  She sagged against me, and I had to fight the urge to pull her to the floor with me, bury myself in her, over and over again. It ended up being more for me...

  The words echoed inside me and I broke the kiss, pressing my forehead to hers.

  "It ended up being more for me too, Michelle. That's what scared me. That's why I acted like such a dick."

  She blinked, a flicker of disbelief, followed by confusion lighting her eyes.

  I went to elaborate, but decided this wasn't a conversation I wanted to have in a bathroom. I rose, then swept her up into my arms, ignoring her when she tried to tell me to put her down. "We're talking," I told her. "And we're not doing it in the bathroom."

  We ended up in her bedroom, because she was shivering slightly, and I wasn't exactly warm. I took the towel she had wrapped around her and used it to dry her hair before giving mine a cursory rub and tossing it over the foot of the bed. "This was just supposed to be sex," I said, sliding into the bed and pulling her up against me. "That's all this was supposed to be for both of us. I know you were getting ideas for your articles. I was able to be with a woman who wasn't paying me for it...we both got something. But it ended up being more for me too. You got in my way, Michelle."