So. Long.: Bad Boy Next Door (32 page)

Bull sniffs at the edge of the water.

Jackson deepens his tone and says, “Don’t even think about
it. You just had a bath.”

He turns to me. “The pool was already here. I probably
wouldn’t have built it, but I’ve enjoyed the shit out of it.” His voice rolls
over me like warm caramel sauce on ice cream.

“I can only imagine.” My breath has officially been stolen.

Bull and I follow Jackson to the top floor.

Master’s level, he calls it. Yeah, master of my libido. A
giant king sized bed sits on the far wall, perfectly made up, not a wrinkle in
sight. I could wrinkle it up pretty good with Mr. Tremaine right about now.

And that’s all it takes. One thought, and my pussy pulses.

Jack opens the double doors at the end of the long room.
“And here’s the master bath, all ready for you.”

“What?
Me
?” I pull in a breath, trying to calm my
suddenly abnormal heart rate.

He takes my hand, massaging my pinky knuckle, and pulls me
into a room almost as large as the bedroom.

Holy-rich-fuck-smokes.

The free-standing tub must be hewn from one piece of stone,
black with small hints of other colors. It reflects its surroundings like someone
spent an afternoon polishing it. Steamy bubbles rise well above the rim like so
much cotton candy.

I swallow hard. I so don’t belong in this room. The chasm
between Jack’s world and my own just grew by about fifty million dollar-length
spaces.

“What’s wrong, Peaches?” Jack pulls my hand to his mouth and
lays a slow, sweet kiss on my palm.

I whip around, heading for the doors. “I probably should get
home. This is so
not
my speed.”

He takes my elbow, pulling me up short and right into his
arms. “What
speed
? I don’t understand. I thought you’d want to clean up
and get the blood out of your hair.”

“Yeah. No.”

He cocks his head. “Why not?”

I lay my hand over the circular, tribal tattoo on his naked
chest. The one I’d really like to lick. But no. It’s not even an option.

“I can’t tell you how kind you’ve been. Honestly, it’s a
wonderful side of you that I didn’t expect. But this,”—I tap his chest—“
this
can’t go on. You and me? Two totally different worlds. I don’t even understand
why you’d be attracted to me. I’m so far removed from the girls I’ve seen you
with on the covers of the rag sheets.”

He takes my hands and pulls them to his lips. “What you see
isn’t always what’s real. This is Hollywood. The land of make-believe. You see
what the press wants you to see, what my PR team pushes out to the public. Don’t
worry. You’re my type.”

I purse my lips. “What type is that, exactly?”

His eyebrows go up, and he has that deer in the headlights
look. But then, that sexy ass grin blows me away. “The smart type. A woman who’s
driven to succeed at whatever she chooses to do. One whose natural sex appeal
calls to mine so loudly that I can’t walk away.”

Wow. What a load of bullshit.

I shake my head with a half smile at his attempts to—I don’t
know—woo me into his bed?

He lets go of my hands and finds my ass, cupping it and
pulling me into his erection. I can still taste him.

Oh. Lord. I’m done for.

Jackson drops a kiss on my mouth as he grabs my tit with his
other big hand, massaging. “A
real
woman, not some plastic, hollow shell
of what a woman should be. A woman with curves that fill my hands and promise a
ride that’s going to rock my world ten different ways.”

There are words somewhere, but they’ve all hidden, or maybe
they’ve been incinerated by the heat firing up my lower belly. I can’t find
even one.

He whispers, “I want to explore every curve, every crevice,
every spot that brings you pleasure. Because in your fulfillment, I’ll find mine.”

I pant, short little bursts of air between lips that crave
his cock and more. His eyes search mine, and I can’t tear my gaze away.

Shit. Isn’t it just my luck?

I lick my lips.

“You know—” My voice is hushed as he leans down so his ear
is close to my mouth, like he’s prepared to hang on every word.

“Know what, Peaches?” His eyes come to mine, intense and
burning with desire.

“If I wash my hair, without any of my hair products for
afterward, I’ll look like a poodle, all ready for the Westminster Dog Show.”

For about three seconds, confusion takes over his facial
expression. Then his eyes light and he lets go of me, throws his head back, and
laughs, hard and loud. When his eyes meet mine again, they sparkle almost as
much as the pool outside.

He takes my chin and pulls me to him, laying a hard kiss on
my mouth. “I don’t want to make love to your hair. I like it and everything,
but that isn’t at all what makes my cock hard when I think of you. When I look
at you. When the breeze carries a scent that reminds me of you.”

I step away from him, toward the bathtub. Before I let
myself think about it too much, I whip my top over my head. It bites a little
when it brushes my injury, but this will be worth it, I’m sure.

The two sports bras have to go. That’s trickier. I struggle
a bit to get them both up and over my breasts at the same time. Getting them
off my crossed arms is even worse.

Bull’s nails click on the tile as he prances around me,
barking as though he thinks I’m starting a game.

What the fuck?
SO
not sexy. So
NOT
sexy.

My ears heat. Thank God I can’t see Jack’s face right now. I
probably look like some sort of lunatic, struggling to get out of a straight
jacket. There has
got
to be a better way.

Jackson employs the tone from earlier. “Bull. NO. Go lay
down.”

The clickety- click of the dog’s nails fades as he leaves
the room.

Jackson coughs as he lays his hands on my waist. “Let me
help.”

If I could face-palm right now, I would. But my arms are
trapped in two layers of super-strength spandex, designed to keep my Double-D
girls from blacking my freaking eyes when I play sports.

He tugs up, and I try to pull down to help. My loosed boobs
bounce willy-nilly as we fight over control of the layered bras. It seems to
make things worse when the bottom edge, which is now at the top, rolls under
itself and tightens the noose that’s probably going to strangle my sex appeal.

He says, “Be still and let go. I’ll get it.”

My death certificate will read,
Official cause of death: Mortification
.

I hold still and let go. Of my pride. Of my sanity.

This beautiful man—a man who could have any gorgeous
Hollywood starlet he wants—is going to yank and tug. He’ll probably have to push
me to the floor so he can use his foot on the top of my head as leverage to free
me from my damn-dems-some-big-titties bra.

He’s going to laugh.

I’m going to die.

EIGHT

With one quick jerk, I’m free. The air rushes in to cool my
scalding cheeks. I drop the not-so-sore side of my forehead into my palm,
propping my elbow on the arm tucked over my liberated tits.

I should do something. I
know
there’s an appropriate
thing to do when the guy you want to have sex with has had to exert physical
labor to free you of your clothing. Whatever that thing is escapes me at the
moment.

I sigh. That’s the extent of my coping skills for this
particular situation. I need to study dealing with embarrassing situations. I
could write a book based on my own first-hand experiences.

Large hands circle my wrists. They tug gently.

I tighten up. “Not ready.”

He gets on his knees in front of me and peeks around my arm.

Looking up at me, he smiles and runs his palms over my
thighs, still encased in my pants. “That was fun. Let’s do it again.”

He licks his lips, and I roll my eyes.

“I promise that all my bras aren’t that hard to get out of.”

He pulls my hand to his shoulder, and then he unties my
shoes, removing them while I use him to balance.

I let out a huff. “I can’t believe that wasn’t the biggest
turn-off ever.”

He hooks his fingers into my waistband and peels my pants
down to my ankles. “Are you shitting me? Those tits are fucking epic. And to
watch them bounce?
Damn
, woman. I can’t wait to set you astride my cock
and see how high I can get them to go.”

I smack his shoulder. “You’re a mess.”

“And you’re hot as fuck. I want to spend a week satiating
this hunger.” He slides his fingers under the elastic of my panties and drags
them down.

He leads me to the tub, holding my hand as I step in. Warm
enough to sting a bit, but not burn. I sit, sinking up to my ears in bubbles.

I lean back as Jackson yanks his shorts down over his very
erect cock. My mouth waters, and my core clenches. He’s possibly the most
beautiful man ever.

He wraps his fingers around his dick and pushes and pulls
his hand up and down it a couple of times, his eyes hot and on me. “See this?
That’s what you do to me, Peaches. I’ve been walking around with a half-boner
pretty much since we met. And when I see you, it’s all I can do to keep it in
my pants.”

I swish the water around me. “Well, don’t feel too bad. I
have lady-wood whenever you’re anywhere in the immediate vicinity. That’s not
something I’ve ever experienced before.”

“Yeah?”

I shrug. “Yeah. Now, are you getting in here with me or are
you just posing for my viewing pleasure while I bathe?”

“Yes, I’m getting in. But let me get us a couple of drinks.”

He steps out of the bathroom, but he’s back before I can
even get my hands between my legs to give my clit a little rub. I move my legs
up to the side of the tub. But he comes to the end where I lounge.

I take the offered glass of wine.

He’s still standing there. His cock is right there.

I grasp his hard-on with my bubble-covered hand. “Aren’t you
getting in?”

“Yes, as soon as you scoot up so I can slide in behind you.”

I move. He steps in and sits with his legs on either side of
me. Reaching around, he grabs my tits and rolls my nipples between his thumbs
and forefingers, sending a zing of pleasure straight to my cunt.

Fishing around in the water behind me, I take hold of his cock.
We massage each other for a few seconds before he pulls away.

“What’s wrong?”

He downs the rest of his wine.

“I’m going to wash your hair.” He draws me to him until my
back is against his chest. His cock presses into me, keeping me high on
anticipation.

With his wine glass, he dips water to pour over my head,
careful to keep it out of my closed eyes.

This isn’t a rich man’s house. This is Heaven. Maybe I did
die of mortification, and, because it was such a horrible death, God has
granted me an eternity with this angelic version of Jackson Tremaine.

He’s gentle, especially around the stitched wound. His
fingers lightly rub circles over my head, lathering my hair. My clit beats with
my heart, ready for Jackson to turn his attention to other, more important,
places.

“You grow up in Oklahoma?”

I lean back, so I can see his face. “How’d you know I’m from
Oklahoma?”

“I’m good at placing accents, I guess. Plus, I grew up in
Louisiana. But I’ve been to Oklahoma. I actually spent a little time there as a
guest of the Office of Juvenile Affairs Correction Facility. That’s how I met
Bax. We’ve been friends ever since.”

I run my hands down his legs, the hair on them tickling my
fingers where it floats in the water. “Really? I never would’ve known that you’re
from Louisiana. Where’s your Cajun accent?”

“We don’t all sound like Cajuns.” He chuckles. “Well, I did
a little, but when I got out here and started acting, I ended up paying a voice
coach to overcome the handicap. Landed a lot more parts without the accent.”

“So…juvie, huh?”

He shrugs as he ladles water over my soapy hair. “Yeah. I
was sixteen. I’d decided to move to Oklahoma to find my dad. Unfortunately, I
didn’t find Dad before trouble found me. Got in with the wrong crowd, and
basically everything that entails. Luckily, I got picked up early. I did my
time, and the judge who sent me there was waiting for me outside the gate when
they let me out. He took me to stay with his dad.”

“Oh?” My heart cringes thinking about a sixteen-year-old on
his own.

“Yeah, he was a curmudgeon, but he was also funny. He took
me in for the next two years—he made me finish high school, put up with my teenage
shit, and then helped me figure out what I wanted to do with my life. He was
even supportive when I told him I’d decided to come to Hollywood.”

I smile, leaning my head against his collar bone. “Well, you
certainly have succeeded. I can only imagine how hard you must’ve worked to get
to where you are at your age. Wait, how old
are
you?”

He drops a kiss on my temple. “Worried that you’ve hooked up
with an old man?”

I shrug. “Some people look younger than they are.”

“I’ll be thirty-one in August.” He jostles me. “How old are
you?”

“What? You afraid you’ve hooked up with a minor?”

“No. Not worried about that at all. I actually know you’re
twenty-four, and possibly the youngest self-help book author I’ve ever
interviewed. I wanted to see if you’d lie.”

I splash water into his face. “Why would I lie?”

“Some people lie about their age.”

“Well I wouldn’t.”

When my hair is rinsed, he takes the loofah and the soap,
rubbing them together until the sponge bubbles with lather. He takes his time
massaging circles over my body, my arms, my belly, my back, and even my thighs
and calves, though he has to move to the other end of the tub for that.

Now, we sit face to face in the warm water, the bubbles
dissipating. They no longer cover my floating tits, and Jackson’s hard cock is
visible under the water.

I take his erection in hand and rub my thumb over the head.
Again, my mouth waters as I recall my tongue bumping over the ridges of the
vein that runs up the side of it. “Are you done here? Because I think I’m ready
to get out.”

He stands, water running off of him, his cock at the perfect
place to get my mouth on it. Before he can step out, I take hold again.

I pull him closer. “I want to have a quick taste.”

His fists flex as he smiles down on me. “Please, anytime you
think you want a taste, feel free. Any time.”

I lick the end of his cock, swirling my tongue over its
head. Then I take him in, sucking as I go, deeper and deeper. I can’t possibly
get his entire dick in my mouth, but that doesn’t stop me from trying. His warm
ball sack is heavy in my hand as I gently massage him.

Pulling back, I let his cock pop free of my mouth. “And you
aren’t the only one who likes to see things bounce.”

He rests his hands at his hips. “You’re something, Peaches.”

I lick his cock up one side, around the tip, and down the
other.

Jack pulls back. “Whoa. Let’s get out of the tub and take
this party somewhere a bit more comfortable.”

I lay back and circle my nipples with my fingernails. “I am
comfortable.”

He reaches down and pulls me up, until I’m sliding against
him. His hard-on presses into my belly. The pressure in my core tightens a
notch.

After he steps out onto the thick rug, he brings a giant
bath sheet over and holds it out by the corners. “C’mon.”

I step into it, and he wraps me up like a burrito.

He takes his towel, swiping at the water clinging to his
skin and securing it at his waist.

Taking me by the hand, he leads me into the bedroom—but not
to the bed, as I expect. Instead, he leads me to a sofa, which is turned so the
occupant can look out the picture window that faces LA. There aren’t any
curtains or sheers, just a window, wide open for anyone to look in.

“Don’t you worry that people can see inside?”

He shakes his head. “Nah. The glass has a reflective
coating. Even when the lights are on in here, no one could see in.”

He pulls his towel off and nabs mine as well, letting them
drop to the floor.

“So, if I were to, oh, say…”—he walks me backward until my butt
is against the window—“press a beautiful woman’s ass against the glass, those
poor bastards down there wouldn’t even get a glimpse.”

His hand finds the very wet spot between my legs. He tickles
my clit as his mouth comes down on mine. The warmth of his tongue dancing with
mine chases away the chill of the glass against my skin.

With one hand at my crotch, the other on my breast, he turns
me around and we end up on the sofa. His expert kisses and the way his hands
explore my body have the juices flowing, and my pussy is in a frenzied state of
anticipation.

He rolls to his back and pulls me over him so I’m straddling
him. He’s not inside me, though his balls are under my ass and his cock is
between the lips of my pussy, its head only a few inches from my clit, all pink
next to my dark skin and so beautiful together that I’d like a picture to blow
up and hang above my bed.

Though I doubt he’d let me take a picture of his dick, even
if my pussy is right there in the photo with it.

I giggle. “Uh oh—is it time for the bouncing to begin?”

He shakes his head and pulls me down so that my breasts are
flat against his pecs and whispers, “Nope. I want to make sure you’re taken
care of. That’s how it gets done in this bedroom. This is our first time
together, and you’ve got me so fucking hot, I can’t even tell you if I’ll last
ten fucking seconds before I blow my wad. So, you get yours first.”

His words are a caress as much as a promise.

I pull back and stare into his sage green eyes.

His smile spreads as he takes my tits in his hands and
gently squeezes. “I could stare at these all day and never tire of them.”

I outline his flat nipple with my fingernail and drag it
down so it bumps over his abs, and then I circle the head of his erection. “You
could model.”

“I used to do a little modeling before I got my big break.”

“Of course. I forget who I’ve got here.”

In one stealthy move, he flips me over so I’m the one on the
couch. He grabs me behind my knees and pulls me down until my ass is almost off
the cushion. “Let’s get you comfortable. I’m going to make sure you don’t
ever
forget Jackson Tremaine again.”

Electric anticipation zigzags through me, straight to my
lady parts.

I’m splayed on the sofa before him, his hands skimming along
my thighs from my knees to my hips. The way his skin contrasts with my darker
shade is almost as much of a turn on as his beautiful body positioned between
my legs.

His thumbs converge on my pussy. One slides between the lips,
dipping into my already soaked entrance. “Hell yeah.”