He holds his hand out in front of me, “Give me the phone, Holly.”
“Um … how bout, hell no! I have to post this to facebook first.”
He picks up a piece of smashed up rind and tosses it up and down in his palm. “Give me the phone.”
“You wouldn’t.” I challenge, “I’m pregnant, remember?”
“Oh, I remember.” He smiles, but there’s not just good humour reflected in his eyes, there’s a whole world of sex and promises. “Give it up, Hols.”
I’m kind of glued to the spot as all of the blood rushes to my vagina in zero point two seconds flat. Jack’s smile deepens. The bastard knows exactly what I’m thinking, and he’s not above using it to his advantage. I reach forward to place the phone in his hand, but he snatches up my wrist and yanks me toward him. With one of Jack’s large hands at my back, I’m pressed tight against him, and I can feel his hard length against my belly. He gently pivots his hips, pushing further into me, letting me feel just how much he’s enjoying this, and then he brings his free hand up and smashes the watermelon into my face.
“You motherfucker!” I push him away, and swipe the squishy fruit from my eyes. It stings like a bitch.
“Yeah, I guess I am a mother-fucker.” He laughs, low and gravelly, and my lady parts tighten so much at that sound that I feel like I might choke on them. I grab a chunk of melon from the table and prepare to smash it into his face.
“Uh-oh,” Ana tries to move out of the firing line, but as she’s backing away she runs into Elijah, and he quickly pulls her into his chest and then creams her with a fistful of melon. She shrieks, and takes off running. I’m watching them run down the track toward the nature walk when Jack pulls me to him, and kisses me hard on the mouth. For a second, I get caught up in the feel of his tongue sweeping my own. I get lost in his big hands as he cups my chin with one, and tugs my hair with the other, forcing my neck back. For a moment, I get caught up, and forget the resolve I had back in the car, and then reality comes rushing back and I push him away. He stumbles into the picnic table.
“What the fuck, Hols?”
“What are you doing?” I demand.
“Well, I thought I was about to get laid right here on this picnic bench, but I’m guessing we can rule that out now.”
“We need to stop this—”
Elijah clears his throat behind us, and I jump back from Jackson like he’s a grenade I just pulled the pin from. He and Ana are staring at us with different expressions etched on their faces. Cade looks like he’s about to high-five us both, but Ana’s expression is wary. Wary, and also kinda frightening.
“Given that we all just narrowly escaped being eaten alive by a killer wombat, I’m thinking we should maybe move to the other side of the camping ground and get the tents set up before it gets too dark,” Elijah says.
“Yeah, let’s do that,” Jack replies, but he pins me with his gaze as he says it, which makes me think he’s responding to my statement and not Elijah’s.
The boys gather the tents, poles and pegs, and move them to the clearing just beyond the Ute. Thankfully, the campsite is completely deserted, so encroaching on another’s camp isn’t an issue. While they set up the tents, Ana and I sit at the picnic table and start preparing a salad for dinner.
“Hey, you’re okay with this, aren’t you?” she asks.
“Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“It’s just, we haven’t really had a chance to talk lately, with the plans for getting Belle’s Pies back up and running, and the funeral and the—”
“Smoking hot sex-tapes you’ve been making?” I supply helpfully. “Aw, I totally just made you blush. So he hasn’t turned you into a complete porn star yet?”
“Shut up,” she says, and throws a carrot stick at my head. It lands in my lap, and I pick it up and start munching. “What’s going on with you and Jack? And before you try to tell me nothing, that kiss was not nothing.”
I shrug, and open my mouth to tell her she has the wrong idea, but Ana just barges on through with, “You know, I got up to go to the bathroom the other night, and I heard noises that a girl should never have to hear her hot older cousin make. So, unless he’s started bringing women to the house, I’m pretty sure they were your chants of, ‘Fuck me harder, Jackarse’ that I heard coming from the bedroom.”
I smile to myself, and then see the warning in her gaze. It makes my smile vanish as quickly as it came. When I open my mouth, I find myself repeating the same bullshit excuse for our idiotic behaviour that Jack fed me the other night. “It’s not complicated, Ana. I like sex; he likes sex. Sex together makes sense for us right now. There’s no strings attached, no messy break-ups involved, and everyone walks away happy.” I shrug, “Or, at the very least, a little bow-legged with a happy ending.”
“I’m not going to try and talk you out of this. God knows I didn’t listen when everyone warned me to stay away from Elijah, but I just don’t want to see you get hurt. I know how you feel about one another—”
“Ana, baby, chill. It’s just fucking.” I shrug off her concerns as though I haven’t already been going over and over this in my head for the last two weeks. Truth is, whether we’re pretending there isn’t more to this than there is, or we really are just going through the motions and coming out with a blissful glow, deep down I know I’m completely screwed when it comes to Jackson. And not just by his massive cock.
“NICE SAUSAGE,” Hols says as she sidles up beside me at the barbecue.
“Oh, you like that, huh?” I reply, with only half my usual enthusiasm. Yes, I might still be pissy about the shit she pulled before. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t expect Hols to put out every time I want it. I’m human, too. I get it. Sometimes, you just need a little bit of time to recover from a Jackson-Rowe fucking. But that’s not what was going through that pretty little head of hers, I just know it. She was thinking—and trust me, Holly Harris, when she’s thinking, is a very dangerous girl to be around.
Holly’s brain works in two ways: there’s the sex-fiend side that makes her say and do stupid shit that usually offends people, and then there’s the thinking side, which usually causes some kind of offence to someone, because that part also allows her to do and say stupid shit. Most of the time, it’s shit that should see her sexy arse winding up in jail.
“You need help with that?”
“Nope.”
“Sure? I’m really good with my hands.” She teases.
“No shit, Sherlock. But you and this barbecue plate are not going anywhere near my sausage. I got it, thanks.”
“You okay? You seem cranky.” She gives me that patronising, frowny face that she knows just pisses me off. “Are you cranky, Jack?”
“Nope. I’m good.”
“Alrighty then,” she mutters, and takes a sip from her cup of soft drink, then turns to walk away. I grab her by the hand before she can leave.
“Hols, I’m just tired.”
“Yeah.” She glares, and pulls her wrist free. “Me too.”
Fuck me. Now I’m gonna be sharing a tent with a pissed-off pregnant woman. A pissed-off pregnant woman I wanna fuck so badly my balls are turning blue just thinking about it. Fucking awesome.
We eat dinner in silence at the picnic table, taking in the shrill cries of the crickets and cicadas as they settle in for the night. A colony of fruit bats shriek in the trees beyond our clearing. I swat at the mozzies attempting to suck me dry. I love being this close to nature.
I’ve always been outdoorsy, but getting back to basics out here, with nothing but trees and bush around, just invigorates the soul. Course, I hate my hands being idle, so too long out here would end up driving me nuts, and I’d wind up whittling down trees to make furniture or some shit. Now, if Holly could get out of her head for five fucking seconds, I could put my hands to good use on her body. It has to be her decision, though. I won’t talk her into it this time, and Jackson Rowe does not beg for anyone.
After we eat, I collect a
bunch of sticks so we can toast marshmallows on the fire. Elijah and I drink too much beer, while the girls chat, and braid each other’s hair or some shit.
Cade leans in, and whispers, “Dude, what’s the deal with you and the crazy, ranga midget?”
If it were anyone else that had called Holly that I’d likely punch him in the head, but as much as Elijah likes to tease, I know he’s one of only three people in the world that actually gets her, so I let it slide.
“Beats the fuck outta me. One minute she’s climbing me like a tree, the next she’s icing down my Johnson with Lysol and a cold shoulder.”
“You know what your problem is, don’t you?”
“Dude, I ain’t never had a problem pleasing women.”
“No, you’ve never had a problem fucking women, but how many of them have fucked you over afterwards?”
“None,” I reply defiant.
“Exactly.” He points his stubbie in Holly’s direction. “Except that feisty little redhead shit over there.”
Fuck it. He’s right. Holly Harris is the only woman who’s ever gotten under my skin.
I chug the rest of my beer, and change the subject. “I know I don’t have to ask how you’re getting along, since you seem to be fucking all over our house.”
“We’re good.” He smiles, and his dimples come popping out. Jesus Christ, he’s a pretty bastard. Thank fuck my baby cousin took him off the market or I’d never get my arse laid in Sugartown again. “But then, I never had a problem telling her how I felt. Maybe Holly just needs to feel something more from you than your cock?”
“Christ, mate, when did you turn into such a fucking pussy?”
“The minute I met your cousin.” He winks, and stands. “Now, I’m going to bed, because I got something else I need Ana to feel.”
“Why you gotta be such a fucking cunt?” I laugh, and slam my fist into his side as he passes.
“Because everyone loves cunt. Sweet dreams, Jackie-boy. Hope your sleeping bag isn’t too wet in the morning.”
“Get fucked, dickhead.”
“Oh, I intend to.”
“Yeah, laugh it up, fuck-stick. You’re just lucky she’s my cousin, or the minute your daughter became legal I’d tap that shit just so you knew how it felt.”
“You’re one sick bastard. You know that, right?”
I laugh and twist around in my chair, meeting Holly’s gaze across the camp. She and Ana have just come back from the shitter, and she’s dressed in these cute, little short-shorts and a white singlet, and I swear, even from here I can see the outline of her sexy-as-fuck nipples as she brushes her teeth outside our tent.
As Cade and Ana disappear into their tent, I get up and walk over to Holly, taking her toothbrush from her hand. I squeeze a small amount of toothpaste onto the brush, and shove it in my mouth before she can protest. “The fuck? That’s my toothbrush, Jackarse.”
“Darlin’, my mouth’s been worse places than on your toothbrush.”
“Yeah, so not a comforting thought.”
I stop brushing, and stare at her. “That what you want? Comfort?”
“Did you and Cade share a crack pipe while Ana and I were gone? What’s wrong with you?” She shoots me a suspicious look. I spit out the toothpaste, and rinse my mouth with the water bottle she hands me.
“Nothing.”
“Well, good night, Mr McCrazy Pants, I’m going to bed.”
“Night,” I whisper, and walk back to the fire to put it out before turning in for the night.
Once I climb inside our tent I see Holly splayed across the entire air mattress. Little shit always was a bed hog. I sigh, zip up the tent, and wedge myself onto the corner of the mattress. I lie there, squashed into a space that wouldn’t even be big enough for Sammy to fit comfortably into before I kneel up, slide my hands beneath her body, and gently lay her back down on her side of the bed. Holly stirs, and makes a little mewling sound—the same one she makes when I pull my cock out of her—then she tugs my arm down so I have no choice but to lay behind her and spoon myself around her body.
Her crazy hair is splayed all over the pillow, and smells of watermelon and her shampoo. I shift it aside so I’m not smothered by it in my sleep, and then as I lay there thinking about this thing between us, I do something I haven’t done since I found out she was pregnant. I slide my hand down her front, and cup the small bump of her belly with my hand.
Holly lets out a contented sigh in her sleep. I freeze, because for half a second I think she’s going to wake and tell me to get the fuck off, but she doesn’t. She just snuggles deeper into me, so I leave my hand there, and eventually drift off to sleep.
I DON’T know what’s worse. Waking in the middle of a sex dream when you’re just about to come, or waking to a massive penis pressing against your arse, and not being able just to jump on, and ride the hell out of that thing like you were riding towards your morning coffee.
Coffee. Another thing I’m not allowed to have during this stupid pregnancy. Okay, technically that’s not true. I could have decaf, but have you tasted that shit? Yeah, not really what I call coffee. I just hope this kid appreciates all the things I’m giving up in order to not have him come out with brain damage. Although with the way Jackson fucks, that’s never really a guarantee.
And speaking of … I rock my hips back into his, and feel his hand tighten around my waist. No. Not my waist. My belly. My … bump. When he draws his hand away, it’s sweating, and my skin prickles with the combination of the moisture and cool air.
“Mornin’,” Jackson whispers in my ear. He runs his hand over my hip, and down between my legs. “I have morning wood.”
“Yeah. I kinda felt that.”
“Hols?”
“Mmm?”
“I gotta have you.”
I roll over and face him. Partly because I love seeing his sleepy head in the morning, with his lazy, indulgent smiles, and his hair all mussed from the pillow. Mostly, I want to see if he’s being genuine. Or if this is another of the weird, cryptic exchanges, like the ones we shared last night.
His clear blue eyes search mine. His expression is oddly vulnerable. I don’t have a clue what to make of it, but I know this is a bad idea—despite what my lady parts are saying.
“Jack—” I begin, but he cuts me off by taking my mouth with his, slow and sweet, forcing my legs to fall open for him.
“Sweetheart, stop thinking and just feel,” he says as he slides his fingers inside my knickers. I’m soaking wet on account of the dream, and Jack sucks in a sharp breath when he delves between my lips, discovering just how turned on I am. He revels in my arousal, softly stroking me from clit to opening and back again. Then he gently pinches my clit, and a current runs right through me from head to toe.
Oh, God. Why couldn’t he be terrible with his hands? Why couldn’t he fumble, and never be able to find it? At least then I wouldn’t be such a complete mess the minute he touches me?
“Jack,” I protest again, but it’s really more of moan than a plea for him to stop.
“Hols,” he says as the runs his mouth along my jaw and down my neck. “Shut the hell up, and let me fuck you.”
I nod, because it’s all I’m really capable of at this point, but it’s all the permission he needs. He kneels up in front of me and tears off my shorts and underwear. Jackson’s not wearing anything at all—kind of convenient, really—and he rubs the tip of that beautiful cock over my entrance, coating the head in my desire. He pumps his fist up and down over his glorious cock, and then slips inside, balls deep. I moan, and rock my hips forward to meet his, wanting it harder, faster, wanting to feel him hammering into the very end of me. Jack grabs my hips in his big, calloused hands and holds them down. “Easy, baby, today we’re taking it slow.”
“Slow? Since when do you do slow?”
He stops thrusting completely, and stares down at me. “Since today.”
“Ooookay. Are you feeling alright?”
“I’m feeling som
ething,” he says as he pulls the entire way out, and then slides back in again. He wraps his hands around my ankle and takes my leg up so that it’s resting on his chest, and then he kisses his way down my calf before saying, “I don’t know if it’s right, but I’m feeling it.”
Am I still dreaming? What happened to the Jackson who fucks fast and hard, and doesn’t pull any punches? This Jackson is sweet, and not at all douchie, and it’s damn confusing. His hands follow the trail down my leg left by his wet kisses, and he circles his finger around my clit. I no longer care that he’s acting so weird. All I care about are his hands, and his cock, and the fact that though we’ve never been here before, I gotta say, it’s every bit as good as sex with Jackson always is. Maybe even better.
He presses my heels into his chest and leans forward, forcing himself further inside, until we’re fused together, and as close as we could possibly be. His gaze solders to mine. At first it’s raw, pure lust, but the longer I stare, the more I think I see something there, reflected in his eyes. Jack continues his gentle thrusts. He slides his calloused fingertips over my pussy, focusing on the tiny bundle of nerve endings, until I come apart in his hands. My orgasm crashes into me, and I’m completely surprised by the wave of emotion that slams home directly after. I’m panting and crying all at once. Fear and need are waging war with one another in my heart.
Jack doesn’t notice because he’s lost in his own release. I feel him spill into me, and then he slumps back on his knees, eliciting a shockwave of pleasure as he slides out. His eyes open, then they widen in surprise at the tears pouring out of mine. I cover my face with my palms and try to turn away, but he catches me up in his arms. I fight. Of course I fight—this is me we’re talking about—but it doesn’t do any good, because Jackson’s a heck of a lot stronger than I am, and within seconds he has my arms pinned to my sides. “Hols, did I hurt you?”
“Just leave me alone, Jack.”
“Not gonna happen. Talk to me. What the hell is the matter with you?”
Enjoy Your Stay Page 6