30. Chapter 30
“Did you know he could sing?” Helen asked.
“No, I didn’t,” Lindsey told Helen, in awe of the performance as practiced as if he’d done it a hundred times on stages twice as big to masses of women who lapped it up, like the ones fawning and cheering from the front row at the Haunt.
“Hot damn, what the hell did you do to him, honey?”
Lindsey barely noticed the bartender, Penny, walk up during Jase’s performance of “Cradle of Love.”
“What I did?” Lindsey asked.
“He went a little nuts the other night, talking about how bad he messed up. I don’t have a lot of experience with men, but I’ve never seen one get so worked up about a woman.”
The song ended. After singing almost exclusively to her, Jase strode through the gaggle of fans that had gathered as if he actually was Billy Idol, straight up to Lindsey, laced his fingers in the ties of her shirt, and pulled her to the women’s bathroom.
She didn’t plant so much as a foot in opposition.
Now he was shutting the bathroom door. Locking it. Taking her face in his hands.
She met the force of his kiss and knew immediately she was completely screw—
Fucked. She was fucked. Might as well get used to admitting it.
Lindsey was in love with this man. And he wasn’t in love with her, but he kissed her like she was air and he’d been underwater too long. What was she supposed to do with that?
Later. Figure it out later.
If he hadn’t whispered smut in her ear, this wouldn’t be happening. Or maybe it was the song. He knew what he was doing onstage and how it affected women.
How it affected her.
As promised, his deft fingers loosened the ties of her shirt, and he ripped the sides open. Cool fingertips woke up every nerve ending from her neck to her stomach, electricity from his featherlight touch pooling between her legs. Then he buried his face in her chest.
Holding her breasts against his cheeks, Jase rubbed his stubble along her soft flesh in a firm but reverent caress as if showing them how much he missed them.
One moment of adoration before his lips closed around a nipple and sucked.
The pull of his mouth and the groan that rumbled from his chest shot straight to her clit that throbbed in a silent plea for his touch.
The first time he’d kissed her breasts she had laid back on the hotel bed and let him slowly explore her, building the same heat, the same burning ache gathering between her legs now.
She wasn’t passively accepting him tonight.
Lindsey wanted to take every drop of Jase that he’d give her, and it started with dragging her fingers through his hair and guiding him to her other nipple with a breathy cry for more.
She always wanted more from him, and sex was the one place he didn’t struggle to give it.
“Tell me,” he urged. Her nipple between his teeth sent another lightning bolt to her clit that buckled her knees. “I’ve got you, baby. Tell me what you need.”
All of you.
“Everything,” she panted.
His hands fit perfectly around her breasts as he kissed her mouth in the desperate, consuming way their tongues had tangled in the hotel room in Santa Barbara the night her rules finally broke.
“I want to hear you say it,” he growled, and her lower back bumped into the sink where Jase pinned her.
They’d played this game in Santa Barbara too. Sex had been both a pleasure and a punishment until he’d worked a confession out of her on that seedy motel bed.
She wanted him. Had never stopped wanting him.
“I want you to take me. Right here. Fuck me—”
His calloused palms worked her skirt up to her waist and set her on the edge of the counter.
“I love it when you say fuck,” he told her.
Her panties came off in his fist and he stuffed them in the front pocket of his jeans, leaving her open and bare to him. If this was a mistake, it was one she was prepared to pay for once he relieved the ache.
His fingers on her clit nearly sent her off the counter.
“Christ, Lindsey,” he murmured. There was no pretending she didn’t want him. He’d feel her desire on his hand and see it blazing in her eyes. He’d lied to her, hurt her, and still she needed him to touch her the way only Jase seemed to know how.
Lindsey clutched his shirt and pressed into his hand, urging his two fingers deeper. He watched her with a hooded, hungry expression as he slid his fingers in and drew them back out in a too-slow rhythm pulling her senses taut.
“Always so fucking wet,” he bit out.
While she still had some control over her body, she unbuttoned his pants and reached down the front.
Her groan curling her fingers around his hardness was shameless, really.
She had never appreciated a penis so much or wanted one inside her so badly she’d have to hold back her orgasm to make sure it happened on him, not his hand.
She pulled his erection free and brought the tip toward her body. He got the message and spread his fingers as he pulled them out to make room for what Lindsey really wanted.
Holding on to her thighs to keep her perched on the edge of the sink, he angled himself and filled her with one jarring thrust.
“Motherfuck—” he hissed.
And it was everything.
Having Jase inside her was the kiss at the nightclub in Santa Barbara that obliterated her defenses, and the motel afterward where he’d taken the rest of his pent-up tension out on her body.
It was the hotel in Santa Cruz where he’d taken his time—hours—to bring her orgasm after mind-altering orgasm with his mouth.
It was Austin, and their first kiss collapsing a set of dominoes in the hotel hallway that would eventually lead them right back here.
As if he was rocked by the same understanding, Jase closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers.
Relief. That’s what this was. Relief to be here again.
He nudged her nose and kissed her. She could live in that moment forever, feeling the warm press of his lips, the fullness of Jase inside her.
It was as close as he ever let her get to him, and if they stayed that way for too long, Lindsey would never be able to pry herself free.
“Fuck me, Jase,” she whispered because I love you would’ve sent him away.
He opened his eyes. Relief hardened into something darker. A primal need igniting the instinct for Lindsey to hold on.
It was slow at first. Hard, deep thrusts puncturing her womb.
He squeezed her hips, and she wrapped her legs around his waist to take every inch of him.
There was none of the shyness from back when the word wetness made her blush.
Lindsey was getting railed in a bathroom by a man whose hands would probably leave purple imprints on her hips, and the kind of—she might as well get used to the word—cock women wrote about in romance novels.
She’d be ruined tomorrow, but tonight his cock was beating breathy moans from her body and her rear was bruising against the counter with his insistent thrusts and the words flying out of her mouth were as vulgar as the writing on the bathroom wall.
For a good time, call Jase Young.
It was almost over when she saw it.
Or don’t. He’s a fucking fuck.
A whole section of tile by the sink dedicated to the fucking fuck who was giving her a very good time right now.
You’re just jealous, bitch.
Hotttttt.
Get ya some.
That number doesn’t work anymore.
AssHOLE.
Jase, how do we finnnnnd youuuuuu.
The sickening drop of her stomach was at odds with the coiling between her legs.
She slapped a hand over the words written in so many different colors and handwritings and pushed her face into his neck as she broke.
The orgasm sent a shockwave from her core through her entire body, that was foolishly clinging to the only man who had ever made her feel helpless in his hands.
Underneath her own palm, the truth of Jase Young waited.
Feeling her orgasm, he tightened his grip on her hips and let himself go. How many other women had he sung to, then taken back to this bathroom? How many others had sat on the edge of this sink and let him spill inside of them, knowing this was all they were ever going to get?
They weren’t questions. They were reality…every warning she’d ever been given spelled out in permanent ink. She would’ve written, “I second that,” beside the woman who called Jase a fucking fuck if Lindsey had a pen.
As soon as he stopped throbbing inside her, she pushed him away and climbed off the counter. Penny’s words came back as she pulled her panties from his pocket and hobbled to one of the partitioned stalls.
I don’t have a lot of experience with men, but I’ve never seen one get so worked up about a woman.
Damn Penny. Damn Jase.
Her clit was still throbbing and tears burned in her eyes.
And damn me for getting so worked up about a man.