CHAPTER THIRTY
Sarah
One week later
Let’s talk nipples, shall we? Mine are unique [weird] in that they overreact to everything.
A two-mile-per-hour breeze from the northeast? Nipples get hard. Air conditioning kicks on? Nipples get hard. Someone tickles me? Nipples get hard. Someone innocently massages my shoulders? Nipples get hard. The barista at the coffee shop makes my latte just right? Nipples get hard.
Okay, so I’m kidding about that last one, but you get my point. My nipples are starved for attention. They’re like the Kardashians—always trying to be prominently in sight everywhere and anywhere. I have to wear a bra with some sort of padding because, otherwise, I’ll be visibly saluting everyone from the mailman to the old lady walking her dog in the morning. I’m not exactly well-endowed, but because of my whorish nipples, I don’t ever dare to go braless.
The one semi-plus to this “affliction” is the fact guys tend to love my nipples. My nipples getting hard are interpreted as a visual pat on the back that they’re doing something right. The truth of the matter is, a guy could simply glance at my nipples, and they’d get hard.
Jack is the first guy to notice my strange nipple-isms.
“Are they always so responsive?”
He peers curiously over his coffee cup at me. After separate workouts at the gym, we are now showered and sweat-free and decided to grab some coffee on this brisk Friday morning. I’m off work, and he’s ensured the day and weekend are clear for Maggie and Ry’s wedding festivities on Saturday.
“Pretty much.” I shrug. “It’s a curse. It’s like if you”—I lean toward the table, lowering my voice—“got aroused at the slightest thing at random moments.”
“You’ve just described puberty,” he remarks dryly.
Rolling my eyes, I add, “You know what I mean. It continues well past puberty.”
“Not that I’m complaining, but I can see how that would be a pain in the ass.” He leans in closer, tipping his head to the side with a thoughtful expression. “They’re responsive on their own, but I have a question.” He glances around before lowering his voice. “Do you especially like extra attention toward them?”
Dark blue eyes watch me intently, waiting for my response. Feeling especially naughty, I smirk and whisper back, “Depends on what exactly the extra attention is.”
Reaching into the front zippered pocket of my gym bag, I withdraw one of my chocolates. Unwrapping it carefully, I read the message on the inside, take a small nibble, and am about to place the remaining piece back in the foil when Jack’s fingers snag my wrist.
“May I?” His eyes lock with mine, and when I nod, he brings my hand to his mouth; those full lips wrap around the chocolate, and the tip of his tongue barely touches my fingers. He makes it a point to place his lips on my index finger and thumb as if ensuring no remnants of chocolate are left. Releasing my hand, he leans back to chew, watching me the entire time. Once he swallows and takes a sip of his coffee, he leans his forearms on the table, eyes flashing with heated lust.
Sweet baby Moses in the river. I’m in fear of having perpetually hard nipples and soaked panties around this man. Do they have support groups for this kind of thing? I can hear myself addressing them now. “Hi, I’m Sarah. My bras have nipple imprints in them, and I could probably supply enough moisture from my panties for a good-sized greenhouse to thrive for a solid year.”
TMI? Yeah, the greenhouse thing totally pushed it overboard, I think. Sorry about that.
“Did that have any effect?” He has the audacity to ask me this. I mean, come on. He’s walking, talking sex appeal and can practically catapult me into Orgasm-ville by simply giving me one of those looks.
“Oh, I think it’s pretty safe to say it did.” I frown in faux concern. “But I have to be honest with you. I think you might need to come back to my place and, you know”—I shrug casually—“test things out to be sure.”
His eyes sparkle with mischief. “I’m always a supporter of science and research.” He tips his head toward the door. “Shall we?”
* * *
This might be the moment when we get to follow through with everything, and Jack will be able to slide all the way to home plate. To make that winning touchdown. To sink a hole-in-one.
You know things are in dire straits when I start tossing out sports analogies. But seriously. This might finally be it! <mentally bounces up and down like a preteen who scored tickets to a Justin Bieber concert>
We’re tearing off each other’s clothes the second we get in the door. We decided to head to my place since it was closer by approximately two minutes per Jack’s calculations. And who am I to argue with a business consultant’s math?
We stumble against my bedroom door, the cool wood pressing against my naked back while Jack’s warm hands cup my breasts, lightly dragging the pads of his thumbs over my hardened nipples.
“Are they reacting to my touch or are they just…” His low, gravelly tone trails off as his lips fasten over my earlobe, sucking gently.
“It’s definitely your touch.” My voice is breathless and ragged.
Grasping at his broad shoulders, I feel the play of muscles as he shifts slightly, dipping his head to take one hardened peak between his lips. He toys with my nipple, darting the tip of his tongue out and flicking it before fastening his lips around it to create a light suction. Releasing it, he moves to pay homage to the other, and my hands fist in his hair as I arch into his touch.
Abruptly, he straightens and scoops me up, depositing me onto the bed. Standing at the edge of the bed between my spread legs, he proudly displays his arousal, thick and ready for me. Adjusting my legs so my feet are flat on the mattress, his lips curve up in a smirk I won’t soon forget. It’s mischievous, sexy, intense, and heated all at once.
Lowering to crouch beside the bed, he brings his face closer to my center without breaking eye contact. His hands slide over my legs, spreading my thighs wider, and he lowers his head only to stop once his lips are barely a centimeter away.
“I want you to play with your nipples while I have my way with your pussy.” That smirk and the fact he wants me to touch myself, combined with his words, send hot arousal strumming through my body. My only option is to heed his command.
My eyes drift closed, and my head tips back against the mattress the moment his soft lips graze my opening. When the tip of his tongue darts inside to taste me, my hands and fingers move of their own accord, caressing my nipples. Jack slides two fingers inside me and hooks them, the movement causing my inner muscles to clench, anticipating his thick cock in its place.
“Jack,” I breathe out, “I need you. Please.” I’m unbothered by my begging. All I know is if I don’t get him inside me right now, I might die.
But does he listen? Noooo. Instead, he chooses to make me suffer even more. Fingers slick with my arousal, he thrusts them in and out, pushing me closer to release while he fastens his lips over my clit and sucks with just enough pressure to send me tumbling over the edge.
I ride his fingers, my hips bucking, inner muscles clenching and releasing in rapid fire, and my nipples are harder than ever. Once my tremors finally subside, my eyes open to peer down at him, watching as he slips his fingers out of me and into his mouth to suck them clean.
“You’d better get up here now,” I warn, my voice hoarse.
Shifting, he reaches for a condom on my bedside table and sheaths himself quickly then grips my hips to drag me closer to the edge of the mattress. Leaning over me with his hands braced on either side of my head, he presses his tip to my entrance. Inching inside me slowly, he gazes down at me with a mixture of tenderness and heated lust as one thumb drags along my cheekbone.
“You’re so beautiful, Sunshine.” He presses his lips tenderly to mine as his cock presses deeper, and I already feel the telltale tightening of my inner muscles. The way he feels inside me; each subsequent thrust from Jack pushes me closer to the edge. As he continues to drive deep, working his hard length in and out of me, my muscles grow taut in anticipation of my release. One more thrust is all it’ll take…
“Oh, honey. You’ve chosen well.”
Jack and I both jerk at the sound of the intruding voice, our foreheads smacking together as we attempt to grab something to cover ourselves with.
“Ouch!” I cry out, holding a hand to my forehead before yelling in the direction of the trail of muttering down the hall. “Mother! What are you doing here?!”
Jack has a large red spot on his forehead near his left eyebrow. He’s using the comforter to cover himself while I quickly pull on one of the oversized T-shirts I often sleep in.
“Your mother?” he hisses in question.
“She’s crazy,” I whisper-yell. “She’ll be planning our happily ever after.” Hiding my face in my hands, I shudder. “God, she saw your freaking ass. While we were…” I drop my hands from my face to gesture with one as I try to find the words.
Jack raises an eyebrow. He’s sitting back against my headboard as if he’s not at all scarred or perturbed by what’s just transpired.
“Copulating? Fornicating?” His expression brightens, and he tosses out, “Shagging?” before imitating the Austin Powers’s British accent. “But we were just shagging, baby.”
“You think this is funny?” The frenzied panic in my voice is evident.
“What’s your young man’s name?” my mother calls from the kitchen. She’s probably rummaging through my pantry and refrigerator, judging me for the takeout containers because of the plastic that hurts the environment or the GMOs that the prepared foods might contain. My mother’s a bit—okay, a lot—of a hippie. She’s into free-range anything.
“Or should I call him sweet cheeks?” She giggles. “You know, because his butt is so—”
“Jack!” I interject loudly. “His name is Jack!”
Of course, he’s sitting here grinning away as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. As if his clothes aren’t scattered throughout my apartment willy-nilly.
He shifts to get off the bed, standing and walking over to me. My eyes automatically drop to where he’s still visibly hard. Like, really hard. Jerking my eyes back up to his, I wince.
“I’m sorry about this and”—I wave a hand toward his obvious arousal—“that. Because I know it’s painful and—”
He cuts off my words with a kiss before pressing his forehead to mine. “Sunshine, you forget. We’ve been here before.”
I blow out a heavy breath. “It’s getting to be a trend, isn’t it?”
His hands cradle my face, gaze searching. “I love being with you.” His attention drops to where his thumb softly caresses my cheekbone. “Not only for this.”
With a quick kiss on my lips, he backs away and grins. “Now, go get Mr. Sweet Cheeks his clothes so I can meet your mother.”