I can feel the head of his cock all the way up near my belly button. It would be so easy for him to slide lower, to push his immense shaft between my wet folds and drive himself deep inside me.
I couldn’t stop him.
Instead, he presses the base of his cock, barely, very gently against me. It’s more of a suggestion of movement than movement itself. But it’s enough. The quiet force of his big bulk opens me even more, rubbing against my clit.
Oh god.
He does it again. He’s rubbing me with his thick, rigid shaft. The pleasure is astounding. Sweet warmth blooms where he’s touching me and I can feel my own moisture trickling, wetting his cock so he’s silky and hot against me.
“Say it to me,” he says gruffly, his voice low. “Tell me to get off you and I will. I didn’t mean to … attack you. You shouldn’t fucking sneak up on me like that. I warned you. You didn’t listen.”
Get off me?
No.
My panic has taken a turn. Now, I want him to stay right where he is. I want him to keep doing what he’s doing. Harder. Faster. Deeper.
“Make me come,” I whisper, and it’s the most daring thing I’ve ever said in my life. And that’s not all. I hear the words tumble out of my mouth before I even think them. “Come with me. Come all over me.”
He’s completely still and I can’t read his expression under the dark veil of his hair. I want to. I want to read him and calm him more than I’ve ever wanted anything. I want to give him something. Anything. To ease his pain.
He takes the silky neckline of my skimpy top in his hands and rips it open so my breasts are fully revealed to him.
Oh, god, yes.
I reach to touch his face but he grabs both my wrists and holds them in one of his fists, above my head. The movement causes his cock to press strongly against the center of my universe and I’m almost there. I’m so close I want to cry.
Jake Wolfe is like alpha heroin. He’s male potency in its purest form. I feel like a drug addict who’s tasted my very first dose. Oh, god, I’m so hooked. Already, I’m completely addicted to the way he looks and sounds and smells and feels.
My orgasm is so close I’m almost trembling with it. It’s a sure thing now; it’s happening and I’m on the very edge. I know this peak is going to be higher and harder than anything I’ve ever experienced. I can feel that and I’m almost there. I lift my hips so my slippery pussy is sliding along his massive length, caressing him. He won’t give me the tip. He won’t slide inside me and this is good. I’d have to stop him. I’d have to think and I don’t want to think. I just want to feel.
And god, I’m feeling so goddamn much I start to lose my crazy mind. I’m coming so hard and my body sort of locks up and softens at the same time. It’s pleasure overload, blinding me and exploding from the place where Jake’s thick, hard cock pushes against me. The seismic bliss takes hold, radiating outwards through my entire body in wild, electric circles.
I’m coming so hard my pussy is rippling against his cock and Jake lets go of my wrists. His head sort of falls against my neck so I can feel the softness of his hair and then I feel the hot, spreading wetness jetting all over my stomach. He’s coming too. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt so happy about anything, if you really want to know. This moment is so intensely intimate and beautiful. I can feel his beauty in the warm liquid bond between us and the silky fall of his hair. I can feel it in his soul as he sort of collapses on top of me and lays there without any anger or restraint. For a few seconds, it’s just Jake, without the rage or the hard shield.
It’s just him.
We’ve dozed off and as I wake, the first thought that comes to my mind is that it’s the most peaceful hour of sleep I’ve had in a long time. Maybe ever.
The second thing that comes to mind is that I’m in bed with Zara Ashe. Not just in bed with her but sort of wrapped around her. Half on top of her.
With no clothes on.
She’s got little pink scraps of clothing on that probably couldn’t even be classified as clothing that are damp and sticky from my cum. The top she’s wearing is shredded and her full, bouncy breasts with their soft rosy nipples are pressed up against my chest. Our legs are entwined, and my cock – back to full speed – is pressing against her upper thigh.
She’s still asleep and her face looks sort of young and amazing in the darkness half-lit with the soft-yellow glow of the one lamp that’s still on. Her dark hair, I notice now, has lighter strands at the ends, like summer is still clinging to her there and in the light-gold color of her skin. Her lips are cherry-red, and parted, and there are those soft flags of pink on her cheeks that never seem to entirely fade away.
I check to see if there’s a red mark on her neck, or bruising. There isn’t, thank fuck. Shit. I could’ve fucking killed her. I could’ve hurt her bad if I hadn’t snapped out of my nightmare when I did.
Jesus Christ. Sneaking up on me like that. What the fuck was she trying to do?
I know what she was trying to do. It’s obvious.
Get closer.
They always want to get closer, when what they should be doing is running away.
I have to admit there’s something different about this girl.
If it was any other girl, I’d wake her, fuck her – which she obviously wants or she wouldn’t have snuck into my room half-naked and begged me to make her come – then ask her to leave.
The thing is: I don’t want her to go yet.
The plush warmth of her body under mine is … nice.
‘Nice’ isn’t really a word that’s a big part of my repertoire. ‘Mean’, ‘angry, ‘asshole’, ‘fucking pissed off about life in general’ are closer to home. So when something is ‘nice’ I kind of notice it. And this is.
I should wake her up and ask her to leave. Or I should get up and go out for a while. I haven’t eaten all day and notice now that I’m hungry. I could go into the city, even. Stop in and see my brother since there’s some reason he must’ve called, which I’ll get around to following up at some point. Not right this second, though.
I’m too comfortable.
Too warm.
Too wrapped around Zara Ashe.
Damn.
I’d agreed I’d try not to touch her. I’d already failed twice on that front. First in the bathroom. I shouldn’t have touched her like that. And tasted her. She just looked so fucking ready for it.
And then here, in my bed. That one wasn’t exactly my fault, though. A hot, scantily-clad girl creeps into my room in the dark of night and wakes me from a brutal, bone-chilling nightmare. I’m not proud of what happened next, but that part of it was entirely beyond my control. I lose it when people wake me. And when people touch me. She’s lucky I didn’t fucking strangle her to death.
And when I asked her if she wanted me to get off her? So she could turn around and walk the fuck out? What does she say? Make me come. Come all over me.
Jesus. By that point I was already practically coming. And so was she.
She’s so fucking responsive, this girl. So eager. And not in a pushy, needy sort of way. It’s more of a let’s-have-fun sort of way. Her approach is refreshing to me. Like she’s not trying to take something from me, but instead share something with me. Something fun and wholesome and restorative. Like with Zara, I won’t be reacting to my own darknesses but instead feeding off of something pure, and good. It’s a whole new vibe and I’m feeling it.
It’s almost like I’m enjoying just being with her. Which is crazy. I’m a loner. I don’t, in general, enjoy anyone’s company.
This is something I’ve never done before.
I’ve slept with plenty of women but I’ve never slept with a woman.
I’ve never wanted to before but right now this feels … peaceful. Which is something I don’t often feel. Which is something, in fact, I never feel.
But I feel it now.
Then I do something else I’ve never done before. I mean, I’ve pulled and tugged on women’s ha
ir as I’ve fucked them and made them cry and scream and beg for more.
But I’ve never twirled my finger around a silky end-curl of a lock and left it there as I lay calm and quiet in the night.
I can feel my new obsession digging into my leg.
It might as well be Christmas and here’s my big, hot, throbbing gift. A hundred and eighty pounds of musclebound prime beef stud wrapped naked around me and pressing his oversized hard-as-stone manhood into my thigh.
I’ve been saving myself, yes.
Until now.
I find myself being embraced by an opportunity that is simply begging to be seized. The time has come to change my existential status from inexperienced-virgin to wanton-sex-goddess-who-has-been-thoroughly-fucked-by-said-beefcake.
Jake’s eyes open and he looks ridiculously hot and dangerous, all mussed-up with his stubble and his hair and his dark eyelashes. He’s eying lazily me and I can’t read his thoughts.
“I’m supposed to be staying away from you,” he says.
“Then it’s a good thing you’re a rebel who defies all authority.”
Something that could almost be classified as amusement reaches his eyes but he doesn’t smile. “I’ll use you and leave you. I’m a fucked-up asshole. I spend most of my time having raunchy, meaningless sex with women I don’t know.”
Shit. At least he’s honest. I should climb out of this bed immediately and storm away, offended and repulsed.
I don’t.
It’s some combination of his staunch arrogance and his spectacular beauty – not to mention his gargantuan cock laying hotly against my skin – that summons my quiet reply. “If you can promise me raunchy, I might be able put up with meaningless.”
He eyes me, like some part of him is entertained by my response. But Jake Wolfe is too cool and too jaded to laugh out loud. Just seeing him this relaxed, though, feels like a small triumph. That he might find something comforting about being here in this bed with me makes me … happy.
I’ve never seen Jake smile. I wonder if he does smile. Or laugh. I wonder if I can figure out how to inspire his laughter.
“Not happening,” he says, rolling away from me.
It takes me a second to adjust to his arrogance and his dismissal. And the removal of his big, warm body from the place where I want it: on top of mine.
“’Not happening’?”
He’s refusing me?
“Trust me,” he says. “You don’t want anything to do with me.”
I sit up and I don’t even care that I’m mostly naked and that my ridiculously-skimpy pyjamas are all shredded and wet from his cum, and mine.
The feel of his body made my decision. The sight of his body confirms it. And I’m downright surly when he pulls his jeans on and tucks his raging erection into them. I want to look at it! I want to hold it and suck on it and own it. How dare he take it away like that?
I realize how crazy all these thoughts are but they’re equally intense. It’s like I’m suddenly on a goddamn mission. To claim Jake Wolfe’s cock and get fucked by it.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going anywhere that you’re not, sweetheart. Because if I spend one more second in your company, I’m gonna break some promises and possibly put you in danger of not only compromising whatever virtue you might still value, but also catapulting you from innocent to kinky in zero to sixty.”
What? It takes a second to register but I get what he’s saying. He wants me. He’s having a hard time resisting me.
“Jake,” I say, trying to sound calm. I pat the bed. “Come back. Just for a second.”
“Nope.” He unzips the small bag he unloaded from Alexander’s Jeep earlier – apparently the only luggage he brought to live here for more than a month – fishes out a t-shirt and pulls it over his head.
“But what about what … just happened?” I can’t help asking. I mean, I know we didn’t actually do it, but it’s the closest I’ve ever been to man, physically and … well, sexually, even if wasn’t actual, down-and-dirty, all-the-way sex. It was still something. It was still the most intense thing that’s ever happened to me and I’m not quite ready for it to be done.
“What just happened was fun,” he says. “But it shouldn’t have happened.”
“Fun?”
“Yeah. Fun.”
Yeah, it was fun. And it was so wildly fabulous I’m ready for Round Two.
I shimmy off the bed with whatever dignity I can muster considering the state of my cum-soaked ‘outfit’ and I walk over to him. I’m absolutely not going to be, act or appear desperate. But hell, I’ve already admitted it to myself: I’m an addict. Once you get a taste for the devil, there’s no going back. And I haven’t tasted nearly enough.
He puts on his leather jacket and takes a long drink of wine straight out of the bottle.
“Where are you going?”
“Out.”
I look at my watch. “But it’s almost midnight. And it’s raining.” Actually, the rain seems to have stopped.
“Sometimes I shape-shift into a werewolf at midnight,” he says. “It’s probably best if we don’t risk me being around you when that happens.”
“Ha,” I say, but I’m not laughing. I don’t want him to leave me. I’m not even sure what the hell’s going on here but something about Jake Wolfe’s presence has turned me into a ravenous, deviant slut. “I’ll come with you.”
Jake takes another swig of wine as he looks at me. His beautiful mouth quirks at the corner. “Like that?”
I guess he’s referring to the fact that my breasts are bare and all I’m clad in is a few shreds of damp pink silk. Luckily for me, this is my sister’s bedroom and there’s a big antique wardrobe full of clothes of hers that she couldn’t take to California, since her dorm-room closet is miniscule. I walk over to it and choose a cute low-cut black wrap-around dress that’s mini-skirt length. And some black boots. I let what’s left of my pyjamas fall to the floor, then I put on the dress and pull on the boots.
“Like this,” I say, smiling.
“No,” he says, reaching into his bag and pulling out a set of keys. “I’m not taking you with me.”
“Why not?”
“Because you won’t like where I’m going.”
“How do you know what I like? You don’t even know me.”
But he’s already dismissed the idea. He’s walking towards the door that leads to the balcony. “Goodnight, Zara.”
There’s no way I’m giving up that easily. A quitter doesn’t grind her ass against her forty-year-old professor’s erection to earn herself an A. Or let the badboy she wants to lose her virginity to at the very next available opportunity to strut arrogantly out her door.
“The way I see it,” I say, “you owe me one.”
“Owe you one what?” He pauses at the door, his hand on the doorknob.
“A favor.”
He eyes me in that way that he has: the one that shoots straight to the place where – only an hour or so ago – he was rubbing me with his thick cock and giving me an orgasm so powerful it might have dislodged my sanity. Because I want him to do that again. Now. Only this time, I want him to slide his cock all the way into me until I’m screaming with pleasure.
“I’m the one who made the final decision about you living in my house,” I say. Not bitchily. Not at all. Just making a point. I even have my hand on my hip. I take a swig of wine right out of the bottle like he did. Go figure, that’s the thing that makes him smile for the very first time since I’ve known him. I’m not even sure why it would be funny to him and my brain doesn’t have the capacity to attempt to figure it out because his smile is just about the most dazzling thing I’ve ever seen. It’s barely even a smile at all, just a flash of amusement. He’s leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets looking far cooler than I could ever even hope to. He looks so damn gorgeous I’m sort of stunned by it.
“So you’re going to blackmail me into taking you with me,” he says.
/>
“I wouldn’t call it blackmail,” I say, barely recovering. “More like a friendly invitation of one roomie to another.”
“You won’t like where I’m going,” he says again.
I twirl a strand of my hair around one finger. I’m attempting to sound cool and confident, like nothing will faze me. “Try me.”
Jake just stands there for a few seconds, as though weighing his options and not liking either one. “I’m going to a party. It’s being held at the house of a guy I met in juvie. Filthy rich, bad attitude, will do anything he can think of to piss off his parents. They’re out of town so he’s having a wild party at his house. The theme: sex. There will be copious amounts of alcohol, drugs, toys, whips, you name it. It’s basically an orgy on steroids. Anything goes.”
At first I think he’s joking. An orgy?
I’ve never – obviously – been to an orgy. I’ve never met anyone whose third cousin twice removed even thought about going to an orgy.
“Since you’re an innocent, studious, sheltered sort of a girl, it would probably be best if you gave this one a miss.”
A few days ago, I would have. A few hours ago, I might have. But now, I’m still riding the lingering high of an endorphin rush so extreme, it has not only ignited an addiction but, apparently, changed my entire outlook. “I don’t want to give it a miss,” I say. “I’m coming with you.”
He’s watching me, lazily, like a jungle cat might watch the prey it’s considering playing with before it kills. “And if I say no?”
I’m not going to give some petty reply like then I’ll consider kicking you out of my house or anything like that. I’m afraid if I tell him to move out, he will. And I don’t want that to happen. So I just say, “Don’t say no. Say yes.”
He pauses and I think he might be second-guessing whatever decision he’s made so I’m about to remind him once again about my generosity but then he says, “All right, roomie. You’re going to need a jacket. And don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
It’s a terrible idea, obviously. For at least twelve different reasons. But what the hell? She’s not going to take no for an answer and if I go without her then I’m putting my luxury accommodation in jeopardy, and if I lose that, it’ll piss off my brother to no end. Not that I care that much. He’d get over it.
Taming Jake Wolfe Page 5