Page 31

THIRTY

MARA

NOVEMBER

Wednesday night, I was up late doubting every choice I’d made. I was packing up my apartment to move my family in with some hockey player who was Aspen’s best friend’s dad. Granted, he was hot, but what if he had head damage that made him as mean as he feared he was? What if he was worse than Bryce?

I was neurotically packing each kitchen drawer into a separate box, saying goodbye to this place that I once had with Bryce. Did that make me sad to leave it, or happy to put it in the past?

A knock at the door interrupted my ennui, and I froze. It was one in the morning. I picked up my phone to dial 911 only to find a text from Jack, saying he was outside.

What if it was some murderer who stole Jack’s phone? What if Jack was the murderer?

Phone in hand and 911 dialed, ready to hit send in case this was the end for me, I swung my front door open. “Jack. Hey.”

Jack stood on my doorstep in a suit, suitcase at his side and one hand propped on the doorframe. His tie had already been taken off at some point, his collar slightly cattywampus. “Can I come in?”

I stepped back, closing the call app on my phone. “Yeah. Come in. What brings you over this late?”

“Just got in from St. Louis. Thought I’d see how my fiancée’s doing before the big move.” His lips curled up in a little smirk. “Did you just have 911 dialed?”

“Um, yes. I thought you’d murder me. Or maybe it wasn’t you somehow. It’s one in the morning, you know.”

He tipped his head from side to side as he closed the door behind him. “Fair. Glad your instinct is to be safe.”

“Safe from you?” I asked.

“From anyone. If you’re taking care of my kids, I want to know you’re ready to do what you need to do.”

“Good point.”

He stood, studying me for a minute. “You look cute.”

I blushed and smoothed my ponytail, gesturing to my sweatsuit. “Here I am!”

Jack took half a step closer. “I, um—” He put a tentative hand on my waist and dipped his head down to mine. I awkwardly swiveled my head, not sure if he was trying to kiss my cheek or my mouth. He hesitated, hovering while we both tried to figure it out. We kissed each other’s cheeks at the same time like we were European, but then Jack gripped my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “You’re going to be my wife in two days. Should probably kiss, yeah?”

“Probably,” I whispered against his lips.

We pressed our lips together, holding for a beat and pulling away. I kept my arms looped around his neck and his hands remained on my waist.

We’d kissed before with far more passion, but this was different somehow. Jack was coming in from a road trip and at my house and we hadn’t seen each other since we agreed to do this. It felt inappropriate to jump his bones, no matter how much that small smooch made my stomach flutter. In a way, it was like he was a stranger all over again, even though I’d picked up my wedding dress to wear with him on Friday.

We’d been so intensely connected before he left, and those few days apart felt like plunging into a cold pool. When we were together, everything made sense, but apart? What the hell had I been thinking?

It hadn’t even been a week since I got fired, had an allergic reaction, got hospitalized, and got engaged to the man in front of me.

He didn’t seem as petrified as I felt, but he did look nervous. He chuckled before his eyes flicked between us, down to my feet. “Cool shoes.”

“Thanks. My house Birks. My hips protest if I go barefoot or in something without superior arch support.”

“No, I love it. Very sexy. Very practical. Socks and sandals.”

“Maybe I’ll get you a pair,” I said, my thumb tracing his collar.

“Yeah? You think I need some?” Jack rasped. His tone shift told me we were absolutely not talking about German orthopedic footwear. My chest heaved and his tongue darted over his lower lip.

Okay, yeah. There was the attraction again. The spark.

A flash fantasy rattled through my brain of him slamming me against the wall behind me, crushing my body with his weight, grazing my neck with his lips and stubble.

He must have had a similar thought because his hand grasped the back of my neck and pulled me up to him right as I ratcheted my arm tighter around his neck.

This was the kiss I’d been looking for. His hand splayed over my lower back, drawing me up into him, but I backed into the wall. He groaned as we slammed against it but carried on, his teeth dragging on my lips, his tongue gliding against mine, and I had the fleeting thought that if I ever wanted to devour someone, it would be him.

He won’t love you .

The thought brought my hands on his chest and pushed him back, both of us panting and his hardness starting to press into my stomach. “I should finish packing,” I breathed.

He shook his head, his swollen lips hanging open. “What?”

“Let me out, please.”

Jack put his hands up and backed away from me. I scurried past him, busying myself with packing the kitchen drawers again. Jack stopped in the powder room in the hallway, then his heavy footsteps followed me into the kitchen.

He let out a little laugh. “Mara, stop it. I hired movers. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

I was bent over a box, clutching my back as I stood up. “I just want to make sure they pack it right.”

“They’re literally professionals,” Jack said, stepping to my side and pressing his fist into the spot I clutched on my lower back.

“Oh, fuck,” I sighed, leaning my forearms against the counter and pitching forward so he could dig in deeper. “Yes, shit, right there.”

“Keep moaning like that and we won’t be able to stay chaste until our wedding night,” he teased.

I smirked at him over my shoulder. “Yeah, what are we doing about that?”

“Having a wedding night?”

I glared at him. “And what does that mean to you—ah, fuck, yes, more,” I moaned.

“It means I’ll have training in the morning, and in the afternoon, we’ll go to the courthouse and say ‘I do.’”

“And then?” I pushed him on.

“Hold on,” he said, repositioning himself behind me. “Grab the sink. Use it for leverage. I’m going to pull your hips back.”

His fingertips hooked onto the insides of my hip bones while I held the sink.

“Fuck, Jackie baby, it feels like I’m gonna—” I breathed heavily, then panted as I flexed a muscle in my ass and popped my back.

“There ya go,” Jack growled, kneading my lower back. “Told ya I was good at cracking backs.”

“I’ll admit I’m surprised,” I laughed. “Thank you.”

“Let’s stand you up nice and easy.” Jack lined his front up with my back, slipping his arms around my chest and middle. He helped me get upright, and it shifted our bodies. In what I believe was a genuine accident, his hand grazed over my breast and a shiver passed through me.

I’m proud of myself. I didn’t moan. But I did sigh—the kind of sigh you let out when someone’s working you over.

“Sorry,” Jack murmured in my ear. But he didn’t let me go. He pulled me tighter to his front. His nose moved behind my ear, his breath feathering down my neck. We stayed that way: my neck bared to him and our bodies locked together. “I want to give you everything, Mara.”

“Except love,” I breathed.

“But what if you don’t really need love like you think you do?”

I snorted. “That’s perhaps the saddest and most twisted thing I’ve ever heard.”

His voice was soft and husky. “What if I just took care of you?”

There was only silence. The beat of my heart rushing in my ears. The tick of the clock I needed to not forget to put in a box.

On a shallow breath, I asked, “Take care of me how?”

“You want me to show you?” Jack’s fingers traveled across the elastic waistband of my sweatpants, sliding between each ruched bump. That allowed his thumb to caress the soft skin of my belly. That tiny bit of contact—and being sealed in his arms—was enough to make wetness start to pool in my underwear. God, I don’t even have hot underwear on, again. The softest kiss stroked my neck, my whole body twitching at the contact. “Or do you want me to let you go?”

Love is great. Love is a must. And I would work hard to convince Jack that love could happen for us.

But being touched is also a must. So is being worshipped and kissed. So is hands in hair and tongues and lips in secret places. So is the intimacy of someone paying dedicated attention to you and your pleasure.

The last fraying strand of my resolve snapped. Who cared about love right then? I wanted to be touched. “Show me.”

In one smooth move, one hand traveled up my sweatshirt and the other dove into my pants. A single finger parted me, slipping right through with how wet he’d gotten me. “Look at this, sweetheart. I got you all hot and bothered. Your body’s begging for me.”

I moved my hips against his finger. “I think it was you begging to taste me last time we did this.”

“You’re not making me beg for it today,” he said.

“We’ll see about that.”

Jack spun me around and crouched to pull my sweatpants and underwear down, helping me step out of them.

“Did you want me to leave the sandals on?” I teased.

He rolled his eyes. “Fuck no.”

“But I need arch support!” I protested, just to see what he’d do. He was so easy to rile up. He lived under the illusion that he was in charge when he absolutely was not. With a snarl, he slipped his hands under my naked ass, gripping so hard I almost caved to telling him it hurt.

In a flurry of kisses, he turned and plopped me on the countertop. He tried to peel my sweatshirt off, but ended up just tugging at the hem and gesturing upward. “Off.”

With a grin, I stripped it off, dropping it on the floor. Jack wasted no time pulling the neckline of my sports bra down, ripping my breast out of its holding spot, and sucking intensely. I rolled my hips, craving relief.

“Needy, aren’t you?”

“I can wait,” I sighed.

“Liar,” he breathed, nibbling along my collarbone.

“I bet you can’t wait,” I challenged him.

He narrowed his eyes at me. “No. It’s you.” His shoulders created a canyon when he dipped his head to suck my clit. I writhed into his mouth, taken aback with him going right for it. He popped back up, gripping my chin. “Open your mouth.”

Oh, I liked where Jack was headed. I obeyed, and he fired some spit into my mouth, tasting myself there more than anything. Then he kissed me, hard. “You taste like you can’t wait.”

“I’ll prove it to you, brat.” I fisted his hair and shoved his face to my inner thigh as he hissed. “Kiss anywhere but my pussy.”

Jack kissed my inner thighs, my stomach, the crease of my hip, and close to my ass, but to his credit, he didn’t disobey. He crept closer and closer, but I kept using my hand to keep him from getting to my center.

He huffed. “Fuck, Mara, isn’t that enough? Let me have it.”

I cocked my head to the side. “What was it you wanted again?”

Jack’s nostrils flared, sighing like I was the most frustrating human in America. “Let me eat your fucking cunt, Mara.”

“Please,” I baited him.

He pinched his lips into a line and snorted. “Please let me eat your fucking cunt.”

I laughed, low and dark, kicking my leg up and over his shoulder. “I knew you’d beg.”

His jaw fell open, looking like I’d betrayed and tricked him in the worst way. Because I had and I was quite pleased with myself. “Fuck you.”

I traced my thumb over his bottom lip, serving him a smug grin. “Yeah, you’re going to fuck me with this filthy mouth.”

He stood all the way up, grasping the back of my head while almost shaking with rage. “I am so fucking sick of you already.”

“Liar,” I whispered before he slammed his mouth into mine. Our kiss was almost painful, teeth and tongue and bites and groans. “Go get it, Jack. You know you want it.”

He snarled. “Only because I need to make you shut the fuck up for a second.”

I put a coy hand over my mouth to indicate my silence, and he pulled my thighs closer to the edge of the counter. Then, his mouth latched onto me as his tongue took a long stroke up my center.

“You sure you want me to be quiet?” I purred. “Because that feels so good.”

He pulled away, spitting on my pussy. “That’s not what I meant. Can’t you just moan like a normal person?” He lifted his hand and pushed a single finger into my face. “Stop running your goddamn mouth, put your feet on my shoulders, and come on my fucking tongue.”

I stroked my fingers through his hair. “It’s cute you think you’re in charge.”

He growled and buried his face in me again. He really made it too easy. All I had to do was deprive him the tiniest bit and he got ungodly wound up. If you told him not to touch the red button, he’d look you in the eye as he smashed his hand on it, probably hurting himself in the process.

Such a brat.

His tongue was almost punishing, flicking over my clit like he wanted to break it. I tousled his hair in my hand, gazing down at him. It’s like he considered eating me out an act of defiance, proving something, who knows what?

But that determination translated into a fiery pleasure licking up my spine. He barred one arm across my hips to keep me from squirming. All it did was keep me from levitating, ascending somewhere clear off the counter.

“Fuck, Jack, it’s so good. I’m so close.”

His muffled moan was soon met by the insertion of his finger, curling inside me where he worked. His curls were silky against my palms, my stomach crunched up with my head dropped back. I didn’t have any more sassy comebacks and snarky words. I rocked my hips and ground against his mouth, chasing my pleasure. My ears rang and my heart pounded, euphoria flooding my body as I surrendered.

“Fuck,” I whispered from a dry throat. “You did so good.”

He ran a hand over his soaked beard. “Really? Couldn’t tell.”

I shook my head and laughed, cupping his jaw to kiss him. “Thank you,” I breathed.

He smirked, bracing his hands on either side of me. “Told you I’d take care of you.”

Our kisses were slow and sensual, my taste covering his lips and my mess on my countertop. “What about you? Didn’t we decide I’m taking care of you too?”

“I don’t need anything,” he said, stepping back.

I eyed his bulging erection and the dark wet spot on his pants. “This says otherwise.”

He palmed his erect cock, shifting it in his pants. “You’re just going to torture me and I can’t do that. I just need to jack off.”

I gave him puppy dog eyes. “I don’t get to watch?”

“I don’t want to give you the satisfaction,” he spat.

My lips fell open. “You mean you didn’t like it when I watched you stroke yourself in your backyard?”

His jaw flexed and his nostrils flared. “God fucking dammit, where the fuck did you come from, devil woman?”

His fingers fumbled over his belt, his hands shaking as he undid the tab and zipper. He cussed and growled. “You drive me up the fucking wall, you know that? You want to watch? Here it fucking is.”

His hand picked up a furious pace.

“I drive you up the wall?” I asked.

“You fucking know you do!” Jack’s teeth were gritted together, his pants splayed open with one hand bracing himself on the counter. “You play this little fucking game, Mara.”

I tipped my head to the side. “I didn’t mean to frustrate you, Jack.” I slid off the countertop and stood in front of him, putting a gentle hand over his. “Let me.”

“Goddammit, Mara,” he whimpered as he let me take over.

I kissed him so gently, skimming my lips over his stubbled neck. “Maybe you need someone to take care of you too.”

He didn’t nod or shake his head, simply melting under my touch. I used my toe to scoot my discarded sweatshirt between us, lowering to my knees. Jack helped me down, knowing what I needed.

I dragged my lips over his shaft, a steady trail of precum dripping from the tip. I put sweet, tender little kisses all over his cock, holding him like he was some precious jewel. His head rolled back on his shoulders and he whined. “Mara, please. I’ve been so good.”

“You have.” Poor thing had taken enough torture. I spit on his length, then ran my tongue up it. His fingers clawed the underside of my hair as my mouth surrounded him. His grasp conveyed his desperation.

“You are so beautiful,” Jack whispered as I let him hit the back of my throat. “So perfect.”

I tightened my mouth around him and sped up to his groan, running my fingers over his balls. I was getting so fucking turned on, completely lost in how much he was losing it for me. His hips moved in time with my mouth. “It’s almost time, sweetheart. Pull off if you don’t want it in your mouth.”

I did pull off, but not in the way he expected. I tipped my chin up and stuck my tongue out.

“Fuck, you want me to paint your tongue, sweetheart?”

I nodded, letting him stroke himself. Warm, salty bursts popped onto my tongue, along with another below my lips.

“Never been more gorgeous,” he cooed, dragging his finger through the bit on my chin. I couldn’t quite talk, but I pulled on his forearms to get him to help me stand. I pushed his shoulder to make him kneel, his eyes rounding.

Then I gripped his chin, bent my mouth to his, and gave him what he’d given me.

“Swallow, Jack.”

His throat worked and his eyes remained wide.

“Show me.”

Jack stuck his tongue back out, showing me how well he’d cleaned up. I planted another kiss on his lips. “What a good boy you are.”

Then I propped my foot on the counter. “Now finish me off.”