Fall for Him

by J.C. Valentine

  “I’ll never get tired of seeing you on your knees,” he drawls huskily. “Now it’s time to put that mouth to work. Straddle my legs.”

  I do what he tells me. The position places my wet pussy directly on his shins, my breasts flat against the tops of his thighs. If I wasn’t already feeling so needy, the hint of a smile tugging at his full, sensual lips would be reward enough.

  “Good, pussycat. Now do what you do best, and use that brain to figure out what to do next. Remember, no hands.”

  I give a sharp nod of my head and look down, my gaze falling on his erect penis. It’s standing tall, twitching every few seconds as if telling me to hurry it along. He wants me to use the donut, which is rapidly disintegrating in my mouth, but I only need a minute for this.

  Tilting my head, I feel my teeth begin to sink deeper into the donut as I bring it higher, aligning the hole in the center with the head of his cock. It twitches again, jerking away from me a few times and making it that much more difficult to do what I want with it. Which was likely exactly what Rebel had in mind. Sure enough, one glance up at him and it’s impossible to miss the arrogant, mocking laughter in his eyes.

  I chase his cock around a bit more, lifting and lowering my chin until I have it lined up right where I want it. The only problem is it’s too thick to fit through the hole. I chuckle to myself as my mind takes a detour into the gutter.

  “Mmm, looks like you ran into a little snag,” Rebel muses.

  Looking up at him from beneath my lashes, I hold his gaze as I lean forward and wrap my mouth around the head of his cock. My lips, nose, and chin press flush to the creamy glaze, now melting from a combination of saliva and body heat, and push down. The donut cracks and breaks apart, pieces falling off here and there as his cock slowly fills my mouth.

  “Oh, fuck,” Rebel groans, his head dropping back and his eyes drifting closed as I take him deeper, all the way to the back of my throat. I bob my head a few times, drawing a few more pained moans from deep within his chest, before releasing him.

  “Do you want my hands yet?” I purr, running the flat of my tongue around my lips to remove some of the sticky glaze, but there’s too much. Pink icing is smeared everywhere—all over his lower stomach, caught in his pubic hair. I can only imagine what I must look like. We’re both going to need a shower after this. Flicking my tongue out, I lick up the length of his shaft while I wait for his answer.

  After a long moment, Rebel’s eyes pop open, and he releases his hands from behind his head. Grasping the back of my head, his fingers knot in my hair and drag me up his body until our faces are no more than a breath apart.

  “No hands, but I will take that sweet pussy.”

  Opening myself over the top of him, I feel his cock nudge my aching slit. “What about the rest of the donuts? I thought you wanted to play.”

  “Fuck the donuts,” Rebel growls against my mouth. “Playtime is over. It’s time for fucking.” With one upward thrust of his hips, Rebel is lodged deep inside of me.

  “Ah! Yes!” I shout, screwing my eyes shut as Rebel pounds up into me. His fist in my hair yanks my head back, exposing my throat. He arches up to meet me, and I feel the delicious scrape of his teeth along the side of my neck, followed by his hot, wet tongue tracing the throbbing pulse located beneath my jaw.

  My fingers curl into the blankets, and my back arches wildly as he continues to pound into me, his thrusts wild and frenzied. I’m powerless to do anything but accept the brutality of it, receiving my pleasure from his, his furious grunts telling me just how out of control he is.

  Fucking is what we do. I don’t know that it can or will ever change.

  I don’t think I want it to.

  I love the way Rebel comes unhinged. The knowledge that I make him that way. For a man like him, losing control is practically unheard of. So the fact that I can do it...

  It’s the hottest damned thing I’ve ever experienced.

  “Oh, fuck. Shit, Josephine! Ahhh, God, I’m coming!” Rebel’s cries of pleasured pain spark something deep inside of me that I can’t even begin to explain. It’s dark and all-consuming. A passion so profound it reaches into the very heart of my existence and dredges up parts of me I’d thought I’d lost ages ago. Parts of me I’ve been denying exist. Parts that refuse to be ignored any longer.

  I follow him down into the depths of uninhibited pleasure. Stars dance beneath my closed eyelids, creating a stunning display that echoes the torrent of raw emotions sweeping through me now—fierce desire, profound loyalty, wonderment, and stunning realization.

  Our breaths heave from our lungs as our bodies fall limply to the bed. My cheek pressed to his chest, I listen to the thundering of his heart beneath my ear as I slowly regain control of my thoughts.

  I’ve known this for some time, how I feel about Rebel. My true feelings, though I’ve spent a lot of time denying them. I’ve buried them deep in hopes of saving myself from heartache, but I am beginning to realize that it was inevitable.

  Maybe I’m mentally defective, and my family history has destroyed the vital part of me responsible for making smart and informed decisions. Maybe I’m just a self-destructive fool who runs headlong into danger. Maybe his mother was right, and we were meant to be together. Or maybe I just want so badly to believe her words that I’ve allowed myself to turn them into truth.

  Whatever the truth is, all I know is what I feel in my heart—the dull thud inside my chest that reminds me I’m alive aches to be freed from its self-imposed cage. Like a trapped bird whose cage door has been left open, it tells me to step free from my prison and take what life is offering.

  It’s not a matter of if I want to anymore. It’s a matter of when will I.

  I’m tired of living with regret. Of denying myself what I want because I’m afraid of what everyone else will think. I’ve lived my entire life dancing around a bubble of fear and shame, only to push away the one and only person who’s ever accepted me—the real me—right from the start without question or reservation. No judgment—that’s what Rebel offers me.

  Beneath me, Rebel’s chest swells, and he releases a tired yawn. In a matter of moments, he’ll be out cold, detached from this world and from me. I envy him that ability—I’d rather dream than lie here listening to these thoughts race through my head in an endless loop.

  Tracing my fingers lightly over the heated skin of his chest, I fear the words that hover on the tip of my tongue. Not of the response I expect to hear, but of everything that comes after.

  Then I remind myself that a life without risk is a life not lived.

  I want to live.

  In the softest voice I can manage, one barely discernable over the beat of his heart in my own ear, I say, “Rebel...I—I love you.”

  The pattern of his breaths remains unchanged. I inhale a sharp breath of my own, relieved. It’s not easy putting yourself out there, and I’m not exactly brave. Easing into the pillow of his chest, my eyes drift closed, and I focus on clearing my mind.

  “It’s about time.” Rebel’s deep voice vibrates beneath my cheek, destroying the serenity of the moment. “I was beginning to think you’d never say it.”

  “I thought you were asleep.”

  “I figured,” he replies with a rumble of laughter building in his chest.

  Leaning up, I prop myself on my elbow and stare down at him. “So you just let me hang there while you pretended to be asleep?”

  “Are you telling me you would have said anything if you thought I’d been awake?” Pressing my lips together, I don’t say anything. “That’s why,” Rebel states with a maddening smirk. “You never would have told me, and you know it.”

  Narrowing my eyes at him, I stare him down for a few long moments. When he shows no sign of wavering in the slightest, I give up, huffing as I drop back onto my own pillow. “You’re a very frustrating person, you know that?”

  “Eh.” The sheets swish as he shrugs.

  “So, I guess the question is...what now?”
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  Turning his head, Rebel gives me a sleepy smile that’s no less intimidating than if it were full-watt. “Right now, we take a nap. Later, we go out on the balcony, break out the rest of those donuts, and show the world that there’re a few more stops along the way before they reach your thighs.”

  My eyes widen as my mind races. “Oh, you’re absolutely diabolical, Mr. Scott.”

  “And you’re absolutely fuckable, Miss Hart.”

  Twenty-Two

  Standing outside my building, Rebel’s car at his back, my arms wrapped around his middle, his hands in my hair, and our mouths melded together in a never ending kiss, I feel like the teenager I never got to be.

  “Are you sure you can’t come with me today? It’s going to be strange driving there alone.” After spending so much time in the backseat of his car, I’ve grown somewhat dependent on the routine. It’s just like when I was a kid. If my friend was absent, I had no desire to be in school that day.

  That’s what it feels like now. Rebel’s skipping the office today. He’s being vague when I ask him why. The only information he’ll allow is a confirmation that it has everything to do with why his mother was at his apartment yesterday. There’s something going on, but he won’t tell me what. I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad thing, but my instincts are firing on all cylinders, and they’re telling me to be wary.

  “I would be there if I could, but I have to take care of this.”

  My forehead creases as my brows pull together. “Take care of what?” I ask suspiciously. “Does this have anything to do with Florence or those pictures? Wait, did you find out if she’s the one who sent them to me?” If anyone could get to the bottom of this, it would be Rebel. With the kind of connections he’s hinted at having, I doubt there’s not much in the world that he couldn’t get access to if he wanted it bad enough.

  Dropping one last kiss on my lips, Rebel sets me away from him and steps down off the curb, his hand grasping the door handle. Pursing his lips, he considers his answer. “Maybe, possibly, and that’s what I’m going to find out.”

  Crossing my arms over my chest, I jut my hip out. “Ha, ha. You’re such a funny man.”

  A slow smirk spreads across his face and those midnight eyes flash devilishly as Rebel opens the door and lifts one foot into the car. “Think of me while I’m gone.”

  Fuck. I can’t resist his charms when he looks at me like that. Sighing, I drop my arms while rolling my eyes. “As if it’s possible not to.”

  Winking, Rebel drops down into the backseat. I stand there a moment longer, waiting, but the car doesn’t move an inch. I intended to watch him go, maybe wallow in self-pity for a little while before heading into my apartment to shower and change for work, but it’s clear he and Gerardo aren’t going anywhere.

  The tinted window slides down. Rebel has his cell phone pressed to his ear, and he’s barking orders at whoever is on the other end of the line. That was fast. I meet his harsh gaze and one dark, expectant eyebrow rises.

  “Right. Sorry. I’m going.” Raising both hands in front of me, I back away a few steps before turning on my heel and heading inside.

  Rebel is very stern that way. He may not walk me to my door like a regular gentleman, but he refuses to leave until he’s seen me safely inside the building. It’s kind of sweet, in Rebel fashion anyway.

  With little less than an hour to get to work on time, I shower quickly and twist my damp hair up into a sleek bun. I go light on the makeup, using a sheer foundation, a little bronzer, and a tinted lip gloss that goes nicely with the simple hairstyle. Borrowing a page from Florence’s handbook, I choose a flirty yet professional three-piece, fitted pantsuit consisting of pale gray pants, a matching vest, and a crisp white button-up blouse with a plunging neckline. It’s a statement piece in itself, so I leave the jewelry at home.

  Driving in my old, battered Toyota is like a trip back through time. I haven’t been behind a wheel since my trip back from Virginia to visit Annie. With work being so close and traffic being a bitch, I’ve been opting for a cab or, more recently, to ride in style courtesy of Rebel. I could do the same today, but I’m feeling particularly withdrawn now that I’ve had time to come down from my high after spending the weekend in Rebel’s bed. Being behind the wheel of my own car, my personal property, feels like returning to some distant part of me that I’ve forgotten.

  The engine sputters to life, reminding me of how long it’s been sitting unattended and ignored. “Relax,” I coo to it as I roll the windows down to clear out the stale air. “Momma’s taking you out to stretch your legs. Just be nice and promise not to break down on me in the middle of the road,” I beg as I put it into drive and pull out onto the street.

  Less than ten minutes later I’m punching the button on the automated machine outside the parking garage and taking my ticket. My underinflated tires squeal with every turn through the garage, calling unwanted attention. I bite down on my bottom lip as I drive past all the Mercedes, BMW, and Bentley owners and take the last turn up the ramp leading to the roof. There are only a few spots left up here and I take the one closest to the door leading back down to the lower levels.

  As I leave my car behind and walk down the enclosed staircase, I make a mental note to continue taking cabs. Clearly my car hates me—I was crossing my fingers I would even make it here, but then to compare my rust bucket with all the flashy, shiny new cars...it might sound shallow, but I’d rather save myself the embarrassment. Besides, the cab fare and the fee I’m going to have to pay at the end of the day for using the garage will more than likely even out. I’m not really losing anything. Rather, I’m preserving my dignity.

  When I reach the lobby on the main level, I hurry across the reflective white and black marble floor and press the call button for the elevator. A familiar face greets me with unwavering, hate-filled eyes as I step into the first one to arrive.

  Great, the last person I want to see first thing in the morning—Jenna. Pasting on a pleasant smile, I tell her, “Good morning.”

  Turning her chin up, she blatantly ignores me, which is fine. I didn’t figure we were friends anyway. I did, however, expect some type of professionalism, especially since we have to work in such close proximity with each other.

  As we ride up to our floor in silence, I wonder to myself if I should apologize for the photographer. I know I’m in the right and that having one come on board was in the best interest of everyone involved, but it’s obvious that she doesn’t see it the same way. And with the way she’s acting now, I doubt she’s in the mood to hear anything that comes out of my mouth anyway. So I decide to save myself the trouble and keep my thoughts and words private.

  Just before we reach our stop, Jenna breaks the silence. “I heard what Miss Townsend said to you the other day after everyone left. Well, almost everyone,” she amends with a self-satisfied smile. Something inside me twists at that look, instinct telling me that whatever she is about to say is going to have a negative impact on me. Maybe others, too.

  “I know what you’ve been doing. I know you’ve been sleeping with Mr. Scott,” she accuses, her back still facing me. “That’s how you got him to agree to the photographer, isn’t it? I knew it was too much of a coincidence for him to come up with the same idea as you without someone tipping him off. So what did you do? Tattle on me while you were busy sucking his dick?”

  My face floods with heat, but not from humiliation, which I’m sure is her goal by telling me all of this. No, all I feel is utter outrage. How dare she stick her nose in where it doesn’t belong, and how dare she try to judge me or anything that I do when she’s the one cutting corners and acting out of pettiness.

  “Well, that’d be kind of difficult, don’t you think?” I say smartly. “I mean, it’s pretty hard to talk with your mouth full.”

  “Spoken like someone who knows firsthand,” she volleys back.

  “Look, Jenna. Just because you’ve grown complacent and don’t want to do your job, doesn’t mean you ha
ve to make mine more difficult. We’re here to provide a service, and I don’t know about you, but I take pride in my work. I know you’re upset about being pulled away from your projects, but you’re not the only one, so why don’t you pull your head out of your ass and just do the best you can do for the client because you’re not the only one with their ass on the line here.”

  “You’re right. I’m sure sleeping with the boss, you have a lot more to lose than me,” she snarls just as the doors open on our floor.

  “If you don’t step up your game and start doing your job, then you’re the only one who’s going to lose something,” I tell her as she walks off.

  Turning, she meets my eyes for the first time and with a smug look on her face, says, “At least I don’t have to sleep my way to the top.” At that, she storms off toward our office.

  If her goal was to ruin me, then she’s achieved it. There are easily a dozen people in the room, including Darren, who’s standing stock still, a look of shock and horror frozen on his face.

  He looks like how I feel.

  I haven’t had this many sets of eyes on me since I was up on stage in my underwear. Then I felt powerful, in control. Now...a crushing numbness is spreading through my limbs, and my chest feels like it’s going to cave in at any second. Normally, my thoughts would be spinning out of control, but right now they’re curiously silent.

  “Come on, sweetie. Let’s go someplace private.” I hear Darren’s voice, feel his warm hands on my shoulders as he steers me away, but I can’t find the words or the strength to form a response.

  I’m ushered into a room with a long wooden table surrounded by chairs that overlooks the cityscape. It’s bright and cheerful—everything I’m not. One of the chairs is pulled out and then the room is changing direction, the city falling in behind me as I’m pushed down until the cool plastic meets the backs of my legs.

  Darren’s concerned face comes into focus as he crouches down in front of me. “You’re white as a sheet and trembling like a leaf,” he says softly and begins rubbing my arms vigorously. “I can’t believe that bitch did that to you in front of everyone.”