I try to respond to him—really, I do—but an orgasm zings through me, chattering my teeth and turning my words useless. His fingers continue to plunge into me, spreading me apart to give and take, long after I’ve collapsed facedown. The firm pillows beneath me absorb my cries and my half-assed attempt to say his name. They don’t stop my hearing, though. And when I hear him growl, “I’m fucking lucky, Little Flick. So lucky,” the quivers start again.
Early the next morning, Jackson insists on personally taking me home. My legs are unsteady, more flimsy than rubber, as he guides me to the parking garage to a sexy white Jaguar coupe—the same car I’ve seen in all those Jaguar villain commercials. He’s not British, but he’s sure as hell villainous for not letting me get a wink of sleep, and my stomach flutters when he opens my door for me.
“This suits you,” I murmur. “The car, I mean.”
The corner of his mouth slinks up in a smirk before he lowers his lips to my ear. “I like to go fast and hard.”
Desire pools in my core but I ignore it to bob my head. While he had kept his word about not taking my virginity, he had made me come repeatedly last night. Before dinner, after dinner—it had all started to blur into a fuzzy, delicious haze that left me hating my hips for every gyration against his mouth and loathing my clit for throbbing beneath his fingertips. Yeah, I’ve gotten off before, but no vibrating clit toy or my own hand ever made me claw at the sheets and shriek for more.
Jackson Cade should be my enemy.
Yet sitting beside him, he’s my greatest source of confusion.
I give him the address to the coffee shop his driver picked me up from last night, but he rolls his eyes and drives right past it. My breath catches a few minutes later when he pulls up to the curb in front of my apartment. I twist slowly, my eyes big.
“What?” he drawls.
“You know where I live.”
His eyebrows shoot up over his beautiful turquoise eyes. “I know your favorite color is yellow, that you’re majoring in business, that your ex couldn’t give you what you need even if he had a five-hundred-page manual and a bucket of lube in front of him, that—”
“That’s enough,” I say hotly, crossing my arms over my chest. God, why are my nipples hard just listening to him say nasty things? “You’re a creep, Mr. Cade.”
He hauls me to him by the neckline of my dress. “You’re mine, Flick. You belong to me, so naturally, I wanted to know everything there was to know about you.” Our breaths mingle together—mine shallow and his long and labored. He kisses me softly, but the sense of urgency is there as his tongue parts my lips. My brain is jelly long after he pulls back. “I want to see you again. Soon. I’ll be in touch.”
“When?” I demand when he helps me out of the car. Mrs. O’Malley, the cat lady who lives on our hall, wanders out the building to get her usual morning coffee. She spots Jackson’s hand snake around to grip my ass and does a double take.
“Care to watch?” Jackson teases, challenging her gaze with a playful grin.
She shakes her head swiftly and scurries off. Dropping his stare to mine, he chuckles at the sour look on my face. “She’s going to think I’m an escort.”
“Or that you’re a very lucky little girl.” He jiggles my ass, groaning when my body acts on its own accord and arches into him. “You’re playing with fire, Flick. I suggest you go upstairs now before you find yourself bent over the hood of this car with ten inches of cock inside of you.”
“Ten inches. Inside of me,” I repeat in a detached voice, my breath diminishing with every word. Good god, is that even feasible? Playfully, he pecks my forehead and releases me toward the door to my building with another firm swat on the ass. Beneath my dress, it’s bare, because he swore up and down he couldn’t locate the white panties I wore last night.
I’ve got a feeling they’ll end up in some kinky drawer—panties of past conquests.
“I’ll be in touch soon, Little Flick.” When I glance back, he’s leaned against the passenger side of the Jaguar with his lips curved knowingly. “That is, if you don’t call me first.”
“Don’t count on it,” I retort, then duck into my building so he won’t see how badly I’m shaking.
6
Felicity
“Tell me everything,” Wendy squeals the moment I walk in our apartment. She’s on the couch with her knees drawn to her chest. “But keep it quiet, Erik’s asleep in the next room and you know how he likes to give Justin updates on how you’re doing.”