by Shandi Boyes
Jealousy hits me full force when Rachel joins Jacob and Emily at the side of the reception tent. If she’s hoping Jacob will say goodbye to her in the manner he just did Emily, she has another thing coming. I don’t share. Never have. Never will.
With jealousy heating my steps, I make it to Jacob's side in record-breaking time. The most adorable smile I've ever seen in my life stretches across his face when I throw myself into his arms. Even with him more intoxicated than he's ever been, I'm not afraid he'll drop me. He'd never hurt me. Not in a million years.
As he spins us away from Emily and Rachel, he nibbles on my lips as he drops his eyes to mine. “I thought you didn’t get jealous?”
“Shut up and kiss me.”
His chuckle vibrates my mouth before he does as instructed. Like every kiss we’ve shared, things soon become heated. Needing privacy, Jacob heads outside. Considering how much alcohol he’s unknowingly consumed, I’m impressed at how quickly he moves. Before I know it, I’m pinned to his car by his hips, and his mouth is savaging mine. It’s the best goddamn twenty minutes of my life.
Only once he has me on the brink of an orgasm does he pull back, and even then, mayhem ensues. It isn't the impressive moves of his mouth making me giddy but the words he speaks.
“I love you, C.T.”
My heart thrashes against my ribs as I whisper words I never thought I’d say, “I love you too.”
I’ve known for a while that I love him, but I’ve been too scared to say it back. Knowing he’ll have nothing but photos to remember tonight freed me from worry. Don’t get me wrong, I want him to know, I just need to keep some cards to myself. Over the past three months, he’s had me backflipping on many rules I swore I’d never break. This one is the biggest, so I need to keep it in my arsenal for a little longer.
I don’t think Jacob heard my declaration of love. He doesn’t respond as I anticipated. He merely taps my nose before jogging around to hop into the passenger seat of his car.
Shrugging, I slide into the driver seat. A majority of our trip home is silent, and I’m beginning to wonder if Jacob is asleep. It’s only when his hand slips onto my thigh do I realize he is. Whatever is going on with him, it has him heated up—everywhere.
“You okay?”
I hope he isn’t going to be sick. We’re in his car, but I’d rather not spend my night cleaning vomit from the carpet.
“Never better,” he responds just as we arrive at my apartment building.
Climbing three flights of stairs with a heavily intoxicated Jacob is an interesting experience, but it proves my theory that he’s a happy drunk. He often steals kisses and tells me he loves me during the torturously long trip from the car to my front door.
Once we finally stumble inside, he kicks off his shoes before tackling his belt. “Home sweet home.”
Only months ago, I would have been pissed at him declaring my humble abode as his, but tonight it has a nice ring to it. His ass is indented in my couch; you can't get more moved in than that. He's practically been living with me the past three months anyway. He hasn’t decided what he wants to do career-wise yet, but he saved enough pennies the past two years fighting to supplement his income until he figures out what he wants to do.
I hope he continues his current arrangement. Most of his days are spent with Hank, helping him train a dozen boys and one girl from Hopeton House. When he isn’t there, he’s here with me. Noah endorses the new inductees’ fighting scholarships. When he heard about Jacob's plan to take them under his wing, he paid their gym memberships in cash for the next three years, thus not only helping disadvantaged kids but Hank as well. It's a win-win for all involved.
When Jacob staggers toward our room, I head into the kitchen to grab a glass of water and a bottle of Advil. By the time I trace the steps he took a mere minute ago, he’s crashed on our bed. Although I’m glad he made it to the bed before passing out, I would have preferred for him not to hog the whole thing.
After removing my makeup, and having a steaming hot shower, I join him in bed. I've barely slipped between the sheet when his hands shoots out to drag me to his side. My insides do a stupid flippy thing when he murmurs, "That's better."
You could park a truck between us when we go to bed, but by the time I wake, every single morning, I’m smothered by him.
Any chance of instantly falling asleep flies out the window when his cock braces my backside. Unlike earlier, this time around, he’s as hard as stone.
Ignoring the screamed demands of the hellion in my ear, I roll onto my opposite hip, so I can nuzzle into his chest. Halfway around, my breath hitches. His eyes are open, staring straight at me. Even being drunk can’t hide the admiration in them.
When he glides his index finger down my right cheek, every fine hair on my body prickles. The shift of air between us is almost palpable. When he adjusts his position to perch himself above me, his hair falls into his face. He's overdue for a trim, but nothing can take away from the sheer brilliance of his handsome face as he stares down at me with needy, hungry eyes.
Desire tightens my core when he rocks his hips forward. The crown of his thick cock rubs along my panties, inspiring a breathless moan to part my lips. Hearing the need in my voice, he yanks my sleeping shirt over my head before sliding my panties down my thighs. His warm breaths pebble my skin with goosebumps when he places feather-like kisses from my neck to my collarbone before coming to a stop at my aching-with-desire breasts. Unlike the many times we’ve slept together, his pace is slow and more controlled.
After rolling his tongue around my nipple, he draws it into his mouth. A grunted moan tears from my throat when he guides me toward climax by using nothing but his talented mouth. I’ve never orgasmed just from having my nipples stimulated, but if my shuddering thighs are anything to go by, Jacob is about to achieve the unachievable.
I have no idea what the fuck is going on. Usually, I’d be begging for him to increase his pace, but now I’m relishing every gentle suck and tweak. I’ve never been coiled so tight, even with him going at a slow, tender pace.
Any further thoughts on my newfound weirdness halt when a familiar tingle brews low in my gut. As every nerve in my body sparks, my breathing levels, and a low, shuddering moan escapes my parted lips. He did it. He brought me to climax by only fondling my breasts, and the simplicity doesn’t dampen it in the slightest. It’s the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had. I feel like I’m drunk, even without touching a drop of alcohol, and my entire body is shaking.
After guiding me down from my awe-inspiring climax with gentle nibbles and teasing teeth grazes, he slithers his hand down to cup my pussy. Air whistles between his teeth when he feels how wet I am. I’m more than ready for the next phase of our night, and clearly so is he when he snags a condom from my bedside table to roll it down his magnificent cock. Even seeing him do the same mundane task hundreds of times the past two years doesn’t weaken my interest. I’m still astounded—by both him and his cock.
He nestles his cock between the folds of my pussy before raising his eyes to mine. My heart beats double. Something in his eyes has changed. The cheeky spark that regularly fires in them is still present, but something stronger, more tangible is lighting them tonight.
“Ready?”
With my mind still in a lust cloud, words are eluding me, so I nod instead. I take in the first five inches of his cock without hesitating, but the slow sheath of his last few inches has my eyes fluttering closed. It is impossible to act impassively when you're this full, and don't even get me started on when his crown hits my cervix. Most girls run for the hills when pain sparks through their wombs. I'm not most girls. I love that he can fill me like no one else can. I can't take all of him—unfortunately—but what I can feels so fucking good.
Realizing he’s reached a point where he can’t go any further, he slowly withdraws before re-entering me at the same painstakingly slow pace. When he does the same thing another four times, I wrap my legs around his waist, then dig m
y heels into his glorious ass, urging him to go faster.
He scoops his arm around my back to raise my hips from the bed so he can take me deeper, but he denies my request to go faster with a shake of his head. “Not tonight, Lola. I’m not fucking you tonight.”
You’d think his words would have my bitchy claws spiked, but surprisingly, they don’t. Don’t ask me why, because even I’m confused by my reaction.
Confident he’d never leave me hanging, I loosen my grip around his hips before sealing my lips over his. Our kiss is as slow as the pace he’s fucking me, but it takes nothing away from our exchange. I’m the fullest I’ve ever been—and I’m not just talking about my pussy.
He rocks into me on repeat, his pace quick enough for my second climax to build, but slow to ensure me he isn’t fucking me. I’m shocked. I never knew you could achieve such mind-spiraling emotions while fucking at a leisurely pace. I’ve always been a girl who likes to fuck—the harder, the better—but now I’m wondering what I missed out on by not slowing things down. There’s such a raw, carnal feeling associated with... with... making love.
My pupils dilate to the size of saucers. Oh my god. Is that what Jacob is doing? Is he making love to me?
When I seek confirmation from his eyes, desire rockets through my body. His eyes tell me everything I need to know. He’s making love to me. If his slow, perfect strokes aren't enough evidence, the devoted look in his eyes is a sure-fire sign.
My entire body quakes, not only gobsmacked that I’m making love and enjoying it, but because of the core-shattering climax hitting me without warning. My pussy ripples around Jacob’s cock as a low, shallow moan simpers from my lips. I claw at his back as I struggle to find my way out of an earth-shattering orgasm. It’s a long, terrifying two minutes.
“What the hell was that?” I mumble when I’ve returned from hysteria.
Jacob smiles a full-toothed grin. “It’s called making love, and I’m planning to do that to you for several more hours tonight, so you better hold on tight, C.T, because things are about to get rowdy.”
The next morning, nearly comatose from sexual exhaustion, I pretend I can’t feel Jacob’s heated gaze roaming over my body. I’m still recouping from the inconceivable number of orgasms that ripped through me last night, so I need more sleep. At least an hour or fifty. Then I’ll need just as long to comprehend how making love can invoke such awe-inspiring feeling.
I’m stunned—ecstatic—but still stunned.
Jacob doesn’t buy my poor acting skills. “Stop faking it.”
I have no clue how he knows, but he can tell when I’m awake even before I’ve opened my eyes. “Shh.”
I roll over to burrow my thumping head into his chest. Bad move. He's still shirtless, meaning my eyes can't help but pop open to drink in the visually satisfying image of his naked torso. His body is a masterpiece that deserves more than a double take.
After drinking him in like an alcoholic chugging down a can of beer, I lift my eyes to his face. I groan at his bright smile. I have no clue why he’s so chipper this early in the morning. He should have a hangover—a massive one.
“Say it again.”
I cock my brow, confused. “Shh,” I repeat, assuming that’s what he means.
It isn’t. “Not that.” The smile on his face switches to a serious smirk. “Say what you said last night.” He scoots down until we’re eye to eye. “The words you whispered when we were leaving Noah and Emily’s wedding.”
My eyes open wide as a brutal grunt steals every drop of moisture from my mouth.
He remembered.
Chapter Fifty-Six
Jacob
Twelve months later...
“You do it like this.” I lower three of Maddie’s chubby fingers, leaving her index and middle finger poking up. “Peace, man.”
She blows a sloppy raspberry. Spit sails into the air, but I know the real reason for her joy; she appreciates my efforts to show her the peace sign.
“You're teaching her the wrong finger.”
My eyes float up in just enough time to witness Slater get a nasty stink-eye from Emily. Her gaze is so hot, the marshmallow fondue on the cupcakes she's replenishing almost melts. With her gaze devoted solely to Slater, I tuck away Maddie's index finger before directing her hand toward Slater.
“That one is just for Uncle Slater... ”
My words trail off when Noah’s abrupt entrance into the family room of his cabin has him stumbling onto me showing his one-year-old daughter how to flip the bird. He curses under his breath before handing Emily the napkins he’s now clutching for dear life.
“You’ll save Unky Jake, won’t you?”
Maddie blows another raspberry—all over my cheek this time around.
“Give her to me before you ruin her for eternity.”
Lola steals Maddie off my lap before I can protest that she’s more of a bad influence than me. She must have sewn the outfit she gifted Maddie today because I’ve never seen stripper outfits at Baby Gap. Today is Maddie’s first birthday. She was born the day after Noah and Emily’s wedding, or, as I prefer to call it, the day following Lola’s admission of love.
Twelve months have flown by since then, but I still recall the petrified look on Lola’s face when I requested she repeat what she said. She was the most scared I’d ever seen her, but that didn’t stop her from pretending she never said anything. Mercifully, I knew she was full of shit. No amount of alcohol would make me forget hearing those three little words for the first time. They were the reason I spent half my night ensuring she knew how deeply they impacted me. We didn’t fuck that night. We made love. And we have a good dozen or more times since then.
Did she repeat those three little words? Yes, she did... after I sexually tortured them out of her. Now I have the pleasure of hearing them once, sometimes even twice a day. It never gets old.
It’s been a hectic, crazy twelve months. Today is the first time all the old gang has gathered in one room since Maddie was born. A few months after Maddie’s birth, Noah and his bandmates went on tour. Not long after that, I started fighting again.
I thought my fighting dreams were destroyed after being put on probation for assaulting Callum, but Lola and Hank found a loophole in the system, so once my probation was over for attacking the cameraman who tried to get photos of Noah in a coma, I was allowed to fight again.
Climbing back up the ladder has been a long process, but every fight I win puts me another step closer to securing a rematch against The Constrictor. Although Lola knows the real reason I want to be on the top rung, she still supports me. She always watches me train, and sometimes she’s my sparring partner in the ring. We bounce off each other. I use her as motivation to fuel my revenge, and she uses the tricks I taught her in the self-defense class she runs at Hank’s Gym for battered woman.
When she first started, Lola, Hank, and I made up more than half her class, but as the months went on, and word got out that a woman was teaching the classes, the numbers soared. If they continue to grow at the rate they have the past six months, she'll need to look at hiring another instructor.
Lola’s non-profit business adventure isn’t the only one going gangbusters the past twelve months. Hank’s gym is kicking ass as well. His clientele are so diverse, there’s no chance his doors will close anytime soon. He’s putting the profits to good use. He has his own little house in Ravenshoe and is often included in family events like today—although I’m sure he wishes he wasn’t when he notices my hand getting a little friendly with Lola’s ass.
He still thinks Lola is my weak spot, but he’s also aware my wish to succeed in the cage doesn’t solely revolve around revenge. Lola still works at Pete’s bar, her self-defense class is run out of her own pocket, and we still live in her run-down apartment in the middle of the ‘burbs. Being the champion in my field will give me the means to spoil her like she deserves.
I could give her the world now if I had kept the money Noah sneakily placed in m
y bank account every month. It took me longer than I care to admit to figure out why the nest egg I built fighting with Isaac had grown larger than I expected. The reason was only discovered when Lola noticed the synchronized deposits at the same time on the same day every month. It was 3:43 PM on the seventh—the exact day and time Noah slid into the backseat of my dad's car, shivering like he was trekking through snow without boots.
Although I appreciate he was looking out for me, I immediately had a check drawn up in his name. Noah worked for everything he has earned, and I wanted to do the same. When he refused to take back the check, I told him I’d give it to his mother. He snatched it out of my hand so fast, it almost ripped in two.
When Lola, Emily, and Maddie go into the kitchen to get Maddie a drink, Noah joins me at the side of the room. “Were you teaching my daughter the finger?”
“No. I'd never do such a thing.”
He chuckles while rolling his eyes. After ensuring the coast is still clear, he leans in close to my side. “Did you get it?”
I run my hand over my pocket to ensure the ring box I’d placed in there earlier is still present before nodding.
“Are you crapping your pants?”
When I nod once again, Noah laughs. “What’s the worst she can say—?”
“No?” I interrupt. God, I really fucking hope she doesn’t say no.
Noah cocks a brow. “And where will that leave you?”
I look at him with a confused, almost constipated look on my face.
Spotting my turmoil, he strives to ease it. “Exactly where you are now.”
That's easy for him to say. He got the lovey-dovey sister. I fell in love with the more stubborn, bossier, and opinionated version of his wife. Does that mean I wish Lola were more like Emily? Definitely not. One of the main things I love about her is that she doesn’t take crap from anyone. She knows she won’t please everyone, so she lives her life the way she wants. It doesn’t make her selfish or a bitch; it makes her smart. The world we live in is ruthless, so Lola's ways of dealing with things are perfect.