Page 15 of Change of Course
“See you in the morning, widget,” her father says, and kisses the top of her head before escorting me out the front door.
“There’s baby acetamino—” I start to remind my mom, but Jackson hustles me out before I can finish.
“They’ll be fine. Now, Mrs. Moore, I intend to dance the feet off you before I take you to bed,” he warns. “Don’t get distracted.”
“What if the squad wants to go to a bar after the event?” I ask. “I haven’t seen Megan since she got married and moved to North Carolina.”
“Then we go to a bar.”
“What if we wind up talking in somebody’s hotel room? You’re not going to get mad, are you?”
He stops, the car door open for me. “Of course not. Don’t mix me up with your dumbass ex, okay?”
I open my mouth, then shut it and get in. Jackson makes sure my dress is tucked in, then closes my door. When he gets in the driver’s side, he looks me in the eye. “You have until midnight, and then I’m going to carry you off to our hotel room and have my way with you. No arguing.”
Like I said, we haven’t had a night together other than at our toddler-occupying house since she was born.
“Be a good girl, and I’ll make you come at least three times before you go to sleep,” Jackson adds.
My jaw drops, and I can feel my silky thong panties get damp almost instantly. “Oh.”
Jackson puts the car in reverse and slings his arm behind my seat, backing us out expertly. “You are gonna be a good girl and take that dick on your back, aren’t you, Cherry?”
I press my legs together, biting my lip.
“Or you want to suck my cock first like a naughty girl, is that it?” Jackson asks, mock-sternly, shifting into Drive.
“Oh,” I say again.
“You can leave those naughty-girl shoes on while I fuck your good-girl pussy, Cherry.” He flicks me a knowing, sly glance as he puts his sunglasses on, and I feel a tiny gush of moisture. Without even looking down, I can tell my nipples are poking at the satin of my dress.
“Actually, you know what?” He gives me another sidelong look. “You can be a naughty girl or a good girl tonight. Your choice.”
“What’s the difference?” My voice is already weak with desire.
“Naughty girls get spanked and eaten out and fucked on their hands and knees with my hand in their hair. Good girls get praised and eaten out and fucked on their backs with their legs in the air.”
“Oooh,” I moan, squirming in the seat.
“You get to pick.” He shrugs one shoulder, a corner of his mouth turned up with amusement. “Or you could be one right after the other. I don’t care. I love both of you.”
I look down at his lap, which is bulging with what I know is a truly impressive erection. “Maybe I’ll be myself and my naughty twin. How do you like them apples?”
He reaches over without looking and pinches my nipple gently. “Like ‘em just fine. Now let’s go show everybody how badass a couple we are.”
And we do.
We catch up on all the gossip. We tell everybody ours—that Jackson works for the city as a civil engineer, that I’m selling real estate, that we have a beautiful daughter. When people ask when we got together, we exchange glances and tell them that we were actually together in high school but kept it a secret, but yes, we got back together after our 15-year reunion.
We drink cups of special anniversary rum punch (Courtney says she had to talk Brittany out of insisting that it be bright blue, because that could have been a complete disaster, however festive it looked). We dance. We sneak off at one point and kiss in a corner, and when Jackson starts to slide the hem of my dress up my leg, I have to stop him by jumping off his lap and running over to greet Jesse and Brett. Otherwise, I’d have let him get his hands all over my goodies, right there in public, and there is being badass and then there’s being obscene, and that would have been obscene with people watching.
We do wind up in Jesse and Brett’s room, talking and showing pictures of our daughter and their little girl and Courtney’s stepdaughter, and her new baby son. But at a minute past midnight, Jackson stands up. “It’s been great, y’all,” he says. “But now it’s time for me to take my wife to bed.”
“Woohoo! Get you some, girl,” Brett tells me, and I laugh, but I take Jackson’s hand and get off the bed. After a round of hugs, he’s escorting me out into the hall and down to the elevator to go up one floor.
“This thing is too damn slow,” Jax grouses. He pulls me after him to the end of the hall and through the stairwell door, then picks me up and carries me up the flight. He bumps the door open with his back, and carries me the short distance to our room, where he unlocks the door and dumps me on the bed. He turns on the bathroom light, and turns to me.
He’s hard. I can see it. In an instant, the low-level arousal I’ve kept running all night comes roaring back and my girlyparts are suddenly wet and aching.