Chapter 65
Sixty-Five
The second Jacqui’s Beetle putters into the driveway, I’m out the door and hauling her impatiently into my arms, locking my lips with hers. God, I needed this. I take the hit and inhale deeply. It barely dents the surface of my strangled yearning.
We part enough for me to witness her smile broadening. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas.”
“I missed you,” she says, eyes bright.
You don’t know the half of it, baby. “Guess college finals take precedence over me, eh?”
She snorts. “Unfortunately. But I’m trying to forget about those right now.”
I pull her firmly back against my chest. “I’ve got some ideas on how to accomplish that—and I need my fucking fix.”
Pressing my lips back to hers, my tongue probes and claims, and she surrenders eagerly, whimpering into my mouth. Yeah…time to take this inside. Now.
I tug her by the hand into the house, stopping in the kitchen, where my manners force me to ask if she wants a drink.
The words aren’t even out before she drops to her knees and rips open my button fly.
Our eyes connect feverishly as she drags my Levi’s down my hips and wraps her full, supple lips around my stiff cock.
Fuck. Panting, I grip the counter behind me as she devours me, moaning around my dick like she’s been craving sucking me off for days.
“Jax,” I rasp, threading both of my hands in her long hair, taking hold, and thrusting into her. Goddamn. She’s voracious. Desperate. Glorious. And my pelvis goes rogue, feeding her my cock with an unhinged savagery.
Her palms sink into my ass and bring me deeper as she sucks the whole fucking ramrod to the back of her throat like a champ.
“Fuuuuuuuck…” It’s so much pleasure. Intense.
My balls tighten. Thrusts quicken. White light skirts my eyelids. I’m losing control. Hanging by a thread.
An animalistic groan comes straight from my girl.
See ya.
Guttural sounds erupt as I detonate, shooting my release into her mouth and grinding it out until I’m spent. Jax takes it all, swallows it down, and I smile at her in an unfocused, delirious haze.
“Goddamn, woman.”
She beams and licks her lips.
That jumpstarts me from my orgasmic narcosis.
With a fresh burn of need, I help her up and strip her naked.
It’s a sight that never gets old. She lets out a surprised squeak when I swiftly lift her off her feet and place her on the tiled countertop.
Ditching the rest of my clothes, I spread those gorgeous long legs and stand between them, her heat blasting warmth across my abs as our mouths join.
Her arms wrap around me, her fingertips brushing my shoulders.
Our mouths stay connected as I press her flush against the counter, her nipples hardening as they graze my chest. My lips blaze a trail down her neck, sucking on her tender throat.
I palm her breasts, squeezing and fondling before tasting them too.
She writhes beneath me, a garbled succession of moans escaping her, and I know what my needy girl wants.
Our eyes clash—and mine mirror the desire and longing in hers.
My mouth latches onto her taut nipple, sucking and licking the entire areola as I push two fingers inside this pussy I could map by heart. She’s fucking soaked, and my groan erupts around her flesh. Jax’s eyes widen, her lips parted as little noises of pleasure leave her like musical notes.
Ohhhh. Unghh. Ahhhh.
They are my favorite sounds.
And those sounds shift into heavy breaths as I fuck her with my fingers and my teeth graze over her nipple before soothing it with my tongue.
Jax spreads her legs wider, offering all of herself to me. She’s panting, begging, bucking, and it’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever witnessed.
Yes, baby. My lips trail over her shuddering abdomen and lower.
For a few seconds, I’m mesmerized by my fingers plunging into her and coming out drenched with her essence.
Her begging intensifies, and I aim to please.
Unearthing that vibrating clitoris, I lick and tease, humming with gratification.
She won’t last long now. Jax loves to be fingered and sucked at once, and she’s so fucking primed, I’m already hard as a rock and ready to roll again.
She falls silent, her hips bucking faster and higher, and I ride my wild mustang like a goddamn cowboy.
She orgasms with a loud cry, her pelvis jerking with near violent reverberations.
Desperate to feel those squeezing my cock, I haul my dazed girl to the floor, spin her toward the counter, and enter her roughly from behind.
A growl rips from my throat. Oh. Fuck. Yes. Her pussy is a silken treasure and those vise-like pulses around my dick and her fresh moans of approval only stoke my raging inferno. This is fucking sublime. There is nothing better than this. Nothing.
“Fuuuuuck,” I rasp. “Your pussy squeezes me like it’s never letting go.”
I never want her to let go.
My strokes turn deep, each one a declaration. Mine. Mine. Mine.
“Fuck me, Mick. Fuck me hard.”
Her words are galvanizing, and I drive into her forcefully, asserting my command of this woman while succumbing to hers over me—and we’re both chasing the high.
Mine. Mine. Mine.
Claiming her this way, our centers fusing as she braces against the counter, receiving me, asking for it, begging me to fill her…it’s all encompassing. She fills me. In every possible way.
“Goddamn, you’re perfect,” I grunt out, stars skirting my vision.
“So…are you,” she husks.
My strokes come faster, more frenzied as the intensity skyrockets, my heartbeat in the stratosphere. I erupt like a volcano, exploding with force, the endorphins flowing and blanketing every square inch.
Holy ever loving fucking shit.
We ride out the aftermath, our breaths ragged. Collapsing over her back, still buried inside her, our sweaty bodies stick like glue. I kiss her spine tenderly, so full of love for this woman, utterly blown away by the sex we just shared.
The ache in my chest lessens. That was one hell of a fix.
We’re all smiles as we clean ourselves up and pull our clothes back on.
Jax arches a brow. “Merry Christmas.”
My grin spans wide. “Christmas came early.” Turning serious, I palm her face, tilting her mouth to mine. “I love you, Jacqui.”
“I don’t think words can adequately express how much I love you, Mick.”
The ache in my chest loosens further. I should probably examine why I thirst for such validation or corroboration, but it never gets old hearing her say it.
We repeat last year’s festivities—dinner out followed by choosing a white pine with leafy boughs we adorn with string lights and decorations. By the light of the Christmas tree, we settle in front of the TV with hot cocoa to watch It’s a Wonderful Life. And right now, it truly is.
When we make our way to bed, the longing—quieter now—propels me to make slow, languid love with my girl before we drop off to sleep, her body spooned tightly into mine.
Shrill ringing jerks me awake.
“This better be good,” I mutter, yanking the phone off its cradle. A glance out the oversized windows facing the ocean tells me what I already know. We should all still be sleeping. By the wisp of light just tinging the sky, dawn is near.
“It’s Sherry,” she says, her voice frantic. “Remy’s missing, and I’m worried. He hasn’t come home. I don’t know where he is, if he’s hurt, or using, or dead, but I can’t sit here one more second by myself and not do…something.”
“Slow down,” I say, sitting upright. “When’s the last time you saw him?”
“Yesterday. We had dinner, hung out for a bit, and then he said he was going to buy cigarettes. It was probably nine o’clock by then.
I offered to go with him, but he said he wanted to take a drive, have some alone time, and promised he’d return soon.
Now here we are. He hasn’t called. Come home. I was about to wake his parents.”
“Yeah, you don’t want to do that.” Unease settles in my veins.
Tension already radiates from Jax, who shifts upright, bracing herself against the headboard with her arms crossed.
“Especially if he’s…if he’s using. I have no idea what they’ll do. But goddamn it, this is—” She lets out a choked sob. “So, he’s not with you, obviously. I knew it was a long shot, but do you have any idea where he is?”
“Nope. Have you tried Vinny?”
“I don’t have his number. I—I’m scared. And stuck here with his parents, trying to hide this.” Her last words come out hoarse. She’s breaking.
“Mm-hmm.” My guts churn, knowing exactly where this conversation is going.
“Mick, this is a big thing to ask, especially on Christmas Eve, but can you help me find him?”
And there it is, the rope I don’t want to catch. I shove a hand through my hair, my insides imploding, suffocating. Jacqui’s stare bores a hole through me, her body language straight-up pissed.
The sun breaks the horizon, light filtering into the loft. “I can try…”
“I’m sorry,” she croaks, sniffling after. “This definitely isn’t your problem, but I don’t know who else to turn to.”
“Yup. Not ideal. But I understand.”
“You’ll call me no matter,” her voice cracks, and I hear her swallow, “what you discover?”
“I’ll let you know as soon as I do.” And now my day is officially fucked. And I’m scared. About telling Jax. About wherever the fuck I may find Remy—if I even can. Is he really dead this time or just being a selfish fuckbag again?
“Thank you. I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry. But please hurry, okay?”
“Mm-hmm. Okay.”
We hang up. I can’t meet the penetrating gaze of the woman I love.
“What?” she asks.
“It’s Remy. He didn’t come home last night and Sherry’s freaking out.”
“And she wants you to track him down?”
Bracing for a fight, I squeeze my eyes shut for a long moment, then nod.
She bristles. “How is this your problem?”
I face her blazing amber glare now, keeping my voice calm and level. “It shouldn’t be, but she doesn’t want Remy’s parents to find out, and she’s out of her mind with worry. She didn’t know who else to turn to.”
Her eyes well, and it skewers me. “It’s Christmas Eve, Mick. This is our time.”
I swallow the thick knot of guilt stuck in my throat. “I know, baby, and I’m sorry.”
“But you’re going.”
My gaze shifts to the floor. “I’ve got to.” He’s my best friend. What if he truly needs my help? As much as I want to tell Sherry this isn’t my problem, I can’t. That’s not who I am.
Jax rips off the covers and stalks around the loft, yanking on clothes, seething. But she doesn’t utter one more word—and it’s deafening.
I watch silently, trying to stem my own resentment over the situation. Jax has every right to be upset. This isn’t what either of us want, especially today. Merry fucking Christmas. With a stifled sigh, I rise from the bed and pull on my jeans.
Jacqui clutches her stuff and hurries down the stairs, and I follow. When she stops short, gaze fixed on our unopened presents under the tree, I wrap my arms around her from behind and bury my head in her hair.
“Don’t leave angry,” I murmur. “Please.”
A sniffle escapes her. “It’s not how I wanted the day to go,” she whispers.
I exhale a long breath. “Same, baby.”
Dropping everything, she turns and sinks into me.
We hold each other so forcefully maybe it will keep us from breaking.
Neither of us wants to let go and with every second, that rope lassoed around my heart tightens…
because I’m responsible for her tears, her angst, her unhappiness. But what else can I do?
Time is of the essence, as we’re viscerally aware. Jacqui’s hands slide to my hips, and I cup her face and kiss her tenderly. It’s a kiss that asks for everything: her forgiveness, patience, understanding. To not hate me. To not leave me.
We part and I stare at her intently. “I’ll call as soon as I can. And I’ll bring the gifts. We’ll open them in Oakland. Maybe you can come over to Mom’s tomorrow? You know she wants to see you.”
She nods. “Be careful, Mick.”