15. Julie
15
T he last time I saw this wild expression on Jason’s handsome face was a minute before he walked out on me, and it assaulted my heart with a hammer.
This time, it’s doing a whole lot of different shit to my heart. I mean, it’s still pounding like a woodpecker on a mission to escape my chest, but it’s also swelling with excitement when I catch him charging for the dance floor like he’s about to raise hell if Ford has the bright idea to move his hand anywhere else than where he has them planted on my hips.
I bite my lip to hold back my grin, grinding my ass against Ford just to sell how much I’m into this and push Jason over the edge a little more.
“You’re gonna get my ass kicked, Julie,” Ford whispers in my ear, and I find the mischief in his eyes matching mine when I glance over my shoulder.
Twisting in his grasp, I nod in answer to his comment, right before a broad figure steps into our space, his fury palpable.
I expect Ford to push Jason a little more, and put up a fight, but he just steps back, hands up and a massive lopsided grin, full teeth and no holding back.
Jason keeps his gaze for the longest of seconds, his chest heaving. The tension between the two men springs alive thousands of butterflies in my stomach, and I gulp, my traitorous vagina pulsing as my lips part.
God, Jason is sexy when he’s in full wrath mode.
The whole sight heats my already flushed skin to a feverish point, burning me from the inside when his blue eyes slowly laser in on me, then he dismisses Ford with a jerk of his head.
Ford laughs, backing down, but not before he grabs his shoulder in passing.
“Took you long enough,” he says, loud enough to twist my lips as Jason’s focus never drops from mine.
He ain’t lying.
Unspoken words form as our gazes stay glued, my heart beating a mile a minute, but slowly, the steel in his features softens.
Just a tad. Barely noticeable. But enough for me to pull him closer by his shirt, until we are toe-to-toe, my mouth leveled with his because of my high heels.
“Jealous, Jason?”
I lick my lips, dropping my attention to his, desperate to know if they taste like beer or the tequila shot we had earlier. If they still feel soft and tempting like they did the last time they were eating me like a Sunday dinner.
But my gaze is forced back up when he slides his hand in my hair, gripping the strands close to my scalp, and I gasp.
“Shut up, Jules.”
His grasp is rough, demanding, controlling and, fuck me, making me one wet, horny puddle on this dance floor. His other hand wraps around the small of my back, pushing me into his hard groin, leaving nothing up in the air about what he’s feeling.
Our mouths scatter around each other’s when he starts moving his hips, leaving me no choice but to follow his lead. I lift my hands around his neck, breathing in his fresh cologne. It’s mixed with a hint of alcohol, the warmth of his damp skin, and something sweet that makes me wish someone could bottle this in a cocktail for me.
The friction of our lower body joined as one teases every nerve in my body alive, each move more vibrant, more sensitive.
And then all bets are off. Hands are moving. Bodies dancing to a rhythm I can’t keep up with, and after tiptoeing around him, I honestly don’t care. Just being this close to him, the falling of his chest synced with my rise, it’s like a bottle of wine I can’t get enough of.
Special, something you should savor, but it’s so good you just want to knock it back like a bottom-shelf whiskey.
I’ve danced with Jason before. There were the high school dances when Jacob stood me up. Prom. The few times I’d visit him. Kayla’s birthday each year.
Each time, we pushed the lines a little further, a little harder. Each time, I’d come home confused and unsatisfied. But this time, the stakes are raised, and my body knows it. It’s on high alert from the second we melt together as one, only the thin layers of our clothes separating our desires from fusing.
Jason pants in my ear, his moves growing deeper and more urgent as he drops his hand to my ass, pushing me exactly where he wants me to be.
Holy shit.
My clit is taunted, like a feather is deliciously sliding past it with each grind, but it’s enough to put my head in the clouds. I grip his neck tighter, holding on for dear life while I let my forehead rest on his shoulder. What’s happening?
The world seems to disappear around me, the colors dissipating yet pulsing my senses to the edge with each strobe that flashes by. All that’s left is this merging tension between me and him, growing thicker and thicker with each stroke.
“Jason.” It comes out as something between a plea and a command. I want more.
Forgotten are all the people around me, not even considered is what this looks like to an outsider. I don’t care. Because it feels like my reality has lifted from its axis, spinning me until I can’t stand.
I move a little faster, hitting a spot I didn’t even know I could hit fully clothed and on my feet but, dammit, it’s there and I can’t stop. I don’t wanna stop.
My sensation builds, Jason’s shallow breaths below my ear adding oil to the fire in my groin.
“Fuck,” I moan, twisting the clammy fabric of his shirt in my palm, riding a high that hijacks my sense of being.
Every muscle in my body tenses as my orgasm ripples through me, a riptide threatening to suck me under as the wave of pleasure slams through my body. A moan vibrates against his shoulder, followed by a wail as I get taken by my shot of pleasure before I am still in his arms.
Oh. My. Mother. Fucking. God.
I slowly get back to my senses with a shaky breath, as his grip on me releases enough to find his expression while I lean back.
His blue eyes have darkened with a wildness that’s laced with hunger. A palm slides up my neck, cupping my cheek as he presses his mouth flush with my ear.
“Did you just come?”
Embarrassment washes over me as I peer into his gaze, suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable.
“I need a minute.”
“Jules?” I find nothing but understanding in his expression, but somehow that doesn’t make it any better.
I escape his hands, taking off like my ass is on fire. Fucking hell, what just happened?
With big strides and soaking wet panties hidden by my black pants, I find the bathroom and storm through it.
I hit the middle of the three faucets in front of the wall mirror and take in my flushed features as I hold my wrists underneath the cold stream. I focus on sucking in deep breaths into my tight chest, my wide eyes staring back at me with a vividness I haven’t seen in a while.
I just had a mind-blowing orgasm dry humping on the dance floor of a club.
What am I, sixteen?
How is that even possible? But I know how it’s possible. It’s Jason. I’m open and free when it comes to him, and him knowing exactly what sets me off makes me even more sensitive to his touch. The man keeps giving me orgasms with my clothes on like he can make me come just by looking at me.
“Hey.” My attention swings to the girl washing her hands next to me, and I give her a small smile.
“Hi.” I turn off the faucet, shaking my hands to get the excess water off my skin.
“Having a good night?” I glance at her interested look, her eyes a little narrow, as if they are zooming in on me.
I pull some paper towels from the dispenser in front of me, then offer her another friendly expression. “Definitely.”
I’d think that would just be it, some kind exchange amongst peers in the bathroom on a night out. But the way she keeps studying me has the hairs in my back overruling the goosebumps I formed on the dance floor, and I turn to face her.
“Are you alright?” I ask, frowning, as I dry my hands.
Her brown hair is cut off just below her shoulders, her brown eyes reminding me of my own. Do I know her? I run my gaze past her jeans and two-tone tank top, diving into my brain to search for any familiarity.
She fiddles with her nail bitten fingers, then lifts her eyes to mine again. “Yeah, it’s just… You’re Julie, right? Julie Bradford?”
“I’m sorry, have we met before?” Confusion deepens my frown, and my palms freeze with the ball of damp paper stuck between it.
Sympathy flickers around her irises. “I know what he did.”
“You know what who did?” An unsettling feeling takes root at the base of my spine, my orgasm bliss totally overruled by tension clawing back into my muscles.
“He did it to me too.”
He did…what?
My lashes hit my cheeks with rapid blinks, a weird feeling forming in the top of my lungs before it grows big enough to hurt my throat. She can’t be talking about…
No, that’s not possible.
“I think you have the wrong person.”
I spin on my heels with every intention of brushing this off as a case of mistaken identity, but it’s her next words that fuck that whole plan up.
“Jacob Spencer.” My feet freeze as ice settles in my heart, my instinct causing me to turn back around. “You’re not the only one.”
I have a million questions bouncing around my head, but none of them actually find life outside my dry throat.
How does she know who I am?
How does she know Jacob?
How did she find me? Is this coincidence, or did she put in an effort to find me?
What the fuck is going on?
Her energy is kind and caring, a sweet smile never wavering from her face, but it still feels like she’s evaporating all the oxygen from the room, saying things that are just not possible.
It’s not true. It can’t be.
I shake my head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
My feet fall back into motion, but she quickly grabs my wrist, softly holding me back.
“I need your help.”
No, no, no. This is not happening.
I want to ask what the hell she’s talking about, but suspicion keeps my mouth shut.
Maybe this is one of Jacob’s ways to test me. Yeah, that’s probably it. He wants to make sure I keep my mouth shut. She’s just one of his pawns, and the second he hears I engaged in whatever she wanted, he will post that video.
I can’t risk it.
“I’m sorry, I can’t help you.” I pull out of her grasp in a dead set pace toward the door.
“Yes, you can!” she yelps behind me, desperation dripping from her tone.
She’s a good actress. But then again, so was Jason. But then, why does it feel like I’m shot straight in the heart locking eyes with her as I glance over my shoulder? Why do her eyes show the hopelessness I see in the morning every day?
She might be speaking the truth. But I can’t risk it. I can’t risk putting it all on the line.
“You’re mistaking me for someone else,” I say, then walk out of there with my chin up, ignoring the bag of stones that’s been dropped in my stomach.
What the hell was that?