Wild Jaden

by Shayne Ford

  She can say that twice. Why would it take her so long to realize? If I know anything about her is that she is a free spirit, brimming with life, unable to fit in a box, let alone a small one, and he killed her with his insecurities.

  Shifting my eyes away from her, I pick another hanger.

  “Okay...” I mutter, my eyes roaming over the studded dress. “So why are you so obsessed with Jaden?” I ask, tossing her another quick glance.

  She does that weight shifting from one foot to the other, and suddenly, I sense a headache growing.

  “He is so fucking hot,” she says, elated.

  Her eyes gleam as if charged with electricity.

  I study her for a moment, baffled. I don’t recall setting them up, having a conference call or video chats. Where did she see him?

  Have they exchanged pictures by any chance?

  “Hmm... How do you know he’s hot? ”I ask, morbidly suspicious.

  A naughty smile brushes her eyes. That can’t be good.

  I freeze, waiting for her answer. Dress in one hand, the hanger in the other. She leans to me and whispers conspiratorially.

  “I found his page.”

  “What page?”

  She bites her lip, and rubs her nose, a naughty smile scrunching it up.

  “He has this little site...”

  “What site?” I wheeze.

  My heart and lungs collide.

  I drop the dress on the bed and clasp my fingers on my hip.

  “A membership site,” she mutters.

  I look at her, utterly incredulous. She nods a couple of times.

  “Yes. It’s like a personal site. Password protected. It has pictures of him, little snippets of video...”

  My eyes widen in surprise.

  “What are you talking about?” I ask.

  I know exactly what she’s talking about.

  “I want to see it,” I bark.

  She quickly pulls out her smartphone, scrolls her finger onto the screen, and starts typing a message.

  “Here. I texted you the link.”

  My phone beeps on the bed. I barely suppress my impulse to pounce on it. I hurl the gadget a glare she cannot see and bite my lip, trying to coax myself into behaving like an adult.

  “I’ll check it when I have time,” I say, attempting to mislead her.

  Her voice echoes behind my back.

  “He’s smoking hot. And not only that...”

  I spin around.

  Some of my thoughts must’ve spilled on my face. She looks a bit shaken from my glare but has no intention of pulling away from the topic.

  I flick my eyebrows up, encouraging her to continue.

  “Yes?”

  “It’s not only his body. I mean, he’s fine. What am I saying? I’ve never seen a man like him in my life. I mean not in reality,” she says, raving about him.

  I roll my eyes. She completely ignores me.

  “But man... the way he moves... Oh, my God!”

  She clicks her tongue. Twice. It feels like a taser on my skin.

  “He’s fucking delicious. A week ago he posted a snippet with him rolling his hips. I lost my sleep over that clip.”

  I tip my head to the side, looking at her incredulously. She must be playing cute now.

  She dismisses me with a flick of her hand.

  “No, no. Seriously. You’ll see...” She nods in agreement with herself. “And the sounds that he makes when he comes… Mmm…”

  I hear my body crumbling like a week old cookie. My throat feels funny, my body shaking like a pudding.

  Enough.

  From the bed, I pick up the first dress I can get my hands on, making sure I snag my phone along with it and hide it inside the pleats of the fabric.

  “Okay, then... I need to go now. I’ll be downstairs as soon as I’m done,” I say dismissively.

  She heads to the exit.

  I almost enter the bathroom when I stop and toss words over my shoulder as if they’re nothing but a fleeting thought.

  “So... Why are you so curios about him?”

  She smiles, pushing back a giggle.

  “He doesn’t reveal his face, and it teases the hell out of me. That... and maybe I have a chance at him,” she says.

  Eating my retort, I spin around and dash into the bathroom.

  SENNA

  Welcome to the new age of employment!

  When your editor shows his tool and bedroom moves to your assistant, getting her all stirred up, and setting her on a prowl.

  Of all people, I shouldn’t be the one to pass judgment. It’s not as if I found him at a job fair. Besides, I’m not better than her. I may be mad, in fact, precisely because he hasn’t shown me his moves online or offline for a while.

  But a subscription paid website?

  I have to give it to him. The man is full of ideas and skill. I didn’t expect him to get the entrepreneurial bug so quickly. For fuck’s sake, he just started to work for me.

  Fuming, I bump into things in the bathroom, fighting my curiosity and the need to feed it with more bits of information.

  I’m worse than Harper in that regard. Her obsession is based on novelty, but I’m the one who’s desperately hooked on him because I’ve already tasted the fucking tease.

  Ugh!

  I have to calm down. Perhaps take a cold shower.

  Somehow, I manage to do just that, and for a few minutes, my mind goes blank. Absently, I turn the water off, run a towel over my body, brush my hair and put on my makeup. It doesn’t take long before my mind shifts back to the ruminating mode.

  So now, he’s out there, messing with other people’s minds, making them drool over him. I clench my teeth and squeeze my fists.

  Damnit. The man drives me fucking crazy.

  Slowly, I breathe in and out, and let myself cool for a moment before I scoop up the phone, slide my finger onto the screen, find Harper’s message, and tap the link.

  It’s a plain page with not much information which makes me think this is more like an insider’s thing, his website thriving on the word of mouth promotion.

  Swiftly, I create an account and log in. One page in, I gasp and take a deep breath. Oh, shit... I feel my heart crawling up my neck.

  Am I losing it already? I can do this.

  You can do it, Senna.

  I wish I could laugh and not take it so seriously, but this feels more like pain than anything else. Gripping the edge of the sink, I brace myself.

  A picture of his bare torso greets me. It’s definitely him. I recognize the line of his shoulders, the ink, the scars, the teasing hips, and the washboard abdomen.

  He looks like he just walked out of the gym, his muscles pumped up, his skin glistening with sweat. A pair of sweatpants rides low on his hips, the outline of his hard cock pushing against the soft fabric.

  I swallow a couple of times, my throat still dry like chalk.

  I run my eyes over the pictures. It’s him. Everywhere... In full splendor. Teasing. Enticing. Getting me hot and wet between my legs. Not only me... Of course. There must be others.

  Gaping, I take him in. I drink him in. Pouring the images of him into my brain. Letting him poison me, making me addicted to him.

  He’s, um... naked. In the bed, in the shower, or in the armchair. A sheet thrown here, a pillow over there, or a towel wrapped around his waist. The angle carefully chosen, revealing enough but never too much.

  Picture after picture teases the hell out of me, making me drool and swallow hard. This whole thing is meant to drive his viewers crazy.

  As if it’s not enough, tantalizing gifs turn up the heat. Hands glide down his body, sliding off his jeans or sweatpants, or a sheet. Sometimes they unwrap a towel, offering a glimpse of his erection, but never the entire view.

  And then comes the notorious roll off hips. Oh, my... Now, I know what she was talking about.

  A side angle... The shirt completely open, jeans barely clinging to his hips, his fly half undone. Shoulders pr
opped against a wall, he teasingly rocks his hips, drawing slow, sensual moves that make my thighs clenching as if he enters me.

  The snippet runs on a loop. I watch it over and over again, tense and breathless. My neck feels sore from the awkward position.

  And that’s not all.

  There’s a full section for premium members, and with nothing better to do, I purchase the entire, fucking package.

  Ironic, isn’t it?

  Automated to perfection, the damn thing throws money at his bank account. Talking about a great business model.

  I click on the first clip. My mouth drops to the floor.

  Sprawled on his back, one arm folded under his head, he slides his hand down his abs, and reaches his erection. He wraps his fingers around the engorged flesh and rolls his hand up and down his length. The memory of our trip to the Keys comes back to me, spurring a rush of tingles between my legs.

  His eyes remain close, his abs waving slightly. His back arches, his hard butt pressing against the mattress as he spreads his legs a little more, giving the camera a full view.

  Tight balls, trimmed groin and the smooth outline of his cock fill my view, the image sending shockwaves through my brain. Veins wrap around his girth like plump vines. I feel a sweet pain growing in my sex.

  His fist keeps going up and down.

  Most of his face is out of the frame, but not entirely. His lips part and curl into a teasing smile as he slowly strokes his dick.

  I’m so tense I could burst a blood vessel. I lick my lips, hopelessly trying to replenish the moisture. His body and hands whip up a storm of lust.

  It strikes me as pure art. The way his hand slides up and down. And the way he moves his body. Everything done deliberately slow to put the audience in a trance, and make them feel exactly what he does, yearning for that deep lust coursing through his blood.

  I shift my phone from one hand to the other, the frame sliding through my sweaty fingers. Without tearing my gaze away, I run my hand over a towel, drying up my skin.

  He tilts his hips up, the pleasure rising in his body. I’m tense and hot myself. His chest starts heaving and so does mine.

  Slowly, he slips into a different world. He doesn’t mind the camera, the intrusive eyes or people, who he doesn’t know, indulging.

  It’s only him, his pleasure and his mind.

  Soft sounds fall from his parted lips, and then a string of heavy breaths, sending more pleasure through my body. I prop myself against the sink, my legs no longer steady.

  His hips tilt higher, thrusting, and sliding his erection through his fist while I squeeze my thighs, wet between my legs. His hand moves rhythmically, polishing the crown, then quickly rubbing his shaft.

  Mesmerized, I watch his cum spilling over his abs, his sensual groans rolling in my ears. My skin prickles down my spine, my puckered nipples poking at the air. I’m seconds away from fingering myself.

  Annoyed, I turn off the phone.

  I’m hot, and sweaty, with no relief in sight.

  All that tension morphs into choking anger. I toss the towel to the side, and dash out of the bathroom, heading straight to the closet. From inside a garment bag, I pull out a different set of clothes and slip them on. Moments later, I examine my reflection.

  Perfect.

  I glance at the time.

  I’m late to my birthday party, yet I can’t fight the temptation. I slide my finger onto the screen one more time and log in to his website. I scroll down to the video clips section and sift through the gallery.

  Rushed, I tap on a few of them and get a quick glimpse of the recordings. I make a mental note to review them later on when another one draws my attention.

  I tap the thumbnail, and a full screen comes to life.

  My heart sinks.

  Two silhouettes come alive against the dark background. The man leans against a wall as the woman sits on her folded legs at his feet.

  A mane of long, blonde hair cascades down her back.

  He’s shirtless, his fly open, his jeans sitting low on his hips. Naked, she has her fingers wrapped around his cock, the sliding motion of her hand in perfect synch with the bobbing of her head against his groin.

  I can only get a glimpse of her face, but it’s enough. Her eyes are closed as she keeps rolling her lips, flicking her tongue, and sucking his flesh.

  I recognize his stance and tattoos. He slips his hand under her hair and brushes it all back, revealing more of her face.

  She looks up at him as he tilts his chin down, most of his face out of the frame. She picks up the pace.

  His chest start rising and falling rapidly as he rhythmically thrusts his cock between her lips.

  The microphone picks up the sounds–– his heavy breathing mixed with her soft moans. I hold my breath and perk up my ears to hear them better.

  Time warps as I become a witness to their pleasure.

  A few more moments slip by. Minutes, perhaps?

  The assertive knock on the bathroom door registers like a church bell in my head.

  Startled, I gasp. My hand flying to my mouth as my phone goes airborne, landing on the bathroom tile.

  I freeze.

  From where I stand, I can still see that blonde giving him head, and I can still hear her moans. I throw a towel over the phone, trying to bury the sound.

  “Yes?”

  “Are you okay?”

  Harper’s voice seeps through the door, lined with concern.

  “Yeah... I am,” I say, snatching the phone off the floor and turning it off.

  I straighten my back and crack the door open.

  Her mouth pulls open as she takes in my fluffed up hair and my outfit.

  “I’m ready.”

  “Holy shit! Who do you want to fuck?”

  “That’s none of your business,” I say, not having a damn clue.

  3

  JADEN

  Judging by the line of cars–– pulling in and out, the crew directing the mayhem, and the music blasting behind the wall of trees, I gather the party is in full swing.

  I slip by two women who make out against a wall not far from the entrance, both barely keeping their bodies straight. One loses her balance and falls into my arms while the other sears my body with her drunken eyes. I push the wobbly woman to her feet and walk inside.

  Loud music throbs inside the house, bouncing against the walls and making the heated bodies grind against each other. The beams of light shift, in synch with the music beat.

  I glance around, scanning the faces. Nothing catches my eye.

  I’m hardly a party man. I missed most of them when I was a teen, and they almost never happened later on.

  I swivel my head one more time. Searching the crowd, I look for her. A bad feeling hovers over me. Coming back a day earlier to make her a surprise no longer seems such a good idea.

  A soft hand touches my arm.

  I turn around. A pretty face with smiling eyes fills my sight.

  “Oh, my God! You are him.”

  The voice sounds familiar.

  Harper?

  I give her a swift once-over. For some reason, that’s not how I imagined her––a young woman with a mane of unruly hair who now walks into a patch of light, her features coming into better focus.

  She wears a form-fitting dress that sets off her figure and heels that make her legs look longer. Her eyes dip to my tattoos, her fingers kneading my arm gently.

  Recognition flickers through her eyes.

  “It is you,” she says, barely breathing.

  “Harper?”

  “Mmm-hmm,” she mutters, her gaze drifting slowly as she takes in my body.

  She swings her eyes back to my face, curls her arms around my neck, leans on me, and whispers in my ear.

  “I’m a premium member... You know?”

  She pulls back a little, a flirty smile tugging at her lips.

  Come to think of it, telling her about the site was a dumb idea. I thought she’d hook me up with som
e traffic, and forget about me.

  She did–– that’s how my little side project took off, became viral and brought in the paying members. But she got a bit attached.

  Okay. Perhaps more.

  Bad planning on my part. The whole idea was not to reveal my identity or meet with the members of my site in real life.

  “So you like it?” I ask, coyly.

  “Are you kidding me? I love it. It makes me horny as hell.”

  Her eyes slip down to my groin as if I needed another hint.

  “What happened to your boyfriend?”

  She starts chewing on her lip.

  “We just broke up.”

  “Not because of sex, I gather,” I say, playing the shrink.

  “Well... It was rather because of the lack of it.”

  Her lips purse comically. I stay silent.

  “Do you want something to drink?” she asks.

  “Sure,” I say, eager to shift her focus away from me and break the awkward moment.

  She sashays to the bar while I retreat into a corner.

  Craning my neck out, I survey the room again when the back of a woman catches my eye. I do a double take.

  No. It can’t be.

  Is that who I think it is?

  I drag my gaze down on her, slowly taking inventory. Waving, black hair drapes over her back, long legs shaking her butt following the rhythm of the music. My eyes trace her sculpted shoulders, dipping briefly to her waist.

  Thigh high stockings run up her legs, lacy garters peeking from below the hemline of her mini skirt. Laced up at the back, her skirt barely covers her butt. A lacy top with molded cups, hugs her chest, most of her tits spilling out.

  I feel a twitch inside my jeans. I part my legs to ease the building pressure.

  A man stands in front of her, his eyes locked with hers. A different kind of tension barrels through my body.

  She snakes her arms around his neck and grinds her body into his. It doesn’t take long before his hands slide up her thighs, and his fingers trace her stockings and her garters while she smoothly rolls her hips for him. The way they touch each other speaks of intimacy between them.

  He had her once or twice. Perhaps a dozen times. The chemistry is obvious.

  I shift my focus back to him again.