Chapter 3 #3
I climb into his lap and wait for him to push me back. He doesn’t. If anything, he pulls me tighter, his grip desperate, like it’s been ten years since he’s had a woman.
God knows it’s been too long since I’ve had a man.
I’d forgotten how big they are. How rough their skin is, how hard their chests are.
But Jake is the biggest I’ve ever come near; from the bulge pushing up against my thigh, to his concrete slabs for shoulders.
The knowledge makes me shameless, and I grab his hands and close them over my tits.
He growls, pushing his hips into mine, thumbs closing over my nipples.
I whimper. The radio is blaring Ashlee Simpson, but the driver can probably still hear us.
I don’t care, and Jake doesn’t seem to, either.
The car rolls on through Auckland’s streets, and our bodies stay locked together, working as though we’re alone.
Sensation blazes between my legs, the friction of my shorts almost enough to make me come.
It’s like Jake Graves-Holland wants to eat me alive, and for the first time in a long time, I want to be eaten.
“Jake,” I gasp, pulling away from his lips. “I can’t... I need…”
He snarls, an incisor flashing in the streetlights. He undoes the buttons on my shorts, pulling my Daisy Dukes wide and sliding his fingers under my G-string. He pauses. “Yeah?”
I nod, already too scared to open my mouth. I grip his biceps as he pushes inside me, the terror of what we’re doing and where we’re doing it only adding to the pleasure.
“Christ, Ada,” he mutters. “I can’t believe—”
I bury my face in his neck and bite until he stops talking. His two fingers curl inside me, and I almost choke. I’m fuller than I’ve ever been.
And it’s not even his cock, I think dumbly. Oh my God, what’s his cock going to be like?
His thumb finds my clit, rasping it lightly as he pumps, and I know I’m going to come in a ride-share.
As I shudder my way through the world’s quietest orgasm, Jake’s breathing gets louder.
Marlon Williams is singing on the radio, and I am melting from the inside out.
Jake tilts me backward, looking into my face as I come.
It’s so bright and hot it sends my orgasm into overtime.
I chew my lip to keep from screaming. I was hoping to get there at the Airbnb, but goddamn Jake Graves-Holland is an overachiever.
The car pulls over, and the thought flashes through me: I want him to destroy me. Then I remember why I’m here. Revenge. What if some of the stags are already inside the massive four-story mansion? What will they say? What will I say?
Jake lifts me from the car, and I’m instantly as worked up as I was before I came.
He carries me to the house, kissing me the whole way, and unlocks the door, punching a code into a little metal pad while his lips and teeth work across my neck and collarbone.
I grip his hair and moan into his ear. “Talented.”
“You just fuckin’ wait,” he pants, pushing the door wide.
The house is empty, I know it as soon as I’m inside.
It’s too flat. Too quiet. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I squirm out of Jake’s grasp and look around.
The place has gleaming hardwood floors and pristine white marble counters, insanely upmarket—but the sprawling living area is littered with empty beer bottles and upturned plates I highly doubt were used for food.
Through the towering floor-to-ceiling windows, I make out the silhouettes of palm trees and the glimmer of a pool.
“Over here.” Jake grabs my hand and pulls me left.
I consider stopping and asking him to fuck me on the enormous L-shaped couch, but before I can suggest it, he lifts me again, carrying me into the dark of his temporary bedroom.
It’s clean and neat; the bed made, a leather travel bag tucked in the corner.
The air smells like his cologne; sharp and expensive.
“Music?” I gasp as he moves us toward the bed. “Drinks?”
He growls like I’m wasting his time, laying me on his sheets and walking backward as though determined to look at me for as long as possible. “I’ll get a bottle. You pick the songs.”
I dig through my tote for my phone and throw on my old sex playlist; music I loved before Name Forever Redacted.
SZA blares through my phone’s internal speakers, and I place it on the bedside table, kicking off my Reeboks and yanking my crop top over my head.
I should be looking for clues on how best to demolish this place.
Instead, I finger-comb my hair. Wet my lips.
Recline on the bed and arrange myself on one hip, angling my shoulders so my tits are even.
Jake bursts through the door like an angry bear and almost drops the tequila. “Fuck me…”
I reach toward the bottle. “I need that.”
His eyes go all obsidian-black. The bottle clunks to the carpeted floor. “I’ll tell you what you fuckin’ need…”
Lust surges through me, pooling wet between my legs. It’s overwhelming. I want to press for the bottle, but Jake’s mouth closes over my right nipple. I need to be in top form for my reve—
“Oh my God! Uhhh!”
“Yeah,” Jake mutters, tearing my shorts down my legs. “That’s right. Fuck, you smell amazing.”
My invisible shields pulse a warning. Whatever is happening is dangerously close to something they can’t block.
Noted. Sex, then revenge. I know the drill.
I’m okay with kissing him again. I’m okay with his fingers sliding back under my panties. But when Jake moves along my body, lowering his face between my legs, I push his forehead away.
“What?” he demands. “I wanna—”
“I don’t let random dudes lick my pussy.”
It’s a lie. I love oral. I think men who don’t do it should hang.
But I can’t bear the thought of Jake Graves-Holland tasting me.
I haven’t showered in the last… Five minutes…
And Jake going down on me would make me feel exposed in a way coming all over his hand and probably destroying his Uber rating didn’t.
He makes a grumpy noise, but complies, settling back on top of me and kissing my neck, my cheek, the corner of my mouth.
“Disappointed?” I ask.
“Nah. I’ll talk you ’round.”
Sure you will, champ.
He slides his fingers back inside me, and all I can do is arch into the mattress and moan.
My head is buzzing, but I welcome the haze as I pull his T-shirt over his head.
He’s so fucking big, I have to stretch my arms straight, and the sight of him, bare-chested and rippling with muscle, sucks all the moisture out of my mouth.
I wrap my thighs around his hips. “Fuck me, Jake.”
He smirks, his eyes coal-dark once again. “You want it?”
“Yes.”
“You gonna be a good girl for it?”
It seems in addition to being hot and famous, Jake Graves-Holland has a Dom streak. What’s next? His dick vibrates at six different speeds?
“Yes.” I tug at his jeans. “Now?”
He sits backward, helping me with his pants. His body is ridiculous; a wall of ink and muscle. He clocks me watching and runs a palm down his insanely defined stomach and cups the enormous bulge warping his navy CK’s. “Into it?”
I nod, too scared to say what I actually think, which is ‘I’m so out of my league.’
It’s been a long time since I felt that way, and the sting is impossible to ignore.
I remember that hard bed in that horrible London hotel room.
The last validation-bang I let myself suffer through.
My shields hum to life, invisible chainmail crackling over my skin.
Never again. I’m not the grateful nerd girl who’s just happy to be here anymore.
I’m Il Capitano. Number one with a bullet.
I slide off the bed and kneel on the carpet in front of Jake, cupping my tits and pouting like a porn star. “Sorry you didn’t get to the strippers tonight.”
He swallows. “Yeah? You gonna dance for me?”
“You couldn’t handle it.”
He lets out a rough laugh. “I’d try.”
“Why don’t you try and watch me do something else, instead?”
I won’t let him go down on me, but I’ve got no problem going down on him. I slide down his briefs to reveal a genuine two-hander. I’m not faking my admiration as I run my fingers and tongue along his shaft. It’s hard as iron and by far the thickest and longest I’ve ever come near.
So, fuck you, London.
“Ada,” Jake pants. “Ada.”
“Yes?” I say, lapping the head like it’s my favourite treat. “You don’t like this?”
His jaw tightens, lips twisting like he’s in pain. “‘Course I do. You look so pretty sucking my cock.”
The compliment lands harder than I want. I focus on drawing him deeper.
“Fuck.” Fingers trace the hair from my eyes. “I can’t believe—”
It’s easy to get men to stop talking when you’re blowing them. That’s just a stone-cold fact. I give Jake the doe eyes as I suck, taking him so deep I gag. But guys like that, the sounds and the mess. Sure enough, I’m working less than a minute when I taste pre-come.
“Ada,” Jake urges. “You wanna get back on the bed?”
I keep sucking, unsure if I should comply or end things this way. It would be easier. Less complicated. But a second later, I release his cock. The heat melting between my legs won’t be denied.
Jake lifts me and lays me on his mattress. He’s flushed from ears to collarbone, blood pounding beneath his skin. I can’t keep myself from touching him, running my hands along the lines of his magnificent jaw. He groans and bends his head, kissing me like we just got married.
I almost pass out. Name Forever Redacted wouldn’t kiss me after I went down on him, not even if I brushed my teeth. I feel a rush of affection for the man on top of me, immediately followed by terror. I pull back.
“Something wrong?”
“No,” I lie, plastering a smile over my fear. Affection is the last thing I want to feel. “Can we please…?”
“Fuck yes,” he hisses, fisting his cock, his huge fingers making it look almost normal by comparison.
He sinks on top of me, and I spread myself wider, my heart pulsing. “Jake…”