by Alisha Rai
“So you make some good tips?”
She responded to the ghost of a tease in his eyes. “I said I liked it for a reason. That’s one of the reasons.”
“What are the others?”
“I feel like myself there. I can talk to people and chat with them. It’s good to keep my skills sharp.”
“What else?”
He knew. He was remembering what she’d said, about picking up bed partners at the bar. Her breathing grew shorter. “I . . . you know.”
“Tell me again.” He placed his barely touched beer on the coffee table.
Use me.
“The . . . the sex. I can find people there who don’t know me.”
“I know everything about you.”
“Maybe not everything.”
“A lot.”
“Yes,” she whispered. “That’s why I told myself it was wrong to—”
He took her beer and placed it on the table as well, then moved closer, so they were sitting hip to hip. “Wrong to what?”
“To need you like this.”
“It’s not.”
There was no one and nothing to interrupt them right now. Nothing that could stop her.
She wanted him. It was unwise and complicated, but she didn’t know how she’d survive if she couldn’t have him.
She’d regret it forever, and she lived with enough regrets.
“Ground rules.”
“Yes?”
She traced his nose. He was completely frozen as she ran her finger over his lips, and then his eyebrows, his cheeks and his ears. She took her time, examining every feature. She had to relearn him. This wasn’t the boy she’d known. He wasn’t the man she’d created in her imagination, reading her letters miles away.
He was new, and so was she.
“Sadia. The rules?”
Oh yes. She stroked his neck, the thud of his pulse against her forefinger. “No matter what happens between us, you don’t disappear again. You can leave this town and you can avoid me, but you’ll be there for Kareem. He needs an uncle like you in his life.”
He stared at her for a long moment and slowly, the corners of his lips pulled up. The lines around his eyes crinkled, and his teeth flashed.
A smile.
She drew back. It was there and gone so quickly she might have missed it, but she clutched it close to her.
“I would be honored to be in Kareem’s life. But I’m not going to disappear again.”
She didn’t know if she could believe that second part, but so long as he agreed to the first, she would somehow muddle along. She leaned forward and pressed her lips against his. She ran her hands over his skull and down to his thick neck, scraping her fingernails over it. They kissed lightly, learning each other.
Finally, she pulled away. “Do you want to go to my bedroom?”
He glanced around the living room, his gaze stopping on the framed family photo on the bookcase. She flushed.
There was no graceful way to get around the fact that she’d shared a bed with his brother, so she’d sacrifice grace for bluntness. “Paul and I were separated. We hadn’t slept together for almost a year before he died. The bed in my room is new.” It was an offer and an explanation.
She expected a million questions about their separation, but other than his thoughtful frown, he didn’t ask, only nodded. “Maybe next time. This first time, though . . . I want you somewhere with no memories.” He extended a hand. “Come with me?”
Jackson had to wait for Sadia to go to her room and grab her phone, which gave her access to the monitor in Kareem’s room. She avoided his gaze the whole time, though he didn’t think it was because she was embarrassed.
No, she was aroused. He could see it in the flush of her cheeks, her rapid breaths. “Here,” she said, after she locked up the house, and handed him a foil packet.
He closed his fist around it, understanding why she’d gone to her bedroom. He was operating on pure lust and adoration now, every drop of blood from his brain redirected to his dick. And his heart, which was pounding so loud, he feared she could hear it.
He paused on the third porch step. She glanced at him. “What’s wrong?”
He tested the step. “Something’s wrong with this one.”
“I know.”
“I’ll fix it,” he promised.
Her eyes gleamed in the near darkness. “Later. Fix it later.”
Yes. Later.
He led her to the garage, and she started laughing. “Jackson, we’re not going to . . .”
“What?” He opened the passenger side door, shoved back the seat as far as it would go, and got in. The car was newer, less than a couple years old.
He didn’t want to be with her anywhere that she and Paul had also been. It would be too weird, too steeped in reminders he was doing his damnedest to avoid.
“I haven’t had sex in a car—well, ever.”
“Then you should start with me.”
Her lips curved. There was enough light from the car’s interior for him to make out her features and body. She put her hand in his, and he hoisted her over him, onto his lap. Her lips slicked over his. He closed his eyes and let her sample him, each long drag making his hands tighten on her waist. He tugged at her shirt, pulled it up and over her head, tossing it somewhere in the back. He undid her bra and tossed it as well, too consumed with licking her nipples to care about where it landed.
He kissed up her neck, and she stilled on him, her breath catching as he caught her ear between his teeth. He tugged at the flesh before sucking on it and she gave a broken cry, arching her back, her crotch rubbing against his.
“Here? You like this?” he whispered in her ear, and for response, she traced her nails over the back of his neck and pulled him closer. He sucked and licked her again, dipping his tongue inside her ear before switching sides. “Tell me what you like,” he insisted.
“I like—that. What you’re doing.”
“What else? What do you fantasize about?”
The corner of her tongue touched the corner of her mouth. “Everything.”
“Give me specifics.”
Her long fingers dropped to his crotch. She rubbed him through his sweatpants and he inhaled, unable to stand the sensation of the cotton abrading him. “This.”
“My cock?”
She shuddered at the word. “Yes.”
“When did you fantasize about my dick, Sadia?” That was a totally unfair question. She hadn’t dreamt of him the way he had of her.
Her eyes darkened. “After we kissed.”
“You said you used your vibrator.”
“I did.” The words were a purr. Her nipples were dark brown, the points long and puffy. He committed them to his memory, fearful he’d never see them again. Her hand moved over him, again and again, stroking him lazily.
His body jerked, his erection swelling. Her lips parted.
He imagined her fucking a vibrator in her bed, dreaming of him. He shoved at her pants, and she raised herself up so she could awkwardly wrestle them off in the tight confines of the car, along with her pink cotton panties. The dim interior light painted her body with a hint of gray-green.
Her body was perfect, her thighs round, her belly soft. A small vee of hair shielded her pussy from him. “Use me like you used that vibrator,” he ordered, his voice guttural. Like she’d used him in that alley. Only naked this time, so he could feel how wet and slick she got.
Her nostrils flared. She worked his cock free of fabric while he ripped open the condom. She accepted the latex.
The sight of her fingers on his cock was almost too much to bear, but it wasn’t like he could not watch her roll the condom down his length. His stomach clenched when she shifted and pressed his dick between her legs. Her head tipped back and she moaned.
She rubbed the tip of his erection against her clitoris, in a tight circle. He was a captive audience. He wanted to write a treatise on how to please Sadia. “That’s how you like it,” he muttere
d, and placed his hand over hers, squeezing tighter than she’d dared, keeping up the motion she wanted. “What else? Do you fuck yourself with that vibrator?”
She swallowed. “Sometimes.”
“Show me.”
Her heavy breasts swayed when she shifted forward, and he had to give each nipple a suck. Her body jerked against his. “You’re making me lose focus.”
He caught the tip between his lips and tugged before releasing her. “Is that bad?”
“You want to fuck me, don’t you?”
The filthy word on Sadia’s angelic lips made his entire body tense. “Yes.”
She fitted his cock to the opening of her pussy. “Say please.”
If she thought he wouldn’t beg, she didn’t know him at all. He’d waited his whole life for this moment. “Please.”
Her dark eyes narrowed and she moved, just the head of his cock sinking inside of her. His chest worked. She shoved his shirt up greedily. He expected her to delicately stroke his chest, but she scraped her nails over his hard belly, making his body arch. Another tiny inch sank inside her. “Ask me to ride you.”
He gritted his teeth. He never cared who called the shots in the bedroom, so long as he and his partner walked away happy, but he adored Sadia taking charge now.
There was no doubt that he was giving her exactly what she needed. “Please ride my cock.”
Her nails kneaded his chest, like a pleased feline. “Good,” she sighed, and sank down on him.
It was heaven. Nirvana. His eyes slitted, but he couldn’t close them. He couldn’t lose a single second of watching her grind her soft, long body on him. Her brown skin glistened, concentration and lust tightening her face. Her fingers tunneled through his short hair and grasped at his skull as her hips worked faster and harder, each tight contraction drawing his balls tighter.
He couldn’t be a spectator for long. He arched his hips up, fucking her in short, shallow strokes until she was gasping and crying out, unrestrained in a way she hadn’t been in the alley. Her hands traveled over his shoulders, and he grunted in pain when she brushed against his new tattoo, hidden under his shirt and a bandage. He adjusted her grip so she would avoid the tender flesh. “What do you need?”
In answer she grabbed his hand and brought it down to her pussy. “My clit,” she whispered. “Touch—oh.” She leaned back to give him greater access and he watched his cock penetrate her while he fingered her clit in tight circles, her wetness making him gleam.
“Look at us,” he ordered.
Her hair slipped over her shoulder and tickled his chest when she glanced down. He pressed his forehead against hers while they both stared, their breathing matching. He made his strokes slower and more explicit. “You’re so pretty. Look at that pink pussy. How greedy it is.”
“I need to come. Harder.”
He leaned forward, wrapping one hand around her waist so he could control her better. He kept his other thumb on her clit. “Whatever you’d like.”
He shafted her hard and deep, holding her close. When her cries became louder, he latched onto her ear, sucking hard. She shivered and came on his lap, small, broken noises falling from her lips.
Her pussy gripped his dick so snug and tight he came with her, every part of him seizing and releasing.
He wanted to stay here forever, but eventually she moved to the other seat. She got dressed in silence, murmuring a thanks when he retrieved her shirt and bra from the backseat. He only had to take care of the condom and pull his sweatpants back up.
He winced when his leg creaked. He was too old for sex in a car.
He half-expected her to run away or to turn shy once she was put to rights, but instead she awkwardly hopped into his seat again and snuggled up in his lap. Stunned, he automatically put his arm around her.
“Can we keep doing this?” she asked.
Oh, thank God. “Yes.”
“I know you’re going to leave for New York soon. And who knows where after that.”
He didn’t know if the reminder was for him or her. Maybe both of them.
It didn’t matter. They could have this even if they had nothing else. He’d learned this lesson before, knew how much love could hurt, and he’d probably limp when he walked away from here, but the bright flaring colors in his heart would make that pain worth it. He wanted to taste those colors for as long as humanly possible. Love truly was addictive.
There was no surprise he’d been willing to take on a felony charge for her. He’d done it for Paul yes, but it had mostly been for her. Not that she could ever know that. “C’mere.” He pulled her tighter against him, and didn’t answer her. He would do his best to keep her safe and keep her from being hurt. If he got battered, that was fine. He’d been battered before. He was still standing.
He feared he was holding her too tight, but she didn’t complain. Yes, even if he hurt, he’d take this for now.
Chapter 18
He was here tonight.
Baseball cap pulled low, slouched in a booth in the darkest corner of O’Killians, away from the crowds. Friday nights were always busy, but she’d been on the lookout, so she’d registered his presence the second he’d slunk in.
She wanted to hop the bar and go running at Jackson, but that might call more attention to them than either of them wanted. Besides, she was still working.
She placed a drink in front of the customer who had ordered it. “Enjoy.”
The guy peered up at her. “No history lesson tonight?”
“Um.” She racked her brain for the name and year of the creation she’d made. “It’s . . . turn of the century, and um . . .”
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Jackson shifting, his legs widening.
Actually, it was already five minutes past her shift. Time to go.
“It’s good,” she finished. “Try it.”
She moved away before he could demand anything more from her poor brain. She stripped her apron off as she walked, pausing only to speak to the other bartender. “I’m going to take off now, if you don’t mind.”
Jason nodded. “No problem.”
After making sure no one was paying attention to her, she headed over to the booth in the corner. His smile was visible, even with his disguise. She’d grown used to his tiny smiles over the past couple weeks.
She was going to miss them when he was gone. The day he’d leave for his job in New York was rapidly approaching. She didn’t know what would happen after, but she assumed he’d be back for Livvy and Maile, who he’d seen a few times now. Not to mention Kareem, who followed him around like a tiny shadow. They’d bonded so tightly every other word out of her son’s mouth started with “uncle.”
And hopefully, he’d be back for her, she not-so-secretly hoped. For sex or for friendship. Though she’d be sad when this off-the-charts sex ended. She’d had good sex before, but Jackson was so eager to do whatever she wanted.
Sadia shivered. So. Eager.
She stopped next to his table, every nerve ending prickling in anticipation of his touch. “Here again, huh?”
“Can’t stay away.” He glanced up at her, that sideways glance that never failed to make her heart pound. “You didn’t make me a special drink tonight?”
She’d been in such a hurry to get to him, she’d forgotten. “Let me get you something.”
He caught her wrist before she could go. “No. It’s okay. I’d rather be sober when I’m inside you.”
She flushed and automatically glanced around, but no one was paying attention to them. “Jackson,” she hissed.
His eyes warmed. “Is that not what we’re going to do?”
“You know very well it’s exactly what we’re going to do.” She flipped her hand around so she was the one holding him and tugged. “Come on. It’s time to go home.”
He obliged and they left the bar together, the noise cutting off as the door closed behind them. She inhaled the apple-scented air. “Winter’s going to be here soon.”
&nb
sp; “Mmm. Have you been to New York City around Christmas?”
A chill that had nothing to do with the weather ran through her. “No.”
“You should go.”
Ah, okay. This wasn’t an invite. It was a suggestion.
She wasn’t disappointed. She would have had to shoot down an invite. An invite would have been way too relationship-y. She’d been so careful not to fall in love with him so far. She’d succeeded.
Have you?
Yeah. Sure she had. “Someday I’ll go.” She stopped next to her car. He slid his arms around her waist and walked her backward, until her butt met the vehicle.
Jackson rested his forehead against hers, his fingers brushing her shirt up so he could stroke the strip of flesh above her pants. “How did Lucy work out for you today?”
Her smile was more of a grimace. Lucy had shown up yesterday morning, a bright young chef fresh out of school with glowing recommendations and a sweet attitude. Jackson had been the one to find her, through his mysterious contacts in the culinary world. Lucy had easily fit into the kitchen and after hovering behind her all day yesterday, Jackson had left her alone today as a test.
“She didn’t do well,” he guessed, misinterpreting her grimace. “My friend can find you someone else.”
“No, no. She’s great. I like her a lot.” The problem wasn’t Lucy. The problem was what she represented, yet another reminder Jackson was leaving. She twined her arms around his neck and tugged. “Let’s stop talking about work, huh?”
His thumb stroked her side. “What do you want to talk about instead?”
“I don’t want to talk.” Or think.
His lips met hers, and he kissed her like he understood that desire completely. His hands roved over her back and tugged at the hem of her shirt, pulling it up so he could skim over her back and up to her bra.
His fingers found the clasp, but before he could undo it, a loud whistle came from behind them, followed by drunken laughter.
He pulled away, his body blocking her from whoever was behind them. She noticed he did that a lot, using his body to shield her. “I like watching, but I hate being watched,” he said. “We should head out.”