Chapter Five
Jake
Leaning against Dakota's headboard, with her beautiful naked body tucked against me, I felt completely wrung out. We hadn’t been together for a day, yet it felt like we'd known each other for years. I thought about where I'd been only a little while ago: Sitting on my bed in the clubhouse, and deciding not to let Dakota get pulled down into the hell that is my life. As my resolutions went, that one probably had the shortest life span. She'd knocked my ass over, that's for sure.
It wasn't just the sex–which had been mind-fucking fantastic. And it wasn't because she was stunning–but damn she was the queen of hot. It was that everything she did, everything she said. It simultaneously surprised the shit out of me and it seemed exactly right. And, like me, she didn't need to always be talking. She didn't make up stories, and she didn't bother explaining why she wouldn't offer details. She told the parts she thought were necessary and left it at that. Just like me.
When I had told her the truth about my life–or, at least, the truest version I could tell someone I'd only met a day ago–and gave her the chance for an out I could not take myself, the answer she gave me was both pragmatic and hopeful. We also shared the hard experience of loss. Tragic loss. She made me feel like there was still a chance to find some peace in my life. I thought maybe she was that peace.
And holy shit, the sex. Tina and I had always had a decent sex life. Tina had been willing to do a lot. But I had never, ever had sex with the kind of animal heat I'd just shared with Dakota. The sounds she made… She was energetic and athletic, and so responsive that I had spent the whole time right on the edge of orgasm.
I'd had to dominate completely and force her to be still several times so that I wouldn't come all over her. There was no way I could have maintained myself if she'd put her hands–or, fuck, her mouth–around my cock. Thank God I was stronger than her.
But damn, she was strong. Thinking about the feel of her flexed legs against my head or my hips and her sweet ass clenched in my hands made my cock twitch, even now, when I was totally exhausted.
I looked down at her. She'd been lying quietly while I mulled. I wondered if she'd fallen asleep, because I was desperately hoping she hadn't. "Hey. You asleep?" I murmured, in case she was.
She hummed. "Mmmm. No. Just thinking."
I slid down and moved to my side so that my face was close to her beautiful, proportional face. “You still recovering from my greatness?” I smirked.
“Cocky bastard.” I loved her dirty mouth.
"You okay?"
She smiled. "Definitely. Just trying to work out what happened tonight. Seems like..."
"A lot.”
“Yeah.” She smiled, seeming more at ease.
“I was thinking about the same thing. Did you come up with an answer?"
She laughed. "Nice moves, Bad Boy. You sorted it so I'd have to go hang out on a limb first. Kudos."
"Yep. Smarter than you, I guess. Just call me Professor Hot stuff."
She punched my shoulder. "Okay, fine. What the hell. Life is risk, right?"
Then she was quiet. She lay on the pillow facing me. She was mussed and a little swollen. My stubble had roughed her cheeks up a little. But she was still perfect. She was my perfect.
Finally, she spoke again, barely above a whimper. "I know this is completely crazy. I have only been with one man. Since Jon… since… God, I don’t know… I just… I haven’t been with anyone since him. What happened tonight, to me, is that… is that I started to fall for you."
My heart clenched. I'd meant it when I told her she made it hurt. "Dakota." My voice was low and gruff. I wrapped my hand around the back of her neck and pulled her in for a long, slow, sweet kiss.
She pulled back. "Uh-uh, bud. I'm onto your wily scheme. No distractions. What happened to you tonight?"
My answer was much the same, but it seemed more complicated for me to explain. I didn't know where to begin, so I started with yesterday. "When you asked me to come by to look at the shovelhead, I was excited. More than excited about anything in a long time. I haven’t noticed any girl since Tina died, but when I saw you yesterday, I don't know… Something opened back up inside me. I spent the whole day thinking about you.
"But then I started thinking about my life. About what I've done. About what I do. What I will do. What happened to Tina… because of me. Sending my kid away from me, so she could be safe... I decided that I had no business trying to bring you into all that. I came to your house intending to be strictly business. Maybe some flirting ‘cos you know, I have my bad boy ghetto image to keep up.” We both laughed.
“Oh, such a bad boy.”
The look she gave me just then, gave me the urge to repeat the night again and again, but I continued. "You were standing there, and you are so fucking beautiful. And your house is so, I don't know, right. And you told me about Jon and Joshua. And what you said about being a passenger. And talking to you over the dinner you made me. Everything I saw, everything you said, it all was just right. I could feel you, somehow." I felt like I was rambling, so I stopped. "I don't know if I'm saying it right."
Dakota had not moved or made a sound. She was still looking into my eyes, and she didn't interject now, so I continued. "And then you took a ride with me. I wanted you more than anything. I couldn’t let you come into my life only to leave it, so I knew I had to give you a choice. You needed to know me. You didn't run when I told you about the way I live. And you made me believe that maybe you could live there with me."
I paused for a long time, trying to find the right words. This was too important to just fuck it up. Dakota just waited. It made her more beautiful to me. "So what happened tonight, to me, is that I felt like I could have something good in my life. And I started to fall for a girl who showed it to me."
I pulled her close and tucked her head under my chin. She wrapped her free arm around my waist and squeezed.
Despite the emotional intensity of the moment–or maybe because of it–I was again rock hard. Dakota was about as close to me as I could get her, and the feel of her firm, soft skin pressed against me, and her long, silky hair against my chest, had my inner caveman all wound up.
I didn't want to just jump on her. I needed to get some damn control of myself. The last twenty-four hours had seen me lose so much of it with her. I leaned up on my elbow and kissed her shoulder. And I got, for the first time yet, a view of her bare back. I'd almost forgotten about her ink, none of which was visible from the front. "Hey, babe. Can I take a look at your ink?" I needed a distraction.
She turned her head to look at me. She seemed indecisive at first, then smiled and rolled onto her stomach. Now I had a full view of her impressively toned back, the gentle, perfect swell of her ass, and the backs of her long, strong legs. I thought again how just fantastically breathtaking she was. She had a dimple on either side of her lower back, just above each cheek.
Not much of a distraction at all.
She had four tattoos on her back, all black and grey: An intricately patterned butterfly high behind her left shoulder; three zodiac symbols, one smaller than the others, wound together under that; and then, literally the centerpiece, an elaborate piece starting at the base of her spine and winding its way up just over her shoulder. It was a climbing rose plant.
The complicated vining went all the way up. At several points, starting near the base to just below her shoulder blades, a rose grew. The top four or five inches were nothing but vine. There were four fully bloomed roses and one bud, all done in black and grey with great detail. Under each rose a long, sharp thorn jutted out. A single drop of red–the only color on her back–dangled from the end of each thorn. A line of text traced the outline of the vine on the left side, reading up from the base in small, precise gothic lettering: ‘The rose and the thorn, and sorrow and happiness are linked together’.
I traced my fingers up along her spine. She flinched a little and looked over her shoulder at me. "They're beautiful. Especi
ally this one." I ran the backs of my fingers down to her waist. "Can you tell me about them?"
"The butterfly was my first tattoo. I got it when I was fifteen before I got pregnant. I was on some kind of rebellious streak after my father passed away. I wanted something that reflected the change I felt inside me.
“I got my zodiac symbol and Jon's entwined with Joshua's. Jon had one just like it.” She stopped and put her head back down.
"And the roses?" I wouldn't ask again. I understood when a story wasn't for sharing, and I was sure there'd be some turnabout soon enough. It would be awhile–if ever–before I could tell her the story of most of my tattoos.
"That's a work in progress, I guess. Each rose represents someone I love who died: My mom, who died giving birth to me; my dad; my grandma, who pretty much raised me; Jon; and… Joshua. Joshua is the bud… He didn't get a chance to bloom..."
Jesus… It killed me that she had suffered so much loss in her life. "Why do you say it's a work in progress?" I thought I knew the answer, and it sliced at my heart.
She lifted herself up on her elbows and turned her head more towards me so that she could meet my eyes fully. "I left space on top in case I need to add another rose." God, she was so unique. A real beauty.
I held her gaze for a few beats, and then leaned down to press a kiss to each rose and along the vine, working my way up to her neck. Her pulsing body was numbing my brain, heating my blood, setting it aflame. I could smell her skin; I wanted to taste her skin.
I stretched out along her back. Nuzzling at her shoulder, I felt her hand reach back to grip my hip as she pushed up against me. My erection nestled in the crack of her ass, and I groaned. Bloody hell.
She surprised me by pushing harder until she forced me to roll onto my back. She moved fast to straddle me. She was hot and wet and she felt so damn good resting on my cock.
I wanted to bend her over and hold her from the waist and have her until she snapped, but she grinned at me with a gleam in her eye. "Me," she said. I wanted to roar out loud when she said that. She made me feel so primal. She took my face in her hands and leaned down to kiss me fiercely. I put my hands on her thighs, but she broke the kiss and took my hands in hers. She pulled them up over my head. "Me," she repeated with more force. She moved down to settle between my legs. I grabbed her headboard.
She took my cock in her hand, and I knew at once that I was going to struggle to keep myself together. When she leaned in to lick and gently suckle my balls, the fight was all but over. Desperate not to act like a teenage virgin, I closed my eyes and started thinking about motorcycle parts.
She slid her hand down my length and back several times, then moved up and took me in her mouth. She held the base of my shaft with one hand, squeezing gently and steadily, and cupped my balls in the other, running her thumb back and forth across the sensitive flesh. When I felt her taking more of me, then even more, then all of me, into her mouth, I had to look. Christ.
She slid me out almost to the tip and looked up at me, still with me in her mouth. When she saw me looking at her, she smiled and swirled her tongue around my tip. I moaned and flexed my hips up. She pulled me all the way out. Fucking hell! And slowly ran both hands down my length, squeezing just a little as she went. Then she put me into her mouth again and sucked me all the way down.
When she had all of me in her mouth, down her throat, she hummed. Fuck. Fuck. Holy Jesus. Fuck.
I swung my hands down and grabbed her arms. "Dakota! Babe, stop. Please stop. Fuck. Please."
She released me and looked up, worried, her cheeks reddening. "Did I do something wrong?"
"No! It's fucking amazing. But I want to finish with you, and I won't be able to if you don't stop right now."
She smiled and moved up. She rose up on her knees and took me in her hand. I shivered. She straddled me again. She held me as she slid inch by slow inch down on me. I grabbed her hips and held her down. "Just… just let's be still a minute, okay?"
She laid her chest on me and kissed my neck. She nipped at my ear and whimpered, "It makes me so hot to know you're that close." She flexed her hips. I sucked in my breath and started listing motorbike manufacturers alphabetically in my head.
When she pushed herself back up, I released her hips and took her perfect breasts in each hand, rubbing her hard nipples with my thumbs. I pinched, and she tipped her head back and moaned. Her hips flexed again. Every muscle in my body was tensed with the strain of holding back. I had an idea. "Don't move yet."
She looked down at me and nodded, her mouth open. I moved one hand down between her thighs and found her wet clit with my thumb. She gasped. Kneading her breast, rolling and pinching its nipple, with one hand, and massaging her clit with the other, I said, "Okay. Move the way you want."
She didn't at first. She just closed her eyes, making small whimpering sounds. I felt her contract her inner muscles around me. Then she grabbed her other breast in her own hand and twisted at her nipple. I had to close my eyes for a second–that was way too fucking hot.
Her breath started coming in harsh bursts. I pinched just a little harder and rubbed just a little faster, and she started to move on me, rolling and circling and flexing her hips. I could feel my orgasm approaching again–it hadn't been far away. I kept my own hips still and let her move until she opened her eyes and leaned over me, her hands clutching at my chest.
I grabbed her hips. She was bucking hard and fast on me, her eyes locked on mine, and I couldn't hold back any longer. I held her down tight while I thrusted up into her. We came together with a roar and a cry, and Dakota practically collapsed onto my chest.
I could still feel her spasms around me; every time she did, my cock twitched inside her. I wanted that very moment to spool out into forever, and then forever would be over and anticipation would eat me alive and I would consume her too. She was my desire and my dream.
She made a purring kind of noise, and kissed my chest. I wrapped my arms around her, and we were just still.
After a while, Dakota lifted her head, kissed me chastely on the cheek and rolled off me. She yawned and sat up, looking dazed. I rolled onto my side and pulled her back down to me. With her back to my front, we nested liked spoons. I kissed her shoulder, and her temple, and settled my arm around her waist. She linked her fingers with mine. I found myself counting the pale hairs on the nape of her neck, and stroking down all the way to the end of her spine. I could feel my heart beating strongly against her. There was such serenity in her; such trust that calmed me so easily.
I felt better.
For me, she was better.
We fell asleep together without saying another word.
***
I woke with a start, fully aware that I was in Dakota's bed. I also understood right away that I was alone. For a second, I was worried I’d been dreaming. I raised my head just as my phone went off. I had a vague sense that it had been going off already, and that was what had woken me up.
I clambered out of bed–I was exhausted from last night–and found my jeans in a heap on the floor at the end of the bed. I dug my phone out of the pocket and looked at it. Dixon. Fuck.
As I flipped the phone open, I realized that I could hear and smell some mouth-watering breakfast happening in the kitchen. I smiled and answered the phone.
"Yeah, bro?"
"Jake. Where are you, bro? You okay?"
I pulled the phone from my ear to look at the time. Shit. After nine. I never slept late. "I'm good. Uh, there a problem?"
There was a short pause. "Nah, man. I was just surprised you weren't here. You sure everything's okay?"
"Yeah, Dixon. I'm good. I'll be in in an hour or so. Make that two."
"All right." I could tell Dixon was curious, at least. "Don’t forget the Lock today."
"Got it. I'll be in soon, brother. No worries." I hung up.
I smelled fresh coffee as I pulled my jeans on. I left the room leaving them mostly unbuttoned, my belt loose in its loops, and walked to t
he doorway. Dakota was standing at the stove scrambling eggs. Her long hair was caught back in a ponytail, and she was wearing a little white tank top and a pair of plaid pajama bottoms resting low on her hips.
Top and bottom didn't quite meet, and I was transfixed by the exposed couple of inches of her flat stomach and curved hip. She looked over at me, checked me out, her eyes holding on my open fly–which was only fair, I thought–and smiled.
"Hey, my advice would be to not look. The only way you’re gonna survive today, Beauty.” She rolled her eyes as she smiled.
“I think it’s you that needs to take that advice. My bed hair will have you begging for me.” Her humor was so damn sexy. “There's coffee on the counter behind me. I don't know how you like your eggs, but I figured scrambled was the default. Toast is coming up."
"Wow. Sounds great. But I gotta attend to the man, first."
She nodded. "I'll get your coffee started. How do you like it?"
"Black. Thanks."
After I finished my business in the toilet, I buttoned my fly and fastened my belt as I came out of the bathroom. I'd realized while I was taking a piss that there was something important we'd missed last night, and we needed to have a talk. But when I came out, Dakota was sitting at the island with her breakfast; the place next to her was set with a mug of steaming coffee and a plate of scrambled eggs and toast. There was jam and honey and a pitcher of juice.
The homey sight made my heart lurch. The talk could wait a few minutes. I walked over and kissed her forehead, my hand on the back of her head. Then I sat down next to her and dug in.
I looked up as I was scooping eggs into my mouth and saw her watching me. Feeling a little self-conscious, I finished chewing and swallowed. "What?"
She laughed. "Sorry. I was just checking you out. You are one seriously hot cocky bastard, you know."
I grinned and took a sip of coffee. It was hot and strong and excellent. "Oh, don’t I know it, babe. Mmm. The coffee's perfect." I finished my breakfast, cleared my throat, pushed my plate back a couple of inches and turned to face her. "Dakota, we need to talk about something. About last night."
Beauty and the Bad Boy Page 6
