3. Chapter 3
3
Chapter 3
The morning sun streams through my window, and I stretch lazily, still wrapped in the warmth of last night’s memories. Jack’s lips on mine, his hands on my body, the way he said my name…
A smile spreads across my face as I reach for my phone, expecting my usual morning notifications.
Instead, I find:
JACK ELLIS SPOTTED: Secret Romance in Small Town?
Hollywood’s Most Eligible Bachelor Off the Market?
EXCLUSIVE: Inside Jack Ellis’s Hidden Getaway
My stomach drops as I hear voices outside - lots of voices. I rush to my window, still in my sleep clothes, and my heart sinks. There must be two dozen people crowded around the inn’s entrance, cameras flashing. News vans line our quiet street.
From downstairs comes the sound of Jack’s voice, sharp with anger. “No, Sandra, you don’t understand. This isn’t just about me. These people - it’s their home - they don’t deserve this circus.”
My own phone starts ringing. My agent’s name flashes on the screen.
“Malik, I-”
“Have you seen TMZ?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. “They have pictures of you two dancing. Through the window.”
Last night feels like a faraway dream now, shattered by the harsh morning light and the sound of cameras clicking outside.
“I need you to go downstairs,” Malik says. “Jack’s agent is on speaker with him. We need to figure this out.”
I throw on jeans and a sweater, trying to tame my hair into something presentable. The whole way down the stairs, I’m bracing myself for Jack’s reaction. Will last night’s warmth be completely gone? Does he regret everything?
I find him in the kitchen, pacing like a caged lion. He’s already dressed, hair damp from a shower, but the relaxed man from last night has vanished. His jaw is set, shoulders rigid with tension. Still hot as hell, but scary.
He stops when he sees me. For a moment, something flickers in his eyes - something that makes my heart skip - but then his phone crackles with his agent’s voice.
“Jack? Neneh?” She sounds all business. “So this is what we’re thinking. The story’s already out there. Instead of denying it, we control it.”
“What exactly are you suggesting?” Jack’s voice is cold.
“You two are dating. Just started. Very private, very new. You’ll leave together, head to New York. We’ll release a joint statement asking for privacy during this early stage of your relationship.”
The silence that follows is deafening.
“Absolutely not,” Jack says at the same time I blurt out, “Is that really necessary?”
“It’s the best option,” Malik argues through my phone. “The story’s already viral. If we try to deny it now, it’ll just fuel more speculation, more digging.”
“The photos are… compelling,” Sandra adds. “The way you were dancing-”
“That was private,” Jack cuts in, voice sharp. He still doesn’t look at me.
“Nothing’s private anymore,” Sandra says gently. “You know that, Jack. At least this way, you both have some control. A few weeks of dating, an amicable parting - it’s better than months of speculation and stalking.”
I watch Jack’s hands clench on the counter. Last night, those hands were so gentle in my hair, down my back, around my waist…
“The inn,” I blurt. “The photographers - they won’t leave unless we do, right?”
“Probably not,” Malik confirms.
Jack finally meets my eyes. The walls are back up, but there’s something else there too - regret? Worry?
“You don’t have to do this,” he hisses.
“Do we have another choice?”
Sandra and Malik lay out the plan: we leave today, together. They’ll arrange transport to avoid the photographers. Issue a joint statement. A few carefully orchestrated public appearances in New York. Then, in a few weeks, an amicable parting.
Simple. Clean. Fake.
Except, nothing about last night felt fake.
My parents appear in the kitchen doorway, my mother’s eyes are wide with concern, my father’s arm around her shoulders.
“We’ll handle things here,” my father says firmly.
“I’m so sorry,” Jack tells them, and for the first time since this morning, his voice holds real emotion. “This isn’t what I wanted for your home.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” My mother steps forward to squeeze his arm. “This isn’t your fault.”
“I need to pack,” I say, unable to bear the weight of it all.
He nods. “The car will be here in an hour.”
I head upstairs without looking at Jack again. In my room, I start throwing things in a suitcase, trying not to think about how everything changed so fast. Just hours ago, I was falling asleep smiling, my lips still tingling from his kiss. Now we’re about to pretend to date to avoid a scandal.
A soft knock at my door makes me jump.
“Neneh?” Jack’s voice comes low and hesitant. “Can we talk?”
I stare at the door, my hand frozen over the open suitcase. “It’s open.”
He steps inside, closing the door behind him. For a moment, he just stands there, and I can’t help noticing how he makes my childhood bedroom feel tiny. I wonder what he thinks of my pink walls, plush animals, and motivational posters.
“Listen,” he starts, then runs a hand through his hair. “About last night-”
“We don’t have to talk about it.” I turn back to my packing, shoving clothes in with more force than necessary. “It was just a kiss. Obviously, it didn’t-”
“Don’t.” The roughness in his voice makes me look up. “Don’t say it didn’t mean anything.”
“Then what are you saying?”
He takes a step closer. “I’m saying I’m sorry about all this. But I’m not sorry about kissing you.”
The admission hangs between us, heavy with possibility. When I don’t respond, he continues.
“I just… I need you to know that. Before we step into whatever this is about to become.”
“And what is this about to become?”
He’s close enough now that I can smell his cologne, see the tension in his jaw. “I don’t know. But I don’t want to pretend last night didn’t happen.”
His words hang in the air between us, making my heart race. He’s so close I can feel the heat radiating from his body.
“Jack…” My voice comes out breathier than I intend.
“Tell me you felt it, too.” His hand comes up to cup my face, thumb brushing my cheekbone. “Last night. That first day. Right now.”
“You know I did.” I lean into his touch despite myself. “But this whole fake dating plan-”
“Doesn’t have to be completely fake.” His other hand finds my waist, drawing me closer. “Unless you want it to be.”
I should step back. Should think this through. Should remember all the reasons this is complicated.
Instead, I rise on my toes and press my lips to his.
He responds immediately, backing me against the wall as his mouth claims mine. This kiss is different from last night - hungry, almost desperate. My fingers tangle in his hair as his hands slide down to my hips, pulling me flush against him.
He groans against my neck.
“Neneh?” My mother’s voice floats up the stairs. “The car’s here!”
Jack steps back, his expression shuttering though his breathing is still uneven. He runs a hand through his disheveled hair - the only evidence of what just happened.
“We should…” I gesture vaguely at my half-packed suitcase.
He nods once, then surprisingly moves to my suitcase and starts folding the clothes I’d thrown in haphazardly. The sight of Jack Ellis, Hollywood superstar, carefully folding my sweaters in my childhood bedroom is so surreal I almost laugh.
His eyes flick to mine, questioning.
“Nothing. Just…” I move to help him. “This isn’t exactly how I pictured my morning going.”
He doesn’t respond, but his fingers brush mine as we reach for the same shirt, and the contact sends electricity through my arm. The air between us feels charged.
“Car’s here, kids!” my mother calls again.
Jack straightens. “I’ll take your bag downstairs.”
I follow him. My parents are waiting. My mother’s wringing her hands, my father’s arm around her shoulders.
“The car’s in the back,” my dad says. “No cameras there.”
My mother pulls me into a warm hug. “Call us when you get there.” Then she surprises us all by hugging Jack too. He stands stiff for a second before returning her embrace.
“Thank you,” he says quietly. “For everything.”
My father nods, extending his hand. “Take care of our girl.”
The weight of everything fills the kitchen. This isn’t just about escaping photographers. This is me leaving with a man I barely know, a man who kissed me senseless twice in less than twenty-four hours, a man whose walls are so high I’m not sure anyone’s made it over them.
Jack takes my suitcase and leads the way through the back door. A sleek black car idles in the alley, the driver already loading his bag.
As we slide into the backseat, I catch one last glimpse of my parents in the doorway. Then we’re moving, leaving Starlight Bay behind.
Jack stares straight ahead, his profile carved from stone. His hand rests on the seat between us, and I wonder if he’s thinking about the same thing I am - how everything can change so fast.
The driver takes back roads to avoid the press. Jack’s phone keeps buzzing with messages he ignores, his frustration clear in the set of his shoulders.
“You okay?” I ask softly.
He turns from the window, his expression softening when he meets my eyes. “I should be asking you that.”
“I’m fine. Just…” I gesture at his still-buzzing phone. “Seems like a lot.”
“They’ll get bored, eventually. Find someone else to harass.” His voice is bitter, but then he adds more gently, “I’m sorry they dragged you into this.”
“Pretty sure I dragged myself into it when I danced with you.”
The corner of his mouth lifts slightly. “No regrets?”
“About the dancing?” I hold his gaze. “None.”
He reaches for my hand, intertwining our fingers. We sit like that for the rest of the drive, his thumb occasionally brushing over my knuckles, both of us lost in thought about what comes next.
The airfield appears through the trees, a small private hangar set back from the road. A sleek jet waits on the tarmac, its engines already humming.
“Ready?” Jack asks quietly, still holding my hand.
I stare up at the plane. “This is surreal.”
His eyes are intense when I look at him, focused entirely on me, and my breath catches at the heat there.
“Having second thoughts?” he asks.
“About fake dating a movie star?” I squeeze his hand. “Surprisingly, no.”
That gets me a laugh - brief but genuine. Then his phone buzzes again and his expression darkens.
“Ignore it,” I tell him.
“Trying to.” He helps me out of the car, his hand settling on my lower back as we walk to the plane. “But they’re going to make this… complicated.”
“More complicated than it already is?”
His thumb strokes small circles against my spine. “Much more.”
The cabin is all cream leather and polished wood. Jack guides me to a seat, and I catch another whiff of his cologne as he leans over to help with my seatbelt. This close, I notice the slight silver at his temples, the way his lashes cast shadows on his high cheekbones. His fingers brush my hip as he straightens up, and my breath hitches.
“All set?” His voice is low, intimate in the quiet cabin.
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. He takes the seat next to me, his muscular thigh pressing against mine in the narrow space. It’s impossible not to be aware of him - his height, his heat, the controlled power in every movement.
The engines rev up, and I grip the armrest. His hand covers mine immediately, his long fingers enveloping my own.
“Not a fan of takeoffs?”
“Not usually flying private,” I admit.
He smirks - and God, that expression should be illegal. His ocean blue eyes, that jawline. His thumb traces circles on my palm, and suddenly I’m not thinking about the plane at all.
The flight crew announces takeoff, and as we speed up on the runway, Jack’s hand stays firmly on mine. The small cabin means we’re close enough that I catch every subtle shift in his expression. Notice how his jaw clenches when his phone buzzes again on the armrest.
“Two hours to New York,” he says as we level off. “Try to rest, okay?”
But rest seems impossible with him this close, with the memory of his kisses still fresh, with his hand covering mine. I’m acutely aware of his presence - the subtle rise and fall of his broad chest, the heat of his thick thigh against mine, how even the simple act of him checking his messages draws my attention to hi big, sexy hands.
Jack catches me watching him and something flashes in his eyes - heat, need, frustration, I’m not sure. But it makes my heart race.
“You should rest too,” I tell him.
“Can’t.” His voice is rough. “Too much to figure out.”
“Like what?”
“Like how to keep the press away from my building. They’ll be waiting.” He sighs heavily. “Sandra’s handling security,” he adds, running a hand through his hair. “We’ll go straight to the garage, ride the private elevator up.”
“Sounds very James Bond-y,” I joke, nudging him with my shoulder.
He chuckles. “Sounds like a pain in the ass.” His expression softens when he looks at me. “Sorry, you have to deal with all this mess.”
“Not your fault someone was creeping through our windows.”
“Still.” He shifts in his seat, and I try not to focus on how the movement brings him even closer. “It’s a lot.”
The rest of the flight passes in charged silence. When we begin our descent into New York, the city sprawls below us in the late afternoon light. Jack’s on his phone, speaking quietly with who I assume is his security team.
I try not to think about what happens when we land. About sharing his space, navigating this strange new reality where we’re supposed to be dating.
When my phone rings with Malik’s name, Jack’s attention snaps to me.
“They’re at my apartment,” I tell him after I hang up. “Camping out in the lobby.”
He lets out a frustrated breath, then his own phone buzzes. The muscle in his jaw ticks as he reads the message. “My place is bad, too. Whole street’s blocked.”
“So, what do we do?”
He’s quiet for a beat, like he’s debating something. Then: “I have a house. Up the coast. Private, secure. No one knows about it, except my sister.” He watches my reaction carefully. “It’s miles from anywhere. We could lie low there until this dies down. Unless you’d rather-”
“No, that…” I try to ignore how my pulse jumps at the thought of being truly alone with him. “That sounds smart.”
His hand is still on mine, and I feel his grip tighten.
“It’s actually…” He pauses, then adds, “it’s on a private island.”
“An island?” I know my eyes must be as big as saucers.
Instead of elaborating, Jack calls the flight attendant, then speaks quietly with her. The pilot announces we’re changing course, and I feel the plane change directions.
Jack settles back in his seat, his hand back on mine, but he says nothing else about our destination. The silence stretches between us, filled with unspoken questions and the lingering heat from this morning’s kisses.
Through the window, I watch the coastline, wondering what exactly I’ve agreed to. A private island. Alone with Jack Ellis.
My phone buzzes with a text from my mother: Be safe, sweetheart. Call when you can.
I type back a quick response, aware of Jack’s warmth next to me, the steady pressure of his hand on mine.
* * *
“Oh, My God.”
The house - if you can call it that - rises from the rocky coastline like something out of a movie. All glass and stone, multiple levels cascading down the cliff face the ocean. The winter light catches on vast windows, making the whole thing gleam. If I needed to be reminded that Jack Ellis isn’t just the man who danced with me in my parents’ dining room and kissed me silly in a small-town inn, there it is.
* * *
“Small place, my ass.” I playfully hit Jack’s arm, and his answering chuckle echoes in the vast entry.
The great room takes my breath away - soaring ceilings, floor-to-ceiling windows that make the ocean feel like it’s part of the space. Modern furniture in shades of gray and blue. Abstract art on white walls. A massive stone fireplace that runs up two stories.
“The bedrooms are upstairs,” Jack says, and something in his deep, rumbly voice makes me very aware that we’re completely alone here. “Kitchen’s over there. The whole place runs on generators and we’re fully stocked.”
I try not to think about what that means - about being here with him, about how the air between us feels charged with possibility.
“How long have you had this place?”
“Few years.” He moves to the windows, hands in his pockets.
The winter light catches his profile as he looks out at the water, and I find myself wondering what he’s thinking, what brought him to create this beautiful, isolated sanctuary.
“Hungry?” He turns back to me. “I can make us something.”
“You cook too?” I follow him to the kitchen, which is all sleek appliances and marble countertops. “Let me guess - trained by a professional chef between Oscar nominations?”
“Smartass.” Jack smirks and there’s warmth in his voice as he opens the fridge. “I just manage the basics. Though I make a very decent pasta.”
I hop on one of the bar stools, watching him move around the kitchen with surprising ease. It feels intimate being in his private space, seeing this side of him.
He reaches for water, pouring us each a glass. Our fingers brush when he hands me mine, and that same electricity sparks between us. His eyes meet mine, and for a moment neither of us moves.
Then something on the stove sizzles, breaking the spell.
“So,” I say, clearing my throat and trying to sound normal. “How long do you think we’ll need to stay here?”
He focuses on chopping vegetables, his shoulders tense. “Few days, maybe longer. Until the press finds something more interesting to chase.”
Or until we figure out what this thing between us really is, I think, but don’t say.
“I can show you to your room,” he says after putting water on to boil. “Let you get settled while this cooks.”
I follow him upstairs, trying not to stare at how his shoulders fill out his sweater, how gracefully he moves despite his size, how deliciously his ass fills his jeans… The second floor is as stunning as the first - more glass, more ocean views.
“This is you.” He opens a door to a beautiful guest suite. “Bathroom. And…” He hesitates, then leads me to another door down the hall. “There’s an office here, if you want to write. Good light.”
The office is gorgeous - a wall of windows overlooking the water, a sleek desk, a comfortable reading chair. Perfect for writing, if I could focus on anything other than the man standing next to me.
“I’ll let you settle in,” Jack says softly. “Lunch in thirty?”
I nod, suddenly overwhelmed by everything - the house, his thoughtfulness, how badly I want to kiss him again. Feel his hands on me. More…
“Thanks, Jack.”
Something flickers in his eyes, but he just nods and leaves me to unpack.
I head back downstairs after freshening up, following the smell of garlic and herbs. Jack’s still in the kitchen, plating pasta that looks far better than “decent.”
“This looks amazing,” I say, sliding back onto my stool.
“Don’t sound so surprised.” He sets a plate in front of me, poking me in the ribs, and I giggle, startled.
We eat at the kitchen island, to the sound of waves. The domesticity of it - sharing a meal in his private space, the comfortable silence - feels both natural and surreal.
“Want to see the rest of the house?” he asks when we’re done eating and cleaning up. At my nod, he adds, “Bring a jacket. Part of the tour is outside.”
The house is insane - a media room, a small gym, terraces that lead to the water. But it’s when we step outside that I truly understand why he loves this place.
A path winds through tall pines, leading us along the rocky coastline. The February air is crisp, carrying the scent of salt and snow. Jack walks close beside me, occasionally steadying me on the uneven ground, each touch sending warmth through me despite the cold.
“This is my favorite spot,” he says as we reach a natural clearing. The view here is breathtaking - endless ocean on all sides, his house perched on the cliff behind us.
He stands close enough that I feel his body heat. The wind whips my hair around my face. He reaches out to help with my hair, and suddenly the warm atmosphere shifts into something more heated. His fingers thread through my curls, and I catch the way his breath hitches when I lean into his touch.
This time, when we kiss, there’s no hesitation. No careful testing of boundaries. Just the heat of his mouth on mine, his large, strong hands pulling me closer, my fingers gripping his sweater. The cold air, the ocean view, everything else fades away except the feel of him, solid and warm against me. Fucking intoxicating. I can’t get enough of the taste of him, his scent.
Jack’s hands slide to my hips as he deepens the kiss, and I make a small sound that seems to spark something wild in him. He walks me backward until I’m pressed against a tree, sheltered from the wind, completely surrounded by him. His hips rolling into mine. And I can feel him. Hard, big. Fucking dizzying.
“We should probably head back,” I manage breathlessly.
“Probably,” he rasps out in an almost growl, but he makes no move. His mouth trails down my neck, as I arch into him.
“It’s freezing out here,” I try again.
Jack lifts his head, and the heat in his eyes completely makes me forget about the cold. God, he’s beautiful. Tall, strong, with his hair disheveled and his cheeks reddened by the icy wind. Breathing heavily. Looking at me like he’s ready to fucking devour me.
“Then let’s go inside.”
Our walk back is charged with anticipation. Every brush of his hand against mine, every glance we exchange, builds the tension higher.
Once we get inside, he shrugs off his jacket, then helps me with mine, his fingers lingering on my shoulders. The great room is bathed in late afternoon light, the fireplace casting a warm glow.
“I should…” I gesture vaguely upstairs, even though leaving is the last thing I want to do.
“Stay,” he says softly.
And of course I do.
The massive leather sofa faces floor-to-ceiling windows, now dark mirrors reflecting the firelight. Jack moves to the kitchen, and I watch his reflection as he makes tea, the easy grace of him moving through his space in socks, reaching for mugs from high cabinets.
He sets our steaming mugs on the coffee table and sinks into the cushions next to me, close enough that I feel the warmth radiating from him.
“Want to watch something?” he asks, reaching for the remote.
I tuck my feet under me, trying not to focus on how the firelight plays across his features. Making an already gorgeous man look even more striking. His eyes, his high cheekbones, that full mouth, and cut jawline. Lord…
I try for lightness. “Wait - is this where you reveal you secretly love romcoms?”
“Not exactly.” He’s smiling as he scrolls through his library. “Though I did direct one.”
“I know. I’ve seen it.”
He groans. “Of course you have.”
“Three times, actually.”
Jack gives me a deadpan look and I laugh. He joins in - a deep, rich sound that makes my stomach do ridiculous things.
As the movie ends, I’m very aware of every small movement he makes, every time he shifts. How close we are sitting. The fire crackles, casting dancing shadows on the walls. When he gets up to add another log, he must have pressed some discreetly installed button because music starts playing softly from hidden speakers - something jazzy and low. He turns back, and in the dim light his eyes are impossibly blue.
Jack holds out his hand. “Dance with me?”
I set my mug down and slip my hand into his, feeling warm and fuzzy all over. He pulls me up and into his arms in one fluid motion, closer than when we danced before. His big, warm hand settles on my lower back, and I let myself melt against him as we sway to the music.
“This is becoming a habit,” I murmur, hyper-aware of his solid chest under my palm, the subtle scent of his cologne. Everything that’s Jack Ellis.
“Any complaints?” His voice is low, intimate, and it does things to my insides.
I tilt my face up to find him already looking down at me, firelight catching the angles of his face. “Not a single one.”
His hand slides up my back, bringing me even closer. My fingers curl into his sweater as his other hand releases mine to cup my face. When he kisses me it’s heat and hunger and the feeling that we’ve been moving toward this moment since I first saw Jack in my parents’ lobby.
I rise on my toes, deepening the kiss, and he makes a sound low in his throat that sends heat spiraling through me. He tastes so fucking good, feels even better this close. His mouth trails down my neck. Leaving wet, hot open-mouthed kisses over my tingling skin.
“Jack…” My voice comes out breathless.
His lips find mine again, hungrier this time. Demanding. Like he’s done trying to fight whatever this is between us. Tongue swirling with mine. Tasting every corner of my mouth. It’s hot, filthy, primal.
His hands slide to my hips, and in one smooth motion he lifts me. I wrap my legs around his waist as he walks us backward until my back meets the cool window. The contrast with his warmth makes me gasp against his mouth.
“Bedroom?” he growls against my neck, biting me softly.
“Yes, please,” I moan.
Jack carries me up the stairs like I weigh nothing, his mouth never leaving mine. Somehow we make it to his room - more windows, moonlight spilling across a massive bed.
He sets me down gently, pulling back to look at me. The heat in his eyes makes me shiver.
“You’re sure?”
Instead of answering, I grab his sweater and pull him down to me. He comes willingly, covering my body with his, and then it’s all hands, lips and desperation. His sweater hits the floor, followed by mine. The first touch of skin on skin pulls ragged sounds from both of us.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, then his mouth is trailing fire down my throat, across my collarbone, lower, lower…
Jack makes a satisfied sound when he gets to the top of my jeans. His gaze locks with mine, wicked, as he pops the button and drags the zipper down slowly. I lift my hips, desperate for more, but he keeps going so damn slow.
By the time my jeans hit the floor, I want to beg him to hurry. But Jack clearly knows what he wants and isn’t about to be rushed. He’s got a look of fierce concentration, and it’s hot as hell.
He kisses the soft flesh above the lace edge of my underwear. I moan and fist the sheets. His tongue swirls around my hip bone, and his fingers hook in the elastic band, dragging them down my thighs.
He stops, kneeling between my legs, just looking at me.
“You’re gorgeous,” he whispers.
“Jack, please,” I pant.
The smile he gives me is pure sin, and then he’s spreading me wide.
“Fuck, Jack!” I cry, back arching.
He laughs darkly, sending vibrations straight to my core. And then his mouth is there. Hot and hungry. Sucking, licking, kissing, and nibbling.
He eats me like a man starved, like I’m his last meal, and it’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever experienced.
My orgasm hits without warning, and my thighs clamp around his head. He only grips me tighter, not letting up.
When the waves recede, I try to move away. “Please. I can’t take anymore.”
He looks up, his beard glistening and his smile wolfish.
“Just one more, for me, please,” he says kissing me deep and wet, making me taste myself.
Then his mouth is back on my pussy, licking, sucking, driving me fucking insane. This time when I come, the sound I make is a sob.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
He presses a kiss to my inner thigh and stands, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Eyes wild, hair all over the place. His barrel chest rising and falling heavily. The way he’s looking at me right now, the possessiveness in his eyes sends a shiver through me. He’s so fucking hot, so big. Piles of muscles, dark chest hair. All man.
He kicks off his jeans and joins me on the bed.
“I want to feel you,” I whisper.
He’s rock-hard, his cock thick and heavy. He takes himself in hand, pumping his length.
“Like this?”
“Yes.”
It’s a heady feeling, watching him. His abs ripple, and his head falls back.
“Wait,” I say.
His eyes meet mine.
“Let me.”
I take him in my hand, marveling at how silky and soft his burning hot skin is.
“Fuck, Neneh,” he groans, his eyes sliding shut.
He’s a fucking sight, all strong lines and thick muscle, spread out for me. I stroke him, experimenting with pressure and pace.
“That’s it,” he moans, thrusting into my hand. “Just like that.”
Watching him, the pleasure all over his face, is a fucking turn-on. Knowing that I can bring him so much pleasure.
“Stop,” Jack says suddenly, gripping my wrist.
Then his hand is between my legs, teasing and stroking.
“Jack-”
“Shh, baby. I know what you need.”
Two fingers plunge inside, stretching me, and my back bows.
“Oh, God.”
“You’re so tight, baby,” he says.
I can only whimper in response.
“Are you ready for me?”
“Yes,” I hiss.
He removes his hand and guides me on my side, facing him. Then he rolls, positioning himself behind me. One muscled arm comes around my waist, drawing me against his chest.
“Okay?”
“Perfect.”
He lifts my leg and hooks it over his hip, opening me to him. Then his cock is there, pushing against my entrance.
“Oh, fuck,” I breathe.
Inch by glorious inch, he fills me. I’ve never felt so full, so stretched.
“So fucking perfect,” he rasps, his breathing ragged.
He begins to move, rocking his hips against mine. Each thrust pushes him deeper, filling me more completely.
“More,” I moan.
“Fuck, yes.”
Our rhythm is slow and sensual. His hand moves between my legs, circling my clit, and the pleasure is almost too intense.
“Come for me, Neneh.”
I’m on the edge, the pleasure sharp, and his words are the final push. My orgasm crashes over me, and I cry out, my nails digging into his arm.
“Jesus, baby,” he moans.
I feel his release, the warm pulse deep inside me, and it’s the most erotic sensation. We stay like that for a long moment, both of us catching our breath.
Finally, Jack rolls onto his back, taking me with him.
“I’ve wanted to do that since the day we met,” he admits, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.
I let out a surprised laugh, still breathless and buzzing.
“Funny way to show it.”
He chuckles, pulling me even closer and kissing my temple.
“Had to.” He presses a kiss to the top of my head. “You’re safe with me, baby. Always.”
And I believe him. Whatever this is between us, I trust Jack will keep me safe.