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I dry-humped his dick, fucked myself on his fingers and massaged my puckered ass into his hand. Sweat broke out along my upper lip, my skin itchy with the need to release. My body was rubber, pulled to its greatest length. At any moment, I would snap.
“You hear how wet you are, baby?” Jack hummed, drawing attention to the squelching sound of my arousal. He curled his fingers as I bobbed up and down, lost in my own lust. “You’re making a mess on my lap. I fucking love how sopping your pussy gets. So greedy for my cock.”
“Jack,” I whimpered, lungs burning.
“What do you need, dove?” He grunted, sucking my nipple into his mouth, surely leaving a bruise that I’d see tomorrow. Some people woke up to love notes on their pillows. I woke up to the physical evidence of Jack’s dominance—and I wouldn’t have it any other way. “You were such a good girl today, not complaining when I edged you in public. Tell me how you want to come.”
“Around your cock,” I pled, yanking at his hair, holding him to my breast. “I want you to feel it when I orgasm, then I want you to finish inside me.”
Without hesitation, he lifted me off him as if I weighed nothing and situated me so that I was lying face up over the arm of the chair, my butt and legs dangling off the side. I looked down my torso at him, trying to get my bearings.
That was how it always was with Jack. He could do what he wanted—because everything he wanted felt so damn good—and it was up to me to take whatever he had to give. At times, like tonight, he gave more. Other times, not so much. I lived for nights like this. When the world stopped spinning, everyone and everything disappearing apart from us. We were drawn together like magnets, fiery passion raging wherever our bodies met.
“I missed you so much, Jack.” Tears sprang to my eyes. I hadn’t realized just how much his absence would pain me—the weight of it was lonely and cold. Now, I could breathe again. After two long, grueling weeks, oxygen blessed my lungs, stretching them to their fullest extent.
Jack pressed his lips to the dip between my collarbones, playing with the charm on my necklace. He twirled the miniature handcuffs around his tongue, sliding inside me with ease. We gasped in tandem, my channel stretching to accommodate him.
“Without you,” he murmured against my skin, emerald eyes boring into mine, “I may as well be six feet underground.”
Chapter Sixteen
Emma
The following morning, I awoke bright and early. A lazy grin plastered itself to my face as I showered, getting ready for the day. Jack was exercising and I decided not to bother him until I had brushed my teeth, at the very least.
Ella texted me as I exited the rainfall shower, inquiring about the night before.
U gonna explain the glitter?
My sister had covered for me, but her assistance had come with a price—the truth.
I danced at a strip club. Jack wasn’t too happy about it.
Her reply was instantaneous.
Surprised he didn’t spank U.
My cheeks heated. Jack would never lay a hand on me like that—his form of punishment was both forcing and denying orgasms—but Ella didn’t need to know the specifics of my sex life. I cleared my throat, fingers flying over the keyboard.
Don’t give him any ideas.
I laughed aloud when her text emerged.
Gross. He’s hot but…gross.
Dressed in jeans and a thin blouse, I followed the sound of weights dropping. At the frosted glass entrance to Jack’s home gym, I paused, careful not to alert him to my presence.
Apparently, I had been wrong about Jack losing weight. With a snug pair of training sweats wrapped low on his hips, he was still my strong, toned Jack. Beads of sweat ran down his powerful back and sculpted abs, his hair dripping with exertion. He had AirPods in, lost in thought despite sprinting at over ten miles an hour. I knew the routine well enough to recognize his cool down, so I decided to make him breakfast. I wasn’t much of a cook, but an omelet didn’t sound too complicated—crack a few eggs, throw them in a pan. Besides, I needed something more productive to do than stare at him.
I found a carton of eggs and some pans, which was a miracle because I’d never cooked for Jack before and the kitchen was huge—state of the art, with all the fancy gadgets and gizmos. Jack could be a professional chef if he wanted, but I was sure it wasn’t as lucrative as running a criminal enterprise.
As I made breakfast, my thoughts strayed to Eoghan’s lab and, in particular, the little tracking chip that was hidden in an old sock at my apartment. Hopefully, Eoghan wouldn’t notice its disappearance. They were so small that one of them going missing wasn’t inconceivable.
“What on earth are you doing?”
I spun around, spatula in hand, as Jack strode into the kitchen, eyes wide in alarm. His skin glistened from exercise, but he wiped it away with a hand towel before tossing it into the sink.
“Cooking breakfast,” I replied. “I wanted to do something nice after you got me the cronuts.”
