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I squeezed my dick tighter, working my hand over the head, using my precum to slick my way. I lifted my hips from the bed, pumping into the circle of my fingers. I was so close. I imagined Jacob’s mouth around me, sucking, holding himself in place even when I drove all the way in, when I made him gag and sputter around me, when I made tears run from his eyes. He wouldn’t care. He’d let me use him anyway I wanted to and beg for more. That was why I couldn’t let this be real.
Cum shot from my cock again and again, making a mess of my chest and abdomen. It was a while before I could breathe easily, and it was only then I realized how loud I must have been at the end. I’d forgotten Jacob was right next door. Had he heard, or was he already asleep?
11
JACOB
Ilaid in bed, muscles tense, trying to ignore the sounds coming through the wall. It had to be Grant. I hadn’t heard anyone else, no other voices, no second set of footsteps coming down the hall, and the sounds were coming from his room. I was sure of it.
I’d heard Rhys and Rogue come in before those delicious moans filtered through the wall to me, but neither of their rooms shared a wall with mine, and I hadn’t heard a sound from them. I assumed they’d fallen asleep quickly.
If no one else was with Grant—and I prayed that was true—he was jerking off and making it so good for himself that he groaned with pleasure the way he had when he was buried deep inside me.
I wanted to believe he was thinking of me, of that crazy night in his truck. That was certainly all I could think of. My ass ached to have him inside me again, and my cock was so hard I was sure thrusting against the sheets a few times would be all I needed to make myself come. But I resisted the urge. I wanted to hold back until I was sure I’d heard everything I could from Grant’s room.
What I really wanted to do was go next door and show him how hard he made me. I wanted to beg him for more, even though the last thing I needed was to get involved with Grant or anyone else. I needed to take care of my cock—and my future—by myself.
I threw back the covers and made my way to the bathroom as quietly as I could. By the time I had the shower going, I was so worked up from imagining Grant jerking off that I came within seconds of wrapping my hand around my dick.
The release hit me hard enough to make my knees buckle. I leaned against the wall, hoping it would hold me up as I gasped for breath. The warm water pelted my overly sensitive skin, but I didn’t have the energy to move out of the spray.
All I’d done was imagine Grant lying there in bed, his powerful body naked, his hand touching his cock like I’d just touched mine, yet I was completely drained. Just the thought of him left me weak. How could I even think about being with him all the time?
I remembered how unsteady I’d been that night when I’d walked back into the bar after he’d fucked the hell out of me. Grant had the power to utterly wreck me. The problem was, I wanted to be wrecked.
How was I going to face him in the morning? I’d told myself I wasn’t going to think about fucking him anymore. I’d tried to put that night from my mind, then there he was, in the next room, making those erotic sounds and driving me fucking crazy.
Why did he have to be so damn sexy? It had been bad enough at the bar, but seeing him as a dirty, sweaty cowboy, knowing about his dark side, knowing he could probably kill me with his pinky but all he wanted to do was keep me safe, was just… I sighed. It was more than anyone should have to take.
I rinsed myself off and managed to stumble back to bed.
Sleep came more easily than I’d expected, but the ring of the alarm the next morning felt as though it came mere minutes after I’d closed my eyes. I got up immediately, fighting the grogginess. If I got moving, I might be able to have breakfast made before Grant showed up in the kitchen. If I could bring my plate to my room or outside, I might avoid seeing him and blushing so hard he’d worry I was going to catch fire.
I wasn’t fast enough. As I began pouring pancake batter on the griddle, I heard the door open, and someone entered from the back deck. I knew it was Grant without looking. My body was far too attuned to him.
“Morning.” His low, rich voice sent heat rushing through me.
I forced myself to look over my shoulder at him, not wanting him to realize anything was wrong. That turned out to be a mistake. He was wearing jeans so worn I couldn’t believe they held up against the strain of his thighs or the bulge between them, and oh shit…
Heat rushed up my neck and into my face. I was staring at his crotch, and he was just standing there. I raised my eyes, and… yes, he was watching me.
His expression was neutral. Was he trying not to smile? Was he angry? Of course he could hide what he was thinking. Damn him for being a special-forces, cowboy, criminal superhero. There was no point in me even trying to keep anything from him. I might as well just tell him I was obsessed with him and beg him to send me somewhere else where I’d be safe.
“Morning. I’m… uh… making pancakes.”
He cleared his throat before he spoke. “That’s great. I’m starving.”
Yeah, me too.
“There’s coffee ready and sausage. If you want to go ahead and get started.” I avoided eye contact by turning back to the griddle to test the pancakes. Thankfully, I hadn’t burned them while staring at the thick bulge between his legs. No false promises there, he was every bit as big as he looked. I bit my lip to hold in a moan.
“I’ll just get myself some coffee.” His words were strained. Was there any chance he was thinking along the same lines I was?
I flipped the first round of pancakes onto a plate and poured more pancake batter onto the pan. I tried to ignore Grant, but I swore I could feel the heat of him as he moved closer. I should have offered to grab a cup for him because he had to walk behind me, fitting himself between my body and the counter.
I shifted, trying to avoid making contact with him, but I misjudged and caught my foot against the lower edge of the cabinet. I hit the handle of the griddle pan. Batter slid off the edge, making a mess on the stovetop as Grant’s hands came to my waist, steadying me.
Why was I such a disaster? “I’m so sorry.”
