AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Holding me there, making me struggle, making me swallow, he pulls out and shoves in. My mouth’s full of saliva and it drips, I can feel it soak my chin, my cheeks, my throat, my chest. Soak my dress.
“Oh, fuck, MG. Pure fucking stellar filth.” He keeps hammering in. And then he comes. Hard. Fast. Hitting the back of my throat. “Suck hard.”
I do and he grips my hair tight, moving me back and forth, his body shaking.
When he’s done, he staggers back, pulling out.
I cough and splutter.
“Your fucking mouth, MG. Christ.”
Jac pulls me up, and I’m a wet, dripping mess, and he kisses me. It’s a strange kiss, loving, hard, deep, wild, brutal and soft. It’s a kiss I’ll dream of. It’s a kiss that makes me tremble and the world shift.
He lifts his head. “You look gorgeous like this. You always look gorgeous, but this…fuck.”
Jac is breathing hard, struggling. Like he wants to say more, but he can’t find the words.
Then he kisses and licks my ear. “Pick up the fucking gift.”
“No.”
“It’s an apology.”
“It’s a buy-off.”
“You’re ungrateful.”
“I don’t wear jewelry.”
“I know,” he says. “It’s why I got them.”
“You know you’re fucked up, right?” I ask.
“I know that. And you?”
“Need to be going.”
It’s both the right and the wrong thing to say to him. Because it’s the equivalent of pushing fingers through fur in the opposite direction to growth. He isn’t sure he likes it, but I’ve got his attention and it riles.
“Sure you do, MG.” He picks me up like I’m nothing, and there’s a clatter as one of my shoes hits the stone floor. He then dumps me in the chair near the door and pushes my thighs up and over the sides, and he looks down at me, a small frown marring his perfection. “Too many clothes.”
“Do not ruin this dress.”
He grins, runs a finger along the low but decent neckline. “I’ll get you another.”
Jac tests the fabric, hooking that finger in and pulling it out toward him, and he nods, seemingly delighted with the give.
There’s a rule I have with clothes apart from evening wear. Stretch and movement ready. My job isn’t exactly a nine-to-five. And even gowns usually have something akin to give, like the easy release of the dress I wore to the gala, skirts with slits, hidden or otherwise.
Of course, it works against me, like at the gala. Like here.
Because all Jac does is push the straps down along with my bra. He has my arms in a light bind that way, and my breast exposed.
“I’m going to do this.” He pauses. “Can I?”
I blink in confusion. Was heaskingfor consent? Jac, of all people? “Can I stop you?”
His gaze hits mine for a moment, and I can read theyes.
