End of Day (Jack & Jill Series Book 1)

by Jewel E. Ann

  He cleared his throat. “You’re not nervous?”

  “About sex on a plane?”

  His brow tightened as he shook his head. “No, about flying. About not being in control of the plane.”

  “Nah, I’ll be fine. I’ll be in control of something or someone.” She wet her lips.

  The uncomfortable strain of his cock pushed against his jeans, growing worse by the second.

  “Flying gets you there quicker.”

  Jillian stared ahead at the attendants making final preparations. “Maybe I like the journey better than the destination. Have you really never been in the Mile High Club?”

  The older lady in front of AJ looked back. She wore a hearing aid that apparently worked just fine. He gave her a small apologetic smile. After she turned back around, leaving him with a nasty look, he leaned over and whispered in Jillian’s ear.

  “If you censor your words and the rest of your body for the duration of the flight, I’ll find a place to fuck you nine ways to Sunday just as soon as we get off the plane.”

  She grinned, as only Jillian Knight would do. He made a warning and a promise, but from her smile he felt certain all she heard was the promise.

  “I like the alliteration of seven ways to Sunday, grammatically speaking. However, in reference to your promise, nine is a much better number.”

  Ten minutes later they were in the air. Jillian showed no anxiety during takeoff and seemed content staring out the window. AJ leaned his chair back and closed his eyes, praying for an uneventful flight with the most unpredictable woman he had ever met.

  Lulled to sleep by the mild turbulence, AJ woke when the flight attendant stopped in the aisle for their drink order. She handed Jillian what looked like a mixed drink as Jillian handed her cash.

  “Anything for you, sir?”

  “Water.” He glanced at Jillian. “Thought you were going to behave.”

  She took a sip then grinned. “Oh, I am—Nine ways to Sunday.”

  “Pretzels?”

  AJ shook his head at the attendant.

  “I’ll take his.” Jillian smiled.

  “Are you enjoying your first time?” AJ asked.

  She popped a pretzel in her mouth. “First time?”

  “Flying.”

  “Oh … uh, yeah, sure. Can you pilot a plane?”

  “Not this one, but yes. I used to fly fighter planes.”

  “Missiles? Bombs?”

  “Yes.”

  “And now?”

  AJ tapped the empty plastic cup on his leg. “Now I advise with the Logistics and Readiness Squadron.”

  “Career military. Was it your dream?”

  “I didn’t sit around dreaming about my future. I just did it.”

  Jillian gulped the rest of her drink. “Yeah, my question was a bit more metaphorical, but whatever.”

  “Did you dream of selling … what you sell?”

  “Yes. My mom had at least a hundred erotica books in the study and my dad hid his subscription to Playboy in the bottom drawer of his tool chest. Our neighbor was a minister who was arrested for soliciting a prostitute, and my high school guidance counselor’s ass landed in jail for selling photos online of the high school volleyball team taking showers in the locker room. No one ever figured out how he got them.”

  “There’s a point to this?”

  Jillian grinned. “Absolutely. My point is, I learned early on that sex sells. Like most people it took some time for me to follow my instincts, but here I am … living the dream.”

  “You’re not living the dream, but thanks for yet another entertaining story that I’m certain is one hundred percent fiction.”

  “What if it’s not?” Jillian handed him her cocktail napkin that she’d been doodling on with a pen.

  “What is this?” He knew what it looked like. Nothing about her should have been shocking any longer and yet, it was.

  “Nine ways to Sunday.”

  He found the one person whose mind was more fucked-up than his, and she was hours away from meeting his parents. The only thing more messed-up than the drawing of two figures—one with its head between the legs of the other that was tied to a bed in four-point restraints—was how it stirred his cock to life.

  AJ shoved it in his pocket. “God, you’re twisted.”

  Jillian interlaced her fingers with his. “And yet, here we are … together. Why is that?”

  He released a heavy sigh. “I ask myself that question every damn day.”

  *

  Hot stagnant air filled the room. It wasn’t a five-star hotel, but for two hundred dollars AJ expected the air conditioner to work. Sweat beaded on his brow and trickled down his back that bowed from his arms being restrained behind the desk chair. The rope around each ankle chafed his skin every time he moved.

  “You’re a sadist.”

  Jillian rolled her eyes as she stood in her bra and panties, flipping through the TV channels. “Why does everyone say that?”

  “I can only speculate why everyone says that, but I say it because you have me tied naked to the desk chair in a hotel room.”

  “Fair point.” Her lips dipped into a frown at the screen. “There’s nothing good on here.” She left it on the hotel’s information channel and turned up the volume.

  “Does elevator music get you off?”

  Jillian removed her bra and panties. “Asks the naked guy saluting me with a very impressive erection.” She knelt down in front of him. “Hope you’re not too uncomfortable. If you would have sprung for the suite with the four-poster bed, we’d both be more comfortable.”

  “I wasn’t going to pay fifteen hundred dollars for a fucking blow job.”

  Jillian ran her hands up his legs then dragged them back down, letting her nails dig into his skin just shy of breaking it. AJ hissed.

  “Then I’d say you haven’t really had a blow job.”

  Jillian took him in her mouth and drew blood on his legs at the same time.

  “Fuck!” he groaned, feeling the intense collision of pain and pleasure.

  The chair creaked with protest as he bucked against the restraints. The rope sawed his wrists and ankles when he jerked his pelvis toward her, searching for a gag reflex she didn’t seem to have. Her tongue licked and swirled as she kept her gaze locked on his. In that instant, she reached the pinnacle of sexy, unlike anything he had ever seen. His vision blurred a bit with each heavy blink as he felt himself getting closer.

  She grinned with him still in her mouth then released him.

  “For the love of God …” he begged “… don’t stop.”

  “Tell me you should have splurged for the suite.”

  “What?” He panted the word, feeling almost delusional. “Untie me.”

  Control—absolute physical control ran through his veins. It defined him, his career, his life. He’d never given such control to anyone before. Some perverse voice in his head convinced him to give it to Jillian. She was his kryptonite.

  “Tell me you should have splurged for the suite.”

  “No.” Every muscle fought the restraints. Every thought devised an escape.

  Jillian glanced at the clock on the nightstand. “What time are your parents expecting us?”

  AJ called his parents from the airport and told them not to pick them up because they had a few stops to make. The clock ticked with no mercy. He knew how it felt.

  She slipped on his T-shirt and snatched the room key. “Have it your way. I’ll be right back.”

  “Jillian!” he yelled over the nauseating elevator music.

  She returned a few minutes later with a bucket of ice. “Now, let’s try this again.”

  AJ was supposed to fuck her nine ways to Sunday. Jillian had other plans. Two hours later his dick felt in need of a cast and crutches, maybe even a wheelchair. Someone must have hypnotized and used word association with her. Nine ways to Sunday had to be a trigger for her horns to emerge, because she put him through hell. A woman sucking his dick with
ice in her mouth gave new meaning to the word aroused. She brought him to the brink so many times until he conceded that he should have paid for the suite. Less than ten seconds later he came in her mouth, and even if the timing and purpose was inappropriate, he thanked God over and over again.

  When she untied him, he charged at her like a bull out of its cage. What ensued after that was sexual grappling, both of them vying for the upper hand. It was—in its own right—combat, and that’s why two-hours-and-nine-ways-to-Sunday later when they left the hotel room in shambles, AJ wondered if his dick had made its final performance ever.

  Jillian signaled to the cab driver outside of the hotel. She looked perky … fucking perky … and full of energy. AJ looked and felt like a wounded soldier being dragged back to the barracks.

  They slipped into the backseat of the cab. AJ managed to mumble his parents’ address to the driver while Jillian nuzzled her nose in his neck.

  “That was incredible. If I promise to be on my best behavior for the rest of the trip can we have an encore performance when we get home?”

  There would be no encore performance—ever. At forty-two, AJ had the build and stamina of a thirty-year-old in top condition. Sadly, it was no match for Wonder Woman on steroids. He rubbed the rope burn marks on his wrists, which were nothing more than minor blemishes compared to the bite marks and claw scratches on other parts of his body. He looked like hell and the task of explaining any of it to his parents was daunting at best.

  “Have you actually ever killed anyone?” he asked her.

  The cabbie glanced at them in his rearview mirror.

  She sat up straight. “Why would you ask me that?”

  No, was the answer he was looking for.

  “Look at me.”

  She stared out her window for a second too long. Then turned with a soft smile on her face. “Hmm?”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “You didn’t answer mine either.” Her eyes shone bright with amusement as though the conversation was absurd.

  Was it?

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Jillian Knight had never killed anyone. Period. That was the accurate answer to his question and to deliver that answer, every thought, every move, every breath had to embrace Jillian Knight. There was no room to flinch, pause, or even swallow. Jillian Knight had never killed anyone.

  AJ shook his head. “I shouldn’t have asked that. I’m just stressed about seeing my parents.” He reached between the seats and held her hand.

  She stared at the red marks on his wrist. What kind of barbaric person does what she did to him? How fucked-up does a man have to be to allow a woman to do what she did? Why did taking control feel like losing control?

  “Are you stressed out because of me?”

  “No. Yes … it’s complicated.”

  She knew complicated. Jillian defined complicated.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “For what?”

  “That you’re taking me home to meet your parents instead of someone more … normal.”

  AJ leaned over and kissed her cheek, and then her ear. “Normal’s boring,” he whispered back.

  The pain in Jillian’s chest from his words was almost indescribable. It triggered such vivid memories of Luke. She turned toward the window and the only thing she could see through the blurry passing of the city was Luke. Would he ever stop controlling her mind?

  *

  Day

  It was a shed, not a surprise.

  “Thank you?” Jessica’s lips formed a tight smile as they stood in front of the old shed behind the house.

  Lara loaned her a pair of work boots to go with Jessica’s old jeans and faded red T-shirt.

  “You ready to show the old man up?”

  Jessica turned at the sound of Tom’s voice. He handed her leather work gloves.

  “Uh …” she looked at Luke.

  He grinned. “You’re going to tear off the siding then reside the shed with my dad. Then I think he has an ax for you to chop down a few old dead trees.”

  “Felicity has a few easy projects inside too,” Tom added.

  “I-I’m good with this.” She nodded. “But … just to be clear. This is a gift and not a punishment for taking my clothes off in front of you, right?”

  Tom cleared his throat. Luke’s eyes darted to his, wide with surprise.

  Jessica turned to Tom. “I took a dip in the lake. Luke did not.”

  Tom smirked. “I’ll grab an extra crow bar.” He gestured to the shed.

  “You know he’s old enough to be your father, yet because he’s a guy and he can’t help it, he’s going to be picturing you frolicking in the lake naked. Thanks for that.”

  Jessica trapped her upper lip between her teeth. “Do you think any of the other Jones men will be picturing me naked today?”

  His gaze rested on her, but he was somewhere else. It was a familiar look that elicited a slap of regret. Jessica wanted his affection, not his regret.

  “It’s a gift. I thought ripping something apart and whacking down a few dead trees would be a healthy release of all that energy you keep trapped inside.”

  She nodded; a soft, pensive expression masked her enthusiasm. Luke was trying to help her, but she hated herself for needing it in the first place.

  He slid his palm against her cheek and threaded his fingers in her hair. She closed her eyes as his mouth brushed her ear. “It’s not a punishment.”

  Her body shivered right to the bone. He smiled, It was weak, almost tortured.

  “Where are you going?” She found her voice after he’d already turned and started back toward the house.

  “I have a lunch date.”

  Panic stomped on her lungs forcing her mouth open in a silent gasp. How dare he say that? How dare he do that? She was too old to stick out her tongue and pound her feet so she flipped him the bird as he walked away. In her peripheral vision she caught Felicity looking out the back window. Jessica rotated her wrist and flattened her hand, palm up, then waved with a smile. Felicity’s shoulders bounced a bit. Jessica sighed, relieved that Luke’s mom found the humor in her immature gesture.

  “Ready to tear something apart?” Tom called from the door of the shed.

  “Absolutely.”

  They ripped the siding off the shed. Then Tom gave Jessica instructions on residing it. She took down three dead trees with an ax, envisioning Luke’s head as the trunk. By the time they finished the small projects inside the house, Jessica felt like a certified handywoman.

  “You’re a natural, young lady.” Tom handed Jessica a cool lemonade as she pulled off her gloves. They stood side by side on the deck, watching the sun sink into the lake.

  “I had fun.”

  He laughed.

  “I’m serious. I used to work on cars and motorcycles with my dad. We still do occasionally. I love tearing things apart and putting them back together.”

  Tom sighed, keeping his gaze to the lake. “You’re good for him.”

  “Luke?”

  He nodded. “Taught him everything I know. I thought he’d stay around here, buy some land, and open up his own B&B. He originally went to college to pursue a business degree. Then …”

  Jessica’s brow furrowed. “Then what? Did something happen?”

  Tom nodded with a painful squint.

  “Dinner will be ready in about an hour, if you two want to get showered up,” Felicity called from the kitchen.

  “Okay.” Tom smiled at Jessica as if he wasn’t just about to tell her something important. “That’s her way of saying we’re smelly and dirty.”

  “Yeah, we probably are.” She stepped inside as Tom held open the screen door.

  After grabbing her toiletries, she went into the bathroom and peeked her head into Luke’s room. He was on his bed reading a book, looking casual in his shorts and T-shirt—both ironed and devoid of wrinkles of course.

  “Hey.”

  He looked up, slipping his
bookmark in his book. “Hi. My mom said you were a huge help to my dad today.”

  She shrugged. “Yeah, I suppose. He taught me a lot.”

  Luke nodded. “He knows his stuff, that’s for sure.”

  They looked at each other for a silent moment. It felt like a stare-off. He was daring her, taunting her to ask about his lunch date.

  “Did you have a good day?”

  He smiled, a little too much. “Yes, I did. You’d better get in the shower. Dinner will be ready soon.” Luke opened his book up and began reading again. “You’re staring.” He kept his eyes on the page.

  “I’m thinking.” Jessica replied.

  “About all the things in this room that you could use to kill me?” Luke continued to focus on his book, not showing a bit of true concern.

  “I did that yesterday and found six possibilities. But I just spied four more. That’s ten, Jones. So maybe you should lock your door tonight.” She freed her tangled mess of dark hair from its ponytail holder as she slid the door shut. At the last second, Luke glanced up. Jessica held her scowl until the lock clicked ending the showdown.

  Livid.

  Her level of frustration continued to escalate with each word he didn’t say about his lunch date. Really, who brings a girl to meet—or not meet—his parents, and then goes out on a lunch date with someone else?

  The shower was supposed to calm her nerves, cool her off … but it didn’t, even when she turned it to completely cold. By the time she stepped out and wrapped a towel around herself, she felt contemptuous heat simmering beneath her skin. Jessica was about to blow.

  “Did you have wine?” She slid the door open until it jerked to a stop in the wall pocket.

  “Excuse me?” Luke looked up, keeping his eyes on hers, in spite of her wet, naked body wrapped in a towel.

  “Did. You. Have. Wine. At. Lunch?”

  He smirked. “Get dressed. It doesn’t matter.”

  Jessica took several steps closer. Luke tensed but continued giving his full attention to what must have been the most spellbinding book ever.

  “It matters to me.”

  “Why?”