CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CAYLEE
––––––––
I feel like I’m floating on a cloud.
A sexy cloud.
Jake turns me in the shower, his hard muscular body pressing against mine as his fingers slide between my legs and he kisses my neck. He hasn’t shaved for over a day, and it's rough and sexy.
“Jake,” I moan.
“Shh, I’m playing,” he rasps.
“You’ve been playing for over three hours. Stupid movie. Stupid dinner,” I moan, pressing into his fingers.
He chuckles.
Wear a dress, he said. Don’t wear panties.
I don’t know what I thought was going to happen but sitting in a movie theater while he slides a tiny vibrator inside me, removing it just as I was about to come.
Over and over.
And over again.
That was not it.
I do have to give him credit for combining sex and a date all in one.
If you can call it sex when you don’t get to finish.
I don’t.
I just don’t know who to complain to.
“Jake.”
His sexy laugh against my neck is not doing anything to help. I try to turn in his arms, but he’s too strong, and that makes him even sexier to me.
Ugh.
I close my eyes, trying to focus as he circles my clit.
Think.
Suddenly they flick open, and my bottom presses back into his hard cock. “God, when you get inside me, I’m going to be so wet and clamp onto you.”
Groan.
I grin.
“Let me ride you, Jake, so you go really deep.”
“I know what you’re doing.” He plunges his fingers inside me.
Good Lord, we are driving one another insane.
I cry out, my breasts pushing forward as I loop an arm around his neck behind me.
“Fuck me, Jake. I want your cum dripping out of me.”
“Jesus.”
The water stops. I’m lifted, soaking wet—in all ways—into his arms, and he almost kicks the glass door of my shower open.
Then he sits on the bed, lies back, and I climb on top of him. The chill of the air on my wet skin feels cold, but I don’t care.
“Climb on.” Taking his long, erect cock in his hands, Jake grips my hip and encourages me over him.
“You’re a monster,” I say, lining myself over him as I snap on a condom.
He smirks.
God, he’s handsome. With his sopping wet hair, wild looking eyes and long lashes, I don’t know how I can go an hour without kissing this man.
When the head of his cock slips inside me, we both moan.
“Jesus,” Jake takes control, gripping both my hips as his lips part eagerly. “That’s a girl, let me fill you completely.”
My palms land on his pecs, our eyes snapping together as the length of him hits the back of my pussy.
“Fuck me.” He moans. “You’re so fucking tight.”
I start to move, my nerves sensitive as hell after hours of teasing. Up and down I lift, clutching the thickness of his shaft.
I could come right now.
But I’m going to savor this as long as I can.
Jake has other plans. He speeds up my movements, bouncing me, slamming in harder but thrusting up inside me.
“Caylee. Shit. Fuck your pussy is the best thing ever.”
Not the compliment most women are after, but I’ll take it.
“Jesus, fuck.”
Slam, slam, slam.
Then his biceps bulge as he lifts me, flips me onto my knees and buries himself inside me again. Doggy style.
“Face in the pillow, baby,” he orders and just in time, because he goes hard. Thrusting harder than I’ve felt before, his cock taking no prisoners as he groans. “All mine, this pussy is all fucking mine.”
My face turns to fire as his possessive words rush through me. I’ve never heard Jake talk like this before.
Does he want more than something casual? Like me? Or is this just dirty sex talk?
Now that we are dating and getting closer, I want more. I want a lot more. Things are going so much better than I thought they would.
I can’t wait to meet his parents next weekend at the party. Hopefully, that will give him the confidence to take things to the next level.
Cupping my breast and tweaking my nipple, Jake slides his hand between my legs, and that’s all it takes.
“Jake. Oh god. Yes, more.”
I feel his cock swell, and we both fall over the edge, coming together and collapsing into a still-sort-of-wet pile on the bed.
Panting, he kisses me, tugging me against him.
“I could do that every night forever and be a happy man.”
He does.
He wants this.
Men don’t just say things like that.
“I would die if you made me wait that long every day,” I playfully moan against his lips, feeling giddy.
His grin is naughty when he tugs me even closer.
I am so falling for this man.
THE NEXT MORNING, Saturday, I’m sitting on Jake’s knee watching playful birds fly across the yard. The sun’s high in the sky as we slept in.
I nibble on some sourdough bread toast.
“Was that car here last night?” I lean forward, trying to see who is inside the white vehicle, but it’s impossible due to the dark windows.
“Nope,”
Crunch, crunch, crunch.
His crumbs fall on my breasts, and he brushes them off with a grin.
Idiot.
“Oops, sorry,” he tugs my bra off and sucks one of my nipples. “There, got it all.”
Lovely idiot.
I glance at the car again and shrug. If anyone is going to spot something untoward and worry about it, Jake will.
He doesn’t seem concerned, so I let it go.
“Okay baby, go pack a bag. We’re staying at my place tonight. I’ve hardly been home.” Jake reminds me.
I leap up, excited to see where he lives and how he lives. I see a bachelor pad but keep my thoughts to myself.
I’m thrilled he’s letting me step into his world.
“Do I need to take cleaning products with me?” I say, not able to help myself.
“I’m offended.” Jake stands, licks his fingers and places his empty plate on the kitchen bench.
“But?”
“But you’ll have to wait and see. Now go get ready, or I will tear off those panties and torture you some more.”
My lips stretch into a smile as I bite the tip of my fingernail, hoping he gets the hint.
His brows arch.
Then he chases me into the bedroom, and it takes two more hours for us to get to his place.
When we arrive, I’m very surprised to see a modest three-bedroom home with two clean bathrooms, a hot tub out back and a fenced yard. He must have a cleaner as all the towels smell fresh, the kitchen is spotless and the lawns mowed.
There’s no way he had time to do all that this week.
Then again, as he said, he’s been at my place almost the entire week.
“So,” I say, flopping down on the gray sofa. “What are you making for dinner, and have your parents confirmed they’re coming next Friday?”
“That’s two questions.”
“Start with the latter.”
“A few of the crew I work with are coming. Not sure about the folks. They haven’t confirmed, so I’ll follow up.”
My face falls, and Jake watches me with an unreadable expression.
I hate that he’s so good at that.
“I want to meet them.”
“You will.” He leans against the kitchen bench and crosses his arms.
Why don’t I believe him?