Chapter 60
HARLOW
The apartment is pitch black when we stumble inside.
“Fuck,” Jae curses, his feet getting tangled up in mine.
Normally I leave a battery-operated light on in the corner of the kitchen if I know it’s going to be dark when I get back, but I forgot to turn it on.
“Just a second,” I say breathlessly, pulling away from him. I locate the light and tap the base. It gives enough of a glow that we can see the shape of things, but not so much to kill the mood.
“Turn around,” he commands. “And put your hands on the counter.”
With a whimper, I do as I’m told. He feels along the sides and back of my dress until he locates the zipper and slides it down gently.
I can breathe easier once the dress slips off my body.
Not because it was too tight, but because I was suffocating under the weight of it being something Spencer bought me.
I go to step out of my heels, but Jameson nips at my shoulder. “Leave them on.”
I shiver at the tone in his voice, the one that promises delicious torture.
He unsnaps my strapless bra and lets it fall to the ground. Dropping to his knees behind me, he loops his fingers in the side of my thong and drags it down.
“Spread your legs, baby.” He taps the inside of my left knee.
Heart racing, I do just that.
“Mm,” he hums, sliding his fingers against my slick core. “So wet for me already.”
Despite my internal panic, I can’t control the way my body always responds to him.
“Yes.”
“Keep your hands on the counter,” he commands.
I bite down on my lip. I desperately want to turn around and see him kneeling there, but I want to be good for him.
Spreading my fingers on the counter, I hold my breath and wait for what he’s going to do next.
He glides his fingers lightly up and down my inner thighs and I bite down on my lip to stifle a moan.
“Jae,” I gasp.
“Quiet.”
I fail epically on that when she spreads me wide and latches his mouth onto my pussy,
“Holy fuck,” I gasp, struggling for breath.
He slaps my ass. “I said, quiet. Now be a good girl and shut up.”
Biting down hard on my lip, I focus on my breaths so I don’t make any noise, but it’s easier said than done.
Sliding his fingers in, he curls them in the way he knows drives me insane.
I taste blood on my lip from biting so hard. I’m already so fucking close to coming. I don’t know how he manages to always play my body to the perfect tune.
My legs begin to shake, and I shatter apart with a cry I can’t silence. I feel the brush of his clothes as he rises behind me. He presses his long, lean body over mine and sprinkles kisses across my bare back.
“Please,” I beg.
“Please, what?” he demands.
“Fuck me,” I whimper.
My body is desperate for his even if I was in fight or flight mode during the entire dinner. There’s no denying the chemistry we have.
“Turn around.”
I face him and he eats me up with his eyes like I’m something to be both treasured and devoured.
He holds my eyes while he reaches up and unbuttons his shirt. When it hangs open, revealing his chest he pauses there, and I wonder what he’s waiting for.
“Take my clothes off and get on your knees and suck my cock.”
I almost clip out, “Yes, sir,” but I manage to swallow the words down.
I shove the fabric of his shirt off his wide shoulders, but before I can do more than that, he grabs me by the waist and pulls me in for a kiss.
“You’re mine,” he growls with pure possession.
It hits me then, that maybe part of his motivation for proposing to me now was the kiss with Spencer. He’s marking his territory, letting the world know that I’m his.
He lets me go and I stumble in my heels, but his hand is quick to latch onto my hip to steady me.
I undo his belt, then the button and zipper on his pants before I drop to my knees and yank them and his underwear down.
His cock springs free and I grip the base, giving him a solid stroke before I take him in my mouth.
“Fuck,” he drawls, head dropping back.
He reaches down, cupping the back of my head and uses it to guide my pace.
“Fuck, baby,” he croons. “You look so pretty on your knees for me.” I blush beneath his praise. “Fucking beautiful.”
Holding my head down, he waits until I gag before letting me go. His cock is wet with my saliva when I stroke him.
“Such a good girl,” he praises. “Get up.”
I must not do it fast enough for him, because the next thing I know I’m lifted onto the counter and he opens the junk drawer, fishing for a condom. He finds one and quickly rips it open and rolls it down his length.
Spreading me wide, he spears into me, and I cry out. My fingers grapple against his stomach for something to hold onto. The pace he sets is bruising, almost punishing. I take it and take it until I shatter apart around him.
“Look at you,” he croons. “You’re so fucking pretty when you come on my cock.”
He keeps up his punishing pace and comes quickly. Our bodies are slick with sweat, sticking together when he lifts me into his arms and carries me to the shower.
“This isn’t over,” he warns with delicious promise.”
I kiss him hard. Firm and possessive. “Good.”
It’s late, almost one in the morning, and the apartment glows from the infomercial playing in the background.
Sitting on the countertop, I watch Jameson make us each a bowl of ice cream.
I take my cookies ‘n cream from him and swirl my tongue around the spoon. His eyes dilate watching my tongue, even though he’s had me every which way over the last few hours.
His gray sweatpants hang low on his hips, and I have to say I can’t blame him, because I’m not sure my appetite for him is quite satiated.
“I love ice cream.”
He chuckles, leaning in to brush his lips against my cheek. “I know.” His eyes drop to the swells of my breasts. The camisole top I wear is practically see-through. “You’re going to be my wife.” He smiles, his eyes crinkling behind his glasses.
My stomach drops, my happy and light mood swirling down the drain.
I should be thrilled. And I think I’m happy?
But I also know that this marriage isn’t going to work if I’m not honest with him and I …
I can’t tell him yet. I need to sort things through in my own head first. Prepare myself for the inevitable fall out.
I’m certain he won’t be calling me his wife after I tell him.
I suppose I should’ve never said yes to the proposal, but I didn’t expect it, and with everyone there … I didn’t feel like I could say no.
“Hey, where’d you go?” He teases, his smile growing.
I don’t think he’d be smiling like that if he knew what I was thinking.
“Sorry, just a lot on my mind.”
He sets his bowl down by my hip and stands between my spread legs.
“I know this probably seems sudden and we haven’t properly talked about it, but I …
after everything I just … I want you to know I’m serious about this.
About us. We can have a long engagement if that’s what you want.
But this”—he toys with the ring on my finger— “it’s my commitment to you. That I want you forever.”
Talk about a stab to the heart.
My head feels light, like I might truly pass out.
I open and close my mouth, willing the words to come out, to just tell him.
But it’s silence instead.
I don’t know what he’s thinking or what he reads on my face, but he leans in and kisses me. “I love you,” he murmurs.
I can barely swallow past the lump in my throat. “I love you, too,” I breathe.
But I don’t think I love you enough. At least not the way you deserve.