Chapter 9 Jack
JACK
I stare at the scene in front of me, my jaw clenched as I take in how disheveled they both look. She’s just put her shoes back on, so why were they off? Christ, Ace even has straw in his hair. What the hell have they been doing up there together?
A sudden surge of possessiveness and jealousy washes over me, almost pulling me under with its ferocity.
I was going to give Camile the bag I have in my hand and tell her to take a shower in her room in the dorm building where she stayed last night, but when I open my mouth to speak, I find myself telling her to follow me.
“I've got you some things,” I say tersely. “Come with me and I'll show you where you can take a shower.”
I turn on my heel and smile with grim satisfaction as I hear her trotting to keep up with me. The smile dies on my face when I realize Ace is also jogging alongside me.
“Where are we going, Prez?” he asks, his face puzzled. “There’s a shower in her room.”
Christ, he really is like an overgrown puppy. I turn to him and give a look I hope will kill. I'm judging from the way his eyes widen instantly that it's hit the mark.
“Don't you have plenty to be getting on with this morning?” I say from between gritted teeth.
“I suppose so, yeah, sure.” Ace falters. “I mean, yes, of course, Prez. I'll get right to it.”
The cheeky bastard dares to throw Camile a wink before he turns and casually saunters away, back toward the barn.
He's meant to be fixing up one of the bikes in there for a new member, and so far, he's been pretty damn slow about it.
Something has clearly been distracting him, and I glance back down at the young woman beside me.
Her dark hair is so shiny, it catches the sunlight, and I have to physically hold myself back from lowering my face to her crown and inhaling the scent of her.
I reach the small house I've commandeered as mine and open the front door. I gesture for Camile to walk inside. She tosses me a quick side glance but does so without any argument.
The place is sparse, but it's clean. And that's all that really matters. There's a decent-sized kitchen, a big den of a living space where I can kick back and watch some football and get a break from the stress of running the club, plus two bedrooms upstairs and a decent sized bathroom.
I herd her into the hallway and up the stairs, then turn to the right, opening the bathroom door for her.
“This is nice,” she says with a cautious smile.
I'm not sure how much she means that. I imagine her parents’ home is very opulent. We don't tend to do things that way in the club, though. We have plenty of money, but none of us are into flashy houses. We spend our cash on bikes, cars, traveling, and good times.
“You can take a shower in here.” I thrust the bag at her, and she takes it with a puzzled expression on her face.
“Did I do something wrong?”
“Be careful of Ace. He's a real charmer, and he'll be in your panties before you know it.”
Her mouth presses into a tight line and she regards me with cool brown eyes. “I can assure you that he was nowhere near my panties.”
With an almost haughty flick of her hair, she turns around and starts to rummage around inside the bag.
I can't help the smile that spreads across my face.
I shouldn't be as relieved as I am about the fact that nothing happened between them, but it’s like someone released the clamp from around my heart. It can finally beat again.
I know she can't ever be mine; I'm her best friend's father. And I'm not a good bet for any kind of relationship. It doesn’t even feel like it’s been that long since I lost Vani’s mother, and I was all kinds of fucked up from the way she died and the revelations that came afterward.
Yet I still can't seem to stop myself being jealous of any other man who looks Camile’s way or touches her.
She takes out the shampoo and conditioner I managed to scrounge from one of the ol’ ladies, plus the shower gel, toothbrush and paste, and moisturizer, alongside some items of clothing. She sets them all down.
“Thanks, this is all great,” she says. Then she frowns down at the bandages still around her arms. “Could you help me with these? They can probably come off now, and I don’t want to get them wet.”
I draw in a breath through my nose at the thought of being so close to her in such a confined space but move in closer.
She holds out both arms, and I take the right one in my hands.
Gently, I pick at the white tape holding the bandage in place, and then slowly unwind it from her skin.
She winces a little, her cute nose wrinkling.
“You okay? I can stop.”
“No, it’s fine.”
I do the same with the other arm until her skin is free from the material. There are a few dark blood spots on the gauze underneath, but the wounds look clean and they’re not bleeding.
She gives a brave smile. “See, they looked worse than they were. Just some grazes, really.”
I stand there, holding her arms in my big hands, her skin warming my palms, and it takes every ounce of strength not to pull her closer and wrap myself around her body. Instead, I drop my hold and step back, clearing my throat.
“Thanks,” she says. “I’ll feel a lot better after a bath.”
“A bath?” My brow pulls down.
She blinks at me. “Oh, that’s okay, isn’t it? I’m super achy from what happened last night. I thought the hot water might help.” She hurriedly rushes on. “But a shower is fine, too, if you need me to be quick.”
The image of her lounging naked in the bath, her hair piled on top of her head, makes me feel the need to adjust myself. Instead, I give her a brusque nod.
“A bath is fine,” I say and turn and walk out of the room before I lose my fucking mind.
Pulling the bathroom door shut behind me, I head to my office, which is also the second bedroom, and sit heavily at my desk, my head in my hands.
There’s no way I can act on these feelings. In fact, I should push her away and right into Ace’s arms. Instead of being jealous, I should be goddamn grateful that he’s solving a problem for me.
The sound of running water rumbles from the other room, and the pipes click, the boiler humming to life.
This place is not bad, but it’s cheaply built, and the walls are like paper, which means you can hear every sound.
As the bath runs, she hums to herself but then for a while is quiet, until gargling makes me think she must have brushed her teeth.
It’s not long until she’s stepping into the bath, and God help me, but I picture it.
Those smooth curves, and her long hair, piled on her head, or is it floating in the water behind her?
Making her look like a mermaid. On autopilot, I leave my desk and walk right up to the wall adjoining the bathroom.
There’s nothing but quiet for a bit, and I slide down the wall. I sit with my head against it and close my eyes, imagining I can somehow communicate with her this way. Feel closer to her or something crazy.
There’s a gasped inhale of breath, and I open my eyes. Is she okay?
The muffled moan that follows has my dick aching. That’s the unmistakable sound of a woman’s pleasure.
Not caring any longer about how fucked up any of this is, or the fact that I busted my nut thinking about her last night, I stand and turn to face the wall. Making quick work of my zipper, I flatten one hand against the wall. I turn my head to the side and place my left ear flush to the drywall.
My free hand takes hold of my dick.
“Hhhmm.”
There it comes again. For a moment, anger hits me. Is she trying to taunt me? But no, I tell myself, she’s being far too quiet for that. She can’t know these walls are basically useless, paper-thin atrocities.
She thinks she has privacy.
I squeeze myself, hard enough to hurt a little, like I’m punishing myself for doing this, and then use my thumb to roll at the barbell piercing through the end of my cock.
I grit my teeth, holding back a moan of my own.
Precum leaks from the slit, and I gather it up and use it to lubricate the head.
From the other side of the wall comes splashing and I wonder if she’s finger fucking herself or just rubbing her pretty little clit.
Fuck me. The thought sends my hand running up and down my length, and I clamp my eyes shut, wishing this wall didn’t exist so we were doing this together.
A million images of me filling her flick through my mind, stretching her and using her.
Out of nowhere, an image takes front and center, not of me, but of Ace fucking her.
She’s spread wide open and groaning as she struggles to take him, but the entire time her gaze is locked on me.
I’m the one she looks to, even while Ace fucks her.
My fist works my length faster, my grip firm as tingles race up my spine, and my balls ache with the need to come for this woman again, in such a short time. I’m leaking precum and lubing my way as I jerk myself fast and rough.
From inside the bathroom, her soft pants and muffled moans reach a crescendo. I tip right over that edge with her, and as my thighs flex and relax, I bite down on my arm to stifle my yell.
My hips jerk, and I paint the teal blue wall in rope after rope of white. Fuck. Me.
I’ve just come for the second time in the last twenty-four hours with nothing more than my own hand and the fantasy of a tight-bodied woman, young enough to be my daughter, on my mind. Worse, I pictured one of my men fucking her, and that’s… different, for me, anyway.
When I had told Camile at Vani’s party that I would tear her apart, I’d meant it as a warning, but it’s given me more orgasms since than anything else. I’m a grown-ass man, and here I am acting like a horny fucking teenager.
I don’t even watch much porn anymore because I only want to see Camile’s naked body.
I want to see her pussy stretch to take a big cock, but if I do that, I risk losing my daughter.
For a moment, I once more imagine Ace taking her while I watch.
That’s not really my thing. I’ve never been all that into sharing, but maybe…
if it meant I got to see Camile come undone, see her perfect body splayed open and get to stroke myself while all her secret places were on display for me, could I do it then?
It would mean Vani couldn’t be pissed at me. I wouldn’t have touched her friend. Technically.
Putting myself away and zipping up, I stare at the ruined wall in disgust at myself.
This girl has made me lose my mind. I need to get her out of here.
First thing tomorrow morning, whether we have any information about Ledger or not, she’s gone.
She can be Dean Rossi’s issue.