Chapter 41
Sadie
Iled Jeremiah through the park, his arm draped over me as I supported him.
His breathing was heavy and he limped slightly, but I kept carrying his weight the best I could.
I kept a watchful eye out for Anderson as we weaved our way through the plush greenery, sticking to the winding sidewalks. We didn’t speak a word.
When we finally emerged from the park, the mid-afternoon sun beat down on us.
People looked at us with a worried curiosity.
I looked up at Jeremiah, his face bruised and caked with dried blood.
We had to get out of here. I adjusted his arm around me and pulled him toward the curb, where I frantically held out my hand.
A few cabs passed before one eased its way beside us.
I helped Jeremiah into the cab, ignoring the uneasy looks from the driver, before sliding in beside him.
I told the driver the address to the apartment.
He simply nodded and pulled away from the curb.
It was only a short ride away. One I had walked many times, but we wouldn’t make it on foot. Not in Jeremiah’s state.
He stared out the car window, a glazed look in his eyes.
I reached for his hand in his lap, holding it gently.
I let out a long, shaky breath. I couldn’t believe what had just happened.
It had been one of the scariest experiences of my life.
To see Jeremiah bloody and bruised. To see his rage. To see his rival so callous and cruel.
I shouldn’t have even given Anderson the time of day.
I should have left as soon as he sat next to me on that bench, but he was a snake.
He was an expert at spreading his poison with the lies he weaved and the smooth words he delivered.
It had almost gone too far before Jeremiah had stopped it.
I felt foolish. Guilty for causing a fight, even though I knew their history played an even bigger part in what transpired.
The cab pulled up to the apartment building, glistening bright in the sunlight. I paid the driver and helped Jeremiah out of the car. The doorman spotted us through the glass doors and quickly opened them, a worried expression on his face.
“Is Mr. Mason okay?” he asked, directing the question to me as we approached.
“He will be.” I nodded. “Please, let security know not to let an Anderson Bradley into the building.”
The doorman nodded and took off toward the front desk.
I was sure Jeremiah had already put security measures in place, but I had to be sure.
I didn’t want Anderson or anyone associated with him anywhere near us.
It was hard to know who to trust, as I led Jeremiah through the lobby toward the elevators.
Anderson was either watching me himself, or had someone do it for him.
How else had he magically shown up at the park?
The feeling left me uneasy and avoiding eye contact with anyone who looked at us.
Jeremiah remained silent, his breath just now starting to slow.
Inside the apartment, I led him to the living room, which was closest. Grunting slightly, I lifted his arm from my shoulders and eased him onto the couch.
He lay back into it, resting his hands across his stomach, one hand’s knuckles coated in blood.
His eyes were heavy as they settled on me standing over him.
I looked over his swollen face. His split lip had begun to scab over. I hated seeing him like this.
“Are you okay?” he asked, concern in his eyes as they searched mine desperately.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Am I okay? Look at you, Jeremiah.”
A small, easy smile spread across his lips. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine. Let me clean you up.”
I hurried toward the bathroom to grab some damp towels, antiseptic wipes, and bandages. When I returned, Jeremiah was pulling himself to sit up, wincing with every movement.
“Hold on, hold on,” I said, quickly rushing toward him.
I placed the first aid supplies on the coffee table before turning to him. I pulled him to a seated position and settled him against the back of the couch. This man was going to be the death of me. Getting into a fight and then trying to do everything on his own.
“Just relax,” I said firmly, narrowing my gaze.
He just nodded and leaned his head back against the couch.
I knelt on the floor beside him and took his bloody hand in mine.
I grabbed a damp towel and gently began wiping away at the blood on his knuckles.
They were swelling up quickly, and even without blood coating them, they were red from impact.
The images of him punching Anderson flooded my brain.
It had been so scary then, but now I could see he was protecting me.
Normally, that macho bullshit was a turn-off. But seeing Jeremiah fight for me was something else entirely…
Ignoring the aching feeling of want for him in that moment, I turned and grabbed the antiseptic wipes. Ripping them open, I looked up at him warily.
“This might sting,” I said.
He nodded, closing his eyes as I ran the wipe over his knuckles.
His jaw tensed slightly in pain as his breath caught.
I quickly finished and bandaged his hand.
I lifted his hand to my lips, and softly kissed each knuckle.
His blue eyes, once heavy, sharpened their gaze as he watched my mouth press against him.
I swallowed hard, squirming slightly as I rocked back on my heels.
I grabbed a towel from the coffee table and pulled myself to sit next to him on the couch.
He turned his face toward mine. I wiped his chin with the towel, removing the dried blood in his dark stubble.
Then I assessed his split lip. A deep gash ran through the center of his bottom lip. I gently dabbed at it.
“Does it hurt?” I asked.
He shook his head.
“Liar,” I said with a soft laugh.
He chuckled, its low rumble running through me.
My toes curled at the sound. I went to distract myself from the longing feeling growing inside me.
He was in no shape for what I wanted him to do to me.
I went to reach for the first aid supplies and start cleaning up, but Jeremiah’s fingers wrapped around my arm.
I looked back at him curiously and saw the same longing look in his eyes that were as clear as the blue skies outside. I went to say something, to protest the one thing we both wanted in that moment, but he lifted his bandaged hand and ran his thumb across my lips. My words left me.
His other hand reached up, and his fingers gently brushed my hair aside until they met the bare skin of my neck. I closed my eyes at his touch as he pulled me toward him. It wasn’t until we were inches from kissing that I looked at him seriously.
“But your mouth…” I whispered worriedly.
“Will be fine. Plus, there is a lot we can do that doesn’t require my mouth.”
His words skittered along my spine, making my back hitch.
His lips barely brushed against mine, making me selfishly want more, but I held myself back.
The desperation I felt for him was stifled, making it hard to hold back.
That, and the way he had pummeled that asshole for me. My body was begging for him.
I reached for his arms and eased his jacket off before undoing each button of his shirt, kissing the newly revealed skin as I went.
My mouth lingered at the waistband of his pants and I could see his erection pressing through them.
As I hovered over him, I looked up with a small smile.
I unzipped his pants and shimmied them off of him, followed by his briefs.
He let out a shaky breath as I rose to my knees.
With my eyes never leaving his, I brought my tongue to the base of his erection, slowly dragging it up his shaft.
I paused at the tip, tasting him as my tongue swirled around it.
He gripped the edge of the couch, his bandaged hand closest to me, reminding me what he did for me.
My mouth watered for him as I wrap my hand around the base.
I squeezed gently as I opened my mouth, gliding over his head.
He let out a low hum of satisfaction, making the insides of my thighs throb.
As my hand slowly moved up his length, I sucked the head, reveling in his taste. As my hand moved back down, my mouth followed. Slowly. Taking him in inch by inch, my saliva coated his shaft. Rhythmically, my hand and mouth fell into a dance as they moved up and down his cock.
“Sadie,” he whispered throatily as his hand gently found the back of my head.
I moaned at the sound of my name on his lips.
I released my grasp of his cock and ran my hands from his knees to his thighs, digging my fingertips into him desperately.
My mouth continued to move up and down, swallowing as much of his length as I could.
His fingers were tangled in my hair as he met the back of my throat.
He moaned, holding my head a little firmer.
I could feel the lace of my panties growing slick at the sound of his pleasure.
At the salty essence that sat on my tongue as it lapped against him.
The desperation in his fingers as they frantically delved deeper into my hair.
It was a pleasure-filled torture, tasting him and selfishly needing more at the same time. I whimpered as I grew wetter.
Jeremiah released my head, looking down at me, his chest rising and falling quickly.
I moved my mouth down his shaft one more time before coming up for air.
I flicked my tongue against his tip and he let out a sharp gasp.
His eyes darkened as he leaned forward suddenly.
He grabbed my sides firmly, pulling me closer to the couch.
His hands frantically searched for the hem of my dress.
His fingers found it and pulled at it, the soft fabric skimming my skin as it pulled over my head.
His eyes fell to my breasts barely contained by the black lace bra cupping them.
His hands reached around my back, finding the clasp and unhooking it with ease.
My breasts spilled before him. I was still unused to their fullness, but he couldn’t get enough of them lately.
He grazed his fingertips over them so lightly, it felt like a feather brushing against them.
I shivered at the gentleness of his touch and seeing just how close his cock was as he sat at the edge of the couch.
I bit my lip as an idea popped into my head.
I leaned forward so my bare breasts brushed against his waiting cock.
He sucked in a quiet breath as he watched me squeeze my breasts together, surrounding the hard length of him.
He easily slid along my soft skin as I slowly moved up and down.
He moaned as he watched his own private show of pleasure through his shuttered eyes.
As if needing more, he pushed his hips upward until the tip of his cock popped through above my breasts. I lowered my mouth and swirled my tongue around the tip.
“Fuck,” he whispered as his eyes watched in wonder.
Pulling my mouth away, I smiled up at him, moving my breasts down his shaft and back up again to meet my mouth. Each glide down his cock, I was desperate to taste him again. To hear him moan. I wanted to give him everything he deserved.
However he wanted it.