Jana

Round three is in the shower.

Jake pins me against the wall and touches me all over until I’m begging for his cock and then he gives me that, hard and fast.

Now we’re lying on the bed, towels lazily wrapped around us. Sort of wrapped. Jake’s trying to get at my breasts and I’m giggling. I’m also not giving up any sort of fight, because the way he touches me is magic.

This moment, right now, is heaven. I will remember this feeling—of being wanted, of being worshiped—for the rest of my life.

“Get on top of me,” he whispers. He gets this look on his face, his eyes half-hooded and his lips flushed, when he has a dirty idea. I’ve seen it three times so far today, and I’m totally ready for a fourth. I straddle his hips and wrap my hand around his erection.

I’m not shaking anymore. I love the feel of him in my hand. And I know what he wants when he asks me to be on top. He wants my tits hanging in his face. I give him that for a minute. Watching his face soften as my nipples brush his lips is thrilling—but I have something else I want to do even more.

I give him butterfly kisses down his neck. He swallows hard as I lick the hollow of his collarbone. My tongue makes him react like that. This is amazing. I move down, exploring his pecs, then the ridges of his abs as he holds still for me. He holds still for me.

I’d pinch myself but I don’t want to wake up.

When I reach the hard plane of his lower abdomen, I slow down. This has always been my favorite part of the male body—well, the male bodies I see on Pinterest. I’ve never been up close and personal with a body like this before in real life. The three guys that came—and went—before Jake were ordinary in every way.

Jake is extraordinary in every way, including his abs.

Using the tip of my tongue, I trace a vein that pops out from the firm skin. Below my chin, his cock pulses, lifting a bit and bumping against me. I can’t resist such an obvious invitation to hold him in my hand again.

“Jana…” He groans and lifts his head as I brush my lips closer to the base of his erection.

“Yes?” I ask innocently.

“You’re killing me.”

“So I should stop?”

He reaches for me and tangles his fingers in my hair. “Suck my cock, woman.”

Since he asked so nicely… I shift lower and give him a chaste little kiss just beneath the thick, pink crown.

I get another groan for that, but when a bead of pre-come appears, and I lick it up, the protest turns to an appreciative shudder and he shuts the hell up.

I still take my time. Torture is a lot of fun when I’m in control.

That first taste gets into my bloodstream, though, and it fires me up. I want all of him in my mouth. I’ve never been hungry for a man like this. I didn’t think it was possible to need something as strongly as I want to suck on him in this moment.

I’m really torturing both of us as I lick around the head, pointing the tip of my tongue at the delicate tissue underneath. Cosmo articles are flashing through my mind. “How to Drive Him Wild In Three Easy Steps.”

I shift my balance so I can get both hands involved. One around his erection, the other free to play. I touch his abs, his legs. The crease between his thigh and his balls, and then I cup his sac as I finally open my mouth around him and slide him along my tongue.

He gets even bigger, even harder, as I start to move.

His hands tighten in my hair, and he urges me on. Faster, deeper. Deeper. God, that makes me wet again. The scent of him explodes at the back of my mouth and turns me into a lust-crazed blow-job pro. It gets sloppy and desperate, and it’s so good—for both of us—that I think I could write my own magazine article. How to Thrill a Billionaire—In the Bedroom!

I start to giggle, which throws me off my rhythm and Jake thrusts into my mouth at the wrong moment, making me gag a little, but I recover like a champ and he doesn’t even know.

More tips flood to the front of my mind. He likes the hand twist as I bob up and down. He loves a quick double-suck when I’m as low as I can go. And he love-hates it when I pull off, a string of saliva connecting the tip of my tongue to his cock. “Good?” I whisper, making sure my breath brushes his sensitive skin.

He answers by hauling my mouth back onto his cock.

It doesn’t take long to take him the rest of the way. His hips get out of control right at the end, his thighs bunch into hard blocks of muscle, and the words that spill out of his mouth are perfectly filthy.

“Fuck, yes. God, suck me. So good. Fuck. Dirty little mouth. Wanna come on your tongue. Holy shit. Fuck. Yes. Harder. Oh, fuuuuck—”

I swallow every last drop.

“Sorry about making you gag,” he whispers into my hair after he drags me up his body.

Okay, so he knew. Still a champ. I kiss his chest. “No biggie.”

“You could have stopped.”

“Never.”

Whew. I mean that in more ways than one. More ways than are healthy, but whatever. That’s a problem for tomorrow.

I smooth my hand down his side and breathe in the subtle scent of lingering sex. Need to stock up on dirty memories.

“You hungry?” he asks, his eyes still shut.

I yawn. “Maybe. Could use coffee, actually.”

I just want to touch him and lick him and never, ever have to put clothes on.

But we’ve been in bed all afternoon and Starbucks isn’t on the room service menu. Plus I think Jake has to leave soon, and when he tells me that, I want to be wearing clothes. Some kind of armor because I don’t want him to go and I know that’s not an option.

“Not room service coffee,” I say more specifically. “Do you want to walk to Starbucks?”

He opens one eye and grins at me. “I think you do.”

“And you?”

He flips me over and kisses my spine. “I want you up on all fours. Once you come for me, you can get your fancy drink.”

I get a peppermint mocha instead.

Jake gets a cappuccino with an extra shot of espresso in it. He smirks when the barista says she can’t do the extra shot after lunch or she’s up all night. “That’s the plan,” he murmurs, for my ears only. “All night.”

At some point, I’ll need to tell my family I’ve been kidnapped by a billionaire and have no intention of returning to the condo until he returns to his real life.

But right now, I’m on what feels suspiciously like a first date with Jake, and nothing is going to interfere with that.

When we dragged ourselves from bed and got dressed, he didn’t put the suit back on. Instead, he’s wearing dark jeans, a different dress-shirt, and the nicest accessories I’ve ever seen on a guy. Brown leather boots, a similar leather belt, a watch that probably cost more than my car, a cashmere scarf that he totally pulls off, and a fitted wool jacket that he probably could have worn when he came to find me, but I get why he didn’t.

But this guy, who just stepped out of the pages of GQ, held my hand the entire walk to Starbucks.

And now he’s holding out a chair at a private-ish table in the corner.

This is totally a date.

I blush as I sit down.

It doesn’t matter that we’ve had sex a half-dozen times today. It doesn’t matter that he’s licked me everywhere. This is still different. Still kind of terrifying, because sex is sex. Maybe he’s just a fuck-machine—and I’ll take that, don’t get me wrong.

But sitting and having coffee means talking. Testing the waters to see if you want to talk again.

And we’ve already done this, at my door, over packages.

The stakes seemed way lower then.

Because you thought he was the one who might be trying to impress you.

Yeah, I didn’t have that fear any more.

“So, our first date,” he says with a ridiculously charming smile as he sits across from me.

I take a sip of my drink to keep from making an embarrassing happy noise. “Indeed.”

“Not exactly how I thought it might go.”

God, play it cool, Jana. “Oh?” I arch one eyebrow. So not sure I can pull that off, I might just look genuinely confused.

The corners of his mouth twitch. “I meant to keep my clothes on a bit longer than that.”

“Ah. Well, you know, that actually is something I look for in a man. So you’re in luck.”

“Excellent.” He bites his lower lip and I wonder if it’s too soon to go back to the hotel room again. “What else are you looking for?”

Danger. “Uh…” I need to play this cool, but not play it like a game, because I can’t imagine Jake would like that. “It really depends.”

Now it’s his turn to do the eyebrow thing. He pulls it off perfectly.

I take a deep breath, but before I can figure out what to say and how to elaborate, he leans across the table and takes my hand in his.

I look down at our fingers entwined on the table. His are bigger and longer than mine. His skin a bit darker. But there’s nothing about how we’re touching that gives me any insight into how to explain that we’re totally different people in totally different worlds, and that’s kind of crazy.

“If I’m not what you’re looking for,” he says under his breath. “I’d underestimated my—”

“No,” I blurt out. “You definitely tick all of my criteria boxes for dating.”

“Well, that’s a step in the right direction.”

“And you have since we met,” I add, lifting my face so I can look him in the eye. I think this is important to underline.

He holds my gaze. “Dare I ask what they are?”

Whoa. Okay, this feels serious.

First dates shouldn’t be serious, right? I squeeze his fingers with mine, then lean back in my chair and smile.

He smiles back as I scoop some whipped cream with my finger and lick it off.

I hold up my index finger. First point. “Kind to pets. That’s a big deal to me.”

He nods. “Of course. And how are the cats?”

I roll my eyes, but he just holds my gaze. “Oh, you’re serious?”

“Yes.” He laughs. “Did you think I was just asking that as an immediate follow-up to your suggestion that’s a good way to impress you?”

“I think if you knew more about my dating track record, you’d totally understand my doubt.”

“I don’t want to know anything about your dating track record. But rest assured, it wouldn’t occur to me to ask after a kitten as a way of getting into your pants.”

That’s the right answer, but I can’t help but be honest anyway. “It would probably work. I’ve recently discovered I’m easy.”

He leans forward again and swipes some of my whipped cream.

“Hey, get your own!”

He grins as he licks off his finger. Two can play the teasing game. “What else?”

I blush and keep counting. “Tall. Funny.”

He nods, exaggerating his understanding, and I laugh at him.

But the next point makes him blush. “Well…hung.”

There’s a correlating point, but I’m not telling Jake that the perfect man would like to go down on me. All that matters is that he does and he is in fact perfect.

“And…gainfully employed. That’s my last requirement. But like in a doesn’t-live-with-his-mother kind of way. No appears-on-CNN requirement.”

“Too bad for me.” He gives me a burning look that steals my breath. “That would narrow the list of guys I’d have to compete with for you.”

Oh. I can’t look away. I don’t want to. “You’re not competing with anyone.”

We finish our coffee just like that, looking at each other. As far as first dates go, it kind of skipped some steps, but then I’ve never had a first date that followed hours of sex and weeks of ache, either.

When we step outside, it feels right to slide my fingers back though Jake’s. And when he points at a restaurant across the way, and I tip my face up to look at him, he says, “Or maybe takeout?” at exactly the same time I do.

We share a secret smile. Yes, maybe takeout.

We place our order, then he tugs me out of the way of the door and leans against a wood-paneled wall. I fold into his side like this was something we did. A couple, waiting for food.

He plays with my hair, his fingers lazily brushing a few strands off my face, then letting them fall again so he can repeat the gesture.

We wait in silence for a few minutes, and it’s comfortable. Nice. But something is on his mind. He keeps looking at me like he wants to say something. And then he does. “Come to New York soon.”

My head starts to spin. “I’m going to be there next week for work.”

“Yeah?” He leans in and brushes his fingers over my cheek before he cups my jaw. The dizziness increases as he leans in and kisses me, his lips soft and persuasive. “Say you’ll stay with me.”

“I’ll stay with you,” I whisper.

I feel like Alice through the looking glass. How is this my life?