Jaked, page 21
At this, Jake burst out laughing.
"It's not funny," I said.
"No. It's not," He said. "But trust me. She's not a stalker. I've met her fiancé. That's all."
"Oh. Well, that's nice." I hesitated. "Isn't it?"
"Yeah," he said. "It's nice." And then, as if eager to change the subject, he said, "Hey, you know why everyone's mad at the Chainsaw?"
I shook my head. "No. Why?"
"Get this," Jake said. "Last Saturday, the guy 'accidentally' spikes a football into the stands, hits this ten-year-old kid who's wearing the opposing team's jersey."
"That's terrible," I said. "On purpose?"
"No." Jake's voice grew sarcastic. "Not on purpose. The ball slipped, that's all."
"Was the kid hurt?"
"Nah," Jake said. "It knocked him over though. Chainsaw thought it was fucking hilarious."
"What an asshole," I said.
Jake's eyebrows lifted. "Yeah?"
"Oh come on," I said. "He is."
"You see me arguing?" Jake said. "Everyone hates him. Even the fans."
"Is that why you picked a fight with him?" I asked.
"Nah, he picked the fight with me. Remember?"
"You mean the one I saw?"
"Eh, the one before that."
I didn't bother to hide my skepticism. "By any chance," I said, "did you happen to, oh, I don't know, provoke him in any way?"
Jake grinned. "There might've been some provoking."
"I knew it."
"Hey," Jake said. "I'm good at two things –pissing people off and fighting. Why not put it to use, right?"
The logic made sense in a Jake sort of way. But I couldn’t quite agree with all of what he had said. "You're not good at only two things," I told him.
"Is that so?"
I nodded. "In fact, there's a third thing you're particularly good at." Across the table, I crooked my finger for him to come closer. When he did, I added, "but I'm not saying you couldn't use a little more practice. Like soon."
A slow smile spread across Jake's face. "Yeah?"
I nodded. "Definitely."
Chapter 50
Within fifteen minutes, we were out of the restaurant and on the road. Night had fallen, and Jake navigated the nearly empty highway while I kept him company from the passenger's seat.
He was driving a different car than the one he'd used to pick me up from Maddie's. Probably, that car was still in the shop. This one was shiny and black with a grey interior and kick-ass sound system.
With the music on low, I glanced toward the rear of the car, where we'd stashed the shopping bags. "I still can't believe you didn't get yourself anything," I said.
He gave me a sideways glance. "But I did," he said. "Remember?"
I looked down at my new outfit. "Oh come on," I said. "This?"
"Yeah, that." He turned his head to give me a long, appreciative look. When he returned his gaze to the road, the hint of a smile played across his lips.
This time, when we neared Jake's building, he passed the front turnaround and circled around to the side, entering a concrete parking garage under the building. He pulled into a numbered spot and popped the trunk.
A couple moments later, he was pulling shopping bags out of the trunk.
Standing beside him, I said, "Here, let me carry some."
"Not a chance," he said, grabbing the last bag and holding it out of my reach.
I laughed. "You do realize you're spoiling me something awful?"
"Good," he said. "Now come on." He flicked his head toward a wide metal doorway with an exit sign hanging just above it.
Together, we walked toward it, chatting about nothing in particular. Probably, I was talking too much, because honestly, I was almost afraid I'd jump him right here in the parking garage.
I gave him a long, sideways look. He was my real-life fantasy, dark and sexy, and slightly dangerous, in spite of his expensive clothes and designer watch. My lips parted, and my breathing grew shallow. Abruptly, I stopped talking.
We were quiet a little while until Jake broke the silence by saying, "I've got a question."
"Yeah? What?"
"Just how much practice do you think I need?"
"Huh?"
"In the restaurant," he said, "you said I needed practice."
I felt myself smile. "I didn't say you needed practice. I just said you could practice, you know, if you wanted to."
Next to me, Jake made no response as we entered the building and walked toward the elevators.
I cleared my throat. "But you don't have to," I said, "I mean if you're tired or something."
His voice held the hint of teasing. "So you're tired?"
"No," I blurted out. "Definitely not."
He gave me a wicked grin. "No?"
With an effort, I tried to sound slightly less desperate. "I mean, well, I'm a night owl, so I'm up for whatever."
"Good," he said. "Want a tour of my office?"
"What?" Unsure what had just happened, I gave a little shake of my head. "You mean your home-office? In your penthouse?"
"No," he said. "My regular office."
"You have an office?" I said. "Why?"
"Why not?" he said. "I've got stuff. And people. They've got to go someplace, right?"
Trying to concentrate on more than the mouthwatering idea of getting him naked, I made myself ask, "What kind of stuff?"
"Computer stuff mostly," he said. "Servers, software, work stations, a small graphics studio, that sort of thing."
I almost had to laugh. "I can't believe I'm actually talking about computers with you."
"You know much about computers?" he asked.
I shook my head. "Nope."
"Me neither," he said. "Thus, the people."
"And now," I said, "I can't believe you just said 'thus'."
"Just seeing if you're paying attention."
Oh, I was paying attention, alright. Just not to anything business-related. But that did remind me of something. "Speaking of computers," I said, "who hacked into my email account? You never did tell me."
"You can thank Trey for that."
"Somehow, I can't see myself thanking him."
Jake gave a low laugh. "Give it time. You want the tour or not?"
We'd just made it to the elevators. What I really wanted was him. Like now.
I wanted us to be naked. I wanted to reach out with my fingers and trace the contours of his muscles and tattoos. And then I wanted a whole lot more. But Jake had been such a great sport about shopping that there was no way I'd be saying no to a tour, if that's what he really wanted to be doing. Plus, I was genuinely interested.
"That sounds great," I said. "I can't wait." I glanced back toward the parking garage. "So where's your office? Are we heading back to the car?"
"Nah." Still holding the bags, Jake leaned forward and pressed the elevator up-button with his elbow. "It's here in the building."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I'll show you."
In front of us, the nearest elevator door slid open, and we stepped forward. Inside, Jake used his elbow again to press the button for the floor just below his penthouse. Once the elevator started moving, we stood side-by-side, facing the elevator doors while I tried not to fling myself at him.
I snuck a quick glance in his direction. He looked relaxed, casual even. I tried to look relaxed and casual too, as opposed to the sex-starved idiot I was on the inside.
In front of us, the numbers on the control panel changed with every floor and then stopped at the floor he'd pressed. When the elevator doors opened, Jake motioned for me to go first.
Breathlessly, I stepped out of the elevator and looked around. The place didn't look like any office I'd ever seen. Mostly, it was all windows and wide open spaces, with marble floors and clusters of nicely arranged furniture positioned here and there.
The lights were still off, but there was more than enough light to get the basic feel of the place. I looked around. The window-blinds were open, and lights from the city streamed in from all sides. "It's beautiful," I said. "But not exactly what I was expecting."
Next to me, Jake set down the bags. "I know the feeling," he said.
I looked over at him. "But you've been here lots of times, right?"
He met my gaze. "I wasn't talking about the office."
A soft breath escaped my lips. "Oh."
He moved closer, and his casual demeanor vanished. "Want to know why I brought you here?" he asked.
My breath caught. "Sure."
His gaze travelled the length of me. "Want me to tell you? Or show you?"
How did a girl answer such a thing, especially when he was looking at me like that? Cast in shadows, his angular face showed no hint of that boyish streak that I'd seen in the store.
I gazed up at him. "You could do both," I said, "if you wanted."
Chapter 51
Through the shadows, I saw a slow smile spread across his face. He loomed closer, and his lips brushed my ear. "You see what you're wearing?" he said.
I glanced down at my new outfit. When I spoke, my voice was nearly too breathless to be heard. "Yeah."
"This is what I'm gonna do." He reached out and trailed a finger lightly down my neck, toward the center of my cleavage. "You see that nice, respectable shirt you're wearing?"
Mutely, I nodded.
His finger trailed lower, grazing over those pearly buttons of the formal blouse. "I'm going to rip that thing off your hot little body, button by button."
My breath hitched. "You are?"
His voice was low, hypnotic. "I am." He kissed my earlobe. "And then, I'm going to take that lacy bra of yours and rip it aside, so I can get a good, long look at you." His finger was still trailing lower. It was nearing my naval. He continued. "And when my eyes have had their fill, wanna know what I'm gonna do next?"
Wordlessly, I nodded again.
"You see that armchair by the window?"
Listening to his voice, hearing the things he was saying, I was growing hotter and wetter with every word. Somehow, I managed to whisper, "Yeah. I see it."
"I'm gonna carry your sweet ass over there, and I'm gonna bend you that armrest, and I'm gonna lift up that new skirt of yours and yank down your panties…"
Oh. My.God. He had barely touched me, and I felt in danger of climaxing any second.
His finger trailed lower, skimming over my naval and onto the fabric of the new black skirt. "And then, when I have you just the way I want you, I'm gonna grip those sweet hips of yours and make you mine until you forget your own name."
I could hardly breathe. Or maybe I was breathing too much. I tried to speak. The only sound that came out was a soft moan.
He pulled his lips from my ear. Like a powerful predator, he circled to the front of me. Catching my breath, I looked up. Our gazes locked and held. He was so beautiful. And so primitive. And so thrilling. I wanted to remember this forever. I knew I would remember it forever, no matter what happened next.
His gaze dipped to my blouse. I braced myself, wondering if he'd actually live up to that insane promise. But all he did was reach up with both hands to caress the sides of my face. Slowly, he lowered his lips to mine. I sagged against him, lost in the feel of his lips and the motions of his tongue.
Too soon, he pulled away, leaving me utterly lost. With his hands still caressing my face, he moved a fraction backward. Slowly, his hands slipped down my face, over the sides of my neck, and down to my shoulders.
Mesmerized, I drank in the sight of him. His lips were parted, and his eyes were hungry. In his coiled muscles, I saw passion battling with self-control. My heart racing, I felt his warm fingers slide under the neckline of the blouse. I caught my breath.
Suddenly, as if he couldn’t wait an instant longer, he gave the fabric a soft yank. I heard a button pop and fabric give way. His eyes grew hungrier, and my breath hitched. He gave another soft yank, and second button went flying.
My knees were weak, and my heart was racing. He yanked again, and third button succumbed to the force. When I whimpered with need, he gave a vicious yank at the thin fabric. I heard fabric tearing and buttons popping. I heard a low groan. Maybe mine. Maybe his. Maybe both. Cool air brushed over my stomach, and I stifled a shiver that felt achingly hot.
I watched breathlessly as his eyes devoured me like I was his last meal on Earth.
His voice was ragged when he said, "You're so sweet. So perfect." He reached up and yanked aside the lacy fabric of my bra. I felt cool air on my nipples, and heard his low exhalation of breath.
I glanced down, seeing what I had already felt. With the fabric pushed aside, somehow the concentration of lacy support was raising my breasts higher, as if begging for his attention. With a low murmur, he cupped them in his warm hands and worried the nipples between his fingertips.
I should've been embarrassed. I could only imagine how I looked – half naked in a torn blouse and a bra that covered next to nothing. But I wasn't embarrassed. I was hungry. For him.
I wanted to tear at his clothes and get a good, long eyeful of his glorious muscles and tantalizing tattoos. I wanted to run my hands over his skin. I wanted to touch him everywhere and make him want me like I wanted him.
I reached up with both hands and gripped the neckline of his dress shirt. Following his lead, I yanked the fabric aside, and half of the buttons went flying, giving me a nearly perfect view of his chiseled chest, along with a sneak peek at his amazing abs. I yanked again, and his torso was utterly exposed.
His chest, so perfectly sculpted, was just like I remembered. I reached out and trailed a hand over his pecs and downward until I skimmed his flat stomach.
I inched my hand lower, over the waistband of his pants, and lower still, until I felt the outline of his massive erection. Through the fabric of his pants, I gripped his length and ran a palm over its contours. I felt a thrill of triumph when he gave a low moan that sounded an awful lot like my name.
His hands were moving now too. One of them skimmed my stomach and reached up to lift my skirt. He skimmed the inside of my thighs and stopped when he reached the front of my ever-dampening panties.
Through the smooth fabric, I felt the tantalizing touch of his finger as it brushed against that special spot, rubbing and coaxing until my knees felt like jelly, and I was slick with wanting him. I was grinding against him now, desperately ready and wanting more.
Unable to wait an instant longer, I moved to unbutton his pants. He stepped away, leaving me cold and hungry. I gave another whimper.
And then, almost before I knew what was happening, he plowed forward to throw me over his shoulder. A half-moan, half-giggle escaped my lips as he took long, powerful strides toward the armchair.
As he moved, I felt his hand reach under the skirt, and then under my panties. His warm palm cupped my bare ass, petting and caressing as he moved us forward. It was almost too much – the thoughts of him, the feel of him against me, the sensation of my hair dangling over his back as we moved – I needed him now, before I went absolutely insane.
When we reached the armchair, he lifted me over his shoulder and half-tossed, half-laid me, face-down, over the chair's wide, cushiony arm. I turned my head to look back at him and tried to take a mental picture, something I could pull out later when this night was long gone. Silhouetted against the city windows, he looked a lot more like a conquering warrior than a guy from my old neighborhood.
My feet, still in those heels, slid against the marble floor, as if looking to lend at least a little stability to my vulnerable position.
"Give it up," he said, "you're not going anywhere."
Like I'd want to.
He prowled closer, and I felt his hands at my hips, skimming the bunched-up fabric of that short black skirt. With one forceful motion, he shoved the skirt up completely above my waist and then yanked down my panties, leaving the thin fabric straining, taut against my thighs.
With one hand, I reached behind, looking to push the panties downward and kick them off.
Gently, he stopped my hand. "Don't move," he said. "I want to see you just like this."
Lost in the moment, I swear, I couldn't have argued with anything he wanted, so I didn't even try. When I heard the sounds of a zipper, and felt his erection tease against my opening, I let out a moan of need.
Using my heels as leverage, I moved my hips upward, hoping he'd give me what I so desperately wanted. Instead, I felt his fingers drifting up the inside of my thigh until they reached their intersection. I felt a fingertip move higher and give that hardened little knob a long circular stroke that soon had me squirming against him and panting for more. And more.
It was utterly maddening. I wanted him inside me, and I wanted his touch. Desperate for both, I moved my hips backward. When he pulled back, leaving me no more satisfied than I'd been just a moment earlier, I whimpered with longing.
How could he wait, when he knew I was dying for him?
Desperate for anything he was willing to give, I wriggled my hips forward and ground against his fingertips. Finally, when I thought I couldn't wait another instant, I felt his erection tease my opening once again. But this time, instead of pulling back, he surged forward, entering me with one powerful motion, claiming me, filling me, making me moan out his name.
That was nearly all it took. I peaked hard and fast, shuddering with pleasure as his fingers and pelvis drove me over the top and then some.
As if free from constraint, Jake moved to grip my hips with both hands. He drove into me, harder and faster, until he too reached that moment of sweet oblivion. I heard my own name mingled with the sounds of his pleasure, along with the sounds of my own.
When we fell together, loose-limbed onto the armchair in a hot, quivering heap, I half-wondered if I'd wake up next day and learn this was all a dream.
I sure as hell hoped not, because if this was real, I definitely wanted to do this again.
Chapter 52
A couple hours later, we were sprawled in his penthouse, watching the city lights through the open window-blinds. We had showered together and thrown on some lounging clothes. For him, it was running pants with no shirt. For me, it was new lace panties and another oversized T-shirt from Jake's closet.
