My hands dive under Jett’s shirt, gliding up his back. Without breaking the kiss, his hand goes to the button of my jeans and he unfastens it with one hand.
Very impressive.
What’s more impressive is how easily his hand slides into my panties, his fingertip zeroing in on and finding my clit for a soft rub. My entire body jerks, hips bucking, and I cry out into his mouth.
My clit has had attention from my own fingers and my vibrator, but with all the sensations going on right now and the speed with which this is all progressing I swear it won’t take much for me to come.
“Need you naked,” he manages to mutter against my mouth, and I very much feel the same, although I’m loathe to have him move away from me.
I suppose it must be done though, because our clothes are definitely in the way. We scrabble and claw, kiss and touch. It’s sloppy and awkward and I vaguely hear a seam of material split, but we’re both too consumed by desperation to care about it.
Somehow, I end up completely naked and Jett has only his shirt off. I try to figure out the best way to rectify the matter so we’re equally unclothed, but my mind fragments when his big hand presses between my legs. The heat from his palm seems to pulse against me and he squeezes softly… intimately. A very strange change of pace from the frantic urgency just moments ago, but before I can even accept that things are slowing, Jett is pressing a long finger inside of me.
I groan loudly… oh, God… so freaking loud.
His finger slides out and thrusts back in. My legs fall from their locked position around him, my heels digging into the floor so that my hips raise into his touch, demanding more.
Jett’s mouth is on my neck and he chuckles darkly over my impatience.
Two can play at that game and I push my hands between us, working at his belt. He angles slightly to the side to give me access, but my fingers fumble as he thrusts two fingers inside me this time. Vision going blurry, I take in a deep breath and try to put some more concentration on his belt.
I manage to get it undone as his mouth works at my neck and his fingers play between my legs. Tremors wrack my body, and my hips move against his hand of their own volition.
Jett grazes his teeth on my collarbone and I shudder, but finally manage to get his jeans open. I frantically push them down his hips, hand diving in and I finally have his hard length against my palm. I squeeze, stroke, tug. I rub my thumb over the wetness on top and revel when his own hips start thrusting into my hand. Both of us writhe and undulate as we touch each other in all the right ways.
I need more.
I ache with needing more.
And whether Jett is reading my emotions or he’s feeling it too, he’s suddenly rolling off me and making a lunge for my purse that’s a few feet away. He doesn’t ask permission but opens it up and pulls out the box of condoms I’d shown him.
I take a moment and appreciate the way he looks right now. That gorgeous face, twisted in lust and concentration as he works a foil packet open. His chest, which is defined and sculpted into beautiful, muscular lines, that I had felt but now enjoy seeing. His pants open, cock sticking out so hard and ready.
A shudder works up my spine as he takes the condom, rolls it onto his length, and then turns back to me.
He practically falls onto me, but manages to hook an arm under one of my legs to pull it up and out. My eyes roll when I feel him take his cock in hand and rub it through my wet folds before pressing the tip to my entrance.
His eyes come to me and I expect him to kiss me again. I even lick my lips, ready for it, but he merely stares hard at me as he punches his hips forward and thrusts deep into me.
“Jett,” I yell out, the invasion so deliciously pleasurable that I can feel an orgasm starting to build.
He grunts. “Couldn’t wait. Sorry.”
“Not sorry. Not sorry,” I chant as he pulls out and drives deeply again.
Oh, God.
Every long, thick inch of him stretching me, hitting something deep inside I didn’t know existed.
Jett wraps his arms around my body, gathers me in close. He presses his face in my neck and his hips start driving over and over again. I can only bring my own arms around his neck and hang on for the ride.
He drives me higher and higher, and I know the fall back down will be glorious.
Lifting his head, Jett stares down and his body goes still inside me. The look on his face is by far the sexiest, most carnal thing that has happened tonight. His expression says he wants to devour me but that it’s going to take hours, maybe days to do it the way he wants.
A long, slow slide of his cock and then he thrusts in again. Slowly, so I can feel every delicious inch.
Jett loosens his arm from my waist and presses his elbow into the carpet so he can lean over me. His eyes stay pinned on mine while he fucks me.
A few slow strokes, but then he picks up the pace. His forehead creases with tension as I suspect he’s getting close the way I am.
So very, very close and I want it.
But I don’t.
I don’t want it to end.
Except it’s going to. I can feel it burning hotter, coiling tight between my legs. Every time he drives his cock into me, he pushes me a little closer to the edge. I bite my lip hard, try to center myself, and hold out.
Jett starts thrusting harder, deeper. My body inches across the carpet every time he drives. His forehead drops to mine and he grunts softly with each tunneling move.
“Jett,” I gasp as I start to come apart.
I can feel my muscles starting to ripple around his cock, and I know he feels it too because he groans in approval. My back arches slightly as the orgasm rips free, tearing straight up my spine and shooting right back down between my legs where I spasm violently around him.
And damn… just damn. It might be the best thing I’ve ever felt in my life. It goes on and on, Jett still driving inside me, which I think extends the pleasure.
Gathering me in his arms again, settling all his weight onto me, he flexes his hips, plants deep and groans out his release.
I loosen my hold from around his neck as he lifts his head to stare down at me with bleary eyes. “Jesus,” he mutters. “That was…”
“Yeah, that was…” I murmur, feeling boneless and lethargic.
“Something we have to do again,” he finishes, not what either of us was thinking though.
I happen to concur. “After I get feeling in my body again.”
Jett laughs and presses a light kiss to my jaw before he rolls to his side, bringing me with him. He pulls me in flush with his body, and when his arms wrap around me, it feels more than casual, but it also feels right.
“Any chance you can stay the night?” Jett asks, and for a moment, fear creeps in. If this is casual, shouldn’t I be asking him to take me home right now?
But for the life of me, I don’t want to go.
I want to stay.
I want more of what we just did. I want something for myself.
I can have that and still keep this light.
I’m sure of it.
“Yeah, I can stay,” I whisper, snuggling into his chest. “I’ll just need to call Jenna to let her know.”
CHAPTER 10
Emory
My eyes flutter open slowly and I come to the immediate realization that I’m in Jett’s bed.
After having stayed the entire night.
Of course, Jenna was fine with it when I called and asked her. More than fine, actually. She was quite enthusiastic about the prospect of me finally having sex after being celibate for so long.
Felicity was a bit more delicate. I wasn’t about to tell her I was staying at Jett’s for the night, but I did need to tell her I wasn’t going to be back in time to tuck her in. So that’s all I said, and she’d replied, “That’s okay, Mummy. Aunt Jenna does a great job.”
I was relieved she wasn’t upset, because if I sensed it in the slightest, Jett was just going to take me home. As it
stood, I merely said, “I love you and I’ll see you in the morning.”
I fervently hope that I don’t get the third degree from her, but if she gets inquisitive, I’ll have to be creative in how much of the truth I can give her that’s age-appropriate. She’s nowhere near old enough to understand the physical needs and desires of men and women, and luckily, she seems oblivious to any of it since I’ve not dated since her father and I divorced over a year ago.
Regardless, I was given the green light and well… we didn’t stop for quite a while.
I have no clue what time it is but the bluish cast to the light through the shades makes me think it’s not far past dawn. I lean up onto my elbows, the sheet pulled up over my breasts, and look around the bedroom. I didn’t pay much attention last night. We moved from the living room floor to here, and we didn’t really leave it much after.
Dinner was a pizza that Jett retrieved from the delivery driver after slipping on a pair of sweatpants, but past that, we were pretty much naked and planted on his mattress the entire time.
And I don’t have one, single, solitary regret. Last night was fabulous and I’m so glad he and I decided we could have something light and casual. I know my body, which is a bit sore in all the right places, sure is appreciative.
I glance around and see a digital clock on the opposite bedside table from me.
6:22 am.
It’s Saturday and I don’t have to go into work, although I will work from the house at some point today.
Jett does have to work, the team plane leaving today for an extended road trip. I just don’t know what time. He’s not in the room with me, so perhaps he’s already gone. If so, I’m sure he’s left a note for me somewhere.
In the corner of his room near the closet, I spot a carry-on suitcase filled with folded clothes on the floor. Hanging from the closet door is a zipped garment bag. While I didn’t pay attention to the details of his room last night, I know those things were not there.
Was he packing while I slept? If so, he was incredibly quiet while doing so, I’m sure intentionally trying not to wake me.
Which also means Jett is probably still here at the condo.
The door to the master bath is open, so he’s clearly not in there. But it does remind me that I have to pee.
I slide out of the bed and pad across the thick carpeting to the white tiled bathroom. It has a huge jacuzzi tub that Jett promised we would try at some point, but we never got around to it.
I quickly use the restroom and wash my hands. I give a quick glance in the mirror to see my hair is a mess and decide Jett’s seen worse. I start to walk out, but realize Jett’s been up for a bit. What if he’s already brushed his teeth, and wants to kiss me, but I have monster breath?
Reassessment of the situation has me nabbing his toothpaste. I’m not gauche enough to use his toothbrush but instead use my finger to give my mouth a good scrubbing, then gargle thoroughly. As least if we kiss, he won’t die.
My breath minty and my bladder empty, I make one final decision and walk through the open door and into Jett’s closet. While I’m not shy about my body, and Lord knows Jett has gotten an eyeful of every inch of it, I feel weird prancing out of his bedroom completely naked. I assume my clothes are still lying on the living room floor where Jett stripped me bare when we arrived.
Luckily, he has a row of t-shirts hanging in his closet and I pull one free from a hanger, putting it on. It comes to mid-thigh and I feel sufficiently confident to walk out of the room and confront my “morning after” situation.
I’m not worried how he’ll react. I’m not worried if conversation will be awkward.
I know it will be fine because we agreed it would be casual and loose and easy, and neither one of us has expectations that can be failed at this point.
Easing the bedroom door open, I blank where the kitchen is for a moment, not actually having been in it. Like I said, we spent the entire evening in his bedroom.
Sometimes we were fooling around.
Sometimes we were having amazing sex.
Sometimes we were dozing.
And sometimes we even watched TV.
But his room is where I stayed.
I remember now the kitchen would be to my left, straight back off the living area, so I step out of his room and cut that way.
Before I see Jett, I smell food.
Bacon, more importantly, and my stomach rumbles. While the pizza was delicious last night, I know I burned far more calories than I put in.
I traverse a very short hall, then step into the kitchen, done in contemporary black cabinets and white marble countertops. Jett is at the stove, flipping bacon in a pan.
I can see immediately he’s not all that comfortable cooking, because when the bacon pops and grease hits his hand, he curses and jumps backward.
“Better let me do that,” I say and he jerks, turning to look over his shoulder at me.
“I can do it,” he replies. “Just not very well.”
Laughing, I move in beside him, take the fork from his hand, and nudge him out of the way with my hip. Instead of freely moving away, he loops his arm around my neck, taking my jaw and forcing my head to twist his way before he proceeds to kiss me absolutely breathless.
When he pulls away, he grins. “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” I reply, thankful I did a hack job brush of my teeth.
“I wanted to make you breakfast and serve it to you in bed,” he says, giving me a faux pout of disappointment.
I try not to look at him, keeping focused on the bacon. Because the little glance I got as I walked into the kitchen has me flushed.
He’s wearing nothing but the sweatpants he wore to grab the pizza at the door last night. They hang low on his hips and I got way too big of an eyeful of all his muscular glory above the waistband, my favorite being his left arm which has a thick band of tattoos around his bicep.
But what really got me, and why I don’t really want to look back, is that his sweatpants—while loose—do not hide his sizable dick swinging free in there. He doesn’t have an erection, but he has enough that I can see it outlined against the material, and now all I can think about is sex.
Again.
“So,” I say after clearing my throat. “You’re heading out on a road trip, aren’t you?”
Jett leans back against the counter to my right. “I have to be at the airport at noon. We’ll be back midday on Wednesday.”
I finish flipping the bacon and turn the heat down. “Scrambled eggs, okay?”
“Perfect,” he says and before he can offer, I move to the fridge to grab eggs.
By the time I pull them out, Jett has reached into the cabinet over his left shoulder and pulled out a small metal bowl. When I take it, he asks, “You want a cup of coffee?”
“I assume it’s too much to hope you have tea?” I ask.
He winces apologetically. “Sorry. Hadn’t planned on a Brit staying the night.”
“Oh, have a lot of people stay the night, do you?” I tease as I move to the counter and start cracking eggs, ignoring how important this answer is to me. “And coffee is fine. Black.”
“Actually, I don’t have anyone stay the night,” he replies casually, grabbing a mug to brew a cup from his Keurig.
My head whips his way. “You’ve never had anyone stay the night?”
Jett flushes a bit as he admits, “Let’s just say there’s no one I’ve ever trusted to bring to my place before.”
The implication is clear. He’s a player, as I well know. He does one-night stands. And it makes sense… he knows me by virtue of working for the Vengeance organization. I’m not some potential crazy he picked up at a bar. He’s had dinner at my house.
I’m not sure if I should feel flattered or not, but I move on.
I ask Jett about the upcoming road trip while I finish cooking us a simple breakfast, and he tells me the ins and outs of what each win or loss would mean, as well as how important it is at this point i
n the season to play with consistency.
We move to the table with our plates and coffee. Jett is packing away a whopping five eggs and six pieces of bacon while I’m satisfied with two of each.
As we’re finishing, he pushes his plate back and studies me a moment. “I hope this isn’t the last time you stay overnight with me.”
“I could be amenable to it again,” I reply coyly. “As long as we stay uncomplicated.”
“We’re totally casual, but we’ll be repeat offenders,” he offers with a grin.
“That’s a good way to put it. Monogamy is implied, right? Because even though I can be laid back, I don’t share.”
“Same,” he replied with a laugh and then his expression turns serious. “But I do have to ask you something.”
“Sure,” I reply easily, picking up my cup and taking a sip of coffee. “What is it?”
“You’re not married? To Felicity’s dad, I mean. We both agree we don’t want complications and well… I need to know he’s not a complication.”
I’m taken aback by his question, but I don’t give away the unease this subject causes. He does, however, have a right to know my marital status.
“No,” I reply to him. “We were divorced a little over a year ago. And before that, separated for over a year.”
Simple facts. That’s all it is.
Jett tilts his head, frowning slightly. “Does he have any place in your life? And by that, I mean is he in Felicity’s life?”
Knowing if I’m married is one thing, but how my ex fits into our life is another. That goes beyond what he has the right to know if we’re having a casual fling.
Still, I grace him with an answer that’s short, but true. “He’s not a part of our lives.”
I expect Jett to beam a smile at me, relieved at not having to deal with an ex, but instead, his eyes turn sorrowful. “I’m not sorry for you, but I am sorry for Felicity. That has to be tough.”
And that gets me right in the feels.
That this self-proclaimed avoider of kid complications has rooted down to one of the things I worry most about my daughter… that her father has chosen to not be in her life. Jett—whose parents I know are still together because we didn’t have sex every minute last night—is sensitive and attuned to how impactful something like that can be to a kid.
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