by Celia Loren
I gasp as his tongue flicks over my clit. I moan, already so close to an orgasm. He sucks gently on it, then begins to slowly circle it. His fingers pinch my breasts as his tongue moves faster and faster. I spread my knees apart, gasping for air and sweet release. But he stops, moving back up and scooping me up a little farther onto the bed. I open my eyes and gaze into his. We both smile at the same time, happy to not have to break to retrieve a condom now that I'm on birth control.
I tuck one leg behind his back and he positions himself at my opening. I let out a low moan as he slowly thrusts himself inside me, his eyes never leaving mine. Our lips find each other's again as he pulls back out and drives in again. I gasp as he thrusts in harder and faster. I reach around his back and hold on tight as he lets loose, pounding into me.
"Oh, Jack…fuck…" I moan, shuddering with an orgasm. He keeps moving on top of me, allowing me my full release before slowing down. With a twist of my hips, I get him to turn over onto his back. I move my knees astride him without our bodies ever losing contact. I rise up on his shaft as he grins up at me.
I look down over his body, running my hands from his hard abs up over his engorged pecs as I maintain a slow, pulsating rhythm on top of him. My breath catches in my throat at the sight of him, so perfect, so handsome, and all mine.
Suddenly, he sits up, wrapping an arm around my back and sucking one of my breasts into his mouth. I toss my head back and move my legs around his ass. He moves forward, placing his feet on the floor, and then thrusts up into me. A wave of pleasure flows through me and I wrap my arms around his neck. He places one hand behind him on the mattress and drives his hips up again. My clit rubs against his stomach just above the base of his shaft, and my eyes fly open as he slips his other hand around my ass, his fingers pulling my cheeks apart as he circles a finger between them.
The new sensation sends a thrill of shock and need coursing through me. I sink down on top of him hard as he pushes up inside me. Our mouths are open and against each other, gasping for breath. Sweat drips down my forehead as another orgasm builds inside me. The pleasure is almost too much, and I groan and fight against it as it builds and builds. But I can't control it forever, and it breaks over me just as Jack comes inside me with a loud grunt.
I raise myself up on him a few more times, and then let myself relax against him as he moves his arm and sags back onto the bed. I softly kiss his cheek, tasting salt and feeling the tiniest bit of stubble against my lips. He nuzzles his nose into my ear, and I giggle as he blows hot air against me. His teeth close around my lobe and he gently bites down.
"Again?" he whispers.
Chapter Thirty-Two
As dawn breaks, I feel my eyelids growing heavy, but I fight to keep them open. Jack and I have spent all night awake, alternating between talking and making love. I want to know everything about his life from as far back as he can remember so I can feel like I was always there with him, and he with me. I picture myself standing like a voyeur, watching him as frustrated teachers finally get him to try sports to contain his energy, his sadness as the nannies that raised him go off to raise families of their own, and his protectiveness at watching his sister grow up into a young woman.
"We'll tell them eventually, right?" I whisper, resting my head on his shoulder.
"Eventually. When the time is right."
"I don't know if there will ever be a right time. And I don't want you to lose out on endorsements and things like that if people think you're dating your sister."
"But you're not my sister."
"No, I know, I just mean you know how people will twist things on the internet. I don't want people to think badly of you, or for it to affect your career."
"Don't worry about me, OK? We'll figure it out, I promise," he murmurs, placing a kiss on my forehead. I nod, sleep pulling me under.
A sudden sound causes my eyes to fly open. "Did you hear that? It sounded like my mom."
"I heard it, too," Jack concurs, his head lifting off the pillow.
"Bree!" her call comes again from far off in the house.
"Why is she awake?" I gasp, sitting up abruptly. "Oh god, FOX must have aired that video of me after we went to bed." I hear running footsteps coming down the hall as Jack hops out of bed. "Go! Go!" I whisper, waving him toward the bathroom. He ducks in and I pull the sheet up to my chin and flop back onto the pillow, closing my eyes to make it look like I'm sleeping.
"Bree!" my mom gasps as my bedroom door flies open. I flutter my eyes open as though I'm just waking up, but as soon as I catch a glimpse of her expression I let go of the pretense. Her face is streaked with tears and bunched up in hysteria.
"Mom, what is it?" I gasp. I pull the sheet up with me as I go to her. She collapses on her knees just inside my room. I push away the truth that I already know, the one thing that could cause this reaction in her. It just can't be.
"Carter…it's Carter," she finally says between sobs.
"Tell me," I moan.
"Suicide bomber on the base…they don't think he's going to make it."
Tears erupt from my eyes. "When?"
"They won't tell me anything else. It was another man on his team who called."
"Anne? Where are you?" Ray's voice betrays a fear I've never heard him express before.
"Here!" I call back, a strangled cry coming out of my throat. As he appears behind my mom in the hallway, she lurches up and into him. He catches her, pulling her tightly against his chest.
"Get dressed and come downstairs," he says quietly to me. "I'll take care of her."
"Thank you," I whisper, filled with a new gratitude for his presence in our lives. I shut the door as they walk away, feeling hollow. As I turn, I see Jack taking giant steps across the room to reach me. His arms wrap around me and I bury my face in his chest as I sob.
"I don't want him to go. He can't. He can't." Jack's arms tighten, and I think they're the only thing keeping me standing. He lets me cry until I can't anymore, until all I can do is take shattered breaths.
"Come on, I'll help you get dressed," he whispers. I'm glad he doesn't offer platitudes. Anything of the kind would sound hollow and wrong to me right now. He walks to my bureau and pulls out my favorite old t-shirt and pajama pants. I let the sheet drop around me as he holds out the pants for me to step into, then lowers the shirt onto my head. He takes my face in his hands and makes me look up at him. "I have to leave after you go downstairs," he says slowly so that I'll understand. "But I'm going to make an excuse to come by the house in a couple hours so that I can be here, alright? I'm going to be back soon," he repeats.
"You'll be back soon."
"That's right. I love you, Bree. Remember I love you."
I nod, unable to respond. I move numbly to the door and walk down the hallway toward the stairs. I don't know how Jack will sneak out now. My brain is having trouble even forming coherent thoughts.
I take the steps slowly. Halfway down, I look into the living room and can see the backs of my mom and Ray's head. For a second, I think of my dad. I wonder how we'll tell him.
Carter would have been the one to call. Always stepping up to take responsibility, always acting older than his years. Carter. When was the last time we spoke? I can't lose him. I can't.
I force myself to continue down the steps, willing one leg to rise and fall after the other. As I enter the room and round the sofa, I see that Ray is holding a cell phone to his ear and quietly murmuring into it. He hangs up and immediately dials another number as I stare at him in confusion.
"You would be surprised where I have connections," he says grimly. "If there's anything to do, I'm going to do it."
I feel a flicker of hope bloom in my chest as I picture Ray's vast network spreading out across the globe in search of my brother. Carter, we're coming for you.
* * *
A preview of Book Two…
Paris, France. Two and a half months later.
"Ms. Stratton? We're boarding now," the first class loung
e attendant murmurs sweetly above me. Like all the Air France employees, she speaks perfect English.
"Hmph, thanks," I manage to say around the cotton ball feeling in my mouth. I push my sunglasses back up on the bridge of my nose. I'm nursing a wicked hangover and just want to get on the airplane with a sleep mask over my eyes.
I grab my carry-on bag and walk out of the lounge toward the gate, wondering when they started making airports so fucking bright. It's like a lab in here, all glaring white surfaces made specifically to reflect the sun back into my face. I rub my temples with my free hand as I walk up to the short line of first class passengers already gathering with their tickets in hand. I rummage through my bag for mine as raised voices from the airline counter float over.
"I specifically went online early to reserve the emergency exit aisle seat. Specifically, do you understand that word?" a middle-aged American man spits out at the young woman behind the counter.
"Yes, sir," she replies, her voice quavering a bit. "I was just asking if you would be willing to switch to the window because there is an injured American veteran on the flight, and I thought it might help his leg if he could stretch—"
"I just don't understand for the life of me how that became my fucking problem, OK? Maybe you should—"
"Excuse me?" I loudly interrupt him as I walk up behind him to the counter. He turns around to see who would dare do such a thing, and I get a glimpse of his flushed, angry cheeks, and spittle caught in the corners of his mouth. "Are there any first class seats left?" I ask the attendant with a sweet smile.
"Ah, yes—"
"We're in the middle of something!" the man sputters at me. I ignore him.
"Great. This injured veteran you mentioned, I'd like to buy him an upgrade please," I say, whipping my Black card out of my wallet and handing it across the counter.
"Really?" the attendant asks, looking delighted and relieved.
"Really," I say, then turn to the man. "To thank him for his service." The man turns away in a huff, but at least he doesn't make any more of a scene. "There's not any way to pay for a downgrade for his seat, is there?" I ask with a wry smile.
She laughs. "I wish you could, believe me. Alexa Stratton, what a pretty name," she adds with a grin. "Thank you for doing that. I was just warned about giving away too many free upgrades, and I thought maybe another American would help the man. I felt sorry for him…he's got a big cast on and everything. And…" she starts to blush.
"What?" I ask, raising my eyebrows. She nods toward the waiting area. I let my eyes skim over the crowd, looking for what could have caused this reaction in her.
My gaze lands on a tall, broadly-shouldered man with his leg stuck out in cast at an awkward angle. Even with a full beard, his dark eyes and high cheekbones are apparent from thirty feet away.
"So this extra first class seat," I murmur, turning back to the counter with a grin, "any possibility you could make it next to mine?"
Thank you for reading!