Ditching The Dream (Dream Series) (13 page)

His hands explored my back, my waist, my breasts. I desperately wanted my shirt off so I could have those hands on my skin. I had never felt so beautiful or desired. Everywhere his touch voyaged felt privileged to have been explored. I silently vowed to get a gym membership tomorrow, on my day off, to continue the routine I’d set-up back home.

He was half done with unbuttoning my shirt when it registered that he was undressing me in the hallway of his home. Before I could get myself to respond, he was pushing the fabric from my shoulders and stopping it at my elbows behind my back.

Jack stepped back to observe the view. My black satin bra was of fuller coverage than I’d have worn for a situation like this – had I actually been “on the market” so to speak.

“Satin is nice, but we can do so much better than this,” he muttered, bring his lips down to the top of my left breast, his hand cupping my right side. His thumb rubbed over the nipple that was growing taut.

Note to self, wear the good lacy bras from here on out.

I couldn’t say anything more as his mouth crashed upon mine, bringing up a desire in me that could only be matched by a wild forest fire. His lips on mine and his hands caressing my breasts, I felt myself grow slick between my legs. I don’t know that I’d ever felt like this.

My hands, which were resting on his hard chest, wishing to push back, found the buttons of his fine, surely custom, shirt and started to make quick work of the buttons without my permission. Pulling the tails out of his slacks to finish the unbuttoning, “That’s it,” he groaned into my mouth spurring me on.

The last two buttons undone, I pushed the shirt off of his shoulders and let it flutter to the floor. I finally pushed him back and took in the treasure that had been posted for years in magazines and on billboards. How I had not recognized Jack was beyond me, but
Sweet baby, Jesus!
The man had aged finer than a French cabernet.

His body was one hundred percent perfection. My eyes took in the whole view. His muscular shoulders, nearly bulging pecs, those abs, and the “happy trail”, as Jess always called it, leading down into the trousers that sat low enough on his waist to reveal the ‘V’. That trail let my mind to go to places leaving me quivering with the ‘perfection’ that could be below the waistline.

He stepped back into me, dropping his head to my ear. His hot breath caressing my neck and ear, making me shiver despite the growing heat, the flames licking every inch of my skin.

“God, Beth,” he moaned, leaning into me and pressing his erection into my stomach. “This is what I’m talking about. This. This has been between us since that first time I saw you. This need.”

Jack pulled back on one of the cups of my bra and stooped down to flick his tongue over the already tight bud. Clamping his whole mouth on my breast was my undoing. My knees started to buckle, but he caught me, his strong arm looped across my lower back, pulling me into his washboard abs.

I was feeling bold. I was feeling confident. I was feeling out of control.

He was right. This
something,
this
need
, between us was undeniable. Suddenly I was consumed with needing. I whimpered at my own desires, as my fingers fumbled with his belt. I slipped the belt from the loops and let it clatter to the hardwood floor. The clasp at the waistband was next, and behind the zipper his need was evident, straining for release.

Jack pulled back from my face only an inch or so and took hold of my wrists, his eyes hooded and dark. He searched my face looking for permission. Looking for submission. He had it. All of it.

In the next room I heard a cellphone start to ring, dragging me into reality. A custom ringtone – an old fashioned car horn – the ringtone I had set for my sister. She was calling back. I could get answers about why Jack was dubbed Jackass-Jack.

“I have to go. That’s my sister on the phone,” I panted, reluctantly pushing Jack away. But he wasn’t so quick to let me go.

“Your sister’s ring tone is an old fashioned car horn?” he asked.

“Well, she’s nearly eight years older than me and, like any good baby sister, I like to rub it in whenever I can.”

He smirked at my answer and let me go. I raced back to the living room, straightening my shirt along the way, and lunged for my purse to find my phone, but the ringing had already stopped.

“I should get going anyway,” I shouted to Jack, pulling my purse over my shoulder.

“You don’t have to run,” he said quietly in my ear, wrapping his arms around me from behind, causing me to jump right out of my skin. Not sure if I was jumping out of my skin from not knowing he was right behind me, or that his hands were once again on me. I melted a little and almost gave in when my phone started to wail with its ring tone for my sister again.

I steeled myself and took a cleansing breath. “I have to go. I’ll see you around.”

I wriggled myself out of his arms and made a dash to the front door, letting myself out. By the time the door was closed behind me, the ringing had stopped again.

On his front steps, I sat and collected my breath and thoughts. What happened in there? Why was I falling apart in the arms of another man? Were Greg and Jessica right? Was this why I had run away? No, surely not. I was exploring my strengths. And rebuffing the advances of another man was one of my strengths. Right?
But you did go to his house,
my personal, Jiminy Cricket chirped in my mind’s ear.
He’s just an old friend, from years back,
I reasoned with myself.

I looked at my cell phone and called my sister back.

I
watched her from the window to the side of the front door. I wanted her. And she needed me. She’s a natural submissive. When she was on her knees before me… The way she responded to my commands… My cock pulsed whenever she flashed those sultry brown eyes at me.

Although, I feared I’d come on too strong, too soon. Why did I do that? I was a bachelor. I didn’t need one woman. I had never wanted a woman to stay. If she left, she left. But, I didn’t want Beth to leave.

I needed sex. Who didn’t. That said, I was a one night stand of kind of guy. I didn’t have to ask for sex, it just happened because she wanted it. I didn’t force it. And I got my fair share… weekly.

Who could she be talking to at this hour of the night? It was probably her sister, but she should be calling a cab. That would be a good idea, but I had a better one. I pulled out my cell phone. I texted Anand, the company’s limo driver. I took him onto my payroll shortly after starting JSS. He drove all my girls home after an event, public or private.

Beth ran because she needed time, but hell if I wasn’t going to look out for her until she submitted to me wholly. Her body was very willing, her mind coming around. Next time. Next time, she would be mine. She was the one.

She was nervous, but a different kind of nervous. This bullshit story about her being married. Something’s not right there. Maybe she was married at some point, but she’s not in a committed relationship, that much I was certain of.

Where do I know her from?
I knew I’d seen her somewhere. But where? She wasn’t a model I’d worked with for sure. All the models I’d worked with had as much, if not more, confidence than me, and that was saying a lot. There was something deeper here.

I watched until the limo pulled up and offered her a ride. At first she declined, but then, observing my front door, she took the ride. Good. I knew that Anand would get her home safe and sound.

I wandered back into the living room, poured myself a scotch and sat in the chair she had been sitting in. I did my best to recall her scent. Not the steak and beer, but the shampoo that was still lingering in her hair, and the sweetness of the skin at her breasts. She was a breath of fresh air in that she was innocent, yet having experiences that lead her to look before she leapt. She had knowledge and wasn’t completely naive, but innocent enough to not comprehend the full scope of her influence. She was perfection.

Her skin, so smooth. She’d done well with sunscreen to prevent aging. In fact, if I had to wager a guess, she couldn’t be more than thirty-five. And those eyes. It was her eyes. Large and the deepest brown, almost black. Eyes that I could get lost in for days.

I replayed some of our dialogue in my head. I kept tripping over the fact that she had a sister. An older sister. Almost eight years older.
Wait a minute! Those eyes.
I set my scotch down and made my way to the storage room in the basement.

After pulling down a dozen boxes, I came across one labeled “From Home.” I pulled out my high school yearbooks and found my senior year. I quickly flipped through the pages until I found it. Those same eyes staring back at me. The face was a little different, but those eyes were just the same. Suzanne Morris. And Elizabeth was Suzie’s little sister.

My head flooded with memories of that summer with Suzie and Jenny. I was dating Jenny, but one night Suzie caught my eye. But Suzie only wanted Jenny. Maybe that was the allure. It was a wild summer. So what if I suggested that we had a threesome? Did that really make me a jackass? They called me Jackass Jack after that. My whole senior year. Hadn’t thought of that in ages. But those eyes…they never stopped haunting me. Maybe that’s why I only dated blue-eyed beauties.

Inspecting Suzie’s picture in the yearbook, the family resemblance was striking. I remember seeing Lizzie at Suzie’s place, always tucked in on the front porch swing reading a book. She couldn’t have been more than ten or eleven. Her hair in two long braids, one on each side. She was somehow alluring then, in her quiet way, but way too young.

But that was then. Age wouldn’t be an issue now.

“H
ey Liz, what’s up? I’m glad you called. Mom has been going batshit, calling me daily about getting in touch with you about your running away from ‘Mr. Personality.’”

“Sorry for putting you in that situation, Suze. I don’t know what I’m doing. I can’t handle Clarissa right now.”

“Well, she’s
not
happy. She’s seriously calling me daily begging me to call you and get this whole mess straightened out. I don’t like talking to her any more than you do. And like I can give you any advice on marriage.”

“Look, I’m just going through some stuff right now and I don’t know how to explain it to anyone, let alone mom and her
appearances-are-more-important
philosophy.”

“Well, you’ve got some balls, little sister. So, what the fuck with this cryptic message about some creep from thirty years ago and then don’t answer when I call you back?” Suzie growled into the phone. I must have caught her on a bad night. She probably had another argument with her partner, Cassie. Those two were the most passionate couple I’d ever known. They loved as hard as they fought and they did both with ridiculous frequency.

“I was – uh – talking to a friend and – hang on.” I started to finger at my new short locks and wondered what Suzie would say about it. Just then a limousine pulled up, and a nicely dressed man stepped out.

“Ms. Fairchild, Mr. Stevens has asked that I drive you home.”

“He what?” I gasped. I turned and looked back at Jack’s house. I saw the curtain in the side window move. He was watching me? He’d called a limo to take me home? Who does that?

“That’s okay, I’m –” I started.

“Mr. Stevens insists.” Suddenly feeling very tired, I chose to take the ride. I mean, he knew who I was, and he knows Jack. This had to be legit. “My name is Anand,” he continued as he walked around to the rear passenger door and opened it for me. I slipped in and made myself comfortable, taking in the luxurious interior. After he got in the front seat he turned to me. “Your address ma’am?”

“Right. Eightieth Street. Between Lexington and Third.”

“Very well.” And with that, he pulled away from Jack’s place and raised the smoked glass window, separating the back from the front.

“Lizzie!” Suzie barked from the phone.

“Sorry, Suze — I’m just heading home now.”

“What is going on?”

“It’s a long story. So – um – Jackass Jack? What’s the story?”