Jaden

by Shayne Ford

  “Isabel!”

  My sister’s arms loop around me, her eyes twinkling with a smile. She was only fourteen when I left, and at the time, she couldn’t quite grasp what had happened, so it wasn’t easy to forget about me. Regardless, she had to abide by the family rules, and subsequently, we haven’t kept in touch all these years.

  “I’m so happy you are here. I was afraid you changed your mind. I didn’t see you last night.”

  “That’s because we arrived late.”

  “We? Where is the mysterious man?”

  I hesitate for a moment. Her expression shifts quickly.

  “Is it a woman?” she asks, a bit intrigued.

  “No, no. It’s a man. He’s, um... I think he’s at the beach. He’s probably swimming right now,” I say, giving her a small smile. “You’ll see him tonight.”

  “Okay.”

  She takes a step back and runs her eyes down on me.

  “You look... different.”

  “Good or bad?”

  “Good. I wish I’d look more like you.”

  “No, you won’t,” I say, chuckling softly.

  Blonde with hazel eyes, slender and feminine, she looks like a little princess. And chances are she’ll be one once she marries Lester Crown, one of the wealthiest men in Wyoming.

  She runs her fingers on my arm.

  “No, no, seriously. I’d like to be as fit as you are. You go to the gym, I imagine.”

  I give her a swift once-over.

  She wears a tailored, floral dress, which hugs her girlish figure and makes her look like a fashion model.

  “I do, but mostly to keep my head straight.”

  She laughs, a melodious sound falling from her lips.

  “It does a lot of good to your body too,” she says.

  “I guess... Where is Evelyne?” I ask, my throat suddenly dry.

  “They fly in tomorrow. Mom and dad arrive tonight. Adele and Mark are here. Nick will probably be here early afternoon. There are a lot of other people, but no one you know.”

  “Where is Lester?”

  “He flies in tomorrow afternoon. Business matters,” she says, smiling charmingly.

  I take her in for a moment.

  She sure turned out to be the way she was supposed to. The way my mom wanted all her girls to be. Poised, and delicate at the exterior, yet showing a lot of inner strength when dealing with family affairs.

  Evelyne, my older sister, is not far from the family mold either. Married to one of the most successful surgeons in Long Island, New York, a physician herself, she’s a classy woman, and undoubtedly, a go-getter.

  “Let’s take a seat at the table,” she says, nudging me to the terrace.

  I spend the next couple of hours with Isabel and her friends, talking about the engagement party, fashion trends, and the gorgeous, sunny weather.

  Early afternoon, they take seats at the bar inside, and I stroll back to the bungalow.

  The air is warm and dry, perfect for lounging on the beach.

  I climb the few stairs, walk inside and glance around. The place is empty. I peer outside, scanning the porch and the beach.

  Jaden is nowhere in sight.

  I kick off my shoes and peel off my dress. Wearing only a G-string and a matching low cut bra, I head to the shower.

  As I take a turn and saunter to the bathroom, the faint sound of a TV slips through a cracked door. I tiptoe to the back room, and quietly, I push the door open, praying it doesn’t creak like everything else in this place.

  He’s there.

  I zoom in on Jaden’s bare shoulder while craning my neck out to get a full view of him.

  He has one arm folded under his head, the other one stretched along his body, his hand moving rhythmically.

  I gasp.

  Is he doing what, um... I think he’s doing?

  I lean forward.

  Eyes closed, back crashed into a pillow, legs slightly parted, he raises one knee, his fingers sliding up and down onto his full hard on, his fist rubbing the chiseled crown.

  My heart stops and then it hammers, pumping blood with fury. I swallow a few times and lick my lips.

  Pleasure rolls over his face, the long, sensual, twisting moves making his hips rock slightly.

  I feel warm between my legs. He thrusts his cock against his fist, and all I do is, stare and clench my thighs.

  Breathing heavily, he quietly moans, his soft, nasal sounds electrifying my skin, making my sex swell. His hips jerk harder, every bit of his motion echoing in my core. His cock slides faster. I grip the doorknob with bloodless fingers.

  With every stroke, he arches his body, his muscles shifting smoothly beneath his inked skin. I lick and bite my lip, pressing my thighs together, relishing the wetness in my panties.

  “You know... You could join me,” he rasps, and my heart leaps to my throat.

  My breaths collapse.

  He flicks his eyes open and runs a lust filled gaze on me as he slowly takes me in.

  Lost for words, I gape at him.

  “Suit yourself,” he says after a moment, closing his eyes again.

  He slips back into his world, his hand caressing his shaft, my body responding to his moves and pleasure. He’s edging–– I can tell.

  Hand glued to the door, I hold my breath, indulging in every moment of his orgasm. My eyes peel wide as he tips his hips and shoots, the warm, creamy fluid spilling down his abs.

  I rush out, throbbing between my legs. A moment later I storm into the shower and turn the water on.

  I don’t know what scares me the most. The fact that I suddenly get turned on so easily or that it has to do with him.

  My hands and knees can’t stop trembling, my panties soaked between my thighs.

  This is gonna be a fucking mess.

  I take off the dress and toss it to the side.

  For fuck’s sake, it’s only a dinner. I walk back to the closet, sift through the hangers and retrieve another one. A sleeveless, knee length, black dress with a low plunging neckline.

  It screams anything but island fashion, but I can’t be bothered with it right now. I pull the dress on and spin in front of the mirror. Reaching back, I try to close the zipper.

  A warm hand slides on top of mine.

  “I’ll do it,” he says.

  I start to melt from the waist down.

  First, he brushes all my hair over one shoulder, and then he smoothly pulls the zipper up. Silent, he slants his gaze down while I observe him in the mirror.

  Decked out in tailored, black pants and a matching slim fit shirt with the neckline open and the crisp fabric falling perfectly on his athletic body, he makes my temperature spike.

  “How does it look?” I ask, waiting for his eyes to come back up and meet mine in the mirror.

  “It looks good,” he says without taking his eyes off my butt.

  “I mean the dress.”

  He glances up at me, smirking.

  “The dress looks good, too.”

  Slowly, I turn around, finding myself inches away from him. He doesn’t move. I still, unable to say a word or step away from him.

  His body heat rolls over me, the scent of his cologne and unadulterated masculinity, entering my lungs.

  Holding my gaze, he slides his hands into his pockets and silently observes me. His smile fades away, his expression gradually shifting.

  A hard edge bleeds in his gaze as if he seizes me with a fresh pair of eyes. It’s a dense, sexual stare, a reminder of who he is.

  It dawns on me I don’t know much about him, and he is not just any man I can toy with.

  “We need to go,” I say, my voice diluting in a quiver.

  “Why are you nervous?” he asks, calm.

  “Parents... family,” I say, evading his eyes, my nerves becoming even more and more evident.

  “Let’s go,” I say, anxiously sliding my hand onto his chest, nudging him to move.

  He doesn’t budge. I flick my gaze up and meet his eyes
.

  Stripped of warmth and softness, they seem carved in blocks of ice.

  “Jaden?”

  Without showing the slightest resemblance of emotion, he erases the small gap between us. I pull back a little, unexpectedly hitting the wall.

  My mouth falls open with surprise.

  “What are you doing?” I mutter, my pulse pounding in my neck.

  Silence meets my question, fueling a storm of panic.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Jaden?” I bark, the fear sobering me up.

  I try to push him away without success.

  Smoothly, he curls his hand around my neck, his lips coming closer to my ear.

  “You know exactly what I’m doing,” he says, sending a shudder through my bones.

  His palms slide onto the wall as he locks me with his body, his heat becoming mine while he pins me with his hips.

  A gasp falls from my lips as I feel his full, hard cock rubbing against me.

  “Is this what you’re looking for?” he mutters in my hair, his voice vibrating through my skin.

  I try to push him away again, not very convincing, yet still part of the game. Without the slightest hesitation, he slams his body into mine.

  I fight him. Oh, yes I do. I need him stirred up and angry while I surrender to his power. I need the desperation flowing through my veins, washing away the guilt. I need to feel as if there is no other choice, to feed the blazing fire in my blood and get turned on.

  The more I fight him, the hotter I get, and the closer to the moment of submission.

  He harshly grabs my hair and tips my face up, grinding into me. Despite layers of fabric, I intimately feel him.

  I gasp and groan and sink my nails into his back.

  His lips curve into a twisted grin.

  “I’ll give you what you want,” he says, his voice vibrating on my lips.

  I push against him, and he slams back into me, crushing my mounds against his torso, wedging his thigh between my legs.

  “Jaden...”

  My voice starts fraying.

  He pulls my hair back, forcing me to arch my neck, and then he slowly runs his tongue onto my skin.

  I moan and curve against him, yearning to feel his chest and cock. He rolls his hips, rubbing it against me.

  “Don’t fucking do that,” I say, desperate for relief.

  His force comes back to me, hurting my flesh, yet spurring so much pleasure. My scalp hurts, and my skin burns and all I want right now is him doing it.

  He flicks his tongue up the column of my neck, sending a river of pleasure to my sex.

  I moan softly, rocking my hips with his.

  “That night when you saw me...” he rasps, lifting my dress up and running his hand between my thighs.

  “Uh-huh,” I mumble, losing control fast.

  “Is that why you followed me? For this?”

  With one flick of a hand, he rips the panties off me.

  I gasp and scream, his hand flying to my mouth fast.

  I jolt against him, my bare flesh against his hand, his eyes burning through mine.

  “That’s what it was, wasn’t it?” he mutters, a dark smile curving his lips as I slam my body against him.

  He pins me with his weight, raising a firestorm inside me.

  “You fucking like it, don’t you?” he asks, his hand still clamped on my mouth.

  His eyes dig deep into mine. It feels as if he enters my soul.

  I briefly close my eyes in response.

  “You’ve fucking longed for it, haven’t you?”

  I slacken in his arms, giving him the answer.

  His fingers enter me, his lips trailing down my neck. He digs his fingers deep, and his teeth even deeper.

  A growl climbs out my chest.

  My neck hurts and then it stings as he sucks on the branded skin. I pulse around his fingers, washing him with warm arousal.

  “Mmm-hmmm...” he murmurs as he swirls his tongue down my neck and bites my shoulder.

  My nipples harden.

  “It feels good, doesn’t it?” he mutters, trailing my slit with his thumb as he curls his fingers inside me.

  I groan and growl against his palm, my body heading to a cosmic blast. I claw at his back and then his butt. I push myself against his fingers, willingly offering my neck, despite the smell of blood.

  His lips trail another path along my jawline, tingles swirling down my back all the way to my tailbone. I squirm and moan and push against him, clutching his hips.

  He peels his hand away from my face and lowers his mouth to me.

  “You can’t fucking wait, can you? Good. Me neither...” he says. “See, it’s not that hard, babe. You just have to get the right man,” he mutters, a sinister smile tugging at his lips.

  He’s good. I have to hand it to him. He’s damn good.

  He breaks away from me, leaving me a heap of churning heat, and heaving breathes.

  Smoothly, he starts unfastening his belt. I watch him with half-shut eyes as he pulls the belt out of the loops. He locks my wrists, ties them behind my back, and kicks a chair under my butt.

  Without a shred of emotion on his face, he runs his hands up my skirt and rolls it to my waist.

  His gaze lingers only for a second as he takes in my clean shaven folds. He kicks my legs apart, cold air licking my heated flesh. I start fussing in my chair. He fills his fist with my hair and bends over me.

  “You stay still, or I’ll fuck you up.”

  My hair bristles.

  He straightens, a dark, lustful smile claiming his lips, the line between play and real quickly becoming blurred.

  Holding my gaze, he works his fly open and lets his cock spring free. Of perfect girth and length, heavy in his fist and encased in the smoothest, silky skin, his shaft makes my insides clench. Round, tight balls, match his prize-winning cock.

  He wraps his hand around the root, and my lips part in anticipation as he teasingly starts to stroke it.

  I flick my gaze up. The most annoying, cocky grin lounges on his lips.

  Annoyed, I rattle the chair and try to pull my thighs together.

  “Don’t do that,” he barks, his gaze licking the swollen flesh between my thighs.

  Eyes rooted to my slit, he runs his tongue over the bottom lip. The image sears my brain, firing me up even more.

  Widening his stance, he plants his feet on either side of me and my chair and brings his shaft closer to my mouth. He threads his fingers through my hair, wrapping my locks around his wrist.

  His rock-hard crown touches my lips, the scent of his arousal rolling in my lungs. Swirling my tongue, I sweep the hot, smooth, chiseled head.

  He pulls away from me, his hand still in my hair.

  He grins, perversely amused.

  “You want it?” he asks.

  I glare.

  “How badly do you want it?”

  Gritting my teeth, I try to pull my hair out of his hand. It hurts, and he doesn’t let go of me.

  I growl with frustration. He chuckles softly.

  “Open your fucking mouth,” he rumbles as he finally lets his cock move back to my lips.

  I open my mouth. He slides his shaft in, and my tongue rolls on him, famished.

  “That’s fucking good,” he says as I start bobbing my head, washed with pleasure.

  He thrusts, and I take him deeper. I start sucking him, wishing my hands were free to stroke him.

  He hits the back of my throat repeatedly. I manage to control my gag reflex.

  “That’s unexpectedly good,” he says, a smile threading through his voice.

  He frames my face and rolls his hips. My gaze shoots up.

  Tipping his head back, he observes me with half closed eyes. Craning and arching my neck I take him in as much as I can.

  For minutes, he fucks my mouth–– solely to his liking. The less attention he pays to me, the more determined I am to make him come. As he scales up, my throbbing quickens.

 
I moan around his cock, his eyes flipping open just as he picks up the pace, holds my head with both hands and starts fucking me without restraint. I feel his shaft burning and hardening even more, and then bursting inside my mouth. Cum hits my throat, dripping over my taste buds, the spike of pleasure quickly becoming unstoppable.

  I rattle the chair, on the cusp of coming.

  He pulls out of my mouth, one hand wrapped around his shaft, the other reaching behind my back, untying me.

  Rushed, I slip my fingers between my legs and let the orgasm fall through me. A jolt goes through me and then another one, waves of pleasure lapping at my sex. I moan and shake and arch my body, not a second caring that he consumes me with his fiery eyes.

  It takes moments before I finally calm down. Slumped in my chair, I barely breathe.

  “Fuck...” I mutter, gasping.

  I feel the sweat lining my neck, and my hair damp, entangled. Drops of cum trickle on my dress.

  His zipper goes up.

  I look down, still heaving. I jolt with surprise when he snakes his arm around me and pulls me up.

  Wobbly on my feet, I lean on him, welcoming his arm wrapped around my waist and his hand in my hair.

  His thumb brushes my lip, sweeping cum. His eyes hold mine as he licks his finger, a secret smile coloring his gaze.

  “You’re good,” I say softly.

  His grin turns warmer as it lights up his eyes.

  “And you’re a rare kind of woman...” he says, leaning to me.

  His lips brush mine briefly before he places a feather-like kiss on my cheek.

  Spellbound, I watch him pull away, a flutter falling through my chest.

  “So what’s my name?” he asks.

  “You are who you are.”

  “What’s my occupation?”

  “You’re a writer.”

  He breathes out a soft laughter.

  “You like it?” I ask.

  “Sounds good. What’s your occupation?”

  “Editor.”

  “Editor?”

  “Yeah... It’s something boring that people never care about either.”

  “What exactly do you do?” he asks, serious this time.

  He pulls to a short stop in the middle of the petal-covered footpath, his eyes searching mine.

  “Other than hiring men for rough sex, what exactly do you do?” he says, not adjusting the volume of his voice.

  The twinkle in his eye gives him away.