He seriously had no idea. Jake didn’t have to demand she wear the ring. All he had to do was ask.
“My feelings aren’t the point here. It’s too much.”
“Becca, you have enough money to buy a hundred of these rings. It’s not too much. It’s barely anything.” He offered her a smile—hesitant and slow and all the more powerful because of it. “And you should probably know the ring isn’t the only thing I asked my dad for today.”
“Oh, God. Please tell me there isn’t some family tiara you’re going to foist on me. You have to warn me about these things ahead of time.”
His smile gained confidence. “There are no tiaras that I know of, and I doubt Monty would let me get my hands on one if there was. But I am going to start working with my brother.”
The ring slid off her finger in her surprise. Jake was waiting to catch it.
“You? And Monty? Doing what?”
He laughed and slid the chain through the band. “You don’t have to be quite so incredulous. So far, all I’ve signed up for is golf.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“I’m not sure I do either.” He held the necklace up in a gesture for her to take it, but her arms were having a difficult time doing what she told them to. “Wear the ring. I already know you hate the idea of being married to me, and nothing about our arrangement is going to change if you accept it. But I need you to stick with me on this for a little bit longer.”
“Why?”
“Because.” He offered the word as though it was enough, as if nothing at all had changed in the few weeks of their engagement. Probably because for him, nothing had. With a sigh, he said, “Because I’m not done yet. Because you’re not done yet. And because I think I might actually like the idea of helping Monty out for a change.”
She wanted him to say more about why he wasn’t done, why she wasn’t done, why they weren’t done, but it seemed safer to latch onto that last one. “You aren’t upset at being forced to come here?”
He lifted a finger and grazed her cheek. “No one has ever been able to make me do something against my will, Becca. Not even you.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yes. I know what you mean, and that doesn’t change anything.” He smiled. “It might not be so bad after all, this working-with-the-family-foundation stuff. All those years of sitting around waiting and watching might actually end up being useful. I’m going to become Monty’s grease man, using my powers of observation for good.”
“Does this mean you’re going to start wearing all black and spend three-fourths of your time on the phone like he does?”
“Christ, I hope not.” He shook the necklace again, and she had no choice but to lower her head and lift her hair, feeling like Marie Antoinette offering her head to the guillotine. The movement drew him near enough for her to smell the mild tang of his soap, feel the heat rising off his body and encircling hers.
He worked the clasp quickly and neatly, adjusting the billowing white top of her oversized tee as she straightened again. When she caught him staring at her—at where the ring dipped into her shirt, cold against her heart—she shivered. And when he lifted a hand and came close enough to touch it, she almost lost it altogether.
But he pulled back before he went too far. As he always did. As he always would.
“Don’t get smug, but I think the reason I’ve always hated working for my family is because I’ve been reacting to the position they chose for me,” he said. “Sit behind a desk? Not for me. I never stay in one place for very long. Oversee the international branches? No thanks. I’d rather experience new places nightclub by nightclub. Work in finance? Ha. I don’t make money. I spend it.”
“So what changed?”
He shrugged the only way Jake knew how, a slight lift of the shoulder and cock of the head, a concise movement you had to be watching for, or you missed it. “They’re not telling me what to do. This time, I’m telling them where I think I’ll fit.” He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t say it.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“Don’t even think it.”
“I have no idea what you mean. There’s nothing in my head but visions of sapphires and vodka tonics.”
He growled and took a step forward. “It has nothing to do with me being a Virgo without a Leo cusp. It’s because Monty has all the interpersonal skills of a corpse. I can’t expect to live off your generosity forever, so I needed a backup plan.”
“It sounds like a great backup plan.”
“I’m just going to woo a few people, raise a few funds, close a few deals. See if it fits.”
“If anyone can woo, it’s you.”
“If you intend to stand there being obliging, then you also understand why that ring has to stay around your neck. I need some time, Becca, that’s all. You have to give me a chance to figure things out before we go our separate ways.”
Becca opened her eyes, wide and startled, making Jake feel worse than when he’d forced her into this arrangement in the first place. Though worse wasn’t the right word for it. He felt bad, yes. Desperate, assuredly. And there was an underlying panic to the entire exchange that left him scrambling for a foothold.
Okay. Maybe worse was the right word after all. It was difficult to see how things could get any lower from here, but he didn’t know what else to do. Becca wasn’t supposed to take one look at the ring and give it back.
“Can you do that for me?” he asked, his voice catching. “Can you promise to keep the necklace on until I’m ready?”
She nodded, not losing her startled look in the slightest. “Yes, Jake. I promise.”
And that was it. He could get that ring on her finger using force and persuasion, but not of her own volition. He was too much a Virgo, too much a Montgomery, too much a tyrant.
The tyrant in him roared. He’d undertaken the task of making sure she was protected, cared for, able to recover. And he intended to see that task through whether she liked it or not.
“So, how do you want me to proceed?” she asked. “Am I supposed to squeal and jump around and show the ring off every chance I get?”
“I don’t know. Is that what you’d do if this were a real engagement?”
She cocked her head, considering. “Probably. I’ve never been one to hide my light, you know? I think if I were ever going to get married, I’d be dancing on tabletops, flashing the goods every chance I got.”
Jake had to smile. That was exactly what she’d been doing the night they’d gotten into this mess. “So do that. We need this to look authentic.”
“Okay. Do you want to see my engagement ring?”
“I don’t want you to show it to me. I’ve seen it. I just gave it to you.”
“I know, but you haven’t seen how it looks yet.” She pulled the neckline of her shirt out and peered down the front, lips pursed as she examined what lay beneath. She glanced up. “It looks really good. I think you’ll like it.”
He didn’t doubt it. Based on the outline of the ring under her thin white shirt, it hit right at that sweet spot, where the twin swells of her breasts came together to create a perfect crevasse. A man could get lost in there.
“That’s not what I meant when I said you should show it off.”
“You’re the one who chained it around my neck.” She pulled the shirt out farther, dipping it low enough that he could catch a glimpse of cleavage. “How like a man to tie a lady down and then not stick around to enjoy the show.”
“Goddammit, Becca.” He allowed himself a brief, sweeping glance down the front of her shirt. And then he allowed himself another one, though it wasn’t so brief this time. “Now is not the time to test me.”
“Why not? This is the first time I’ve felt I might have a chance to win.”
Not true. She’d
won weeks ago.
As her semi-transparent shirt had promised, her breasts were encased in a lacy black bra, which pushed and swelled and made the most out of the natural curvature of her body. The cut was low enough that a hint of nipple arose out of each cup, calling to him. And just above them was the ring. His mark. A promise—however fleeting—that while she was here, she was his.
Aware that he was making a mistake, and all the more determined because of it, he dropped a hand down into her neckline, allowing his knuckle to graze the top of her breast. She arched into it, falling into a purr of softly bound pleasure.
He didn’t pull his hand away, opting instead to rub his thumb inside the lip of her bra, moving roughly over her nipple. The body part in question responded almost immediately, puckered and rigid, and Becca’s lips parted in a sigh of appreciation. He realized, with a combination of resignation and delight, that she wouldn’t stop sighing like that until she got what she wanted.
He had to admire that persistence. Even if it tugged so hard at his cock he wanted to howl.
He rolled her nipple between his forefinger and thumb. “What’s your end game here, Tiger?”
“Right now?” She hooked her hands in his belt loops and tugged, forcing him to step closer or risk toppling her to the bed. “I could handle an orgasm. Possibly two.”
“And after that?”
“A nap wouldn’t go amiss.”
He pinched, eliciting a gasp and sending a spike of pleasure through his own body. Spike was an apt description these days. Since stepping up on this strangely noble platform of his, he’d discovered that close proximity to a mewling woman wasn’t as easy to cope with as one might hope. All he wanted to do was toss her to the bed and show her how many orgasms she could handle.
But he couldn’t. She was in his care. Under his protection. He had never before taken responsibility for another human being, and he wasn’t sure he liked it very much at all.
“So like a cat to sleep the day away.” He gave up on the nipple, pulling down the top of her shirt to bare her shoulder. He bit. When she let loose a sharp cry, he used her momentary lack of balance to push her to the bed. She fell in a sprawl, legs spread, lips parted—and he was sure she did it on purpose. No one fell like wide-open sex unless she was some kind of evil temptress. “And you know that wasn’t what I meant. What do you need, Becca? Other than some time with your sister and a few orgasms?”
She stuck her lower lip out in a pout. “I’d like a lot more than a few.”
Jake took a dangerous step forward, looming over her as if he meant to attack. God, she wished he would. For once, it would be nice to force this man to lose a little control, to prod him into a full attack.
But she could hardly say that was what she needed. She didn’t need anything, though she wanted plenty.
She wanted to avoid rehab, preferably for the rest of her life. She wanted to get away from horrible people like Dana and Trish, who brought up painful reminders of her loss without regard for her feelings. She wanted to spend time with people who actually cared about her.
And if she liked the way Jake’s family ring settled on her chest, heavy and comforting, was that really the worst thing in the world? She didn’t plan on keeping it. He could have it back the second he asked.
She settled for the answer she knew would get the biggest reaction out of him. “I’m only here because you commanded it.” She wriggled her body into a more suggestive pose. “Anything else you care to demand? You did promise to sate my every need.”
He took a step closer, so near he was one small leap away from covering her with his body. And she wanted him to—all that lean, perfectly contained strength. All those careful Virgo qualities unleashed on top of her.
Her heart leaped as he reached down and unfastened the button of her rocker skinny jeans, his fingers rough as they tugged the fabric over her hips. Finally, he was going to do this properly. She lifted her ass off the bed as he pulled her jeans the rest of the way off, leaving her squirming there with panties so wet the dampness was visible from the outside.
And then he backed away. She was in a shirt and underwear, panting with desire, and the jerk backed away, looking at her as one might an exhibit in a zoo. Well, a sexy zoo. A sexy zoo full of half-dressed human captives. That sounded quite nice, actually. Warm heat flooded through her, stopping between her legs and causing her to squirm.
“Do it yourself.”
She propped herself up on one elbow. “What did you just say?”
He lifted an arrogant brow, rendering him into a godlike statue of skin and bone. “You want me to make demands? Fine. Slip a finger inside your underwear and touch yourself. I’m tired of doing all the work around here.”
Becca felt a slow, satisfied smile creep across her face. The only thing better than having Jake rip an orgasm from her body was to have him watch while she did it herself. She opened her legs wider, allowing him a glimpse at just how wet he’d gotten her with a nipple tweak and the promise of more.
“Don’t stall. Touch.”
“Yes, sir.” She ran her hand over the flat of her stomach, slipping underneath the hem of her underwear, not stopping until she reached her hot, wet center. She tipped her head back and gave herself over to a few long, leisurely draws of her finger along the line of her pussy. “Anything else you’d like to see?”
“Yes. You.” As her eyes were closed, she missed seeing him stride forward. But she still felt him draw near, gently lifting the shirt from her body, forcing her hands up as he stripped her.
She tried to adjust her breasts, which he’d made askew in her bra so that one nipple was all the way out, the other sort of half-lumped where it peeked through, but he shook his head. “No. I like it that way.” He made a vague twirling gesture near her cunt. “Please. Continue.”
She had to laugh at the way he so summarily handled his commands—even more so when he carefully pulled up an armchair, providing himself with a ringside seat. She wouldn’t have been surprised to see him extract some popcorn or caviar to munch on during the show.
“You’re not even going to return the favor?” She glanced pointedly at his crotch. Although he sat with his usual careful ease, it wasn’t difficult to see that he was enjoying this show as much as she was. The firm outline of his cock extended down the right leg of his flat-pressed slacks, showcasing everything from the long, hard length of him to the firmly rounded tip. She wouldn’t be averse to watching him stroke a few times. In fact, the idea had her breathing harder.
“Back inside that glorious cunt of yours.” Even though Jake spoke politely, he had to force each word out carefully—otherwise they’d have to be ripped out of him. “You may slip a finger inside if you want, but you have to tell me exactly how it feels.”
Becca, bless her, nodded and did as she was told. He couldn’t tell if it was a desire to please or to tease him that had her so complacent, but he didn’t much care. The sight of her on his bed, disheveled and askew, her expression serene as she slipped her hand back into her underwear and resumed her self-pleasure, was hot enough that he could probably cross his legs and come on the spot. All that was needed to take him from hard to explosive was a half second of friction.
Which was precisely why he didn’t move.
“I believe you might be forgetting something,” he said, once he was certain of his ability to breathe and talk at the same time.
“Hmm?” Her eyes flew opened, dazed. When she saw his look of warning, she grinned. “Oh, sorry. I got distracted. It feels amazing. I’ll take the high road and refrain from words like saturated, but I think hot and slippery and tight might fit the bill. Are you sure you don’t want in? Mean Max has had me on this Kegel regimen you wouldn’t believe. It’s like my twat has been replaced by an eighteen-year-old Puritan’s. I could crush walnuts in here.”
“I’d r
ather not discuss Mean Max or crushed nuts right now, if you don’t mind.”
“I’m just saying. It’s pretty incredible. I could pompoir you to the next century.”
Christ. He could practically feel it—the tightening of her body around him, the rolling sensations as she pulled him up and out of himself using nothing but the muscles of her cunt. “Less talking,” he barked. “More touching.”
She shrugged and arched farther into her hand, the band of her bra slipping off her shoulder and forcing the jut of her breast to reach up for his touch. He let it jut. He let it ache. But his mouth had grown dry and he slowly licked his lips, imagining what she would taste like right now.
“Slow down there, Tiger,” he said, watching as her movements became more intense, her eyes glazed and her breath coming short and fast. If he wasn’t careful, she’d make short work of this task—robbing him of the brief moment of pleasure he was allowing himself. A spectator on the sidelines. Forcing himself to sit this one out. “Don’t come until I say so.”
“Now you’re just being mean,” she said, but her pace slackened and she released a whimper of protest. “How long are you going to make me suffer?”
“Are you suffering?” he asked. He certainly was. The crotch of her underwear was all but transparent by now, and he could catch glimpses of the pink sheen of her bare pussy as she rotated a finger around her clit. The rest of her was also beginning to take on that same rosy hue—sweat and flushed skin, a woman being driven to the edge of madness.
She’s not the only one.
“I’ve felt better,” she managed, her breath short.
“I bet you have. I doubt you’ve ever looked better, though.” Since she seemed unable to keep her hands off herself for very long, he decided to increase the element of torture—though he wasn’t sure which one of them was the intended victim. “But the real question is, how do you taste?”
Her eyes flared in surprise, her lashes fluttering. As he hoped, surprise gave way to understanding, understanding to capitulation. Without losing eye contact, she withdrew her hand and brought her forefinger to her mouth. Lips puckered, tongue swirled, and she licked a rounded path around the digit. Jake allowed himself one tiny shift in the chair, leaning forward ever-so-slightly, while she slipped her middle finger in.
When I Fall Page 20