I let my head fall back against the seat and I shut my eyes as he continues his sweet assault. The leather seat makes tight noises as he shifts his body heavier against me. His fingers brush the hem of my dress, seeking a path up my thighs, so I spread my legs, ever so slightly, granting him access. A rush of air passes my lips as he slides his fingers up to my center and brushes them over the thin scrap of white lace.
And then I remember where we are. On a busy street. In a car.
My eyes shoot open and I grip his wrist. I push hard, stilling it against my thigh. My resistance is met by his teeth biting firmly into my nipple. Fucker!
“Stop,” I hiss through gritted teeth, ignoring the way my hips subtly flex into his hand.
Jackson shakes his head and I wince as he pulls my nipple along with it. I grip his hair, much like I did to the stranger in the club, and squeeze until he releases me. With full control over his head, I tilt his face in my direction, until the tip of his nose almost touches mine. I planned to tell him off, to chastise him for not being gentle when he knows I hate my nipples being touched, but when his excited breath washes over me and his fingers twitch against the apex of my thighs, I lose all sense. I crush my lips to his and moan deep in the base of my throat as he opens his mouth and lets me inside. He kind of tastes like bourbon and sugar. I’ve never tasted anything so intoxicating. I’ve had a few drinks tonight and have barely felt a buzz. It’s only taken a single kiss from him and my head is already spinning.
He’s on me in a second, pushing me flat on my back and hard against the backseat. I notice his hands are no longer between my legs only when he snakes one up my forearm and uses it to squeeze my wrists until I release his hair. Usually, he has to pry my fingers from his hair, but tonight, I’ll let him have it his way.
After retrieving my other hand from his hair, Jackson pins my hands above my head and pulls away from my mouth. Cool air rushes to soothe my burning lips and I run my tongue to help as Jackson gives me a pointed look—a warning. The threat is clear in his curved brow, but it doesn’t settle with me. I’m too excited—too wound up not to fight him. He loves it when I fight him and his refusal to speak is really turning me on. Normally, Jackson utters naughty, dirty things in my ear when he’s trying to wind me up, but tonight, he’s barely said a word. And I fucking love it.
“Ooh,” I tease, smiling wolfishly. “You’re not talking to me? No swearing? No demands?”
His beautiful, kiss-swollen lips twitch at the corners and he swings his heavy leg over my body, pinning the lower half of me under his weight. I struggle against his grip on my wrists, but his large hands have me completely locked in place. Freeing one of his hands, he reaches into the pocket on the back of the passenger seat. From it, he pulls a thin, black sash. I recognize it immediately as the sash we used when I let him tie me to a tree when we went on a secret camping trip after Vegas. That weekend was supposed to be our last rendezvous—the final fuck. Yeah, a lot of good that did.
“You made me jealous,” he states as he admires the cloth.
I find my eyes locked on it too, in awe of the myriad of emotions a little black strip of fabric can conjure.
Curiosity.
Excitement.
Fear.
In all of the games Jackson and I have played, making him jealous was his only hard limit—besides anal play, obviously. It’s a hard limit I didn’t realize affected him so much…until after I flirted with Don and kissed Seth in Vegas. I learned that night. I learned jealousy is something Jackson doesn’t like to endure and for good reason, I’m sure.
“Unintentionally,” I say, shifting uncomfortably.
“Still, the feeling was there.” He leans forward and wraps the cloth around my wrist—over and over again. “You pushed my hard limit and now I’m going to push yours.”
“My nipples? Really? You can’t play with something else?”
With a smirk, he shakes his head and I watch as he ties the sash around the slight gap in the arm rest on the door, keeping me in place. My entire body trembles with anticipation as he lowers his face closer to mine. His stare dances over the bridge of my nose and down to my lips. I moisten them for added pleasure and his eyes flare before descending onto my throat. I feel his fingers next, as they brush against my windpipe, and soon after, his warm hand firmly grips my throat.
“Before I start, I have a question for you.”
I arc a brow. Why can’t all questions start this way? “Shoot.”
“I’m fighting tomorrow night. Come watch me.”
Fighting? Tomorrow? I’m not sure if I should be happy for him or concerned that this seems like it’s becoming a regular thing. I really enjoy watching two ripped, half naked men fight, but the thought of Jackson getting hurt doesn’t sit well with me and I’m certain the place he’ll be fighting is nothing like the places Seth fought. I wonder if it’ll even have chairs for the spectators.
“That doesn’t sound like a question,” I state, buying time.
His lips spasm at the corner. He wants to smile, but doesn’t. “Do you want to? Watch me?”
I search his eyes, suddenly soft and caring. “Do you want me to watch you?”
He nods, almost shyly, and I can’t help the smile that spreads across my mouth.
“We’ll see,” I say, teasingly. “If you make me happy, I’ll make you happy.”
Jackson’s dark eyes flare. He doesn’t need any further explanation and almost immediately, I feel him dragging his fingers up my inner thigh. I inhale sharply as the very tip of his index finger slips underneath my pathetic excuse for underwear and he brushes it over my entrance. I sigh as he strokes me beautifully, collecting all of my juices. When he’s happy with how wet his simple touch makes me, he lightly slips it between my creases and slides it up and down before finally sticking it inside. My lips part as a heavy breath flows through. Slowly, Jackson moves his finger in and out, and I all but beg for him to give me more. “Mmm…yeah. I like that.”
I roll my hips onto his finger, forcing him to move quicker. I shut my eyes and tilt my head back, and even though I’m not looking at him, I can feel his eyes on my face, watching everything I do.
“I bet that feels good, doesn’t it? You fucking like my finger inside you, huh?”
Oh god, not the naughty talk. I can barely last two minutes when his rough voice is speaking in my ear. I find myself nodding, eagerly, and Jackson adds a second finger, increasing the pressure. I shudder with fevered heat, moving my hips even faster and as his technique lifts me higher and higher, I can’t help but vocalize the way his fingers are making me feel. “Fuck, yes. That’s it. Don’t stop. For the love of God, please don’t stop.”
And he doesn’t.
Jackson
“Another,” she manages in a tight voice. “More.”
I slip a third finger into her, barely able to fit it, and her entire body shivers. Her shivers are my favorite part of sex, or anything of the sexual nature, with her. I watch as her head slips further back, her lips part, and her back arches. Her chest rises and falls quickly and I feel her clamp down on my fingers. Her throat exposed, I lean forward and run my tongue along its length. With a shudder, she manages to slip her hands free. She grips my shirt in one of her hands and squeezes tightly as the soft husky sound of her sort-of-quiet orgasm races through her.
Her pant fills the car and my own adds to the mix as I pull my fingers from her and caress her thigh instead. In this moment, I truly feel at peace. In this moment, there’s nothing in the world that can possible fuck with me. Maybe this is what love feels like. Is it security? Is it happiness? Is it about being comfortable? Is it lust? What is love? If it’s all of the above, then I’m fucking crazy about Selena and, it’s possible, I have been this whole time.
Before I know it, the words are up my throat and falling from my lips before I even have the chance to register them.
“I love you,” I whisper against the burning skin of her throat.
I pause, w
ondering how the fuck I came to that conclusion and if it was loud enough for her to hear. It wasn’t. It was just for me. She continues to pant, unbothered by my confession and suddenly, my revolutionary breakthrough doesn’t seem so great without her knowing. I open my mouth to say it louder, until a tap on the window and a bright flashlight in my face stops the declaration dead in my throat.
“Keep moving,” the unknown person orders.
I squint until he puts the flashlight away. Then, I see the police badge shining underneath the street light.
“Time to go,” Selena pants, inching her dress down her thighs. Pushing away from me, she slips between the seats and drops into the passenger side, but I take a few minutes to clear my head in the backseat. This is it. The moment I changed my life. The moment I completely let Amelia go. If someone told me a year ago, I’d love someone else, I wouldn’t have believed them. I truly believed Amelia was the only girl for me. I swore that I would never love another woman, yet, here I am. In love again and it’s with someone who, dare I say, is healthy for me. I trust Selena. I know Selena and now…now I love Selena.
Her green irises peer over her seat. “You coming?”
Her smile is both wide and lazy and I can’t help but smile back. “Yeah.”
She turns back to the front and I sit up before opening the back door and switch from the back seat to the driver’s seat. Fishing the keys from my pocket, I look at Selena, who watches me back.
“What?” She giggles. “Why are you staring?”
I stick my keys in the ignition and turn. My truck roars to life, its intensity matching how I feel inside. “No reason.”
With a wide smile, I put it in drive, pull onto the street, and hit the gas. We don’t talk for the rest of the trip. She watches the trees and buildings whipping past, and I keep replaying what happened over and over in my head.
It’s not long before I drop her at her home and head back in the direction of my place. I need to clear my head some more before I get her hopes up. I don’t know if I’ll see her tomorrow. All I know is, I told her I loved her and I’m ninety-eight percent sure I meant it.
Chapter Eight
Jackson
Once again, a large thud upstairs sends dust raining down on me, coating my black wraps as I attempt to dress my hands for the fight. Cursing under my breath, I shake it off and try again. I shouldn’t be fighting. My head isn’t in the right place and every time the door opens, I jump, thinking it could be Amelia. She has to know I’m here. God knows they announced it loud enough.
Seth warned me about coming back to the underground club, but I need the money. Selena needs someone who can take care of her the way her father has. She has everything she could possibly need and the thought of her settling for less makes me ill.
Selena said she’d come, but that was before the police officer interrupted us in the car while I had my fingers deep inside her. I’d been gentle, kind even. My fingers moved with sweet purpose and swift benevolence, matching the tempo of my lips. I’ve never touched Selena like that before. With her, it’s always been animalistic—always rough and uncaring—but last night, something else came over me. I wanted her to see how badly I need her in my life. I wanted her to see how serious I am about keeping her. I even shocked myself when I whispered my love for her into the nape of her neck. She didn’t hear me, not over her labored breathing, but I said it. Against her burning skin, I told her I loved her. Once I said it the first time, I was prepared to say it again, only louder the next time. That was when the nosy police officer flashed his light on us and knocked on the window. Our intimate moment was gone and my thoughts were sent scattering. When I woke up this morning, I was glad she didn’t hear me. That’s not how it should’ve went down. I want her to be looking directly into my eyes when I tell her. I want to gauge every reaction and analyze every word. You can tell a lot about your relationship by the way your girl reacts when you tell her you love her. Amelia would get a smugness about her whenever I said it, like she was entitled to my love. I need to see, in bright light, that Selena will be different, that she’ll appreciate it when it finally falls from my lips. Last night was proof to me that I can finally let my past go. I know now I have someone who’s willing to help me and will support me no matter what. After everything we’ve been through, I know I can trust Selena more than I’ve ever trusted Amelia and that’s all I can ask for.
Another hard slam thunders above me and dust coats my sweat-tainted skin. I swipe my forearm over my forehead and wince when my arm touches my brow. It’s still sore. The wound is closed up, but tender, and it’s not going to take much to reopen again. I unwrap my hand and try, for the fourth time, to wrap it properly. As I pinch the fabric in my palm and flick the tail over my hand, the door rattles before shooting open and slamming into the dirty bricks. I stop and watch, waiting for a mangled body to be dumped in a heap on the floor, instead, I see Seth’s unimpressed face as he peers in through the door and locates me on the other side of the room. A wide smile cracks my features. I never heard back from him. I assumed Olivia didn’t let him out to watch me fight. She’s always been weird when it comes to fighting, like a frightened little mouse.
“Remind me to call my doctor for a Hep shot when we get out of here,” Darryl comments as he steps into the room. “Plain nasty.”
His screwed features scan over the room, over each puddle of wet and dry blood before falling onto me. “Do you have a death wish?” he asks, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his black slacks. I look him up and down, taking in his orange polo and white baseball cap. “And look at that cut on your eyebrow. What is wrong with you?”
I roll my eyes. “Thanks for coming, Darryl.”
“I almost didn’t,” he states. “But when Seth told me what you’re doing, I had to see for myself.”
If Seth thinks Darryl is going to be the one to talk me out of this, he’s mistaken.
After a long hard stare, Seth finally forces the rest of his body into the room. He takes it all in, analyzing each beam, barred window and dodgy light bulb in the room. Stopping next to Darryl, he folds his arms tightly over his chest, his red shirt tightening around his biceps.
“Seems like an honorable place to die,” Seth says to Darryl before his dark brown irises land on me.
I shrug. I’ve never been afraid of death. Many times I’ve welcomed it. Hell, at one point or another, I’ve even begged for it. “Dying doing what you love is worth it.”
“I can’t disagree with that,” Darryl says, sauntering closer. He holds out his hand, and as I stand up, I take it. With a firm slap on the shoulder, he pulls me in for a quick hug, then releases me. “You’ll be fine as long as you protect that eyebrow. One tap and that baby is going to open right up.” He pauses and takes a closer look at my cut. “I’m surprised it’s even holding. Who the hell put it back together with butterfly stitches? It needs to be properly stitched with needle and thread in order for it to heal smoothly.”
I release his hand and sit back down on my dilapidated stool. “I didn’t have time to go to the ER”
“Didn’t have time to, or were too afraid to?” Seth teases and I glare at him.
He knows about my fear of hospitals and needles. Even when it comes time for a tattoo I can’t watch the artist set up the gun. It gives me the nervous sweats. If I’m lucky, I can usually get away with being drunk while I’m getting tattooed. Not recommended, but try and stop me. Drunkenness doesn’t lessen the pain, but it gives you the confidence to endure it and helps you forget a hell of a lot quicker.
“The bets on you upstairs are high.”
Ignoring Seth, I look at Darryl with an arched eyebrow. “Win or lose?”
“Win, but they’re going to regret it once they see your brow.”
Not my problem. “And the pool? What do I get if I win tonight?”
“Seven grand,” Seth chimes in, and if I’m not mistaken, I think I hear the impressed tone in his voice. “If you beat the two guys that’ve su
pposedly been destroying everyone else tonight, you take home seven grand.”
Easy money. My favorite kind. I hear the distant, muffled roar of the crowd through the ceiling and my nerves electrify. I’m the last contender. Though I won my last fight here, I haven’t been back, which means I start from the bottom all over again. To hold a higher position, you must fight every time they hold an event. To be honest, I’m not in it for position or title. I’m in it for the money and the money only. As the thought passes, a loud slam hits the roof above us and dust floats down once again. Seth and Darryl watch as it coats their clothing.
“If you win tonight, Jacks,” Darryl announces, brushing off his shirt. “At least let us find you a better place to fight. This place isn’t going to take you anywhere.”
I haven’t really thought about fighting anywhere else or taking it any further. Initially, I only wanted to see if I could push past my own barrier and get over the anxiety Amelia instilled in me. I can still feel it, trying desperately to rear its head, but it doesn’t seem to have the strength to push itself to the front of my chest or brain.