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“Well, do something to make me feel better!” I was so tired of feeling awful, of going through hell in hand basket. All of this was just too much, and it was all his fault.
Jack approached me, and I could see tears in his clothes that revealed parts of his well-chiseled chest.Well, there’s at least one thing he could do to make me feel better.I couldn’t believe myself for fantasizing about what he could do to me.Stop it!
“We’re going to die,” he repeated.
“You’re the worst,” I said. “Just get away from me.”
He laughed. “Is this how you imagined yourself dying?”
“What, doyouthink about it?” I couldn’t believe that this guy wasn’t even trying to make me feel better.
“Yeah.” He shrugged. “I deal with it all the time. Dying is my job.”
“What do you mean?”At least this guy’s not boring.
“I do the Reed Mafia’s bidding. I’m their iron fist, Reed’s top lieutenant.”
Jack fell quiet. It was pretty sexy, how he had this mystique about him, and the idea of having him turned me on.
I mean, we’re going to die anyways. Why not?
I had to do something. I never thought of myself as the kind of girl who made a move on a man, but the fact that we were probably going to die here had me throwing any kind of caution out the window and I leaned in. Instead of recoiling away from me, Jack surprised me. He put his arm around me. I laid my head on his shoulder.
“Why do things have to be so hard?” I asked. There was a warm sensation between my legs, and I couldn’t help myself. I placed my hand on his knee.
Jack got up. He took off his shirt, and I saw the faint outlines of his manhood as he stretched. Dear god, his body was amazing. The scars on his chest were numerous, his tattoos were wonderful, and I had to have him now.Does he want me?
He seemed to notice me staring.
“You’re not bad on the eyes either, Emma,” he said, in that smooth voice tinged with desire.
We didn’t hold back.
One minute, he was shirtless in front of me, the next, I was in his arms, with our mouths locked in a passionate kiss. His hot breath came in jagged edges, and his hands were confidently feeling me up and down.
He had no fear of me, only desire and lust.
I felt the same way. After years of disappointing men, I had something I’d only dreamed about, inspired by what I’d seen in movies, except this was real.
His powerful arms lifted me up, and I giggled with excitement.
He was an animal, the kind that gave me everything I’d ever wanted during sex and more.
He got my clothes off like a candy wrapper and he treated my body like it was the most delicious meal he had ever eaten. I moaned in passion, and he took me.
Somehow, he had placed all of his clothes right where we would make unbridled love. His passion was unfettered, and there was no stopping him. I didn’t want him to.
Grunting and moaning, we both had our much desired last meal. If we were going to die, why not experience orgasmic pleasure?
And he did get me there, not once, not twice, but three times.
It was all a blur. I couldn’t remember ever experiencing this kind of ecstasy in my life. I had seen what the afterworld was like, and this man was the gatekeeper. He pleased me in ways I had never dared to imagine.
We felt every part of each other’s bodies. His hard physique against my soft, pale, luscious body was the kind of contrast that great masterpieces are made of.
Afterward, we laid in each other’s arms, his chest slowly backing down in ragged breaths. I had to be still; there was no other way to process everything I had just experienced.
He didn’t say a word to me, and he was quickly asleep.
