The Sweetest Jerk #2 (The Sweetest Jerk Series, #2)

by Ava Claire

  “Amazing?” she repeated incredulously. “Because I scarfed down half a piece of salmon in under a minute?”

  There was no way I was going to let her think this was about fish and date etiquette. “Because you dive right in, take no prisoners, and it’s a beautiful and sexy thing. You’re an incredible woman, Natalee.”

  The last time I’d attempted to bare my heart, she looked ready to bolt.

  Take two was no different.

  Panic flashed in her eyes and I wanted to strangle myself for not playing it cool. Playing it cool was my thing. But with her, I was all thumbs.

  And then I realized that once again, I was making it about me. Maybe her panic, her hesitation to let me in, to let me state the obvious, was because she’d heard those lines before. Because she’d been hurt. By me, on New Year’s Eve. By whoever came before me. And now, she was questioning everything. Wondering if this was all some elaborate game.

  So I spoke from the heart, because that was all I could do. “It means a lot to me that you came here tonight. It’s not something I take lightly.”

  She started back in on the salmon, her movements jerky and nervous. “Me either. But you should know—if some Titanic type shit goes down, I am so not offering you space on my raft.”

  I brought a hand to my chest like she’d injured me. “That’s cold blooded, Nat. Though this ship was named after a cold blooded woman, so I guess it’s serendipity.”

  “Ah, Sampson and Delilah,” Natalee mused, taking a swig of her white wine. “Lauren told me this used to be your grandfather’s boat. That he designed every square inch of it. Was he religious?”

  “Not especially,” I confided, recalling the story from bits and pieces shared by my mother and coyly garnered from Grandpa. Mom hated the name. Hated to admit that she came from humble beginnings instead of royalty. “My grandmother was a singer. ‘Delilah’ was her stage name.”

  Natalee put down her glass, rubbing her hands together excitedly. “Now this sounds like a good story.”

  She was so riveted, hanging on my words. I felt like someone had lassoed the moon and brought it close enough that the luminescence kissed her skin. The stars glittered in her eyes. This was the first date I wished I’d given her. The romance that I used to run from like all hell would break loose if I let my guard down.

  Sharing this with her wasn’t scary. I wanted her to know me. And I wanted to know her.

  “My grandfather was in the Navy, and was home on leave. He always kept to himself. Kept out of trouble. One night he let his friends talk him into going to this club. His friends paired off and he was just about to call it a night when this smoky voice crooned from the stage. Everyone was entranced by my grandmother, but she sang every song to Grandpa.” I chuckled to myself, remembering that the first time I’d heard this story I’d definitely plugged my ears and rolled my eyes at the sappy parts. “They courted for a few weeks before he asked her to marry him—and they were married for fifty eight years.” The nerve beneath my eye twitched and I cleared my throat. I even took a few gulps of wine, but it did nothing for the burn. Nothing for the wave of nostalgia and missing them.

  “Fifty eight years? Wow,” Natalee said softly. “That’s amazing, Jason. Stories like that make you believe in love, you know?” She found my eyes in the dark and I could hear her unspoken question.

  Do you believe in love, Jason?

  She broke away, taking a bite of her salad and retreating back behind her own personal barbed wire. “I never knew my grandparents. My dad was raised by his father, who died in a car accident before I was born. And my mother is estranged from her mom. My parents have been married for twenty, long years.”

  She raised her eyebrows when she said ‘long’ and a familiar twitch seized my heart. I knew the pain of parental disappointment all too well.

  “My mom rules the house with an iron fist and my dad stopped fighting a long time ago,” she finished with a bitter chuckle.

  “I see your unhappily married parents and raise you an unhappily married set of my own. They made everyone around them miserable and did me a ‘favor’-” I made disgusted air quotes with my fingers. “By waiting until I graduated from high school until they got divorced.” It had been a long time since that awkward announcement, but the sting of it still took my breath away. “My dad? His latest girlfriend just celebrated her 21st birthday. And my mother sends me periodic emails from the beach, nestled beside her new real estate tycoon hubby and their ankle biter mutts.”

  Natalee refilled my glass, then hers. “Here’s to love!” she said sarcastically, raising her glass.

  “How about we drink to us?” I countered tentatively.

  She lowered her glass an inch. “To us?”

  “Mmhm. To a jerk who doesn’t deserve the woman sitting across from him. And a man who wants to spend the gift that he’s been given showing her that he’s more than that. That she makes him want to be more.”

  Natalee pondered it, wetting her lips so many times that my cock ached, wanting those lips wrapped around me.

  Don’t judge—I may be more than a jerk, but I’m only human.

  Finally, she raised her glass, touching hers to mine. “To new beginnings.”

  I didn’t even like white wine, but it went down like the sweetest nectar.

  Almost as sweet as Natalee.

  I balled my fists beneath the table, grateful for some cover for the darker part of me. The part that was struggling to sit here and not make good use of the bed behind us. She made me feel unhinged. Out of control. It was hot...and about as terrifying as letting her peek behind the curtain. Admitting that I wasn’t perfect. Letting her see the ugliness and all the reasons she should walk away.

  Like fate had enough of pretending that a sinner like me could get the girl, Natalee pushed back from the table, delicately covering her plate with her napkin. Without looking me in the eye, she headed back into the bedroom. This wasn’t like Crave, where her signals, her body language, screamed that she wanted me.

  Her silence was telling me that she wanted to call it a night.

  Before I rose to my feet, I told myself that if she wanted to say goodbye, I’d respect that. The jerk? He’d push her against the door before she could walk out of it. He’d make this whole thing about him. About his pride.

  I wouldn’t do that to her.

  Not anymore.

  She lifted the rose from the pillow and brought it to her nose. I told myself if she took it, even if she was on the way out the door, maybe there would be some good memories to counter the bad.

  She brought the flower to her chest and...walked right past the door.

  Back to me.

  With lust burning in her gaze, her lips slightly parted, she searched my face like she was trying to see what was underneath. My heart pounded in my ears like a drum and every part of me was alive with want. With need. Breathlessly waiting for her to prove this wasn’t a dream. A mirage that would disappear before I had a chance to gorge myself.

  Francois had culinary skills like no other, but I was hungry for something else.

  I was hungry for Natalee.

  She paused at the doorway, the rose nestled between her breasts. “I’ve seen parts of you. The charmer. The man who knows how to fuck.”

  That hot little mouth of hers rounded the word in such a way that my cock pulsed with anticipation.

  “And I’ve seen the jerk.” She didn’t say that word with the energy that she could have. With pain. With anger. She said it matter-of-factly, like it was something that happened, and she was ready to move forward.

  She held out the flower to me. “You said there’s more.” Her eyes darkened to emerald slits that gleamed with passion. “Show me.”

  ~

  It was more than a challenge.

  It was an opportunity.

  It was surrender.

  She was offering more than just her body, offering something much more fragile.

  Her heart.

 
I accepted the rose, gently placing it in the vase with the other.

  Her eyes glowed up at me, her cheeks warm as I cupped her face in my hands. I felt her warmth, her fear, her need flowing through her and into me.

  I savored every heartbeat, her impatience, lips upturned for the kiss she knew was coming. It told me that taking my time was exactly what the doctor ordered.

  I leaned in, my mouth hovering above hers. Her breath was my breath and we tasted of wine and erotic promises.

  I brought my fingers to her lips, teasing them both, groaning with suppressed desire as her tongue flicked against my fingertips. Without warning, she took me by the elbow and thrusted my fingers into her mouth. Her eyes crinkled at the discomfort, laced with pleasure.

  Fuck.

  She liked it rough.

  Good, I thought deliciously, replacing my fingers with my mouth, my tongue exploring hers, teasing it, swirling around it as I clutched her wanton body to mine. She tried to snake her hand between our bodies to find my bulge, to free it, but this time, I was in control.

  I gripped her wrists, just hard enough that she gasped, her surprise melting into a moan.

  “More,” she begged. With her eyes. With her body.

  I tested her, letting go of her wrists to see where she’d wander, but she kept them where I left them, gathered at the delicious juncture of her thighs.

  My voice should have wavered because she was igniting things in me I’d never felt, but my words came out husky and sure.

  But would she obey?

  “Go to the bed,” I told her, tugging at her braid, the thrill of us filling me up and leaving no room for doubt. “Strip for me, then lie on the bed.”

  She bit her bottom lip, a devilish smile of delight teasing me. "Okay."

  She dashed back into the room and stood at the foot of the bed. I wanted to touch myself, to bury myself inside her, and her gaze told me she wanted the same thing. She didn't even pay attention to what she was doing because she was too busy fucking me with her eyes.

  Watching her, this strong, sexy, powerful woman who was in a hurry to get naked, who wanted me so badly that she looked ready to just tear her pants to shreds, emboldened me. Hardened me to rock beneath my jeans. Jeans that were becoming increasingly uncomfortable. But watching her beg me to show it to her without saying a word, longing for it, made me make her wait. Forced me to dig deep because I had plans for her body long before I got to my own.

  "I'm done," she huffed, looking almost innocent as she coyly gazed at me from behind thick lashes.

  Done?

  Not quite.

  Even though my own patience was running thin, I knew she'd be worth the wait. And when I touched her, if I played my cards right, she'd melt.

  I strode to the vanity, dragging back a chair, delight shooting up my spine that the screech against the hardwood floor was as jarring as I'd hoped it would be.

  I put the chair in front of the french doors and eased myself into the seat. In her enthusiasm, I bet she'd forgotten about a key part of her instructions, but I was still learning her. Figuring out how she ticked. Actions, or in this case, inaction, had consequences.

  And maybe Natalee was fishing for a consequence or two.

  Her breathing was as steady as the water beneath us. Waiting. I didn't meet her gaze, even though I was dying to see just how hot she was. How wet she was before I even touched her. It would be glowing in those eyes, defiant and filled with desire.

  But I wanted to drink her in.

  Slow.

  Leave no stone unturned.

  I started at the floor, her toes curling into the wood. I glided over her calves, practically feeling the muscles beneath my fingertips from ten feet away. She smoothed her palms along her thighs, self consciousness bringing her to cover that wet, erotic part of herself, but when I cleared my throat, she dropped her hands back to her side. A narrow strip of brown curls hid her sex and from the way she rubbed her thighs together, she was longing to be explored.

  I made my way over her hips, past her navel, and paused when I hit the swell of her breasts. I almost forgot all about taking my time because the only thing I really wanted when I saw the angry, swollen blush of her nipples was to take them in my mouth.

  Before I lost control I finally gripped her green eyes. "Bed."

  I was treated to another little gasp that made my next move harder than it should have been. Tell me to fuck you would come soon enough.

  Right now, I just wanted her to spread her legs.

  She scrambled onto the bed, letting out a half hearted apology that gave me my answer.

  She wanted to be punished.

  I rose to my feet, knowing what I wanted to do. Surprised by the solution came to me so quickly. This kind of play was only something I'd dabbled in. I wasn't a Dom per se, but I liked being in charge. In the past,nI enjoyed encounters where a woman was completely at mercy. But with Natalee, it was different.

  She was giving me a gift: her body, her nearly flawless obedience, and trusting me to lead us both where we wanted to go.

  I advanced toward the bed, taking her in.

  Her knees pressed together.

  Her fingertips stroking her stomach. Her breasts.

  I slipped my belt through the loops and when she saw what I was doing and put two and two together, she stopped stroking.

  Asking her if this was okay pulled us both out of the heat of the moment. I knew that Natalee was a woman who would speak up if I crossed a line or boundary. And I was curious—just how kinky was she?

  I paused at the side of the bed, roping my belt around my fist, leaving the tiniest bit of leather. Enough to sting.

  "On the balcony," I began, drinking in her curiosity. Her anticipation. "What did I ask of you, Nat?"

  It was the second time I'd used her nickname, and it rolled right off my tongue. It felt...right.

  From the way she bit back a smile, she agreed.

  "You told me to strip, then to lie on the bed," she murmured. Grinding against the mattress.

  I couldn't help myself. I leaned down with my free hand, smoothing the gentle curls at the nape of her neck. It was a brief reprieve as I narrowed my eyes and rested my hand on her neck. Reading the way her breathing changed as I traced her collarbone. "And what should I do to you since you didn't follow instructions?"

  A full on smile gripped her lips and dimmed when she realized this was supposed to be a punishment. She swallowed and her nerves, her acquiescence, turned me on like nothing before.

  She looked me dead in the eyes and whispered, "You should do whatever you want to do."

  I gripped the belt with both hands, having my answer.

  My permission to use her as I saw fit.

  I rounded the bed, returning to the foot. I gripped one of her ankles and without a word, without hesitation, I pulled her down the length of the bed until her legs spilled over the edge. I worked the leather over her body, starting with her feet, her calves, her inner thigh. She gripped the sheets in her fist, anticipating me veering to her pussy. Wet and spread for me. I bypassed it with a smirk, using the buckle to tease her navel. Round her breasts.

  I flexed the belt and snapped it against her breast. She shuddered, letting out something that sounded a bit like a prayer other than the 'freaking' between ‘oh my’ and 'God'.

  "Not God," I mused, taking the nipple I'd struck between my teeth and tugging. "Jason."

  "Not God?" she countered. Arching her back. Vaulting those perfect breasts of hers in my face. "I guess this really is a new beginning."

  I chuckled, but there was nothing amusing about the whimper she let out when I tossed aside the belt and spanked her pussy with my hand. I let out a moan of my own when I sank my fingers inside her. Felt how wet she was for me.

  But that wasn't enough. I wanted to taste her desire. To drown in it.

  "Get up on the bed," I commanded and she scrambled to obey, her legs falling open. I dove between her thighs, teasing her soft folds with m
y tongue. Grinding my hardness into the mattress as she writhed and thrusted herself against my mouth.

  I’d been in awe of her frenzy to take her clothes off, but I was just as hurried. Wanting to put my throbbing desire where it belonged.

  She tangled her fingers in my hair, pulling me deeper, making my scalp tingle from her adamant tugs. She couldn't get enough, but she'd be damned if she didn't try.

  All of my steadiness, my calm evaporated when I tore open a condom wrapper, sliding the latex over my shaft.

  I braced myself on the headboard, looking down at her, a smile in her eyes as she spread wider for me. Pulled me in with her eyes, then wrapped her legs around me and pulled me in with her body.

  We collided, her nails making hot, stinging lines down my back. Every thrust took me deeper. I was lost in her, and that should have been terrifying, but there was only pleasure, right here and right now.

  I came with a roar and she bucked up to meet me, her body seizing me, riding the wave of bliss until neither of us had anything left.

  The sound of the water and the hints of whatever classical music Lauren was jamming to downstairs wafted into the room. I wanted this high last, but the melodic jingle of Natalee’s cell phone put an end to that.

  Natalee let out a groan that told me she was no more enthused about climbing off our island than I was, but she was halfway there, tossing off the covers.

  "Voicemail?" I offered, giving her an out if she wanted.

  "Tempting," she sighed, scooting off the edge. "But Tamara is holding down the fort and I told her to call if there was an emergency."

  She fished through her purse and tapped the screen before she cradled it between her shoulder and ear. "I hope the shop is on-" She frowned, meeting my eyes. "What are you talking about?" She dropped her eyes to the floor, and turned her back to me, headed back out on the balcony. "Right, we're on the boat and-wait, how do you know I’m on a boat?” She gasped. "There are pictures of us?! But how and-” She let out a choking sound. “But he wouldn’t...he said...” She fell silent for a moment and even from the bed, I felt her shaking. “And this woman, she mentioned Delilah?"