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In a flash, Jaxon is beside me, crouching on the floor next to me, gathering me up in his arms. Holding me tightly. Kissing my hair, my temple, my forehead. Rubbing circles on my back. Pressing my cheek to his chest, his racing heart pulsing in my ear.
“It’s okay, baby girl, let it all out.”
Right there in the café, he holds me as I cry, sobbing wretchedly against his shirt. I don’t even know why I’m crying, not really. I mean, I guess it’s a culmination of everything that’s happened in the past twenty-four hours or so, rather than any one thing, but still. I feel stupid. Embarrassed. I shouldn’t be crying. I wish I wasn’t. But I can’t stop.
Jaxon doesn’t say a word; he just kneels there next to me and holds me, comforting me with his presence, letting me know that I’m not alone.
Gently, he picks up my sore hand, the one I punched the interior of the car with. My knuckles are still red and swollen, bruised, and he brings my hand to his lips, kissing my sore knuckles softly. His tenderness makes me cry even harder. Nobody has ever taken care of me like this before. Sure, I had access to everything money could buy. I had freedom, friends, material things, credit cards. But I’d never had this. I’d never had a strong man holding me tight, comforting me, reassuring me the way Jaxon was doing right now. I’d never been made accountable for my actions and had rules enforced before. I’d never had someone who actually cared. As Jaxon continues to hold me, to rock me slightly, rubbing my back, it occurs to me that this isn’t a pretence at caring. Jaxon isn’t just doing his job. His care is real.
CHAPTER 13
Jaxon
I don’t know what it was that made Jade cry at the café, but whatever it was, it made something shift within her. Her attitude is so different now. Both toward me, and in general. The meal we shared was pleasant. We genuinely seemed to enjoy each other’s company. She didn’t complain about the lack of alcohol. And now that we’re heading back to the airport, leaving Auckland city behind, she isn’t complaining about that, either. She seems to have matured, somehow. I don’t know why, or how, or what triggered it, but I’m glad.
Best of all, there’s no sign of the white sedan. I’m fairly confident we lost them at the mall. I was keeping an eye out for any sign of them during the meal—long after Jade had forgotten about them—and I didn’t see them at all. Hopefully that means we’re in the clear.
She hasn’t called meDaddyagain, but I know that it’s only a matter of time. I’ve never met a woman who needs a daddy more than Jade does. She needs everything I can offer her, boththe guidance and the protection. The care. She needs me. And I think she knows it.
I want to kiss her. I want to claim her. To make her mine. Toshowher that she’s mine. I want to see how she will respond when she’s in my arms, my mouth on hers, my lips tasting hers so hungrily. I need to know if she wants to be mine, or if she will resist. Because if she resists, if she doesn’t want there to be anything between us, I want to know now, before I fall for her any further. And if that happens, I’ll take a step back and keep things strictly professional.
So I pull the car over in a rest area. It’s high on a hill, overlooking much of the city and in full view of the airport so we can watch the planes take off and come in to land. I turn off the engine. It’s a pretty awesome view from up here and we sit here in silence for a few moments, slightly awkwardly, just looking out over the city. Slowly, I turn in my seat to face her. I’m a ball of nerves. Very deliberately, I take off my seatbelt so I have a full range of movement. She copies me. Maybe it’s my imagination, but I think she knows what I have planned. The chemistry inside the car is electric, with sparks flying through the air. The sexual tension has ramped up about two hundred notches. I’m struggling to draw the thick air into my lungs. My heart pounds. I reach out for her, my palms clammy and my fingers trembling slightly. The tips of my fingers touch her cheek softly, slide down to the corner of her mouth. I trace the outline of her lips with my thumb, the very place I want to kiss. There’s a tightening in my chest as I lean forward. This could all go so horribly wrong.
She leans forward at the same time I do. Passion burns brightly in her eyes, her lips are slightly parted, her breathing is ragged. Our noses bump awkwardly and she giggles. My hand slips behind her neck, pulling her face closer to mine. Slowly, softly,our lips touch. Just the barest of grazes at first, but they connect again, harder this time, my mouth crushing hers hungrily, and she’s returning my kiss with the same urgent intensity. Sparks crackle between us. Her tongue probes my lips apart, exploring my mouth. She reaches behind me, tangling her fingers in my hair at the nape of my neck, pulling me closer. There’s a strength in her hands that I didn’t know she had, as she tugs my head down, pressing her mouth harder against mine.
My hand slips down her body, inside her shirt, my fingers dipping inside the lacy edges of her bra to fondle her breasts. They’re more than a large handful, and they’re absolutely perfect. Weighty. Firm. She gasps against my mouth.
“Kiss me, Daddy,” she begs, her voice little more than a whisper.
“Yes, baby girl,” I whisper back, as my lips meet hers once again.
My cock is hard, throbbing, straining against my jeans. As much as I’m enjoying this kiss, it’s not enough. I want more. I want so much more.
I kiss her harder, deeper, more urgently. My hands are around her; one is squeezing her breast, the other is tangled in her hair. I can’t let her go. I can’t bear even the thought of it.
She shifts closer to me, climbing over the gear stick and handbrake in the middle of the car so she’s right on top of me, her lips not moving from mine for even a second. I’ve never been kissed like this before, so passionately. I don’t think I’ve ever kissed anyone quite this fervently, either. She’s still holding onto me, one arm wrapped around my neck, her hand gripping the back of it, and her other hand slips down to my pants, rubbing my cock through my jeans. Without breaking our kiss, she fumbles with the zip and button on my jeans, freeing myerection. She wraps her hand around my thick shaft, gripping tightly.
I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want Jade. But at the same time, I’m acutely aware of the power imbalance between us, and I really don’t want to take advantage of her. I’m not, am I?
I pull away from her, let go of her boob, hold her face in my hands, gaze into her eyes that are sparkling with lust. She looks annoyed to be interrupted, for our kiss to be broken, but I don’t care. This is important. She doesn’t let go of my cock.
“You do want this, right?” I ask, wincing at the desperation I can hear in my tone.
“Yes, Daddy,” she whispers, tugging my face down again, mashing her lips against mine, stroking my hard cock. “I do want this. I want more, too. I want you to fuck me. I want to be yours.”
“I want you to be mine, too, little girl. But I have to know. I don’t want to take advantage of you.” My tone is serious, but the look she gives me is anything but. It’s sexy, playful, flirtatious.
“But I want you to take advantage of me,” she says quietly, sexily. To show me, she tugs on my cock. If she keeps this up, I’m going to embarrass myself. “I can’t think of anything I want more.” She smiles at me, licks her lips, and tugs at the collar of my shirt. “I want you to take proper advantage of me, Daddy. Right here, right now. In this car.”
She leans down, lowers her mouth to my cock, licks the bead of pre-cum from off the top of it, sweeps her tongue up and down my shaft, then wraps her lips around it, sucking me deep into her mouth. I moan, deep in my throat. Damn, this feels good.
Jade looks up at me, my cock still in her mouth. She grins devilishly, then kisses her way from the base of my balls all the way to the tip of my cock.
“Take me, Daddy,” she commands, her voice husky, throaty.
I grip her chin, tilting her face up to look at me. “I’m not going to make love to you in the car, baby girl,” I tell her softly. “I want our first time together to be comfortable. Romantic. Nice. Not hurriedly, in the back seat of a car in a public carpark, when we’re rushing to get to the airport. I want better than that for you, baby girl.”
Straight away, she lets go of my cock and gets off me, shifting back to her seat. She’s angry. Hurt. Rejected? It’s hard to tell. I know she’s pouting, I can see that much. But she keeps her head down and refuses to look at me.
