Cut So Deep: Break So Soft Duet
Page 18
He stops again and I see a familiar emotion cover his face. Familiar because I see it in the mirror on my own face regularly—shame.
“Eventually, I saw him for who he truly is. But not before he dragged me down with him. I did things I’m not proud of. To get out of the bed I’d made with him, I had to sacrifice Dad’s patent. You aren’t the only one who’s made mistakes in the past, Callie. And trust me,” again those piercing dark blue eyes hit mine. “My sins are far worse than any you’ve committed.”
He’s still got that commanding gaze on me when he says, “Come work for me. Don’t stay at Gentry Tech. Bryce Gentry’s not just a bad man. He’s dangerous, Callie.”
I shake my head, feeling like my brain is still full of champagne bubbles. “You say you don’t like games. I know I certainly don’t. But this feels like one, between you and Bryce. Like I’m a game piece even though I don’t even understand how.”
Jackson shakes his head in one decisive movement. “It’s why I want you. You aren’t trying to play. You’re genuine. Do you know what a rare quality that is?” He reaches over and cups my face in the light of a lamp. “This world is so ugly, but you’re innocent.”
I pull back. I can tell he means it as a compliment, but it doesn’t feel like one. Not to mention he’s dead fucking wrong. “Don’t patronize me,” I say. “Just because I’m young doesn’t mean I haven’t been through shit.”
Jackson holds up his hands. “I know. I know. That’s what makes you even more extraordinary. It’s not like you’ve been shielded from life, but still you’re…” he pauses, staring at me with something akin to wonder. “You’re extraordinary,” he repeats.
My heart swells at the words even while at the same time they feel too slick, too perfect. Even though those aren’t ideas I’d usually associate with Jackson. He’s not the flatterer like Bryce. From everything I’ve seen in my short association with him, what you see is what you get.
I shift uncomfortably on my heels and then rub my forehead. “I don’t understand. You say you’re offering something different from Bryce. So what was that in the limo?” My confusion must show on my face.
Jackson’s eyes heat at the reference. “Any personal relationship you and I might share—” I can’t help the way my eyes pop at the word relationship, “—or not share is completely independent of the work you’ll be doing at CubeThink. One has nothing to do with the other. We’d put it in writing with the HR department. Complete disclosure. Everything will be transparent and on the up and up. I assure you, as an employer, I’m only interested in your intellectual abilities.”
I sit down on a nearby bench that overlooks the pond, my legs suddenly feeling too much like jelly to stand on.
He’s interested in me for my intellectual abilities?
“Really?” I hate myself for the fragile hope that is so obvious in the single word. Jackson just nods as if it’s self-evident as he sits beside me. He sits close enough that his knee touches mine, and I hate that I notice the heat of his touch, even through our clothes. He’s just such a presence. Impossible to ignore.
“Of course. Your professionalism, passion, and understanding of the field as well as your almost-finished degree from Stanford make you an attractive candidate for any company. You saw that tonight. The fact that I’d be grabbing you out from under Bryce’s nose is just an added bonus.” The edge of his lip turns up in a smile.
“Oh.” Understanding finally hits. He just went on and on about how he liked me because I don’t play games, but here he is, doing exactly that. This isn’t about me or my set of skills. This is about sticking it to Bryce. God. I was stupid to think anything else even for a moment.
I shake it off. It doesn’t matter. If I can get out from Bryce’s thumb and do honest work for good pay, it’s fine. It’s all fine.
I stand up and straighten the front of my gown.
“Well, if that’s all, Mr. Vale, thank you for a…” I’m about to say lovely evening, but obviously that would be a bald-faced lie. “An experience,” I finish with a laugh, ready to go.
“Why do I have the feeling you’re willfully misunderstanding me again?” Jackson stands as well, grabbing me around the waist and yanking me toward him until we are chest to chest and forehead to forehead.
“I want you, in every possible way the word can be understood. Forget about work for a minute. Let’s talk about the personal now. Because tonight was just the beginning. You’re going to be in my bed, Calliope. On my desk. Against my wall.”
His voice is dark and full of promise. It sends thrilling chills zinging up and down my body. He’s not finished, either. “You’re going to be begging me to come. In fact, you’re going to get very familiar with the concept of taking what I give. I’ll spank all this refusal to ask for help out of you if it’s the last damn thing I do.”
Okay, he’s just ticking me off now. I’m about to tell him so, too—
But before I can get a word out, lips close on mine. And it’s not like earlier in the car. This time I’m not meek or overwhelmed. I’m not a crying mess.
I bite his lip. He makes a surprised noise and yanks away.
But I grab his face and pull him back to my lips for another long, bruising kiss. I press my entire body against him, soft against hard.
He pushes his thigh between my legs and I yank up my dress so I have enough slack to thrust my core where I need him most.
I’m still swollen from my earlier climax and within seconds I’m right there again, hovering at the edge. I groan and all but ride his leg as I pant against his lips.
God, finally.
Here’s a man who wants me without any weird fucking pretenses. I didn’t even know how much I needed this until now. After things being so screwed up with Bryce and God, even David. I always tried to convince myself that David’s and my relationship was based on more than sex, but I can see that now for the lie it was. Whenever I tried to talk to him about substantive things or if I was ever upset, he just said he’d make me feel better and then start touching me. I came about half of the time—it wasn’t a priority to David so it wasn’t to me either.
But tonight. Tonight feels different from every sexual experience I’ve ever had before. The way Jackson’s attention is so focused on me. The way he held me earlier while I cried. Each attentive touch now.
This is a wanting that feels clean and good—my breath hitches as his tongue circles my nipple—which doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel hot and dirty as hell all the same.
Jackson’s hands grasp my waist, lifting me up and into him as he devours me just as hungrily back. After another few seconds, he hikes me up even higher, supporting me with his strong arms underneath my thighs.
I immediately wrap my legs around him and he carries me back toward the house. He barely stops kissing me the entire time and I grow hotter and hotter with each step. The incredible strength of this man. The way he commands with every touch.
When we’re inside, he slides the glass door shut and then drives my back up against it, pressing his weight into me in a way that has me squirming against him for more friction. He breaks from my lips and nips at my ear.
“Where do you want it, beautiful girl? On the couch? Up against this glass right here? In my bed? Your first time with me should be just the way you like it.”
I’m torn between being moved that he’s asking and wanting to tell him to shut up and just fuck me already.
“That depends…” I say, working the buttons on his fancy white dress shirt before meeting his hot, blue gaze. I drop my legs from around his waist and slide down his body. Then, my eyes still locked with his, I reach for the front of his trousers and continue, “…on whether you’re a tits or ass man.”
He growls and tries to reach around for my ass.
“Ah, ah, ah,” I laugh and back away. “I thought I was running this show.”
I hurry around to the back of the couch and lean my elbows on it, ass out. I glance over my shoulder at him.
Prickles spike up and down my arms. My heartbeat races even quicker than it already was and the heat that’s pooled in my stomach sinks lower and hotter.
By the time he grabs hold of my hips from behind, I swear I’m all but yowling like a cat in heat. He yanks me back and grinds his hardness against my ass. Then I feel the lightest touch of his fingers at my spine near the top of my dress and hear the quiet snick of him unzipping it. The next second, the bodice of my gown which had been hugging my torso is loose.
Where I expect Jackson’s touch to be rough, jerking the gown off me, he’s instead gentle. He coaxes the fabric off my arms and down my hips. It slips to the floor in a swish of chiffon fabric. Then I’m standing there in only my red bra and panties.
Again, Jackson’s hands are soft on my body. Almost reverent as he starts at my shoulder and then traces the curves downward, sliding his hands over my breasts, cresting my nipples with a quick pinch and then dropping further south until he’s sliding my underwear down my hips.
My breath comes in stunted gasps as my sex is exposed. Especially when, after my underwear has joined the pool of fabric on the floor, he starts back up my legs.
He bends over and kisses his way up. When he gets to my most private of places, he pushes me down farther over the couch, exposing me completely.
And then his mouth starts to explore.
Oh. My. God. Pleasure ripples up and down my entire body.
First he licks around my entrance before diving his tongue inside. My back arches and I cry out as he tongues around my clit. I have to grab onto the couch so I don’t lose my balance when he starts sucking on that taut bundle of nerves because, I shit you not, he makes me weak in the knees is not just a saying.
Oh God, oh God, it feels— I can’t even— If he stops, I swear I’ll—
I can’t even be embarrassed about the high-pitched keening cry that escapes my throat when he adds a finger inside me as he continues to suck on my clit. His fingers find that perfect place inside while he sucks outside and that does it.
I shake and then my whole body spasms as I come hard.
So hard the world goes white, but it's not just for a moment. It's one pulse, and then another, and another, and—
I can’t breathe, and I’m not sure if my heart is beating and my whole body is one long contracting spasm of pleasure, and oh God, I’ve never felt anything like this before in my life.
Finally I gasp in a breath and my vision starts to clear again. I have a death grip on the top of the couch cushions. A moment before I wasn’t sure my heart was beating at all but now it’s going triple time.
I’m gasping as I glance over my shoulder at Jackson. He looks very self-satisfied as he wipes his mouth on his forearm. He’s mostly naked now except for his boxers.
An aftershock quivers through my body at the sight. His shoulders are insanely broad and while he’s not overly muscled, it’s more muscles than I’ve ever seen on a man in real life. And to my shock, his arms are covered in tattoos. Pictures of barren, alien landscapes and oddly shaped, monstrous animals.
He sees my eyes taking in the tattoos. “I went through a phase,” is all he says.
He tries to kiss me but I pull back, not done looking him over. He’s got washboard abs and—my eyes drop down toward his V.
A genuine, sculpted V that leads to…
“Fuck me,” I whisper. Then my eyes flick back up to his and I swear, I’ve heard people talk about a haze of lust, but I’ve never felt it before now. “Get that cock out and fuck me with it. Now.”
He doesn’t smile or laugh. But I do see his eyes flare. And when I look in his hand, he’s already got a condom out. Good boy.
“Now,” I say even more urgently.
He doesn’t bother with any more pretty words. He pushes his boxers down and releases what is most definitely a cock that was created for fucking. It’s big and thick. Not monstrously so, but pretty goddamned perfect in my book. Long and even and standing at attention for me. For me.
I can’t help but to lean back and run my hand up and down it. Jackson jerks at my touch and lets out a hiss. He throws his head back as I stroke him, but only for a moment.
“Enough,” he bats my hand away. “I have to be inside you.”
I nod and then he’s putting on the condom. His eyes meet mine and all I see is hot wanting. And hell, I’ve never wanted anything more than I want him in this moment.
He steps into me and teases me, rubbing his cock along my opening, wetting himself with my juices. I whine at his teasing, but he doesn’t make me wait. The next second, he’s shoving inside of me.
It’s not a gentle probing to ease his way in either. No, he just fucking shoves all the way home, burying himself. I gasp at the sting and stretch as my body accommodates him, but that only adds to the thrill of it.
“Fuuuuuuck,” he breathes out from behind me. He leans his chest against my back and wraps one arm around my waist, the soft bristle of his chin nuzzled into the back of my neck. He holds that position for several insanely long moments, buried to the hilt.
He’s everywhere—surrounding me, inside me—and I feel, I feel… I swallow and am suddenly blinking back tears again.
Because I’ve never felt anything like this before. It’s overwhelming. So much pleasure, yeah, but also, it’s also… like I’m safe, like nothing could ever touch me when I’m surrounded like this.
I still feel it even when he eventually pulls back and slips out of my body. Because then he’s pushing right back in, claiming my body again and again with each thrust. His large hands hold me with such assurance, like he was born to command my frame.
I’ve been naked with men before, but never this naked. And suddenly, I don’t know if I can continue.
It feels good, God, so good, but it’s so much. Maybe too much too soon. He’s a man and every man I’ve ever known has let me down. Betrayed me. Do I really think Jackson will be different? I’m not that girl. I’m not the girl who believes in fairytales. Not even for a night.
But just when I want to pull away from him and make some lame excuse about how I need to go, Jackson’s strong fingers turn my face so I’m looking over my shoulder at him. He shoves in deep again and then he kisses me while he cradles my face.
And I melt.
My brain shuts off.
It’s all just sensation.
And him.
Jackson. Jackson, oh God, Jackson.
In me.
Surrounding me. Just him. All him.
He kisses me and the hand cupping my cheek drops down to massage my breast. The pumping rhythm of his hips never lets up. I didn’t think it was possible to have three in one night, but when his hand drops even further and starts to circle my clit, that insatiable tide starts to rise again.
He plays my body like an instrument he’s spent years intimately familiar with. I can’t question it. All my energy pours into every cell of my body, and when I burst this time, it’s with him gazing into my eyes. I see the taut strain on his face as he lets himself go in the same moment.
Do fucking universes collide? I don’t fucking know. I’m sure someone put it that way once and a bunch of other loopy bullshit runs through my sand-blasted brain as Jackson carries my exhausted body to his bedroom.
He lays me down and then his big, warm body is beside mine. I nestle into him because I need a buffer against the chaos of my thoughts. I still don’t have the energy to even begin sorting through them.
For once in my life, I won’t worry. I won’t overanalyze. Instead, I embrace the haze and complete satiation of my body.
I burrow further against Jackson and I sleep.
Chapter Thirteen
I wake up slowly. I blink a couple times just long enough to see that it’s light out and then close my eyes again. Thank God Charlie is giving
me just a few more minutes to sleep. He’s usually climbing into my bed and jumping on me right after dawn. Maybe he’ll start sleeping later now that he’s older. Oh God, that would be amaaaaaaazing.
I twist over to burrow into my pillow more. My body sinks into the luxurious mattress and I snuggle the comforter around me. Mmmm, it’s so soft, it’s like snuggling with clouds.
But—wait, what?
My mattress is total crap. It bows in the middle and there’s that spring that pokes me if I shift on it wrong.
My eyes immediately shoot open and I force myself to a sitting position. My eyes skitter all around the lavish room. Like the rest of the house, all the furniture in the room is antique, but I guess there is a mix of modern. There’s no heavy brocade or outdated dark wallpaper. No, the walls are a warm, textured coffee color. Slatted wooden window shades hang in the windows.
Then of course, there’s the giant four-poster bed that I’m lying smack in the center of. I look over at the indent on the bed beside me and my air catches in my lungs. Tentatively, I run my hand over the spot. Still warm.
Okay, Cals. No more distracting myself from what happened last night by appreciating the man’s decorating taste. Me and Jackson Vale… Oh my God. I flop backwards on the bed and cover my face with my forearm. My cheeks flame remembering some of the things that happened last night.
In the light of day, I can barely believe any of it was real. Except here I am, in Jackson Vale’s giant bed. And when I twist my legs, I feel a soreness there that speaks of a night of… um, well… athletic passions is probably the best way to put it.
I press my palms to my heated cheeks. At least Jackson isn’t here to witness my morning- after face.
Which brings out a slew of other thoughts. Number one: I never washed off my makeup last night and I must look like a scarecrow-freak at this point. And number two: Jackson isn’t here. A glance at the clock beside the bed shows it’s seven-forty-five. That’s sleeping in for me. Charlie wakes me up at five-thirty or six at the latest.