"We'll…?"
"We'll start having sex."
"Jasmine, Jasmine, Jasmine," he chided in a pained voice. "We have been having sex."
"What do you mean?" Then she thought about it. Her eyes widened.
He expelled a long, shuddering breath. "God," he said, and flopped backward onto the bed.
She stood up, confused. Hesitated. And approached him.
He was lying there vulnerable and spreadeagled, his erect cock impossible to ignore, standing up right in the middle of his body. It throbbed. Yes, she could actually see it moving.
Without knowing what made her do it, she sat down on the bed, leaned over, and gently touched it.
"Fuck." Matt's entire body jolted and arced like a bow.
Startled, Jasmine jerked away. In a movement swifter than anything she'd seen him do, he caught her and pulled her down on top of him, extracting a shriek.
His body was hard. Chest, legs, arms, all of it. After the first paralyzing shock, she started scrambling up.
He tightened his arms.
"Matt, don't!"
Instantly, his hold relaxed—but only enough to let her prop herself up on her hands.
Being held this way should have freaked her out. But close up like this, she could see all the signs of arousal that she'd missed before: the sweat above his lip, his heavy-lidded eyes, his flared nostrils. He was right. She didn't know how, but somehow they'd been engaging in foreplay this whole time. She was pretty sure he was as turned on as she was at this point.
He said her name. She'd never heard him say it like that before.
Then his hand pushed hard on the globes of her buttocks, squishing her down on his cock, grinding her into him. His other hand pressed her head down so she had to lie on him fully, her face tucked into the crook of his neck.
And he kept saying her name, over and over.
It hit her in a dousing of euphoria that Matt, teasing, tormenting, unflappable Matt, was out of control with her. He did want her. Maybe even as much as she wanted him.
She felt her passage tighten, agonizingly hollow inside. Maybe he'll come all over me.
But she was wrong. Almost as soon as it had started, she found herself rolled onto her back and released.
He climbed out of the bed. His chest moved up and down like he'd just finished a ten-mile run. His hard-on looked positively painful.
"Okay," he said. "Okay. If you don't get those clothes off right now, I'm going to do it for you, and it won't be pretty."
Jasmine sat up. She swiftly took off her jacket, then her blouse. Then she knelt and shimmied out of her skirt and panties. One shoe had already fallen off onto the floor. She kicked the other one off.
Now all that remained was her chocolate-colored bra. She lifted her chin. "The bra stays on."
Matt had frozen. She knew he was looking at her body. Her honey-chocolate skin, her breasts still shielded in their small brown triangles, her nipped-in waist and rounded hips, the neatly trimmed mound of her pussy as she knelt on the bed. She knew she had an attractive body, very tall and slender and shapely; guys said so. But he wasn't assessing her. He was consuming her.
My God, she thought. He's a predator.
She wasn't afraid of him, but she had no doubt whatsoever that if he wanted to push her down and make her do anything he wanted, he could. Well, okay, maybe she was a little afraid of him. He had never looked at her that way before, as if he could easily ravage her without any regard for her willingness.
"Matt? Um…."
He dragged his gaze up to her face. Then he shut his eyes. "Shit. I'm not going to hurt you, Jasmine. Just give me a minute."
She was reassured. She also decided he had more patience than she did. Jumping on him was a possibility, but that wasn't what she really wanted. So she lay down and tried to look sexy.
She must have done something right, because he groaned. Yes.
Then:
"Oh, hell." Abruptly he turned and strode over to his closet. He picked up the briefs he'd discarded earlier and stepped into them. His next stop was the gray chest of drawers, out of which he yanked a pair of sweatpants.
"Matt? What are you doing?"
"I'm going on a run. You can stay here or you can come along with me. But if you stay, you're not leaving. And you're not getting dressed. You understand?"
"No," she said incredulously. "Why are you doing this?"
"You know why."
"No, actually, I don't."
"Then it doesn't matter. Just wait for me, all right?"
All of a sudden, she was furious. "Are you trying to act like a bastard? We're supposed to be doing the Challenge and you suddenly feel like going on a jog?"
She flung herself out of the bed, grabbed the pants from his hands and threw them down. A part of her mind wondered where her famed composure had gone. She didn't really care at the moment. "You've been making my life hell all week because you want me to do this stupid thing to prove some stupid point and now you walk out? Don't you dare. If you go now, I'm gone."
Matt stilled. "You think I'm just trying to prove a point?"
"Of course. Don't even pretend it's anything else."
"Right." His face went dark and he made some un-Matt-like, inarticulate sounds, then slammed a fist into his palm a few times. When she visibly jumped at the evidence that his composure had clearly gone out the window, he seemed to make an effort to master himself.
"Jasmine, sweetheart, why do you think I'm leaving if not for the Challenge? If it weren't for that fucking thing dictating what we're doing here, my cock would be all the way up your beautiful pussy right now. Only here's the real twister: we both know the Challenge is the only reason you're even here. So that leaves me in a dilemma, doesn't it?"
"I don't understand."
He reached behind her to grab her ass and press her against his erection. "This is stupid; it thinks you're here for it. But you're not. You're here for this." His palm slid around and graphically plastered her sex. "And so am I. Shit." He pushed her down on the bed, shoving her thighs apart, and then his mouth, his teeth were there on her clitoris, nipping, licking, sucking.
Jasmine exploded as he thrust several fingers inside her. It was precipitous, the sensations shuddering through her before she could begin to prepare, and she cried out.
"Get it?" With the same fingers dripping from her juices, he grabbed her hand and shoved it into the opening of his briefs and onto his shaft. "You fucking make me—just let me get myself under control so I don't go off like a teenager and then I can be with you again."
"But I'm supposed to—be the one—who gets you under—control," she panted, still shell-shocked by the assault on her own control. "Isn't that what the Challenge is about? Helping?"
"Not that kind of help. That's what running is for."
"But it's my job. Eight to midnight."
"Yeah, well, baby, you're not doing it very well. Do I look controlled to you?"
No. And that's all right by me. "Let me, anyway." Afraid that any moment he might regain his cool, Jasmine swiftly slid his briefs down to his ankles and took his cock between her hands. She squeezed hard, then knelt down and kissed it. She licked wetly up and down its length and checked to see the effect.
Matt's face had gone utterly expressionless.
Never before had Jasmine been so grateful for her sexual experience. Although not exactly extensive and only occasionally satisfying, it was still sufficient to have taught her how to control a man's lust. She stroked Matt's belly, then his thighs, and then tenderly cupped his balls. Once more, she took him between her hands and then opened her lips over the velvety head and slowly slid it fully into her mouth.
"Dammit, Jasmine, do you want me to come? Because it's going to happen."
Yes. Yes, I do. I don't care about the Challenge. I just want to know you want me as much as I want you.
But she didn't tell him that. Instead, she chose sarcasm. "Just try harder. Really use some of that precious self-discipline, Mat
t." She lathered her saliva all over him, and then, rolling her lips over her teeth, she began to make love to him with her mouth, drawing him in and out in a seductive rhythm, a choreography she'd envisioned performing with him from the very beginning. Trying to make him lose control.
His body began to quake. When her fingers drifted up his chest and stroked across one flat masculine nipple, his hands clutched at her head, holding her.
But the next second he slipped out of her mouth and kind of staggered, almost tripping on his fallen underwear. "I can't take anymore. That's enough."
He was determined not to come, damn him. And for once, she'd actually been enjoying herself, looking forward to—well, she wasn't going to rape him to get him to come in her mouth.
He bent over double, clutching himself.
"Are you okay?"
"No."
Then he straightened and she saw his hands moving rapidly over his shaft.
"Jesus," she whispered.
"If you're not—going to let me go—on a run—then fucking get me a towel, Jasmine."
Shock went through her as his intentions registered. She looked around wildly, snatched a pillow off the bed, tore off the pillowcase, and thrust it at him almost violently.
He grabbed her by the arm and wrapped her hand around himself. She squeezed him instinctively through the cloth and with a kind of appalled disbelief felt his body surge. At the moment he came, there was nothing on his face—no pleasure, no pain, just blank.
Afterward, his breath jerking shallowly, he opened his eyes and regarded her intently for a while. She wondered if her fury and confusion showed. What was all that about? Why didn't you just come in my mouth?
"Stay here," he said quietly and went out of the room. When he returned, she was twisting, clutching her waist, trying to understand what had just happened.
He faced her without expression. Then he seemed to shake himself, as if remembering something important. He turned, went over to his desk, and jiggled the mouse. The screen lit up. In the dead silence, she heard the clicks and then the whir of a printer. He pulled out several sheets of paper.
"Matt…."
"Hold on." He sounded calm now. Steady. Now he was rummaging in his closet. He removed a plastic shopping bag. It crinkled almost obscenely in the quietness. From within, he pulled out a package.
He tossed it to her. "Open that." His tone was almost pleasant.
She caught the small object, glanced down. Some kid's toy. She looked back up, bewildered.
Then: "What's this?" as he handed her the papers, too.
"Lab tests from the doctor. And something I wrote a couple of years ago. I'd like you to tell me what you think."
His freakish normalcy was killing her. As if nothing earth-shaking had happened between them.
"Matt, don't. I don't want it. Or this. Just—stop."
"What's the problem?"
"What's the problem? What you did was crazy. We were about to have sex and you…just…."
"Ah. First time watching a guy jack off in front of you, Jas? You amaze me."
Her cheeks flamed.
"Nothing's changed. We're still going to have sex. Just this time, I'm not going to go ballistic on you. That should make you happy."
Happy? Happy? When he'd just disposed of his mouth-watering hard-on with his own hands, only allowing her a token caress at the end, refusing to let her be the one that made him lose it? Frustrating blockhead.
"Wouldn't you rather me to do that for you?" she bit out. "Instead of your hands and a pillowcase?"
Long pause. Then he smiled. "Absolutely. Desperately, sweetheart. More than anything in the goddamned world."
That knocked her back. Was he joking?
"Tonight isn't about what I'd rather, though, is it? We both know you're here on sufferance. If I make one wrong move, you're gone," he quoted deliberately.
Then what is tonight about? She opened her mouth to ask the question, but thought twice of it. She knew the answer would hurt. A fun time. Getting you to loosen up.
But she had to tell him. "I wanted to make you come. In my mouth."
She couldn't believe she'd said that. Oh, the weapon she'd just given him. She fisted her hands, feeling that panic start again.
He studied her levelly. "I'll keep that in mind." Then he tapped her hand holding the papers. "Take a look."
Automatically, she glanced down.
The doctor's report was dated five months ago. Jasmine said unsteadily, "You get yourself tested regularly?"
"That surprises you?"
It seemed not to fit in with the casual Matt she knew. "It's good that you do that." And what about since September?
"Oh, I'm not always a…how do you put it, now? Happy-go-lucky gigolo with sophomoric goals?"
Jasmine winced at having one of her more spiteful slams tossed back to her. If she recalled correctly, she'd been in full PMS mode that day and Matt had merely smiled. It surprised her that he even remembered it.
She looked down quickly at the last sheet of paper. A few lines of text, quick to skim. The words jumped out in dreamlike sequence and she didn't know what to make of it. "That's…intense. Tigers. Is it poetry?"
He didn't answer. She looked around, then saw he'd gone to the bed. He was sprawled out deliciously on his back, cupping his hands behind his neck, looking warm and inviting and maddening.
"You really wrote that?" she asked. "Why?" And why did you show it to me?
He shrugged. "Same reason to write anything. So it's read."
"It's disturbing."
"Yeah. Now that." He nodded. "Open it."
She jumped, remembering the package in her other hand and held it up again. Oh. Her brows rose.
Not a kid's toy.
"You're not serious."
"Brand new. Go on, open it."
"You bought a vibrator?" She held it away from herself.
He sounded injured. "Dildo. Entirely manual. I thought you wouldn't appreciate a used one. All those cutting comments about my harem. I have a very nice arsenal." He made a vague gesture toward the closet. "Nothing really right for you, though."
She threw the package at him. It hit him on the stomach. He laughed, sitting up. "Come here, Jasmine."
She should walk out, she told herself. He was acting pretty cocky now that his frenzy was over. As if he'd never writhed and panted on her and shoved his face in her sex. But he had.
She lifted her chin to show him she wasn't going to let him forget.
His face changed. No laughter now. He held his hand out to her, like he'd done in the hallway, palm up.
Inviting? Ordering?
"I won't hurt you, Jas. No. Scratch that. It's done. No promises. But I'll try not to again. If you will just…come…here."
No. Neither of those.
Begging.
She nodded slowly.
He grabbed her arm the moment she was within reach. "Will you take off your bra?"
She paused. She'd forgotten; how bizarre she must look walking around naked except for that. But she had her reasons.
Nose piercings are for rebelling against a daddy. Nipple piercings are for needing one.
From the beginning, Matt had had the unexpected ability to hurt her.
When he'd thrown out the casual remark while hanging out with Jasmine and Sara almost two years ago, he hadn't been referring to Jasmine at all, but another girl. He couldn't have known she was still healing from having her own nipples pierced, that his dismissive attitude toward "pseudo-rebellious little girls" would strike directly at her. There was no way he could know about her piercings. None of her friends did.
He'd just been making casual conversation.
But even back then, she didn't feel casual about him.
She shook her head.
He pulled her down on top of himself.
"Are they that hideous, then?"
She didn't answer as his hand made deep strokes down her back, nudging her bottom to settle her into the
clasp of his legs.
"Funny, you never struck me as shy. Let's see. The moment you met me, you just had to get my name tattooed on your left tit."
She let out a deep breath.
"No. Wait. I have it. You have inverted nipples. Not a problem. I'll just have to suck extra hard."
"Matt, stop it."
His brows lifted. "Stop what? This?" And his fingers slid into her sex from behind.
Jasmine moaned.
And then she was on her back. Matt was ripping open the package—or trying to, cursing. "Why the hell do they stuff these things in this way? Scissors are like condoms; they're kinkless." Finally the package sprang apart.
"Matt, why are you opening that?"
He ignored her. "It's pink. I've never seen you wear pink." He flipped the dildo around. "I would have gotten gold if they'd had it. Come to that, I'd have made you one out of maple if I'd had time."
"Matt, you are not using that thing on me."
"I'm not? Spread your legs a little…more…more…there. Oh, Jasmine. That's pretty."
The surreal moment would always be etched in her mind, she knew. Matt, her good friend, the man who tormented her unmercifully, was kneeling over her, holding her thighs widely spread, parting the lips of her vulva, studying her.
He closed his eyes briefly. "That's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." She saw his Adam's apple move up and down.
"Stay here. Just like that. I want to wash this thing. You can touch yourself if you want."
He dropped a kiss on her navel. Then he was gone.
He was back before she had a chance to do more than contemplate whether or not to obey his order.
Given that he was again sporting a full erection, though, she didn't think he was thinking with his ego. She let her fingers drift along her hip and between her sex lips and shivered to see she'd captured his attention.
She carefully looked for the signs this time. There it was—a bead of sweat on his upper lip. His chest rising a bit too high. Did his hand tremble as he braced himself on the mattress? She wasn't sure.
He arranged himself cross-legged between her widely splayed legs, giving her quite a view. Even for her, mistress of poise, it was impossible not to gawk.
"So. Have you ever used one of these things?" He ran the bulbous tip of the dildo across the top of her thigh. It felt smooth and cool, made of hard plastic.
Leakage: A Friends-to-Lovers Romance Page 5