33. Maisy
33
MAISY
I go straight from the airport to Jensen’s house, dragging my suitcase into his bedroom, intent on washing off the travel grime before surprising him at Bruno’s. The bar won’t open for a couple of hours, and this will be our only opportunity to be alone before he gets off work later tonight.
The shower’s running, and I’m kicking off my shoes when he appears in the bathroom. How does he find me before I can even take a breath in Walford?
“I haven’t heard from you in days,” he says. Not a hello or I missed you or anything remotely welcoming.
Taken aback by his stern tone, I go into defensive mode, locking away my emotions. I give him my back and peel off my shirt. “You’re not my keeper, Jensen.”
“I’m not trying to be your keeper. I just want to be kept in the loop.”
I scoff and toss the shirt aside. “If you can’t be less needy, this is never gonna work.”
“Then need me !” he yells, the running water stifling the echo.
When I get my jeans off, I sling them to the tile with force. “I don’t know what your problem is, but I won’t continue this conversation until you calm down.”
“We’re having this conversation now. You blew me off for two days. No call, no text, no signs of life. We talked about this, Maisy. You said you’d try.”
“This is me trying.” My bra falls to the floor, landing on the growing pile of clothes.
“Try harder.”
Fingers frozen at the waistband of my panties, I turn to face Jensen. His features tighten into a scowl, the crease between his eyebrows severe. I know I’m in the wrong. My impromptu trip to California to hang out with my friends didn’t require his blessing or approval, but that’s not why he’s upset. He’s pissed because I didn’t reach out to him once I got to Graham and Miguel’s house, but I had my reasons.
Before we blow up at each other because I’m too stubborn to back down or apologize, I attempt to explain myself. “For most of my twenties, every move I made was planned down to the minute. I didn’t have to check in with anyone because, if my friends weren’t in the room with me, they knew where to find me. All of that changed in a matter of months after Tate’s career ended. I’m still learning to navigate being on my own. We all are. Marcus is struggling because he’s such a control freak, so I’ve appeased him by not taking away his access to my calendar or location.”
Jensen visibly tenses, so I explain my and Marcus’s friendship dynamic: coworkers who became like siblings. I don’t want him to get the wrong idea about us.
“I never felt like I was being controlled, but I realize now that I didn’t have many freedoms. I forgot what it’s like to do whatever I want without asking for permission or answering to someone.”
He erases the distance between us and cups my face in his hands. Anguish gleams in his tired eyes. “I don’t expect you to answer to me. All I’m asking is for you to remember that I’m here. To remind me that I matter to you. Send me a text to say good morning or make plans with me. Give me something to look forward to besides the unknown.”
His request is reasonable, especially after our last conversation on this topic. I promised to communicate, but I disregarded his feelings by purposely failing to put in the effort.
Understanding his point of view, I nod and say, “I can do that.”
With him being closer, I brush the hair off his forehead. Rising on my tiptoes, I press my lips to his and pass along apology and reassurance. His shoulders loosen when he sighs into my mouth.
“You frustrate me,” he mumbles.
In a daring move, I rub a hand along his crotch and lick my lips. “Let me make it up to you.”
He pulls his head back and searches my eyes to find out if I’m serious. I am. “You have no idea what you’re asking. Trust me, you can’t handle it.”
“I can,” I say with confidence.
The noticeable switch in his demeanor from doubtful to dominant fills my head with giddy lust. “We’ll see about that. Get on your knees.”
I gesture over my shoulder. “The water?—”
“On your knees, birdie.”
Doubt nudges me before I hold his stare and sink to my knees on the rug while he undoes his belt and jeans. He frees his thick erection and strokes it right in front of my face.
“Put your hands behind your back and open that pretty mouth as wide as you can.”
With my hands clasped at my lower back, I follow his orders and widen my jaw. He guides his cock between my teeth and along my tongue, but he stops short of hitting my throat. My belly flutters from being trapped in his heated gaze as he drinks in my submissive form.
“Is this what you want? Your mouth full of my big cock?” he asks, towering above me.
I nod once and flex my tongue along the underside of his shaft. He gasps, surprised by my bold taunt, and thrusts once in response. With my mouth stuffed, I drag air through my nose, nostrils flaring with each inhale. The steam from the shower clings to my skin, which feels as damp as my panties.
He trails a thumb from my temple to my bottom lip stretched around him. “You’re so beautiful like this. So tempting. I can’t decide if I should punish you or reward you.”
My eager moan puts a smirk on his face, and I squeeze my thighs together in anticipation of good things to come. Which is why I’m surprised when he pulls out of my mouth.
“I choose punishment,” he says, tucking himself into his jeans and righting his clothes.
Gawking at him from my spot on the floor, I ask, “What the hell, Jensen?”
“I need to get back to work, but don’t worry. Tonight I’ll finish what I started.” He winks and saunters away with a cocky swagger in every step.
“You’re infuriating!” I shout as he disappears through the doorway.
“Same!” he shouts back. His laughter fades the farther away he gets.
Grinning, I step into the cold shower. But the lighthearted moment dies when I recall the bags under his eyes and his messy hair. He should never have to suffer because of me. I behaved selfishly without considering the consequences. So I make a silent promise to never be the reason he loses sleep again.