14. Iron Jack
IRON JACK
I’ve got her.
My bike is a few steps deeper into the shadows. I can make out the low gleam of the polished chrome glinting from the feeble light from the distant parking lot.
I whirl Greta’s body around so that her back is to my chest. I keep my hand inside her panties. Then we walk together toward the Harley.
I bend her over. “Be as loud as you want, Little G. No one will hear you over the party.”
Her breath is low and fast. Her elbows brace on the seat of the bike.
I keep one hand busy, two fingers inside her as I lower her jeans.
Her head falls forward. “How…is…this…possible?” Her words are all gasps.
“Biology.” I hook a thumb in the narrow band of her panties and ease them down, letting my palm skim over her smooth thigh, the bump of her knee, and a long shin. I don’t need them off her entirely, so I let them bunch up at her ankles.
Lord, but she has long miracle legs. I wish I had more light. Next time.
I could have waited for a bed, a proper night together.
But I want to test her mettle. Shock her a little. Nothing ordinary.
“Jeeeeeesus, Jack,” she says.
“I’m going to put on a condom now,” I say. “Then brace yourself.”
“For you?” There’s a shake in her voice. She hasn’t been handled properly. Fucking stupid husband. He was probably a bump and roll over kind of asshole.
“Mmm-hmm.” I flop open the rear bag on the bike with the hand that isn’t still inside her and extract a long string of condoms. I rip one off with my teeth.
I open the package the same way, then it’s quick work to get it on. I’m hard as fuck for her.
I draw in a breath. Complete control, Jack. This is all about her. Keep your jizz in line.
My fingers slide more deeply inside her, looking for new ground. Her body vibrates against my hand.
I lean close to her ear. “You are so deliciously responsive to me.” I twist my fingers, and she sucks in a breath, then lets out a long, keening cry.
She’s so damn wet. I kick her legs as wide as the jeans will let her go and slide right inside her, shifting my hand to that swollen bud on the edge.
“Fuuuuuuck,” she says. “Oh, my God.”
I want to slam into her, make it so rough we both dissolve into dust. But I won’t. Not yet. We have to work up to that.
She’s going to love it, though. I can tell she’s itching to get buck wild.
I hold one of her hips as I keep easing farther in.
“There’s more?” she asks, breathing hard, her body still pulsing against my palm.
“You’re taking it like a good girl,” I tell her. “But there is so much more.”
When I’m finally flush against her, I hold it there, slowing down my fingers, letting her have a small breather.
Her body relaxes, the gasps coming slower. She lifts her head, and her red hair cascades down her back in the dark.
Just as she seems ready to say something, I pull back, almost all the way out. My hand goes still against her slick, well-worked flesh.
I wait a beat, then another.
Then I slam inside her, doubling down on the motion on her clit.
She lets out a cry, collapsing against the seat, a long, jittering moan coming out of her.
I smile, not giving her a moment’s ease, thrusting into her again and again. My fingers clutch at her hip, holding her in place.
The urge to spill into her is strong, but I set it aside, wanting to sear this moment into her memory. I want her waking in the night, quaking with the need of it again.
I want her to know she can’t live without it.
I release her hip and slide my hand up her shirt. Her naked breast sways right into my palm, and I clasp it, pinching the nipple.
Her moan turns into a sob, and she’s over the top completely, crying out loud in racking sobs, lost, completely undone.
I don’t expect this turn, although I’ve heard it happens to a certain kind of woman, one who isn’t used to letting herself go.
I slow down, withdrawing both hands to wrap my arms around her middle. I press my mouth against her neck. “You okay?”
She sucks in a shuddering breath. “Okay? I think you sent me straight into some other universe.”
She’s okay. I let out a sigh of my own. “Should we bring this home?”
“Can I turn around and see you when you come in me?”
Fuck yeah, she can. I pull out for a moment. She steps aside, kicking off her sneakers and pulling the jeans and panties the rest of the way off. Then she surprises me by pulling her shirt over her head and draping it over the handlebars.
The light is low, and I can only see the random shadows of her shape. She turns to me, and I catch a glint of light in her eyes.
“Hold on a sec,” I tell her and open my bag again. There’s a pack of matches there. I pull one from the box and scrape it on the side.
The blue flame flares, then settles in with yellow gold. I hold it up, moving it close to her body.
The light dances across her long neck, her collar bone, and teases along the fullness of her breasts. I touch them both, gently this time, my thumb crossing over each tight nipple.
“Fucking gorgeous,” I tell her.
I bring the dying match down to the level of her belly button and the tiny thatch of hair below it. I kneel before her and lift her knee to rest her leg on my shoulder right as the burning flame snuffs against my skin.
I peer up at her, a shadow again. “I think I need to worship this a little longer.”
My mouth goes straight to that patch of hair I got so briefly acquainted with in the light of the match. I press my face harder against her and slide my tongue along the entire length of the seam until it rests on that nub.
I suck hard on it, drawing it into my mouth.
Greta draws in a sharp breath, steadying herself with a hand on my head. “Jack! Again?”
“Mmmm-hmmm,” I say, gripping the thigh on my shoulder and spreading it wider. I bury my face there, warm and slick and delicious.
“Jack, Jack. God. It’s too much.”
I keep going, revisiting all the places I touched and can now taste. Her muscles begin to clench again. She’s close. I won’t torture her much longer.
I pulse my tongue against her, feeling the vibrations in her body grow and spread. Then I stand up, lifting her into the air by the ass and sliding her body down right on my cock.
Her arms wrap around my neck. “Oh, shit! Jack!”
I hold on to her sweet ass and lift her up, then slam her back down.
“Oh my God. Jack!”
She was close enough that this is the finish. I feel her body tightening against me. Fuck, this is good. Fuck, fuck.
I bring her up and down and up and down, then fuuuuuck, I hold her body tightly against mine as I empty into her.
She hangs on, her face in my hair, breathing into my ear. She’s crying again, I can tell by the wetness on my temple.
The euphoria of being buried inside her gives way to something tender. I wrap both arms around her back, holding her close. She’s like a forest sprite, naked and warm and perfect.
The rush of emotion I’m feeling is unexpected. I’m hot and prickly inside, raging and protective, and fuck all if I’m letting her go for one single mother-fucking second.
But she’s a city girl, a business woman, a mother. I can’t tie her to my bed.
I’ll have to do this carefully.
I want to touch all of her, and so I do what I can, my hand wandering her skin from neck, to spine, to the beautiful curve of her ass. I want to lay her down, take in every inch in the sunlight.
But it’s a winter night, and her skin is cooling.
I have to let her get dressed and warm.
I lower her legs. “Let’s get your clothes on before you catch a cold.”
She stays pressed against me for a while longer after her feet hit the ground. Then she pulls away. “Iron Jack, you’re full of surprises.” She finds her panties glowing in the dark and pulls them on.
I slide the condom off and shove it into a wad of Kleenex in my bag. “So are you, city girl.”
I watch her put on her clothes, but I don’t return her bra. Maybe later.
But for now, I can’t let go of anything that’s hers.
“Sleep with me tonight?” I ask her.
She pulls her top over her head and shakes out her hair. “You got more where that came from?”
I drag her against me. “I am going to do unspeakable things to you for days.”
Her eyes catch a spark of light. “I’m in.”