27. Jenna
JENNA
“ W hat is wrong with you?” I scold my reflection in the car’s rearview mirror.
I made out with my client. This is a disaster. I’m screwed.
Well, not literally—as much as I secretly want it. It was a kiss. Well, not just one but a few kisses. They can all be summarized into one kiss.
I fish around for a wet wipe, but I left all my stuff in McCarthy’s living room.
There’s no way he actually wants to take me to his bed. He’s just mad about the men I dated—two of whom are de facto family members, so that’s a new low for Jenna.
He’s doing it to yank my chain. He cares only about winning. Everything else is collateral damage—including me .
The way his hand felt between my legs, his mouth on my nipple, that deep voice saying, “ When was the last time you had a man touch your clit… ”
It has been a while.
My panties are soaked. The inside of the car isn’t cold, but it’s not exactly warm either.
I wrap McCarthy’s suit coat around me, close my eyes, breathe in the smell of him, remember his gray eyes, warm like the moments after a summer storm, silently telling me to fall in love with him.
That’s my problem. You don’t have to tell me twice to fall in love with a man who is bad for me in a hundred different ways.
He says he wants me, my heart cries out. A boy wants me and thinks I’m special.
Or maybe I’m just horny.
Definitely that.
My legs spread. I can’t stop it, can’t stop my hand that slides down cautiously, under soaking-wet panties.
I whimper in relief as my fingers touch my swollen pussy, sliding around cautiously then faster. Biting my lip, my eyes closed, I stroke my clit.
All I can think about is him. McCarthy.
Make me the center of your universe.
I strain, my back pressing against the door when my hips give an involuntary jerk as I think about his face there , hot breath on my—
I curse because I’m falling out of the car, the door having been wrenched open. A large hand tangles in my hair, dragging me up and out of the car, and I’m screaming.
He silences it with a kiss, his mouth crushing to mine .
“I knew you were going to be in here touching yourself, Cupcake.”
He grabs my hand, the one that was about to get me off thinking about him.
His tongue curls around my fingers, tasting me.
I want to fight it, him, the desire. My legs want to betray me and sink down in front of him.
He pushes me down, the massive weight of him crushing me into the plush seat as he kisses me hard, sliding his hands up under my dress so it gathers around my waist. His mouth is hot on my tits, sucking me, his tongue on my nipples. He yanks my panties down to my knees.
I hate how much I want this.
I don’t actually want him, I try to tell myself. It’s just sex. People have sex with people they barely know all the time.
He grabs my hand and sucks on my fingers then pushes my hand down between my legs, using my fingers to stroke my pussy.
“You want to touch yourself in my car instead of giving yourself to me, letting me take care of you? You were pretending I was watching you, weren’t you?”
“No.” I make a strangled noise as he clenches my wrist to push my fingers against my clit. “I wasn’t thinking about you,” I lie. “You’re so full of yourself.”
He jerks back. His shirt collar is unbuttoned, his tie gone—somewhere upstairs, maybe. Had I taken it off?
I twist my hand so I can trail wet fingers on the bare triangle of his chest.
“Let’s pretend I believe you, Cupcake.” He purrs the words against my tits, his fingers spreading my pussy, then on my clit, in my cunt, on my ass.
My knee bangs against the hard edge of the car .
“You have no idea how much I want to give you my come right now.”
His other hand on my tits is rough. He slides two fingers in my mouth while he still strokes me.
I can only make a strangled noise. My hips jerk up against him as I suck on his fingers.
“I want you sucking my cock like that.” He leans over and grabs my jaw hard, holding my head so he can kiss me. My legs seize up, and my foot kicks at the door as his fingers twist and I’m coming on his hand.
He doesn’t let up.
“ Shit. ” I pant against his mouth. I’m in so much trouble.
“I told you you’d spread your legs for me eventually, didn’t I?” He’s smug as he finger-fucks me, curling inside me.
“You don’t know how hard I am. I could come all over your pussy right now, with you just like this. Is that what you want you want? My cock?”
Crap. Somehow he’s going to make me come again.
I grab at his hand. As much as I want to tear open his starched white shirt and rake my nails over his washboard abs, that feels a little bit like it would be heading into lovemaking territory.
And though yes, I might be merrily skipping down the road to sex with my client, I am not falling in love with him.
He’s stroking me now, his fingers a delicious friction on my pussy, trying to wring another orgasm from me.
“Am I making you fall in love with me yet?” He kisses me, nuzzles my neck. “Mm? Am I your whole world?”
“Never,” I gasp as he brings me higher and higher. “God, I hate you,” I choke out as I come, shuddering and grinding against his hand like I’ve never had an orgasm before .
To be fair, nothing with any of my former fiancés or lackluster ex-boyfriends was anything like what McCarthy just did.
He licks his fingers like a cat while he half leans over me, watching as I pant, messy and half passed out on the seat of his car. He’s playing with my tits, stroking them, and I slap at his hands when I realize he’s scrawling his signature over my skin.
“Stop it.”
I turn away from him, trying to tug my clothes back into place.
“After that, I should make you get on your knees and suck my dick before I let you back upstairs,” he says, his tone conversational.
“Screw you.”
“Think about it, Cupcake.”
My phone goes off. I jump for it, but he’s faster, grabbing my wrist and twisting it until I grunt in pain.
“Give me that.”
He shoulder checks me so I can’t take the phone from him. McCarthy swipes, displaying the message on the lock screen, and angles his body suddenly so I can’t see the screen.
“Give me your hand,” he orders.
“No.”
“Do it.”
His hand is a vise on my wrist as he uses my thumb to unlock the phone. His face is dark and murderous as he forwards the message to himself then deletes it from my phone.
“What is it?”
He ignores me, tossing the phone back to me. “You’re coming upstairs with me.”
Have some self-respect, Jenna .
“No thanks.”
His fist connects with the window, making me jump.
“I’m done playing with you.” His hand is on my neck, his teeth bared, his nose practically touching mine. “See reason for once in your life.”
“I’m not sucking your dick,” I tell him stubbornly.
His features shift from anger to an approximation of soft affection. It’s unsettling.
I’m feeling woozy from the orgasm and the emotional whiplash of him.
“Of course not.” He kisses me softly, gathering me in his arms. I do not trust him at all.
“Let me run you a bath, wrap you in blankets.”
“I’m fine.”
His features shift again to fury. “That’s how you want to be? Then you can sit here in your own pussy juice and think about how stubborn and impossible you’re being.”