Chapter Twenty-Four
Jack and I have spent the last three days holed up in our villa, exploring each other’s bodies and watching movies, only leaving to run out and grab takeout. When we’re not chasing our orgasms, we laugh and talk about the most random things. I’m still uncertain how to ask him about the blindfold and handcuffs, but oddly, I’ve come to enjoy them. My stomach flips whenever I see him remove them from the bottom drawer.
Jack and I have quickly become something exciting and hard to explain. We’ve spent every waking hour with each other, forcing us to get to know one another on a deeper level. If we didn’t have to attend the Harvest Dinner tonight, we’d continue to exist only in the confines of the six-foot-long king-size bed, living in our self-made bubble.
Standing in front of the full-length mirror in the bedroom, I’m preparing for the evening ahead. I run my palms along my hips, feeling how this dress hugs my curves. My body tingles from how Jack has awakened my senses. The world is brighter, newer, and more alive. I chose a deep blue off-the-shoulder dress that landed right above my ankles.
When I saw it for the first time, I knew it was the right one for tonight. The color reminds me of the vibrant shade of bottomless blue Jack’s eyes turn when his body pains for mine. I can tell when he’s full of desire based on how his eyes flare like they’re strong enough to hit the bottom of my soul.
I flip my long hair behind my back to add the last finishing touches to my makeup. My heart skips a beat when I think about the new direction that our relationship has taken. I can’t tell what to make of it—instead, I’ve decided to live in the present.
I glance back at myself in the mirror and immediately notice my cheeks redden with the flashbacks of the past week. My legs shake slightly, remembering waking up with him between them last night.
Already pantyless, Jack had an easy time slipping under the covers. By the time I woke up, my orgasm was already breaching. With every slow lick, a bolt of electricity hit my back while warmth settled into my core. When my body started to tremble, he held me still, kept his mouth locked in place, and sucked every bit of my arousal. By the time he resurfaced with a mischievous smile on his face, I was feral and begging for his cock. After he came—and then I did for a second time, I fell back asleep on top of him. It’s been animal-like and sexy as fuck.
I woke up this morning with fresh coffee on my nightstand. I smiled at Jack’s thoughtfulness, but the ache in my stomach was already craving relief from the only person I knew could provide it. So, we fucked again.
I nibble on my bottom lip, suck in a heavy breath, and reach down to retrieve my heels from the floor. My fingers hook around the straps while I reach for the doorknob with my other hand, but I pause before opening it.
With purpose, I walk back over to the top dresser drawer and take out a white lacy lingerie set. The top is a strapless bra, and the bottom is a silk and lace thong. I swallow hard, knowing exactly what I’m doing, submitting to my need for him. Lifting my dress, I slide the cotton thong off my feet one at a time and replace it with want and desire. Then, I unhook my light pink bra and throw it back into the drawer, replacing it with the white one.
I’m his now.
Taking one last quick look at myself, I retrieve my shoes and leave the bedroom. Turning the corner down the hallway, I’m met with Jack’s back as he faces the open doors to our private backyard and pool.
I’m overcome at the sight of his broad shoulders, dark blue collared shirt, and dress pants that hug every inch of his perfect ass. Then, my eyes fall to his brown belt, wondering how quickly I can rip that off him.
“Hi,” I say, holding myself up on the counter, slipping my heel on with the other hand.
Jack slowly turns around with a smirk on his face. “My wife.”
A smile pulls at the corners of my mouth. He takes a few steps toward me, closing the distance between us. With each step, my breath becomes more difficult until our bodies flush, shutting off my oxygen completely. The intensity of his stare reminds me of the first time I met him at the airport.
Still struggling with the straps on my shoes with one hand, I bend to get a better grip.
“Let me help you with that.” Jack bends to his knee. I feel his warm palm gliding down my calf and across the bottom of my foot.
“Thank you.” Goosebumps break out along the length of my leg. I rub my lips together, dragging my eyes around the room, searching for an escape because I already know where this is headed.
But there isn’t one.
There is no more escaping him.
Jack fastens the buckle on one foot, then moves to the other side, sliding his hands along my legs, heightening my nerves before cupping my heels back. He reaches for the other shoe on the floor next to us and slips it onto my foot.
My arms bend behind me with my palms molded into the granite countertop, supporting my entire weight as gravity fights with my existence. I battle against falling to the ground and floating up into space because, at this moment, I don’t know whether I want to succumb to his touch or drift away. We can’t go even a few hours without fucking each other. At this rate, we’ll never be able to leave.
“You look beautiful,” Jack’s voice is smooth. His hands run up my sides and over my curves as he raises to a standing position. “Mrs. Bradley.”
I bathe in his words. My self-pride falls victim to them as it crumbles at his feet. I part my lips to speak. “I want—”
I want to taste him finally, and I can’t wait any longer.
“What do you want?”
“I want to taste you,” I say, facing away.
Silence.
“Yeah? Get on your knees.”
Eagerly, I twist and kneel in front of him. Glancing through my eyelashes, I ask him again, “Can I taste you?”
His eyes flare. “If that’s what you want.”
I watch as he unbuckles his belt, slides his zipper down, and removes his pants. Every time Jack and I have had sex, I have the blindfold on, and even though I’ve seen his impressive length when we were lying naked in bed together, there’s something about seeing his hard cock from this angle that makes me needy and desperate.
“Open for me and stick your tongue out,” he instructs.
I comply, opening up for him and keeping my eyes locked on his, Jack slides himself along my warm tongue. Wetness coats my panties as I let him go deeper. Thrusting a few times, he lets out a groan. I fist the base of his cock, giving it a squeeze. He tastes so good. I let my tongue glide along him, cloaking him with saliva.
“That’s so good,” he grunts, gripping my hair. He guides my mouth back and forth. Hearing him call out my name in such raw pleasure urges me to suck harder, taking more of him. A desperate hunger within me needs to have all of him. It feels so real, so natural, to make his insides a part of mine.
“Mmm,” I moan, enjoying his hands that are threaded tightly on the back of my head while his body curls around me. I continue sucking, lapping up the small beads of precome that drip from him.
“You’re so needy,” he grits out. “I love it.”
I continue to pump his base with one hand while the other finds the softness of his balls. Massaging them, I coax his orgasm out. When his legs stiffen, I know he’s at his peak. He’s expecting me to let go so we can have sex, but this isn’t about us—this is about him. I suck harder on the head, then slide down one more time before salty warm squirts hit the back of my throat. He cries out as his legs shudder. I swallow him down, sucking harder and craving for more.
I finally release, tipping back on my feet.
Panting, Jack looks down at me. His jaw clenches, and his chest heaves, chasing a full breath. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to.”
“You didn’t have to swallow either.” He bends to kiss my forehead lightly. A kiss of approval that I’d die to feel again. “I mean, it was fucking amazing, but that’s not my expectation.”
I start rising to my feet, taking care not to wrinkle my dress even more than it already is. “I wanted to do that too.”
“Wait. Let me help you,” he says while buttoning his dress pants.
“Thank you.”
A smirk suddenly appears on his face. “We should probably brush your teeth before you have to be my arm candy for the night.”
I giggle. “But do I have to? It would be a fun little joke knowing I’m smiling with a mouth full of your come.”
“As much as I know you’re not serious, that would still be fucking hot.”
“Or am I?”
“Now you’re messing with me.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Maybe.”
“Piper,” he growls like a warning. “In the bathroom.”
“Fine,” I say, shuffling my feet with Jack on my heels.
I grab my bubblegum pink toothbrush from the holder and squeeze a dash of minty fresh toothpaste on it, but right before it hits my mouth, I see Jack’s arm come around from the back. His tall frame towers over me in our reflection in the mirror. A couple of loose strands of blond hair hang over the scar above his right eye.
“Let me do it,” he says, gently taking the toothbrush from my hand.
I nod, slowly opening my mouth for him again, but for a different reason this time.
Jack slips the toothbrush in, sweeping softly back and forth on the bottom back teeth before flipping to the top. I never imagined someone brushing my teeth could be such an intimate experience. But I think that’s because I’ve never had Jack do it.
Jack and I exchange intense looks in the mirror, weakening my knees. He removes the brush from my mouth when it fills with white bubbles. “Spit.”
I cup both hands around my mouth before spitting into the sink. Then, he runs the toothbrush under the water. He’s still flush with my back, and even when I bend, he does the same, moving with me.
When I straighten, my eyes bounce over to the scar above his eyebrow. “Tell me the story about how you got that scar.”
Looking at me through the mirror, he brings the toothbrush up one more time. Because I now respond to his every move, I open for him again.
Jack clears his throat. “I think I was about seven years old when it happened.” He softly brushes in a circular motion while I stand almost limp, letting him take care of me. “I played outside all day, but it was time for dinner. I remember my mom calling me in, and as a typical kid, I wasn’t ready to come yet, so I took off into the vineyards.” Jack rinses the brush and hands me a cup to rinse. “I thought it was funny until I heard the inflection in her voice change, and it seemed like she was getting worried. I turned around too quickly, slipped on some rocks and dirt, and fell forward into the wires and vines. I was so hysterical that I think every staff member on the entire property came running.”
I turn to face him. He runs his hands through my hair and leans down to kiss the tip of my nose. I clutch the lapels of his collared shirt. “I bet your mom was upset.”
“She was.” Jack glances at himself in the mirror. “We should get going.”
“Okay,” I reply, flattening the subtle wrinkles in the fabric of my dress.
Jack gives me another once over. “I don’t know how I’ll keep my hands off you tonight.”
I fluff my hair a few times while he heads into the living room. “You’re going to have to try. We have a show to put on.”
“We do.”
I walk out of the bedroom to see him leaning against the corner of the wall with that same look on his face from earlier.
“Oh no, not again!” I laugh.
He pushes himself off and stalks toward me. “It’s tempting,” he whispers, swiping his wallet and keys from the counter behind me.
“Yes, I know, but we have somewhere to be!”
He chuckles without a response, then intertwines his fingers through mine, like it has become so natural, and then ushers me out of the door.
The short car ride to the winery hosting the event this year is not made in silence like so many other car rides before. Jack talks to me about his family’s annual crush event. He explains that in Dupara, the harvest season events are as big for the winery owners and the community as they are for the tourists that flock here each year.
“People who aren’t in this community don’t understand how close and loyal they are to the authenticity of winemaking and its lifestyle. Most of the families have been here for generations, some settling in Wine Country as early as the late 1800s,” Jack tells me.
While he explains the brief history of this region, I study the features of his face, taking in his sharp jawline and lips—the ones that have now touched every inch of my body.
“That’s interesting. No wonder they’re wary of outsiders. They take so much pride in being involved in all aspects of their community,” I say.
“But to a fault sometimes,” he responds while parking the car in front of what appears to be a gothic Victorian-style manor.
Peering out the window and through the ominous blanket of night, the overpowering building and endless rows of cars suddenly awaken my nerves.
I feel Jack’s eyes on me before I hear him speak. “You okay?”
I pull my bottom lip between my teeth. “Yes. A little nervous, that’s all.”
“You look beautiful, and remember, you’re not the one being judged here. I am. You’re only here to make me look good, and I know without a doubt that you’ll be successful at it.” Jack palms my cheek with one hand, then runs his fingers through my freshly blown hair. “Your job is to show up, drink wine, and be pretty.”
I smile up at him, leaning into his satisfying comfort. “That sounds like the perfect job for me. I will be the best fake girlfriend you’ve ever had.”
His expression briefly falls, then his eyes lower before darting back up to mine. “I don’t doubt that.”
Once Jack drops his hand from my face and opens the door to exit the car, I am empty and alone. It’s not until he’s on the other side, opening my door, and extending his arm for me to take—that I feel whole again. It’s an unnerving feeling, and this conflicting emotion is unfamiliar to me. Forced to grow up too soon by being the unexpected caregiver of my mother’s emotional well-being, I’ve grown accustomed to only having myself to rely on to meet my own basic needs. Has my guard dropped already?
We link arms as he guides us to the dark wood double doors with the intricately designed brass doorknobs. I suck in one more breath of precious air to calm my nerves right as the heavy doors swing open. With my hand firmly placed in Jack’s, he leads me through a small crowd, waiting at a small bar area to my left. I glance to the right to see another group waiting to take tastings directly from an oak barrel.
“It’s absolutely magical in here,” I say, my heels clicking on the floor as I follow behind him.
Jack takes us down the stairs and through the propped open iron gates, leading us into a dimly lit space where thousands of candles are lit, welcoming guests into what seems to be a step back in time two centuries. It’s romantic and almost dreamlike.
“Glad you like it. Should we find our seats or sample some wine first?”
“Sample the wine first!”
He laughs, shifting us toward the barrel room. “I knew you’d say that.”
“Jack!” a female voice from behind us calls out.
We both turn around to find Sophia, Jack’s ex-girlfriend, standing only a few feet away. Her long brown hair is pulled into a tight bun, making her oversized dark eyes look like they’re bulging out of her head. Okay, that was mean—but she’s a bitch.
Standing to her side is a man that I assume is her fiancé. He’s wider than Jack, with fiery red hair, a goatee, and extremely good-looking. Although Jack could not be more opposite, it’s hard not to appreciate Sophia’s impeccable taste in men. My nose arches on one side the moment those beady eyes land on Jack.
Mine.
“Sophia,” he snarls, squeezing my hand.
She smiles, flashing awkwardly straight teeth. I hold in bubbling laughter when I see a faint spot of red lipstick on her front tooth. Could this have gone any better for me at the moment?
“Long time no see, Jack Bradley,” her voice creaks.
When his name leaves her lips, the hairs on my neck stand up—and not in a good way, like when Jack’s hitting all the right spots while railing me. It’s a gross, uncomfortable, and territorial reaction.
“Yes,” he says. Then, I feel the warmth of his palm on my lower back. “You remember my girlfriend, Piper?”
Sophia gives me another smile, this time looking more fake than the last. “Yes, we met a few weeks ago.”
“We did. It was a pleasant encounter, wasn’t it? What was it that we talked about?” I bring a finger into the air. “Oh yes, you talked about Jack the whole time that I actually questioned whether you had a financé or not,” I spat, turning to the man to her left. “Nice to see that you are, in fact, real.”
Jack tilts his head with a smug look on his face. “She’s a spitfire, isn’t she?” he comments to them but keeps his adoring look on me. His gaze tells me that he wants to rip this dress off me or burst into laughter. Either way, I revel in how we’ve learned to communicate with simple facial expressions.
“You are a sassy one, aren’t you?” Preston insults.
“Don’t patronize me.” I sneer. From the corner of my eye, Sophia and Preston exchange glances before Jack takes his focus away from me and turns to Preston.
“Preston,” Jack says, extending his arm to shake his hand in a polite gesture, but I can tell by the way Jack’s shoulders are tense that he’s struggling to be cordial around this man after their last interaction. Based on what Jack has told me, his hatred toward Preston goes deeper than their previous meeting.
“Hi, sorry our last meeting ended the way it did. I’m sure you know that I’d be a better fit. It’s not personal,” he says with a condescending tone.
I don’t like him already.
“It’s my family’s winery, so that does make it personal,” Jack quips, roughly patting Preston on the shoulder.
He jerks his shoulder away. “It’s business, my friend.”
“We’re not friends.”
I lean into Jack, sensing the exchange between them is headed into hostile territory. Flashing Sophia a side-eye, I rise to my tip toes to whisper in his ear, letting my lips linger on his earlobe, “Let’s grab a drink.”
Jack glances down at me. “Wonderful.”
My focus stays on Jack, but I feel the heat from Sophia’s stare bore into my shoulder blades, almost like a personal branding for her future sabotage.