Phoenix Rising (5 page)

Chapter Five

It took Jessa four-and-a-half hours to get ready for work on that first morning. The first two hours were spent in bed trying to decide if she was actually going to get up and go. And it wasn’t the mad hangover keeping her in bed, either. She lay there and tried to recall the last time she’d had absolutely no real or imagined reason to get out of bed.

It would’ve been so easy to keep up the pretense of a busy charity worker. But sooner or later, those people would realize that Will had left her. And there could be nothing worse than that. She wasn’t ready for their false sympathy and prying. Hadn’t the charity work always been a cover up anyway? It’d been one of those things Jessa did to avoid the emptiness of her life.

She’d done everything right. She was on the right committees, associated with the right people, donated to the right charities, and said, thought, and did the right things. How had she wound up so utterly unnecessary?

And that’s basically what she was. But if she didn’t go to this new job, she was going to feel obligated to spend the rest of the day searching for another one. If Will was going to stop paying bills at the end of the summer, she was going to have to find some way to support herself. So she might as well make a few tips and see what it was like to be back out in the workforce.

With a thick sigh and what seemed like monumental effort, Jessa levered herself out of a bed that had become strangely unfriendly and padded into the closet. It wasn’t hard to imagine herself hiding under the covers all day. Hard to admit, but not hard to imagine. She was thirty-eight years old. The rational part of her brain was certain she was too old to work in a bar. Whether or not that was the case, she was too old to flounce around in a micro miniskirt and a crop top. Besides, middle-aged society wives did not wear miniskirts.

They wore pantsuits, a wardrobe choice that would not help the tip situation any. It’d been long years since her college days waiting tables. But if memory served, percentage of skin showing directly influenced percentage of check left as a tip.

It took almost forty-five minutes to lay out a pair of snug-fitting, somewhat flattering, trendy low-rise black slacks. The cap-sleeved top was comfy, showed a little bit of cleavage, and didn’t hang over her hips or butt. It was a huge concession as far as Jessa was concerned. But she didn’t want to work all night for no money. Of course, clothing wasn’t going to matter at all if she couldn’t lose the seriously-hung-over look.

Even after a nice hot shower, the reflection in the mirror looked haunted. Dark smudges below her eyes added years to Jessa’s face. And the pallor of her skin made the sprinkle of freckles across her cheeks seem unnaturally dark.

She almost went back to bed. Nobody was going to tip the old hag a few extra bucks for a drink.

The thought of tips made her cringe. It’d been years since Jessa had waited tables. What if she folded under the pressure?

A few deep breaths seemed to help bring things back into perspective. It was a bar. And it wasn’t exactly a nice bar. It wasn’t as if they had a gourmet kitchen with a five star menu to memorize. Not to mention the unlikelihood of embarrassing herself in front of anyone she knew. Besides, Alex had seemed very nice. She might even have fun working with him.

Which brought the subject back around to Connor.

What kind of a man acted like that? He was a big sexy bastard, too arrogant by half.

But he wasn’t. There hadn’t been one trace of arrogance in the way he’d acted the night before. He’d been polite while doing his job, cordial when offering her a job, and solicitous about making certain Jessa was okay after she’d overdone it.

But what about after that? What about the highhanded way he’d justified the blatant exchange of exhibitionism and voyeurism going on in his bar? Connor had passed judgment on her without knowing anything about her. His pronouncement that she belonged in a hedonistic place like that was ludicrous.

She shouldn’t go back. Jessa had no business being in a place like that much less being employed there. She didn’t belong there. Not really. Not anymore. Perhaps once in her life, before Will, before she’d transformed herself into the perfect example of wifely restraint.

That, of course, was easily dealt with. After all, Jessa could always walk away from the bar if she got sick of Connor.

Get sick of Connor? Who was she kidding?

A mental photograph of Connor popped into her mind with almost no effort. Tall, heavily muscled, bronzed skin, in short he had the body of an Adonis. It was altogether too easy to recall the sexy-as-hell bow of his upper lip as it glistened with moisture. And it was impossible to forget the sensational lust she’d experienced at the mere sound of his voice.

The white cotton bathrobe was suddenly too warm. The weight of it against her flushed skin was simultaneously too much and not enough. Jessa’s breathing quickened. Heat bloomed between her thighs.

What was wrong with her? She didn’t lose control of herself like this.

Jessa tore her gaze away from the mirror’s reflection and turned on the faucet. The cold water cooled her skin. But nothing could put out the raging fire inside her body.

Nothing but a thorough fucking.

Jessa didn’t waste time reprimanding her mind on its dirty thoughts. She turned the water off and made a split second decision. It wasn’t something she did very often. Consequences were carefully weighed against gains before decisions were made and executed in the best possible manner. But this had gone far past the point of no return.

The dildo was where she’d left it, safely buried at the bottom of a lingerie drawer she never used. Jessa tossed half a dozen rarely used pairs of satin panties to the floor in her haste. The massive thing was flesh colored and covered in some kind of cyberskin that claimed a realistic feel. At that point, she was past caring.

Jessa lay on her back in the middle of the bed. One shaky hand untied the belt of her robe. The sides fell open and Jessa was more exposed than she had been in long years. The bedroom door was wide open and it was light outside. She’d been a late-at-night-in-the-dark-with-the door-closed-and-locked kind of girl her whole life.

The ceiling fan whirred above. Cool air wafted over her heated skin. Jessa’s nipples jutted into the air when her areolas puckered against the unfamiliar stimulation. Tentatively running a hand over her breast, Jessa rolled one nipple between thumb and forefinger. Blood rushed in, hardening it into a tiny point. It swelled and elongated between her fingers. The sensation was wonderful. A zing pulsed from breast to clitoris. Feeling braver, she wetted her fingers on her tongue and opened her imagination.

The first thing that popped into Jessa’s mind was the couple she’d seen in the shadowy back corner of the bar. His tongue had laved all around her taut pink nipple before drawing it deep into his mouth and suckling it to throbbing awareness. Jessa slid her other hand down her abdomen, tickling her belly. Her breath caught as the muscles shrank away and quivered at her tentative touch.

Connor wouldn’t have been timid. There was nothing timid about that man. But thoughts of Connor should not have slipped into her mind. He was forbidden, even more so than what Jessa was doing.

But really, what was so bad about self-stimulation? Why had it always made her feel dirty, as if she should be hiding beneath the covers in the dark? Shoving the jumble of questions and ideas away, Jessa focused on her body. Especially on the delicious sensations she was feeling.

Still working her nipples between her fingertips in turn, Jessa’s other hand drifted lower. She hesitantly ran her fingers through the soft curls between her legs. A thrumming tension gathered in her legs. Jessa imagined a pair of hands lifting her legs and spreading them wide. Then a thick, hard cock ready to push into her body.

Her hand left her breasts and slid lower to spread her pussy lips wide. The air cooled her slick folds but only served to increase the aching want. Jessa sucked in a deep breath and slid her fingers boldly over the engorged folds of her vagina. Her back arched and a rush of hot cream drenched her hand as she savored the silky softness of her tender flesh.

The swollen entrance to Jessa’s vagina was thick with her own juices. Every heartbeat brought on a new gush of sweet cream. Her fingers were sopping, sliding wetly across her labia. Jessa spread her fingers and straddled her clitoris. When she flexed her wrist against the pubic bone, it sent her fingers sliding up and down her silky slit. It was maddening to have the friction so close to the swollen tip of her clit.

When she couldn’t take any more, she rested two fingertips against the sensitive hood of her clit and applied gentle pressure. Her hand moved quickly. The movement combined with her creamy juices to create a wet sound that was strangely erotic.

Eyes closed, she thought of Alex touching his lover’s pussy. Jessa wanted to feel that arousal, to smell and taste the excitement. Jessa wanted a man to fuck her like that. As if the only place he wanted to be was straining between her legs until he spilled his cum deep inside her womb.

Reaching down, Jessa wrapped one hand around the cool smoothness of the dildo. She imagined it hot and pulsing with life, eager to push its way inside her vagina. She gently ran the crown over her slit to lubricate the dildo with the cream rushing from her pussy. Relishing the feel of it slipping over the sensitive hood of her clit, she positioned the enormous cock at the entrance to her swollen sex.

Jessa was positively aching. Every nerve from waist to toes was in flames. Her breasts were heavy, her nipples hard as diamonds. The anticipation of feeling that firm cock slamming into her vagina released another gush of cream from deep inside her body. There was a longing inside that had never been so acute.

Jessa closed her eyes and pushed the cock deep on the first thrust. It was thick, thicker than anything she’d ever felt inside her vagina before. Her hips bucked involuntarily to ease the insertion. The movement sent the cock further inside, bumping lightly against her cervix. Jessa had never realized how empty she was inside. The dildo’s smooth length caressed the ribbed muscles of her pussy with gentle insistence. She’d never felt so full in her life. There was a sucking noise as Jessa pulled the dildo away from her vagina to prepare for another hard thrust. As she continued this rhythm, the wet sound increased before evolving into a slapping, smacking noise that was sexier than she ever would’ve expected.

Jessa’s sex grew swollen. Numb fingers kept the hood of her clit pinned wide open. By teasing the nub at its most sensitive point, she was rewarded with a shudder that rippled through her body. The cock slid further in. Heat pooled at the base of Jessa’s spine, dripping down the backs of her legs and making her buttocks tingle.

A sound reverberated off the bedroom walls. It took several screams for Jessa to realize the voice was hers. A wave of tension hardened the muscles of her backside. The heat inside her pussy intensified. Another surge of cream saturated the dildo as Jessa increased the thrusts and fucked her pussy harder. She could feel the peak coming and rushed to meet it.

Her mind spun out of control, locking briefly on images of Alex’s hard cock thrusting in and out, the Gothic Princess on the counter, the random couple screwing on the table…herself bent over the mahogany bar, Connor’s huge cock pulsating with life as it slammed in and out of her pussy. Images of Connor, dripping sweat off his clean-shaven head while grasping her hips and fucking her senseless.

No. Connor had no place in her life. Certainly not in her sex life. And yet the image wouldn’t quit.

Heat enveloped her body and her vagina exploded into orgasm. The undulating waves crashed, tremors seizing her body and forcing the cock to slow as her hand was soaked from a massive spurt of her own cream.

Dazed, it took Jessa several breaths to realize that she’d ejaculated. She didn’t do that. Not with Will, not on her own. Was there something wrong with her that her body seemed to crave such things?

The thoughts went round and round in Jessa’s head as she lay on the bed and waited for the room to stop spinning.

Her imagination had always been quite vivid. But she’d never let go so completely. She’d never thrown all sense of propriety to the winds and let it conjure up whatever fantasies it wished.

Connor may have been the sexiest man she’d ever laid eyes on. But he’s wasn’t for her. She didn’t lose control like that. It was preposterous! Other people debased themselves to rut like animals in heat. This was not Jessa Kincaid!

Connor’s words slid unbidden through her mind.
“It’s the kind of place you belong, even if you can’t admit it yet.”

What did he know? He certainly didn’t know Jessa. He didn’t know a single thing about her. She was a boring housewife. She had chaired the Fireman’s Ball last year for goodness sake! This was all just some kind of mid-life crisis.

She latched onto that thought almost instantly. Jessa sat up and pulled her robe closed before sliding off the bed.

She was going through a mid-life crisis. Her husband had only just left her, and now she was preparing for a divorce. The situation was making her act a little differently than usual, that’s all.

The idea left her feeling a little better. The dildo was still sitting on the bed. Jessa lifted it gingerly between thumb and forefinger. After washing it in the sink, she hid it away in the drawer, never to be seen or heard from again.

As if.

* * *

Connor had regained his iron-fisted self-control by the time noon rolled around. He was double-checking a shipment of top shelf liquor when the front door swung open. Connor didn’t have to look to know it was Jessa.

The tightly leashed, savage beast inside him could sense her almost immediately. It howled and snarled and rattled the bars of its cage. But years of discipline had taught Connor to ignore the ravings of his inner animal in favor of rational thought. If he ever let go of that discipline, he might well find himself humping her like a dog.