Chapter 9
Jack
The flicker of the television greets me when my eyelids re-open. The room is dark. I check my watch. Midnight.
The house hums quietly around us. Old vents click as they cool.
Tommy sleeps on the other couch. An action movie glows on the screen. The remote rests on the floor where it slipped from his hand. Beside me, Morgan leans against my shoulder, curled in a ball with the blanket up to her neck. Her body heat seeps through our clothes and warms my side.
I whisper her name. She snuggles closer. A woman’s body feels so good wedged next to mine.
“Wake up, Morgan.” My fingers lightly comb her dark hair. “It’s midnight.”
Her eyes flutter open, and she gives a shy smile. “Oops. Fell asleep.”
Then, she pats my knee a couple of times before her palm glides back and forth on my thigh.
“I better go,” she says meekly, but her eyes search mine like she’s begging me to stop her.
This girl is a mindfuck. Everything about this feels wrong. She was assaulted yesterday, and now she’s giving ‘fuck me eyes.’
The right answer is easy. No. Get her out of here. Except, I haven’t so much as touched a woman in a year. Life gets busier. Harder. I am pissed just thinking about how I barely get by every goddamn day. I never have time.
Still, there’s no excuse for it. Yet she’s torturing me. She’s just too fucking... there. Too easy. Those pouty lips too sexy. That body begging to be used.
I hesitate. Sorta.
Fuck it.
I cup her jaw and lean down, grazing my lips against hers.
She freezes.
Not a great sign.
Could be letting me lead — a first all day.
I catch her bottom lip between my teeth, a gentle nip before I soften it with a slow kiss. Then another, unhurried and lingering. Our mouths meet more firmly this time, lips pressing, barely parting, the quiet slip of breath and faint wet sounds filling the space between us.
My jaw eases open as restraint fades, and I kiss her deeper, hungrier, like I’ve been starved.
I have.
Her mouth yields, warm and sweet. She tastes like buttered popcorn and something fruity from her lip gloss. Sugar and salt tangled together.
Delicious.
I try not to grunt like an animal as my body comes alive. My skin burns hot and my shaft hardens fast. Her taste, her mouth, her fucking scent. My desire builds and every muscle tenses.
She’s just so soft and fuckable. I fall deeper into the abyss and thread my fingers into her hair, pulling her more firmly against my mouth.
Yet, something’s off.
Her movements are steadily growing unsure, and I wonder if her interest has all been in my head. I slow our kiss, waiting for her to pull away, but she clutches my neck and speeds up.
Okay, okay, she wants this too. Good.
With the green light, I grab her curvy body and in a quick motion, position her straddling my lap. The couch dips beneath our combined weight.
Instantly, the warmth under her dress against my hips is nothing short of glorious. I need more. Every fiber of my being wants to take this woman.
My greedy hands slide under her dress and move up her thighs. I reach her panties and stroke my thumb over the thin cotton, tracing small circles around the nub of her clit.
Her thighs flex, and subtly, her hips rock.
“Like that, baby?” I murmur against her mouth.
“Uh huh,” she whispers, voice shaky.
And damn, if that’s not sexy as hell.
I let my hands grip the top of her round ass. I lift my hips, grinding my aching cock against the middle of her pussy.
She inhales and closes her eyes, taking in the sensation — feeling how badly my body wants her.
I lift again, loving the feel of my erection this close to the heat and softness of her. My length throbs, and damn, I feel her dampness soaking through my athletic shorts, wetting my cock.
“That body’s been wanting this all day, hasn’t it?” I say.
“Yeah.”
I float one hand back to her panties. I stroke the crease of her lips lazily, then press my fingertip against the cotton at her entrance, teasing her.
She gasps softly and rocks against my finger, trying to press it deeper. She wants more, just like me. Except—
I’m a heathen and everything she’s doing rips words from my mouth that shouldn’t pass my lips. Not with her.
“Goddamn. Look at you moving like you crave my cock. You’re such a needy thing,” I rasp and drag my teeth down her neck.
She exhales, and my filthy words must have hit deep, because her body trembles.
It’s intoxicating.
And those timid breaths, her luscious body, it’s driving me insane — to the point of delirium if I don’t get my shaft inside her now.
I slide down my shorts and fist the base of my dick while my other hand rips her panties to the side. The second my crown reaches that dripping entrance, I let out a husky exhale.
She doesn’t lower herself, so I lift up. My tip pushes but doesn’t advance. There’s resistance, more than normal.
I bite my own lip for a second.
No, she isn’t...
“Don’t tell me you’re a virgin.” I lean back and look into her emerald-brown eyes, flicking my gaze down a few times. “Are you?”
The quiver of her bottom lip says it all.
I swallow hard.
I should stop. But she’s the holy grail. Not just a virgin — the princess of a church I’d love to burn down. And here she is, ripe for the picking, her wetness soaking the tip of my cock and rolling down the shaft.
Hell yeah.
I charge ahead. My palm claims the small of her back, pulling her to me until there’s no space left to pretend this isn’t raw need.
My mouth drags close to her ear, my voice rough, unsteady in a way I hate.
Like a man already on his knees, already ruined, the first of many she’ll never realize she could command.
“Morgan,” I murmur, the desire thick in my voice. “Let me fuck you.”
Her breath ghosts across my jaw. She trembles, not pulling away, not yielding either. Her nails bite into my shoulders like she needs the anchor. Like she trusts me with the weight of her world.
“I’m nervous,” she whispers, lips brushing my skin. “Will you tell anyone?”
What a fucked-up question.
And I hate her for asking it. Not because she doubts me.
Because she has no idea how rare she is.
Women like her don’t wander into my life. They don’t linger. They don’t look at men like me as worth the extra effort.
They run.
I don’t want her forever. I quit pretending that sorta thing is in my future. But Christ, I feel the absence of women like her every single day.
Not just to fuck.
But I’ll take what I can get. This moment. This closeness. This fragile body in my arms.
The idea that I’d cheapen it — reduce her to drunken bragging — makes my stomach turn.
I pull back enough to look at her, my jaw tight.
“Never,” I say.
The front door flies open and my neck snaps as I look that way.
Noel stands in the doorway.
“What the hell is this? Morgan?” he says, aghast. His eyes fill with horror.
I’ve never moved so quick as I jerk my shorts back on. Morgan is already off my lap. She stumbles as she collects her heels and purse.
As if someone is chasing her, she bursts past Noel and runs to her truck without a second look.
My heart thunders in my chest.
Noel is speechless, his mouth opening and closing several times.
“Bro, uh, I’m sorry,” I stammer.
He rushes forward, slamming his palms hard against my chest.
I let him.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat.
He throws a punch, but I lean back. Another. I block it on instinct. “Stop, Noel. It was a mistake.”
“You fucking traitor! I knew you wanted her!”
“It just happened,” I defend myself.
“Liar!”
He attacks again, but I push him back. He steadies himself. His fists are clenched, nostrils flaring.
Then—
His eyes pool with tears.
It fractures my heart to see him cry. To know I caused him one more ounce of pain in his already shitty life.
“Noel, I swear. I didn’t go after Morgan.”
“Yeah right! She wouldn’t want a nonbeliever like you. A snake in the grass. You’re not my brother anymore.” He wipes tears away and storms to his bedroom.
My heart pounds against my eardrums.
“Fuck,” I curse loudly and punch a hole in the wall.
Tommy rubs his eyes, having awoken from the commotion.
“Where’s Morgan?” he says, apparently already missing her.
“She’s gone, buddy,” I answer, and press my forehead against the drywall. “It’s just us.”
Just us. The way I should’ve left it.