19. Chapter 19 Margot
Chapter nineteen
Ugh, go away. I’ve been trying to ignore the knocking on my door, but whoever it is is persistent.
Finally taking my eye mask off, I sigh dramatically as a glance at the clock confirms it’s way too early to be getting out of bed on one of my precious days off.
I wrap myself in a robe as I make my way to the door, wondering who in the hell would be banging on my door at nine o’clock in the morning.
“ Please don’t be a murderer ,” I repeat over and over until I lift my peephole and see Jack waiting with a bouquet of pink flowers.
I swing the door wide open and jump into his arms, barely giving him time to realize what’s happening in order to catch me. “Jack! What are you doing here?” I scream, holding on to him as tight as humanly possible.
He walks me inside and tries to set me down, but I refuse to let go.
Tears begin to run down my face, and I finally admit to myself that I was upset about not being able to go home for Thanksgiving this year.
The moment Jack realizes I’m crying, he sets me down on my kitchen island and cups my face with both of his hands, using his thumbs to wipe away the tears. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong, baby girl?”
He’s standing between my legs in an embrace that feels more intimate than any we’ve ever shared.
“It’s just…you’re here!” I say between sobs.
“Well, I felt so bad that you couldn’t make it home this year, so I decided to come to you. I couldn’t leave my best girl alone on Thanksgiving.”
My arms are back around his neck, pulling him closer to me as I revel in having not just anyone here with me today, but my Jack. We only stay like that for a moment before we both seem to realize the new position has his most definitely hard dick lined up with my most definitely wet pussy .
Well, at least my tears are gone.
Jack steps back, allowing me to hop down, and turns to discreetly adjust himself while I sneak away to get myself somewhat ready for the day.
The urge to go full glam is hard to resist, but since Jack is dressed casually in gray joggers and a long-sleeved tee, I match the vibe with leggings and an oversized sweatshirt.
Deep breaths .
Making my way back into the living room, I watch as this beautiful man wanders around, taking everything in. This is the first time he’s been in my apartment, and it’s heartwarming to see him so interested in my home.
Holy shit, this is the first time he’s ever been in my apartment.
We’ve been alone in a house before, but something about being alone in my relatively small one-bedroom space increases my heart rate. We could do anything, and nobody would be here to stop us.
“Well, what do you want to do today, Princess?” he asks, bringing me back to the moment.
You.
Sigh.
“I was just planning on watching the parade in my pajamas, ordering way too much food, then getting cozy on the couch and probably falling asleep watching Christmas movies.”
Jack plops down on my couch and pats the seat beside him. “Let’s do it, then.”
I walk around the couch and sit down where he requested, allowing him to position me with my legs draped across his lap.
He gets the parade turned on the TV, then starts massaging my feet just like when I was younger.
It’s been years since anyone has given me a foot massage, and when he hits a pressure point, I can't stop myself from letting out an involuntary, “Mmm. Don’t stop.”
I realize just how sexual that sounded around the same time I feel his dick start getting hard under where my ankle rests against his thigh.
Jesus, he feels huge.
I think about excusing myself again and avoiding the situation, but if we’re ever going to get through this day, we’ve got to get past this tension.
“Damn, I don’t know who’s getting the most out of this massage.
” I put the slightest bit of pressure on him where my foot rests before pulling my feet back and giving him a little light kick to the side of his head.
“Do you need me to go get Mr. Bean to help you too?”
Jack grabs my foot away from his face and casually throws it off his head. “ Brat. If you didn’t sound like you were in a goddamn porno instead of getting a foot massage…”
“Hmm, I’m not sure a foot massage isn’t better than sex anyway.”
Jack’s head snaps to mine. If looks could kill, I’d be dead.
The anger on his face contorts into an expression I can’t decipher.
He has a brow raised, and his mouth is locked in a battle between trying to smirk and biting his lip.
He opens his mouth to say something, but just shakes his head and turns back toward the TV, chuckling.