Page 57 of Jinxed Hearts

“Take off your clothes,” he commands, voice thick with desire. “Slowly.” His confidence is magnetic, impossible to resist. “One piece at a time. Let me admire every inch of you. Because, Jenna, you deserve to be admired every single damn day.”

My heart is pounding. I don’t have a sexy bone in my body. I’m a mother. I’m clumsy. I’m ordinary.

But fuck…. when I’m with him? I disappear. Jenna disappears. And I become someone else. Someone fearless.

My fingers tremble as I undo my buttons one by one, pausing halfway down. But then he looks at me with this raw hunger, and I see the unmistakable bulge straining against his jeans.

My dress slips off my shoulders before pooling at my feet. I’m left in black lace panties and the push-up bra I once thought was a ridiculous indulgence. Not tonight though. Not here.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, his eyes dark with need. “You’re killing me. Why the hell don’t you wear that to work every day?”

My breath hitches.

Dylan leans back, his legs stretched out like he owns every inch of this space—and me.

I unhook my bra, my breasts and needy, hard nipples exposed. All the insecurities vanish under his gaze. I feel desirable.

“I knew you were beautiful,” he says, his voice rough. “But like this? You’re fucking breathtaking. Sit down. Take off those panties. Spread those gorgeous legs and unravel for me.”

My pulse pounds, every nerve alive with anticipation. His words strip me bare as I stand here feeling more vulnerable and exposed than my naked body.

Stripping down to my black high heels, I lie on the fur lounge chair. My body trembles against the soft fabric brushed against my skin.

“Touch yourself like you dream of me touching you,” he grunts.

“God, I’ve dreamed of your hands on me a thousand times,” I whimper.

“Imagine them gliding over your breasts,” he murmurs, voice low and dirty. “My mouth teasing your nipples. My fingers rubbing your sexy, wet clit, tasting how sweet you are until you can’t take it anymore.”

My body responds instantly, following the path his words paint. I follow his instructions, each one making me wetter than the next. I cup my breast, my hand drifting lower, chasing the high he gives me.

“Spread wider… show me how wet you are for me, Jenna,” he says, gripping the chair, barely holding himself back. And it pushes me to keep going.

I slide a finger inside myself, gasping at the sensation. My other hand squeezes my hardened nipple.

“That’s it. Add as many as you need,” he groans, his jaw clenched. “Fucking hell, you’re beautiful. Watching you is heaven—and pure fucking hell. I should be on my knees, tasting you, making you scream my name.”

My voice shakes with need. “Please, don’t stop. Don’t stop telling me how much you want me.” I rub myself harder, faster. My moans getting louder and louder.

“I won’t stop. But be a good girl.” His voice dips lower. “Stay quiet, unless you want everyone to know how badly you want me,” he growls, unbuttoning his jeans, and it makes me feral.

“My cock aches to be deep inside you. Add another finger, play with both your pretty little holes,” he orders. His hand rubs himself underneath his boxers, eyes never leaving mine.

I do exactly as he says, pulling one wet finger out of me, slowly teasing my other tight hole. It feels as forbidden as this moment, something I’ve never done on my own. The sensation as I enter in and out of myself with Dylan watching me is enough to wreck me.

“Look at me, Jenna.” His voice is ragged, demanding. “Look what you do to me.” He slowly strokes himself.

I gasp at the sight of him. Long. Curvy. Rock-hard for me.

“Now, imagine my lips on yours, my cock rubbing your clit until you’re begging for more.” His breath is heavy, his strokes matching my rhythm.

He moves closer, dropping to his knees beside me on the floor. The closeness makes me spiral faster, the tension pushing me toward the edge.

“Come for me, Jenna,” he grunts, his mouth barely brushing my ear. “Let me see every drop of pleasure dripping out of you, knowing it’s all for me.”

The intensity of his gaze… the heat radiating from his body… the raw fucking need in his voice undoes every last thread.

“I want to bend you over that desk and fuck you breathless until you forget your own fucking name,” he murmurs, stroking himself faster and faster. “I want your nails digging into my back as you beg me to fuck you harder, deeper.”