The Sweetest Jerk #3 (Alpha Billionaire Romance)

by Ava Claire

  I cringed when my mind immediately went to the adult channels, like anyone would with all the unintended innuendo and awkwardness flowing from my mother.

  "Not the pornography, I meant, uh...” My mother, who usually exuded confidence and sensuality when a man was in her general vicinity, was a hot mess. She reversed, walking away from her broken sentence and scooping up her purse. Finally regaining some of her signature charm, she strutted to where Jason stood like she was on a runway at New York Fashion Week. "I look forward to getting to know you better, Jason."

  He disappointed her by shaking the hand she extended instead of kissing it, but one of his dimpled smiles made up for it in spades. "It was nice to meet you too, Mrs. Madison."

  She held onto his hand for several seconds longer than necessary, until I cleared my throat and she disengaged. "Good manners, good looks, and filthy rich? If I was a younger woman..." She made a low, animalistic growl.

  I coughed and blurted out ‘Dad’, then coughed again, drawing a chuckle from both of them.

  My mother finally headed toward the door, blowing me a kiss. "Text me later, your dad and I will take you out to dinner." She paused halfway out, planting a seed. "Or maybe we could double date!"

  I exhaled loudly when the door clicked shut and rushed over to lock it, just in case.

  Pawing at my hair and blushing like I'd just forced him into some awkward meet the parents scenario, I slowly pivoted back to the living room. I was in no hurry to see his bemused expression, so I started gathering things and putting them in a basket, trying to tidy up. "Sorry about that. And this mess.”

  "No worries," he answered. I was too busy trying to pretend I wasn't a slob to see if he really meant that, but I heard the crunch of him navigating through the junk. "Your mom seems lovely."

  I plopped the basket on the counter and swept my eyes to where he was standing. Closer than I realized. Close enough that it wouldn't take much to grip the front of his white t-shirt and snatch him close. Close enough to taste that smile on his lips. To kiss away the rest of the world.

  I wish I'd downed that glass of water after all.

  I should have been asking about Cassidy, about what happened next, and what he really thought of my mother. Instead, the only question that seemed to scream, pulsing through my head was, "Where do you want me?"

  I pretended I wasn't dying to tear off his jeans with my teeth, moving some bottles and cans to the recycling. "She's gone, you don't have to be on your best behavior anymore."

  The smirk on his face darkened with something that made lust echo over my body. Remembering when the playful jokester went to the back burner and I saw another side of him. A dominant side I never knew I was searching for until he uttered an order and my pussy screamed 'Yes'.

  My whole world went still when he came to me without a word, spinning me around. He took my hands and pressed them against the counter, gently, but with purpose. The smell of him, all man, all power, all mine, filled my nostrils. I felt the part of him that spoke to that secret part of me.

  We put everything on else on hold except this moment.

  His breath was warm, caressing my ear. “It's a good thing I don't have to be on my best behavior.” He inhaled, then exhaled lust and desire. “The things I want to do to you..."

  He trailed off, leaving me to fill in the blanks with all the delicious options.

  Right here on the counter.

  Up against the wall.

  On the floor.

  My breath came in jagged pants. My heart rate was elevated. My skin was a sea of goosebumps.

  Despite the fact that I was struggling to maintain my composure, I cocked my head to the side and threw down the gauntlet. "Show me.”

  ~

  “Do you remember what happened on Delilah?”

  Before we were pulled out of the moment and thrusted back to our present predicament with Cassidy and the paparazzi that were camped outside and had probably already snapped a picture of Jason slipping in to see the other woman, he pressed a kiss against the nape of my neck that sent shivers down my spine. Like he had that night before my world was turned upside down.

  I licked my trembling lips and nodded my head. How strict was he as far as playing? What if he wanted a verbal-

  He answered my question by releasing his hold on one of my hands and bringing it to my chin and slowly, teasing me, brought every pore he touched to life. He stroked my neck with his fingertips. Lingering.

  “Use that beautiful mouth of yours, Nat.”

  All the things he didn’t say, like, ‘Because I have plans for those lips’ made a sigh slip from between them. My eyelids fluttered and I couldn’t catch my breath. I was already drunk off him. Lost in him.

  “Y-yes.” I managed to get the words out in bits and pieces. “I re-remember.”

  I did remember. Every moment. How impatient I’d been, wanting to kiss him, wanting to tear his clothes off. Like now. But I didn’t want to take the reins because I wanted to be in charge. I was in charge of every other facet of my life: my career, making sure rent was paid on time, making sure the house wasn’t a complete disaster area (under normal circumstances)...so to be honest, I could care less if my roomie did have a fit at the current state of things. I was a go-getter; I practically proposed to my ex because I got tired of talking about hypothetical situations and daydreaming about all the things we’d do once we got married. I was the hunter when I sought out men. Distractions. Distracting me from the fact that underneath it all, I wanted someone to take charge. To use me. To tell me how it was gonna be.

  Because when Jason told me to go to the bed, strip, and lie down, I practically came before the last word fell from his hot mouth.

  “You told me to-”

  “Stop right there.”

  The fingers that teased my skin tightened around my neck. Pulsing. Taking my breath away. Getting my attention and making my body coo for more. His voice was barely audible, but it was magnified inside me. Between my thighs.

  “You’re forgetting an important part.”

  I frowned, almost forgetting the feel of his erection pressed against me. “What do you-” Heat shot to my cheeks like a rocket and I knew what he was talking about.

  The past had repeated itself.

  I smiled. “I told you to show me,” I answered softly.

  My voice was unrecognizable to me. Low. Pleading. Husky.

  I almost repeated what I said and tacked on a ‘please’, but I had an idea where we were headed. He’d let go of the other hand that he’d pressed against the counter, like he knew I’d stay there. Both hands down. Our erotic version of Simon Says, though I wanted to test him.

  I wanted to be punished.

  His fingertips were simultaneously torture devices and my salvation. He barely grazed my skin, making me want more of him. All of him. But the teasing, the waiting, was part of the dance. Building toward what I knew would be the release that would carry us both to bliss.

  “And did I show you, Natalee?” He repeated the hot trail on my flesh, rerouting from my arms to my waist. Rounding it. Holding me steady. I barely realized that somewhere along the way, I’d succumbed to that carnal animal inside me and was grinding against him. “Clearly, the answer to that is no.” Playfulness outlined his words but it was fleeting. The air crackled with electric lust and the sound of his hand colliding with my bottom.

  The sting made me gasp. It wasn’t a timid strike that was barely felt because of my leggings. It shook me, woke up the sleeping beast inside me that roared.

  I almost buckled, but I stayed strong.

  Finally.

  Finally, I’d met my match.

  “You did show me,” I answered hoarsely.

  “Is that right?” he mused, smoothing his hand over my bottom. “Because it sounds to me like you’re still barking orders.” His palm was warm. Humming. Cautious.

  I almost told him not to hold back. That I could take it. I decided that was missing the point. I needed to sh
ow him.

  I’d cleared off enough of the counter that all I had to do was lean forward, lifting on my toes.

  Bent over. Ass up. Ready for him.

  His tone darkened to the point that I curled my fingertips against the counter.

  “So you have learned.” He snatched my pants down without warning and when his palm collided with my bare flesh, I felt all my problems, all my worries, everything, float right out of me. All that existed, all that mattered, was the pin pricks of pain that rippled from the point of impact. But the pain wasn’t alone. It danced with pleasure, a consuming and intoxicating thing that took hold of me and wouldn’t let go.

  “Do you want more?”

  His question made me twist my head to the side, letting some playfulness into my voice. This was the real gauntlet I’d meant to throw down. A real challenge I was hoping he’d accept.

  My eyes shot to the arousal that danced in his ocean tides. The hair I wanted to tousle for myself. “If you can handle it.”

  His eyes widened with surprise, then caught fire as he hauled back and dealt another blow to my bottom that was perfectly aligned with the first. The third spread the pain to my other cheek. And the fourth made me hiss and grit my teeth. By the time we arrived at number ten, I was practically writhing and humping the counter.

  I was a woman possessed. Taking a hearty bite of the forbidden and all I knew was that I’d never be the same.

  I wanted more.

  “J-j-j-” I was like my car in high school, a weary sedan that I had to pray would start every time I slid into the driver seat. I’d crank the key and hope it would turn over. “Jason!”

  I squealed as he swept me up like I didn’t weigh a thing. Neither one of us spoke but our fingers filled up the silence. Tugging and tearing off my leggings. Whispering as he pulled my t-shirt up and over. Smirking as he expertly undid my bra. Whistling as I showed him a trick or two of my own, pulling off his belt and deftly unbuttoning his pants without my eyes leaving his. He tore off his white tee and I wanted to taste every hardened muscle of him. To take that magnificent bulge of his in my mouth. To make him hiss and moan and beg.

  But he had a game plan and I knew wherever we were headed, it would be right where we were supposed to be.

  He dropped to his knees, eyes level with my exposed, wet pussy.

  “Look at what you do to me.” My words came out like a song, like a sultry jazz singer that was crooning for her lover to come and set her free.

  His eyes should have gone right for the prize, my wetness spread and on display. But his eyes reached higher, locked on my face like I was the prize. But it was more than that. He was watching me, watching him. Like he wanted me to remember who was running this show.

  If there was any doubt, my whole body paused, holding its breath, waiting as his eyes bore into mine.

  I sucked in a breath as his fingers stroked my right inner thigh. He moved so close to my core, to touching my erotic folds, that I bit my bottom lip. I got no mercy, no relief, because he moved to the other one, denying me the bliss of his touch. Making me wait. Making me grow. Both of us were stubborn. The fact that I jutted out my bottom lip and was met with a delicious curve of his own was proof of that.

  Who would break first?

  It wasn’t a game I wanted to play—not when I knew all too well how good his mouth felt.

  I surrendered.

  “Please, Jason.” I didn’t get specific, but I did spread my folds open, making a neon sign. A metaphorical yellow brick road from his mouth to the magical place between my thighs.

  He arched an eyebrow quizzically, still making me work for it.

  “Please what?” he teased. “I want to give you what you want.”

  “Your mouth!” I snapped, losing it. “I want your—Oh my God!”

  Apparently me mouthing off was just what he was waiting for because he dove in like the starting shot had been fired. I had a distinctive palette. I knew delicious—and he was eating me like I was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted. His tongue lapped at my juices like he didn’t want to miss a drop. He lifted me off the counter so he could go deeper and from his throaty growls, intermixing with his smacking and the sounds of my body screaming yes, over and over again, we were both craving this. Needed this.

  Though if I had a wishlist and Christmas was coming early in the form of domination and the best oral I’d had in my life, there was one more thing that I wanted to ask for.

  “Fuck me,” I begged. “Please fuck me, Jason.”

  His lips were pursed around my clit and the vibrations from his words echoed through me, but it was just un-muffled enough that I picked out something that sounded like, Hell yeah! When he came up for air, quickly finding and tearing open an aluminum square package, I knew it was on.

  I scooted off the edge of the counter, but he caught me, not done. Not waiting. He held me up, my butt fitting perfectly in his hands.

  He rubbed his cock against my folds. Still teasing. There was no playfulness when he posed himself at my pulsing entrance. Without a word, without warning, he thrusted inside me.

  We lost ourselves in the frenzy, in the lust as flesh met flesh. Our eyes locked and I wrapped my arm around his neck and took him deeper. With a moan of elation, he crushed his mouth against mine. Fucked me with his mouth, with his tongue while he explored the depths of my body with his body. He tasted like sex and power and mischief. He felt like forever.

  He slowed his thrusts, his face contorted like he was close, but his eyes told me he wasn’t done.

  “How do you want me?” I asked him thickly. In this moment, in my state of mind, which was wild with longing and need, I would have done just about anything. His request was a simple one.

  “Up against the counter.”

  He lowered me gently, but just in case I thought this was a brief intermission, he smacked my ass, making me tingle from head to toe.

  I leaned against the counter, lifted on my toes and bit my lip when I felt him positioning. Entering me again. From a whole new angle that made me spew profanity because it felt so good.

  And then he went to work, doling out equal measures of pleasure and pain. Strokes that buried him deep inside me and slices of heat as he followed the thrusts with spanks. I was so close to climax and it was the one thing that he nor I could control. When I reached the pinnacle of pleasure, I didn’t try to wrangle it. I fell into that sexual black hole, pushed further when I felt him still pumping and he let out a thunderous groan that told me he was spiraling out of control himself. Lost in bliss.

  I stayed panting and trembling on the counter, it barely registering when he left the room. My eyes flew open when I felt a warmth spreading over my bottom, and I blushed, letting out a giggle when he spread me open and stroked me with what he retrieved, a warm wash cloth. It felt good and new, but he paused, like he’d forgotten something.

  “I want to feel your body pressed against mine beneath the water,” he murmured in my ear, making me shiver.

  I was still in a daze, following him like I was the visitor and this wasn’t my humble abode.

  The world settled back in place as we stepped into my bathroom. I almost asked him why he guessed this room was mine, but considering the crazy mess of things had an epicenter of my bedroom and my roommate’s door was closed, it didn’t take a detective to figure it out.

  He turned on the shower first and beckoned for me to follow him.

  I didn’t want to overthink this, I didn’t want to think at all, so I went with the flow. Sighed in his embrace as he shampooed my hair and clutched my wet body against his.

  “I could get used to this,” he said. And not in jest. He sounded serious. Like he meant it.

  I was thinking the same thing, and in no mental place to pretend like this didn’t feel as right as it did. I couldn’t beat around the bush. I couldn’t pretend that I didn’t want him. And not just like this, spanked, bent over and used. I wanted him...to be mine. I wanted to be his. And I didn
’t want there to be any doubt in his, mine, Cassidy, or anybody’s mind.

  I spun around, letting my worries wash down the drain as I stared up at the guy that I chose.

  The guy I cared about.

  The guy I thought was a jerk, and was, but he was also vulnerable and sexy and funny and stubborn and...I was falling for him.

  When he smiled at me, my heart corrected me.

  What do you mean, falling?

  It has happened.

  You’re in love.

  “What are we gonna do?” I asked softly, tracing his jawline with my fingertips.

  “We’re gonna see where this leads, I hope,” he answered, sweeping a hand over his wet locks. “Leave the rest up to me.”

  Leaving things up to other people wasn’t my strong suit, but I inhaled, gazing at him, making sure he was all in. Making sure he knew I was giving him a chance to call it off.

  He didn’t.

  CHAPTER TWENTY: JASON

  “Are you ready for your close up?!”

  I cut my eyes to Delia, who was enjoying this whole thing a little too much. Even if the bulbs around the mirror weren’t bright enough to blind, her smile was. Every tooth in her mouth shone like a shark who was about to throw down.

  “I’m as ready as I’m gonna be,” I grumbled, fidgeting in the shop chair. Calling it a shop chair seemed like eggs on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich—it just didn’t fit. A shop was a place with sawdust and metal and wood. I refused to admit that the makeup trailer qualified. The dust wasn’t of the saw variety, but some chalky hue clung to the countertops and choked the air. The metal poked out from containers: scissors, tweezers, and nail clippers. And the wood? It was the base of the brush that the grinning makeup artist was clutching as she advanced toward me.

  “What are you doing with that?” I asked warily.

  “Relax, Mr. Cox!” she said, her wispy voice like some zen yoga instructor that would have put me to sleep if I hadn’t been on alert. Not to mention I’d clocked in several hours of sleep last night, courtesy of the most insatiable woman I’d ever met. A woman I was glad I didn’t bring to this circus.