Nuclear Heat (Firework Girls #4) (16 page)

Again, I’m moaning helplessly.

“That’s my girl,” he says thickly, looking at me with blazing eyes, “Let me hear those sexy noises you make.”

As if I could stop now.

His cock is lighting up every inch of my channel as he rocks me rhythmically. His angle puts extra pressure on my side wall, something I love. He’s almost found my favorite position already. Then he lifts my top leg to rest it on his nearest shoulder, and holds my thigh against his chest as he straddles my bottom leg. The whole time his thick cock stays inside me, and
now
he’s found my favorite position.

“God, yes,” I say. “I love that.”

Now he’s able to pump my slick channel faster and deeper. He braces himself against the headboard with one hand, biceps flexing, leaning over me more and bringing my top leg with him, spreading me wider. His cock is angling even harder against my side wall, causing pleasure to bloom outward from that spot over and over again. I feel a drop of moisture escape me and run down my pussy.

“You’re so wet,” Jack says thickly, looking at me with an astonishing mix of passion and tenderness as he rams me hard. I didn’t know it was possible to experience all this at once.

Then our eyes lock in a new way. Every sensation in my body and heart magnifies. I look at him looking at me, his body over me, his cock inside me, and we’re joined body and soul. All of a sudden it’s
too much, too much, too much
but I don’t want him to stop, either. His hand that’s on my thigh slides down until his fingers are traveling over my mound and heading for my bud. Legs stretched wide, my channel stretched wide by his massive shaft, his fingers touch my engorged clit and I feel the jolt through my entire body. All the while, his eyes grip mine and I’m tumbling and helpless and overpowered by love for him.

I can’t speak. I can’t look away. I can only gasp and pant and whimper as he brings me to another shattering climax. I clutch at his thigh and close my eyes and throw my head back and come undone. His hardness enters me again and again, and his fingers strum me rapidly, and I cry out helplessly.

At last I’m released. When he pulls out of me and lets my body rest heavily on the bed, I’m trembling. He’s still kneeling on the bed, but now he’s rubbing his hands firmly up my thighs, up my stomach, up my breasts, then back down, firmly. He’s grounding me and getting me ready for more. His cock is so hard I can see the strain in it. He’s watching me and I’m too captured to do anything but watch him back.

He’s hungry for me, but I’m already consumed.

Too much. It’s too much, Jack. Have mercy on me.

But when he comes down on top of me, I open my arms to him and pull him into a willing embrace. He enters me and I am a little boat on a big ocean. I tilt my head back and close my eyes and let Jack take me to a place I’ve never been. I’m helpless to stop it. His breath is hot on my neck and his arms firm around me. Jack rocks me. He sends my little boat over the waves, higher and higher. Just like this, head back, eyes closed. My body is his to command and I am hot with his wishes. A gentle and powerful swell rises in me. He is everywhere in me and I am everywhere in him. Jack rocks me. Bigger and bigger. More and more.

Have mercy.

This is not an emerging climax of the body, but an emerging climax of the soul. And when it explodes inside me, and I’m trembling with ecstasy, and Jack is releasing and shuddering over me, I am finally, fully acquainted with the great and terrible power of love.

I know I’ve got a skittish little doe on my hands. Don’t think I don’t.

On our date, I was careful to call her to me gently and not do anything to startle her. Then she startled me when she kissed me in the truck like that. And asked for more. And kept that fire burning all the way home and into my bedroom.

Sam’s a force to be reckoned with, for sure.

But it got away from both of us, there at the end, and I can only hope I haven’t frightened her back into the woods.

In fact, I’m kind of regretting the timing of the big dinner we have to go to tonight. It’s a fancy dinner at The Iron House to celebrate the conclusion of Ashley and Erik’s summer tour, and everyone’s going to be there. All the girls, and all their guys.

And Sam and I.

I don’t know if Sam’s ready for this. I’m tempted to text everyone and tell them to behave. I’d keep the whole thing under wraps, if I could, but I sort of blew my chances at that when I kissed Sam the way I did right in front of Ashley.

Not that I regret that.

It was soooo worth it.

When I pull up to Sam’s house, she doesn’t come out to meet me. I’m not sure if that’s progress or not. When I go inside, she’s not in the immediate vicinity so I holler out to her. “Hey Shorty,” I call. “You ready?”

She emerges from the hallway—wearing one of my favorite dresses of hers, the slim, blue number—pointing to the phone she’s holding to her ear and rolling her eyes. “I know, Mom, but there’s nothing you can do about that now.”

I grin. Ah, her mom. She’s a bit of a mess, but she’s got a good heart.

“Mom, I—” Sam drops her phone half an inch, rolls her eyes, and sighs. I can see now she’s legitimately frustrated about something. But what about? If she’s talking to her mom, it could be anything.

I can hear her mom’s voice, but can’t make out of much of what she’s saying. She sounds like she might be crying. What’s going on?

We sort of drift deeper into the living room and end up sitting on the couch as Sam continues to listen and starts trying to calm her mom down. She looks at me and mouths, “Sorry.”

I nod.
It’s okay.

After about fifteen minutes, I’ve sent Ashley a text letting her know we’ll be a bit late and pieced together what’s going on. It sounds like Sam’s mom is on her way to getting divorce number four. Great.

Finally her mom’s calmed down and Sam’s trying to wrap things up. Then her mom says something that rubs Sam wrong, because she straightens and gets a hard look on her face. Her mom is still talking, but Sam stands abruptly, grabs her purse off the table, and gives a quick gesture toward the door that means,
Let’s just get the fuck out of here.

I follow Sam out, phone still to her ear. “Well, we’ll talk more later, Mom, okay?” she says. Her voice is tight and I have a feeling she’s about to go nuclear about something. We get to my truck and I open the door for her. I take her nearest hand, as well as her other arm, and give her some support. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve helped Sam climb into my truck in a nice dress and heels, so we manage it without forethought or comment.

When I get in myself, Sam’s saying, “I’m sorry, but I have to go. We have that dinner... No, it’s fine. You’re fine. We’ll talk later... Okay, bye.”

She pulls the phone away from her ear, taps disconnect with her thumb, and chucks it onto the seat between us.

“Fucking hell,” she says.

“She and Derek are splits, huh?”

Sam’s got her arms crossed now. She just grunts.

“Is she okay?”

“Peachy.”

I sigh. “What happened?”

“Oh, you know,” Sam says, tossing her hands up. “Derek is up to his old tricks and mom
just can’t understand it
.” Sam says this in her mocking voice, rolling her eyes. “You know, because she
love
s
him so much, or what the fuck ever. Well, this time
he’s
the one ending things, and it’s just as well, because otherwise mom would just hang on in that mess forever before finally getting up the balls to leave him.” Sam exhales sharply. “You know what she said to me?”

I don’t know if I want to know.

“She says he was
such a great guy at first.
” Sam gives me a withering look. “As
if.
She couldn’t spot a great guy if you knocked her upside the head with one. I called it, didn’t I? I knew it clear back when they were dating this was how it was going to end, but she was too fucking in love with that asshole to see it.”

Yeah. I’m definitely not saying a word right now. She just needs to blow off some steam and I’m just going to sit here and let her.

But Sam surprises me.

Instead of going off on things further, she folds her arms and looks out the passenger window. I wouldn’t worry about it if she merely looked pissed. Hell, she could just be taking a breather in between rants. No biggie.

But the look on her face, I admit it, has me worried. She looks thoughtful, and I don’t think she’s thinking about her mom anymore.

Fuck.

We’re practically to The Iron House, and I’m not so sure Sam’s in the right frame of mind for a dinner party. “Do you still want to go?” I ask. “I could take you home.”

She frowns at me. “I’m not missing this. Why would I do that to Ashley?”

“Okay,” I say, looking forward. “Just checking.”

Sam takes a deep breath. I glance over and see she’s trying to get herself together. I give her a few more minutes, letting her put her phone in her purse in silence. “Sorry,” she says tightly.

“For what?” I say lightly, trying to coax her into a better place.

She sighs, and says nothing.

Yeah, okay. It’s not a time for jokes.

I pull into the parking lot and find a spot. I kill the engine, but neither one of us moves. “Hey,” I say gently. She won’t look at me. “Hey,” I say again.

This time she looks over, and I’m not sure what to think about what I see. I really don’t know what she’s thinking. “Are you okay?” I ask.

She shrugs. “I didn’t care about the guy.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

She sighs, folding her arms again and looking out the windshield. “Mom’ll be fine eventually,” she says dully. “She’s been through it before.”

“That’s not what I meant either.”

She doesn’t move, but her brows furrow together and her face slowly softens. “I’m okay,” she says, softer now. “Let’s just... have a good time for Ashley’s sake, okay?”

She looks at me then. “Say something funny.”

I raise my eyebrows. “No pressure or anything.”

“I don’t want to carry this shit in there.”

I reach over and open the glove box. “Put your shit in there then,” I say. “If that doesn’t work, I’ll fuck your brains out right here in this truck until you’re screaming in ecstasy.”

She gives me a wry look. “Would that be for your benefit, or mine?”

I give her a sly smile and she blushes. God, I love that. She shuts the glove box and sticks her tongue out at me.

I grin. That’s my girl.

Thankfully I got to Sam’s house early enough that we’re only about ten minutes late to the restaurant, but everyone’s already here and gathered at a big, round table in one of The Iron House’s rear dining rooms. I’m bracing myself for some smart aleck comments about the fact that Sam and I are here together, but no one says a word about it. Not that we’re exactly giving them easy ammunition—I’m not holding Sam’s hand or pulling out her chair or really doing anything differently at all—but still, I figured we’d get some sort of shit when we got here. All that happens is Ashley gives us an appraising look, and Chloe and Isabella exchange what they think are sneaky grins, and that’s it.

I’m pretty proud of them. And grateful. Because Sam could use a breather right now. Honestly, I could too.

We’ve finished hearing the latest updates from Ashley and Erik about their tour—apparently things went successfully enough that their agent is starting to book them into some pretty serious venues for next summer—when Isabella says the last thing I expected to ever hear.

“So, Jack, how are things going with Emily?”

We’re in the starter course, so I’m conveniently swallowing some French onion soup when Bella asks me that. Now I’m not so conveniently choking on it and coughing and wondering what in the fuck’s going on.

Shane’s sitting next to me and gives me a couple hearty whacks on the back as I reach for my water. I’m not too distracted to notice Ashley and Sam exchanging uncomfortable glances.

Wait a minute. Ashley hasn’t said anything? The other girls don’t know? Now that I think about it, I guess they probably would’ve texted me if they did. But... that means Sam hasn’t told them either.

Why not?

I’m looking at her as I’m downing my water, but she’s struggling to maintain her composure too.

“You okay?” Isabella asks me.

No.

I nod and clear my throat. “We broke up,” I say. And I will never say one more word about that, in case you were wondering.

Isabella and Chloe grin at each other and then look at Sam.

Okay,
something’s
up. Do they know or not? Maybe this is their way of messing with us, but they just don’t know enough to leave Emily out of the conversation?

“Um...” Sam says, pinching her eyes closed and scratching the base of her neck.

‘Um’ is right. What do I say? Sam and I are hooking up? Sam and I are going out? (Not that we’ve really discussed things enough to define it, what with her being a skittish doe and all.) Or do I say the truth, which is I’m hopelessly in love with her and going to do everything in my power to marry her and keep her forever. If I can pull it off.

“We’re kind of...” Sam says, weakly gesturing between the two of us, “trying things.”

Okay, I can live with that for now, and at least she’s the one who said it. But there’s no containing the reaction around the table, especially from Isabella and Chloe.

“Well, it’s about damned time,” Isabella says, grinning.

Chloe has her hands clasped to her chest. “Oh my god!”

“Chloe,” Sam says lowly, rolling her eyes.

“Oh my god!” Chloe says again.

“Will you please not do that?” Sam says. She’s acting like her normal self, but not. I sense the tension underneath.

I’m with you, girl. I’m not comfortable either.

“What’s that mean, ‘trying things’?” Grayson asks.

I give him a look. Thanks, Grayson. Thanks a
lot.
He grins at me.

Okay, time to take things in a different direction and get back some control. “You know,” I say lightly, “trying things. Missionary. Doggie style. Reverse cowgirl.”

Sam’s gaping at me; everyone else is starting to laugh, though.

“Splitting bamboo,” I continue.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Sam says and everyone laughs. She’s grinning a bit, too, and I take a big breath. Okay, one hurdle down. Let’s move on to something else, shall we?

I ask Isabella how things are going with her job. After a few good-natured jabs about me trying to change the subject, they finally let it go and we all listen to Isabella getting us caught up on things.

But the situation isn’t as under control as I thought. As we move through the evening, no one can seem to resist interrupting the current topic of conversation to take the occasional jab at either Sam or me about this new development in our relationship. It’s harmless, really, except that it’s not. I know they don’t know what they’re doing, because Sam is doing a pretty admirable job shrugging it off (I’m doing my best, too), but I can sense the tension in her rising and rising.

Meanwhile, my thoughts keep returning to one potential problem: Sam didn’t tell a soul. Why not? Was she keeping a back door open for herself so she could more easily escape?

I admit, the whole thing has me a little on edge.