15. Adair
15
ADAIR
“ A re those hickeys?” Gigi’s eyebrows arch up and keep climbing.
“Mind your own business,” I mutter, tossing a dishrag in her direction. A smirk twists up the corners of her mouth. I pick the dishrag up with a sigh.
Gigi scrunches her nose as she looks at me. “What’s up with your hair?” I figure she’s asking because her sister, Maureen, used to cut my hair. Actually, I usually just asked sheepishly if Maureen would trim my bangs for free.
Now I shrug, feeling a little self-conscious. What made sense back when Jack asked, his eyes intense and possessive, now seems awkward. I push the thought out of my mind as I push my hair out of my eyes and remind myself: Jack said he would like it better long.
Gigi is looking at me like I’ve got a second head rather than just sheepdog bangs, and I realize I’ve spaced out on her. “Sorry, I got distracted for a minute there. I think I’m gonna try and grow it out.”
“Ohh, that makes sense. Well, you might want to wear a baseball cap or something while the bangs are growing out. Actually —” she perks up, eyes bright. “I think I have a hat in my car. Dylan won it a couple weeks ago when we went to that music festival at the fairgrounds.”
Gigi comes back a minute later and hands me a trucker hat with the name of a band I sort of like on it. She looks at me expectantly. “What, you think I should put it on now?” I ask. She scrunches up her nose again. “Does my hair seriously look that bad?”
She shrugs, looking sheepish. “It’s just at that awkward stage. I’m sure it’ll be good in another few weeks.”
I ’m at the stove, stirring spaghetti as it softens to get it all in the boiling water —one of the few things Jack trusts me to do in the kitchen.
He frowns at me when he walks in. “What’s up with the stupid hat?”
“It’s not stupid. Gigi gave it to me.”
“Do you even like their music?”
“I mean, I guess. It’s just to keep my bangs out of my face.” A little self-conscious now, I reach out and adjust the brim. Jack comes up to me and yanks it down over my eyes.
“Hey!”
“It looks dumb.”
I sigh in annoyance. “I need something to keep them out of my face until they’re long enough to tuck behind my ears or put in a ponytail.”
He frowns. “No, you don’t.”
“What do you want me to do? Just let it hang in my face? Barrettes aren’t exactly my style.”
I feel him fucking with the hat again and fly my hand up, but he’s too quick, yanking it off before I can stop him. He gives me a crooked little grin.
“Yeah. Just leave it like this.” He tousles it, making it even more of a mess. I groan, but Jack just laughs. He tosses the hat out of my reach onto a chair and wraps an arm around me, tucking me up against him with a grin.
“What if I said please? Hmm?” He drops his lips onto the top of my head.
“OK, OK.” I sigh in mock exasperation. “I’m such a sucker.”
I can’t see his face, but I swear I can feel his grin above me.
W hen I come back into the bedroom after my shower the next morning, I’m surprised to see Jack leaning against the dresser, evidently waiting for me. He’s naked, with one hand behind his back, messy bedhead and a wolfish smile.
I stop short in the doorway, hair damp and towel wrapped around my waist. “What?”
He narrows his eyes. “Come here.” Between the look in his eye and his tone of voice, I wonder what’s up.
Jack doesn’t keep me guessing for long. “Get rid of that,” he says, nodding down. I assume he means the towel wrapped around me and toss it onto the bed.
“I won’t leave it there this time, I prom —”
“Shut up, you dumb bunny,” he whispers. Oh fuck, he just went full bossy asshole on me right after I let go of the only thing I could have used to cover my dick, which just snapped to attention.
When I glance down, I’m surprised to see that Jack is hard, too. He grabs onto my hip hard enough to leave finger marks and shows me what he was hiding behind his back: A big metal butt plug.
I can feel my eyes get bigger as Jack snickers. “You’re going to wear this for me today —all day.”
“But I have to go to work!”
That predatory grin reemerges. “That’s why I got this one instead of making you use the one with the tail.”
I swallow hard and blink at the thing. It’s… huge. Sure, it’s not any bigger than the one Jack impaled me with right before he stripped me naked so he could chase me through the dark woods, but it wasn’t like I had to wear the thing for a full shift, dashing around and bending over and picking things up and talking to customers like nothing was out of the ordinary, like I didn’t have a giant torpedo of stainless steel jammed up my ass.
Jack’s voice breaks through my thoughts. “You’re lucky. I considered getting one of the vibrating ones.”
“ What?”
Jack smirks. “I’m going to text you today. A few times, maybe more. Depends on how bored I get at work. But when I do, you’ve got thirty seconds to send me a picture showing me that plug is still up your slutty hole, right where it belongs.” His hand on my hip drifts down to my ass, giving a cheek that’s still marked from his belt a rough squeeze. I pull in a quick hiss of breath between my teeth to hold back a whimper.
“OK, but you don’t mean, like, literally thirty seconds, do you? Sometimes I can’t get away right away, or there’s a customer using the men’s bathroom or something.”
His brows draw low. “I don’t want to hear your fucking excuses. Thirty seconds. And for every second you’re late, that’s a smack with my belt when I get home.”
“It’s still sore from the other night,” I whisper, my words catching in my throat.
“I know.” Jack grabs me. “C’mere.”
He sits down on the edge of the bed and points between his spread legs. I hustle over and drop to my knees as he hands me the lube, saying, “I want you gagging on my cock while you work this inside of you.”
I feel a kick of need between my legs and wish I didn’t have to leave for work so soon. Jack holds my head down, forcing me to take him deep even as I’m invading my own ass with that plug. I whine around his cock in my mouth, hoping for some relief, but my sounds of distress only make his cock swell more. My eyes start streaming tears as I fight my gag reflex, my nose pressed against his bush. Oh God —the way Jack smells makes me whimper with need. I ride the wave of arousal that ripples through me and shove the plug deep inside of me.
Jack chuckles. I can’t tell what part of my predicament amuses him, but the precum I’m lapping up from his slit when he goes back to fucking my mouth tells me he’s definitely enjoying this. He grins down at me. “You’re going to be late if you don’t get out of here in three minutes. So get to work.”
T he first text of the day comes as I’m pulling into the parking lot. There’s no words, just a camera emoji. A second text comes in right after it: a stopwatch emoji.
Fuck. It’s early enough that the odds of somebody cutting through the back parking lot are pretty slim, but how in the hell am I going to maneuver this?
I hop into the backseat as I frantically unbuckle my belt and yank down my pants and my underwear, squirming around with my legs up at an ungodly awkward angle as I try to snap a picture.
It’s blurry, but the silver base of the plug is definitely visible. Jack didn’t say anything about photo quality, so I send it. I pull myself back together before I exhale a giant sigh of relief. My hand is on the door handle when my phone buzzes.
You shitting me? Can’t fucking see. Do it again.
I sigh. Jack didn’t say, but I assume the thirty-second rule still holds, so I scramble to yank my pants down again.
Angling the phone at my asshole, I snap another photo and examine it for a second. It’s sure as shit not flattering, but it’s not blurry either, so off it goes.
The reply comes two seconds later: better .
I’m a little ashamed at how much that one word brightens my spirits.
T he first two hours I’m behind the counter, I’m so conscious of the plug that I’m half-convinced everybody can tell I have it in, especially when I turn around to get an espresso or bend down to grab a restock for napkins or cup sleeves.
Gigi notices either my stiff movements or my constipated expression and asks if I have a bellyache with a look of concern. I feel bad for making her worry about me when it’s just a stupid butt plug, but I can’t tell her that.
My initial humiliation is so acute that when I go to take a piss after lunch, I’m shocked to feel my hole clench around it. Holy shit. I’d completely forgotten it was there.
The realization is almost… empowering? It gives me the same sort of fizzy thrill as growing out my hair. I’m weirdly proud of myself. I don’t understand why Jack makes me feel like this. But maybe I don’t need to.