Chapter Fifteen
Abigail
Idon't remember eating dinner. Jacob cleaned his plate, so it must have been edible, but I merely picked at mine, distracted by thoughts of what to do next.
Jacob always made the first move. He'd tell me what he wanted, and I'd comply.
I liked it. I'd always bristled at being told what to do, until Jacob. So far, every order he'd given me had ended in mind blowing pleasure. I had no problem following his lead.
This time, I wanted to figure out how to take the lead on my own.
"Abigail?" I heard him say. I looked up, startled.
"Sorry," I said. "Just thinking."
"What about?" he asked, his eyes dark with concern.
Should I lie? I was still wearing my robe. I'd never gotten dressed after my shower.
Testing him, I ran one finger down the shawl collar of the light silk robe, trailing it over my skin to dip into my barely exposed cleavage. I tugged on the slippery fabric, exposing the inner curve of one breast.
Jacob's silver eyes heated, desire chasing away the dark. The look sent a bolt of fire between my legs. Nothing turned me on more these days than Jacob looking at me as if he wanted to devour me.
Encouraged, I hooked my finger in the silk and pulled it back until the robe slipped off my shoulder, leaving me entirely bare on one side.
"What else were you thinking about?" he asked, his voice a little hoarse.
"That's what had me so distracted," I admitted. "I couldn't decide."
I stood slowly, letting the robe drift off my shoulders to puddle in the chair, and strode to him, feeling suddenly like the predator he so often resembled.
The unfamiliar sense of power was a rush. My breasts felt swollen, full and tipped with hard nipples that demanded his attention.
Between my legs, I was already slick with need for him. I wanted Jacob. I was going to take all my confusion, all my uncertainty about him and channel it into pleasure.
I was going to do what I was here for—use our bodies to make us both feel so good we'd forget everything else.
Coming to a stop in front of him, I stared him down.
Lounging in the dining chair, his silver eyes heavy lidded with desire, his dark hair a little messy, a bemused smile on his lips, he looked like a king in his court, waiting to be entertained.
Jacob was always in command, even when he let me take charge. The thought sent a shiver through me.
"Well?" he prompted.
"You're wearing too many clothes," I said.
"What are you going to do about it?" he challenged.
What was I going to do? I wished he were still wearing his suit. I'd always wanted to strip him naked, to peel away the armor of his daily life and lay his body bare.
Somehow, his t-shirt and cutoffs intimidated me more than his custom-made suits. I knew what to do with that Jacob.
This Jacob kissed me and called me sweetheart. This Jacob was a mystery. Feeling my way, I leaned forward, enjoying the way his eyes flared wide at the shift of my breasts, and slid my hands over his shoulders.
I tugged, pulling him to his feet, before I dropped my hands to the hem of his shirt and peeled it over his head.
I got lost for a moment in the sight of his neck and the beat of his pulse beneath stubbled skin. The scent of him, so warm and close.
All that bare chest and those cut abs. I knew now that he woke at five am every day to put in a punishing hour in his gym. I liked the results.
I was taking too long. I wanted him naked. Hooking my fingers in the waist of his loose shorts, I pushed them down, delighted to find he wore nothing beneath.
I'd begun stripping him uncertain of my path, but now I knew what I wanted. Without a second thought, I dropped to my knees on the soft carpet of the dining room.
His cock was ready for me, straining and hard. I opened my mouth and licked. Heat and the taste of Jacob.
Funny what could change in a few weeks. I'd always thought of oral sex as something a woman put up with. God knows, I'd never had the favor returned before Jacob.
The idea of wanting to do this, of needing a cock in my mouth, had been inconceivable. Why? But now I knew.
When it was this cock, Jacob's cock, I did want it. I had to have it. I wanted to make him come like this, using only my mouth.
I still couldn't swallow him all the way. I made up for it, running my tongue over his silky skin until he was slick and I'd tasted every inch of the gorgeous cock before I dropped my mouth over his length and took him inside.
I'd learned what he liked. With Jacob, I couldn't help myself. I loved the way he responded to my touch.
I was addicted to every hitch in his breath, every clench of his muscles.
I sucked him hard, drawing him as deeply into the heat of my mouth as I could, sliding my hand around the base of his cock in a tight grip I knew would make him catch his breath.
He didn't disappoint me.
"Abigail," he groaned, sinking his fingers into my hair, holding me where I was.
I had him exactly where I wanted him. I hadn't been able to entice him into finishing in my mouth since the first time.
I needed that. Teasing him, I sat back, releasing most of him, licking my tongue across the head of his cock to taste the fluid beading there.
Looking up, I met his eyes as I opened my lips and took him inside once more. His silver eyes were molten with lust—that I'd expected—but there was something else.
Something demanding, proprietary.
Something that said I was his and that I was precious. I dropped my eyes, unable to hold his gaze any longer. I was supposed to be taking control, reminding us what my place was in Jacob's life.
The way he was looking at me had me more off balance than ever.
His fingers stroked at my scalp, not holding me in place, not tugging me closer. He was letting me lead, his hold on my hair a caress, not a command.
My heart squeezed in my chest. What was going on here? I tried to focus on his cock in my mouth. I'd make him come, and we'd be back on even ground.
It made sense in my head, but I was too far gone already, lost in the taste of Jacob, captured by his rough gasp when I sucked him hard, the low moan when the head of his cock hit the back of my throat.
I took every inch I could fit without choking, sucking hard, every nerve in my body on fire from the taste of him and his hands in my hair.
The tips of my hard nipples scraped his legs, and we both groaned. Every touch to my sensitized skin was too much. I was careening to overload, and he'd barely gotten his hands on me.
Between my legs, I could feel the swollen, wet heat of my pussy. I was ready for Jacob.
My mouth slid faster over Jacob's cock, my lips and tongue fucking him, tight and wet, setting a rhythm that had him unable to resist fucking me back.
A fierce joy exploded in my chest as his control slipped just a little. I needed to know I could do that to him, that I could push him until he needed me like I did him.
His fingers curled to grip my hair as he groaned, "Abigail, I'm so close."
He was giving me a chance to pull away. It wasn't going to happen. I wanted this as much as he did. I wanted him to come on my tongue. I had to taste him.
His orgasm was mine, and I'd earned every drop. My fist at the base of his cock milked him, my mouth sucking hard as his body stiffened and he came for me, his cock jerking on my tongue, his come filling my mouth.
I swallowed him down, triumph filling my chest. Whatever happened between us, this part of Jacob was mine.
We stayed like that, Jacob catching his breath, my head resting against his thigh, his thick cock still half-hard, not an inch from my mouth.
He'd just come, my tongue still coated in his taste, and I wanted to do it again.
Mine.
The thought kept running through my head. His long fingers stroked through my hair, and I reminded myself that he was not mine. I was his. Big difference.
He would never be mine.
The world flipped upside down as he bent over and picked me up, cradling my naked body to his chest. I wasn't surprised when he headed down the hall to the bedrooms. As we passed the door to the guest room, to my room, a jolt of shock hit me.
Jacob was taking me to his bedroom.
I'd been in there once, the first full day I'd lived in the penthouse, but I hadn't invaded his private space since then.
He came to me. Always.
I'd followed his lead and hadn't gone near his bedroom, sensing that he'd wanted that distance between us. As I'd drawn closer to him, I'd needed distance as much as he did. Maybe more.
I closed my eyes, hiding my face against his chest, suddenly afraid and completely unable to hide from him.
Jacob was everywhere. His arms around me, his scent pervading every breath, the sound of his heartbeat echoing in my ear. Carefully, he laid me on his bed, coming down beside me, nudging me until I was spread out in the center of his duvet like an offering.
His eyes locked on mine, and I couldn't look away. I was afraid to read him, afraid I was lying to myself when I saw tenderness there, tangled with desire.
I forced my eyes to close, catching my breath when his lips touched first one lid, then the other before taking my mouth in a deep, wet, claiming kiss.
I could hide my eyes, but I couldn't hide from that kiss. My body was out of my control.
My arms came up around Jacob, holding him to me, my mouth moving under his, matching him, falling into the kiss with my body as my heart tried to run. His body moved over mine, covering me with his heat as he settled between my legs.
His cock was hard again, thick and pressing against my slick pussy. No question that my body wanted him inside.
With a last, desperate wish, I wanted him to slam inside me, to fuck me hard, to take me with a rough detachment that would let me come with nothing more than a physical release.
Instead, a tight knot in the center of my soul began to unwind as Jacob slowly pressed that thick cock inside me, stroking me with his body, taking me with a thorough patience that left me with no doubt he knew exactly what he was doing and who he was with.
I couldn't pretend this was some anonymous fuck. That I was nothing more to him than a convenient pet. Not when his lips stroked my ear and he breathed, "Abigail, fuck, Abigail. You feel so good. Fucking made for me."
A sob hitched in my chest. It was too much. He felt too good. Too right. His cock filled me, stretched me open and made me into someone else.
This wasn't fucking. He was making love to me, his body singing to mine, stroking and touching me until I shook with it, desperate to come and wishing it would never end.
The orgasm broke over me in a wave of pleasure so sharp, I bit my tongue to keep from crying out. I was still trying to hide from him. I couldn't let him see me—he had split me open, stolen my defenses.
I'd given my heart to him, and I hadn't even known when it happened. I could pretend this was still a game, or a deal, but I knew. This agreement with Jacob was deadly serious, and I'd lost all control.
The pleasure built again, sharp and sweet. I couldn't fight it. With each steady, measured thrust in my body, Jacob claimed more of my heart.
He was stealing me, and I couldn't stop it.
My nails sank into his shoulders, my back arched, and I came again, my body claiming his in tight, fierce pulses of my pussy.
He groaned his own release into my neck, filling me with his heat, before collapsing and rolling us to the side so he didn't crush me with his bigger body.
I came back to myself slowly, his fingers stroking through my hair, soothing me, chasing away my thoughts before they could gather into coherent questions.
I felt tears drying on my face. I'd cried at the end as I'd come. I was still crying, silent tears trickling down my cheeks to land on Jacob's skin.
Why was I crying? What was going on with Jacob? With me?
Like a coward, I didn't sit up and demand he explain why he was behaving so differently. I stayed where I was, ignoring my own tears, treasuring the stroke of his fingers in my hair, the sound of his strong heartbeat beneath my cheek.
There would be time enough for explanations later. For now, I just wanted to pretend Jacob was mine, that this was real and I could have him for my own. I would deal with reality later.
I woke in the middle of the night to find myself still in Jacob's bed, my body draped over his and his arm clamped over my back, holding me to him, even in sleep.
I shouldn't be here. This was dangerous. Making love in his bed was bad enough. I couldn't start sleeping here too.
I'd tried to put us back on even ground, to remind us both what we were, and somehow, Jacob had flipped everything upside down anyway.
Now he was sleeping, and I was back in control. Holding my breath, I slid out from beneath his arm, carefully moving off the side of the bed.
My own sheets were cold and empty. I slid between them and turned on my side, gathering the spare pillow in my arms as if it could be some kind of replacement for Jacob.
Not likely.
There was no replacement for Jacob, just a chilly, empty bed and a heart that was beyond repair.
I lay there for hours, wishing for sleep, trying to fool myself into believing I was better off where I was. I drifted off as the first threads of dawn light came through the window, my cheeks again wet with tears.