Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
Asia
It didn’t come.
Jack walked the room, checked the bathroom and closets, looked under the bed, out of the windows.
Then he stood still.
Silent.
Terrifying.
“Jack—”
He gave a single shake of his head.
I said nothing, stood there waiting for Jack to unleash everything he’d held back all day—the rage at Hayes, the jealousy over Christopher, the fury of being trapped.
I’d seen it building.
Felt it in the way his hand tightened around my wrist. In the deadly quiet of his voice when he told me “not now.”
I braced for it.
Wanted it, even.
Because at least then I could lose myself in the violence of it. Could let him take what he needed and not have to think about what I was giving.
But Jack just stood there.
Watching me.
“You should shower,” he said finally, his voice flat. “Get that filth off you.”
I looked down.
He was right. My shirt was splattered with dust and blood from the zombies Hayes killed.
“Jack—”
“Go ahead.”
He turned his back to me and looked out the windows.
I was dismissed.
I welcomed the shock of the ice-cold water, but finished quickly.
My hands were shaking.
I found a T-shirt from a local nature preserve and put it on. It was tight, but it would have to do.
When I emerged from the bathroom, Jack was exactly where I’d left him.
Dressed.
Watching.
Still.
This was wrong.
Jack didn’t wait. Jack didn’t hold back.
Something in his stillness made my skin prickle.
“Better?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
He stood and walked toward me slowly.
Too slowly.
My pulse kicked up.
He stopped inches away, lifting his hand to my face.
I waited for the grab.
The roughness.
The claim.
Instead, his fingers traced my cheekbone, featherlight.
“You’re cold,” he murmured.
“The water was—”
“Come here.”
He entwined his fingers with mine and guided me to the bed, then knelt in front of me.
What the actual fuck?
After the day I had, I was already confused.
Jack didn’t make it any better.
“What are you—”
“Shh.” He grabbed my foot and massaged it before moving up to my calves, his hands warm and strong and soothing.
I sighed despite myself, the tension I held melting away without regard for my best efforts.
Because I could handle rough.
Angry I could match.
But this?
This was torture.
“You’re mad,” I said, hating how my voice shook.
“I am.”
“At me.”
His hands stilled, then he looked at me. “Yes. And at the situation. At Hayes. At that fucking boy who thinks he can look at you like—”
He started massaging again.
“If you’re mad, why aren’t you—”
“Not what? Throwing you on the bed and making you scream until you’re hoarse?” He leaned forward, placing the softest open-mouth kiss on my knee. “Why am I not making you choke on my cock? Only giving you enough air to say you’re mine?”
Yes.
Exactly that.
I nodded.
“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” he continued, his voice soft. Deadly. “You want me to lose control. Make it easy for you.”
His hands slid up my calves. Slow. Torturous.
“But I’m not going to.”
“Jack—”
“Tonight, you’re going to have to ask for it.” He traced the back of my knee. “Every touch. Every kiss. Everything you want from me, you’re going to have to ask for.”
Oh God.
“That’s not—”
“Fair?”
His smile was cruel. “You’re right. It’s not.”
His hands moved higher, smoothing my wide hips, stroking my belly, his touch slow. So fucking slow.
“But you know what else isn’t fair?” He traced patterns on my inner thigh with his thumb. “Watching you let Christopher stand that close. Watching you smile at him like he didn’t almost get you killed.”
“I wasn’t—”
“I know you’ll say you were just playing nice. Just trying to smooth things over.” His fingers stilled. “That’s what you do, isn’t it? Smooth things over. Manage things. Manage people.”
“Jack, I—”
“You can’t manage me, Asia,” he whispered.
“I’m not—”
“You are. And you might be right.”
He went silent, staring at me as his thumbs traced my slit, driving me to distraction.
“Jack, please—”
“Please what?” His eyes locked on mine.
Bastard.
He knew exactly what he was doing.
Making me say it.
Own it.
Making me admit how much I needed him.
“Touch me,” I whispered.
He smiled. “I am touching you.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Can’t read minds, Counselor.”
My hands fisted in the cheap bedspread and I huffed out. But I still said, “Touch me. Between my legs.”
“Where between your legs?” His fingers traced higher. So close. “Here?” He touched the inside of my thigh.
“Higher.”
“Where, here?” he asked, his fingers hovering over the delicate skin at the crease of my thigh.
I squirmed, my pussy clenching around nothing.
Fuck.
“My pussy. Touch my pussy,” I finally said.
His smile was sharp.
Satisfied.
“Good girl.”
Then his fingers were there, spreading the wetness that dripped from me freely.
“So ready,” he murmured. “You were waiting for this? Thinking about how fucking me would make you forget? Hoping I would make it easy for you?”
I couldn’t answer. Could barely breathe.
My nipples pulled tight and my hips rocked of their own volition.
He circled my clit. Once. Twice.
Then pulled away.
“Jack!” My protest came out strangled.
“Tell me what you were thinking about Christopher.”
What?
“Tell me,” he repeated, his fingers resting maddeningly close but not touching. “When he brought up Kathleen’s funeral. What did you feel?”
“I felt…sad. And guilty that I wasn’t there.”
“And when he offered to ‘be there for you’?”
“Nothing. I felt nothing for him.”
“But you felt something for me.” Not a question. “When I grabbed your wrist in front of him. What did you feel then?”
I closed my eyes.
“Look at me. And answer.”
I forced my eyes open. Met his gaze.
“I felt…like yours.”
“And did you like it?”
God help me.
“Yes.”
His fingers slid inside me. Two of them. Deep.
The relief was instant. Overwhelming.
“Yes, what?” he demanded, his thumb finding my clit.
“Yes, I liked it. I liked you claiming me in front of him.”
“Why?”
His fingers curled, finding that spot that made my chest clench.
I murmured.
Jack stopped moving.
Cruel.
He was so fucking cruel.
“Because it’s true,” I whispered.
He still didn’t move. “What’s true?”
“I’m yours,” I said.
He moved again, pumping his fingers fast, circling my clit with devastating precision.
When he pulled his fingers out, I nearly sobbed.
Then he lifted me, laying me back on the bed, pushing my thighs apart.
“Now,” he said, settling between my legs, “I’m going to make you come. Slowly. And you’re going to look at me the whole time. Understand?”
I nodded.
“Words, Asia.”
“I understand.”
His tongue flicked out, tasting my pussy.
I gasped.
“Eyes on me,” he warned.
I forced myself to watch as he licked me.
Long, slow strokes from my clit to my ass and back again.
He let the pressure build, and build without giving me release.
I bucked my hips, reaching for him.
He pinned me down with his forearm.
“No rushing. We have all night.”
Torture.
This was actual torture.
He took his time. Explored every inch of me with his lips, his teeth.
Pushed his tongue inside, catching my juices before they could spill.
Brought me to the edge again and again, then backed off.
“Jack, please—”
“What do you need?”
“More. Harder. Please.”
“Not yet.”
Another long, slow lick.
I whimpered.
“You know what I love about this?” he murmured against me. “You can’t hide. Can’t pretend you don’t need this. Don’t need me.”
His tongue circled my clit. Barely touching.
“I could make you beg.”
“I am begging.”
“You could beg better.”
“Fuck you, Jack.”
He chuckled, his breath tickling my clit.
But it was true. Fuck him for being right.
He dove back in, teasing me but never pushing me over.
My pussy and thighs were slick with my wetness.
“Please, Jack. Please make me come. I need it. I need you.”
He lifted his head, his eyes meeting mine.
Something shifted in his expression.
Satisfaction.
Victory.
Then his mouth was on me again, and this time he didn’t hold back.
He worked my clit with his tongue with brutal efficiency while his fingers filled me, curling and pumping in rhythm.
The orgasm hit like a bomb.
I screamed his name, my hands fisting in his hair, holding him against me as wave after wave crashed through me.
He didn’t stop. Didn’t slow.
Pushed me through one orgasm and straight into another.
By the time he finally pulled away, I was shaking. Tears streamed down my face.
He crawled up my body, wiping my tears with his thumb.
Then he kissed me. Slow. Deep. Let me taste myself on his tongue.
“Good,” he murmured against my lips. “Because we’re not done.”
He stood, finally undressed.
I watched through heavy-lidded eyes as he stripped off his shirt, his pants, freeing his addictive cock.
I reached for him, but he smacked my hand away, settling between my thighs.
“Look at me,” he said.
I did.
He pushed inside. Slow. Inch by agonizing inch.
So full.
So perfectly full.
“This is mine,” he said, his voice rough. “This pussy. This body. You.”
“Yes.”
He pulled almost all the way out.
Then slid back in.
Slow.
Still so fucking slow.
“Say it.”
“I’m yours.”
“Again.”
“I’m yours, Jack.”
He set a rhythm.
Deep, deliberate thrusts that filled me completely but gave no quarter to the desperate need building again.
“Please,” I gasped. “Faster.”
“Not yet.”
Punishment.
This was punishment for every moment today he had to hold back.
“I want you to remember this,” he said, his eyes locked on mine. “Tomorrow, when you’re sore. When you feel me inside you with every step. I want you to remember that you begged for it.”
“Jack—”
“That you told me you were mine.”
He captured my head in his hands, holding me still.
“That you gave yourself to me.”
He thrust harder now, his face tense, his control slipping.
He slammed into me, his rhythm breaking into something desperate, brutal.
I wrapped my legs around his hips, meeting him thrust for thrust.
“Come for me,” he ordered. “Come on my cock.”
He tried his hand down, tightening on my throat.
Sending me over the edge.
He followed seconds later, his cock pulsing against my thigh as he came.
We stayed there for a moment, both of us breathing hard.
Then he rolled to his side, pulling me against his chest.
His fingers traced idle patterns on my shoulder.
We lay there in silence, listening to the sounds of the town outside.
Hayes’s town.
Where we were trapped.
But for now, in this room, none of that mattered.
For now, I was his.
And he was mine.
Even if admitting it terrified me.