The Encounter

He’s a bad boy.

I see it in his eyes. Jesus, I’m gonna fuck Jax Saddington. My core clenches.

“Let’s walk.” He pockets his phone, looks down at my heels, and smirks.

“Wait. Where’s your car?” My heeled boots are new, but even if they were broken in, I can’t walk far in them.

“I don’t have a car.” He looks down at my face and laughs.

“How is that possible?” The gin martini is starting to wear off. I let him drag me down the sidewalk toward the ocean.

“I think we have enough pollution without me adding to it,” he states.

“But—”

He turns and suddenly I can’t breathe, move. All I can do is feel. His hand wraps around my neck and he pulls me close to his hard chest. My hands instantly cling to his silky suit jacket. His eyes caress my face, the moon and streetlight letting me watch his expression. He tightens his grasp slightly on my throat as his lips hover over mine.

“Spread your legs,” he demands, and before I can question him or myself, I obey. His warm hand cups my pussy through the slip under my dress. Thank God, I’m in my three-quarter-length sweater jacket, which gives me some privacy, because his fingers go straight to my clit. He grins and my breath catches in my throat at the sight of his dimples. That and his two fingers thrusting inside me.

“Wet. Good girl,” he growls.

Peering over his shoulder, I see headlights. My nails dig into his arm and he steps closer, letting go of my neck and wrapping one hand in my hair while he rubs my clit with the other.

“A… car,” I whisper.

“Eyes on me,” he says gruffly, finger fucking me fast.

I can see the car from my peripheral vision slow, but then again everything is slowing as my body tightens, quivers.

“I’m going to come.” I grab on to his tie and vaguely hear the car honk. I don’t care. I should care, but holy fuck, this feels too good.

“Only if you say please.” His slick fingers that were thrusting inside me now slowly rub my clit.

“What?” I moan, clinging to him. My breathing is harsh, and I can’t help but whimper as I climb and build toward exploding.

“Say please make me come, like the good girl I know you are.”

“But… I’m com—”

“Please. Or I’ll stop.” His voice is soft, but his eyes are fierce. He steps back slightly.

I tug hard on his tie and moan. “Please.” I’m so desperate, so fucking deprived of any real pleasure, I want to scream and beg for this feeling to never end. Instead, I chant, “Please, please…” Jax grabs the base of my hair. My head jerks back and I’m lost in his vortex as I start to pulse.

“Come, beautiful.” His slick fingers thrust and rub deep inside me. Puffing out air, I try not to scream as wave after wave of pleasure racks my body.

“Yeah, such a good girl. Do you like obeying me?”

Blinking at him, I try to come back to earth.

“I love it.” Again, I can hate myself tomorrow, but tonight I want him.

“Good, let’s go.” He takes my hand and pulls me over to the car that was honking at us. Great, that was a cab.

“Wait, you really don’t have a car?” I look at him. His profile is almost unfair, in that it’s perfect. He waits for me to slide in. I do and am instantly hit with a stale smell, maybe dirt? Whatever, it’s ten times better than the ones in New York. When Jax enters, the way this man moves makes my stomach flip again.

Power. It fills the cab, takes over the space. I’ve never met anyone who can control things like him. Liquid heat fills my body.

He rattles off an address to the driver. “I’m living in a hotel room.” As if that should make sense, but considering I’m doing the same thing, I don’t question it, although I do shiver and it has nothing to do with the temperature outside. When he takes my hand, I almost jump, my fingers tingling as he massages them along with my palm. Jesus, he’s mesmerizing. I’m hoping this wild excitement I’m having is the booze, or even the fact that I’ve been stalking him in the tabloids and on the Internet since I was thirteen. Anything else would be ridiculous. You don’t just fall for someone in seconds—at least, I don’t.

“I’m only here for tonight,” I blurt out, not sure if that was for him or myself. I need my own voice to make it real.

“That’s fine,” he states. And I almost jerk my hand away. What the hell? I blink at him, the dark night unable to hide his grin or intense stare. He likes to watch me, which bugs me. Way too intimate. Especially since he’s pretty much agreed with me that this is a one-night thing.