hen Jagger pulls my head around and his mouth takes my lips, the rest of the world bleeds away. It doesn’t matter that we’re on the floor in the entranceway of his condo. It doesn’t matter that my feet are swollen from work and I’m pretty sure that my eyeliner is smudged. All that matters is the staggering electricity I feel whenever he touches me.
And I think if Jagger had his way, he would never stop touching me. His lips are tender while his thumb, his fingers grasp, needily. Greedily.
He kisses me and his hand pulls my dress off my shoulders. He undoes the buttons of my blouse, then runs his fingers over the cups of my bra. Teasing me. Then squeezing the bra hard, right over my nipples. I remember how roughly his hands explored my body in the elevator. How expertly they teased and tormented me to push against him, to lay myself open to his advances.
I open to him now, parting my thighs, urging his hands, begging him with my body.
He slaps my ass again. The sting sets me trembling. And I want it again. I bite my lip, not trusting myself to speak. I want him. There’s no questioning that. I throb for him. The spark between us is more electric than ever.
Jagger doesn’t guide the dress down any further. He doesn’t take off my bra. His hand dips down and trace along the fabric. I tremble in anticipation. On the inside I’m chanting yes, and I’m sure it shows on my face, because Jagger chuckles.
The cool air makes me notice the exposed backs of my thighs. He pulls them wider apart. My knickers, halfway down already, pull and stretch tight. I feel more than hear his cruel chuckle. His fingers slip between my wet folds. His fingertip stops at the base of my clit, pressing it so gently I almost collapse.
“What do we have here?” he muses with his hot breath on my neck. The words sink straight to my core, heat radiates from the inside and makes me scorch for him in shocks from my clit to mi nipples.
But it’s when his finger slips inside, up between my folds and feels my deeper wetness that I can’t take it anymore. I press against his hand, eager for more. He indulges me. It isn’t long before his finger is tracing up and down along my hood.
Those panties are giving way. They aren’t going to make it back to work and if this keeps up, I’m not sure any of my clothes are going to make it, either.
In retaliation, I reach out and let my hand travel to his bulge. I pinch and squeeze the hardening ridge. It’s prominent, pulsing for me. He grunts as I touch him, the sound bottoming out low in his throat and rumbling through his ribs.
“Good girl,” he utters, his words dripping in sex.
My thighs twitch and I instinctively clench them, drawing his hand tighter against my sex. The added pressure is all it takes to send waves of rippling pleasure through me, and before I know it, I’m tumbling over the edge of climax with no way to climb back out.
“Jagger! Oh my god, Jagger!”
I throw back my head as my body tightens for him, and when I do, Jagger’s lips pepper my neck with kisses. The coarseness of his stubble rubs against my sensitive skin. I feel his words when he speaks. “We’re not done yet.”
He parts my clasped thighs with one hand and moves between my legs. His knees hold me open. My hand is forced to part from the outline of his cock when his hand takes its place.
I hear the zip.
He doesn’t ask when he grabs my hips and lifts me up. I respond to him naturally, wrapping my thighs around his waist to try to help. I’m too foggy brained to realize a man as strong as Jagger doesn’t need the help.
Before I know it, the head of his cock bruises my entrance. Even when it brings up the memory of how savagely h stretched me last time, I’m more ready for him than I’ve ever been before.
“God, Alexa,” he breathes. “Do you know how good you feel?”
I can’t answer. He’s leaned over my back. Still on all fours, I’m trembling and shaking so hard I can barely support myself. He pulls my face around and kisses me. I return the kiss and he drives his cock inside of me. It feels like he’s split me and filled me. Like he’ll drill all the way through me. I moan so loudly into his mouth than I’m sure the people two floors down can hear.
He groans against my lips as he slams into me. The back and forth makes me want to weep with joy. I work my body in time with his, lifting my ass and parting my thighs to let him drill deeper. His massive hardness makes me tremble. No matter how many times we do this, I’m always in awe.
My thighs shake, and I spread them as wide as I can. He works into me at a tantalizing pace, each forward thrust sinking him to the hilt. The sex this time isn’t savage, like it was the time before. He treats me like we’re making the most urgent, precious dance in his world. And I’m starting to believe we are.
“Good girl, Alexa,” he rasps against my jaw. I’m panting and gasping, but my moans die in my throat. All for him. “Good girl. Stay quiet.”
As long as he keeps doing the things he’s doing to me, I’ll do whatever he wants.
“Oh my God,” I moan in a whisper. “Jagger, oh my God.”
Our eyes meet. His are wicked and glow with lust, dark pools of want. His mouth is red from kissing me. He’s wild and untamed, but for this moment, I own him just as much as he owns me. I’m shocked at myself. But proud at the same time.
His is a look of raw desire. Of sheer, unadulterated want. And I return it with hot hunger.
And when he hits that spot inside of me that makes my toes curl and drags a desperate cry from all the way down in my core, it’s that look in his eye that shoves me over the edge. I rock myself on his cock as I’m dragged beneath the riptides of a long and gushing orgasm.
I feel him reach the end as I clench and moan, and he floods me with his warmth.
He slams again. And again. And once more, longer, deeper and harder than ever. And we’re spent. I never ached or stung so much, I never before sobbed from an orgasm before and I never felt more complete.
As I lay collapsed and panting, he turns me to him, steals my lips again and kisses me like he can’t get enough. Truth be told, I can’t get enough, either. Even as my lungs scream for air, I kiss him with everything I have. Our bodies still grind together, winding down from the obscene amounts of pleasure we shared.
I don’t know if I’ll be able to stand after this, let alone get back to work.
“You’ll come back tonight, after work,” Jagger instructs. “I need to talk to you.”
“You can’t talk now?” I don’t see why it wouldn’t make sense to have a conversation now. And I’m too breathless to stand.
“There’s not enough time to have the talk now,” he says. He parts from me, pulling my panties back into place and smoothing the twisted mess of my dress. He’s already tucked back into his pants.
A moment later, he’s standing, smartening his shirt cuffs and it’s as if nothing ever passed between us.
My body knows the truth. I’m still twitching from the things he did to me.
“I’ll have dinner waiting,” he tells me. “You’ll come in and relax after a long day at work.”
“Will you have new clothes for me?” I ask playfully. “Because these ones need to be dry cleaned.”
Jagger snorts. “I prefer you without your clothes on, anyway.”
I take that to mean no, but the idea of dinner and relaxation in a place like this after working at the diner is too tempting to turn down.
“I’ll be back after work, then,” I say, unsteady as I try to smooth down my hair. “I get off at eight.”
“I’ll be here,” Jagger tells me. He helps me to my feet, even the touch between our palms is electric. I never want to leave.
I make a detour in his bathroom before I leave, changing out of the wreck of my uniform dress and into clean clothes. Thank heaven I have a spare uniform in my locker at work. I hope it’s somehow cleaner than I remember. When I resolved to take it to be cleaned. Before they cut my hours. I feel intoxicated and goofy. That won’t do. I look in the mirror and give myself a talking to. Well, I try. I tell myself to shape up, but my reflection just snirks back and lifts its chin.
When I exit the bathroom. He’s waiting in the hallway.
I’m still shaky and sensitive. When he takes my hand, the electricity shocks through me again, almost making me stager.
He guides me to the elevator, comes down with me and escorts me though the lobby. He hails a cab for me and hands me some bills. Jagger kisses me goodbye before I climb into the back of the cab, and I feel that excitement inside of him as well. As the cab pulls away I’m still reeling inside and I wonder what he wants to talk about.
If there’s not enough time to talk about it on my lunch break, it must be big. Good big or bad big? Good big, my gut tells me. Something exciting is about to happen.
Good big. It has to be.
Dinner is laid out across Jagger’s solid oak dining room table. He sits at the head and I sit to his right. The table stretches far, long enough to accommodate eight guests. I keep close. I don’t want to be apart.
Gentle music plays in the background, reminiscent of the night I arrived dripping wet. He’s served my favorite wine, and he’s arranged an artful display of sushi on my plate. The cuts of fish are so fine they almost melt on my tongue. I can tell that tonight’s meal was made by an expert chef. Everything is seasoned to perfection.
We make quiet, polite conversation throughout dinner, but when dinner is done, I get to ask the question that’s been on my mind all night. “What did you want to talk about?”
Jagger weaves his fingers together and plants his fists on the table. He looks thoughtful for a moment. Then he looks at me. The weight of the unknown crashes down on my shoulders and excitement swells in my chest like a helium balloon. I feel weightless.
“Alexa,” he says heavily.
“Yes?” I’m burning to know what he wants to ask. My eyes lock on his, but I can’t get a read on what he’s thinking.
“Move in with me. I have a house in Brooklyn. I’m tired of being without you.”
I hesitate. “Can I at least see it?”
It’s news to me that Jagger has a house in Brooklyn. Apartments in New York City are expensive enough. I can’t imagine how many zeroes are on the price tag of a house.
“I’ll show you around when you move in. I’m back from my next set of flights next week.”
Which is squarely when I need to move out. If I say yes to him, that means I’ll need to leave everything to the last minute. If something falls through on his end, I’ll be out on the street.
It’s frightening.
“I have to move out next week,” I tell him, hoping for a solution. “If you show it to me now, I can make plans to move my things in advance. It won’t be so last minute and chaotic.”
“Nothing will be chaotic,” he tells me firmly. “I’m here for you, Alexa. You have nothing to worry about. My house is going to be wonderful for you. You’re going to love it.”
When faced with extreme situations, I’ve done some pretty desperate things, but I’ve never been desperate enough that I’ve moved into a place without seeing it in person. The house belongs to Jagger, and I’m sure that means it must be stunning, but it makes me nervous anyway.
“If we’re going to live together,” I ask him, “why don’t we do it here? The condo is more than big enough for both of us.”
There’s a glint in Jagger’s eyes I can’t read. He picks up his wine glass and swirls his wine slowly, considering it. I watch him.
“You know, it just occurred to me.” Jagger sets the wine glass down with a soft clink. “I never finished the story I started.”
“But the house—”
“Listen to the story, Alexa. Let it fade from your mind. Things are going to be okay, I promise.” He fixes me with an assertive look that twists in my stomach and spirals all the way down to the private depths of my body. “What you need to do now is relax. Let me take control.”
So I sit back and listen. When has Jagger ever led me astray?
I tell myself that I’m on edge. That’s all it is.
“The king was saddened by the failure of the second prince, but once more, he’s glad that his daughter won’t suffer at the hands of a man who would otherwise prove false or lead her astray. True love, the king knows, is eternal. It keeps the heart chaste. And a man as wise and kindly as the king knows that he wants nothing less for his beautiful daughters.”
I sip at my wine as I listen. The story draws me back in right away.
“But the betrayal of the second prince hurts the king in ways he never anticipated. Two of his three daughters are now inconsolable. They pledged their hearts to men who never truly loved them, and now they suffer from the bitter loneliness and stinging regret that comes from deception.”
Every time Jagger tells his stories, he draws on inspiration from what he sees or feels. It strikes a little too close to home. “You mean like me, deciding to trust you?”
“Alexa,” Jagger stresses. “I’m not done with the story yet.”
“I know,” I say, pushing my lips to the side. “But you’re not doing a very good job of convincing me I’m making the right choice, flyboy.”
“Relax and listen. Pass your judgment when I’m done.”
I suck in a breath and nod. It’s pointless to interrupt.
“So the king’s focus changes. He invests the money he would have spent on first two daughters’ wedding on a lavish party, designed to boost their spirits and bring joy to their lives. He hires dancers and musicians, actors and singers, the most talented chefs and the most ambitious event planners. And when all is said and done, the king has a party for his two mourning princesses like none other.”
“Do they enjoy it?” I ask.
“More than anything they can remember.” Jagger looks at me, never letting his gaze wander. “They dance and laugh. They meet friends old and new. They eat delicious foods and drink fabulous wines. And for the first time in what feels like a long time, the king sees his daughters come alive. He knows then in his heart of hearts that both of them will be okay.”
“But they’re only happy because of the party, aren’t they?” I ask. I still haven’t come to a conclusion about Jagger’s sudden choice in housing, or his insistence that I move in without even seeing the house beforehand. “When the last guest leaves, isn’t the sadness going to return?”
“Maybe.” Jagger tilts his wineglass to his lips and sips. “But it won’t stay. The king is wise enough to know that his daughters’ happiness doesn’t come from a party, it’s earned on the twists and turns of life. The king knows that there can never be true happiness without sorrow, but he also knows that for his daughters, there will never be sorrow without happiness. In that moment, he proves to both his ailing daughters that sorrow is only ever fleeting, but so too is happiness. In order to feel either, he tells them as the party winds down, you must be brave enough to take a risk. You must be brave enough to fail.”
I part my lips, but I can’t think of any way to disprove what he says. The message strikes a deep place inside of me and gives me the courage I need to make my decision.
“But what about the third prince and princess?” I ask at last.
Jagger gives me an impish look. “Good. I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about him.”
“Of course I wouldn’t!” I cross my arms. “I’ve got a longer attention span than that.”
“And that’s a good thing, because you’re going to have to wait to find out what happens to him and his princess.” Jagger waggles an eyebrow. “That’s as much story as I’m going to give you tonight.”
“Jagger!”
“What can I say?” he takes another sip of wine. “Good things come to those who wait.”
I hear the double meaning in his words loud and clear. That man’s tongue drives me absolutely crazy.