Chapter 25 The Next Adventure #3
"Was planned for me from the day I was born.
There was never a question that I was going to work for my father.
I…I obviously never expected to be CEO, but it was a foregone conclusion that I'd be an executive of some kind, someday.
I always assumed I'd be Britt's VP." She shrugs.
Looks around. "I…I want this life with you, Jakob.
These people. I don't know what it looks like, but that's part of the adventure.
I've…I've never traveled, as an adult. We did a lot as a kid, but then college and career took over, and…" she shrugs again. “I’ve already decided I’m going to step down as CEO and sell my shares. Maybe even sell the whole company. I’d have to make sure my idiot brother is taken care of, the useless twit.” She shakes her head, sighing with an eyeroll. “God, Bryan.”
I frown. “You haven’t mentioned your brother till now.”
She shrugs. “Bryan isn’t a bad person; he’s just spoiled, and we have absolutely nothing in common.
We’re only three years apart, but our lives are just completely…
unaligned, I guess. I was an accidental pregnancy for my parents—they only wanted one child, initially, and got Britt.
I came along unexpectedly six years later, and then, a few years after me, Mom got baby on the brain and talked Dad into another one, and I became the middle child.
Bryan was a junior in high school when everything with Britt happened, and my father spoiled him and coddled him after her suicide, which is understandable, but it means Bryan has never had to work for anything in his life.
He thinks everything is going to just be handed to him, which is a burden I never signed up for, but that’s family, right?
I don’t always have a lot of patience for him, but he is my brother, so no matter what, I’ll make sure at very least that he’s housed and clothed, although finding a career path he’s suited to has thus far proved somewhat of a challenge. ”
She looks away, blows out a breath, and seems to dismiss the topic of her brother. “I’m ready for what's next,” she says, gazing up at me once more, “and I'm hoping you'll let me spend what's next with you—all of you. Whatever it looks like. I’m ready for an adventure.”
"Let you?" I echo, my tone reflecting my stunned disbelief. "Let you? Brys, I was prepared to beg you to spend every other weekend here with me."
She grins up at me, fingers dancing over my crotch. "You can still beg, Jakob. Just…for other things."
"Perhaps we should go explore our new home."
She looks at me with such love that my soul could explode from the intensity and wonder of it. From the shock that she could see me that way. Want this with me. So easily just… accept me.
Again, my stupid eyes burn.
She lifts up, frames my face, pulls me down, and kisses each of my eyes. "None of that, if you please, sir."
"Sir, is it?"
"Yes, sir." A breathy, erotic whisper. She slips her hand inside my borrowed sweatpants and clutches me. "Command me, Jakob. Please."
Feral, blazing hunger for her ignites within me—held at bay until now. "Let's go."
I drag her by the wrist to the elevator, tap the keycard against the reader. When the door closes, I pivot, slam her back against the wall, and take her mouth.
Slash a hot, demanding kiss across her lips, steal her tongue, devour her breath. "God, I fucking love you," I growl.
She whimpers, and her knees give out. "Jake…Jakob. Oh god."
I catch her, hold her up, pin her to the wall with my hips. "What did you just call me?"
"Jakob?" I kissed her momentarily, stupid, I think.
"No, before that." He sounds angry.
“It was…I stammered. I said Jake—like…I didn't mean—"
"Say it again."
Her exotic eyes find mine. "Jake."
I shake my head, laughing. "Jake."
She wrinkles her nose. "I don't know."
"Maybe just in private, for now." I kiss her again, until she breaks away, panting. "When I'm making you come, you can call me Jake."
"Yes, sir."
I huff a laugh. "Fuck, I love that."
The elevator dings, announcing we've reached the top floor. I drag her down the hallway to the correct door. Tap the card. Shoves open the door.
She has no interest in a tour. "Bed." She's already tearing at my sweatpants, shoving them down. "Bed, now."
"Try again." I grab her wrists, pull them away, trap them against my chest with one hand, and pull her against me by her ass with the other.
She tosses the card onto the narrow table near the door. "Take me to bed. Now. Please…sir." Her blue-ringed eyes are damp with desire, tears of…I don't know. Joy? Need? Pure, overwhelming love? All of the above. "Please, Jakob. Please."
"As you wish."
She cackles breathily at my reference. "Princess Bride? Really?”
"I watch movies. I was a recluse for ten years. What did you think I was doing? Knitting?”
"Mysterious supervillain shit, I imagine."
"I was not a supervillain."
She quirks an eyebrow at me, takes the card from me, and shows me the dripping-blood font. "Oh no?"
I smack her ass as I lead her to the bedroom. "Well, maybe a little supervillan-y."
She walks backward into the bedroom, pulling me after her. “If I'm not orgasming in the next sixty seconds, we're fighting."
I close the door behind me and cross my arms over my chest. "Then you'd better take off your clothes."
"Yes, sir," she breathes. "Right away, sir."
25: An Ending
Brys
My heart pounds with anticipation. Jakob is between me and the door, strong arms crossed over his heavy chest. His eyes blaze with arousal, and he breathes deeply and slowly, brow furrowed, jaw ticking as he stares at me.
I peel off the shirt first, toss it to my feet. Push down and step out of the leggings. Reach for my underwear.
"No,” he barks. "Bra first.”
"Yes, sir." God save me, but I feel such a wild thrill in this. In knowing I can submit to him safely, willingly, eagerly. Give him all the decisions, all the control.
He loves it just as much—knowing I want this. He's not taking anything from me; I'm giving it. All he's doing is accepting.
Serendipity.
Puzzle pieces made to fit perfectly together.
I strip the bra off, watching him watch my breasts bounce free. His cock swells behind the gray cotton of the sweatpants.
And now I get it.
You see those memes about gray sweatpants doing for women what a skin-tight pair of yoga pants does for men. And I never got it.
Now I do. I really fucking get it. Because fucking hell, the gray sweatpants. The outline of his huge cock behind them. The way I can see it swaying as he moves. The way they cling to his taut, hard, round ass.
Fuck, yes.
"You need to wear those more often for me," I say.
He glances down. "Ratty old gray sweats?" He sounds adorably confused, maybe even a little offended.
I grin, and I know exactly how it looks—wild with arousal, positively primal with it.
"Yes!” It comes out a soft snarl.
He smirks. "If that's what does it for you, sweetheart." We both go still. "I…I've never used terms like that before."
"Me either." I shake my head, throat tight. "Use them all. I want…" I blink. "I…I want—"
"I know what you want," he says. "Now come over here, Beautiful."
I come over there, in just my panties—Terra's, as she's the only one with a big enough ass to lend me her underwear. Good news is they're kinda sexy. Black lace cut high on the hips to bare my ass cheeks and a narrow triangle covering my puss.
I don't own sexy underwear. If I want to seduce a man, I put on my silk kimono. But I admit, this feels…hot.
His eyes burn with barely restrained need; his hands shake with it. When I'm a foot away, he holds a hand up. "Stop there."
I stop. Stand waiting, breathing, eager for his next command.
"Turn around."
Swallowing hard, I turn around. What is he going to do? Spank me? I've long fantasized about that. I told him as much. But I'm also scared of it. Not the pain—he told me doesn't get off on pain, and neither do I. What am I scared of? Trick question—it's not fear. It's…anticipation, desperation.
"Take them off. Slowly." I glance over my shoulder, but he nudges my head around. "Don't look at me. Just do as I say. Take off the panties, now, slowly."
"Yes sir, Jakob."
I'm panting shallowly, shaking all over. Slowly, I shimmy my hips side to side as I wriggle the lace down past my buttocks. As they reach my thighs, I bend at the waist, little by little, pushing the underwear down.
When they're pooled on the floor around my feet, his voice stops me with his next order. "Grab your ankles."
Good thing I'm flexible.
I hold onto my ankles, feeling more exposed and vulnerable than I ever have in my life.
A rough hand smooths gently down my spine from my shoulder blades to the small of my back.
Fingers dance over my left buttock. A single fingertip traces the circumference of one cheek.
The other. I gasp when the fingertip brushes the tight knot of my asshole, and I remember the things he promised he’d do to me, there, and I stop breathing.
"Spread your legs a bit." I shift my stance wider. "Good girl. Thank you."
This is new; thank you?
I shiver at the praise, the thanks. I don't understand why I react this way, and frankly, I don’t give a single, solitary, flying mother-fuck. I like it. I want it.
"Ask for it."
"Spank me, Jakob."
"Say please."
"Please, Jakob?" I'm so excited I can barely breathe, so turned on that my arousal is dripping down my thighs, literally. "Please spank me."
"Stand up."
Disappointment slithers through me, but I obey anyway. "I asked," I protest. "I said please."
His lips ghost against my ear. "Fuck, honey. You really want to be spanked, don't you?"
"Yes," I whisper. "So bad."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
"Why?"
"I don't know!"
"Why, dammit? You do know. Just admit it."