Page 81 of Into the Dark
The heat creeps up my neck and face. Can I actually say it out loud? Of course I can. This is Jake. If I can’t tell him my deepest, darkest fantasies then who on earth can I tell? Granted, this isn’t exactly how the fantasy went…but it’s close enough.
“I want you to fuck me,” I whisper, “the way we spoke about before.” My voice is far stronger and more assured than it has any right to be.
Jake’s eyes widen and narrow, and his lips, which look used and red from kissing me, part in surprise. “Alex…you want that? Here? Now?” His voice is heavy with desire, and his rough East End accent coats the edges.
I suppose I’ve not given much thought to where and how it’ll happen. I just know that after I say yes, I’ll want it to, and it will. In fact, since I first thought about Jake taking me like that, I’m pretty sure it’s the most erotic thing my mind could ever conjure. And my mind has conjured lots of erotic images since I first met him.
“Yes.” I nod.
He stares at me wordlessly for a few long seconds before he lets out a very deep breath. “Baby, you know we don’t have to do this.” He brushes his knuckles lightly over my cheek. When his thumb grazes along my bottom lip I open my mouth and touch my tongue to his finger. He watches closely then lets out a long, decisive breath.
Every nerve ending in my body seems to be alight, a warm current running through my veins and rippling out over my skin. It hardens my nipples and quickens my insides. When he dips his head to kiss me again, I rest my head back against the glass and moan quietly against his mouth. Pinching my chin between his thumb and forefinger, he breaks away from my mouth and stares down at me.
“I love you, and we don’t have to do this,” he says, serious green eyes boring into my own. “Tell me you know that.”
“I know that. And I love you back. Tell me you know that.”
He smiles and slides his hand under my hair to grip the back of my neck. “I know you do, baby. I know…” He kisses me again. His tongue moves in that slow, sensual way, hooking around my breath and pulling it tight. When he steps back he brushes his thumb over my mouth once more. “Now, go stand at the desk,” he says with a kind of calm authority.
With a deep breath, I move to do as I’m told, walking slowly to the desk to stand at the front of it facing the chair behind it. He goes to the sofa and lifts my gray suede shoulder bag to bring it to me.
“What do you have in here?” he asks, handing me the bag. “Do you have the tin of coconut stuff you use on your lips?”
Confused, I open my mouth to ask why, but the reason becomes clear a second later, and I simply nod and reach into my bag to pull out the small silver tin of coconut-infused petroleum jelly I have with me at all times. He takes it and places my bag back on the sofa, and then he moves to lift the bottle of Jack Daniels again, watching me closely as he takes a large mouthful and savors the taste. I’m not sure what he’s looking for. Maybe he’s looking for a wobble or a sign I don’t really want to do this—or worse, that I’m doing it for all the wrong reasons—but I’m certain he won’t find either on my face.
Before he replaces the cap, I hold out my hand to him. “Could I have some of that?” My legs feel a little wobbly and my pulse races fast and hard, and some Dutch courage certainly won’t do me any harm right now.
He smiles. “I’ll get you a glass.”
“The bottle is fine,” I say, reaching out to take it from him. But then I remember. A small sip won’t hurt the baby, but it feels irresponsible somehow. I bring the bottle to my nose and sniff. It’s as revolting as I remember, so it isn’t hard to make the act convincing. I shake my head and hand it back. “I forgot how much I hate it.”
It’s not a lie. The last time I drank Jack Daniels was at Nick’s birthday five years ago, and I have very little memory of what happened after it except a traumatic hangover.
Jake chuckles as he caps it, leaning forward to kiss me again, his tongue sinking deep into my mouth. It tastes better on his tongue, that’s for sure. Gripping the back of my head with gentle force, he brushes his fingers across the front of my dress, pinching my nipple softly. I moan and he bites down on my bottom lip before breaking away from my mouth and away from me. When he moves behind me I almost pant with need. Then his hands are on my body, moving across it with a possessiveness that makes me want to relinquish every bit of control to him.
With a hand closed gently over my throat, he pulls me tight against him and brings his mouth to my neck to suck hard. Hard enough to leave a mark, I think. Do I want that? I decide quickly that I do, and I drop my head back onto his shoulder and close my eyes, moaning at the feel of his hands and his mouth moving roughly over me. He drags his lips across my heating skin, his coarse facial hair scratching at my neck, making it feel flammable—making me feel flammable. One strike of a match and I’ll catch fire, I’m certain.
I feel behind me for some part of him to hold onto, but my nails only find his thighs—strong, hard muscle encased in expensive tailored pants. Scraping them over the rich, silky material, I begin to move my body over his erection, which presses hard and tempting against my behind. Jake moves his hands to my hips and pulls me tighter against him, grinding his cock into me as he bites and sucks and licks at my neck.
“Bend over for me,” he says in a low whisper, pressing the palm of his hand against the small of my back.
With his guidance I move forward so I’m folded over the solid, hard wood of his desk. It’s cold and unforgiving, but it doesn’t make much of a dent on my body temperature or state of arousal. It’s a sturdy thing. Immovable and very stable.
As I shift to find a comfortable stance I feel his hand skim the length of my spine, and I hear him let out a low, satisfied noise as his hand moves over my butt. When he begins to slide up my dress, pushing the heavy material up my thighs, my body temperature kicks up a notch and the butterflies start to move erratically in my tummy. The fluttering of anticipation and excitement is similar to how it felt in the moments just before we made love for the first time. A tremendous tingling whizzing at top speed through my body, enflaming my blood.
I’m not wearing tights or stockings, and a second later my dress is bundled to my waist and I’m naked in the dim light of his office except for my black lace panties. I swallow to wet my dry mouth and throat, but I feel no shame or embarrassment or cold. I feel only the heat of his eyes and his touch, and the deep vibrating effect they have on every part of my body.
Then I feel his mouth on me.
Starting on my right cheek, he massages softly and begins with soft kisses and the smallest, most delicate of bites before gradually moving across to the other. When his fingers hook into the waistband of my panties and he starts to tug them down, something inside me loosens. I feel the wet bloom of heat pool between my legs and desperately want to rub my thighs together for pleasure. But I know I should wait. I know that if I wait for Jake to touch me there it will be worth it.
He slides the soft fabric down my legs, and with each inch they go they seem to shorten my breaths even further. When they’re all the way down I step gingerly out of them, holding onto the edge of the desk for balance.
“Now spread your legs a little more for me, baby,” he says, his voice low and very soft. I wonder if it’s just desire, or if it’s because he’s trying not to spook me.
I do as he says, edging my legs apart by taking a small step. As he skims his hand over my butt and grabs my cheek I hear him take another soft intake of breath. “Fuck, you look so perfect like this…” he says as I feel him drop to his knees.
Gripping my cheeks, he pushes them apart, and then I feel his mouth on me there. As I gasp at the contact a warm tremble moves through my whole body. It’s ticklish—his beard scrapes across my inner thighs, his breathing quick and hot and fast in the space between my legs. He groans deliciously as he moves his mouth and tongue exquisitely over the most sensitive, aroused parts of me. When he lowers his tongue and licks the entire length of me, front to back, I groan and my legs wobble so much I have to grip harder onto the solid oak surface beneath me. His fingers stroke quick, circular movements very close to where his tongue is.