Maybe he’s just sexually frustrated. That could be it.
I guess it’s best to just leave him alone. But I’m feeling restless, for some reason. That look he gave me when we were alone in the attic has sort of burned itself into my body, like a hot, pulsing echo. As soon as I noticed the outline of his huge erection inside his jeans, my pussy started tingling and my panties got wet. Really wet. I still feel all warm down there and sort of slippery.
I think about going to change my panties and decide I might as well take a shower.
I go up to my room and notice the door going up the attic stairs is open a little. It’s just me and him, alone. Knowing this is strangely exciting. He seems so untamed. He obviously has some sort of anger issues and possibly all kinds of other issues I wouldn’t even attempt to guess at.
It’s weird: I just have this feeling I could touch him in some way. To ease some of that rage and soften it into something else.
All the men I’ve ‘been with’ – if you could even call it that – have been upper-middle-class nerds, basically. Mild-mannered academics and professional-types with mortgage payments and facebook accounts and four-wheel-drive SUVs that have never once been muddied.
Jake Wolfe is nothing like those men. He’s a total wild card.
I wonder what it would be like to entice him. To feel him take out all that rage and aggression. On me. Would he hurt me?
I go into the bathroom and shut the door. I take off all my clothes. God. My panties are saturated. How did Jake Wolfe do that? I’ve sat on men’s laps and let them fondle and kiss my breasts and even finger my pussy through the thin layer of my underwear and never gotten as turned on as I am right now. Just remembering how strong and tan his arms were, with that wolf tattoo. How big and straining that bulge in his pants was. How dark that look …
My breasts are full and sensitive. I’m so wet that a trickle of moisture drips down the skin of my inner thigh. My pussy feels hot and swollen and … ripe, weirdly.
I feel kind of crazy. Something needs to happen and I’m not sure what.
Just then the door swings open and I stand there in total shock. I almost scream but I can’t find my voice.
Jake.
I forgot to lock the door.
He’s shocked, too, but it quickly turns to something else. He’s standing there sort of towering over me with his big frame and his dark, smoldering eyes. His hair is thick. The scent of him is intoxicating. He reeks of masculinity and sex.
His gaze drops to my full breasts, and lower.
I can’t think.
He should go.
I should ask him to go but I can’t speak.
Slowly, his hand lifts and hovers before gently gliding down my breast to graze my nipple. Just that light, rough touch almost makes my knees buckle as a wash of heat ignites my entire body, centering in a hot, pulsing throb in my juicy core.
He’s looking at me like a hungry predator. Like he plans on eating me alive.
His hand moves and before I even know what’s happening he – slowly – touches two fingers to my warm, wet pussy in a bold, careful slide.
I moan a small gasp and blush as the sound of my own arousal embarrasses me.
If he keeps touching me like this, I’ll come. I’ve never come from a man’s touch before. The only time I’ve climaxed – twice – was from my own fingers, alone, late at night, in the dark.
It felt nothing like this. The dark danger that clings to Jake Wolfe excites me beyond anything I’ve experienced before. I want him to do things to me. Dirty, lewd, forceful things that will change me and kill me with pleasure.
But then, slowly, he removes his touch. His aggressive glare annihilates me as he raises his fingers to his mouth and sucks off the shiny moisture.
“Sweet Zara,” he says, and the tone of his husked, deep voice is almost scolding. “Stay away from me. I’m not good. Not for you or anyone else. Don’t tempt me like this again or I’ll hurt you and use you. From now on, lock your doors.”
Then he turns and walks out, closing the door behind him.
Holy fuck.
This is not going to work.
I can’t handle this.
The girl is insane. Strutting around all naked and hot. Jesus, she was wet. Why is she walking around like that, all horny and ready for me? Like bait. Like she’s intentionally trying to lure me with that plumped little pussy all slick with her arousal.
Right downstairs.
And there’s no one else here.
I break rules, it’s what I do. I use people, it’s who I am. And it took every goddamn shred of resistance I possess – which isn’t much – not to lift her up and slide her onto my raging, throbbing erection and fuck her right there against the wall.
I’m pacing back and forth in the goddamn attic and I take out my cock and rub my fist along the thick length of it. It’s too fucking bright in here so I turn off some of the goddamn lamps and lie on the bed. I think about those spectacular breasts with their beaded little cherry-pink nipples and that sweet, sweet pussy. The way she tasted. Like prime, upper-class candy.
I want so bad to get inside all that. She’s be so soft, so tight, oh-so-fucking-wet.
Was she wet for me? Of course she was. She’d shyly glanced at my hard-on earlier and her eyes lit quietly like girls’ eyes do, that primal urge stroked, that female curiosity piqued. She wants it. She wants me to grip her ass hard in my hands and spread her pussy lips open with my cock, to force my way inside all that juicy beauty, to finger her clit as I thrust deep.
I come hard, thick ropes of cum spurting across my stomach and chest.
Fuck.
It takes the edge off but I’m a million miles from sated.
I take off my clothes and use my t-shirt to clean myself up a little. I lay back on the bed and listen to the soft patter of raindrops on the roof.
God, I hate that sound.
I hate what it takes me back to.
My eyes close and I wish I wasn’t so fucked up.
Because I’m drifting now, in directions I don’t want to go but I can’t stop it from happening. I’m tired and the haze of sleep starts to overtake me, swallowing me into its dark depths.
Zara’s there and she’s just so lovely. For a few seconds, the darkness in me lifts almost entirely. She’s naked and her skin is radiant and perfect. Her breasts are full and young. Her pussy is pink and glistening and I’m so hard and I want her so much I think I might go mad. I want her to touch me and fix me. She’s smiling at me and she reaches for my hand.
But she can’t quite reach me. She tries but I’m disappearing. Fading away. I’m losing myself.
Again.
The pull of the darkness is too strong and too dark.
Don’t go, I want to yell to her. Please don’t leave me.
But she’s gone now. Gone. Lost to the pink and the gold and the light.
The blackness is all I can see and I’m alone now.
Very, very alone.
In the dark.
I’m lonely.
It’s quiet and I can remember everything now, even though I don’t want to. I wish I could forget. To reboot my soul so I was clean and happy.
I look around. I know where I am.
I could listen to our radio or read some of the books we get from the library. We don’t have a t.v. We live in the old shack behind his house and tonight Alexander is at one of the after-school jobs he has to do so we can eat.
I wish Alexander would come back. Or take me to work like he sometimes does. He doesn’t take me with him to this late one, though, where he works washing dishes in a restaurant. Alexander thinks it makes me too tired for school and his boss doesn’t like me there.
I’m scared.
I promised not to tell my brother what happens when he comes.
We both know Alexander would kill him. Kill him. Knife him or strangle him with his bare hands. So I’m not allowed to tell. If I do, he’ll kill Alexander, he says. If Alexander doesn
’t kill him first, but there’s always that possibility that he won’t be able to. And then I’ll be all alone in the whole world.
I could kill him. I could try.
The door opens.
The sickening doom is everywhere, all around me, thick in the humid air of this dim, dingy room.
I close my eyes.
After he left the bathroom I took a few minutes to regroup and let my heartbeat return to semi-normal.
Oh my freaking god!
I couldn’t believe that. The way he touched me like that and practically got me off just with his brooding glance and his fingers.
I finally, after all those professors’ failed efforts, understand what lust actually feels like and it is intense.
Maybe Jake Wolfe is my dream lover. I’m not delusional enough to think we’ll fall in love and live happily ever after but what I do think is that he could give me the kind of education all the PhDs in the world can’t provide.
Orgasms 101, 202 and 303. A crash course in climaxing.
I finish my shower and put on my pyjamas, which are a pink pair of silky shorts and a silk teddy. And nothing else. I don’t care if sees me like this. I want him to see me. I want to tempt him again and see what happens. There’s no way in hell I can resist playing with this fire. Jake Wolfe is without a doubt the most physically beautiful human being I’ve ever seen in my life. His nearness and his hair and his eyes and his tattoo and that enormous, hard cock in his pants are literally all I can think about.
I go downstairs and look at the clock. 8:52. Later than I thought.
I pour myself a glass of wine and don’t bother with dinner. I don’t usually drink wine but I feel like it tonight. Looks like Jake’s a no-show anyway, not that I expected him. I wonder what he’s doing up there. Maybe he’s gone out the back entrance and disappeared into the night.
I notice then that it’s raining outside and I hear the low rumble of thunder off in the distance, followed soon after by a flash of lightning.
I used to be so scared of thunder.
Me too.
I wonder if Jake Wolfe’s scared now. I laugh a little at the thought. Mr. Toughguy would never admit it even if he was. But then I start wondering about his damages. About what gave him that scar on his face and caused those bruise-like shadows under his eyes.
The house phone rings and I answer it.
“Zara? It’s Alexander Wolfe here.”
“Hi, Alexander.”
“Is Jake there? I tried calling his phone but he’s not answering.”
“I think he’s upstairs.”
“Could you tell him I’m coming by tomorrow? I’ll be there around eleven. There’s some stuff I really need to talk to him about so if you don’t mind telling him tonight to make sure to be there in the morning, I’d appreciate it. In case he’s planning on taking off somewhere.”
I’ll have to go up into the attic. And knock on his door. “Um … okay.”
“Thanks.” Alexander sounds tentative when he says, “Everything all right?”
“Fine. As I said, I haven’t really seen him.” Except once.
“Okay. Thanks, Zara. See you later.”
He hangs up and I take another sip of my wine. I decide to take the bottle upstairs, to see if Jake wants some. Since I now have a message to deliver. I mean I can’t really not go up there and tell him what Alexander politely asked me to.
Stay away from me. I’ll hurt you and use you. Lock your doors.
The storm’s getting closer. The thunder’s louder. When I was little I used to think thunder was the world cracking open and falling apart. Now I know better of course but there’s still something ominous about it. Something that reminds you that everything is finite. That one day the world will end so we might as well make the most of the time we have.
That’s just me, though: I’m sort of a Seize The Day kind of girl.
Or Seize The Night, as it is.
My feet are bare and I don’t make any noise as I climb up the second staircase to Jake’s attic. My heart’s beating fast and I wonder if I should change. But no. Screw you, Jake Wolfe, with your dark eyes and your ominous warnings. It’s my damn house.
The door’s open a crack and I can see a sliver of light from the darkness of the staircase.
I knock gently but there’s no answer.
I push the door open a little further.
“Jake?” I say softly.
No answer.
I push the door open a little more. I see him, stretched out on the bed.
He’s sleeping.
There’s only one lamp still on so the room is dimly, softly lit. He’s lying on his back with his chest bare and the sheet draped low over his stomach.
He looks so big, all stretched out like that with his bronzed skin and his dark hair and his long, muscular body. So outrageously male. His scent is in the air, of manliness. Of wood and cinnamon, sun and smoke.
“Jake?” I say again, quietly. I kind of wish I didn’t have to deliver this message now. To wake him up. There’s something a little intimidating about the prospect, now that I’m up here.
I put the wine on the desk and sit on the far edge of the bed. I can’t help staring at the spectacular lines of his chest. He looks even more buff with his shirt off, with all those brawny muscles perfectly defined. There’s the tattoo of the wolf I noticed earlier and another one on his right shoulder, of a beautifully-drawn dragon, curling over his shoulder and down his arm, breathing fire. There’s a tattoo of a cross over his heart. He has more scars on his chest. One, the largest, is a pale crescent against his tanned skin. And there are more: six or seven smaller ones.
How would a person even get scars like that?
His thick hair falls artfully around his face. His strong jaw is shadowed with stubble.
Damn, he’s beautiful. Absolutely stunning, in a dark, rugged sort of way.
“Jake,” I whisper again.
He stirs a little and moves his legs, causing the sheet to fall lower.
Oh God.
Very low, in fact.
So low I can see the head of his extremely-hard, extremely-large cock.
Holy hell.
Doesn’t the man have any downtime? How can he sleep like that? It looks dusky and hot, almost painfully rigid.
I could ease your pain, Jake Wolfe, is what I find myself thinking.
Another roll of thunder. Jake moves again, displacing the sheet even more. He thrashes a little and mumbles something in his sleep. He sounds almost distressed, but then he quiets again.
Now he’s fully in view.
Jesus.
He’s a masterpiece, no doubt about it. I’ve never seen anyone, or anything, quite so impressive as this.
I could so easily take him in my hands. He would think I was just a beautiful dream. I know what to do. I’ve watched men do it to themselves, onto me. I could even suck him as I stroked him with tender, tight fists. Until he comes.
I’ve never done that to a man before, but now, at the sight of this, of him, my mouth waters.
I want him to come. I want to give him that. I want introduce some tenderness and beauty into his life, where maybe there hasn’t been enough of it before.
I almost do it.
But no.
Best to wait until he’s at least conscious, in case … well, in case he doesn’t want me to.
And this could be more than a little awkward if he wakes up, with me sitting here marvelling over his body as he sleeps.
Very, very carefully, I move closer and pull the sheet up to his stomach so it’s covering him.
“Jake,” I say again.
I lean over him and touch my fingertips to his shoulder.
“Jake –”
Jake’s eyes open and he stares at me but his gaze is black and empty, like he’s not fully there. Then he reaches up and grabs me with an iron-like grip and pushes me onto the bed in one forceful heave, so I’m lying on my back and he’s straddling me and pinning me down
with his huge, heavy weight. I can feel his big, hard erection like a steel rod against my stomach and his bare chest presses against my breasts as he holds me down.
And then his hands close around my neck.
I can’t breathe.
Oh my god, he’s going to kill me!
No one will know. No one’s here to save me or hear me scream even if I could.
I thrash against him and try to push him off me but he’s far too strong.
Something in his eyes changes, though, like my panicked movement has woken him up. A crazy montage of emotion plays across his expression, first of a horrific fear that’s excruciating even to witness, it’s so raw and so real. And then, as his consciousness takes hold, I can read his shock and remorse and an intense relief, that whatever he was dreaming about is fading away. He realizes what he’s doing to me and his grip around my throat instantly loosens and falls away.
But Jake doesn’t let me go. He doesn’t move or make any attempt to get off me. He must weigh at least twice as much as me and there’s no way in hell I can dislodge him.
I’m completely at his mercy.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he says and his voice is savage and rasped. “I could’ve fucking hurt you.”
“Your …” – I gasp – “… your brother called.”
He adjusts his weight and holy god his big, hard erection is right there and I realize that my struggle has caused my loose little shorts – with nothing underneath – to bunch up. To bare my pussy. He’s touching me there. With his huge, hot cock. The lips of my sex are cradling him intimately and I’m trapped like this. I struggle a little but it only makes it worse. He slides against me and I’m wet. Oh god he’s so big and so hard, just pressing like that against my warm, dewy folds that are open for him. Like my body, without me even meaning to, is inviting him inside.
We’re frozen in this insanely intimate embrace. Neither one of us moves.
Jake’s face above mine is hypnotizing. I’m spellbound by the way his hair falls to shadow the swarthy lines of his masculine features. His dark beauty is stunning me, blowing my mind.
I’m not afraid of him.
I should be.
Taming Jake Wolfe Page 4
