by W Winters
Nothing new. Time is stagnant and I can’t hold on much longer. I can’t rely on someone who isn’t coming through.
I made it down the long winding path around the massive estate and parked in the back where Jase told me to; I made it all that way without breathing.
Maybe that’s why I feel faint as I shut my car door, the thud echoing in the depths of the thick forest I stared into only days ago. The dark greens are covered by a slight dusting of white as the snow falls gently, creeping into the crevices of everything.
Pulling my scarf a bit tighter, I take the steps one by one to the front door.
Answers. I will get answers. Even if it’s only one question at a time. He has to know something.
The bite from the wind creeps up quickly as I raise my fist to knock on the door, only to hear a beep and a click before I even touch it. Someone else grants me entry. He already knows I’m here.
Warily, I push the large, carved wooden door open, and it glides easily with the softest of pushes.
Thump. My heart slams as I remember the last time I gazed at this wood, but the engravings were upside down as I dangled from Jase’s shoulder.
It’s only been days, but it feels like everything’s changed.
The massive foyer greets me with warmth, but not much else. The lighting of the wrought iron chandelier reflects on the shiny marble floor, radiating wealth with the spiral staircase, but that’s all this room contains. It’s empty and even in the warmth, even coming in from the blustery weather, it’s cold in here.
Click.
The door shuts behind me, and the small sound startles me. My quick gasp echoes in the room.
Clenching my fists, I inwardly scold myself. Pull it together.
He’s only a man. A man with answers. A man who will bring me justice. Justice Jenny deserves.
A man who is not here. I have no idea where he is. But I’m alone in the foyer.
My lips purse as I breathe out, letting my heavy bag drop to the floor. It’s topped with the weighted blanket Jase left.
My gaze moves from window to window, to the heavy front door.
I can’t help but to test Jase’s statement. That the doors are locked on the inside and there’s no way out. Something about Jase makes me feel like he wouldn’t lie. Like he doesn’t make threats, only promises of what’s to come.
I think it’s the severity of his presence. The confidence in his banter. Everything is always just so with him. It’s how he wants it to be, and everything is exactly that. How he wants.
It’s the impression he gives me and that impression is why I pull off my gloves and shove them in my coat pocket. Gripping the knob with both hands, I turn and pull. I yank it harder when it doesn’t give, feeling the stretch in my arms from tugging on an unmoving door.
Huffing the stray hair out of my face, I glance up at a small black square, smaller than the size of a sheet of notebook paper. It’s digital. Whatever lock he uses, it’s digital.
“Fingerprints and hand scans,” Jase’s voice bellows from the empty hall behind me, forcing me to whip around to face him, my hand on my chest. “That sort of thing,” he adds, slipping his hands into his pockets.
“Jesus fuck,” I gasp with contempt. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
My heart thumps a yes, my core clenches with affirmation and my gaze drifts down his body, agreeing with the two of them.
He’s not wearing a suit today. And he looks damn good in his perfectly fitted suits. In jeans and a t-shirt stretched tight across his shoulders, showing off those corded muscles in his arms… he’s doing that shit on purpose.
Swallowing down my heart, I try to relax again. “Just testing what you said…” My explanation dies in the air as he stalks closer to me with powerful strides and in a dominating way that almost has me stepping back, bumping my ass into the door. Almost, but I hold my ground.
“Well then, I’m relieved you weren’t leaving already,” he comments, the words spoken lowly as he stops right in front of me.
The air between us crackles like a roaring fire.
How does he do this to me?
“I like it better when you’re an asshole,” I speak without thinking. I’m rewarded with a charming smile, and a deep rough chuckle.
“I’ll remember that, cailín tine.” Holding out his hand, he commands me, “Come.”
As I reach for my purse, Jase leans down, grabbing the handle before I can. His blanket is in plain sight on top and before I can speak, he comments, “You could have kept it with you; it may help you sleep.”
One step in front of the other I follow him, with only the sounds of our footsteps keeping us company while I try not to think too much about what he said and why.
He doesn’t care about my sleep.
He doesn’t care about how I’m feeling.
He wants to get his dick wet. He wants to tie me up and do with me what he wishes.
All of this is simply to keep me amenable.
Jase Cross may have the upper hand, but I’m doing this for me.
The echoes of my footsteps get louder in the narrow corridor as I think, I’m doing this for Jenny.
One step, one beat of my heart, one tick of the clock.
I have my questions lined up in a pretty row. Without warning, Jase halts and unlocks a door, but how? I don’t know. It simply clicks the moment he stops in front of it and with a flick of the handle, it opens.
I’ve never seen wealth like this before. And I imagine it shows in my expression, judging by the smug look on Jase’s face when he opens the door wider and says, “After you.”
“Where would you like me?” I ask him the moment he opens the door and I step in before taking a look. “Oh,” I murmur, and the word leaves my lips without my conscious consent.
The click of the door closing behind me is followed by a dull thud of a lock, some sort of lock, moving into place.
My belly flips in a way I don’t understand. Almost like when you’re driving down a hill too fast, or on a roller coaster. The anticipation of the fall, the sudden drop of reality making your stomach somersault.
As I spot the table in the middle of the room, that’s exactly what I feel. Followed by the same exact cold prickling I remember so well from three nights ago traveling along my skin.
“What do you think?” Jase asks me, and at the same time he reaches up to my shoulders to take my coat. I anticipate the feel of his fingers trailing along my skin as he does, but he’s careful not to touch me. I think he does it on purpose.
I think he does more things with intent than I first realized.
“It’s not at all like your foyer,” I comment and then drag my eyes back to the wooden bench in the middle of the room. It’s at odds with the large plush carpet that takes up most of the space. I have to look out further to the edge to note that under it is a barn wood floor, or something like it. A darker wood, with wide planks. The cream rug is the brightest thing in here, and thank goodness it’s large. Even with the three chandeliers at varying heights with a mix of iron and wood, the room has a soft, airy feeling. Dim and romantic even.
As my coat falls off my shoulders, I take a half step forward and touch the wall. It’s a thick wallpaper in a damask cream, but it’s darkened by the blood-red pattern within it.
Besides the bench and a matching dresser, there’s a whiskey-colored leather chaise lounge and a white crystal fireplace that would certainly be the focus, if not for the wooden bench dead smack in the center of it all.
With the flick of a switch from behind me, I hear the gas turn on and the fireplace roars to life. Jase’s hand is still on the switch when I peek behind my shoulder.
I dare to step forward and touch the edge of the wooden bench, noting it’s lined with padding upholstered in a soft black leather.
“It’s beautiful. It’s primitive and raw. Elegant, yet seductive in a way that borders on decadence.”
He doesn’t respond to my comment, although his ey
es never leave me as I walk around the table. “The wood won’t catch on fire?” I ask him, remembering how the flames felt like they consumed everything. I’ve never felt so alive.
“It’s for fucking, not fire play.” Jase’s words come with authority and a heat that could match that raging from the fireplace behind me.
My lungs still as I’m pinned by his gaze. “Is that what you think you’ll be doing today?”
Thump, thump, thump. The pace picks up.
“I think you’d enjoy it and my temperament hasn’t been… appropriate. I’d appreciate a good fuck.”
“I can say no,” I remind him, feeling the warring need to give in, to have it all, and to keep my head on straight.
“You could.” His dismissive nature would piss me off if it weren’t for the way he looks at me. Like he can see right through me, but he doesn’t want to. He wants to see me.
“I don’t fuck every man I find attractive. Even if I’m willing to admit,” I pause a moment, wondering if I should say it out loud. It brings the truth to life when you speak it, but he already knows. This cocky bastard is well aware of what’s between us. “Even if I’m willing to admit there’s chemistry between us and I like what you do to me. If it weren’t for the fact that I have questions and a debt you’re holding over my head… I wouldn’t give you the time of day.”
The heat sizzles between us, although the nerves rack through my body. He intimidates me. Maybe it’s something I hadn’t admitted to myself before, but in this moment, as he stares down at me, making me wait for a response, I’m so sincerely aware of how much he intimidates me.
“Business then?” Jase asks with an arched brow; his expression doesn’t hold a hint of emotion, or amusement. He’s a man in control and nothing more.
Standing toe to toe with him, I swallow as I nod. “It’s business.”
“I have the first question, you have the next.” He speaks as he turns his back to me and strides to the dresser, laying my coat over the top of it. He stands there a second too long. The silence is only broken by the pop of the fire to the left of him. The bright light sends shadows down the side of him, and when he turns around those shadows make his jawline seem sharper, his eyes darker and every inch of his exposed skin looks taut and powerful.
He exudes raw masculinity.
“Strip.” He gives the command and whatever hint of defiance had come over me flees in an instant.
I have to lean down to unzip my leather boots, then slip them off. I’m ashamed to say I put more effort into this outfit than a woman with self-respect would. The dark denim skinny jeans take a little more effort to shimmy out of, and all the while Jase stands there with his muscular arms crossed in front of him as he leans against the dresser, watching in silence.
I can’t even look at him as I second-guess everything in this moment.
I’m not a whore, but that’s exactly what I feel like. I can’t pretend it’s anything else.
When I’m left in nothing but my silk undershirt and lace bra, both covered by an oversized, cream cashmere sweater, Jase’s steps destroy the distance between us. It only takes three steps until he’s in front of me, his hands at the hem of my sweater. I’m quicker than he is, my hands wrapping around his powerful wrists. My arms are locked and my nails nearly dig into his flesh as I glare into his prying gaze.
“I can do it myself,” I say, pushing the words through clenched teeth.
“I’m paying very well for this time with you. I intend to enjoy every minute. If you’d like for it to stop, you know how to tell me just that.”
There’s no reason I should feel a sudden stab of emotions up my throat, drying it and tightening it. Or the hollowness that grows in my chest.
“It’s just business, isn’t it?” he questions and with another thump of my treacherous heart, I release his wrists, waiting for him to undress me like he wishes.
Whore. Whore is the first word that comes to mind, and how I made it this long without feeling like one is beyond me.
“May I ask a question then? I know you have yours first, but I’d like to ask one, if you’ll … allow it.” I keep my tone professional as I can, holding back the desire to smack my hand across his arrogant, handsome face.
Jase doesn’t touch my sweater. Instead he walks around me to stand behind me, leaving only the fire for me to look at. His voice hums a “mm-hmm” behind me. His chest is so close to my back, I can feel the vibrations of it, even if he’s not touching me.
“Are you looking in to who did that to my sister? If she owed anyone anything?” My words waver in the air and I wish I could hold them steady. I wish I could sound as strong as I feel on my best of days. Not in this moment, not when I’m acutely aware that I’m whoring myself out to this arrogant bastard who could be using me, lying to me and toying with me just for his own sick pleasure. All so I can chase the ghost of whoever hurt my sister. Whoever took her from me.
“I already told you I was.” His answer is clear and lacks the arrogance and dismissiveness he’s given me so far today. I don’t have to ask him to expand on his answer, since he does that himself. “Her death has caused ripple effects. When I have a name and a reason, you will too.”
I can’t help that I flinch when he lays a hand on my shoulder. I can’t control the way I feel, and I struggle to hide that from him.
I’m so alone. In a room with this man I’ve been thinking about for days, I feel so fucking alone. Maybe I made the memory of that night more than what was actually there.
I stare at the flames lingering among the pure white crystals. I let them mesmerize me and tell myself I don’t have to go through with this. I don’t have to rely on Jase Cross.
But the alternative crushes me; I can’t risk never knowing what happened and having to say goodbye without giving her justice.
His left hand finds my hip and he rubs soothing circles there over the sweater. Which only makes me hate him more until he lowers his lips to my ear and whispers, “Does it make a difference to you… if I admit I feel that chemistry too? That I have a desire to be near you?”
With a gentle kiss on my neck, that hard wall around me cracks and crumbles.
“It’s no longer only business for me, cailín tine.”
His words are a soothing balm. One I didn’t realize I needed. My hand covers his, and I lean back into his chest, where he holds me. This man holds me because he wants to do just that. And I lean into him, because I want to do just that.
“I like it when you touch me,” I whisper into the room, hoping it will keep my secret.
“And I like touching you,” he says softly and runs the tip of his nose down the back of my neck, causing my eyes to close, my head to loll to the side and the pain to drift away slowly.
I don’t want to be alone. I almost speak the realization aloud.
“I promise you, I will find out who hurt her.” His words cause my eyes to open and when they do, I stare at the fire as Jase pulls my sweater over my head. It falls to the floor and then he whispers against the shell of my ear, “I will make them pay for what they did. And you will know every detail.”
Jase
When she turns in my arms, I don’t expect her to devour me with a kiss full of need and hunger. She can only hold up the hate routine for so long before her arms get weak and tired, and her body gives in to what it needs.
Pressing her lips to mine and spearing her fingers through my hair, she pulls me lower to her, standing on her tiptoes and holding her body against mine.
My tongue dives into her hot mouth, feeling the heat and need and lust she has to offer.
Her head falls back so she can breathe, deep and chaotically. I don’t need air. I need to devour her.
With my arms wrapped around her and my lips traveling down her neck, down her bare shoulder, I take in every inch of her. Inhaling her sweet scent, memorizing the alluring sounds she lets slip from her lips. Dragging my teeth back up her neck, I hear her hiss my name, “Jase.”
“Make me forget,” she whimpers against my lips before I can ravage her.
Make me forget.
I don’t speak the only response I can give her. I will, if you do the same for me.
Slamming my lips against hers, I grab her ass and lift her into my arms. Her legs straddle my waist as I carry her to the table.
Her hips need to be nestled against the padding, and the strap is meant to keep her in place. But I have no time for any of it. The urgency of our heated kiss fuels a primitive side of me with the need to have her under me as soon as possible.
With her heels digging into my ass, spurring me on, I groan in the hot air between us, “I need to be inside of you.”
Her lips part, and I can almost hear her say the words. I know what she’s going to say before she says it, I need you too.
But her gaze lingers, time pauses and the truth is lost in a haze of want and need.
Instead she kisses me, long and deep. Massaging my tongue and taking everything she wants with our kiss.
With her ass supported by the bench, I unbutton and unzip my jeans, letting them fall as I stroke my cock.
“I need you,” she whispers into my mouth and then kisses me reverently again.
She’s already wet, but so tight. Pushing two fingers inside of her, I stretch her until she can take three. “Your cunt was made for me to fuck,” I tell her as I drag my knuckles against her front wall.
Her grip on the edge of the table nearly slips as her pussy spasms around my fingers.
I don’t stop fucking her until her release is passed and her chest heaves for air and her face is flushed.
“Flip over,” I command her but it’s unneeded. I take the task on myself, gripping her hips and butting them against the bench.
Moving the head of my cock to her core, I press against her gently, not pushing in just yet.
A deep groan leaves me as I bend over her, my chest against her back. “You feel so fucking good,” I whisper against her and just as she lifts her head to respond, I slam myself inside of her. Every inch of me in one swift stroke.