I nod, already too scared to open my mouth. I grip his biceps as he pushes inside me, the terror of what we’re doing andwherewe’re doing it only adding to the pleasure.
“Christ, Ada,” he mutters. “I can’t believe?—”
I bury my face in his neck and bite until he stops talking. His two fingers curl inside me, and I almost choke. I’m fuller than I’ve ever been.
And it’s not even his cock, I think dumbly.Oh my God, what’s his cock going to be like?
His thumb finds my clit, rasping it lightly as he pumps, and I know I’m going to come in a ride-share. As I shudder my way through the world’s quietest orgasm, Jake’s breathing gets louder. Marlon Williams is singing on the radio, and I am melting from the inside out. Jake tilts me backward, looking into my face as I come. It’s so bright and hot it sends my orgasm into overtime. I chew my lip to keep from screaming. I was hoping to get there at the Airbnb, but goddamn Jake Graves-Holland is an overachiever.
The car pulls over, and the thought flashes through me:I want him to destroy me. Then I remember why I’m here. Revenge. What if some of the stags are already inside the massive four-story mansion? What will they say? What willIsay?
Jake lifts me from the car, and I’m instantly as worked up as I was before I came.
He carries me to the house, kissing me the whole way, and unlocks the door, punching a code into a little metal pad while his lips and teeth work across my neck and collarbone.
I grip his hair and moan into his ear. “Talented.”
“You just fuckin’wait,” he pants, pushing the door wide.
The house is empty, I know it as soon as I’m inside. It’s too flat. Too quiet. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I squirm out of Jake’s grasp and look around. The place has gleaming hardwood floors and pristine white marble counters, insanely upmarket—but the sprawling living area is littered with empty beer bottles and upturned plates I highly doubt were used for food. Through the towering floor-to-ceiling windows, I make out the silhouettes of palm trees and the glimmer of a pool.
“Over here.” Jake grabs my hand and pulls me left.
I consider stopping and asking him to fuck me on the enormous L-shaped couch, but before I can suggest it, he lifts me again, carrying me into the dark of his temporary bedroom. It’s clean and neat; the bed made, a leather travel bag tucked in the corner. The air smells like his cologne; sharp and expensive.
“Music?” I gasp as he moves us toward the bed. “Drinks?”
He growls like I’m wasting his time, laying me on his sheets and walking backward as though determined to look at me for as long as possible. “I’ll get a bottle. You pick the songs.”
I dig through my tote for my phone and throw on my old sex playlist; music I loved before Name Forever Redacted. SZA blares through my phone’s internal speakers, and I place it on the bedside table, kicking off my Reeboks and yanking my crop top over my head. Ishouldbe looking for clues on how best to demolish this place. Instead, I finger-comb my hair. Wet my lips. Recline on the bed and arrange myself on one hip, angling my shoulders so my tits are even. Jake bursts through the door like an angry bear and almost drops the tequila. “Fuck me…”
I reach toward the bottle. “I need that.”
His eyes go all obsidian-black. The bottle clunks to the carpeted floor. “I’ll tell you what you fuckin’ need…”
Lust surges through me, pooling wet between my legs. It’s overwhelming. I want to press for the bottle, but Jake’s mouth closes over my right nipple. I need to be in top form for my reve?—
“Oh my God! Uhhh!”
“Yeah,” Jake mutters, tearing my shorts down my legs. “That’s right. Fuck, you smell amazing.”
My invisible shields pulse a warning. Whatever is happening is dangerously close to something they can’t block.
Noted.Sex, then revenge. I know the drill.
I’m okay with kissing him again. I’m okay with his fingers sliding back under my panties. But when Jake moves along my body, lowering his face between my legs, I push his forehead away.
“What?” he demands. “I wanna?—”
“I don’t let random dudes lick my pussy.”
It’s a lie. I love oral. I think men who don’t do it should hang. But I can’t bear the thought of Jake Graves-Holland tasting me. I haven’t showered in the last… Five minutes… And Jake going down on me would make me feel exposed in a way coming all over his hand and probably destroying his Uber rating didn’t.
He makes a grumpy noise, but complies, settling back on top of me and kissing my neck, my cheek, the corner of my mouth.
“Disappointed?” I ask.
“Nah. I’ll talk you ’round.”
