I lean over him, letting his hands pull at my hair and pinch my nipples, while I swing my pussy back and forth over the tip of his cock with all the expert slightness of someone getting into hot water.
I read every curve of his lips, and every squint of his eyes like signs, telling me just how much to give, and just how little to hold back, until I can almost hear his balls rumbling with the urge.
Then I slam myself onto his cock with all the sudden urgency of an out-of-control train and start really rocking him.
His hands drop away, clutching the sheets like he’ll crash back down to earth if he doesn’t. But that’s ok, the sheer thrill in his eyes as he watches me ride him is enough to make me hot. I’m a hair-flying, breast-bouncing, hip-squeezing, sex goddess; and I want Jax to feel the benefits of his star pupil.
Even though he’s gripping the bedsheets and slamming his head back into the pillow like he’s riding several rollercoasters at once, Jax’s hot eyes never once leave my body. I swirl my pussy over his cock with all the pent-up horniness of a recently-exiled nun, until Jax’s hands wrap themselves around my waist and beg me to stop.
For a finale, I slide off and downwards, whip off the condom, and squeeze my tits around his throbbing dick. The sight alone pushes him over the edge, and he shoots his loads over my chest, growling roughly like a tiger staking its territory.
Then he falls back onto the pillow and brings a hand to his forehead as if he just witnessed a miracle.
“Well,” he says, between pants, “that’s one way to wake up.”
A hot shower later, and I’m still feeling the blood pumping through my limbs. Jax’s shower really is amazing, but I’m too worried about finding my way back to the bedroom in Jax’s confusing wonderland of a home to fully enjoy it.
Luckily, Jax is standing right there in the corridor, coffee cup in hand, designer boxers on ample crotch.
“You’re… waiting for me outside the shower?”
“I’ll take any chance to look at you naked,” Jax grins, raising his coffee cup in salute and taking a sip.
“Well, considering I only have the dress I wore yesterday, I may remain naked a little longer.”
Jax’s smile shifts a few degrees. He steps aside, hands me a pair of his jeans and a t shirt, then winks.
“How very thoughtful,” I say, appreciatively taking the clothes.
“Nothing sexier than a girl wearing my clothes. Well, maybe a few things.”
“But I still only have heels.”
Jax nods to the floor, where there are a pair of lady’s flip-flop sandals.
“You have women’s shoes in the house?”
Jax shrugs, and for the first time he looks a little embarrassed, though he still pulls it off with boyish handsomeness.
“I… have found it useful to keep a pair or two on hand.”
“Right,” I say, letting it go with good humor.
When I get dressed, Jax is ready and waiting once again. He jingles his car keys.
“Let’s go get brunch. I’ll let you drive the Ferrari.”
“I can’t. I’m no good driving stick.”
Jax chuckles. “Oh, I think you drove stick very well already.”
Up for anything, I proceed to drive Jax’s car in possibly the slowest, clumsiest way a Ferrari has ever been driven. After the third stall, which seems to hurt Jax like a kick in the balls, I grit my teeth and really concentrate.
As I get the feel of its roaring engine and tight steering, I begin to notice the girls that seem to wave on almost every corner of Jax’s neighborhood. He does his best not to make it obvious, but I can see him nodding slightly and raising a polite hand that’s slung out the window.
“You seem pretty popular around here,” I say, after two girls with dogs blow him a kiss.
“What can I say? I’m a friendly neighbor,” Jax says. “You taking us any place in particular?”
“Oh yes. The best deli in LA. Prepare to have your mind blown, Mr. Architect,” I smile, proudly shifting down for a corner without a hitch. “For the second time this morning.”
By the time we get to the deli, I’m ready to eat the place out of business. As we exit the car, and start walking down the packed street, I have a realization.
“You know, this is the first time we’ve been out in the daytime, in public,” I say, feeling breezily comfortable in Jax’s sweet-smelling, loose clothes.
Jax swaggers along beside me for a while before turning his head towards me. “Does that mean this a ‘date,’ Miss Tipton? I’d hate to overstep the bounds of our professional relationship.” He smiles, and it’s obvious he’s flirting with me. And I like it.
I smile back and pull away a little, toying a few strands of hair behind my ear.
“Well, I guess if—”
“Hey, Jax!”
The voice comes from an Asian woman in a leather jacket and a bob haircut that makes her look almost fierce.
“I didn’t know you were back in town. Haven’t seen you at the bar in over a week,” she continues, pressing a slender, insinuating hand against his chest – fingers just over the low neckline of his shirt. The kind of detail only a woman would notice – and perform.
“I’ve been busy,” Jax says, turning his body sideways evasively.
The woman looks me up and down like she’s judging whether she wants to fuck me or Jax, before turning to him again. “I don’t believe you’ve got yourself a girlfriend, Jax. So this must be your sister or something.”
Jax laughs politely, takes one more step away, and shakes his head. “Right now, the only relationship I want is with a meatball sub. I’ll see you around.”
She lets her hand trail over his shoulder as he pulls away. “Well, give me a call. You’ve got my number – and I sure as hell kept yours.”
With a hand on my back urging me forward, I can tell Jax doesn’t want to speak about it, so I let it go. It can hardly come as a surprise that Jax has a reputation, but seeing just how far it reaches is starting to ring some alarm bells.
We take a seat outside the deli and settle in. When Jax removes his sunglasses, his eyes are already on me in that focused, hypnotizing way of his.
“It’s not really fair,” he says.
“What?” I ask.
“I take my time over what clothes I wear. The fit, the shape, the color. I’m a very picky guy. But there you are, wearing the crap out of them. And making them look even better than I do.”
I chuckle and look away in embarrassment. Then I notice a girl inside the deli, staring out at us – at Jax – like she recognizes him.
“What is it?” Jax says, noticing my expression drop. “Something wrong?”
“No. No. It’s nothing,” I say, reflexively. I look at the girl again, who’s now biting her lip and smiling slightly. When I look back at Jax he’s still got the ‘detective’ eyes, and I break down. “Well, I was just thinking about that—”
The words: “Oh. My. God.” interrupt me, along with a long shadow that casts itself on the table between us. It’s the waitress, a skinny blonde with breasts that are either fake, or fake, and a skirt so short there has to be a restaurant regulation that she’s ignoring.
Jax and the waitress stare at each other, and my eyes flick between them as if it’s a table-tennis match. Jax’s expression is, like my own, surprised, and expecting an explanation. The waitress’s expression is the same half-knowing sideways smile that the Asian woman had, the dog-walkers had, and that the girl inside the deli window has.
“Yes?” I say, in a tone that comes out a lot more frustrated and piercing than I would have hoped.
“Oh, sorry,” the waitress says, suddenly noticing me like I was the one who just turned up. She looks from me, to Jax, before nodding at him like she suddenly ‘gets’ something, and then hands us the menus. “Here are your menus, and I’ll be back to check on you soon,” she says, before scurrying away like a cockroach when the light’s turned on.
Jax flashes a smile at
me obliviously, and I shoot one back before hiding my face behind the thankfully-oversized menu.
If there were alarm bells ringing in my head earlier, now the whole fleet is running around on deck screaming ‘shut it down!’. Suddenly I feel like a sleepwalker who’s woken up on the edge of the Golden Gate Bridge – mid-step.
Don’t get me wrong here, I’m not ‘surprised’ that Jax has slept with a lot of women. It’s the entire reason I persuaded him to teach me in the first place. Neither am I surprised that those women remember him – and fondly, going by the way they seem about to tear his clothes off the second they see him.
What’s setting me off to code red is the fact that I’m feeling just a little bit too much envy and possessiveness right now. A little too comfortable. Sure, we’re having brunch together, and yes, I’m wearing his clothes – and sure, the things he said about me at the wedding were some of the sweetest things anyone has ever said about me.
But Jax is Jax, he’s the master of doing things that make girls swoon, cling, and remain attracted. I knew from the second I met him that if I let my guard down and started believing in the ‘routine,’ I’d be in deep trouble.
I’ve just spent eight years of my life letting myself be walked over because I got comfortable – I’m not about to do it all again.
Jax is not, will not, and cannot be the boyfriend type. Shut. It. Down.
“You ready to order?” Jax asks.
“Uh… Yeah.”
I play it cool through the meal. Matching Jax’s game of dry humor. He’s perceptive, and has read me like a book most of the time we’ve been together. This time, I don’t want to let on that there’s a war going on inside my head.
When we’re finished, and the still-staring blonde has taken the check, Jax suggests hanging out more, but I’m already standing up and on my way. I need a little time to myself, a little room to think. On top of that, the amount of random fucking, recovering from random fucking, and thinking about random fucking I’ve been doing the past few days has left me with plenty of errands to run.
That’s when it hits me: we only have two days left of our deal. Jax hasn’t even mentioned it—is it because he doesn’t care? Or has he forgotten? But no—of course he hasn’t forgotten. He only agreed to this arrangement because it was seven days, no strings. So it must be that it’s not on his mind—and why would it be? After this he can go back to his usual MO. Why would he want it to be any different?
I keep my composure as we say goodbye, and then I’m gone.
Just like that, I make the decision that I can’t be with Jax anymore. Screw our deal. I don’t need any more days with him. I’ve learned a lot, and I can’t afford to fall for this guy. And just like that, I meet somebody else.
After running home and spending a couple of hours pretending that I care about the stack of ‘urgent’ emails waiting for replies, and then tidying up my apartment, which feels twice as messy and small having spent the night in Jax’s, I check the fridge and realize I’m out of… well, everything. I’m long overdue a couple of nights comfort eating in my pajamas, and I don’t want to get caught without a pint of Ben & Jerry’s when I do, so I decide to make a trip to the grocery store.
I toss Jax’s clothes into the machine, put on a pair of yoga pants and a tank top, then make my way there – mentally listing the things I need so that my mind doesn’t slip back towards its default position of thinking about Jax.
As I toss both things that I shouldn’t buy, but that I know I’ll eat, and things I know I should buy, but that I won’t even consider eating, into my shopping cart, Jax texts.
There are no words, just a picture of his shredded, sweaty torso against the background of his personal gym.
I don’t want to, but I find myself staring at the perfection of Jax’s front like it’s the most delicious thing I’ve seen in the grocery store yet. I’m so compelled by it, that as I wheel my cart with one hand around the aisle, I jab the corner straight into the groin of a tall man on the other side.
“Oof!” he cries, crumpling over and hunching a pair of broad shoulders over his private parts.
“Shit! Oh my God! I’m so sorry,” I say, leaving my cart and putting a hand on his back.
He groans a little, stands up straight, and points a pair of deep blue eyes in my direction. As his eyes meet mine, his chiseled jawline sets itself into a warm, slightly goofy, but pretty damn sweet smile.
“That’s the best hit I’ve seen all afternoon,” he chuckles, and when I make a confused face he points at the badge on his workout clothes. “I coach a little league team.”
“Ah,” I say, as he adjusts his baseball hat and tries to hide a little wince. “Well, are you ok?”
“Yeah. I’ll be fine. I can always adopt.”
I laugh, and turn back to my cart.
“Hey,” he calls, as I’m about to continue down the cheese aisle. “Do I know you from somewhere?”
I look at him and try to remember if we’ve met.
“You’re a model, right?” he continues. “If you aren’t, then you definitely should be.”
For some reason, his innocent smile and gentle tone make me laugh shamefully. When I raise my head, tossing my hair back, I look him right in that sweet face and say: “Wow, you are really bad at that. That is maybe the worst line I’ve ever heard.”
He shrugs good-naturedly. “How would you do it?” he says, half-sincerely, half trying to just keep the conversation going.
I look him up and down, take in the good posture, handsome face, and easy manner.
“That baseball jacket is at least two sizes too big. You seem to have good muscles, you should show them off. And no lines, or at least, nothing that sounds like you don’t believe it. And lose the baseball cap – you’re not on the field now, and it makes you look like you’re hiding a bald patch or something.”
He takes his hat off and bows down on his knee like a king’s curtsey. “Nothing to hide, your honor.”
I laugh, and gesture him back up when I see someone looking at us.
“Are you an expert on this kind of thing, then?” he says.
“I’ve…picked up a few things,” I say, dismissively.
“Well, how much could you teach me in exchange for a coffee and a croissant? I know a great place just a couple of blocks from here.”
I roll a lock of hair behind my ear, musing over his offer.
“That’s… direct. Authoritative, without being douchey. Maybe you’ve got potential.” I’m amazed at how easily it’s all rolling off my tongue, until I realize: I sound like Jax. And then a second realization hits me: I’m good at this.
He cracks a wide smile and I notice how much his eyes sparkle over the stubble of his dimples.
“So is that a yes?”
“I don’t even know your name.” But I smile as I say it.
He offers his hand. “James.”
“Lizzie.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Lizzie.”
“Likewise.”
“So…?”
“It’s a ‘why not.’ Are the croissants pretty good?”
James’ grin gets even larger, revealing a set of very good teeth.
“They’re awesome. Shall we?”
As we make our way to the checkout, I get another message. It’s Jax again.
Tonight.
I glance at James, who looks back at me and makes a face. I snort a laugh, then turn back to my phone.
Same bar. Same time. I send back.
I guess I should tell Jax that the deal is over. And thank him for a job well done.
Chapter 15
Jax
In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a man who knows what he wants. And I wanted Lizzie from the moment I saw her. The problem is, I didn’t realize just how much.
For the first time in my life I’m walking down the street without checking out every girl. For once I’m not deleting a girl’s number out of my phone. For once I’m looking forward to actually tal
king to a girl.
When it comes to women, the only feelings I’ve had up until now have been the ones they could take a hold of and stick in their mouths. I’ve wanted just one thing from every hottie I’ve ever met – and once I got it, I was already thinking about the next.
So this; the fact that I can’t wait to see her again even though I saw her in the morning, even though I’ve spent most of the last week with her, even though we’ve fucked through the first few pages of the kama sutra; this is new to me.
Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t me going soft. I’m not about to start wearing bad clothes and exchange the Ferrari for an SUV. I’m still the same guy who knows what he wants, and knows exactly how to get it. It’s just that right now, what I want, only Lizzie can give me.
I’d call it dating, if that didn’t make it sound like something inexperienced high-schoolers do. I’d call it exclusive, but I’m not missing out on anything with Lizzie, she’s got everything a woman could give – inside and outside the bedroom. I’d call it serious, if Lizzie didn’t make me laugh like I’m a stoner at a comedy night. Instead, I’ll call it making her mine – ‘cause that’s exactly what every impulse inside my body is telling me I should do, and I always listen to what my body’s telling me.
Before I go to meet her at the bar, I drop by the site of the Denton development. It’s almost finished, and I roll up the driveway saluting the workers as they pass by on their way home for the night.
When I step out of the car, I make my way to the entrance to look for Luce – she’s always there to give the sign-off for the day. I’m halfway there when Jacqueline performs the greatest magic trick since David Copperfield by seeming to pop out of nowhere despite wearing a red spandex dress so tight it looks like she robbed a Barbie for it, and her cleavage looks like it’s grown by about a third since the last time I saw her.
“Jax! How wonderful to see you!” she says, as she wraps both arms around me and pulls me into her body so tightly I can feel her navel.
“Mrs. Denton, I hope you’re happy with how it’s turning out.”
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