Panting, I briefly shut my eyes, but he demanded that I open them.
“I want you to watch.” He punished my earlobe with his teeth, biting me more than once. “I want you to watch how fucked up we both are...How we need this...”
As the red light from the phone continued to blink, and the sound of our skin slapping against each other filled the room, Jake whispered, “This is why I can’t stay away from you, Gillian...This is exactly why...”
I bit my lip as he ground his hips against mine and moved my hand down to my clit. , I felt it swelling beneath my drenched fingertips, felt my pussy continuing to throb in bliss against Jake’s reckless rhythm.
Jake suddenly grabbed my hand and sucked my fingers into his mouth—groaning as he tasted my wetness. I felt the muscles in his legs beginning to tense as he began to slow pounding into me, and as he held me taut against him, I came with him for the very first time.
I collapsed onto the couch, his cock leaving me as I fell, and he remained standing, staring at me.
Shutting my eyes, I waited to catch my breath, and several minutes later, I realized he was still staring at me.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing.” He smiled and picked up my phone, turning off the red light before handing it to me. “Keep that for yourself.”
“You wanted to do that just so I could watch it later?”
He nodded.
“Why?”
“Because the next time we argue—if we argue again that is, you’ll have a visual reminder that you don’t ever need to waste your time looking for someone else.” He walked over to me and covered my mouth with his. Then he continued to make up for lost time by spreading my legs and sliding his cock inside of me once more, slowly fucking me again and again.
GATE B33
GILLIAN
London (HTW)
WE LANDED IN LONDON much later that evening, the familiar fog of the city welcoming us with open arms. Still bearing the scent of our sex, we checked into a hotel and showered, with Jake taking me shopping shortly after.
Completely sated from our sex in the air, I fell asleep locked tightly in his arms that night, my heart never feeling more full or happier. And as he kissed me to sleep, I hoped—truly hoped, that we could remain just like this for at least a month...
IN THE MORNING, I WOKE up completely sore and exhausted, with a full, assorted breakfast tray sitting to my left. A handwritten note from Jake was sitting right next to the strawberries.
Had to take a few phone calls.
I’ll be back.
—Jake
I DIDN’T LET MY MIND wander to thoughts of why he’d once again felt the need to leave the room to talk on the phone; I decided to let it go.
I slowly sat up and started eating the breakfast, scrolling through my text messages as syrup dribbled down my chin.
Mom: Your apartment is far nicer than I thought it would be. Thank you for letting us use it.
Mom: How are you able to afford this? (Tell me Gillian...*Are* you selling drugs?)
Amy: You missed the proposal of the year... It was AMAZING, Gillian!
Heather: Really wish you could’ve been there. How’s Jake?
Brian: She said yes! I’ll send you pictures later today. It was EPIC.
Meredith: Your brother’s proposal was whack as fuck. You owe me for forcing me to waste my Saturday on that. O_o. Pictures attached. [img.] [img.] [img.]
I LAUGHED AND CLICKED on the images, grateful that I’d escaped the “epic” celebration this weekend. As I was looking at the picture of Brian crying as he got down on one knee, Jake returned to the room.
“What’s funny?” he asked, setting his phone on the desk.
“My brother’s proposal.” I held up the phone. “He was crying before he even got down on one knee.”
He looked at the picture and raised his eyebrow. “Interesting.”
“If you ever want to propose to me in the future, please don’t cry in front of me. It’ll ruin the mood.”
He ignored that comment completely and pressed a strawberry against my lips. “Get dressed. We have only a day and a half left here, and I want to take you somewhere.”
I smiled and quickly slid out of bed, dressing under his watchful eyes in the new jeans and sweater he’d bought me last night.
When I was finished, he clasped my hand and walked me out of the hotel and into a waiting taxi cab. Pulling me into his lap, he ran his fingers through my hair as the car careened across the cobble-stoned streets.
“Where are we going?” I asked softly.
“Somewhere I think you might like.”
Within minutes, the cab pulled in front of Hatchard’s, the oldest book store in London.
I couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across my face as he helped me out of the car. He led me inside, past the famous café and displays and toward a sign and room that read “Signing Event Today!”