Chapter 43 Jagger
JAGGER
Fucking asshole. It feels like, with one conversation, my dad managed to inject habaneros into my veins. Now I’m left burning from the inside out. I need to get out of here. I need to find some privacy so I can calm the hell down.
There’s probably a dozen bathrooms scattered throughout the building. No doubt, each will have individual locks, a single toilet, and a small sink. Heaven forbid, these pretentious assholes have to piss while someone might be listening.
When I find one, I drag Violet inside and close the door behind us, careful not to slam it.
Heaven forbid, I draw attention to us. It’s a good thing she suggested we leave.
If she hadn’t, I might’ve killed him with my own two hands, and I’m still not convinced it wouldn’t have been worth it.
I feel like I’m vibrating, like I’m strapped up to a nuclear power plant and I might explode if I can’t find a way to disconnect.
Letting Violet’s hand go, I turn on the faucet and splash some water on my face in hopes of clearing my mind, though I doubt it‘ll work. I can’t believe I honestly thought he’d be civil for the night.
Sure, anytime we’re all in the same room together, shit is tense.
But usually, he cares enough about the public’s perception of the Harden name to keep his asshole remarks locked down, saving his acid tongue for phone calls and family dinners where no one can witness it.
But tonight? Tonight, he let it fly, and I can’t believe I brought Violet here and forced her to communicate with the bastard.
Water drips off my nose and chin as I grip the edge of the counter, unable to look at her. “Violet, I’m so sorry,” I mutter.
Get a fucking grip.
I scoop some more water onto my face.
“Hey,” Violet murmurs.
Turning off the faucet, I reach for the towel and dry off. My body feels coiled like a spring. I want to hit something. No, I want to hit my dad. What I wouldn’t give to beat the shit out of the asshole.
“Hey,” Violet repeats. Her touch is gentle, hesitant, as she presses her hand to my back. “Are you okay?”
The feel of her palm manages to snap me from my spiral, but just barely. Breathing in deep through my nose, I let out the breath through my mouth, repeating the process three more times.
Calm. The hell. Down.
“Hey,” she says a third time. This time, it sounds more like a greeting than an attempt to bring me back from the darkness. “There he is,” she teases, running her hand along my spine.
My head falls forward as I hold onto her voice and the gentle brush of her hand. The rhythm. The pressure. The warmth. I’m not in that room anymore. I’m okay. She’s okay. “I’m sorry,” I rasp.
“What? Why?”
“You shouldn’t have had to sit through that bullshit interrogation.”
With a soft laugh, she grabs my face and forces me to look at her. “Do you really think I didn’t see it coming, Jag? Come on.” She rolls her eyes. “Seriously. I’m fine. Who I’m worried about, is you.”
Me? She’s worried about me? I’m stuck with the asshole, but Violet? Violet doesn’t have to put up with his bullshit. I still can’t believe he tried to ask if she fucked anything that walks until I stopped him. And then? The audacity to say she’s better off without her mother? How could he—
“Jag?” she prods.
“I’m fine,” I lie.
She folds her arms.
“I am fine,” I say, doubling down. And it’s true.
On paper, I’m fine. The problem is, shit with my dad goes so much deeper than surface level, and every interaction makes me second-guess what’s up and what’s down.
What’s right and what’s wrong. And what did I do?
Instead of protecting Violet from his shit, I brought her along and fed her to the wolf.
Another surge of guilt pulses through me.
“I shouldn’t have lost my shit or invited you or subjected you—”
“Hey.” The look she gives me reminds me of a strict school teacher. “You can’t rescind your invitation now. It’s just rude.”
As if she found a chink in my anger, my mouth lifts.
I don’t know how she does it. How she can stomach being in a room with the sonofabitch, then come in here with me, determined to make me smile.
The woman’s more perfect than she knows, even after everything she was subjected to tonight. “Vi, I’m so—”
“If you apologize one more time, I’m not going to be fine. Do you hear me?”
Scrubbing my hand over my face, I grumble, “How can I fix this?”
“There’s nothing for you to fix.” She sighs. “Me, on the other hand.”
A low, humorless laugh rumbles through me. “Nothing for you to fix, either. I shouldn’t have lost control.”
“I’d hardly call you standing up to your father losing control.”
“Still feels like it," I mutter, replaying the last twenty minutes despite knowing it won’t do anything to calm me down. “Want the truth, Vi?” I take another deep breath. “I hate him for making me feel like I’m out of control anytime we’re in the same room.”
“Then take it back,” she whispers.
Take it back? Take what back? I drop my hand from my face and stare down at her. “What?”
“You said he makes you feel out of control,” she says. “So, take it back. Take control. If that’s what you need right now, take it from me.”
Her pretty red lips. The silky sheen clinging to her gold, wavy hair.
The black dress showcasing her beauty. How can she look so put together while making me the priority after everything she’s been through tonight?
It shouldn’t make sense, but for some reason, I can’t find it in me to be surprised.
This is Violet Reeves. Her entire life is built upon reacting and pivoting and handling her shit in a way that’s impressive—and sexy—as fuck.
Grabbing her wrist, I bring her palm to my lips, kissing her. “You want me to boss you around?”
She tries hiding her smirk by nibbling the edge of her bottom lip, but it doesn’t do shit. Nope. The playful tilt of her pouty lips causes my blood to run south as I take her in. Violet Reeves. And she’s all mine. “Yes,” she whispers. “Yes, I want you to boss me around.”
My cock pulses in my slacks. I kiss her fingers this time, then let go of her.
Okay, beautiful. You want to play? Let’s play.
“Distract me,” I order.
Those big doe eyes peer up at me, proving we’re on the same page, even if she’s hesitant to admit it out loud. Giving in, she palms me through my slacks. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
“Take me out.”
Holding my stare, she reaches for my slacks.
The familiar zip of the metal teeth unzipping echoes throughout the otherwise silent bathroom.
It mingles with her quiet breathing as anticipation grows around us.
The warmth from her palm brands itself against my dick as she grabs me through my boxers, massaging me over the thin material.
My balls clench at the contact, and I breathe in through my nostrils, determined to keep my willpower in check no matter how easy it would be to pick her up and fuck her shamelessly.
But that would ruin the game, wouldn’t it?
“Take me out,” I repeat.
She swallows, her gaze never leaving mine, and pulls out my cock from my gray boxers.
Beads of precum already cling to the head.
Call me a bastard, but I’ve been craving her since the moment I saw her in her dress.
So perfect. With a hot as hell innocence, she runs her thumb along the crest, gathering the lubricant and driving me insane.
“On your knees,” I order.
She drops in an instant.
“Good girl.”
Licking her lips, Violet swirls the precum around the head with her thumb.
Just as hesitant and unsure. She’s nervous.
Maybe she should be. We’ve never done this before.
Not together. I want to ask if she’s ever given a blowjob, but I have a feeling the added commentary will only feed her insecurities and heighten the pressure I know she already feels.
“You have no idea how pretty you look like this,” I assure her. “On your knees, anxious to please me.”
Her head bobs in a nod. “I am.”
“Good,” I growl. “Now, kiss it.”
Peeking up at me, she pulls my cock toward her lips, then looks back at my dick an inch in front of her.
Her pretty pink tongue darts out between her lips, moistening them before her breath cools the head.
The feeling forges an ache in my balls, and I swear I could come from that alone.
Nothing but a puff of air, as long as it belongs to Violet.
Then, she closes in and kisses it softly.
My dick twitches at the innocent contact.
The hesitancy. I fight the urge to force myself between her red painted lips, craving her innocence as much as I crave the opportunity to come down her throat.
“Lick the slit.”
Using the tip of her tongue, she does as she’s told, tasting my precum. Her brows dip, and she does it again, this time with a bit more curiosity. Less hesitation. That’s my Little Thief.
“Suck on the head,” I order.
She brushes her lips against me as if putting on lipstick, opens her mouth, and gently sucks on the tip.
It’s as unsure as when she tasted my precum, and just as hot, too.
I was right. This is her first time giving head.
My chest fills with pride, but I keep my expression locked down. “Squeeze the base,” I grind out.
She winds her small hands around my shaft and squeezes me, massaging my length until I can’t help but grit my teeth.
I’ve had a lot of head, more than I’d like to admit now that I know what it’s like to actually enjoy the person’s company with whom I’m hooking up with.
But Violet? There’s something about her.
About the way she touches me. Her little mewls.
Her eagerness to please me. The way she looks up through her thick lashes, watching my response. Desperate to earn my validation.
I was wrong before. This is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
“Take me deeper,” I growl.