Twenty-Four Hours (Shattered Boundaries Book 1)

by Anthony, Carolyn

  Jake grinned as she made small talk and struggled to get the words out. He turned away from her to order and began moving his fingers again, steadily teasing.

  * * *

  Eve’s head spun and she didn’t even register what Jake ordered. She’d missed his touch so much, her brain malfunctioned. And poor Shelly. She knew. She had to. Eve wanted to die. But she also didn’t want Jake to stop touching her, to be honest—waitress or no waitress.

  There was always a leashed aggression to Jake’s touch that she craved. His fingers never stopped while he ordered and chatted up Shelly as if they were long lost friends. If he moved an inch farther up her leg, there’d be no question about how turned on she was. This man was her undoing, just his voice, the simplest touch brought on a physical response. No other man in her life had ever mentally or physically affected her the way he did.

  Finally, Shelly left with their order.

  Jake threw her that cocky grin. “You okay?”

  While she loved that grin, it also drove her insane and made her wet as hell. “What are you doing!” Did she moan that? It wasn’t intended as a moan.

  “I’ll tell you what I’m doing, baby.” He moved in close, the strong oaky scent of whisky on his lips drew her in like an embrace. “You’re gonna sit there, looking beautiful. You’re gonna answer my questions and enjoy your dinner. You’re gonna keep your eyes only on me and you’re gonna come when I tell you to.”

  When Eve started, the hand on her thigh tightened. “Nope. Stay there.”

  “You can’t, Jake! Not here. I—you can’t do that here.”

  “Shhh, just talk to me.” A small frown crept across his mouth the second his fingers slid over the lace of her panties. “Did you really wear those?”

  She focused on his lips. She loved his mouth. Loved what he did to her body with his mouth. When he touched her like he was doing now, when he spoke to her this way, her brain shut down. His presence, her love for him, negated every good intention. Right and wrong became obsolete. “I can’t go out in public without underwear,” she whispered, fighting to keep her eyes open despite the singeing heat of his hand so close to her pussy. She just wanted to let her head fall back on the seat and record his touch to memory. Time had become her greatest enemy.

  Jake’s grip tightened. “I know that look, Eve. Stay with me. I’m right here, hon.”

  Eve felt him watching her. “I’m here.”

  Sharp brown eyes studied her, before he nodded. “Now. The underwear...take ‘em off.”

  She tried to stop her mouth from dropping open. “I’m sorry?”

  “You heard me. Take. Them. Off.” His fingers moved under the lacy side and he pulled it away from her body and down her hip.

  Eve moved her hand on top of his. “Stop! Jake stop,” she breathed out and gripped his hand under the table.

  “Put your hands back on the table. Lift up a little. I’ll do the work.”

  “I can’t!”

  He just stared at her, sliding his hand under the front of her panties and trailing a finger over her clit to rest at her entrance.

  His warm lips caressed her ear. “Really? Because it feels like you can.”

  Eve’s eyelids dropped for a second and she wanted the world to disappear.

  “Please.”

  “Please, what? Please stop?”

  Her breath caught as he caressed the crease between her thighs with such a skilled touch, she couldn’t help but fidget in her seat. She squeezed her legs together tight, trying not to move with him.

  Jake groaned. “You’re so wet, baby. Open for me.” He gripped the top of her thigh and squeezed hard. “I said...open.”

  Taking a deep breath, Eve slowly released the tension in her legs allowing them to part enough, so he could move his hand.

  “Good girl. Keep your back against the booth and lift your hips. Slowly. Move too fast, you’ll be obvious. Nice and slow.”

  This was all kinds of wrong. Eve realized she shouldn’t allow this, but something hypnotic about the demand in his tone overwhelmed her. He knew her. He could read what she needed and demanded she give into it—to that dark thing deep inside her. The darkness she kept to herself and desperately yearned to let out, to have it be understood by at least one person—and that person was Jake. She subtly lifted her hips off the seat.

  He smoothly slid her panties down to just below her knees.

  “Reach down, take them off, and hand them to me.” His eyes never left hers.

  She laughed nervously. “I’m not taking them all the way off. Come on.”

  “Off.” His expression never changed.

  “You’re enjoying this!”

  “You have no idea.” He chuckled, then sobered. “I told you not to wear anything under that dress. This is on you.”

  Eve studied his handsome face. “You’re serious?”

  “Oh, yeah. I want ‘em gone.”

  A surge of wetness coated her thighs at the confidence in his voice, in his touch. Leisurely, she reached beneath the table, peeking up at the room before maneuvering the lacy material down her calves and finally off one foot, then the other. She straightened and handed them to him under the table. “I cannot believe I’m doing this,” she murmured and sat up straighter, trying to maintain a collected facade.

  “Sure you can,” he responded as he put her panties in his pocket. “Next time I tell you not to wear anything, you’ll listen.”

  Eve’s entire body tensed when she spotted Shelly approaching with their appetizers

  “You’re good, baby. Smile at your new friend, Shelly,” Jake teased before the waitress got to the table.

  “You chose well, these are the house special. Beef pot stickers,” Shelly said as she placed two plates in front of them and the platter between them. “Enjoy.”

  When she walked away, Jake turned to Eve. “I plan on it. Open your legs.”

  “No” just wasn’t an option any longer. Her traitorous body was already shaking with need. Jake made her want to surrender everything to him, please him. She let her legs fall open.

  “What do you crave that you don’t tell me about?” he asked as his fingers slid along the sides of her smoothly shaved lips.

  Eve’s breath hitched and she fought not to push her hips against him.

  “Mmm. You shaved for me,” Jake rumbled.

  “I always shave.”

  “I love the feel of your lips. How smooth they are, how swollen you get, the taste of you.” He crowded her.

  “Aren’t you hungry?” she asked him, nodding to the appetizer and trying to change the subject. They were in public! He would talk to her this way in private, yeah, but here? Yet, it made her want him that much more. Excitement rippled through her having him touch her and trying to pretend as if they were just having an intimate conversation. Eve inhaled deep and let it out. “Babe, the food?”

  “What I want is under the table, not on it.”

  When he removed his hand, she instantly felt bereft of his warmth.

  Jake brought his fingers up to his mouth, casually ran them over his bottom lip, coating it with her arousal, before sucking that lip into his mouth.

  Eve’s stomach dropped out. He was the most erotic man she’d ever encountered. His every movement…pure seduction.

  Grabbing one of the warm towels the waitress had left on their table, Jake wiped his hands and dried them. He cut one of the pot stickers and fed it to her before taking the other half himself.

  “Darkest fantasy. Go.”

  Oh! Like she’s supposed to talk now? He worked her up, left her needy and expected her to hold a conversation? Asshole!

  He glanced at her and laughed. “Yeah, goin’ off the look on your face right now, you don’t want to get bold, sweetheart. I’ll make you scream in this nice restaurant.”

  The s
cary thing about that threat...he could. Easily. And he knew it.

  “I think that’s a little too intense for a dinner conversation.” Eve stabbed at another pot sticker in frustration.

  “You tell me everything.” He took the other half of the appetizer from her plate.

  “I know and I shouldn’t.”

  “But you do, so tell me.”

  Jake created this intimate space between them where nothing was off limits. Nothing ever seemed dirty or shameful. She really could tell him anything with the confidence that he would never judge her for it. He made it safe for her to be the real her, to let her guard down. The Eve she hid from every other person in her life. The Eve who should have been Jake’s a couple decades ago.

  “I’d say the things I’ve done with you qualify as fantasy. I’ve experienced things with you I never have before, things I never thought I’d do.”

  “You’re skating. I already know that. Answer the question.”

  Eve watched him chew. His mouth was so beautiful, the way his goatee framed his chin accentuating his perfect lips. She just wanted to kiss him. No more talking, just kissing.

  “Eve Isabella. Focus.” He chuckled and ran a knuckle down her cheek.

  She cringed at the use of her middle name.

  “You sound like my mom. I’m not sure how to answer.”

  How could she tell him without freaking him out? No, he’d never made her feel insecure or ashamed before. He knew the worst thing, the most personal thing, about her. Almost. She’d told him the beginning. The other part, the last part, she had never told another soul—only her parents knew. Her greatest regret, her shame, was the pain she’d caused them, the worry she’d given them. But the part she had shared with Jake about that time in her life, he hadn’t criticized. Hadn’t thought her crazy. Still, how did she explain this. Her darkest fantasy? Um, no. Too big a risk for her.

  “Okay. So, what’s your why?” Jake interrupted her inner critic. “Why sexual psychology with an emphasis on marginalized communities? Does any of that turn you on?”

  His questions gave her something to focus on, besides how hot he was. That worked for her. She could talk about her studies all day.

  “My why? Besides wanting to help people feel complete and comfortable in their own skin? I guess it depends on your definition of marginalized. Do you mean BDSM? Dominance and submission? Sadomasochism? I can go on, but those communities are under a microscope lately, so I’ll start there. I know a little about a lot I guess. I’ve had to do extensive research to write my dissertation obviously, but my area of expertise lies more in the psychology and dynamic of a power exchange.”

  “You didn’t answer the question,” he reminded her. “And you’re rambling, hon.”

  “It was three questions. That was my why. As for my emphasis and does it turn me on... Um, let’s take an example, people hear power exchange, they immediately think Dominant and submissive couples or BDSM. Yes, there are aspects of both lifestyles I’m attracted to specifically because of the exchange of power between two people. I’ve never been involved in a Dominant/submissive relationship or been exposed to BDSM, so I can’t say for sure if it turns me on. I study it through a specific academic lens. Personally, what I know about the D/s lifestyle...I find liberating, beautiful even. Again, the power exchange. It angers me that the uneducated stereotype a community as deviant for what makes them feel complete as human beings. Different people need or want different things sexually, and they shouldn’t be judged for it. It’s nobody’s business but theirs. So, to answer your question, I am attracted to the psychology behind it. If I was pushed to give an answer, due to the trust you put in another person’s hands, it’s not a lifestyle for me.”

  “But how do you know?” His eyes stayed locked to hers.

  “I don’t.” She stabbed the little dumpling with her fork. “I have trust issues, so I don’t know if it would turn me on.”

  With a finger under her chin, he rotated her face back to him. “You don’t. If you haven’t experienced it. You don’t know.”

  Eve paused for a second, staring into his hypnotic brown eyes. If it were him, if it were Jake, she might feel different about exploring some of the areas she studied and wrote about in her dissertation.

  “Fair enough,” she conceded. “Which is why I can’t answer your question.”

  “Humor me. Ignore the trust issues for now.” He cut the last of the pot stickers, putting one on her plate. “Eat, baby.”

  She thought about how to answer while she chewed, especially since the vast majority of said trust issues were because of him.

  “For me personally...the idea of consent and restraint are attractive.”

  “Being tied down?” he asked, his expression unreadable.

  Her stomach fluttered at the question. Too late now.

  She’d opened Pandora’s box.

  “It’s bigger than any one act, but I think there’s something...freeing about restraint specifically, yes.” She peeked back down at her plate, feeling too vulnerable and a little sad they were even having this conversation.

  “Don’t hide, baby, tell me. There’s nothing wrong with what you said. Talk to me.”

  “I know there’s nothing wrong with it.” She took a deep breath before meeting his gaze and continuing. “I find something about the trust involved in submission…a priceless sort of gift to give. One could argue that you have to trust someone with your life to allow them to push your boundaries physically and mentally, depending on how deep they run. A person confident and caring enough to accept the responsibility of control a submissive willingly gives to them, and to genuinely appreciate the trust required to do so, is a unique and strong individual. How do you not respect that type of relationship?”

  “So, you’re attracted to the idea of a Dominant.”

  Eve turned toward him. “The dynamic between a Dominant and a submissive, yes. It’s the consent I’m drawn to—giving up control. Knowing another person cares about you and loves you inside and out, knows your boundaries and can push them without breaking that trust is rare. But it’s dangerous too. There are predators out there who are not true Dominants. That said, there’s a beauty in giving that level of trust to another individual. People should embrace who they really are without fear of judgment and persecution. I went into the psychology of sexuality to help others. If there’s a chance I can do that, I will.”

  “But is that something you want for yourself?” he asked. “Think about it. I’ll be back.” He got up and walked towards the restrooms.

  How to answer that question? If it were anyone she’d trust that much, it would be Jake. But she couldn’t have him. She, therefore, could never give that much of herself to him and watch him leave and—he always left. The pain of him having to leave was inconceivable now. If she gave him that much, his absence would spiral her back to the bad place. The place she needed to remind herself to forget every minute of every day, except when she was with him.

  She shook her head. No. She’d already gone way beyond her personal limits with Jake—allowed him to take her to intimate places she would never go with another man. But she wouldn’t go there. She wouldn’t give him that.

  Eve watched him walk across the dining room back to the table, thinking how unbelievably handsome and sexy he looked. An unconscious intensity clung to him. It demanded people’s attention. She’d noticed it the first moment she’d met him. When she’d been too young to realize the power such a trait could hold, and devastation it could potentially cause.

  “I see you’ve been thinking too much,” Jake noted as he approached the table. He sat down and kissed her cheek. He rested his hand back on her thigh. “Just tell me. Don’t think. Is this something you want to experience?”

  “Do I want to be able to trust a man that much? Yes. But I know I’ll never trust anyone enough to give up control, which is
why a D/s relationship isn’t personally for me.”

  His warm fingers moved back up her thigh, ran between her legs, down the sides of her wet lips.

  “You’d trust me enough.” His breath was warm against her cheek.

  Eve inhaled deeply, trying to focus. Unable to keep the tears back she lifted a hand to his cheek.

  “If I was yours, yes. You’d be the only man I’d trust.”

  “I know, baby. I wish I could be that man for you.”

  She unconsciously pushed into the fingers between her legs.

  “But you can’t be—so it won’t be anyone else.” Damn him. He completely undid her.

  Jake moved closer to her, sliding her drink in front of her. “Both hands on the glass, hon. Lean back. Have you spoken with your New York advisor?”

  She bit back a moan and fought to keep her frame still. “I can’t think when you’re touching me like this.”

  New York? Was he serious right now? It was a constant emotional and physical pendulum for her with Jake. He pushed, pulled, demanded, expected and then changed up, throwing her in a completely different direction.

  “Do you like it when I touch you like this?” His lips grazed the slope of her ear.

  Fuck it. Right now, she couldn’t see or think beyond his fingers between her legs. She’d hate herself tomorrow. Pushing back into the cushion behind her, she closed her eyes and tried desperately not to lift her hips for him.

  “You know I do,” she breathed the words out.

  His fingers moved up and down along the sides of her clit, massaging her swelling lips.

  What was she thinking allowing this?

  But it’d been so long. He’d been gone so damn long.

  “Stop thinking. Just feel.” He kept his fingers moving as he reached with his other hand to take a drink of his whisky.

  Her breathing staggered. She bit her lower lip, trying like hell not to move with him or close her eyes. In the times they’d been together, he’d conditioned her body to his touch. She wished they were back at the hotel room, skin on skin. Nothing between them.

  When she at last found the will to actually take a sip of her margarita, play it off a little bit, he slid a finger deep inside her saturated entrance.