Текст книги "Jesse"

Автор книги: Jo Raven

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Chapter Sixteen

Jesse

My nerves are shot. What the fuck was I thinking, making it sound like we have something? Talking of girlfriends and shit. Why, just because we slept together? That means nothing. I don’t have to promise anything. Hell, I can’t promise anything. I have nothing to give. I have no roots and no scruples. I’m a bastard orphan slut. Can it get any worse than this?

I stride into her bedroom and grab my T-shirt, dragging over my head angrily. Who am I bullshitting? Just sex. It wasn’t. Not for me. I know it in every fiber of my being. It was amazing. Mind-blowing. Unforgettable.

Like she is, and the way I need her is scaring the holy fucking shit out of me. For so long I convinced myself I don’t need anybody. After I lost Helen, I had to, or I’d have gone round the bend.

Never needed anyone until now. Lying with her in my arms, holding her, kissing her, planning to go to a fucking wedding reception with her…

Dammit, even now my heart booms at the thought and a grin spreads over my face. She makes me feel… warm inside. Good. Whole.

Happy.

And damn, I like the fact she doesn’t want me to be with other girls. Like she wants me for herself.

I want to make her mine. But I’ve never been anyone’s and never had anyone. How does that work?

Zane. I’ll ask him.

My decision taken, I relax and sit on the bed to pull on my socks and boots, taking in her room from this angle. She has more of her jewelry lining her walls, bracelets and pendants made of beads and wire. A photo of herself with two older people catches my eye. Takes me a moment to realize they have to be her parents.

Duh, J. This is what’s normal, not you. You’re the odd one out, with no family.

Rubbing a hand over my face, wondering why Amber would even think of hooking up with me, let alone be my girlfriend, I take one last look around and head out to say goodbye.

Voices drift over from the open kitchen door and I stall. One is Amber, and the other must be Kayla.

“I can see why you like him,” Kayla is saying. “I get it. I mean, that face, that chest, and ass-cheeks you can crack nuts between—what’s there not to like?”

The fuck?

“That’s not why I like him,” Amber says so quietly I can barely make out the words.

Hell. I’m not sure whether to be glad or worried. Nervously I tug on my leather band, then reach up to rub the demon on my chest. She doesn’t like the way I look?

“Girl, you’re your own woman. You do what you like with Mr. ManCandy. But don’t come crying to me afterward, okay? Ev told you about him. He chases after everything with a vagina. Don’t let him hurt you.”

I wince, although I deserve that. Weird how I hate that Amber is hearing it. As if she didn’t know… Yeah, right, J.

Still, I step out of the bedroom, determined to stop this conversation. Not sure I want to hear what else Kayla has to say about me.

“It’s not what you think,” I hear Amber say before I take a second step. “We’re not together or anything. It was a one-night stand. It means nothing.”

My heart hammers in my chest. Bitterness rises in my throat. This is stupid, this crushing disappointment at her words. But I asked her for a chance, didn’t I? I thought I did. I thought she’d give me some time.

Guess I thought wrong.

***

“Sit down, fucker,” Zane says, pulling off his rubber gloves and nodding at Tyler, who’s waiting at the cubicle door. “Be back in a sec.”

I do as told, sitting on the stool. My head is pounding and I rub at my temples, trying to ease the discomfort. My pulse thunders in my ears, way too fast. Hasn’t slowed down since I left her apartment.

I thought if I slept with her I’d lose interest. Instead, she’s the one pushing me away. This hasn’t happened to me before. Everything’s different with this girl. I thought she wanted to be with me.

The thought of losing my chance with her burns a hole in my chest.

Maybe… maybe that’s why she asked me about being friends. Maybe that’s what she wants, unless it was a pretext to kick me out.

I hop off the stool, full of restless energy and pace back and forth.

You’re a good lay, J. Worth every penny. Now get out. You’re not good enough for anything more.

Shut up, shut up. I clap my hands over my ears. Funny how I thought those wounds had scabbed over, healed.

It shouldn’t hurt this bad. You’d think after spending my whole life being kicked around, thrown out on my ass and called names, carted from group home to group home, that I’d have a thicker skin.

But it does hurt. Because she’s not just any girl. Because… Because she means something to me.

Just stop feeling, I tell myself. Just stop. When will you learn that nobody wants you to stay?

“J. You okay, man?”

I whirl around, transported for a moment back to a back alley, looking for any weapon to protect myself with.

Tyler gives me a narrow-eyed look, leaning against the cubicle entrance, arms folded over his chest. His dark hair is cut short and looks wet.

“Zane wanted to talk to me. Where is he?” Need my smokes. I pat my pockets. Dammit, I don’t have them with me, probably dropped them at Amber’s apartment. Or during the fight with my roommates. Fuck.

“Calm down, buddy.” Tyler doesn’t move, which is a good thing, because if he as much as crowds me in right now I’ll punch his lights out. “Z-man’s on the phone, he’ll be back in a minute. Now why don’t you tell me what’s gotten your boxers in a twist?”

The scars on my arm itch and ache, and I back away a step.

Tyler’s older than the rest of us by a couple of years. He’s also the tallest of the group, and trying to calm down, like he suggested, is harder with him than with the others. He reminds me too much of the man in the alley—just like Gage, my roommate, does. Not their fault.

But dammit, I still have nightmares about it.

“J. Hey.” Tyler nods at someone outside the cubicle, then turns back to me. “Spill. What’s up?”

“Nothing’s up.” I drop back on the stool, throw my baseball cap on the counter and fold my arms over my chest, too, mirroring his stance. “Don’t you have customers waiting?”

Tyler mans the reception desk of the shop. Not many people wander inside in the mornings, but hey.

“Nice try.” He tsks. “I’m waiting.”

“Fuck off, Tyler.”

“If you can’t tell your friends, who’re you gonna tell your troubles to?”

“I don’t have friends.” I huff. “I don’t do people. And people don’t do me.”

“Bullshit.” He gives a lazy grin, like a lion who just ate the gazelle. “Maybe your definitions need some dusting. Newsflash, J: we are friends. You and me. You and Zane. You and Seth. You and Micah. Everyone here is your friend. We’d do anything for you, and deep inside, you fucking know it.”

I chew on the inside of my cheek, mulling this over.

“Now normally you don’t look like you’re about to smash Zane’s workspace to bits, which is why I’m asking you what happened. Tell me, and maybe I can help you fix it.”

“Fix it. Don’t know if anyone can fix it. Fix me.”

“You?” Tyler frowns. “Nothing’s wrong with you.”

“Everything’s wrong with me. I don’t…” I clasp my hands behind my head and squeeze. “I don’t know anything. When I think I understand how a relationship works, it turns out I understand jack. And girls… I don’t get them.”

“Man, and who does?” He rolls his eyes and sighs, and it’d be damn funny if I wasn’t smarting. Which is stupid, and I should stop.

Thing is, I’ve been telling myself this ever since I met her—stop feeling, stop wanting, stop hoping—and it’s not working.

“This is about Amber, isn’t it?” Tyler asks, and I nod.

No point in denying it.

“Serious?” He’s eyeing me carefully, and I have no clue what he’s thinking.

I know what I am thinking, though. “It is. For me.”

“Well, damn.” He grins.

No idea what he seems so pleased about.

“You’re not listening, man. I don’t think she feels the same way.”

“Feelings. Well, this is getting better and better.”

Dammit. “Screw you, Tyler.”

Why the hell did I open up to him? True, I know him quite well—he’s almost always here at the shop, and he is a quiet and calm guy. Never heard him yell, never saw him make a threatening move on anyone. Could be why.

“Amber likes you,” another male voice says.

I look up, startled. “What?”

Micah is standing next to Tyler, glaring at me.

Whoa. What crawled up his ass? “Whatever.”

“You heard me. She likes you a lot. She’s head over heels with you. If that’s the girl you’re referring to, and I assume it is, seeing as it’s the only girl you’ve been spending time with.”

“And what’s with the death glare?” I counter-attack, because, damn, I need a moment to process what he just said.

Head over heels? Amber?

“Take a guess. You go through girls like underwear. Amber is Ev’s best friend. This is the mother of all bad ideas.”

Uh-oh. I offended Micah’s righteous sensibilities. Because before meeting Evangeline, he was obviously a hermit in some cave on a mountain, eating insects and hanging out with lions.

“So… you and Amber, huh?” Ah, Zane has joined the beat-Jesse-with-a-righteous-stick party. “Seriously?”

“What do you mean, seriously?” A hot surge of anger shoots up my chest. I slam my fist on the counter. “Fuck off. All of you.”

Micah is still glaring at me, and I know Ev isn’t my biggest fan, but come on. Tyler pulls him away and they vanish somewhere in the shop.

“Told you to play nice with her, didn’t I, fucker?” Zane wanders into the cubicle, and I’d love to throw him out right now, but hell, it’s his cubicle and shop and all.

Fuck.

“Who says I didn’t?”

“We wouldn’t be talking about Amber if there wasn’t trouble.”

“And you naturally assume it’s my fault.” I’m tired of people thinking that before even asking.

“You’re the one with the bad rep.”

“Story of my life.”

“Told you she was hurt in the past.”

And I wasn’t? “You did. I’m not gonna hurt her.”

“You mean you won’t be wrapped around another girl at the wedding reception?”

“Dammit, Zane, no, I won’t.” I grit my teeth. “I didn’t know I was gonna meet her, all right? Meet someone like her. That she’d be different. For me.”

He stills in the process of preparing the ink. “Different.”

I eye him warily. “You also gonna tell me what a bad idea this is? Because, honestly, I’m all out of fucks.”

He looks startled, then he scowls. “She’s—”

“Okay, back off.” I lurch to my feet and turn to go. “Maybe she’s not as broken as you think. Maybe she’s just cracked and only needs a bit of glue to put her straight.”

Silence spreads.

Then Zane chuckles. “I like what you just said, fucker.”

I chance a glance over my shoulder. Asshole is grinning from ear to ear.

“You do?”

“Yeah. So what happened? She said she’s not interested?”

I rub my chest, where it hurts. “Something like that.”

“So fight for her.”

The fuck.

“This isn’t a fantasy movie, Z-man. I don’t have superpowers or anything.” Yeah, I’m off balance and defensive as fuck. So what.

“Shut up, man. Who needs superpowers?” Zane’s dark eyes narrow to the barest of slits. “Take her out, buy her a gift, show her she is the one. Convince her. You’re a charming motherfucker. You can do it.”

I blink. “You’re okay with it?”

“Fucker…” He sighs, turns back to his tattoo gun. “I used to be a manwhore, worse than you. Until I met Dakota, and then I changed, because she was it for me. If Amber does that for you, who am I to stop you from being happy?”

Happy. That word again.

I can try. Nothing to lose. “I’m not a quitter.” I wouldn’t be alive if I was.

“Never thought you were.”

“So I should… what, date her?”

“That sounds about right.”

I open my mouth, close it.

“And now we’ve solved the mysteries of love, let’s get to work,” Zane says. “Show me your drawings, and put on those gloves. Your next customer will be here any minute.”

Well, hell.

***

Zane pushes me to do another part of a tattoo on his customer’s back, and this time my hand is steadier and I’m more confident in my abilities.

But then he tells me he expects me to practice longer and finish his apprenticeship. He wants me to stop at least one of my other part time jobs to spend more time on drawing and practicing.

He’s right. I should. This is what I want to be—a tattoo artist. I love creating the pictures, inking them into the skin in indelible designs. Marking people like I marked myself.

Damage Control. This is what it’s all about, isn’t it? Dealing with the past. Finding peace.

One day I hope to find it for myself, too.

Amber…

Yet, leaving my part time jobs is another matter. I pretend to agree to everything Zane says, to agree I can’t juggle so many gigs and focus on my apprenticeship, too, and leave it at that.

He wouldn’t understand, plus he’d be pissed, and it’s frightening how much I want to stay. To learn more, have an income and a roof over my head, and almost believe I have friends, a family of sorts.

I’m a sucker for this illusion. It’s what’s kept me sane all these years, this dream that I’d have a home one day, and that I’d stay.

Which is why I’m saving money. I need to be ready for whatever life throws into my path next. For once, I want to stay on my feet. Is it too fucking much to ask?

It’s in the middle of my shift at the café when Jason calls me. I forgot I even gave him my new number, and the bad feeling churning in my gut when I hear his voice cuts clear through my worries about Amber and the future.

“J? You okay?” he yells into the phone, and I wince, pulling it away from my ear. “Can you hear me?”

“I can hear you. Calm down.” I put the cell back to my ear. “What’s going on? Why the hell are you shouting?”

“Sorry. I’m in the waiting room in St. Mary’s. It’s packed full of people, like you wouldn’t believe.”

“St. Mary’s? Why?” I glance at the tables and the few customers, then at Megan who’s leaning back on the bar, observing. I turn my back and head for the door.

“We got another one down. A girl this time, Mia. It was him. Simon Gomez.”

“You can’t know that.” Yet my stomach is knotting up.

“They saw him, man. But nobody will testify.”

Dammit. “Why would he do this?”

“Think, J. Why did he beat you up back then?”

“Crazy bastard said I was on his turf.”

“You know Kaia died right?”

The pimp controlling the neighborhood, the one that kept Simon back until now.

I stumble as I go down the steps to the street and barely catch myself before I fall. “What? When?”

“Ten days ago. The night Mikey was beaten. Then he caught Kyle, and now Mia. He’s got drugs circulating, and he wants us away. As you said, a crazy bastard.”

Fuck, fuck. “Mia should tell the police. She—”

“You should do it, J. She’s just a kid, and tomorrow she’ll be back on the street. Can’t afford it, but you… He won’t even know who ratted him out. I doubt he remembers you after three years.”

But maybe he does.

Jason doesn’t know the whole story. Nobody does but me. It’s personal all right. Simon wanted more than just vacation of the premises. He wanted me to join him.

And as a first step, he demanded I go down on him. When I refused, he tried to force me. I was exhausted from hunger and a bad cold that wouldn’t let up. But I fought back, and I have the fucking scars to show for it.

He didn’t get his way. For a man like him, that has to be something memorable.

“This is a shitty plan,” I mutter, “and you know it.”

“Yeah, well, it’s the only plan we got, baby,” Jason drawls and disconnects.

***

Telling Mel to hold the taco fort and that I’ll be in late, I head to St. Mary’s.

Mel… is important to me. He used to feed me when I was hungry. I’d pass by late, and he’d give me his leftovers. I owe him, and even though the pay is damn low, I wouldn’t dream of leaving him without help.

Zane doesn’t know this. There’s a lot he doesn’t know about me.

On my way to the hospital, I feel an itch between my shoulder blades as if someone is watching me. Following me.

Which is laughable. I check over my shoulder, just in case, and think I see a shadow skulking away, but that’s bullshit. Why would anyone follow me?

St. Mary’s emergency room is packed when I walk inside. I see Jason the moment he spots me, too, and we move toward each other. He looks frazzled and out of place, dressed in his skin-tight, ripped jeans and silver tank top, showing off his tats and scars.

“Whatcha doing here?” He sounds brisk and gruff, but the relief is shining out of his face. “Didn’t think you’d come.”

“Yeah well, here I am.” I shove my hands into my pant pockets. “Just because I don’t live on the street anymore doesn’t mean I don’t fucking care.”

He shrugs. I don’t think he believes me. “I’d do the same in your shoes, man,” he says. “Get out as fast as I can and not look back.”

Right. So much for getting through to him. “Where’s Mia?”

“This way. They’re about to discharge her. She’ll be okay.”

You wouldn’t think it by looking at her. A slight girl with short, dark hair and large green eyes, beaten black and blue. A bandage over her eye is hiding stitches, and the way she’s holding herself hints at bruised ribs.

Pressure is building in my chest. Rage. I have to do something about this. These are my people, no matter what Jason thinks. I can’t let this happen again.

But what the fuck can I do? How can I take them off the street and protect them from life’s blows? Even if I used up the money I’ve saved…

The money I saved for myself. To protect myself.

Dammit.

I stare at Jason, who’s helping the girl fill out forms and shit, his face lined with concern, without really seeing them, thoughts buzzing inside my skull like angry bees.

I know what I have to do, and to hell with being afraid. Time to act.

Chapter Seventeen

Amber

“You can do this.” Staring into the full-length mirror of my bedroom, I assess my appearance one last time.

Of course, that’s what I told myself five minutes ago, too.

Kayla said I look good enough to eat. That’s good, right? I smooth down my short silver dress, pat my pendant—made by moi—wiggle my painted toes in my strappy sandals, and remember how Jesse stared at me when I tried the dress on at the shop.

Like he was drinking me up with his eyes. And God, he’d looked so unbelievably handsome in his new shirt and pants.

Despite my best efforts, I peek at my watch again, checking the time. Will he keep his promise, take me to the wedding?

When he walked out of here yesterday morning without a word, after the night we spent together, I got his number from Ev and called him, but he never picked up.

Why?

My face heats at the memory of his body moving against mine, inside mine, of the things he said.

Of course, after that, I had to go and open my big mouth, question everything. I’m beginning to regret it now—but worse still, I may have been right to think this isn’t anything important to him.

Because he isn’t here. And he may not show up at all. There’s your clue, Amber. Open your damn eyes. 

I glance again at my watch.

Kayla left an hour ago, and Ev is going with Micah. Stupid that I counted on Jesse to keep his word. A heartbreaker. A skirt chaser. Stupid that I counted on anyone at all.

Don’t rely on others. Stand on your own two feet. Don’t show weakness. How could I forget my lessons?

Be strong and face your fears. The wedding reception will suck, but you won’t die from it. And then it will be over, and you’ll have survived.

I wander away from the mirror, pushing back irritably a lock of dark hair that has escaped my chignon and is trailing on my cheek. Showing weakness is the best way to get hurt again. On top of that, I told him about my fears, touched him, kissed him, had sex with him.

Oh God… Haven’t I learned anything?

I grab the lion pendant from the wall and sink on my bed, letting it roll on my palm, cool and hard.

Embers. A lost toy. A lost childhood.

He should have this, I think, and the thought wheels through my mind, gathering momentum.

I’ll give it to him. Even if he never comes to pick me up, even if this was all we had. Because he’s still battling demons, and he should have something to hold on to, something to give him strength.

Yeah, if I see him again. Would passing by his apartment to drop the pendant off look weird?

I put the pendant into my purse, undecided. In any case, it’s way past time to leave, and he’s not here. Throttling the disappointment swelling in my chest, I make up my mind to stop wondering and waiting and fretting. I’ll grab a cab and go.

See? I’m a big girl.

I’m already on my feet, my purse slung over my shoulder and my wedding gift in my hands—a set of cute baby clothes I bought for Asher’s and Audrey’s son—when the door buzzer goes off. It’s one of those annoying ding-dong sounds.

Frozen like a deer in headlights, I swallow hard.

Can’t be him. Maybe Kayla forgot something. Or it’s a mistake.

Don’t get your hopes up, girl. He isn’t coming.

And if it’s him?

Dropping my purse on the sofa, I walk as if through water to the door phone and press the button, excited and dreading.

“Who is it?”

“Embers, it’s me, Jesse,” his warm voice says over the speaker. “Look, I know I’m kinda late… There was something I had to take care of, but I’m here now. Let me in?”

Heat spreads down my neck, and I realize I’m smiling.

Oh dear baby Jesus. I need to stop this right now.

I buzz him up without answering, not trusting my voice. I pat my heated cheeks, wonder if I have time to splash some cold water on my face before he comes up—but he’s knocking on my door after what feels like a nanosecond.

Okay, here goes.

I open the door and find him lounging against the doorjamb, that familiar, sexy grin in place. He’s not wearing his baseball cap, and that’s my last conscious thought before my mind goes blank and heat seeps into every part of me.

Wow. Holy crap.

In his new metallic blue shirt that makes his eyes sparkle like shards of topaz, in dark pants and black shoes, he’s drop-dead gorgeous—more gorgeous than any guy has any right to be. So unfair. How can I keep my distance now?

He pushes off the doorframe, sleeves rolled-up, displaying his powerful forearms—all liquid grace and strength.

“Hey,” he says, and the dark undercurrent of his voice pins me to the spot. His gaze sweeps over me, from my head to my painted toes, in a heatwave. “Fuck, you…” He stops, swallows hard, licks his lips. “You’re so pretty.”

My heart is pounding. “You clean up nicely yourself,” I find myself saying, and he gives a husky laugh, his lashes lowering over his eyes.

Man, he’s sexy. I want him to kiss me, to hold me, to touch me like he did two nights ago.

“I’m thirsty,” he says.

“One minute.” I turn toward the kitchen, and my purse slips from my shoulder to the floor with a quiet flop.

He bends and grabs it, though he doesn’t give it back to me, instead watching me with that lazy half-grin, and his eyes hooded.

Whoa. Get yourself together, Amber.

I hurry to the kitchen and pour him a glass from the tap. When I turn, he’s right behind me, and I yelp when he grips my arm to stop me from dropping the glass and harming myself as I flail.

“Jesus, JJ.”

“You make me thirsty,” he whispers, pries the glass from my nerveless fingers and places it on the counter. “Can’t stop thinking about you.”

Then he puts his hands on the counter on either side of me and hems me in, pressing his long, taut body into mine. His face dips and his firm, warm mouth closes over mine. Pressure, heat, and when my lips part under the onslaught, his tongue thrusts inside, and I melt in his hold.

Chocolate and spice, bitter and sweet and scorching, so hot I can’t help the small sounds rising from my chest. I grab his arms, nails digging into his biceps, because I feel as if I’m falling from a skyscraper, tumbling into a dark void.

He breaks the kiss and I stare, dizzy, into his sea-colored eyes. “Damn, girl…” He shakes his head, struggling for breath as I am. “Can’t control myself around you.” He shifts, and his arousal presses into my side, branding me through the dress.

Makes me catch my breath on a gasp.

“I came to take you to the wedding,” he rasps, lifting a hand to my face, staring into my eyes, “and to make you see I want to be with you. I know you’re having doubts, that it was a one-night stand to you, that it means nothing—but it does mean a lot to me. I’ve never felt like this before. Fuck, I’ve never asked this of any girl before, but can you…?” He groans, bending over me. “Christ, Embers.”

He takes my mouth again, before I have a chance to comprehend what he’s telling me, and pushes me up until I lift myself and wrap a leg around him, my ass propped on the edge of the counter.

Be with me. Never felt this way before. Never asked—

Wait. One-night stand? Did he overhear what I said to Kayla –was that why he left without saying goodbye last time?

I push on his chest to break the kiss, to say something, but he shoves my short dress up and his big hand slips underneath it, rough and warm, right between my spread legs. His questing fingers push under my underwear and find my clit.

“Oh God,” I moan against his lips. “JJ…”

Need washes through me like a flash flood, making my toes curl and my legs tense. My breasts ache, and I throb inside, clenching on empty. I need… need him. My body is on fire.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, pressing two fingers deep into me, his mouth moving to the corner of my mouth, then along my jaw and down my neck, leaving hot kisses and the sharp nip of his teeth.

I’m coming apart. The pressure is skyrocketing, my body tightening, tensing as he expertly takes me to the brink, fingers pumping, his thumb circling my clit, his mouth marking the juncture of my neck and shoulder—a counter beat of pain that plunges me without warning into a mind-blowing orgasm.

Biting my lip to keep quiet, I still can’t keep back a moan as the pressure reaches a breaking point, and I clench around his fingers, coming in long shudders, rocking against him.

On, and on, and on.

“Kitten… You okay?”

I hum an affirmative, unable to speak just yet. We stay like that, his face buried in my neck, me clutching at him, trying to come back to earth, shivers running down my spine. I’m fully seated on the counter by now, legs wrapped around his hips, and when he shifts again, uncomfortably, his massive hard-on pokes me where I’m still throbbing pleasantly.

“Oh God.” I bite my lip harder when he groans softly and rocks, rubbing his hardness over the soaked lace of my panties.

Suddenly the crazy orgasm I’ve just had isn’t enough. I need him inside me right now. I reach for the fly of his pants, and he pulls back a little, his eyes so dark they look black. When my fingers brush over his trapped erection, he jerks and grunts.

I grip the zipper. “What do you want—”

“You,” he says without hesitation and puts his hand over mine, shoving it down so that I unzip his fly. “How about you? What do you want, kitten?”

Bold, as I always am around him, I pull the zipper down all the way and slide my fingers into his pants. “This.”

But we both gasp, because—surprise, surprise—he’s going commando, and my hand finds the velvet skin of his hot, diamond-hard cock.

He’s panting harshly now, sweat making his brow gleam. We’re locked in a frozen time-frame, my hand wrapped around his hard-on, and he leaning with one hand on the counter, the other sliding up my arm.

A heartbeat passes. Then another, a vein beating on the underside of his cock fluttering against my palm. I rub my thumb up and down the soft skin, so deliciously stretched over a core of steel, and he whimpers as if he’s in pain.

“Embers,” he hisses, teeth gritted. “Can you just… Goddammit.”

I’m pulling his cock free of his pants, not an easy process. He’s big, and very hard. I end up undoing the button of his fly, opening his pants all the way.

He gives a heartfelt groan when I stroke him from root to tip, his eyes falling shut. I do it again, fascinating by the thickness of his shaft, the softness of the head, the wet spilling from the small slit, the small twitches it gives as I tug on it.

Fascinated by the sounds coming from Jesse with every stroke, the way his arm shakes and his hand clutches the back of my head like he has no control over his muscles. His jaw is slack, his lips parted. His eyes open when I tug on him harder. He lifts them to meet my gaze, but they are unfocused and heavy-lidded.

I trace the ridge behind the head of his cock, and his hips buck forward, a choked moan leaving his throat.

“Fuck…” He’s trembling, rocking into my hand. “No.”

And with that, he draws back, forcing me to let go, then grabs me under the thighs and lifts me up.

I squeal, totally unprepared for this sudden change. “What are you doing?”

“Hang on.”

That’s exactly what I do. I wrap myself around him like a starfish, only too aware of his hardness trapped between us, its heat seeping through my panties.

“JJ…”

“One sec.”

His hands hold me up like I weigh nothing. He turns, carrying me over to the kitchen table. Bending his knees, he settles me on it and sweeps off with one hand everything on it. Distantly I hear something crash to the floor—and then he’s pulling down my panties, spreading my legs and bending over me, the head of his cock kissing my entrance.

A long, hot, wet kiss, and my folds part under the insistent pressure, letting him in.

Oh my God. Holy crap. I cling on to him, my back arching over the table, as he slides home, inch by unbearably pleasurable inch. My eyes are falling close as my body shakes, an overdose, but I stubbornly keep them open, needing to see his face.

His dark brows are drawn together, a deep crease between them, and sweat clings to his long lashes in crystal drops as he holds himself still for an endless moment.

Then he draws back, his cock doing a slow drag against my inner walls, only to slam back in.

We both cry out. He lowers himself over me until his face is directly over mine. He captures my mouth, kissing me hard, while he does the withdrawing-and-thrusting-back-inside thing. Again. And again.

He fills me up, possesses me like no one else has. His hard cock inside me burns, stretching me as far as I can go, but it’s good. So good I want to cry. Pleasure of this magnitude should be illegal. A boy so sexy should be outlawed.

A boy so kind.

But he breaks the kiss, lifts up on his hand, doing a reverse push up, thrusting a little bit deeper, a little bit better—and the fleeting thought is swept away in the torrent of pleasure as my body convulses. My core closes in around his cock, tightening like a steel coil, cutting off my breath.