Surrender - Voyeur - Page 9

I’d never heard him yell so loud in anger, but it wasn’t the anger that did me in. It was the crack in his voice at the end that let me know how much I was hurting him.

My mind scrambled for a way out of admitting my reasonings, but the bottom line was that I’d rather be embarrassed than hurt this man any more.

I threw my hands out, raising my own voice. “Because I can’t afford this wedding.” I stomped over to him, the words flooding out now that the gates had opened. “I’m working my ass off to get any money I can to save.” It was my turn to shove him, my eyes stinging. “For your fancy venue.” Shove. “For your fancy cakes.” Shove. “For your fancy flowers.” One final shove, his butt hitting the back of the couch. “I can’t fucking afford it.”

Jake opened his mouth, but I wasn’t done yet. I stepped against him, getting in his face now.

“And I’m not some kept woman, Jake. I’m not a fucking charity case.”

“You think I give a shit about any of that?” he asked, his face screwed up.

“You’re always so damn excited with your mom. I know how much you were wanting a big wedding with Carina—in a church—and I can’t give that to you.”

He bumped his chest to mine, pushing me back. “Jesus Christ, Jackson. I’d go to the courthouse right now and marry you. I don’t give a shit about the wedding.” His hands gripped each side of my face and for the first time since we got home, his eyes softened, easing the fear that had been compressing my chest. “I care about you. I want you. I love you.”

A moan of relief rose from my chest and fell from my lips. It was the last of my argument—the last of the fear that he was dumping me. It was my white flag. He had me where he wanted me, and I loved him more than anything and I needed to remind myself that he was mine.

I fisted his shirt to hold him in place and attacked his mouth. The kiss was aggressive and hard and desperate. He gave back as good as he got, his tongue pressing through my lips to tangle with mine. His hands left my face and moved to undo my buckle. Yes, we needed to be naked, skin to skin. I ripped open his dress shirt and tore it from his shoulders, moving on to his pants next.

“Set a date,” he murmured against my lips.

“What?”

“Do it. Give it to me.” The words were slurred with pleading and desire, his lips barely leaving mine to give his demand.

My mind was slow, and I couldn’t have told him what day it was today, let alone set a wedding date. Besides, the reasons for holding off were still there. “No.”

He growled and bit at my lips, shoving my pants down my thighs before gripping my cock. He jerked me hard as we each pushed our pants off. When we were free of our clothes, he shoved me again, pushing me backward around the couch.

He was like a predator, stalking his prey. His eyes never left mine as he kept pushing, his fist on his own cock now. His eyes promising to make me scream in pleasure once he’d had his fill.

It pulled the caveman from me and urged me to fight for dominance. I let him move me where he wanted me because I wanted to be on that couch too. But when he asked me again to set a date, I still said no.

He shoved me again, the backs of my knees hitting the couch and forcing me to fall back. He quickly grabbed the lube from the end table drawer and fell to his knees between my spread thighs. My eyes fell closed as the warm heat of his mouth enveloped me. “Fuck yes.”

The snick of the lube opening was my only warning for what was coming next. Two blunt fingers swiped between my cheeks and I scooted down to give him better access. He didn’t take time to tease me. He continued to suck on my cock like a fucking vacuum and pressed his fingers inside, swirling and spreading, getting me ready for his thick length.

I almost whimpered when he stopped sucking me.

“Set a date, Jackson.”

“No.”

My hips thrust when he nipped at the head of my dick softly. He took the moment to shove his fingers in hard, pulling a cry from my lips. I managed to pry my eyes open and look down my body to where he was swirling his tongue down to my balls. His other arm was flexing, and I knew he was jerking himself, coating himself with lube so he could fuck me.

“Fuck me. I’m done with the playing. Just fuck me,” I demanded, knowing he wouldn’t let me come until he was inside me.

Tags: Fiona Cole Romance
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