My cheek is pressed against the bedding, and my cries are way too loud for a respectable apartment building.
“Oh fuck, you’re getting tighter. You’re almost there, aren’t you?”
“Yeah. Gonna come. Gonna come so hard.” I can’t control the rising climax in this position so I just clench my hands into fists again and let the feelings overwhelm me.
“There you go. There you go.” He pushes into me a few final times, pushing me over the edge.
I cry out as I come, and I hear him let out a loud bellow too, but as I come down I realize it’s not because he was coming but because he is fighting not to come.
I’m limp and gasping as he slips out, and I kind of topple sideways to the bed.
“Why didn’t you come?” I ask, my voice rather ragged.
He turns me over and slides me toward him. He’s sitting on his knees, and he brings my body forward so my groin is in alignment with his. “Because it’s not over yet.”
“Oh. Wow. I’ve got to say, though, that it might be over for me. That wiped me out.”
He smiles at me, almost predatory. “We’ll see.”
For some reason, I feel a swell of affection and I smile at him fondly. He might be arrogant and pushy and so secretive you want to strangle him but he’s also so much more.
He pauses, evidently noticing my expression. Something changes on his face too, and he doesn’t move for a full minute.
“I thought you were going to fuck me again and prove me wrong about being done,” I say at last.
“Right.” He lifts my hips more so he can line his cock up at my entrance and then maneuvers his way inside.
It’s incredibly tight now, and I really don’t think I’m going to come again.
But, if he wants to try, then who am I to stop him?
His eyes are crawling over my body, which is stretched out in a rather undignified position. Normally, I’d be embarrassed, but I can’t be self-conscious under the possessive fire of his gaze.
It’s like he’s looking at everything he’s ever wanted. A girl can really get used to that.
“Well,” I ask at last. “Aren’t you going to get moving?”
“I am. I just can’t get enough of you.”
“Don’t go overboard with the compliments. I’m nothing special.” I say this mostly because I feel like it should be said—out of principle, if nothing else.
“You don’t expect me to believe that, do you?” He shifts me slightly, moving his cock inside me in a way that makes me gasp. “You’re the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.”
“That’s what you said on the first day of school when you barged into my room.”
He almost smiles. “Yeah. That was a good morning. I could barely keep myself from dragging you into bed and fucking you until you screamed.”
“I thought you were obnoxious.”
“Did you?”
“Yeah. Although I did think you were hot.”
His smile broadens. “That’s what I thought.”
“Don’t be arrogant.”
“I’m not arrogant, princess. You have no idea how much I wanted you back then and every day since. You have no idea how beautiful and sexy you are.”
“No need to stretch credibility here. You’ve already got me in bed.”
He chuckles, and I feel it all the way through him. “Everything about you makes me crazy. I love your thighs, and the curve of your hip here.” He moves one hand to slide up my thigh to my hip. “And your perfect little ass, which you were showing me so irresistibly a few minutes ago.”
“Hey, you were the one who put me in that position.”
“Don’t pretend you didn’t like it. And I love these.” He slides his hands up to my breasts, leaving it to me to stay in position.
I don’t know if you’ve ever tried it, but it’s a little awkward in this position, your butt in his lap, your legs dangling on either side of his hips, and your back lifted up off the bed in a way that stretches your abs.
Not that I’m complaining, of course. I feel pretty damn good.
He palms my breasts and then starts to rub the nipples with the pads of his thumbs, the way he did the other day.
Just like last time, it feels so good I arch my back and gasp.
“You like that, don’t you?”
“You know very well I do.” I’m not actually grumpy, but I figure it’s better not to let him think I’m a spineless pile of mush.
He just laughs and keeps caressing me. I’ve never actually had a man fondle me with so much attention while he was inside me. It’s such a strange combination of feelings that soon I’m writhing beneath his touch.
“Shh,” he says, his eyes hot and soft. “Try to keep still.”
“Oh, God, I can’t.” I stretch my arms out spread-eagle and fumble at the bedding. “Oh, God, it feels so good.”
His thumbs twirl little circles on my tight nipples, and I fight to hold my pelvis completely still.
“I can tell it feels good. You’re getting tighter around me every second. I thought you said you weren’t going to come again.”
“I did but—” I choke on a sudden jolt of pleasure, and then before I know it an orgasm rips through me. He isn’t thrusting or anything, so it’s completely unexpected. But I come undone—just from the tight penetration and his work on my breasts.
It’s not exactly a screaming orgasm, but I shudder helplessly and release a long, helpless moan.
When I come back to my senses, he’s looking way too pleased with himself.
“That was an accident,” I say, rather stupidly.
He laughs out loud, eases his cock out, and lowers my bottom back down to the bed. He moves over me so he can kiss me lightly. “It’s wasn’t an accident on my end.”
“Shut up.”
“Oh, damn, Chloe, you have no idea how much I want you.”
“Then don’t hold back,” I tell him. “You keep telling me to let go, but I want you to let go too.”
He stares at me for a long time in silence. “I don’t know if I can.”
“You can.” I reach up to cup his scratchy face. “You trust me, don’t you?”
“Of course I do.”
“Then let go. I trust you too.”
He groans and leans down to kiss me again, but this one is deep and long and ravenous.
Soon, I’m rocking beneath him and clawing at his back. Finally, I tear my mouth away. “How do you want me? I want you to let go, so how do you want me?”
He groans again, like he can’t seem to stop, and he turns me over onto my stomach. He lifts my bottom in the air until he can slide in, and we both moan at the tight sensation.
I turn my head so we can kiss some more, and he starts to thrust as we do.
At first, it’s tight and shallow and pleasurable, rocking together with the motion of our kiss.
But soon he starts to lose control, exactly as I want. He braces himself on the bed so he can thrust more vigorously. It’s hard and choppy and raw and exactly what I need.
Soon, I’m crying out, but I don’t even know if the pleasure is more physical or emotional. He’s grunting like an animal, not holding back anymore.
And that’s what I want. That’s what I’ve always wanted.
He’s mumbling out all kinds of disconnected words, “Good, yes, need, fuck, princess, so good.”
The bed is knocking loudly against the wall, and I’m afraid my neighbor might be giving me dirty looks in the morning, but that kind of concern is too far out of my mind to have an impact at the moment.
It’s Jack. Only Jack. In all of his strength and passion and possessive fire and absolute devotion.
And it’s all centered on me. For whatever reason. He’s giving all of it to me.
I can feel it in every thrust, in every drive of his body, in every grunt or choked word. In every push against me and the bed.
And it’s so much more—it means so much more—than any orgasm. But another one is swe
lling up anyway, with all the rising feeling in my heart.
Both of us are too loud when we finally reach the moment when the tether is broken and the rush of everything is unleashed.
Then both of us collapse, his cock slipping out of my body in the tumble.
He gathers me to him, kissing my hair, my neck, my cheek, my lips, my eyelids.
And I’m almost crying, although I couldn’t tell anyone exactly why.
As I shake against him, he pulls me even closer.
Neither of us says a word, but neither of us really needs to.
When you strip everything else away, you’re left only with the raw, vulnerable core of another person. And, if you can’t trust the other to take care of it, to protect it like they protect themselves, then the shell closes down around it again, keeping the other away from anything that matters.
I have no shell, lying limp and exhausted in Jack’s arms tonight.
And it’s okay—it’s really okay—because his shell is finally gone too.
Interlude
Jack
When you fall like I’m falling, you’re just waiting for the crash at the end of the drop.
You know the crash coming. You can’t freefall forever without hitting the ground. The faster you fall, the harder you hit. If they don’t teach you that in physics class, then they really should.
I’ve been falling since the first day I met Chloe, and it’s only getting faster, harder, deeper. And I’m going to have to admit that I’m strong enough to let her go the way I should.
She’s asleep right now, pressed up against me, naked and clinging and warm. I feel like I’ve been through a battle, so much has been taken out of me by the sex we just had. It’s like everything inside me was poured out and into her, and I’ll never get it back.
I’m not sure I even want it back, and I just don’t know how I feel about that.
I’m not used to be frightened. I almost never am anymore. For years, I felt callused and hard—too impenetrable for emotions like fear. But I feel it shaking inside me now, as I hold her, as she clings, as she seems to trust me even in her sleep.
I can’t help but remember all the reasons why I’ve always been so sure I can’t be with her.
I’m her bodyguard. It’s a boundary that shouldn’t be crossed.
She’s a lot younger than me. She’s still in college. She isn’t nearly as hard and jaded and disillusioned as me.
My professional distance has been blown to smithereens. That means I can’t do my job the way I should. I don’t really think her life is genuinely in danger—the threats don’t seem to be anything but noise—but I thought the job seven years ago was a cotton-candy case too.
And it wasn’t. It just wasn’t.
I can’t let something like that happen again. Not to anyone. Especially not to Chloe.
Being with Chloe means I give up control over my life, my mind, my body, my emotions, and that means things can fall apart the way they did seven years ago.
My father will never forgive me. Maybe that doesn’t really matter. More than ever, I’m not the man he thinks I am. I don’t feel like that man with Chloe. I feel like someone different. Better. Freer.
But being free isn’t worth the damage it could cause. Chloe can’t be the victim of my experiment with autonomy.
I’ve always known one thing is true. Let go just a little, and you let go of everything. And then there’s nothing left to hold the universe together.
She shifts, sliding her hand higher on my chest, but she doesn’t open her eyes. I’ve dreamed of holding her like this for so long. I can’t believe it’s happening now.
But maybe I shouldn’t be doing it. Not if it means things might spiral out of control. Not if it means there’s a chance of her being hurt.
There are so many things that can hurt her. Including me.
If I can walk away now, the damage will be minimal—to everything except my heart. I really believe this is true. I even try to move my arms, to let her go, to roll away from her.
To walk out of this room.
I can’t. I just can’t. There has to be another way. Some way for me to keep her and to also keep her safe.
And then it occurs to me. Her father has given her a way to escape from the mess—something that would be a dream come true for her. She wasn’t sure she wanted the semester in Paris, but her reasons for saying “no” weren’t based on anything good.
If she will go to Paris, she’ll be safe. And I won’t have to let her go. I’ll be able to keep what I want without letting loose the tethers that have controlled my universe for the last seven years.
It’s not perfect, but it’s something. And when you’re freefalling, you cling to any safety line you can grab.
Nine
Chloe
I wake up feeling sore and hot and really, really good.
It takes me a minute to process why, but the fog clears eventually, and I realize I’m under the covers of my bed with Jack. I’m smushed up against him, and he’s holding me protectively, which is why I’m hot. And we had crazy good sex not so long ago, which is why I’m a little sore.
And I don’t have that horrible heavy clench in my gut, which is why I feel so good.
When I’m awake enough, I shift away from him so I can look up at his face. He’s awake and watching me.
“Hi.” That’s me, as brilliant a conversationalist as always.
“Hi.”
“You okay?”
His body is relaxed, but his face isn’t really. I’m not sure what to make of the look in his eyes. “Yeah. What about you?”
“I’m good. A little sore.”
Since it seems like he’s not about to pull away, jump out of bed, and run for the hills, I take the time for a leisurely stretch, trying to untighten some of my muscles.
“Nothing wrong with that kind of soreness,” he drawls in a familiar voice.
“Did you hear me complaining?”
He gives a huff of laughter and stretches himself as well. “To tell you the truth, I’m a little sore too.”
“What did you do to make yourself sore?”
“Did you really forget already?” He frowns at me, lowering his arms and turning over on his side toward me.
“I didn’t forget. I’m just saying that I was in the strange positions. I had the hard part.”
He raises his eyebrows, hiding a smile. “You had the hard part?”
Ridiculously—it’s absolutely ridiculous, but what the hell can I do about it?—I blush at the innuendo. “You know what I meant.”
With a chuckle, he rolls over so he’s almost on top of me. “Yes, I know what you meant.”
He lowers his mouth and I start to object because we just woke up and there has been no tooth-brushing going on yet. But he doesn’t kiss me on the mouth.
He trails a line of kisses down my neck, pulling the blanket back to reveal my completely naked body.
Despite the fact that he’s seen everything there is to see, he’s touched everything there is to touch, I’m still a little self-conscious as he gazes hungrily at my body. It’s morning, after all, and it’s different when a guy stares at your body in a context that’s not sex.
When he frowns, I instinctively stiffen my spine. “What’s wrong?”
Surely I haven’t grown incredibly unattractive overnight.
“I did this to you.”
I look down to where his eyes are focused and there are gray bruises in the shape of fingermarks around my ribs. I look down farther and see them on my hips and thighs too.
“I just bruise easily. They don’t hurt.”
He’s still frowning, and his big hand runs down the length of my side and my thigh. Then back up. His touch is incredibly gentle.
“Jack, you didn’t hurt me. You weren’t that rough.”
“You’re so small,” he murmurs, his eyes following his hand as he caresses me. “So…so fragile.”
“I’m not that fragile. Don’t be melo
dramatic.”
“You’re so beautiful.” He leans down and kisses my collarbone, one of his hands skating over the curve of my breast. “I feel like I’m going to break you.”
So I’m feeling all kinds of things at once—something soft and melty, and then something else that riles up at the words.
The soft feeling won in my body. I arch my spine and stretch beneath his hand and mouth. I’m not really aroused but everything feels so incredibly good.
But the riling up feeling won in my mind. “I’m not going to break, Jack. If you really think that, then we’re never going to…we’re never going to be anything but fuck buddies.”
That’s the best I can do, since I was about to say we can’t be in a relationship, and he’s never offered that to me.
He nuzzles between my breasts, his stubble scratching my skin. “I want to protect you. I want to take care of you. Is that so wrong?”
“No, it’s not wrong. But you have to treat me like a real person and not a doll or something.”
“I know you’re a real person. You’re the most amazing person I’ve never known.” His face has lowered now to my belly, and he presses soft kisses into it.
One of his hands goes back to my breast, gently palming it. My nipple tightens automatically under the touch.
“Jack,” I say, arching my back again. “This is really nice, but I’m not sure I’m in the mood for sex.”
“That’s fine. I don’t touch you just because I want sex.”
“Really?” I pull on his shoulders until he raises himself up and I’m able to slide a hand down to his hard cock. “Because it feels like you want sex.”
He smiles down on me with such warmth that my breath hitches. “What, that? That’s nothing to worry about.”
“Aren’t you done with getting turned on for a while after last night?”
He repositions himself on his back and pulls me over on top of him, tucking me in the curve of his arm. “I’m never done with lusting after you, princess.”
Since I feel so good, and he feels so good, and he’s being so sweet and tender, I slide my hand back down to his cock and stroke it lightly.
“Shit, baby,” he mutters, his body tightening beneath me. “If you don’t feel like sex, then it’s kind of cruel to be doing that.”
Knowing Jack Page 13