Jet

“Puberty hit early. I was tall and fairly developed by sixteen. Born with a face like mine, my mama warned me to be leery of girls and their intentions because I was bound to attract the good and bad. As much as I could appreciate a good girl, the bad girls were a lot more fun.”

That was then.

This is now.

I rub Hannah’s thigh. She’s a good girl in a bad girl’s body. Pure sin and sweetness. Cinnamon. Fuck, I’m horny.

A bottle cap nails me in the neck. Tulsa. Little fucker. He finishes his beer and makes a joke. “He only asked how tall you were, bro. And while we’re on the subject of you. You were an asshole growing up and let’s talk about that ‘fairly developed’ part.” He chuckles when he does the air quotes.

Dex is still laughing when he says, “Damn, you guys are rough.”

Rivers can sling a comeback, but he’s more Switzerland lately. He’s spread out on a chair, kicked back. “You have any siblings, Dex?”

He seems to mull it over before answering. “I have a half-brother. He’s an asshole but not the good kind like yours.” Standing up, the sticks are stilled. “I’m off. Just a word of warning. Johnny likes to start before lunch. I wouldn’t get too wasted or stay up all night.”

“What time do you think we should head to the house?” I ask.

“I’ll be up around ten. I need to eat before spending hours in the studio.” His gaze shifts to Tulsa. “What do you prefer—guitar or drums?”

“I’m more comfortable on the guitar.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Tulsa sits up. “I’m okay with either.”

“If you’re okay with either, then why haven’t you been hitting the skins?”

I’ve never made him stick to the drums. Doesn’t mean he wasn’t talented, but this was always a democracy. “He was free to do what he wanted as long as we were covered for the shows.”

Dex shoots me a look before returning his attention to Tulsa. “You have talent, Tulsa. The arrangement of your band is on the agenda to discuss tomorrow. It’s up to you which instrument you want to play, but we need to know in the morning.”

Tulsa can be hot-headed, spontaneous, and more stubborn than a mule, but I see how much he values Dex’s opinion when he asks, “What do you think I should choose?”

Dex doesn’t hesitate to respond. “I’d like to see you continue drumming. You have good rhythm and you’re strong, but you’re wearing out. There’s fading at the end of each song you played. You’re getting tired and slowing the tempo. You may not notice, but Rivers and Jet are slowing to meet the beat. Drumming doesn’t work like that. I can teach you some patterns, and we can increase your striking speed with practice, get you in the gym and make you stronger with more endurance.” He opens the door to the guesthouse and adds, “Good skills to have all around. Good night.”

When the door closes, we all crack up except for Tulsa who says, “Trust me, nobody’s complaining about my rhythm, speed, or endurance. I’m going to bed. I have a feeling when Dex says teach he means torture.” He’s the first to stand followed by Rivers and Hannah.

Hannah offers a hand. I say, “Like you can pull me up, little thing.”

“Let me try.”

I take her hand and pull her onto my lap. “That worked out nicely.” Rolling her eyes, she pushes off me with a laugh. I’m quick to add, “Guess size does matter.”

“I won’t argue with you there. C’mon, big boy. Take me to bed and have your wild way with me.”

That’s an invitation if I ever heard one. I grab the walkie-talkie and scoop her into my arms before we start for the stairs. “Night, guys.”

Their good night is heard faintly in the distance as I run up the stairs. She says, “You’re the one doing all the work, but I’m the one out of breath.”

“I’ve stunned you. It happens. It’s not the first time.”

I’m whacked on my arm. “God, you’re so arrogant.”

“Remember what I said about calling me God. Jet will do.” Her head leans against my chest as she laughs. As much as I want to carry her to bed, I have to set her down. Whispering, I say, “I’m going to check on Alfie first.”

Taking my hand, she says, “I want to come too.”

When I open the door, I walk in after Hannah, my eyes slow to adjust to the low light. The nightlight helps guide us to his bed where we stand together watching him sleep. Hannah leans against me, her head resting on my arm. I tuck the blanket under his chin like at home and make sure no feet are hanging out. I also check to make sure the walkie-talkie is working.

He’s not a baby, but we’re in a strange place, and I was worried he might get scared. Holli brought us walkie-talkies to use. Alfie said he felt better knowing he could contact me if he got too scared to come two doors down. The upstairs master bedroom was the only room with a king-size bed and only a large walk-in closet separates our rooms.

Watching him now, I see he looks peacefully asleep, so we quietly leave. I shut the door behind me as Hannah takes the walkie-talkie from me, sets it on the nightstand, and walks back to the end of the bed. Sitting down on the edge, she glides her hands over the blanket on either side of her. “So this is where you’re going to have your way with me?”

“We have a shower if you prefer, or a marble bathroom counter I can bend you over.” I nod toward the couch. “There’s another option, Ms. Nichols. Choose anywhere you like.”

“Is the door locked?”

I reach behind me and turn the lock. “Yes.”

“Come here.”

“No.”

Her eyebrows rise. “No?”

Shaking my head, the left side of my mouth lifts. “Take off your clothes.”

Her lips barely part, but I see the smallest of space between them as her chest pushes out and slowly retreats again. I can hear her breath deepen and then her tongue dips out—wet, ready, and teasing. Crossing her arms in front of her, she reaches for the hem of her shirt and pulls it off. I’m not a guy who needs sexy lingerie to get off. The basic beige bra is just as erotic. The way her tits are pushed together and how they spill just over the top draws me to them, and to her.

I resist, wanting to enjoy the show first.

Taking off her shoes and pulling down her jeans, she steps out of them and stands before me and then spins once around for me. “Is this what you want to see?”

That ass. It sits high and tight, making me want to fucking bite it. “Not quite.”

Both hands fly to her hips, those hips that curve out like the bottom of an hourglass. “What do you want?”

“You.”

“You have me, Jet. I’m right here.”

Quirking an eyebrow, I take this opportunity she’s handing me on a silver platter. “I can have you?”

“You have me.”

“Any way I want?”

Reaching behind her back, she loosens her bra and starts sliding the straps down her arms until it joins the rest of her clothes on the floor. The little strips of lace wrapped around those luscious hips glide down next. She eyes me up and down, raising her own eyebrow. “Are you going to stand there and gawk or come and get what’s yours for the taking?”

I don’t need to be asked twice. “Turn around and put the palms of your hands on the bed.” She doesn’t hesitate, and even takes it a step further by sliding forward just until her tits touch but are pressed against the blanket.

My jeans are becoming painfully tight. I take my belt off, pulling it through the loops. I toss it behind me. I’ve never been into spanking. I’ll do it if a chick wants it, but I don’t get off on it.

I’m thinking about fucking her right now. I can just drop my jeans. But she’s putting a lot of trust in me positioned like that, so I should make her feel good in return. I strip off what I’m wearing because if she’s naked, I want to be naked with her. Touching her waist, I run my hand along the curve. “If you’re mine for the taking, can I take you like this?”

Resting on her elbows, she keeps her eyes forward. “I’m getting cold. Touch me. Cover me. Take me. Fuck me, Jet. Just fill me. Please.”

“Such a dirty fucking mouth. Do you know how much that mouth of yours turns me on?”

Her voice lower, her eyes on the pillow just out of reach. “How much?”

“Almost enough to make me want to fuck it first.”

“Do it.”

“No, you’re not running this show, baby. I am.” Dragging my hand slowly down her spine and lower, I stop when I reach between her legs and find her wet and ready for me. “So damn sexy.” I coat my cock with her slickness and position my erection just as I remember I’m not covered. “Fuck, I forgot a condom. Stay right there, baby.”

She giggles. “You don’t need one.”

I’m about to go rummage through my suitcase to find my Ziploc full of bathroom stuff, but I pause instead. “Really?”

Looking back, she says, “Really.”

“You have birth control?”

“I take the pill.” She wiggles to get more comfortable. “I’d really like to move this along if possible.”

It’d be rude to keep the lady waiting. Still positioned where I want to be, I lean over her from behind and slide my hands from her shoulders to her hands, resting my weight on my wrists and legs. I kiss one shoulder and then the other while holding her in place. “You don’t want me to go easy, do you, sweetheart?”

“You know I hate being called swee—

Thrusting, I push myself deep into her supple warmth. Her hands anchor her to the bed, taking every thrust I give while her body begs for more. My eyelids dip closed as I lean back and drive forward.

“Tell me everything you hate while I fuck you, baby.”

“I hate when you call me sweetheart.”

“Why?”

“Because my ex called me that.”

For a guy who earns his living from his great rhythm, mine is thrown off, but only for a millisecond. Can’t let her see me sweat. “What else do you hate?”

Her breaths come out in pants, and she moans. “Um.”

I love that she struggles to focus. Me too. This feels so damn good that I know I’m not going to last much longer. I want her to come with me. “Tell me, Hannah,” I demand.

“I, uh . . .” She drops her head. “Feels so good.” So good. She says, “I hate saying goodbye to you.”

Stopping, I draw back. “Turn over for me.” She scoots up the bed and lies on her back. Her chest is flushed and goose bumps scatter across her skin. I move over her and sink back inside, the heat melding us together. Slowing my pace, I start making love to her.

I kiss her cheek and everywhere else on her face. I stop kissing her neck just long enough to whisper in her ear, “Tell me what you love, wildflower.”

“I love the way I feel whole when we’re like this.”

Kissing her chest, I say, “I feel it. Whole.” Complete.

“I love . . .” She reaches up and holds my cheek in the palm of her hand. “I love you.”

She’s been strong since I met her, even tough sometimes when she had to be, but when she lets you in, you’re all the way in. She exposes her vulnerabilities and opens her heart, not just a little, but wide open to be hurt.

Trust.

This is trust in shades of giving. One of the best gifts she can give me. She’s giving me her heart but doesn’t realize she’s had mine all along. The words don’t seem enough, but they need to be said. They need to be heard. “I love you.”

Her light shines in her eyes from her heart.

Just for me.

I bow my head to my love’s shoulder. Twisting. Tightening. So close. Her breath blows across my ear—mews of pleasure, the pleasure she gets from me. “I love you. I love you. I love . . .” The curve at the base of her neck takes my final breath as I grind out my orgasm, releasing all of me with a harsh exhale. “You.”

The tips of her fingers dig into my shoulders. Her hold tightens, her head pushing into the pillow behind her. Still caught up in her, I lick the base of her jaw as her body speaks for her—back arching, moans that come from deep within, her fingers weaving into my hair demanding my eyes on her.

When she gives me all of her, I kiss her. I kiss her until her outsides twist with her insides and then back again. Tension escapes her, and we fall, fall, fall back together.

I stay.

I lie on top of her, too weak to move. I lie on top of her, feeling her breath coat my skin like a breeze on the beach. I lie there until her fingers loosen and soothe my body. I lie there while she holds me so tight I can’t leave.

A kiss lands on my neck, and I shift, taking the bulk of my weight off her but leaving enough to still cover her.

I always smoke after sex, and the craving is there in the pit of my stomach, but it doesn’t feel right to leave her. I like this. I love this.

“Jet?” she whispers so quietly, so unsure.

I hate it. “Yeah?” Keeping my eyes off hers to give her enough room to find surety in the space between us again.

“This is real for me.”

Space isn’t needed. Lifting up, I lean over her and then dip my head down, closing my eyes and feeling our cheeks pressed together, feeling us together. I whisper, “It’s always been real for me.” Fuck. I squeeze my eyes, refusing to give into the surfacing emotions I didn’t even know existed until she came along.

Pushing up, I get out of bed because I need to clear my head. I need air. I need a smoke.