Jake
“Lane, I need a favor,” I yelled into my dash Bluetooth.
“What’s up?”
“I hate asking. I’m trying to do shit on my own, but I’m seeing that girl—woman—the one I told you about. Someone broke into her place and tore the shit out of it, and now she’s living in my rental like I wanted, but—”
“Say no more,” Lane said, cutting in. “I got a guy to look after her.”
“Look, I don’t want you fixing this, bro. I just want the intro. I’m paying for it and dealing with him, but you’re right. She needs eyes on her.”
“I have a guy whose team keeps an eye on AJ, makes sure he keeps his distance from Bess. They’re good. Not cheap, but worth it.”
“Text me their number. Let them know I’ll be calling.”
“Okay. And Jason?”
I huffed out an exasperated sigh. “You must be about to get all serious. No one has called me Jason since Mom died.”
“You deserve to be happy, Jason. Jake. It doesn’t matter what I call you; you’re my brother.”
“Text me the number, Lane. Leave all the mush to Bess.”
I hurried to the South Hills to Fizzle Squared, checked in with the manager on a few issues, then headed over to Cubed, north of the city. Pleased with the progress Jax and his team had made, I sped back to Oakland and ran on the treadmill for a half hour. I needed to blow off some aggression.
As my feet pounded the belt, sweat poured down my back, soaking my tank, and music pounded in my ears. Heavy, dark lyrics rained into my brain, which probably wasn’t smart. I was wound up, more than tense. I should probably be listening to Enya or some New Age junk. At the moment, I was so keyed up, the only thing keeping me calm was the call I’d made to the private investigator. He was going to put someone right on it. They’d keep an eye on my rental, tail Aly, and keep a lookout.
When the thirty minutes were up, I hopped off, even though I could have stayed on for hours. After quickly showering and changing, I called the pizza shop I liked to splurge on and ordered a large pie. On my way to pick it up, I stopped for a bottle of wine. I was about to head straight to the rental at that point, but then realized there were no wineglasses or plates there, so I stopped to pick up some of those too.
Finally at the door, I debated letting myself in, but then decided against it. This was Aly’s place now. I knocked once, twice, before I rang the bell.
“Who’s there?” she called.
“Me with food.”
I sounded like an idiot. I didn’t know how to do this. Up until a few months ago, I was a fuck-and-run kind of guy. Now I was rescuing girls, hiring private detectives, baring my soul, and picking up pizza for dinner.
The lock unclicked and when the door opened wide, Aly stood there wearing a big T-shirt and leggings.
“Pizza?” She looked at me with an eyebrow raised.
“Hey, I can still have a good time.”
“Oh, good, you remembered plates. There’s nothing in the kitchen, obviously. Tomorrow, I’m going to stop at the store.”
Carrying the pizza in one hand and a bag with the wine and dishware in the other, I made my way into the kitchen. “Want me to drive you?”
“No. No thanks. I’ve got to resume my life, and like you said when you first told me about this place, it’s on the bus line.”
“Oh, Aly-cat, what am I going to do with you?”
“Feed me!”
We sat on the stools at the narrow breakfast bar, eating pizza and sipping wine. Aly seemed calm and relaxed, yet I was anything but. Concerned about her safety, I was on high alert, listening for every sound. Maverick slept in the corner in his crate, and I wanted to take him outside and pretend to let him pee so I could check out the yard. But Aly was telling me a story about her one failed attempt at visiting a sorority. It must have been funny because she was tied up in fits of giggles.
“All those girls sat there staring at me in my worn-in faded jeans, white T-shirt, and ankle boots. I wasn’t sure why they were staring, but then I realized they were all in black. Black slinky tops and dark jeans and knee-high boots and covered in jewelry. Get it? They all looked the same, and they wanted me to do that?”
A tear escaped her eye. “I’m sorry,” she said, swiping at the tear and swiveling her stool to face me. “I didn’t mean to get all weird and laughing at the same time. It’s been an emotional twenty-four hours.”
I turned and brought my hand to her face, smoothing my thumb under her eye before bringing her in for a kiss. “You’re not getting weird, and yes, it has been a lot in the last twenty-four hours.” Christ, where’s this coming from?
“But you got to know this, Legs. I had those girls. If you had one, you had ’em all, because you’re right, they’re all the same. And you’re different, which is why I really want to stay and take off your clothes right now.”
She didn’t let me finish. Instead, she took my mouth with hers and kissed the fuck out of me. I grabbed hold of her hair and pulled her head to the side, releasing her lips and taking control. My tongue slid up her neck to her earlobe and I sucked—hard. After I let it go, I whispered in her ear, “You’re not in control when it comes to this. I am.”
Aly moaned and gasped at the same time. She was probably wet as fuck. I’d be willing to bet she’d never been dominated before, and I couldn’t wait to get the chance. I didn’t get all freaky with the dominance thing, just needed to be in command. I liked to go a little rough when I wanted, and soft when I needed something different. It was a control thing for me. I knew this from my shrink—because who doesn’t talk about their sexcapades when they’re on the couch?
Dr. Wells would tell me, “Jake, you lost all control when your parents died and Shirley took away your ability to make it right. You crave control, but you also need distance. It’s a recipe for loneliness.”
Well, maybe I didn’t want to be distant anymore considering all the romantic shit I was spewing, but I sure as hell wanted to be in charge. Women usually went all for it, but I suspected Aly might have trouble with it. She was such a take-charge kind of person that she’d need to let go; I’d known this somewhere deep in my gut. Maybe that was why I’d taken it slow.
Shit! What the hell did I know?
Aly
Visions of whatever they called that stuff . . . the painful stuff . . . BDSM, I think it was called, floated through my mind when Jake said he needed to be in control.
I bit on my lip. I wasn’t a virgin, but I wasn’t a dirty girl. Or was I? Because here I was incredibly turned on just hours after my home was broken into, and I was living in some guy’s place. A guy who needed to be in charge. My teeth continued to worry my lower lip.
“Hey, you there?” Jake ran his knuckles over my cheek. “Aly? Don’t let your mind run away. I don’t want to hurt you. I would never make you do anything you didn’t want to.”
I nodded, swallowing any doubts or regrets. “I know.”
“Do you?” His eyes were filled with doubt, now more gray than blue, and his brow furrowed.
“Yes.” My response came out almost muted. It was a whisper of a whisper, a hoarse concession to what was happening. I was telling the man I’d met in jail after he was arrested that I trusted him to be in charge—in bed—and not to hurt me.
“I don’t like to hurt women,” Jake said in a low voice. “I just need to control the pace, the mood, maybe be a little rougher than gentle, but never when it means pain. Never.”
He almost seemed to be explaining it to himself, but I didn’t want to challenge him right this moment. His need for acceptance was so plain on his face.
“I believe you,” I said softly, letting my eyes tell him I was sincere. “I don’t think you’d hurt me.”
I reached out and ran my hand up and down his arm, smoothing the soft hair sprinkled there. He’d shrugged off his leather jacket when he first came in, and now he sat before me in a navy T-shirt and jeans. I kept my eyes on his as my fingertips cruised his forearms, stopping at his elbow and waiting for permission to travel onward.
Somehow, I knew he’d want this. So I waited.
“Go on,” he said, his voice hoarse, needy.
My fingertips trailed under his shirtsleeve, pushing it up to reveal a well-defined bicep covered with a tattoo of a tree, its leaves falling through the air. The tattoo sat high on his shoulder and I wondered at his choice. Why a tree, and not a skull and crossbones or a smoking gun?
“For my parents,” he said softly before he brought a hand to his face and covered his pained expression. “Shit. I’ve never really told anyone that,” he said from beneath his hand.
“It’s okay.” I let my hand continue to wander, then brought my lips to his shoulder and placed a soft kiss on the tree. “Is that all right?”
His palm quickly found its way to the nape of my neck and pulled me tight and close. “It’s more than all right. I want more. I want those lips all over my skin, everywhere, kissing and sucking. But I can’t start because I won’t stop until I’m deep inside you and you’re screaming my name, your voice hoarse with pleasure.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat and kissed his Adam’s apple—it was as far as I could reach with his hand gripping my neck. Although I wasn’t in pain, I felt secure for the first time in a long time. Safe in his rough touch.
“I’m not a virgin.” My lips grazed his neck as I spoke. I couldn’t look at him. “But I’m innocent . . . at least, more than you.”
“I got you, Aly-cat. I want to take care of you. Never wanted to do that with anyone. I’m not going to hurt you, but let’s not start what we can’t finish.”
“I want to start.”
He swept me up in his arms and encouraged me to wrap my legs around his waist before he carried me upstairs. As soon as we hit the master bedroom, Jake shoved me against the wall and pressed his body weight into me. I felt his erection hard against my stomach.
“Dig your heels into my ass,” he demanded, and I did. I should have felt crushed, but it felt more like I was wrapped up in a cocoon.
I was turning into someone I barely recognized. A sex addict, and Jake had never even been inside me. Yet.
We kissed, a deep, open-mouthed kiss so very different from the way he normally kissed me. His tongue swept along the roof of my mouth before he pulled it out and sucked on my lower lip. A moan rumbled from his chest, and I felt it wander through my whole body. A slight shiver ran up my spine.
Jake stopped and leaned his forehead into mine. “Okay?” he muttered.
“Yes.”
“Feel good?”
His fingers traced down my side—over my shirt—and trailed back up underneath the cotton fabric. I felt his calluses scratch against the surface of my skin, and small goose pimples broke out along the way.
“Feels really good,” I said in return.
Jake tore my shirt off in the next moment and my hands flew up on their own, allowing him to lift it over my head. He tossed it on the floor and brought both my hands over my head, holding them high with one of his, supporting my weight with his body as he went back to kissing.
We kissed and ground against each other, pelvis to pelvis, then kissed and ground some more. At every turn, Jake let me know how far to go or when to back off.
I was excited, more so than I’d ever been. I’d had three lovers—one in college, one in law school, and one since. College and law school had been all about experimenting. Of course, my sex partners had been introverted geeks like me. None of them were like the raw hunk of man who was now carrying me to the bed and spreading me out in front of him.
Jake shimmied off my leggings, revealing my cotton thong. He swiped his finger up the seam, putting pressure of my most sensitive spot through the fabric.
“Soaked,” he murmured. “For me?” He raised an eyebrow and looked at me expectantly, which was ridiculous. It wasn’t possible for me to be this wet for someone else.
But since he’d stopped and apparently expected an answer, I gave him one. “For you.”
His index finger slipped under the small strap and ripped the thong away, revealing me completely. Jake sucked in a breath, then ran his finger up my slit and down again. He entered me with one finger and then two, before he brought his lips down to mine and fucked my mouth.
The most erotic thoughts I’d ever had filled my head. Five minutes with this man fingering me, and I wanted it all. All of him. Everything life had to offer. With him.
“Jake,” I mumbled into his mouth, and he stilled.
“You okay?”
My nails traced up and down his back. “Yeah, more. It feels good.”
His thumb landed where I needed it as his fingers continued to pump in and out of me. A small climax grew into something epic inside me. I came on his name—it came floating out of my mouth in a whisper before it whipped out on a scream a second time. He placed his free hand on my chest to still me while the fireworks racked my body. All the while his fingers continued to slide slowly in and out of me, draining me. It was the most epic orgasm ever.
He kissed me again, his tongue lapping my lips in concert with the motions of his fingers before sweeping through my mouth. “You could dig your nails deeper next time,” he murmured against my lips, his breath tickling my mouth as he spoke. “Leave me with evidence that you liked that as much as I think you did.”
Next time? I wasn’t sure anything could top this time.
“You still have all your clothes on and I’m totally naked,” I said with a pout. “And you’re the one with the hot body.”
“First things first.”
He sat up and straddled me, careful not to let all his weight cover me as he licked his two fingers that had been inside me, taking time to run his tongue up and down each one. Tiny sparks flitted up my core at the carnal display, embers of desire I didn’t know I was capable of.
Watching my reaction, he tugged off his shirt and tossed it aside. Then he took my hand and brought it to the top of his fly and said, “You do it.”
With shaking fingers, I undid the button and unzipped the zipper. He stood and kicked off his shoes, then shoved his jeans off. His muscles rippled on every inch of his torso, his six-pack—no, eight-pack—on full display. I gave myself permission to drink him in fully, taking in his decadent quads, so huge and firm. Just like his erection.
He came back and spread out on top of me, keeping his weight on one arm as he reached his other hand to stroked his shaft. After just a few strokes, he released himself to take my hand and guide it under his, showing me how to do what he’d been doing moments before on his own. His eyes closed at my touch, and he moaned.
“Feels so good, Aly. I know you’re nervous, and so am I. This is new for me too. Trusting someone.”
I squeezed him a tiny bit tighter and pumped my hand a little faster, causing him to groan.
“Do you want me?” he asked, his eyes still sealed shut, hiding any reservations or fear he might have had.
“Yes.”
When he opened his blue eyes, I saw myself, my reflection needy and wanton swimming in him. He got up, leaving me drowning in a sea of Jake without a life preserver. I wasn’t a strong swimmer, but something about this man made me want to cross the Atlantic.
I watched him pull a foil wrapper from his jeans, tear it open, and slide it over his shaft. Need filled my throat, blocking my airway. If he didn’t slip inside me soon, I was going to expire, combust, or go stark raving mad, but I waited because he was in charge.
Then he did what I so desperately wanted. He held himself over me while he guided himself slowly inside me, inch by delicious inch, until his length hit the deepest part of me, touching me where none of my previous lovers had.
Oh my God. I’d heard of the G-spot, and now I knew what all the raving was about on the pages of Cosmo and Marie Claire. I always considered those magazines to be for other women—gorgeous, sensual woman who were nothing like me—but I would definitely have to hit the newsstand this week.
Jake’s breathing hitched as he started sliding in and out of me at a leisurely pace, hitting that spot over and over, each time dragging a louder moan from my throat.
“You feel so fucking good,” he said in a hushed voice. “So tight and wet. Like heaven but better, because you’re Aly.”
His hand brought both of mine back over my head like when we were against the wall, and he picked up the pace. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any more wonderful, his free hand reached for my clit. I never knew I adored my clit so much, but when his finger flicked over the nub, my back came off the bed.
This time it wasn’t fireworks, more an explosion like a bomb or a nuclear weapon. Something out of this world rocketed through me, draining me completely.
Sated, I lay on the pillows, the sheet drawn up over my chest while Jake went to dispose of the condom.
“I don’t have any towels,” I called out as the reality of my situation hit me.
I’d been forced from my home and was living in a rental property owned by the man I’d just made love with—or slept with, whatever it was. The same man who was walking toward me, holding a wet washcloth and wearing nothing but a wide grin.
“It’s okay,” he said. “I had some stocked in the bathroom from the gym.”
Jake gently cleaned me up, tossed the towel on the floor, and gathered me in his arms and held me until I fell asleep, this wonderful man who must have let Maverick out to pee while I slept.
And he was the same man who was snoring softly next to me when I woke up Monday morning.