Tired of waiting for the right moment, I make the boldest move of my life despite my pounding heart. I shift slightly and plant my lips on his. He lets out a surprised moan as his hands hesitate before finding their way to my waist and pulling me flush against his rock-hard body. His mouth, eager to respond, takes over and controls the tempo. I savor the moment as heat continues to pool below. I want this tonight. I want this with Jax.
My hands fly to his pants as I try to unbutton them.
“Whoa, slow down.” He fends off my hands but continues to pepper me with gentle, openmouthed kisses, along my jaw, along my neck. “Our first time together isn’t going to be in a dusty garden shed. You’re worth way more than that, no matter how badly I want you.”
He shakes his head at my whimper of protest and continues his intimate assault. “Besides, we leave for home tomorrow. I much prefer to spend the next day together.”
His gesture is touching, noble even, but I don’t think I’ll last another week waiting. “But I want to know how it feels to have you inside me instead of having to imagine it when I touch myself.”
“Fuck, you masturbate to the thought of me?” He tips his head back. “No, don’t answer that. I think I’ll come in my pants with that visual.”
“Jax.” His name comes out in a plea. Without the risk of sounding desperate, I throw all dignity aside and go for the final charge. “You have no idea how wet I am for you.”
“Jesus, Dixie.” His low sexy growl fuels my desire. My need. And the next thing I know, I’m lying on my back with him hovering above me. “I’m not fucking you tonight. Not here. Not like this.”
I start to protest, but he places a finger over my mouth.
“I want our first time to be memorable, but I can take care of your problem.” He lowers his lips to mine and slides his fingers across the waistband of my jeans until he finds the metallic button. He breaks the kiss, backing away while my jeans free under his control. The passion in his stare holds me captive as I lift off the bed. “Is that okay?”
“Yeah, please.” My undies drag along with the jeans, and once he clears my hips, a sudden onset of flutters take flight in my stomach. Goose bumps prickle my skin, part from cold, part from nerves. This is the first time Jax has seen me half naked, and I’m not sure if he’ll approve. Before I chicken out and change my mind, his sharp intake of breath eases any self-deprecating thoughts.
“You’re more gorgeous than I imagined.” His gaze darkens as he stares openmouthed at my offering. I watch the rise and fall of his Adam’s apple before those gorgeous eyes meet mine. I start to lift the borrowed sweatshirt off, but Jax’s hand blocks my arm. “It’s too cold. Any shivering will be from my tongue as I lick your sweet pussy.”
He renders me speechless. For some reason, I didn’t realize how he had planned on taking care of my problem. I don’t have time to tell him no one has ever done this to me, because less than a second later, his mouth engulfs mine, tongue pushing inside.
His hand skims across my stomach and sneaks underneath my shirt, crawling, inching upward until meeting my breast. I feel his lips curve into a smile when his thumb brushes across the front hook closure.
“Mmm, I like this.” His voice resonates deep inside me. With a quick flick of his fingers, my bra unsnaps, my breast spilling into the palm of his hand. His thumb skims across my nipple that puckers tighter. “I like it a lot.”
My heart races as throbbing sensations shoot straight between my legs. He breaks away from me and stares deep into my eyes.
“Are you sure you want this?”
“I want more.”
“In time, impatient one. In time.” His weight shifts, and he slips his body in between my legs.
“No one’s ever… I-I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”
“Just relax, Dixie. You don’t have to do anything but enjoy.” He raises my shirt just enough to wrap his lips around my taut nipple. I practically convulse off the bed from the slight nibble he gives before flicking his tongue. The rough texture of his hand skims along my stomach down between my legs.
Hypersensitive to his touch, I break out in goose bumps as he works his fingers between my folds and slips one inside my channel.
“Jesus, you’re wet.”
I know. I answer with a moan because words don’t seem to formulate. Instead, this satisfying fullness from his finger takes over. If his finger alone feels this good, I can’t imagine the sensations his dick will cause.
He brings his lips back to my skin while working his finger back and forth in a teasingly slow motion. I squirm underneath him, my body begging for more. As if he senses my need, his free hand cups my breast, and he rolls my hardened peak between his fingers, giving a slight tug. A sharp twinge of desire bolts through me, and I buck off the bed.
“Jesus, you’re so ready.” He plants soft kisses along my bare skin until he reaches my pelvis. His tongue brushes ever so lightly across the bundle of nerves that have been screaming for his touch.
“Oh, yeah.” I let out another pleasurable moan as his hand abandons my breast, and he scoots lower. He pumps his fingers faster as he reaches around and opens my thighs wider.
“Damn, you look beautiful spread opened for me. I have to fucking taste you.” His tongue replaces his fingers, and I swear the guttural sound he emits brings me closer to the edge.
He runs his tongue up my center and circles around my clit, barely sweeping over before licking his way back to my core. My body writhes beneath him, tension building inside to the point I can’t take anymore.
“Jax, I need—” I gasp out a moan.
“What do you need?” He slips two fingers inside my opening but moves at an excruciatingly slow pace. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want to come.” I let out a breathy sigh. “Please.”
His lips capture my clit and suckle my flesh as he drives his fingers faster, harder. My hands fist the side of the cot as my entire body goes into a state of frenzy. White dots cloud my vision right before pleasurable waves spread through my entire body. I ride my orgasm out under his mouth. He continues to lap up my wetness until the last convulsion works through.
“That was”—I pant, catching my breath—“way better than I imagined.”
He lifts onto his elbows and smiles. “Will that hold you over?”
“Yeah, for now.”
He laughs. “Fair enough.” When he crawls up the bed, I snuggle against his chest. His arms wrap around me, and I revel in the fast pace of his heart. When my breathing evens to normal, I rub my palm against his hard length, and oh, sweet Jesus, he’s huge.
His hand clamps over mine and adds distance. “You better not do that, Dixie.”
“But I want to take care of you. It’s only right.”
“We’ll have time for that when we come back.” He plants a soft kiss on my forehead and traces circles on my skin. “Think about me during break when you’re alone in your bed at night. If you still want me when we come back, I’ll be more than happy to oblige.”
Chapter Eight
JOCELYN
Current Day
“Mommy, take Porg. He can keep you company.” Tristan holds out his stuffed Star Wars animal for me.
“Thank you, sweetie.” I take the toy and hug it close it my chest as I zip up his coat. Five years old and he’s already worried about me. “I’ll keep this close by me until I see you on Sunday, okay?”
“About that—” Carl shifts toward the front door, his voice grating across my nerves. “If I have to cut my weekend short, you won’t mind, will you?”
I bristle. Him finagling out of his turn with the kids isn’t anything surprising. He’s constantly cutting their visit short. Usually it’s not a biggie, I can deal, but I may actually be busy this time.
“I’ll be gone all day Saturday. And possibly into the night.”
“What do you mean gone?”
I ignore his question and push through the door, carrying Melanie. After the ki
ds are secured in their car seats, I drop the bomb. “You may as well get used to having them the entire time during your visitation. I start my new job on Monday, and I’ll be working the weekends you have the kids.”
It’s a sweet deal, really. Mr. Kessler will work around my kids’ schedule. The only child I need a sitter for is Melanie, and Ms. Neely has already agreed to watch her.
I shut the car door and revel in the little tic his jaw muscle does. It’s not that I enjoy getting Carl riled up, but he can take care of his kids for two days. It won’t hurt him to play the role of a parent for fuck’s sake.
“I shell out enough money each month; you shouldn’t have to work.”
“No, Carl. You don’t. I’m falling behind on the bills.” Un-fucking-believable. He’s still trying to control me even after our divorce. “Besides, you don’t get a say. Remember this is what you wanted, honey.” I pour as much venom into the sentiment as possible but force a smile on my face. I’m sure I look every bit as crazed as I feel, but the last thing I want is the kids to witness us fighting all the time. Trenna is having a hard enough time understanding, and I don’t want to make things worse for her.
“You asked for the divorce.”
“You don’t think you’re at fault?” I ask through clenched teeth and a tight smile. “You set the plan in motion when you dipped your wick in someone else. Don’t for one second blame any of this on me.”
“That’s not what I meant.” He glances toward the car and shakes his head. “Forget it.”
He’s heavy footed as he stalks to the driver’s door, but I ignore him and turn to wave at the kids. The fact he’ll be forced to spend the entire weekend with them is the real reason he’s upset. He’s not fooling me. Twins and a toddler are a handful, but they’re our handful, and he needs to learn to deal.
Back inside the house, I pour myself a glass of Chardonnay and start placing the ingredients out for the biskvitena. I never thought I’d turn into the person who drinks alone, but since I don’t drink when it’s just me and the kids, I’d never drink if I wait for company. Ever since Lacey moved away, my social life took a nosedive.
I take a sip and then measure two cups of mascarpone cheese along with the whipping cream and powdered sugar. Baking has always calmed my nerves. Mix in the alcohol, and I’m as relaxed as a sun worshipper on a lazy Saturday afternoon watching the waves roll in. One glass later, the mixture is whipped into a fluffy cream, and my blood pressure evens out. That is, until my cell pings with a text notification. I swear to God, if that’s Carl, I’m going to lose my shit. But it’s not. And the smile that crosses my face is unavoidable.
Jax: Is the job yours?
Me: Yes! Cross “get a job” from the list. :) I think the guy took pity on me. You know, raccoon eyes and all.
Jax: Yeah, but you’re the sexiest raccoon I’ve ever seen.
Me: Is this a sad attempt to flirt, Mr. Hottest Baseballer?
Jax: Ha-ha. It depends.
Me: On what?
Jax: If it’s working.
I stare at his words. Is it working? I don’t really know. I’m a little tipsy and a whole lot lonely—a dangerous combination when talking to a guy I always have a hard time staying away from.
Me: If you keep this up, I’ll never get your dessert made.
The phone rings.
“Yes.”
“As much as I would love to crash your plans, I do want to surprise Nana.”
Placing his grandma in front of his own desires is rather noble. I’d say I’m surprised, but he always did place others before his own needs. Why I never saw that back then, I’ll never know.
“The cream is whipped, and I’m working on the cookie part next.”
“You sure you don’t need help? All the whipping going on sounds rather interesting.”
His voice warms my insides, and the yes is on my tongue, but I can’t go down that road. Not again.
“I think tonight is a solo job.” I take a sip of wine, shaking my head at what I just implied.
His protested groan sends chills through me, making me want to cave. I try hard not to react. “All right. I’ll be there tomorrow at ten to pick you up.”
“I don’t understand why you need me to go with you.” I should back out. That’d be the smart thing to do. But if I did, I’d be opening the door for Carl to take advantage of me. I can’t lie and say I’m not home when it comes to my kids. And the asshole needs to be a father.
“I think Nana would enjoy meeting the person behind making the dessert. She’d enjoy meeting you.”
My eyebrows narrow at his suggestion, and I wonder if he’s placing more meaning behind the encounter than I intend. I shake off my uneasiness and eye the ingredients sprawled across my counter.
“Well, there won’t be a dessert to bring if I don’t get busy. The cookies take time to bake and cool before I can layer the dessert.”
“Mmm, fine. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Sounds good.”
“Hey, Jocelyn…”
“Yeah?”
“Think of me tonight when you’re in bed with your solo performance. Lord knows, I’ll be thinking about you.”
He disconnects the call before I can answer. Thoughts of our first time having sex weighs heavily on my mind. It definitely left one hell of a lasting impression.
JOCELYN
December, Ten Years Prior
Studying with a boyfriend is damn near impossible. Especially when all that goes through my mind is having his body next to me. But he’s not. He’s five feet away, sitting at his desk on a Friday night, working on calculus.
When he mentioned studying in his dorm, I thought it was code for sex. I couldn’t be more wrong. Two hours later, the only thing being touched is the graphing calculator. Lucky calculator.
Beyond the point of boredom, I flip to my stomach. The futon, in the laid-out position, has plenty of space, but I scoot to the top edge to be nearer Jax. I wiggle my shirt underneath just enough for the V-cut to spill open and reveal the tip of my black lace bra. Yes, I’ve resorted to pimping my girls for attention. “I can’t wait for these finals to be over with.”
“You and me both.” Jax lifts his head from the cradle of his hand and turns to face me. When his gaze dips to my chest, a hint of desire flickers to life, and I think my seduction attempt works. But then he shuts down and buries his head back in the book. “We don’t have long to go.”
I bite back a sigh. Ever since Thanksgiving break, Jax hasn’t quite been himself. It’s hard to pinpoint why because he’s been attentive to my needs and still greets me with a warm kiss. But his behavior seems off, not as flirtatious. It’s like we regressed to the awkward first dating stage. Having no alone time hasn’t helped. Then with the added pressure of finals, it’s understandable why he’s acting differently.
Leafing through the pages of my book is useless. I can’t concentrate. His woody scent surrounds me—on the blanket I’m lying upon, on the pillow beneath my head. It’s consuming and further messes with my mind. I sneak a peek at him sitting in his chair. The short sleeves stretch across his large biceps, and when he flexes, oh my God. I want them wrapped around me, not propping up his head. Maybe I’m pushing too hard. Like he feels pressured or something. My expectations are high for his performance, but that makes no sense. What guy gets anxious about sex? Hell, his tongue’s performance before break leaves no doubt about his abilities. Jax’s confidence competes with the best of them. It has to be the pressure of finals.
Another half hour ticks by before Jax stirs. I pull my eyes away from my book and meet his gaze head-on. His stare is intense. Troubled almost.
“What?” I ask.
“I really like spending time with you.”
I laugh, but his serious expression sobers me fast. “That’s good since we’ve been spending the entire semester together.”
He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t even smile, which is totally out of character for him. In the few months of
being with him, the one thing that’s been constant is his warm personality. I knit my eyebrows together as I study him.
“Did something happen over break?”
“No, why?” His answer is fast. Too fast.
“I don’t know. You seem a little off.”
“It’s this calculus. It’s kicking my ass. I have to maintain my GPA to keep eligible. That’s all.”
“Oh, you never expressed concern over grades before.” I swivel my feet until they hang off the edge of the futon. “Are you in trouble?”
“I’m okay, but I do need to nail this final.”
“If it’s easier for you, I can leave.” I can’t speak for him, but I’m not getting much accomplished.
He places his pencil down and closes his book. My heart begins to race in anticipation when he swivels the chair to face me, and his legs stretch before him. The light gray athletic pants stretch taut across his pelvis, highlighting his bulge. Oh, sweet Jesus, the bulge that outlines his huge cock. The one I had felt before break. The one I fantasized about in my bedroom back home.
My entire insides alight with fire and spark with need. Maybe it’s from all the fantasies over break. Or from the built-up anticipation of him telling me he’ll take care of my problem. I don’t know, but right now, with the way he’s staring at me, I want nothing more than to feel his cock. Since he won’t seem to make a move, I’ll take it any way I can.
I lift off the futon and close the short distance between us. Lust fills his sharp eyes, and they lock on me, watching my every move. When I drop to my knees in front of him, his mouth falls open.
“You don’t have to do that.” His hands cup around my face, and I offer a lopsided grin. His words may say no, but the burning in his eyes screams a different tune.
I run my palm along his hardened length and fight off the shiver threatening to convulse through me. I lower my voice. “You have no idea how much I thought of you during break.”
“Damn, Dixie.” He wraps a lock of my hair around his finger and places it behind my ear as a pained expression crosses his face. “I spent all break thinking about you.”
Swing For The Fences (Bad Boys Redemption Book 2) Page 8