by Remy Rose
“Nope.” Kelly shakes her head. “I’m sorry, sweetie...I know what you’re trying to do here, but all I’m hearing is ‘head’ and ‘coming.’ Plus, I’ve got all the deets from what my big sis told me. So it’s not working. But if he’s anything for you like he was with her, you’ll be coming up with all sorts of honey-do lists.”
Delaney, who can read me like I’m transparent, jumps in to change the subject. “It looks like things are progressing just fine up here, but can we please check out the kitchen again? Because...cake pops.”
I’ve made too many which is just fine with everyone, because they’re all in the mood to eat too much. We’re stuffed, so we unbutton our shorts and sprawl out on the couches for a game of Bananagrams, deciding it would be way more fun if we tried to make dirty words. Even with this, even though we’re howling with laughter over Jordan’s creation of twat and Laney trying to defend her spelling of fallic, I’m obsessing over Kelly’s sister and her supposed alliance with Jack.
I think she got in deeper than she intended and had a tough time when he ended it.
What if the same thing happens to me? Or what if this experience cheapens me—changes my opinion of myself?
Uneasiness pools into the pockets of doubt inside of me.
Amanda takes the stick from her cake pop out of her mouth and points it at me. “Hey, pumpkin. What’s up? You’re awful quiet.”
“Just wondering if I should go through with this.”
“With the renovation guy? I think you should have some fun with it, Madeline,” Jordan says. “He’s gorgeous, he’s available, and you like him, right?”
“Right. I’m just a little stressed that...” My voice fades.
Kelly reaches across Delaney on the sofa to squeeze my knee. “Aw, honey, I hope what I said about my sister didn’t scare you off. It was really her issue, because he was totally up front with her about how their relationship would go. She just...got attached, I guess.”
Laney chimes in. “As long as you know going in that this is just a short-term sexcapade between two consenting adults, you should be fine. Keep the focus on the sex—just enjoying the sex, because I hear that’s what people do—and you won’t have a thing to worry about.”
I’m feeling a little bit better. I weave through the tangle of memories in my brain to retrieve what Jack had said to me: I’m exclusively theirs for the duration of the project...I’m not in the business of messing anyone up.
This will be a few weeks of monogamous sex. And no one will get messed up.
Smiling at Delaney, I tell her I think I can do it.
“Atta girl,” Amanda booms. She raises her beer mug. “To mindless sex.”
Jordan lifts her glass, giggling. “To making wholesome family games R-rated.”
I hold up my wine glass, sparks of excitement bursting inside me. “To guys who know how to use their tools.”
They all raise their glasses, cheering loudly, and I am so very ready to see Jackson Decker again.
Chapter 15 ~ Jack
July 27
She’s done it again so I have to tamp down both my arousal and my smile. The second she walks in the room, I’m hit with three simultaneous jolts of reality:
1: She’s the hottest woman I’ve ever seen.
2. She gets hotter every time I see her.
3. She’s also fucking adorable, which somehow adds to her hotness factor.
The adorable part comes in because she’s all dressed up and has the professional thing going on, but she’s yet again got a spot on her silky white blouse, which I notice right away since I’m obviously looking at her breasts. Her shirt is sleeveless and shows off her tanned, toned arms. She’s wearing a clingy black skirt with white zigzag lines—it hugs her hips and ass, going all the way to the floor, and an image of me pulling it up around her waist flashes across my brain. Her hair looks sleek, burnished, like she’s brushed it over and over to make it gleam. I want my hands up in it.
I want my hands all over her.
I feel my cock harden, thinking of how she has no idea what I’m going to do to her tonight.
Not a fucking clue. It’s going to kill me to wait, but I’ll exercise control, because I want the anticipation to build, and I also don’t want her knowing just how much she gets to me. That’ll have to stay my own little secret.
So I tamp down my arousal and the feeling of being so damned happy to see her, and all my self-control just about goes out the window when she smiles at me.
It’s like she’s glowing from the inside out—her face pinking up and her eyes sparkling, and I feel like a dick because here I am not letting her read me, while she’s an open book.
“Hey,” she says, and just that one word is warm and smoky. Her eyes flick all over me, like she hasn’t seen me in months. Got to admit—it does feel that way, even though it’s only been five days.
“Hey there. Just finished putting the first coat of mud on the walls.”
Madeline nods, folding her arms across her chest and sweeping her gaze around the room before settling on me again. “Looking very nice. And the bathroom does, too.” She winks.
“Well-played.”
She holds up her finger and chalks up an imaginary point.
I grin. “I should be ready to start tiling the shower next week.”
“Great. So I’m guessing you’re still on schedule to finish in a few weeks?” Her tone is casual, with hint of forced cheerfulness.
“Should be. Sorry I didn’t get over here Thursday or Friday...I was working at another client’s house.” True story, but I’ll leave out the part about how I felt like I needed to stay away from her for a bit.
And about how I wanted to text her but didn’t.
And about how the intensity of my attraction to her blows me away.
She steps carefully over the extension cord to get closer to me and points to my t-shirt. “Mudding looks like messy business.”
“So does eating.” I wink as I point to her blouse.
Her dark eyes widen as she blushes and looks down at her chest. “Damn, did I do it again?”
“It wouldn’t be you if you didn’t.”
“You’re making it sound like you know me quite well, Jack.”
“After last Wednesday, I feel like I do know you quite well, Madeline.” Lust, like liquid fire, begins a slow burn in my blood. Man, I’ve got to touch her. I unfasten my tool belt, let it fall to the floor and walk toward her. She puts her arms across her like she’s hugging herself, and I love this, because she’s getting all keyed up.
Standing inches away from her, I drop my voice low. “I know the sounds you make,” I say, reaching out to graze her chin with my fingers and making her shudder. “I know the feel of your nipple between my fingers.” I’m staring deep into her eyes, so deep I feel like I’m being pulled into them. I’ve never really looked at anyone so close that I notice there’s a starburst in the iris, but I’m noticing this now, with her—and noticing the way her pupils are dilating.
She’s hugging herself tighter, and I can’t help but chuckle.
“You trying to shield yourself from me, Callaway?”
“No,” she says, raising her chin like a little girl. She puts her arms at her sides. Her hands are in fists.
“Good, because I want to put my hands on you. You okay with that?”
She casts her gaze to the ceiling, blushing and smiling like she can’t believe I’m for real. I’m grinning, too, because we both know she’s more than okay with that. I begin unbuttoning her blouse, realizing that my fingers are chalky with dried sheetrock mud. I pause.
“Callaway. I’ve got to apologize for putting my unclean hands on your very nice white top. I’m guessing silk and Talbot’s?”
“Rayon and Kohl’s,” she corrects me breathily. “But good try.”
“On second thought, my hands don’t really matter. You’ve got your lunch on it anyway, right?”
“Ughh, STOP,” she protests, but she’s laughing.
/>
I bend down to kind of scoop her in my arms. I like the feel of her like this—soft, pliable, like she’s molding her body to mine. My nose in her hair, I breathe in the scent of her shampoo. She smells like a walk on the beach: coconut and warm sand and sun.
I put my mouth to her ear. “So I do know you quite well, Madeline Callaway. I know the taste of your tongue. I know how wet you get. And tonight...” I brush my lips against her cheek. “I want to taste how wet you get.”
She’s trembling against me. I hear a very faint ohh...God that makes my cock stir and my pulse skyrocket. Pulling her tighter into me, I cover her mouth with mine, claiming her. It’s rough, hungry, an I missed your lips and I’m going to show you how much kind of kiss, and I’m about to pull up her skirt when she puts her hands on my chest and pushes back.
“Wait, Jack,” she says huskily, swiping her hand at her cheek where a few strands of hair are clinging. “Sorry...I’ll be right back.”
I watch her scurry into the hallway. Guarantee she’s going to use the guest bathroom, and I’m guessing she’s going to “freshen up.” Hearing the water running confirms my hunch. I have to grin; I have yet to meet a woman who isn’t paranoid about being fresh as a daisy before any action. I wish they wouldn’t worry—I mean, I totally appreciate cleanliness and give the same in return, but Jesus, they don’t seem to realize the individual, unique scent and taste of a woman is such a fucking turn-on. I’d rather have that than soap or perfume. But it’s important that she’s comfortable, and another thing I’ve learned about Madeline Callaway is that she likes things planned out, in a certain order.
I’ll consider it my challenge to change that.
In the meantime—one good turn deserves another. While she’s in the bathroom, I scoot downstairs to the kitchen to wash the mud off my hands. Her orange cat is sitting on the table. I know he’s not supposed to be there, but he’s squinting at me all cute, and I’ve grown pretty fond of the little guy. “Don’t worry, dude,” I say. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
My buddies would tease the shit out of me if they knew I was using hand cream, but I’ve been doing that for the past week or so. This type of work roughs up your skin, so I’ve been careful to make sure my hands are smooth. Women don’t really appreciate feeling like they’re being scraped with sandpaper. So...hand cream.
When I get back upstairs to the bedroom, Madeline’s sitting on her bed, feet crossed at the ankles and hands clasped in her lap. No doubt about it; she’s nervous, and there’s that jolty feeling in my gut again, like I want to wrap my arms around her. Just seeing her like this with that vulnerable look on her face, the bloom of pink in her cheeks and in the V of skin where her blouse is open, makes me hard.
“Pretty pathetic, being nervous in your own bedroom.” She gives a little laugh as she shakes her head.
“I’d say you can drop the ‘pathetic,’ because it’s just plain pretty. Also, very cute.”
She flashes me a sheepish smile as I approach her—those dark eyes seeking something in me, those perfect lips parted. I cup her face in my hands as she speaks.
“What do you want me to do?”
“I want you out of this skirt. And then I want you to lay back and let me do what I want to you.”
She lets out a long, slow exhale and shudders. “So basically, you want me to let go.”
“Yes. Completely. And that way, you’ll come harder. Trust me.”
A deep sigh, and a slow, sad smile. “That T word again.”
“You can do it, Callaway. Take your skirt off. Lay back. And let go.”
It’s always such a rush, seeing a woman obey me. I’m not what you’d call fifty shades-dominant, but being in control in the bedroom has always been my modus operandi. She stands up, unzips her skirt and—of course—folds it before she lays it on the edge of the bed, making me smile. She’s wearing pink, bikini-style panties that give off an innocent girl vibe, and man, do I want to have me some of this innocent girl.
I take my shirt off and toss it on the floor because guys don’t fold, and I dig what I see on her face as she scans my upper body—like she’s hungry and I’m lunch. She lays down on the bed, her shiny hair framing her face. I unbutton that Kohl’s rayon blouse and pull it open so I can look at her chest, rising up and down with every deep breath. Love the pink bra she’s wearing and the soft swell of her breasts beneath the satin, and I love that in just a few minutes, I’ll have my mouth between her legs.
Gently, I slide my hands under her ass and ease her body down the bed so she’s right near the edge—easier access being the goal. I devour her with my eyes as my cock stands at attention. He’ll have to wait, because right now, this is all about Madeline.
And now I’m going to just plain devour her.
I claim her mouth again, swirling my tongue against hers for a few seconds before I take one of the best routes known to man: down.
I start off by kissing the valley between her tits, giving her cleavage a quick lick as I lift one of her bra cups to snake my tongue inside, running it over her nipple. I’d like to spend a little time on these gorgeous globes, but after fantasizing all day about going down on her...yeah, I’m just a little impatient. So I continue on my way, kissing and flicking my tongue in a vertical line down to the waistband of her panties, to give her a little taste of things to come.
Namely, her.
I stroke her inner thighs with my index fingers, tracing just outside the outline of her panty fabric and breaking into a grin as she starts to wriggle around on the bed. “Ticklish, Callaway?”
A reluctant answer. “Y-e-ss. That, and like I told you, my body’s basically been a wasteland.”
“I think you meant wonderland.”
She gives me this shy but very grateful smile. “Thank you. But don’t take advantage of me being ticklish, or needy, because it’ll probably kill me.”
“I’ll go easy on you with the ticklish because tickling’s a form of torture, but giving you a break on the needy is a no-go. I plan to take full advantage. Full. One thing you’ve got to understand is that I’m in charge in the bedroom. Lift up your hips. Because right now...” I hook my thumbs in the leg openings of her panties and begin to slide them down. “I’m going to give you a good tongue lashing.”
She sucks in her breath, and when she speaks, it’s like a whimper. “Oh, Jack.”
Her panties are off, and I have to take time to just look at her. Soft, full, petal-pink lips. Her pussy is completely bare. Oh, man. Completely fucking bare. And now the python in my pants has turned to stone.
Fuck, this is going to require some major, major restraint.
“Please don’t be mad if I—you know, climax right away,” she’s whispering. “I usually can’t hold back for long with oral.”
As weird as it sounds, I don’t like thinking of another man having done this to her. I console myself with thinking that the ones before me were most likely amateurs, not knowing when to ease up to prolong the pleasure. She hasn’t experienced Big Deck’s oral skills.
“Then it’s going to be my goal to pace you.” I get down on my knees on the floor—me and my throbbing dick—and put my hands on her knees, guiding her to open her legs and feeling like I’m going to fucking explode watching her pussy lips spread apart. I’m not only going to need to pace her, but myself as well. Jesus—seeing those delicate folds open like this would bring me to my knees if I wasn’t there already. Vulnerable, exposed, waiting—for me.
“Close your eyes, Madeline.” I lean in, expelling a cool breath of air so she knows how close my mouth is to her. My grip on her inner legs is firm; she’s not ready for any bondage at this point, but I want her to have the feeling that she can’t move. Except for squirming a little—that, she can do.
I begin by lightly brushing the inside of her thighs with my lips. Her skin is quivering, and I know she’s ticklish, so I won’t prolong this, but it’s been my experience that women love being teased.
I move my mouth to
her outer lips, kissing around the center of her pussy in a shrinking spiral. She’s breathing hard and her hands go to my head. I grin, because apparently I’m not the only one with a thing for hair. But I want her to focus only on what I’m doing to her, so I take her hands and hold them down by her sides. She’ll get even more turned on feeling like she’s being restrained.
The warm scent of her is driving me fucking crazy. Time to taste this beautiful girl. Using just the tip of my tongue, I trace a feather-soft line up and down each of her inner lips as she begins to enter begging mode, whispering my name: Jack...JACK. She’s starting to wiggle a bit, so I tighten my grip on her legs.
When her signals are telling me she’s on the fast track to the big O, I take my mouth off her and stroke her lightly with my finger, switching up the sensation but keeping the feeling intense. After I’m pretty confident she can handle oral again, I kiss her hard little clit and have to fight back a groan when she arches her back and cries out. Then it’s back to finger-stroking, a slightly longer kiss where she most wants my lips, a long exhale as my face hovers over her pussy, and a light swirl of my tongue. Delay + slow teasing + quick intense contact = phenomenal climax. Call it Big Deck’s Math 101.
I work two fingers inside her, feeling my balls tighten as I imagine the walls of her pussy around my cock. My fingers give her something else to think about, too, and delays what I know is going to be an epic orgasm. I give her swollen nub a quick flick of my tongue. She gasps and moans—I’ve startled her—and I know she’s at the edge. She’s dripping, and man, do I want to bury my face in her sweet wetness and eat the fuck out of her, but the first time I go down on a woman, I’m focused on getting to know her, establishing trust—letting her know she’s safe to let go with me. After we’ve been together a few times, though, I pick up the intensity.
Really, really looking forward to that with her.
“I’m very impressed with you for holding off, Callaway, and letting me pace you. I’m guessing you’re ready to come, though. Right?”