by Lynda Chance
Unable to so much as nod her head because his grasp on her chin was so tight, she whispered, "Yes."
At her agreement, he began kissing her again, and within mere seconds, her arousal was at molten levels and she was aching to slide down between his legs once more. With that thought in mind, she broke the kiss and mumbled, "Please, now."
He moved his hands to her hips, and with one fluid motion, she was on her knees and between his thighs again, but this time, without his clothes to separate them. His erection was thick and large, right in front of her face, and she had the confusing feelings of both wanting to touch it and kiss it, and turn around and run from it at the same time.
But he reached down and put his hand on her breast, and began stroking her nipple and all thoughts of running from him fled her mind.
He took matters into his own hands and began instructing her, just as he had said he would. Taking one of her hands, he lifted it and wrapped it around the base of his shaft. "Your mouth's not going to be able to go deep enough, so you want to grip it like this." His voice was even but Jessica looked up and saw that sweat had broken out on his forehead and his eyes had dilated. "Hold it tight, baby. Yeah, like that." His lids dropped over his eyes and his head fell to the back of the couch, as he took deep, roughened breaths. Getting himself under control, he slowly opened his eyes and lifted his head.
She made a tentative move toward him, and his hands fell to her hair and he helped her move toward his straining penis. "Jessica, I'm probably not going to have any control, it's going to be fast, sweetheart. But I'm going to warn you when I'm about to come so you don't choke, okay?"
Her eyes flew wide at that threat.
At the look he must have seen in her eyes, he began to soothe her immediately. "It's okay, baby. I'm going to warn you." He continued the inexorable push toward his erection and then she was upon him. Her lips opened and her hand tightened. She took several small licks, and raised her head to look at him.
"Is that right?" she asked. His fingers pinched her nipple, and the erotic taste of him was already making her want to rock her pelvis.
"God, yes. Open your mouth and take it inside." His body jerked when she did as he asked. "Now move your hand, like this." He put his hand over hers and showed her the strokes, very like the strokes she'd used on him before. "Move your mouth with your hand." His breath hissed out as she attempted to follow his instructions.
He gently twisted her hair in his hands and wrapped his fingers around her skull, moving her with the force he needed. He only let her take six or seven even strokes and then he began tightening under her touch.
Pushing her head down with enough gentle force to keep it there, he hissed out, "I'm about to come." She adjusted the angle she'd been using only slightly, just enough that she wouldn't choke, as he'd told her. She felt his body clench, and he groaned with the force of his release. She tasted his hot, salty essence as he held her tightly to him, and she knew he was in a mindless state of orgasm.
After a few seconds, he allowed her to lift away from him, and she took her mouth from him, and looked around frantically. He handed her an empty Coke can from the side table with the lift of an arrogant eyebrow. She looked at it, looked at him and then just closed her eyes and swallowed. She knew he watched her do it, and she felt his muscles tense as he pulled her up to him, hugging her so tightly she could barely breathe. He kissed the side of her face, and ran his lips to her ear. "Thank you."
She rested her head on his shoulder. "Did I do it right?"
"Not bad."
Hurt, she lifted her head and looked him straight in the eye.
He continued carelessly, "I think after thirty or forty more tries, you might get it right."
It was then that she knew he was teasing her, and content, she smiled at him and dropped her head back down.
His voice was deliciously evil when he whispered in her ear, "And now I get to pay you back."
And he proceeded to do just that.
****
Connor left Jessica dozing on the sofa and slipped outside to the swimming pool. As he gazed at the water where the moonlight reflected, the memory of what she'd so recently done to him inundated his body and deluged his brain cells.
He was a drowning man, sinking under her spell more and more every day. He needed to get a grip. He'd never intended to get this close to her, and for damn sure never intended to care this deeply for her. The things he felt for her . . . he'd never felt anything like this before in his life. Ever.
And the guilt of that remained, but there were times he thought it might be worth it. Times like tonight. She'd given of herself so awesomely, so beautifully, so very fucking exquisitely. He felt as if he was on a precipice, and he didn't want to fall off. There was no doubt he was conflicted, angry at himself for letting this happen, angry for not having the right stuff to fight against it.
He should fight against it, he knew he should. But he couldn't. Not yet. She was too sweet, too soft, too soothing to think about letting her go, regardless of the guilt he felt. But there was no way, absolutely no way, he'd allow himself to become even closer to her. Even now, he needed to find a way to put distance between them.
Surely to God, he'd tire of her soon, if only somewhat. And that's when he'd make the move and let her go, because there was no way in hell he could do it now. No, he wasn't getting tired of her yet, not even a bit. Making the break would be easier later, when he wasn't feeling this crazy obsession about her. When these possessive, territorial feelings had slacked off some, surely to God it would be easier to let her go and get his life back on track.
His lonely, guilt-ridden life.
Chapter Ten
Sunday evening came too soon, and Jessica knew she couldn't put off what she had to tell him any longer. Steeling her nerves, she went to stand in the doorway of his study, where he was busy on the computer.
He was wearing reading glasses, and she'd never known he needed them. Instead of making him more approachable, they made him seem more austere, and her muscles tensed as he looked up when he heard her approach.
Leaning against the doorframe, she ran her eyes over the room, noting the bookshelves and the state of the art computer equipment. When the air got thick around them, she finally let out the breath in her lungs. "I need to go home."
"Home?"
"Back to the apartment," she qualified.
His eyes narrowed and his frown that seemed to be almost permanent, intensified. "Why?"
"I got a job. I start tomorrow."
His mouth flattened even more and his stare became piercing. "A job." The words were monotone.
"Yeah. Full-time for the rest of the summer, and then part-time when school starts."
Very carefully, with exact movements, he laid his pen down on the desk and asked succinctly, "Where?"
She named the large supermarket near the university.
"Why did you do that?"
"Why did I get a job?"
"Yes."
"Because I need the money." Her nerves were shot and she had to concentrate on her words to keep her voice even.
"I don't think you need the money, Jessica."
"Yes, I do."
"I don't give you enough?"
"I don't want you to give me any."
"You want out of our relationship?"
This was deteriorating rapidly. "I didn't say that."
"What are you saying?"
"Nothing. I just need to get back to Richardson so I can go to work tomorrow."
He began to strum his fingers on the desk in a repetitive motion. "It's never been part of our deal for you to have a job."
"I didn't realize it was part of our deal that I couldn't." Oh, but that wasn't quite right, was it? She knew he'd take exception to her working. That was one of the reasons she'd been dreading telling him.
"You expect me to be okay with this?"
"You work . . . I don't see why I can't."
"How are you planning on get
ting there and back without a vehicle? The apartment isn't within walking distance."
Geez. His tone and his questions made her feel like she was in front of the school principal. But then, she knew he would react this way. "I'm going to take the bus."
"Does it stop at the complex?"
A new set of butterflies took off in her stomach when she knew she was going to have to give him an answer he wasn't going to like. "About half a mile away."
His features hardened. "And what are your hours?"
"They're usually going to be nine in the morning until six, with an hour break for lunch."
"Usually?"
Shit. Here came the part where he'd throw a conniption because her time with him would be interrupted . . . and because of the fact that she'd have to walk in the dark. "Monday and Wednesdays I'll work noon 'til nine." She told him that quickly, to get it over with.
"No." The single syllable came quickly, and it was inflexible.
"Connor--" Her thoughts fled as he pushed to his feet and walked around his desk. He came to stand in front of her, and lifted his hands and pushed them in her hair, either side of her face and raised her eyes to his.
"No," he reiterated more softly, his thumbs stroking her cheekbones.
Jessica took a deep breath and focused on the part of the equation that somehow, she knew, wouldn't matter as much to him. "I'll be home by nine-forty-five, tops. And the other nights I'll be home way before you get there, I promise."
His hips pressed into hers, a subtle threat, while his hands and voice stayed gentle but firm, as if he were explaining a simple concept that she just couldn't grasp. "That's not the problem, Jessica. The problem I'm having with this is your lack of transportation. As much as I don't want you walking to and from the bus stop, I realize that it's a relatively safe area and during the daylight, I'm sure you'll be fine. But there's no fucking way in hell you're walking after dark."
She ignored his dictate, and focused on the reason for it. "I've thought about that, and I'm going to get some mace."
"Some mace." He repeated her idea and then rolled his eyes and shook his head as if she had no sense at all. "That's not good enough." His words stopped as if he was deep in thought and then he continued more abruptly, "No, you need to call them in the morning and tell them you won't be able to take the job--"
Angrily, she pushed against him and interrupted him with her ace in the hole. "So you want me to have to do this again after our time together is over?" She motioned with her hand between their bodies, indicating the relationship they were in.
His teeth gritted and he snarled like an animal, "No."
"If I save a lot of money now, I won't ever have to do it again."
His snarl became a low, wounded growl and Jessica knew that he realized he was going to have to let her win. "You get off at nine tomorrow?"
"Yes."
"I'll be waiting for you in the parking lot. You can either accept that I'll pick you up on your late nights, or we can have a blow-up, drag-down fight about it, but I guarantee that it'll be pointless because I'll win. That's the only way this is happening."
Jessica inhaled sharply and tried to settle her nerves. "You do realize that you're not the boss of me, right?"
One large hand slid down from her hair to pinch her chin. "You think not? I think I am, so let's not put it to the test. Be the smart girl I know you are and just nod your head and agree with me."
She glared up at him, but took his advice and nodded her head.
****
Now that Jessica was working, the next few weeks flew by. Although not stimulating, her job wasn't boring. True to his word, Connor picked her up every Monday and Wednesday. The other nights, he came to her apartment at his usual time and she was there waiting for him.
Between her job and Connor, she didn't have much time for anything else and she didn't run into Eric or Travis again. She spoke to Allison a few times, and told her she'd been able to score the job, the scholarship and the apartment, and that she was looking at getting a new roommate next year. Although a bit sad, the other girl was in agreement with that, as long as they stayed friends, as she wanted to stay on campus with her sorority sisters.
Everything was working out well, except for one major glitch. Connor's lovemaking had shifted, and not in a good way. Most of the time he treated her as he had of late. He looked into her eyes, held her tightly and made love to her in the missionary style or sometimes with her on top. Those times were amazing and she thought their relationship was evolving into something more normal, maybe even something permanent.
But sporadically, and for no apparent reason, he would revert back to his old way, and flip her to her stomach, with little care for her pleasure, and stroke his way to orgasm. He never said anything during those episodes, not while it was happening and not after, and Jessica couldn't help but feel hurt.
Sometimes she was so hurt and confused that she wanted to tear her hair out and then roll into a tight little ball and cry her eyes out. And it was that confusion that she put down as the reason that she'd temporarily gone off her rocker and done a bad thing.
A very, very, bad thing.
It happened after one of the wonderful nights, a night when he'd made love to her. Infinite love, slow love. He'd had her so upset the night before with the whole flipping her to her stomach episode, that on this night, she'd been thankful and almost tearful that he'd made love to her again. He'd held her face in his hands, he'd looked into her eyes as he'd slowly pumped into her and just before she crested the sun, she whispered those horrible, sad, three little words. "I love you."
He froze above her, obviously more shocked by the words than she was herself. But then, his nostrils had flared and he'd lost it--coming inside of her with a surge of power that equaled the orgasm she was experiencing.
And she'd thought everything was okay for a moment. But it wasn't, because she'd ruined it. Or maybe he'd ruined it. It didn't really matter, because she couldn't take back the words.
He'd pulled away from her and walked to the bathroom as if he couldn't wait to escape from her.
And then it had only gotten worse. He'd come out fully dressed a few minutes later and stopped by the bed to look down at her. But before he could make a comment, his cell phone rang and he scowled, but answered it.
"Yeah?" As he answered, his eyes landed on Jessica and stayed on her. She felt like a fool lying there, totally humiliated from what she'd told him, totally stupid. As he stared down at her, with what looked to her to be accusing eyes, she wanted to wave a wand and disappear or at least pretend it had never happened. As she listened only half-heartedly to what seemed to be a business conversation, her mind began wandering, trying to blame anyone but herself for the words she'd so foolishly spoken. Maybe if she'd had a decent mother growing up, she'd have known better. Maybe a good mother would have taken the time to explain the birds and the bees and to tell her the salient fact that if a woman respected a man, and if the sexual chemistry was there and he treated her well, that if she let him make love to her over and over and over again, continually dropping her guard and letting him see into her soul, then there was pretty much no question that she would fall in love with him. But she hadn't had a decent mother, and it hadn't occurred to Jessica that she would fall this deep, this fast.
As she continued to lie there, feeling so exposed it was cringeworthy, she slowly began to take in the one side of the conversation she could hear. And when she did, her pain and shame turned to anger so quickly she thought she might combust.
She needed armor for what was about to go down, and with her head spinning, she almost forgot about her ridiculous confession as fury encompassed her. She glanced around and hastily grabbed her shirt and pulled it over her head.
As Connor ended the call and slipped the phone in his pocket, Jessica scrambled off the bed on the opposite side to where he stood. Heart clanging and nerves stretched, she asked, "Who was that?"
He crossed his arms ove
r his chest and gave her his full attention once again. "Tiffany, a woman I contract to do graphic design for the business."
"Did I just hear you agree to take her on some kind of a date?"
His features turned to granite and his voice hardened. "Not a date. She needs an escort to a wedding next weekend."
"A wedding. How old is this woman, exactly?"
"Why do you want to know?"
At his short, glacial question, Jessica lost it entirely. "How the fuck old is she, Connor?"
"This isn't any of your business, Jessica. This has nothing to do with any of the ground rules that you and I have established. You don't get to question me like this."
"I don't, huh?" Rage such as she'd never experienced shot through her veins like fire.
His jaw clenched. "No."
"You can't date anybody else, Connor." Jessica laid it out for him in succinct words that he couldn't fail to understand.
"I'm not going to fuck her, Jessica. She just needs a goddamn escort on Saturday. I'm trying to be nice, like a fucking gentleman."
"You can't be that naive, Connor! Have you looked in a damn mirror lately? Trust me, she doesn't just want an escort. She wants you."
"That's bullshit. She was very explicit. She needs an escort, just this once."
"Like Anthony needs an escort for summer mixer?" Jessica's rage infused her voice with disdain. "You remember Anthony, right? The hot frat boy you very vocally told me that I couldn't go to the water park with?" She threw the 'hot' part in just to antagonize him as her eyes narrowed and her voice hardened even more. "You go with her next weekend, then I'm going with him . . . and it happens to be on Saturday. Isn't that just a lucky coincidence?" Jessica laid the ultimatum down between them, determination in every cell of her body.
He braced his legs apart and a menacing look came over his face, one that Jessica should have heeded, but didn't and she pushed him again, sarcasm lacing her tone. "So you decide what you're going to do, and let me know soon, okay? Because I need to tell Anthony."