25. ELLY
25
ELLY
I definitely have demons urging me to the dark side because I’m not wearing any underwear. Nothing . Just a knee-length maroon jersey dress that hugs my breasts and flares from the waist, paired with my trusty cowboy boots and sheepskin coat.
There’s a war going on inside me, because as much as I don’t think this thing with Jack should go any further than it already has, I prepared for tonight as though it definitely will and I can’t help wondering if he has too.
“El, the car’s outside,” Jack yells from downstairs.
I smooth down the dress, press a hand to my chaotic curls in a vain effort to tame them, and sling my handbag over my shoulder. “Coming.”
The sight of Jack standing at the bottom of the stairs in chinos and a long navy overcoat, collar popped, has my heart thumping. It’s unnerving how much this feels like a real date, even though I know it’s not.
“You look…” A little divot forms between his brows. “You look like…” He gives up and ruffles his hair with one hand.
“Very eloquent,” I tease, hopping down off the bottom step.
Jack snorts a little and averts his gaze, but I get the impression it’s directed at himself rather than me. He grabs his keys and phone from the hall table. “This is business. It doesn’t matter how you look.” A dark sensation plunges through me, but just as I worry it’s going to sink my mood entirely and possibly ruin the evening, he adds, “but you look fantastic. I’d fuck you in a heartbeat.”
“I hope you don’t say that at your other business meetings,” I say, unable to contain the smile that’s spreading over my face as I skip to catch up to him.
“Only when I really have to push a deal over the line.” I let out a laugh, and he holds his hand out to me. “Come on. The driver’s waiting.”
I put my hand in his and static sparks, zinging up my arm and somehow landing right between my legs, where my bare pussy suddenly feels incredibly vulnerable.
Damn . I should’ve worn underwear because we’re only five minutes into the evening and already my pussy is getting ideas of her own, and I’m really not sure I have the willpower to stop her. Or even want to…
Dinner is delicious, and we share more wine than we ought to. I laugh, a lot. Hanging out with Jack feels so good. Fun. A lot of fun.
This is the best date I’ve had in years.
“You’ve got to record all the songs. Studio quality.” He takes a sip from his wineglass. “Tell me you’ve done that?”
I shake my head, and Jack lets out a low groan. “All this fucking talent…What’s the deal with that?”
“What?”
“Hiding.”
I cringe. Everything in me wants to shrink at the discomfort of being made to face my own failings, and I fidget uneasily to reduce the sensation. “I’m not hiding.”
He leans towards me across the table, pinning me with a serious look. “You’re this incredibly confident, sexy woman. And yet…” He spreads his hands like he has no idea how to finish the sentence. “You’re the whole package. And somewhere along the line, you’ve forgotten it.” A fierce blush rages over my skin, and I twist a ringlet of hair around my finger. “It’s a good thing I’m here to remind you.”
His features settle into the familiar cocky expression, and a flare of heat bursts in my chest like he lit a fire under my ribs. I’m suddenly so hot, I feel sweaty, and my thoughts run wild. This is business. Business.
This man is confusing me.
I’m not wearing any underwear.
I cross my legs, trying to ignore the slickness gathering between my thighs. This is a disaster.
“We’ll film you. You gotta put the songs out. TikTok, Instagram. Spotify. Whatever the hell people are using these days.” He strokes his chin. “Actually, you should probably just pick one place to focus and grow that. Otherwise it’ll be overwhelming.”
I nod like I’m listening, but really I’m just staring at him. At his gorgeous face, that square jaw… those fucking eyelashes.
“Sound good?” he queries.
I nod frantically, although I’m not even sure what he just said. Something about social media. I’m not ready for that shit. My whole body revolts when I even think about it, so Jack might as well be talking to a brick wall.
“Great.” He signals for the bill, and a few minutes later we’re out on the street. It’s cold, our breaths fogging like smoke. I pull my coat around me, wishing I’d put on tights. My legs are freezing.
“Home?” I ask.
Jack shakes his head. “There’s one more thing we have to do before we go back.” He grabs my hand and tugs me along the darkened Mayfair street.
“Where are we going?”
“Just around here,” he says, his long strides clipping along the pavement, me tottering behind him.
He stops outside a large church that’s nestled between terraced buildings. Letting go of my hand, he pushes open the huge wooden door. “Come on,” he says, tipping his head inside.
I hesitate. “Are we praying?”
“No.” He shrugs one shoulder. “You can if you want to. But I know what I’m worshipping.” He looks me up and down deliberately, and my heart stutters. “That’s a killer dress, by the way. Did I mention that?”
“You did not. You said it didn’t matter what I looked like.”
“And that I’d fuck you in a heartbeat.” He grins. “Get inside. It’s cold. Your nipples look freezing.”
So he has noticed my lack of underwear. And he’s right. They’re hard as bullets, but I’m not sure it’s on account of the temperature. “Such a gentleman.”
“Always.”
I shake my head at him as I pass into the church. It’s empty, but there are dim wall lights glowing and displays of battery-operated candles in alcoves, and the air smells of wax polish and some kind of incense. Frankincense, perhaps.
“We shouldn’t be in here,” I whisper.
“They leave the door open for a reason.”
I bite back the urge to tell him that I’m pretty sure his reason isn’t the same as that of the church, but he snakes an arm around my shoulders and whisks me up towards the front, taking a sharp right turn before the altar.
He pushes through a side door and leads me down another corridor. There’s a warren of passages back here, and we pass down several of them before Jack stops in front of a door, pulling a key from his pocket.
What the hell? “Don’t tell me you’re moonlighting as a priest?”
He slides the key in and unlocks the door. “No. But I know the owner.”
“God?”
His laugh is dark and ripe, and far too sensuous for a church. The two of us here, so close together in the semi-darkness, has sinful thoughts racing through my mind. Jack’s scent fills the air, and my hormones begin to buzz. That naughty part of me— the slutty part —wants him to stop what he’s doing and take me right here, against the wall.
He pushes the door open and flicks a light switch, turning on more of those dim wall lights that lit the church. He ushers me inside, locking the door behind us. Before me is a large hall full of velvet upholstered chairs set out in rows, and the walls are painted a tasteful gold, faux marble pilasters lining the room. We’ve entered from the side, and at one end there’s a large door that looks like the main entrance. At the back, there’s a raised stage with a grand piano.
I stare for a moment, taking it all in, and it hits me like an electric shock when I realise where we are: Stanmore Hall, one of the most famous classical music performance venues in London.
“Is this part of the church?” I ask in awe.
“No. I mean, maybe it was once, but not anymore. The regular entrance is locked tonight.” Jack points over at the main door, which I assume must open out onto the street.
Locked? I turn to him. “Hold on. Isn’t Andrei Orlov supposed to be playing here?” The information filters through my mind, dredged up from my subconscious. The world famous concert pianist was definitely scheduled to play this week. “Yes, he is. Kate and Nico were talking about coming to see him. This is a sold out show. Where is everyone?”
Jack slides a hand into his pocket, his eyes bright. “It is sold out. I bought every ticket.”
Shocked laughter explodes from me. “What? How? You only asked me out this morning. Jesus. All those people. Andrei…”
“Don’t worry. Everyone was well compensated for their tickets. And Andrei is fine; he’s giving Kate and Nico a private performance instead, and I’d far rather watch you than a classical pianist. So, tonight, the stage is yours.”
My legs feel weak. “Stanmore hall,” I whisper. “You’re crazy.”
“You have to stop calling me crazy. I’ll develop a complex.”
I shake my head, unable to process what he’s done. He is crazy . He must be to do this for me. “I can’t believe this. I can’t play here, I can’t…”
“Of course you can. Get up there,” he says, nodding at the stage. “You can play the piano, can’t you?”
“Yes. But…” I’m so overwhelmed that Jack would even think to do something like this, that he’d think I was worthy of performing in a space like this, that I struggle to find the words. Finally, I settle on, “I’m not wearing my slippers.”
“I know.” His seductive tone trickles over my skin like melted butter, then he switches it off, turning matter-of-fact. “But performing is part of who you are, and I like being around you, so I’ll have to get used to you being irresistible when you do.” My breath stutters, but Jack barely pauses. “This is practice. Performing somewhere different.”
“I’ve performed in other places.”
“Oh, yeah? When? And karaoke doesn’t count.”
I screw up my face, hating that he’s pushing me on this. It’s been a long time since I performed anywhere other than my bedroom or the Marchmont. To rocket from there to here seems like a dream come true, but I steel myself to do as he’s asking. “Fine.”
I stride through the rows of chairs and trot up the short flight of steps to the stage. Jack follows me, meandering slowly through the rows as I remove my coat, drop it to the floor and prop my handbag on top before I take my seat at the grand piano. I never, ever , thought I’d perform somewhere like this. I shouldn’t be here .
Jack settles into a chair in the front row and takes his phone from his coat pocket, deliberately pointing it at me.
“Are you filming?” I ask.
“Yes. We need the footage for those videos you’ll be making.”
I dismiss his comment with a sideways glance and begin to play a few bars of I Vow to Thee My Country , which seems appropriate seeing as we came through a church.
“Nope,” Jack calls.
I lift my fingers from the keys. “Why not?”
“I want to hear your songs. Not a bloody hymn. Anyone can play those.”
Fine . I shuffle on the stool, getting more comfortable as I decide which of my songs to play.
As I strike the opening chords, I sense the shift in the room. I’ve chosen one of my more melancholic songs, about heartbreak and loneliness, and the notes prickle over me, raising the tiny hairs on my arms. The acoustics in here are phenomenal and I play right through to the end, lost in the song, the lyrics, allowing the pain of the words to flow through my voice.
I get so caught up that I completely forget that Jack is watching me until he starts slowly applauding, each booming clap making the air tremble.
He gets up from his seat and removes his coat, throwing it over the chair next to him before he mounts the steps and comes to stand closer to me. My body strains at his approach, as if a mere touch from him would reinforce the idea that I’ve done something good here.
“Play something else,” he says as he straddles the piano stool next to me. It’s a duet stool, so we both fit, but only just. In this position, his thigh muscles stretch against his trousers. He’s huge. I’m pretty sure I can see his dick through the fabric.
I avert my gaze, my body turning rigid at his sudden proximity. Why is it that with Jack, everything feels like foreplay?
Because it is , comes the answer.
He brushes some of my hair away from my face, tucking it behind my ear. Such a tender gesture, and somehow possessive… as though he has rights over my body. And I have absolutely no objection.
I begin a second song, but the rhythmic rise and fall of Jack’s chest in my periphery is soaking up nearly all my attention. His knee grazes my thigh, and I gulp, missing my cue. I can’t play like this.
I stop, and for a moment neither of us speaks, and I let my hands fall into my lap. The static crackling between us is so intense, I’m pretty sure we could power half of London with it.
“El?”
I swallow, keeping my gaze on the piano keys. “Yes?”
“I think you’re wonderful.”
His words nestle right inside my chest, where they swell and bloom like budding flowers. “Please…” I plead, not knowing whether I’m asking him to stop or keep going.
His hand comes to my cheek, and with gentle pressure, he turns me to look at him. “Please what?”
My breathing turns shallow and rapid. “I can’t…”
“Why not?” he purrs. “We’d be so good together. You know we would. Here, turn around.” He ushers my body into position, and I have to lift a leg to straddle the piano stool opposite him.
He rests a hand on one of my thighs. I’m not wearing any underwear. He might be making the moves, but I plotted for a situation exactly like this to arise, and now, under Jack’s darkened gaze, wetness gathers between my legs.
As though he knows, he teases at the fabric of my dress, easing it up until his hand rests on my bare thigh. “Can I see?”
“See what?” My voice is so faint I can barely hear the words myself.
“You know exactly what,” he rasps as his hand slides higher, stopping only a few inches from the top of my thigh. “Your bare cunt.” I moan, and he huffs the slightest of laughs. “Did you think I didn’t know?”
My blood sizzles beneath my skin, but I can’t summon words to respond. Just a little higher. He needs to shift his hand a little higher…
“Can I?” he asks again, and this time I nod, remembering that both doors are locked. It’s just us in here . Safe .
His hand slides up my dress, blistering heat rising across my skin, and my hips lift off the stool a little, trying to meet his touch.
His fingertips tickle as he slows his approach to the apex of my thighs, stretching each second out until I don’t think I can stand it any longer.
Touch me.
And then his fingers are over my clit, and all the blood in my body drains to that one point, my pulse beating hard and heavy under his hand. He pushes lower, seeking out my wetness with his thumb. He closes his eyes as he pushes inside me, finding me soaked.
“Oh, shit,” he mutters. “You want this so bad.” My cheeks heat at being called out, but Jack trails his thumb from my entrance, through my lips, and over my clit, rubbing it in circles, making me whimper and forget my embarrassment. “Why would you fight this?” The low whisper of his voice stokes my arousal. I’m so turned on, I can’t think.
“I don’t know,” I stammer, my hips rising again to give him more space. “I don’t—”
“Let me give you what you want, El.”
I swallow, nod. “Yes, yes… please…”
Jack removes his hand and flips up the loose skirt of my dress, leaving me entirely bare and exposed. His hooded gaze is fixed between my legs, and to see him so aroused has coils of desire snaking through me.
“I need to fucking see this,” he growls, and before I know it, he slams the lid of the piano and lifts me onto it, using his hands to spread my thighs and positioning himself between them. “We are going to have so much fucking fun,” he says under his breath, keeping his gaze anchored between my legs as if he’s talking to my pussy and not to me. Then his gaze flicks up to where I’m propped on my elbows, staring down at him. “Tell me you want this. I need you to say it. I need to hear it.”
“I want this.”
“What do you want?”
“Everything. All of it.”
There’s a glimmer of satisfaction in his gaze as he lowers to kiss my thigh, licking his way up. But just as he reaches the place I want him, he stops. “Take off the dress.”
I glance around the room, and even though there’s no one here, I can't help worrying.
Recognising my fear, Jack’s expression softens. “The doors are locked. No one can get in.”
“Okay,” I murmur, trusting him implicitly. We’re safe.
His gaze heats. “I want you naked. Spread out right here.” He knocks a knuckle on the piano. “Just for me.”
“This is a Steinway,” I whisper. “We can’t.”
Jack emits a low rumble of laughter. “Anything happens to the piano, I’ll replace it.” So typical . “Relax.”
He sweeps his hands up my thighs and tugs the dress over my head, and suddenly all my fear is forgotten and I’m shuffling out of the dress, almost as eager to remove it as he is.
I throw it to the floor and rest back on the piano, entirely naked except for the cowboy boots. This is it. This is what I’ve been waiting for . Jack stands back and surveys me. He blinks, eyebrows shooting upwards like he can’t believe his eyes. “This is… you are…”
I smile, a sense of power surging through me at having rendered him speechless.
“I want to take a photo of you like this.” His voice is so full of awe that he sounds dizzy with it, making a rush of arousal blast from my hips to my extremities. The idea of letting him do something so reckless has me almost shaking with desire. With need. I feel so wanted right now that the sensation is too much for my body to contain. It makes me lightheaded.
“Do it,” I whisper.
Jack’s eyes widen. “Really?”
I nod, my body little more than a quivering mess of needy desire as Jack takes his phone from his pocket. Fuck, this is dangerous. He pushes my legs apart a little more, and I feel the slickness between them increase as he takes a picture. He comes in close, then steps back to get all of me in the frame, taking more photos as he moves around the piano. I must look absolutely wanton, and I fucking love it. This is me reclaiming my sexuality . Each time his phone makes the little shuttering noise a jerk of arousal sparks at my clit.
“Fucking hell,” he mutters as he finally puts the phone back in his pocket. He settles himself between my legs and places a hand on each thigh. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he purrs, and his eyes darken, smouldering with a deadly heat before he dives between my legs.
He slides his hands under my bum, tilting my hips up. His tongue swipes eagerly from my arse all the way up to my clit, and energy sizzles through me. Oh, my God, Jack Lansen is eating me out . The thought makes my libido spike and my head falls back on a moan, collapsing against the piano as he devours me, his tongue dipping between my folds and spearing into my entrance, sucking and licking, sending need spiralling through my body faster than he can satisfy it, driving me to a frenzy that makes my legs spasm and my toes curl.
As though he knows I need more, he hauls me deeper into his mouth, sliding me closer to him, curling two fingers into me, creating pressure inside whilst working ravenously with his tongue on the outside, playing my body like a musical instrument. It feels incredible. So fucking worth it. Worth every game and more because this man knows exactly what he’s doing.
“Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Don’t ever… oh —” The warning tingle of an orgasm grows low in my hips, expanding and pulsing. I rock into his chin, forcing myself against him harder, deeper, driving my clit into his mouth as his fingers pump inside me.
“You taste… so fucking sweet…” The low growl of his words vibrates against me, sending frissons of pleasure into my hips.
“Oh… oh…” I moan and grab his hair, forcing his face into me, riding him, shifting to get the pressure just right… working myself against him. Pleasure rises and falls, flows and ebbs with each shift of my body, and I chase it desperately. Jack eats me more vigorously, bringing me right to the edge of my orgasm.
My thighs tense, clamping around his ears, and he hums against me, not letting up as he continues to lick and suck.
“I’m close,” I whine, my voice thin and desperate. “So close—”
He pulls away, and I squeal his name. “Jack!”
“Wait. Wait for me,” he says, and I push up to see him fumbling at his trousers, undoing them.
We’re going to have sex? Here?
My hips rise off the piano, straining towards him. I’m so eager for him... to feel him inside me. I’ve dreamed of this moment, brought myself off to this moment, and now that it’s really happening, it can’t come fast enough. Hurry up.
He fishes a condom from his pocket and at least four more fall to the floor.
“How many people were you planning on fucking tonight?” I ask, attempting to mock him, but instead sounding hopelessly breathless.
He kisses me roughly, each swipe of his tongue slaking my desire, before he pulls away to tear the packet open with his teeth. “Just you.” He doesn’t look at me as he releases his dick from his boxers. God, it’s beautiful. The slit on the flared tip is practically gaping, and there’s pre-cum glistening in the hole.
“How many times?” I say with amazement, and as his gaze locks onto mine, a lopsided grin haunts his lips.
“As many times as you’ll let me.” He rolls the condom on and shuffles towards me, his trousers still around his ankles.
He drags me closer to him, my legs dangling off the piano, and slides the tip of his dick up and down my slit, making me ache with need.
Seeing him there, standing between my legs, watching the way his dick moves over me with rapt admiration, only makes it worse. I’ve never needed to be filled so badly. I could scream.
“You are so fucking wet,” he rasps, nudging his tip inside me. I wince as he slowly sinks deeper, stretching me. He's so big. “All right?” he queries.
“Uh-huh. I’m okay,” I breathe.
“Can you take a little more?”
God, yes . “Please,” I beg.
His voice is rough with desire when he asks, “Can you take it all?”
The question sets me alight. If he doesn’t fuck me properly, I’ll combust. “Mmm,” I moan.
He lets out an equally lusty groan as he plunges in, and the burn of the stretch shifts to a fullness that completes me, sating that aching, driving need as Jack fuses our hips.
Oh, my God. He’s inside me. I want to savour this moment forever.
Like the same thought has occurred to him, he stays there, fully within me, without moving. Just staring at me.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” I whisper.
“I can,” he says, hauling me up towards him. I wrap my arms around his neck as our mouths meet in a desperate collison, his tongue slipping between my lips and feeling like velvet as it strokes mine. My hands find his nape and my fingers weave into his thick hair. I deepen the kiss, our tongues tangling like dancers who won't let go.
When we separate, he’s breathing hard. His pupils are dark and dilated, the evidence of his arousal all over his face. “You’re more wonderful than I ever imagined,” he pants, his voice all awe.
“You… you…” I begin, meaning to tell him I feel the same, but words completely escape me as his hands find my hips, and he begins to pump into me, his handsome face a vision of concentration. I grind against him, meeting each of his thrusts with my own. To be handled like this, entirely naked apart from my boots, with Jack almost fully clothed, only heightens the experience. I’m totally vulnerable to him and I love it. Every fucking second of being spread out for him, seeing him eat me up with his eyes, and now thrusting into me with such focus, as though there’s nowhere else he’d rather be… it’s perfect.
“Take this off,” I murmur, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, and once I’ve undone a couple he tugs the whole thing over his head and throws it to the floor, kissing me again. My hands slide over his shoulders, down his chest, where his muscles are firm beneath the warmth of his skin. I’m touching him everywhere, eager to press as much of my body against his as possible.
He shifts a thumb over my clit, which is swollen and ready to explode at the slightest touch. Shocks of pleasure zing from that point, and he continues to thrust, making my pussy pulse with an impending climax way before I’m ready. I mewl helplessly, digging my nails into his skin. “Oh, oh, Jack—”
“Come for me,” he rasps, and my orgasm detonates, harder than ever before, bursting through me like a shower of glitter, tingling and sparkling in every cell. I tip my head back and scream his name up into the domed roof of the concert hall. “Jack, Jack, Jack…” The sound reverberates, carried by the acoustics, filling every corner of the hall and ringing in my ears. “I’m yours. Take me, please .” And he does, pumping into me through the rise and fall of my orgasm, stringing out every last drop of pleasure my body has to give, until his thrusts grow erratic and his dick pulses inside me.
“Fuuuuck,” he groans, and every tendon in his neck is visible as the tension of his orgasm tears through him.
Each jerk of his cock feels like a secret I’ve earned, and as our breathing returns to normal, hormones flood my body, opening me up to the feelings I’m trying to hold at bay. I stave them off, shutting the door, locking them up. I will not fall for this man.
He sinks against me, and I hold him close, his face pressed against my bare breasts. He teases my nipple with his fingers and sparks of ecstasy ricochet through my boneless body. His fingers still, but I don’t let go of him. We stay like that for what feels like a long time, but is probably no longer than a minute. We’re so close… so intimate . More so, even, than what we’ve just done.
“Don’t freak out on me,” he whispers.
“Huh?”
“Don’t cry. I don’t think I could handle it right now.”
I push him off my chest. “I’m not crying.”
He nods. “Great. Because this is supposed to be fun.”
“It was. It was…” I trail off, not knowing what it was, exactly.
Inside me, his cock softens and he pulls out. I lie back on the piano, breathing deeply as he ties up the condom, wraps it in a tissue from his pocket, and throws it in the bin. He fixes his trousers, picks up his shirt and puts it on, making quick work of the buttons. “It was amazing. You’re amazing,” he says, pulling me off the piano so I’m standing. His gaze rakes over me and I burn up beneath it. “This is what you should wear at home. Just the boots. Unbelievable.” His smile widens. “Can I kiss you?”
I splutter a laugh. “You just fucked me like a pornstar, but now you’re asking permission for a kiss?”
He scrapes a hand through his hair, looking awkward for the briefest of moments before he says, “I don’t want to take anything you don’t want to give.”
Seeing the way he’s looking at me, as though he’d do anything to make me happy, but isn’t quite comfortable with the desire to do so, has my heart expanding and my answer spilling out before I can stop it. “I want to give you everything. All of it. It’s yours.”
When I spoke them earlier, the words could have been passed off as meaningless utterances, released in the throes of passion. The verbal equivalent of ejaculation. A sexual sweet nothing. But now, in the aftermath, they feel heavier, and the meaning they convey is much more than I’d intended to share.
Jack’s mouth opens a little, his eyes widening as he stares at me for an extended beat.
Was it too much? Too soon?
I thought what I was feeling was mutual, but maybe I was wrong. I’m immediately uncomfortable. I glance around for my dress and grab it from the floor, hauling it over my head like it’ll protect me from whatever the fuck is going on between me and Jack right now. If he’s going to let me down easy, tell me this can only ever be casual, I’d rather not hear it. I’d prefer to pretend I never said anything.
He steps towards me, his blue eyes serious for once. “Can you stop faffing?”
I give him the barest of glances as I tug at the sleeves of my dress, the hem, as if the damn thing won’t sit right, even though it’s perfectly comfortable. “I’m not faffing. I’m getting dressed.”
He comes to stand beside me. “Okay. Stop that then.”
I roll my eyes, forcing a lightness into my tone despite the fact that my heart is rioting and a black cloud of something hovers just out of sight. “You just want me to stay naked.”
“I’d love that.” Grabbing my hand, he tugs on it until I face him. “But not right now.” He exhales heavily, waiting until he has my full attention before he speaks. “I want to give you everything too, El.”
My next breath doesn’t come easily. We’re treading uncharted ground, and nervous tension has me vomiting my thoughts. “Really? Because this was supposed to be business. Tonight was supposed to be dinner and my career and we turned it into sex on a piano, and it feels really intense and you keep mentioning ‘fun’ as though anything other than ‘fun’ might kill you. And that’s okay. I get it. You want to have fun. You want to play. Nothing is serious. Nothing is—”
“El, stop.” I halt at his command, anxiety winding through me as I await whatever he’s about to decree. “I have the most fun with you. More than I’ve ever had with anyone.” One side of his mouth tilts into a smile. “I’d be happy to have fun with only you.”
My chest is tight, my heart strangled off its beat. Does he mean what I think he does? I don’t want to make assumptions. I can’t take that risk. He’s still talking in terms of ‘fun’, after all. I narrow my eyes at him. “What are you saying?”
He breaks into a smile. “What are you saying?”
We stare at one another for a few long moments, neither one of us ready to break. Finally, I give in. “I don’t know.” I shake my head, twisting my fingers into my curls. “Fuck, I don’t know,” I say, half-laughing, half-dying inside.
He arches a brow, a smile still teasing his lips. “You do know…”
“All right.” I heave an enormous breath, filling my lungs until they’re fit to burst. “ I’m not prepared to do this fuck-buddy thing. Not with you. I’m not going to torment myself over it. I’m not going to have amazing sex with you and then pretend it’s just fun and that I’m not moved by—”
“You like me, huh?” His eyes sparkle. He’s loving this. Bastard .
I’m hot; constricted. Exposed . I shrug, trying to backtrack from my emotional explosion. “Not that much. A bit. I could take you or leave—”
His kiss cuts me off, tongue sliding into my mouth, and the passion in it conveys more than any words. I feel everything reciprocated a thousand times over.
By the time he pulls away, I’m spinning with want. I can barely focus when he flashes a smile and whispers, “It’s my massive dick, isn’t it?”
I thwack a playful hand against his pecs, and he chuckles, pulling me tight against him. I relax in his embrace, my body softening against his strength.
He rests his chin on the crown of my head, speaking hushed words against it. All hint of joking vanished from his voice. “You know what?”
“What?” I whisper, hope fluttering in my veins.
“I really like you too.”
My heart leaps. “You do?”
“Yup.”
I nuzzle against him, relishing the relief that’s soaking my soul. “Can it just be us? No one else? No other women?” He hmms , and the sound vibrates through me. I ease my head out from under his chin and look up at him. “You’re thinking about making a joke about threesomes, aren’t you?”
He laughs, loud, which is all the confirmation I need to know it’s exactly what went through his mind.
When his laughter fades, he looks at me seriously. “You want to be exclusive?” I hold back my nod for a second or two, but when I release it, something like satisfaction flickers across his face. “What makes you think we weren’t before?”
“I need you to be explicit.”
He squeezes me tighter. “Okay.” He pauses, and for every millisecond of the hiatus, my heart thumps at triple speed. “I haven’t thought about anyone else since the night you sang for me back in the flat. I don’t want to be with anyone else. I only want you. Exclusively. No games. No fucking about. I’m pretty obsessed with you already, and if you say no, then I’ll sit up in my bedroom and wank to all the pictures I took of you tonight until the day I die.”
“Oh, God,” I wail, the idea of Jack masturbating over the photos distracting me from everything else he said.
“Too much?” Laughter ripples through his tone.
“No.”
“Good. Because I’m not done. If I’m exclusive, you’re exclusive. If you so much as look at another guy, I’ll kill him.”
My eyes flutter shut briefly. “I won’t be looking anywhere else.”
“Great. Because I want you all to myself. Every last inch of you. You’re mine.” He cups my arse and squeezes, and I let out a tiny yelp. “No threesomes. Got it?”
My face splits in a smile. “Yes.”
“Then let’s go home and fuck until dawn. Sound good?”
“Sounds fucking brilliant.”
When I wake the following morning, wrapped up in Jack’s luxurious sheets, he’s lying beside me, watching me.
“Hey there,” he says, his voice low, and his face a vision of happiness.
In the beam of his admiration, a pleasant, tingling warmth fills my body. I’ve never felt like this with anyone before. It’s as if there is no other place in the world I fit as well as I do here, in Jack Lansen’s bed. He strokes a fingertip over my shoulder and down my arm, and the sensation only increases.
“You’ve brushed your teeth,” I whisper. “You’re all minty fresh.”
“Obviously.” He kisses me again.
“But I’m not,” I say, pulling away.
“I don’t give a fuck. Come here.” He pulls me against him, and he’s hard and warm and fuck me, I think I love him.
But before I get carried away, there’s a matter that does need attention. “About those photos…”
He smiles, and I feel it against my mouth. “You want to see how hot you are?” he mumbles against my lips.
He reaches for his phone on the bedside table, opens the screen and orients it so we can both see the images as he scrolls. Woah . They’re explicit. Some of them are porn-worthy, but others are tasteful. Some of them are beautiful. The light, the piano, my skin, my hair, my boots.
“We should probably delete these,” I tell him, even as arousal trickles through me, seeing myself as Jack must have seen me. I flick to the next one, which is a photo he took between my legs. “We should definitely delete them.”
“Yeah. Sure,” Jack says, but his focus is on the photos, as if he wants to soak them up before he agrees to get rid of them.
“I’m serious. Promise me you’ll delete them.”
He groans. “I like them.” He leans in and runs his tongue up the side of my neck. “But okay.”
All of a sudden, the memories of last night hit hard, and my clit is beating an incessant rhythm and I can’t wait anymore. I need him. I tease the phone from his hands and put it on the bedside table, wanting him to focus on me. The real, present moment, me.
“Fuck me,” I order. “Right now.”
He props himself up on his elbow, his eyes flashing fire, and I know I have his full attention. “Again?”
“Again,” I confirm, and as he slides his hand between my legs, I forget about the photos.