Chapter 3 #2
I realize that having him inside me is great, but the real pleasure hasn’t really started yet.
I lift my hips, letting his cock slide almost all the way out before bringing myself down again.
Once I catch a steady rhythm, I know exactly why sex is such a big deal that poems are written about it, art is created to capture the sensuality of it, and people will move heaven and earth to be with their preferred partner.
We both move together, doing our part to build the sensation and pleasure until we’re moving at a frenzied pace.
All the buildup suddenly detonates, causing such strong contractions of my core that Jake growls and holds me in place, punching through the last few strokes to achieve his own orgasm.
Mine seems to go on and on forever and I can’t seem to think a clear thought to save my life.
When I collapse on his chest, I can barely make out him whispering praises in my ear.
The next thing I know, he’s climbing out of bed. “Don’t move,” he tells me gently. “I’ll be right back.”
He comes back moments later with a glass of cold water, which he presses to my lips. In this moment, water has never tasted so good.
“I’m going to clean you up so you can sleep better.”
At first, I don’t understand what he’s talking about but then a cool, wet cloth is pressed against my pussy. Nothing outside of sex has ever felt as amazing as this cool compress against my heated flesh. When he’s finished, Jake settles down beside me and pulls the blanket up over us.
“How are you holding up, baby?” he asks, with a note of sincerity in his voice.
“I’m good.” It comes out smaller than I mean it to. “Better than okay.”
“Good.”
“I reassure him, “Thank you for taking such good care of me.”
His expression blanks out for a second before he responds. “I should be the one thanking you for the best sex of my entire life. For the record, you’re the prettiest goddamn thing I’ve ever set eyes on, Nora.”
When he says it in that breathless tone, I can almost believe it.
And for now, that’s more than enough. I know that I should say something clever.
Unfortunately, I don’t seem to have the capacity to create an original thought, much less clever comebacks.
And lying there on his chest is exactly how I fall asleep.
***
I wake up at five forty-seven. I know the time because his clock is on the nightstand when I jolt awake. He’s got a digital clock with blinking numbers. It’s old but effective. I barely move, replaying last night in my mind. Jake was everything any woman could want and the sex was amazing.
The early hour means Jake is still sleeping soundly.
He’s rolled over onto his stomach in the night, giving me a nice view of the tattoos on his back.
His hair is a mess, but it only makes him more handsome in my eyes.
I want to keep him so much it hurts, but I know that can never happen.
My family would take a nice man like Jake and chew him up and spit him out.
He shifts in his sleep, causing the sheet to drop down, pooling at his waist. I squint to get one last look at his ink, realizing he’s got a huge back piece that’s stretched from shoulder to shoulder.
A mixture of horror, regret, and cold, naked fear threatens to overwhelm my senses because I’ve seen this tattoo before.
I’ve seen it on the men on the back wall of my father’s office, at the Hyenas’ clubhouse.
He’s got photographs with targets superimposed on them.
It’s a Sons of Rage tattoo, his mortal enemies.
He’s vowed to kill every single Rager. My father has talked about killing these men for the last several years.
He says they took his territory and it’s a debt of blood that must be repaid.
I’m frozen in place, unable to move or even breathe. I need to get the hell out of here before this Rager wakes up. I quietly scramble back, desperately trying not to wake him. It takes some maneuvering, but I manage to get out of his bed without him being any the wiser.
I spy my clothing across the room. He folded it neatly in a pile on his dresser. My jacket is draped over the back of a chair. I quietly grab my clothes, jacket, messenger bag and boots and get dressed in the hallway.
My mind is reeling. I can’t believe this is happening to me. If my family gets wind that I’ve slept with a Rager, they will be beyond furious. They might even get it into their always paranoid minds that I’ve betrayed them to the enemy. I need to get the hell out of here and never look back.
I creep down the stairs as quietly as possible. I approach the front door and that’s when I see it. His leather vest hanging on a coat rack. I pull it out with one hand to see the club logo on the back.
I flip the cut over and find that not only is his name Jinx, but he’s also a damn club officer, their sergeant-at-arms. I’m feeling sick to my stomach as I slip out the front door, gently closing it behind me.
For some reason, it won’t shut properly.
I don’t want to slam it shut in case I wake Jake up, so hopefully it’ll be okay. It’s a nice neighborhood.
Still worrying about the door situation, I walk down his gravel driveway and take off running when I hit the road in the gray pre-dawn cold. I don’t look back at the house. I don’t let myself look back at the house because I need to put as much distance between this man and myself as possible.
I wanted and chose Jake. I would never have chosen a brother from the Sons of Rage, much less their sergeant-at-arms. Jake was warm, funny, considerate and a wonderful lover. Jinx is nothing but danger in my world.
My hands are shaking. I open my purse, take out my phone and order a rideshare.
It’s less than twelve minutes out. Time seems to stand still.
Eventually, a green Honda Civic pulls in, driven by a man in his fifties.
He cheerfully says good morning because today is just another day for him.
I get in the back seat, close the door and try my best to act normal.
I end up pressing my forehead against the cool glass of the window and staring out at the scenery moving past.