Jaded (WTF? Series Book 1) (3 page)

I feel his smile against my lips.

"Your pussy is so sweet and so wet, baby. Is that just for me?"

"Yes," I whisper hoarsely.

And I gasp as he pushes his finger back inside of me, and then another, while his thumb rolls over my clit sending shock waves to my spine. My hips roll in response to his fingers fucking me. He knows exactly how to curl them up and then straighten them out to hit my very special spot that quickly becomes engorged. Another whimper escapes me as I press my hips upward so that his palm is pressed hard against my pubic bone.

"Patience, Presley," he murmurs, removing his fingers from me. God, I want to scream!

Is he punishing me?

I hear him chuckle, once again, reading my emotions--or possibly my mind.

He moves downward, and in the darkness of the cabana, I'm able to feel his warm breath between my trembling legs. His tongue laves my wetness as if he's drinking in some sweet nectar, sucking gently on my bud, and teasing it with his teeth.

Oh God.

His fingers return to the mix, deliberately fucking me with his skilled expertise. I feel as if I'm ready to explode.

"Come for me, baby."

And I do.

But this orgasm is like none before. The buildup is so intense that when I finally succumb to it, I feel a burst of wet release pour from me as wave after wave of pleasure rocks every nerve ending inside of me. Moaning his own pleasure, he laps every last drop of my sweet nectar as it comes from me and I am amazed at what I've just experienced with him. I've never climaxed wet before; I never knew it was possible and I am in total awe of this man's effect on me.

I haven't even touched his cock yet.

I release a loud sigh; my post-climax skin is sensitive and goose-bumped, and I relax back against the soft pillows. I'm satiated and it's totally because of him.

"Oh, we're not even close to being done," he whispers in my ear. I shiver.

"I want to see your cock," I blurt, and immediately feel my face flush.

What is up with that?

I never use words like that in bed.

Ever.

I hear his soft chuckle. "Remember our pact," he reminds me. "But you'll feel it tonight, baby. All night long if you can keep up, that is."

"Is that a challenge, Adam?"

"Are you up for it?" he asks.

"The question is are
you
up for it?"

"Game on, baby."

My eyes flutter open, drinking in the sun-kissed morning light that is now seeping in through the wooden slats of the window. I stretch lazily, and arch my back with feline grace. It takes a moment for me to get my bearings, and when I do, I sit up in bed quickly.

I look around the room frantically--searching for
him.
But I'm alone and my mind races to put the puzzle pieces into some semblance of order.

He was here. I'm sure of that. It's not possible that I dreamed
everything
that happened here--in this bed last night.

Is it?

I peer under the sheets and release a sigh as I see my nakedness. I peer over the edge of the bed, my eyes locking on the ripped thong and satin nightie pooled together on the floor where he'd discarded them. Beside them, three torn condom wrappers are scattered about.  But it seems to me, in my morning haze, that we had fucked so much more than just three times.

Bits and pieces of what transpired the previous night in this bed under a cloak of darkness flash through my mind, like some Power Point presentation. Hard-muscled limbs entangled with mine; lips and tongue that hungrily and expertly work magic all over me, sending shock wave after shock wave through every nerve in my body.

His warm breath on my damp skin, murmuring words to me that bring shivers of delight and anticipation upon me. His intentions are made perfectly clear as he outlines everything he wants to do to me, and I'm already wet again.

His cock, hard and rigid, my hand curls around it, bringing it closer to me, wanting it inside of me. Wanting nothing more than him to possess and claim me as his. Sounds primal but that's how I felt.

And then his soft chuckle when he lifts me up as if I weigh nothing, and settles me down onto his sheathed cock.

His fullness takes my breath away. My body takes him inside of me, and my hips instinctively start a mating rhythm with his, our breathing becomes faster as our thrusting becomes deeper and harder.

Soft moans and feminine mewling, along with the wet fucking sounds our bodies are making together fill the room. He groans in pleasure as my pussy contracts around his girth, and he tells me to keep fucking him just like that.

And I do. I ride his cock up and down, my hands squeezing his balls ever so gently as I feel him nearing climax. Then I lean over just a bit, so that the head of his dick is hitting my sweet spot over and over again. I want us to come together.

And we do. We both come and cry out as wave after wave of orgasmic pleasure spirals through our joined bodies.

Afterwards we are left breathless; our bodies are damp with perspiration and the smell of sex permeates the room. He draws me up beside him, his fingers gently lifting a damp lock from my shoulder so that his lips can place soft butterfly kisses on my throat and neck until I shiver again. He murmurs words of love to me and my heart swells at hearing them. A single tear spills from my eye, as I can't recall ever having felt this way before.

We rest.

I taste him; he tastes me and then we make love.

We rest.

We fuck.

We sleep tangled up together.

It must have been because I have never slept so soundly or contentedly, that I didn't hear or feel him leave me, leave our bed.

I pull the sheet up under my chin and bite my lower lip. I'm totally confused.

Why
did
he leave?

I glance around the room again trying to find some sign other than the condom wrappers on the floor that he was here.

But there is nothing, not a single note.

Panic starts to seep in. I throw the sheets back and leap from the bed, grabbing my robe from the closet and quickly putting it on. The bathroom is empty, but the toilet seat has been left up, a sure sign that a man has been here.

In the living room, everything is as it should be; nothing is out of place. I go to the door and see that it's now locked. I open it up, and take several steps outside so that I can scope out the deserted stretch of beach. There is nothing. There is no one.

Not even traces of footprints are left in the wet sand along the beach next to the water's edge.

I turn around and return to my cabana. Confusion overwhelms me as I draw a bubble bath for myself.

As I soak my thoroughly fucked and thoroughly loved body in the warm sudsy bubbles, I replay the chain of events of the night before over and over again in my mind.

It was perfection. There had been nothing said or done that would've caused him to be angry with me.

I convince myself that he likely went back to his place to shower, shave and change clothes. Maybe he's even going to surprise me by returning with breakfast; fresh strawberries with cream, warm croissants with butter and jam, and plenty of hot coffee to perk us up for the day ahead.

I smile and hum softly as I dress for the day, carefully applying make-up so that I look perfect for him. I brush my hair up into a ponytail and give myself a nod of approval. I pray he's not disappointed with what he sees.

The clock in the bedroom reads nine-thirty. My stomach has butterflies as I await his return.

                                                
∞

The clock in the bedroom reads nine-thirty.

P.M.

He's not coming back. As much as I've tried to rationalize his absence each hour that crawled slowly and painfully by today, my inner voice became louder and louder until the reality was deafening.

My stomach is empty. No butterflies. No tingling. No food. No appetite.

I crawl into my bed, and feel totally repulsed by the lingering scent of our sex that remains on the sheets.

Stupid me.

I hadn't allowed the housekeeping staff in today because I'd been sure that Adam would be popping back in at any moment.

I make a mental note to call them first thing in the morning to change the sheets and thoroughly clean the cabana so there will be no remnants left of our night spent together.

He has wrecked me and then left the pieces behind so that I am forced to wallow in them for the rest of my holiday vacation. I never should've forgotten how very fortunate I am to have Hayden looking after me, taking care of me, and providing the security that I need. Despite the total misery and humiliation I'm feeling right now, the silver lining in this cloud is the reinforcement of knowing that I still have my life with Hayden. I feel ashamed of myself for putting it at risk.

Hayden will never leave me in pieces.

As I curl up on my side, I draw my knees up under my chin and wrap my arms around them. I fall asleep in the fetal position, tears and sobs wracking the same body that he had made his, only the night before.

The rest of my holiday vacation is spent inside of the cabana, mostly in the bed now made up with fresh sheets that smell of fabric softener--not passion or sex.

I'm in this self-imposed prison. I don't go outside to enjoy the sunshine, or to sink my bare feet into the warm, moist sand, or even to breathe in the fresh, salty air.

I spend my days staring at the ceiling, and counting the number of revolutions the ceiling fan completes per minute, per hour until dusk settles in and I go to the refrigerator and pull out an apple or some of the withered grapes that are still there to take in some nourishment before the day is blessedly over.

I'm punishing myself for the stupidity I allowed to govern me, for the emotions and curiosity I had no right to feel, but mostly for my lack of good judgment in putting what I have--what I should be grateful for--at risk.

How could I be so unappreciative of all that Hayden has given me? How could I possibly want more than I already have? I'm not bound to him by the chains of matrimony; I'm free to leave anytime I wish.

But why would I want to?

He gives me all that I need. He takes care of me in almost every way possible. He provides the financial and emotional security that my mother never enjoyed.

She struggled, always worried that she couldn't provide enough for me; or that my future wouldn't be secure.

Having seen this firsthand, I never wanted to struggle the way that she had. Having children wasn't part of my plan--I saw the stress and anxiety it had caused for my mother. I wanted no part of that.

It dawns on me that the very thing my mother had tried to instill in me--a sense of my own independence--was absent. As much as she had tried, I simply wasn't that person, nor could I ever be. She had taken care of me, sacrificing herself in the process.

I hate that I've failed her; but after all, I
am
my mother's daughter. And like her, my livelihood is secured at the whim of a man, not
men
as was her case, but if I'm lucky, I will fare much better than she had.

I am resolute in making sure that Hayden remains content with me, and to never again put myself at risk.

                           
∞

I spot Hayden at the bottom of the escalator waiting for me. He seems anxious to see me. Our eyes lock, and I quickly plaster a smile on my face, waving to him.

He smiles but it doesn't reach his eyes; it almost never does.

As I step off of the escalator, his eyes flicker over me as if he's inspecting his merchandise for damage.

This is new.

"Welcome home, Jade," he says softly, reaching for me.

I'm stunned because Hayden typically does not show affection publically--or even
privately
for that matter. It's usually only done in bed under the guise of fucking.

But I go with it, dropping my bag to the floor and putting my arms around him as he squeezes me against his chest. "Have you lost weight?" he asks, pulling back to get a better look at me. He seems concerned.

"I don't think so," I reply, wondering how in the hell he can tell with my winter coat buttoned up tightly around me. I know that I have lost weight, though I'm just not sure how much.

"Have you been ill? You never mentioned it in your text messages back to me."

"I'm fine, Hayden," I sigh. "I'm just glad to be home."

∞
             

We stop for dinner on our way back to my apartment from the airport. Hayden insists that I order dessert after my meal having seen and commented once again about my obvious weight loss.

"Didn't you enjoy Belize?" he asks, giving me his full attention now, waiting for my response.

"It was okay, I guess. Maybe next Christmas I'll go somewhere with snow."

"We have snow here," he deadpans. "I thought the whole point was for you to get
away
from the snow and enjoy warm weather in the winter."

"That's just it," I reply thoughtfully, "I need to learn to appreciate the snow, and not try and escape it. Snow is the reality of where we live, isn't it?"

"You sound unusually pragmatic," he retorts. "What bit of wisdom crossed your path?"

I shrug and give him a pensive smile. "I suppose these holiday vacations provide me with enough time to be introspective, and to get a dose of reality while I'm at it. It helps me appreciate what I have, Hayden. I've missed you."

He smiles and nods, snapping his fingers for the server to bring him the check.

Once back at my apartment, he wastes no time in helping me out of my clothes.

"I've missed you as well, Jade," he murmurs, fisting my hair in the back and pulling me up against him. His lips ravage mine furiously and I know that we will be making up for lost time.

He quickly pulls me upstairs to my bedroom, and sheds his clothing immediately. His thick cock strains against his boxer shorts that remain in place.

"Come here," he instructs.

I walk across the thick carpeting to stand before him. His eyes are searching mine.

For something--though I'm not sure what.

Do I look different?

Does he sense . . .
something
?

"Tell me what you want?" he asks boldly.

This is new.

"I . . . I want you, Hayden," I stammer in a quiet voice. "Always you."

"No. Tell me what you want at
this
moment."

I flush with confusion. I'm not sure what he wants to hear. I decide to go with instinct.

"I want your cock. I want you to bury your cock balls-deep inside of me."

He smiles wryly. "Do I need a condom?" he asks.

I'm stunned by the question, but pray that I'm not showing it. Hayden and I never use condoms.

There's no point.

He's had a vasectomy and up until this point, I've never been sexual with anyone else other than him since that very first time. There's no way he could've known about the one night with Adam. Besides that, we used condoms.

Based on his claims that his wife is rarely in the mood, my presumption has always been that we're practicing safe sex. If that has now changed, then he is the one to answer that question. Not me.

I face him squarely. "You tell
me,
Hayden. Do
you
need a condom?"

Our eyes lock and I refuse to show anything less than honesty. There's no way that I'll break eye contact first with him. The ball is in his court now.

He remains silent, but his gaze is still penetrating. I don't back down. He moves closer, placing his hands on my shoulders and gently nudges me downward. I sink to my knees before him; my face is aligned with his bulging cock, still straining against the cotton material to be freed.

"Suck me," he says in a hoarse whisper. "Show me what your mouth can do."

I draw him out. I hear his sharp intake of breath as my mouth closes over the head of his dick, and my hands grip and squeeze the bare cheeks of his ass. I pull him into me more deeply.

Hayden likes it rough, and that's exactly how I'm giving it to him. My mouth assaults his shaft from tip to root, and then back again.

He moans his pleasure, his one hand resting against the back of my head to steady my rhythm to match his thrusting.

"That's it," he says, "Keep sucking me like that, Jade. You like this too, don't you?"

I moan my assurance, swirling my tongue around the tip, and gently nip the ridge of sensitive skin around the head of it with my teeth.

"Ahh," he breathes, "That's my girl. That's my Jade."

Suddenly he stops his thrusting and pulls me to my feet. His hands frame my face, pulling my mouth to his as his tongue searches for mine. We are caught up in a rhythm of passion that is new to me-- from him that is.

Something is different.

"Do you
appreciate
my cock?" he asks me.

"Yes, Hayden. Of course I do."

"Do you love what it does for you?"

"Yes."

"Did you miss it?"

"I did."

His hands turn me around so that my back is now to him. I feel his hands on my hips guiding me forward towards the bed.

"I want to fuck you from behind," he says.

I get on my hands and knees and move to the center of the bed. I feel him behind me now; one hand steadying me while the other grips his erection. I'm already wet for him, but he gives me a courtesy finger-fuck to make sure that I'm well-lubricated to receive his girth.

And yes, his cock is big.

[But ladies, let's clear something up right here and now. The size of a guy's dick doesn't necessarily mean that it has inborn talent. So please don't think that guys with smaller dicks can't make your eyes roll back in your head, or propel you to cry out dirty, filthy things like some two-bit strumpet, because I'm sure that they can. It's just that I personally haven't had any experience with those of . . . smaller . . . girth. We clear on that?]

As soon as his fingers leave my core, I brace myself for the forceful thrust of his cock as he enters me. I mean, that's his usual style - the great, swift plunge.

But he enters me slowly now and I'm pleasantly surprised by this. He's being unusually gentle, inching his erection into me with slow deliberation and care. Both of his hands are now braced on my hips, gently rolling them in sync with his slow, methodical thrusting.

"Does that feel good Jade? Does
this
cock feel good in your pussy?"

I hesitate momentarily; Hayden doesn't generally talk during sex. He's extremely talkative today however.

"Oh yes," I reply honestly. "It feels
so
good, Hayden."

We work ourselves into a slow rhythm; he rocks in and out of me slowly, his momentum picking up just a notch as we continue at this pace. I dare to arch my back just a bit in order to allow the head of his cock to hit my sweet spot.

It's
perfect.

I moan loudly as he continues hitting my spot; my breathing escalates and it feels so fucking good with him right now that I can't stop mewling my pleasure. I sound like a whore in heat, but I don't give a damn because it feels
just
that good. It's never been
this
good . . . not with Hayden.

Something has changed.

With him?

Or with me?

I don't dare stop to analyze it because I'm quickening like a horny bitch and he's murmuring things to me.

Dirty things.

Sexy things.

This is a
first
for that as well.

"You like how this feels, don't you?" he rasps from behind me, his hands now gripping my ass cheeks firmly.

"God . . . yes. Please don't stop."

I'm afraid that he
will
stop his thrusting and I don't even know why that thought enters my mind because he's enjoying this every bit as much as I am.

I'm on the verge of a major orgasm and I feel his hand circle around from the back. His fingers are splayed and his thumb finds my swollen clit. I gasp audibly as he rocks in and out of me, pinging my g-spot each and every time with his cock, while he rolls my swollen clit between his thumb and forefinger, gently pinching it.

"Oh God," I moan loudly, feeling the spasms being released from deep within my core, "Please don't stop!"

He groans as he meets my orgasm with his own powerful one. Several thrusts later I feel him stiffen as his cock throbs within me and I'm overwhelmed with how much pleasure he's given me.

"You love what
my
cock gave you," he whispers hoarsely as my orgasm starts to wind down just as his is exploding inside of me.

"Tell me.  I need to hear it."

"Yes," I answer, trying to catch my breath. "I fucking love what your cock gave me," I finish in a hoarse whisper.

My breathing remains ragged from the climactic exertion, and my skin is still tingling from the remnants of having every single nerve ending in my body electrified by Hayden's cock. I clench my muscles around him feeling the warm squirts of cum pulsating inside of my soaked pussy.

Hayden's breathing finally slows down as he gives one last shudder and empties the last drops of his climax inside of my body.

He backs out of me, and I can feel the wetness of our joint orgasms as it drips from us. He collapses beside me on the bed, his breathing still fast and hard from the exertion. My legs feel wobbly, and I join him, damp skin meeting damp skin.

"Damn," he growls, pulling me close, his fingers combing through my damp locks of hair. "That was fucking epic," he says, throwing his other arm up and over his forehead in exhaustion. "Maybe I need to send your ass to San Pedro more often," he says with a playful tease in his tone.