by Ava Claire
“Jacob, I would really be more comfortable if--”
“That’s of no consequence to me,” he interrupted, silencing me with a stern glare. His hand went straight to my zipper. “I couldn’t take my eyes off of you during the meeting, wanting to bend you over my knee and at the same time, needing to take you in my arms and tell you how much I love you.” He unzipped my skirt and I shivered as it sunk to my ankles.
His eyes roamed over my lingerie and I didn’t miss the tick of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed hard. I’d picked well. Almost like I’d been hoping for this reconciliation.
There was something about seeing the effect I had on this devastatingly attractive man that emboldened me. I chewed on my bottom lip seductively, twirling a brown lock around my finger. “So, which is it? Am I getting spanked or are you going to kiss me?”
My brazen remark made his jaw tighten, but it wasn’t a look of disapproval coloring his golden features. It was conflict--like he wanted to do both. Ravage me and leave me breathless.
He ran his fingers through my hair, watching the curls stream between his fingers.
He leaned in, his breath swirling with mine and I was so lost in him that I closed my eyes, wanting to hold on to the moment forever. Just as I slipped my tongue into his mouth, he slipped his hand inside my underwear, cupping my sex.
My heart raced to my throat and fluttered back to my chest when I let out a groan of sheer bliss. Jacob was everything. Nothing else registered but him; the way our lips fit together, tongue dancing to the sensual twirl of his, savoring the taste of spearmint and power. And then there was his hand, making it crystal clear that what Jacob Whitmore wanted, he got. His fingers pulsed at my intimate slit, dancing just inside, making me grind my hips into him until I heard the sound of my wet lust filtering up like sensual music.
He pulled back, his lips diverting to my neck. “I’ve barely begun and you’re already wet to the bone. You want to come, don’t you? You’re so close.”
“Yes,” I hissed, my hair creating a wiry curtain over my face as I pushed my body forward, wanting to let go. To give into the release. His finger entered my slick tunnel easily, but when he added a second, then a third, I felt my body rushing to accommodate the girth. But with his mouth on me, feeling his cock thumping as he struggled to keep control while teetering on the edge, all because of me...there was no catching up. I found myself arching up to meet him and at the same time, feeling so weak, so incapable of doing anything but succumbing to my climax. How could I keep it together when I looked into his eyes, seeing a beautiful truth?
It was me. It had always been me.
“Jacob...” I groaned, assaulted by the sensations. I was losing my mind. “I want to hold on...but I...I...”
He stopped, his finger retreating as his crystal eyes glittered mischievously. “You’re almost there.”
I was still recovering, thighs rattling from the aftershocks of his touch, but I turned toward one of the cafe tables and bent at the waist until my chest was pressed against the tabletop and my ass was in the air.
A long pause followed my submissive gesture and before, I might have made that trust irrelevant by looking back and seeing what he was doing. Unbuckling his pants? Pulling out some studded paddle to wail on me?
But I maintained my position, knowing that when he was ready, he’d continue. And when I least expected it, he would give me the spanking that both excited and worried me.
The air around me hummed, gooseflesh racing up and down the back of my thighs as he moved closer. I tensed, sensing his hand hovering above my bottom. But when he made contact it wasn’t the crack of my first lash. He was rubbing my buttocks, massaging it slowly, making me tingle between my thighs.
“You know why I’m doing this?” He paused, adding, “Beside my obvious predisposition toward domination.”
“Because I didn’t answer your calls,” I squeaked, feeling pangs of guilt undercut my arousal.
“It’s a little deeper than you dodging me,” he said, hooking my panties and slowly pulling them down. He didn’t finish until they were at my knees. “I’m not punishing you.”
I couldn’t help but snicker at that. I was bent over with my lily white behind in the air. If this wasn’t punishment, he could have fooled me. Still, I was glad that he didn’t catch the sound.
“If I wanted to punish you, I would have ended my day early and took you home. Strapped you to the cross. But right now, all I want is for you to feel and know that you are mine. This isn’t some infatuation for me. It’s not something I can just switch off. I wouldn’t recover if I lost you--and honestly, I wouldn’t want to.”
The first last landed before I could promise him it wouldn’t happen again. The sting spread over me, magnifying when the second settled on the side of the first. The third made me cry out and I clamped my mouth shut. The fourth made me close my eyes and wish that I had a time machine so I could knock some sense into myself. By the time the seventh happened my rear was on fire, my tender flesh nearly to the point of no return and I was so close to using the color that would end the pain. But when the eighth didn’t come and there was time to feel something other than the sharp edge of my bottom incisors as I ground my teeth and my body pulled to breaking point, I realized that I was wetter than before, my juices coating my inner thigh. If he asked me my color five seconds ago, I was pretty sure I would have said red. But now that my pulse echoed over my heated flesh, want dulling the sting of the blow and my nipples pierced the tabletop, I wasn’t so sure I wanted him to stop at all.
His voice was ragged when he spoke. “I need to be inside you.” It was a statement. The sound of his zipper followed and I didn’t have time to brace myself as he thrust inside me. My body clasped him and he gripped my hips, driving his length deeper. Every throbbing inch of him was stuffed into me, forcing me to open up and give him more. And I gave him all, everything and it still wasn’t enough. How was I supposed to stay quiet when my mouth wanted to shatter along with the rest of me? My muscles howled as they stretched and constricted, as he rowed in and out. My heart matched the volume of the table, making an unhealthy squeal beneath me.
The hands on my hips drew up and he cupped my ass, fingers pressing into the tender stripes from my spanking and I let out a mewl that was supposed to be a no, but with him powering into me at a whole new angle, it came out as a guttural yes.
“Yes what?” he said huskily. “Tell me what you want.”
“You.”
He pulled out and I scrambled to cover my misstep. “I just meant that--eep!” It was far from my sexiest sound, but Jacob pulled me up, spun me around, and pushed me back onto the table, his eyes wild and carnal.
He grabbed my legs and pulled me closer, until I was sure I was going to topple to the floor. But he held me steady long enough for me to melt as he pushed back inside. The intensity was different because we were eye to eye.
HIs eyes had never been so blue, his dark hair the color of a starless night and the need flickering across his face burned brighter than any flame I’d ever seen. I wanted to send his buttons flying, to see the planes of his abs as I gorged on the feel of him diving in and out, but he came forward, taking hold of my wrists as he impaled me.
And I saw it, his climax rippling across his face as his lips twitched and his pace intensified and he let go of my wrists and claimed my lips, repeating ‘come’ over and over as he kissed me so deep he touched my very soul.
We came together, our muffled cries swallowed as our bodies shook and trembled. I was spent but I wanted more.
I wanted forever.
I felt invigorated and he had to give me a playful pinch on the thigh so I could unwrap my legs from his waist. Everything was better when we were lost in each other, just me and Jacob. As we unbuttoned, zipped, and made ourselves presentable, the reality of what led to our tryst came rushing back.
“What are your suggestions for handling Rachel?”
I frowned, not ready to hear her nam
e just yet and not sure I’d ever be willing to handle anything in the Rachel department ever again. “Handling Rachel--you’re asking me?”
“Yes.” Before I could ask why, he continued. “My actions directly affect you. I have no doubt she would attempt legal action if I tried to end our contract a second time, but that’s a headache for the legal team. You’re my concern.”
“Your headache?” I quipped with a smile.
“A beautiful headache,” he joked, his mouth curving into his own as he fixed his tie. “If you don’t want to have any more contact with her, you’ll get no complaints from me.”
I repinned my bun slowly, thinking it over. To be honest, a Rachel-free life didn’t seem half bad. But she wasn’t around before and look what she’d accomplished with Jacob’s mother. I really didn’t want to find out what hell she’d unleash if she was removed from the client list.
****
When we stepped into Lucy's Taqueria, Jacob's eyes just about popped from his skull. He took in the festive atmosphere before looking at me like I'd lost my mind.
"You said one of my favorite restaurants in the city," I said with a wink. "And I asked if casual was okay."
"Sure, but I had no idea that this was what you meant," he said, eyeing the room skeptically.
"It's got character!"
"Not the word I'd use."
The hostess spun to face us and when she saw Jacob, her whole demeanor changed from her usual clipped, ‘I’ve got much better things to do’ attitude. “How may I help you?”
So apparently she was capable of acknowledging a person’s existence--if that person was male, gorgeous, and significantly overdressed for the cantina fare Lucy’s served.
I ignored the slight and scanned the room until I saw Megan. “Our friend already got us a table.” I breezed past the pouting woman, Jacob at my side and completely oblivious to the fact that he was drawing every female eye in the place.
“Friend?” Jacob repeated, his deep voice edged with wariness. “You didn’t tell me someone would be joining us.”
“She’s very important to me, Jacob--and this meeting is long overdue.”
Whispers hissed around us as the diners realized Jacob wasn’t just a sexy guy in a suit and tie. Megan looked up from the menu, her olive eyes registering us before she gave a wave. Cameras were already flashing by the time I made it to the table and leaned in to hug her before beginning the introductions.
“Megan, this is Jacob.”
She held out her hand, regarding him slowly before quirking her lips into a smile. “I was starting think I wouldn’t meet you until you two walked down the aisle.”
Jacob gave her a hand a hearty shake and from the smile teasing his lips, I could already tell he liked her. “And what if we decided to elope?”
She didn’t blink. “I would have met you when I boarded your fancy jet on the way to some exotic locale. Leila and I have been planning our fictional weddings since freshman year and while our themes and grooms have changed, we’re always standing by each other’s side.”
Jacob glanced at me, his eyes warm. “Leila’s lucky to have you.”
“I am,” I said, still blushing furiously at the shout-out to PJ clad nights with some Lifetime movie on in the background and a pint of Ben and Jerry’s between us as we talked about how lavish our dream weddings would be. “So we should probably order drinks--”
“I’d love to hear more about Leila’s dream wedding,” Jacob interjected. “For research purposes.”
I tried to send Megan a silent plea, but she ignored it, tilting her head and drumming her fingertips on her chin, lost in thought. “She had a couple of mainstays--married at the beach and married in the country.”
Jacob’ hand found my thigh beneath the table and he stroked the inner seam, making me tingle around his touch. “Beach, huh?” The way his voice strummed the words, I could almost imagine myself on some private oasis, sand beneath my feet as the sea breeze whipped my dress around me. The sultry heat would glisten on my warm skin as I made my way to him, standing beneath the stars. But that was the only appealing part of my hypothetical ceremony. The rest was the teeth-rottingly sweet musings of a girl who watched way too many romantic movies.
“Tiki torches,” Megan continued, recounting my beach fantasy. “A crapton of them, lining the aisle. And the rose petals would decorate the runner and flutter across her massive train--”
“A train?” Jacob said with a look of surprise. “I wouldn’t have guessed Leila was a train kind of bride.”
“That’s because I’m not!” I said, my cheeks red-hot with embarrassment.
“News to me,” Megan said playfully, not letting up. “I seemed to remember that was on your must list. Along with a peony tiara and a full veil made of French silk tulle. And no ‘Here comes The Bride’ for Lay,” she added, shaking her head firmly. “She wants a ukulele to pluck out Etta James.”
I’ve never been so happy to see a waiter in all my life. We ordered a round of drinks and a sampler appetizer, giving me a small reprieve from the walk down Memory Lane.
“So how’s school been so far this week?” I asked as soon as the waiter turned on his heel and headed to put in our order.
Megan threw me a bone, smiling briefly before she followed the detour of the conversation. “School’s great. I got to dust off my Schoolhouse Rock videos and the kids love them.”
Jacob opened his mouth just as lights from the cameras erupted around us. Even though he’d been smiling and joking with Megan, I could tell he was getting agitated. The restaurants he was accustomed to valued their customer’s privacy and had policies in place to keep the paparazzi and would-be photographers at bay. When the chatter hit a fever pitch, the camera flashes like strobe lights, he whipped his head to the left.
“You gotta be shitting me.”
Me and Megan turned too, surprised by his outburst. While there were some patrons looking in our direction, most of the cameras were trained on the entrance. Rachel was standing at the front, posing for a picture with the hostess. When the camera flashed, she scanned the room, stopping when she saw us, painting on a big smile and waving.
She absolutely, positively wouldn’t. She couldn’t.
“Please tell me that isn’t who I think it is,” Megan said slowly.
I couldn't even respond. Not that I needed to. We all knew exactly who it was and why she was gracing us with her presence.
She walked through the restaurant, her fire engine red dress dancing like flames around her. She smiled and waved like she was on a parade float. Center of attention. All eyes on the Queen.
When she stepped up to our table, bright eyed and bushy tailed, Jacob didn’t bother with niceties.
“You need to leave, Rachel.”
Her glittering facade didn’t even dim. “Leave? But I just got here.”
Completely ignoring the awkward silence, our waiter hustled over, bringing Rachel a chair with cartoon hearts in his eyes. “If you need anything, anything at all...”
“Gracias,” she drawled, giving him a wink that almost made him faint on the spot.
Rachel picked up a menu from the middle of the table, gingerly tipping it open. “I hope it’s okay that I joined you--”
“I think you know damn well it’s not okay,” Jacob seethed. “Walk away, Rachel.”
She flipped her hair, giving him a lusty look that made me want to punch her in the face. “Jakey, we probably shouldn’t air our dirty laundry right now. Not with all these people around to recount every detail to god knows who.”
I hated to admit it, but she was right. As much as I wanted to drag her out by her hair, it wouldn’t do Whitmore and Creighton any favors.
I found his eyes and mouthed ‘we can do this’. He didn’t seem a hundred percent sure of that, but he did relax slightly. But seeing Rachel sitting there, all but whistling with glee that she’d ruined our dinner, I had to draw a breath and take my own advice.
Megan and I made eye
contact and I opened my mouth to say something but decided against it, not wanting another argument. I was so damn tired of expending energy in the Rachel Laraby department.
Megan had no problem picking up the slack.
“Just who do you think you are?” she said, twisting her mouth in disgust.
“I’m Rachel,” she answered simply. She closed the menu and peered at my friend. “I don’t think we’ve met.” She leaned out and fingered two strands of Megan’s hair. “Your hair is gorgeous.”
Megan wasn’t wooed, sweeping her hair to the other shoulder and out of Rachel’s grasp. “I think I speak for everyone when I say we don’t want you here. Why don’t you stop embarrassing yourself and go away?”
“Embarrassing myself?” Rachel snorted.
“That’s right. You and Jacob were together. Now you’re not. Get over it.”
“Straight to the point.” Her smile widened like she was impressed. “Like our Leila here, with a bit more bite.” She tilted her chin in Jacob’s direction. “New assistant? I know Jacob Whitmore couldn’t possibly marry his secretary. Or is Leila trying to spice things up?” She gave him a conspiratorial smile. “Between me and you, I always got a very...colorful vibe from her. Caught her checking me out more than once.” She let out an airy chuckle. “But honestly, look at me. Who wouldn’t?”
Megan fell back against the booth, her eyebrows arched in disbelief. “I thought Leila was exaggerating, but you are one crazy bitch.”
I could see the table a few feet away was staring and a couple of the diners mouthed the word ‘bitch’. I needed to keep this under control or we’d all end up in the gossip column.
I cleared my throat. “She’s my best friend, Rachel. Megan.”
Megan shot me a venomous look and I tried to send one right back that said, ‘not here’.”
“Aww best friends,” Rachel cooed, looking back and forth at us like we were six years old. “That is so adorable.”
“What are you doing here?” Jacob bit off impatiently.
