38. Jay
Chapter thirty-eight
Jay
M y car is in the garage. At its yearly service, the mechanic discovered two tyres and all four brake pads and discs in need of replacement, plus some significant welding work required on the exhaust. It’s almost not worth doing. It would probably be cheaper just to buy a whole new car at this point. But despite it not being anything special, I’m kind of attached to my little red Astra.
Luckily—I guess—my sister had to fly out to Austin to spend a week in her company’s Texas office, and she left me with her car keys to tide me over whilst mine is off the road. Perfect timing. Her car is bigger, newer, and much fancier than mine, and while I can’t say I want one for myself, it’s been nice to enjoy the small luxuries of folding mirrors, digital radio, and working air conditioning. Even if it is only May, and even though London is still chilly and damp.
Katy and I have been on an adventure—first, to find something for Cam’s impending birthday, and then for lunch in a Mexican restaurant she read about online. The nachos and quesadillas were delicious, although apparently not a patch on the authentic stuff. Now, we’re almost home.
I have one hand on the wheel and the other teasing Katy’s dress up her thighs, ghosting my fingertips over her sensitive skin. She wears a soft smile, shifting her hips in place and sliding down in the seat next to me, dropping her knees to the sides, inviting me in. I glance into the mirror as I turn through the gates of the parking garage.
“Jay,” Katy sighs. My hand reaches the apex of her thighs, lightly rubbing over her underwear and teasing the edges of the fabric. “Jay, we can’t do—not here—it’s your sister’s car, babe…”
“I know.” My voice is a quiet rumble as I swing Ruth’s Range Rover into my designated bay. “But she’s not here.”
Katy giggles and rocks her hips up into my hand with a happy sigh. God, the sound of her laugh has my heart racing, and my stomach does a funny little flip. Is this what butterflies feels like? I open both of our seatbelts and climb over the centre console, settling over her with one knee on either side of her legs, balanced precariously on the edges of the seat. I fumble for the button on the side of her seat and slide it all the way back to give myself more room.
“These stockings are fucking sexy as hell, Princess,” I tell her, running a finger around the lace tops. She shudders at my touch, rocking her hips again. “I want to fuck you in them.”
“Go ahead,” she says, tilting her head with a coy smile. “Get me inside and you can fuck me until we both see stars.” Christ, this woman will be the death of me. And I’ll enjoy every second of it. I adjust my position to kneel in the footwell, then pull at her hips, tugging her towards me. I’m surrounded by Katy , and I’m already losing whatever semblance of restraint I ever had.
But that’s what Katy Keller does to me. It’s what she’s always done. From the moment we met in a bar, she called to me like some kind of siren song. She burst through all of my walls, all of my defences, and she burned herself right into my soul. She saw me in a way nobody else ever has. When nobody else did. And still, she stayed. She’s here . And some days, even now, I have to pinch myself.
I pat her on the thigh, closing my eyes and exhaling a shaky breath. She’s right—we can’t do this in my sister’s car. One more deep breath and I look up to meet her gaze.
“Get upstairs, Princess.”
“Yes, sir.”
Oh, fuck , I like that more than I should. A quiet moan falls from my lips, and Katy flashes me a wicked grin as we hustle out of the car and into the building. Our clothes are off before we even reach my bed. I take my time, teasing and toying with her until she climbs atop me and silences me with her mouth on my dick. After that, it’s game over, and once we’re sated and cleaned up, with fresh sheets on the bed and leftover spaghetti carbonara in the oven to warm up, we settle on the sofa. The world is always a better place with Katy in my arms.
While we wait for our food to cook, we play a few rounds of dominoes, something we’ve both been enjoying since I found the pretty pink tile set online. I never imagined the simple game would become something I love doing, but with Katy, even the mundane things are fun. After we’ve eaten and washed up our plates, we move on to Uno. The game quickly devolves into us slapping each other’s hands away from the cards and laughing until tears stream down our faces.
We’ve just about managed to compose ourselves when Katy settles in my arms, her back pressed against my chest. It’s a position we’ve found ourselves in countless times. She smiles up at me with heavy-lidded eyes, and not for the first time, I’m struck by her beauty. But this time, it feels different.
On the surface, it’s obvious to any idiot with eyes that she’s stunning—huge brown eyes, clear, creamy skin, heart-stopping smile. But even more than that, she’s beautiful on the inside. She’s warm and compassionate, empathetic almost to a fault. She’s loyal, thoughtful, generous with her time and energy, and she’s absolutely whip-smart and funny as hell, regardless of how she thinks of herself. She’s beautiful, inside and out, and fuck it, I’m crazy about her. I’m in love with Katy Keller, my little sister’s best friend, and I don’t even care who knows it.