Chapter 11 #2
There were times in your life when you needed tough love.
When brutal honesty and straight shooting were the only things that might get through to the heart of you.
But that wasn’t what I needed right now.
I needed someone to shake things up, to be a guiding hand and a soft place to land.
I needed room to breathe. To experience the unfamiliar in a safe space.
I needed someone who saw me in a way I couldn’t see myself.
My gaze traced the lines of Jack’s face. The firm edge of his jaw, the dark slash of his eyebrows, and the gentle rise of his cheekbones. He was every roguish, bad-boy fantasy come to life. A modern-day pirate with long hair and a wicked gleam in his eye.
But he was also a reassuring touch and warm fingers laced through mine. Someone who remembered all my favorite things and then actually gave them to me. Awareness and observation and intention. I didn’t know if there was anything sexier than that.
Jack had this way of really listening to me. I’d noticed it before, but anytime I spoke, he focused. Most people were content to carry on a conversation while watching television or listening to the radio, driving a car or scrolling on their phone. But not Jack.
He consistently stopped whatever he was doing and gave me the full weight of his gaze.
He watched me, read my expression, and heard me.
It was almost as if he wanted to zoom out and get the entire picture, the full portrait of me.
Like what I had to say actually mattered.
No matter how small or trivial the topic.
When we’d watched television earlier, I’d felt his gaze on my face while I’d talked. It was a small thing that felt very big in my heart.
I had a bad habit of being intimidated by Jack, by his magnetism and attitude, by my own expectations and memories as well.
In the back of my mind, I still saw him as the lone wolf, the rebel teenager I’d watched from afar.
To have his attention—the full brunt of it—focused on me was .
. . dizzying. It made me feel powerful. Unsettled in the best possible way.
Like a second pulse in my chest. Awareness, bright and intoxicating.
“You could stay, you know,” Jack said casually. “If you wanted.”
Before I lost my nerve, before I let my insecurities stop me in my tracks, I leaned forward, bracing one hand gently on Jack’s spread thigh, and answered him with my mouth pressed to his. I gave in to my wants and desires, the giddy pull in my middle that spoke of attraction and need.
Jack’s lips parted, and I breathed him in.
Leather and warmth, whiskey and something wicked that had me tugging him down on top of me.
As I lay back on the couch and Jack’s weight settled against me, I lost myself in the feel of him.
Deep, drugging kisses that stole my breath.
A rough hand gently cupping my jaw. My tentative touch slipping beneath his shirt, exploring to find the smooth skin of his back.
All his firm muscles welcomed by my softness.
And a growing hardness against my core that had me squirming, even as my legs widened in an effort to get him closer.
There wasn’t any room for doubts and insecurity. There was just Jack, and he was more than enough to hold my attention.
My knees were bent, and I jolted as a warm hand wrapped around my ankle. The touch unexpectedly electric. Jack’s rough palm skated up my calf and along the outside of my thigh, slowly gathering the fabric of my skirt as it went.
I panted into the dimness as Jack’s lips brushed my jaw and then my neck. Little sparks of anticipation flickered in my belly as my body came wide-awake.
I wound unsteady fingers through Jack’s long hair, holding him to me as his tongue traced the column of my throat. He found the sensitive spot along my collarbone, and I arched my back into his touch.
Jack took the invitation and nuzzled his rough cheek against my breast, but it wasn’t enough—wasn’t intimate enough for the ache building inside of me.
“Here,” I whispered. “Let me.” Then I wiggled to create space for my hands.
The dress I wore had a long line of buttons all the way down the front.
Jack pulled back to watch as I unfastened the top four down to my waist, exposing the lace bra I wore.
His eyes dropped to the sheer, pale fabric, and something deep in my core clenched at the way he licked his bottom lip before biting down.
Jack’s gaze came back to mine, pupils dark and wide. He regarded me with that same watchful, patient expression. I liked that he was pacing himself, taking his time, taking care—with me.
There’d been some premeditation involved tonight. I’d asked for this, arranged it essentially. But I appreciated that he wasn’t rushing through it, trying to get it over with.
“Can I kiss you?” he asked solemnly.
My lips twitched in sudden amusement. “You’ve been kissing me.”
Only then did he grin, something teasing and mischievous that had heat spiraling toward my center. “What I meant was, can I kiss you wherever I want?”
I swallowed audibly before replying, “Yes,” the word more breath than sound.
The hand that had trailed so leisurely up my leg gave my hip a firm squeeze, and then Jack slowly slid himself down my body so that he could focus his attention on my lace-covered chest. The movement of his firm stomach against my core had me muffling a little moan.
Jack’s gaze snapped to mine wickedly. “Good to know.”
Then his other hand pushed aside the fabric of my dress, and his mouth descended, hot and wet, right over the center of my breast. The feel of the delicate fabric caught between his tongue and my sensitive skin had me fighting another moan.
Fingers snaked inside my open top, molding themselves to my rib cage, pushing my breast more fully into Jack’s waiting mouth. I kept my hold on his hair, clutching and desperate, tangling the dark strands.
He felt so good on top of me. His weight pressed me into the smooth leather of the couch.
Jack was warm and possessive, attentive and thorough.
The way he always seemed to listen to my words was reflected back intimately in the way he paid attention to my body.
I was his sole focus. From the sounds I made as he licked and sucked and nipped at my flesh as the pleasure built inside me.
My hips were searching, my body needing something—friction, heat, just . . . more. More of Jack. More of this.
Sensing my restlessness, the hand at my hip reached around, finding the edge of my underwear and sliding north to palm one globe of my ass.
At the same time, Jack abandoned my breast, but before I could protest, his mouth found mine once more. He shifted up, using his other hand to brace himself as his erection settled right where I wanted it—where I needed it.
I groaned into his kiss, the sound equal parts needy vibration and gasping breath.
I exhaled brokenly through the exquisite sensation as his hips rolled, jeans rough and welcome against my underwear and the bare skin of my inner thighs.
He was impossibly hard and thick, and I closed my eyes as we moved together in a sensual approximation of sex.
Jack’s hand on my backside tugged in time to his rhythmic thrusts, and I was too far gone to feel embarrassed about my impending orgasm. Lost to the urgency and the need, and getting exactly what I’d asked for without bargaining away my peace.
I wrapped one leg around Jack’s hip, the heel of my foot digging into his ass, urging him on.
Jack made a rough sound before cursing and bearing down hard against my core.
“Oh God,” I exhaled. Our lips brushed with every thrust, breaths quick and jagged against one another.
My nails pressed into the skin of Jack’s back as pleasure tightened through my limbs. I felt the band between us stretching and stretching and stretching until suddenly it snapped.
I fused my mouth with Jack’s and moaned as my orgasm struck. Waves of warmth and desire unfurling, loosening my taut muscles to make way for pleasure, over and over again.
My movements slowed, and Jack followed my lead. But before embarrassment or awkwardness could intrude, he was standing and bringing me with him.
I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and my legs around his waist as Jack held me. His erection nestled against me in a way that had my sensitive skin tingling.
He marched us toward his bedroom, the room dark and cool.
Jack set me down gently near the foot of the bed, hands at my waist to steady me. “Is this okay?”
“Yes.” I nodded eagerly, cupping him in his jeans.
His muffled grunt of approval had me squeezing and stroking the thick outline through the denim. His forehead dropped to rest on my shoulder as his fingers went to work on the remainder of my buttons. Once the dress was unfastened, he pushed it over my shoulders and hips, all the way to the floor.
I paused long enough to step out of the pool of fabric before eagerly lifting Jack’s shirt and tugging it off. His jeans and underwear followed.
I could just make out the hazy shape of him in the darkness. There was only the light sneaking in from down the hallway from the kitchen.
Jack led me to the bed, my heart beating hard in my chest as I lay back. Despite the orgasm I’d had on the couch and the anticipation spiraling through me, I was nervous again, bracing for this next step, lost to my thoughts and fears.
I heard a drawer open and close, felt the bed dip beside me. Then I nearly yelped as Jack’s fingers wrapped around my ankle once again.
“It’s just me,” he said quietly, voice deep and soft.