Blue Balls Page 3

  Shifting with the intention of dropping down to get “better acquainted” with JJ—yes, I’ve already nicknamed Jack Jr.—Jack’s firm grip on my upper arms draws me to a stop. My eyes dart up to his in question, and I find him watching me with the slightest smirk playing on his lips. His eyes are slightly glassy from the number of drinks we’ve had tonight, but he still seems alert and “in the game.”

  “Not yet.” God, that sexy smirk combined with the deep, rich sound of his voice sends tingles straight down to my core, making me squeeze my legs together to ease the pressure.

  Abruptly, he rids himself of his sharp black dress shoes and kicks off his pants, standing before me in his suit jacket, button-down shirt, and boxer briefs, and I swear to you, my ovaries are practically chanting his name. Jack, Jack, Jack. Suddenly, I’m scooped up in his arms.

  When is the last time I had a guy pick me up like I weighed next to nothing—no groaning or anything—to carry me off for sexy times? Hmmm, let me think about that.

  The answer is never. Which makes this even more memorable.

  “Pulling out all the stops tonight, aren’t you?” My voice is breathless, and I loop my arms around his neck as he carries me to the bedroom. Soft shards of moonlight are streaming through the small slats of the venetian blinds, casting an ethereal glow upon the room.

  Setting me on my feet beside the bed, he turns me around, gliding his hands over my cardigan and tossing it aside. Once he removes the clips from my hair, his fingers drape my hair over one shoulder, pressing a light kiss to the nape of my neck. He caresses my bare shoulders before tracing a finger down the middle of my back and sliding down the zipper of my dress. The fabric gives way and falls in a heap at my feet, leaving me clad in only my bra and heels.

  He releases a long exhale, and his hot breath washes over my skin. “Your ass”—he slips a hand down, fingertips grazing my skin—“is so fucking hot.”

  I’m startled at the sudden nip on my shoulder, but he immediately soothes it with his tongue and lips. Another hand slips around to cup the fullness of my right breast, his thumb dipping into my bra to slide across a pebbled nipple. “I can’t wait to put my mouth on these.” The feel of the slightly calloused pad of his thumb elicits a gasp, and I arch into his touch.

  Spinning around, I make quick work of tugging off his suit jacket before tackling the buttons of his shirt with much less grace than I’d like to admit, but time is of the essence here. This man needs to be naked, and I need his skin on mine—stat.

  Gazing up into his eyes, heavy-lidded with arousal, I whisper, “You won’t need to go to the gym tomorrow morning, either, buddy.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Jack

  Sarah’s practically shredding my shirt in her haste to remove it, and if it were under any other circumstance, I’d be pissed since it’s Armani and cost an arm and a leg. However, I want to be rid of my clothes just as badly—if not more—as she does. The urge to feel her silky soft flesh against mine without the barrier of clothing is excruciatingly fierce.

  Tossing my shirt aside, I reach around to find the clasp of her bra and let it drop at our feet. Nothing could prevent me from taking those luscious breasts in my hands, cupping their weight, and dipping my head to take one nipple in my mouth. I suckle it before laving it with my tongue.

  Sarah’s hands tug at the waistband of my boxer briefs, dragging them down, and I kick them off to the side. The second my dick is released from its constraints, and her petite hand grasps it, it takes everything in my power not to come right then. Her soft palm grips me, gliding up and down in slow, steady strokes before she slides the pad of her thumb over the tip, gathering the moisture there.

  But that’s not what has me nearly losing my mind. What makes my entire body shudder in anticipation of those lips wrapping around my cock is when she brings her thumb to her lips and sucks it clean.

  Gripping her waist, I steady her as she steps out of her heels. I lift her, and she settles onto the bed. Her blond hair fans against the pillow, and her chest rises and falls likely with the same anticipation I feel.

  Joining her, I prop myself up on my forearms, and the instant my flesh meets hers, neither of us can resist the low hiss that escapes our lips. I feel singed by the contact, the heat radiating through my body. When I capture her mouth, the way she returns the kiss with such passionate abandon sends shards of gratification through me. As I rock my hips slightly, the tip of my cock rubs against her clit, and the tiny groan in the back of her throat urges me on.

  I tear my lips from hers and slip down her body, dropping kisses along the beautiful landscape of curves and softness until I’m between her slim thighs and my hands press her legs wider. Placing my mouth over her, I slip my tongue inside, and my cock jerks at the first taste of her.

  My tongue darts and retreats, and her hips begin to move in response. She works herself against my mouth, her fingers entwining in my hair. As her whispered moans and the tightening of her firm thighs indicate she’s nearing her orgasm, I slide up her body. I have to be inside her.

  Now.

  Pressing a gentle kiss to her lips, I gaze down into her eyes. With my hands framing her face, I skim my thumbs across her cheekbones. And I can’t help but be a bit awed by the fact that I’ve put that hunger in her eyes. I’m the cause for the light catch in her breath.

  “You’d better be about to grab a condom.” Her words are breathless and belie the demanding tone—the typical, no-nonsense Sarah I’ve come to know.

  Grinning down at her, I can’t resist teasing her. “I’m actually kind of hung—” My words are cut off when she tugs me closer, and it throws me a bit off-balance.

  Damn. Maybe I shouldn’t have had that last drink at Max Londons.

  “Condom,” she murmurs huskily. “Now.”

  The fact that she’s resorting to brief, staccato commands spurs me on. Reaching over to my bedside table, I pluck a condom packet and quickly sheath myself. I’m at the precipice of pain with how hard I am right now. Pressing my tip to her entrance, I lock my gaze with hers, and something I can’t decipher flashes in her eyes.

  Sliding my thumb across her cheekbone, I whisper, “You’re beautiful.”

  A soft smile plays at her lips. “Quit stalling, Westbrook.” Her smile widens saucily. “I’ve been waiting a long time for you.”

  I’ve been waiting a long time for you. Her words rattle around my mind before they slide down, leaving a trail of warmth behind.

  The thick head of my cock nudges against her opening, and I shift my hips, watching as her eyes fall closed. Her thighs tighten around my waist, and her responsiveness emboldens me further. Just as I press firmly, sliding my length inside her inch by inch, her lips part on an inaudible gasp. I duck my head and give into my urge at the same moment her inner muscles clench around me.

  My teeth sink into the side of her neck as I work my cock in a little deeper. Then she’s suddenly shoving me away, her palms pressing insistently against my chest.

  I lift to brace my weight above her and peer down with concern. She moves a hand to her neck, staring up at me with eyes wide with shock. “What the hell was that?”

  Shit. What did I do?

  “What was what?” Jesus. Is it just dark in here or is my vision becoming hazy?

  “Dude. You bit me.” Her tone holds a mixture of disbelief and accusation. “Hard.”

  “Sorry,” I offer with a sheepish smile. “I guess I got a little carried away.” I swear, I read in Cosmo or Glamour that women got off on biting. Maybe I did it too hard?

  Her lips quirk up at the corners. “Tone it down on the biting, Westbrook.” She wraps a hand around the base of my neck, drawing me down for a kiss, and I slip farther inside, both of our moans muffled by our joined lips.

  Once I’m buried deep inside her, I work my hips, thrusting in and out slowly before quickening my pace. She breaks the kiss, and her lips part as she throws her head back on the pillow.

  She is the most gorgeou
s sight I’ve ever seen.

  Judging by the way her inner muscles tighten around me and the way her breathing has become staggered and harsh, much like my own, I know she’s about to find her release. I anticipate feeling her pussy spasm all around me and can’t resist trailing kisses down the column of her neck down to her collarbone. An idea hits me, and as I hike up one of her legs and bend it at the knee, I look forward to seeing how wild she’ll get.

  “Who’s my naughty girl?” I ask, spanking the side of her hip.

  “Jesus!” She shoves me even harder than before—hard enough that I land beside her. Her hand flies to the side of her hip to gingerly rub the area I just spanked.

  “That hurt.” She stares at me incredulously before scrambling off the bed, grabbing my shirt, and pulling it on quickly before tossing over her shoulder, “I have to…use the restroom.”

  With a frustrated groan, I fling an arm over my eyes. Fuck. I really thought she’d like that. Sarah seems like the type of woman who’d be on board with it. Obviously, an awkward as hell nerd can grow up and discover contact lenses and better clothing, but when it comes to women, it’s the same old story.

  Clueless as hell.

  Damn it. Removing my arm from my face, I peer down at my dick. I’ve never been so hard before in my life. And judging by the way she sprinted off to the bathroom, I’m guessing I’m in for a horrendous case of blue balls.

  After tossing the condom in the waste bin by my bed, I roll onto my side and tug the pillow closer, breathing in the faint scent lingering from her hair. When my eyesight grows fuzzy and the room begins to sway slightly, my eyes fall closed to ward off the dizziness.

  “Shit,” I exhale on a sigh in the silence of the bedroom. I hope I can talk to her and somehow save face when she returns from the bathroom.

  That’s the last thing I remember.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Sarah

  What is this? Fifty Shades of Westbrook?

  Sweet baby Jesus in swaddling clothes, that freaking hurt like hell! My sensitive skin will surely have welts tomorrow, not to mention there’s a good chance my collarbone will be bruised from his bite.

  Shoving Jack away, I quickly grab his shirt and tug it on, and—discreetly grabbing my cell phone—excuse myself to the safe haven of his en suite bathroom.

  Closing myself inside, I breathe a sigh of relief and lean with my back against the door. I can’t call Maggie since she’s celebrating her special night, so my fingers fly over my phone, preparing a text message to the only other person who might be able to rescue me.

  Clint.

  Me: 911, now. NOW. Please. For the love of ALL THAT’S HOLY.

  I stare at my phone, willing it to light up. Because every woman knows the code I just pulled with Clint, my coworker. And being a Prada-loving gay man, Clint will know what’s what and see it for the definitive Get me out of this situation, please text. It’s a cry for help.

  A glaringly loud one.

  Flushing the toilet for good measure and then washing my hands, I swear I’m practically channeling my inner Jedi mind tricks to get Clint to respond to my text.

  Finally—fi-na-lly—the screen of my phone lights up and rings as I’m drying my hands.

  “Oh my gosh! Are you okay? What happened?” I exclaim loudly, not bothering to wait for Clint’s greeting.

  “You’d better take me to brunch with endless mimosas tomorrow, beotch,” he responds dryly. Then he utters in monotone, “Come and rescue me, honey.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  Rushing out of the bathroom, I practically skid across the hardwood floor of Jack’s bedroom in my haste to collect the rest of my clothes.

  Only to find him dead asleep.

  Guess I phoned a friend for nothing.

  Once I’m fully clothed, I tiptoe around so as not to rouse him in any way and take one last glance at the handsome man lying on the bed before me. An arm is flung out into the space where I had been lying only moments ago, his chest rising and falling steadily with each breath. His lips are parted slightly, and a small lock of hair has shifted over his forehead.

  I carefully pull the covers up over him and can’t resist a slight smile at how boyish he appears right now. Quite the contrast to Mr. I’m going to bite and spank you—hard—from mere minutes earlier.

  Spying his cell phone lying on the nightstand, I can’t resist the temptation to screw with him. Once I quickly tap a few keys, I return it to its place on the dark mahogany wood.

  “Sarah.” My head whips around at Jack’s low murmur. His eyes are closed. Is he awake? “I could really picture us together…” He trails off, his voice heavy with sleep. “…could be my wife.”

  At his words, my entire body freezes. He’s obviously talking in his sleep, but whoa. This isn’t what I signed up for. I don’t need him getting any ideas like that—because I’m definitely not interested in something serious.

  Quickly exiting the apartment, I hurry down to slip into the cab.

  The entire ride home, I stare blankly out the window and can’t help but wonder what might have been.

  And his sleep-whispered words continue to haunt me.

  * * *

  “It’s not that funny! It really hurt!”

  My best friend is officially dead to me. She’s currently doubled over in laughter, nearly falling off the couch after listening to me tell her what happened last night.

  “I’m…sorry.” Maggie attempts to smother her laughter and promptly fails.

  “Yeah. You’re so incredibly sorry. I can totally feel the sincerity in your words,” I mutter dryly, leaning back into the corner of the couch to wait until she gets herself under control.

  Finally, Maggie’s giggles subside, and she reaches over to the laptop resting on the coffee table and pulls it on her lap. “We’re going to have to research this.”

  “What’s to research?”

  Maggie pulls up Google and types in “biting,” “spanking,” and “fetishes.” She turns and peers at me closely. “Did he draw blood?”

  I barely resist a shudder at the thought. “No, thank God.” My fingers move to my left collarbone subconsciously. “I have a bit of a bruise, though.”

  Her eyebrows rise, and she gasps. “What if he watched those Twilight movies too many times?”

  “Wouldn’t explain the spanking thing.”

  Maggie’s face falls. “Oh. Right.”

  “Unless he’s trying to combine the whole vampire thing with…”

  “Light BDSM?” she offers.

  I cover my face with my hands with a loud groan. “I don’t even want to think about this.” Releasing another groan, I blow out a long breath. “It’s like the universe is trying to tell me something.”

  “Like you’re not cut out for sadomasochism?” Maggie offers helpfully.

  Pulling my hands away from my face, I shoot her a dirty look. “It was going so great, Maggie.” I tug one of the throw pillows to my chest, hugging it tightly. “And then bam! He put me on the express train to crazy town.” I let out a sigh. “That’s not the worst part, though.”

  “What could be worse than getting bruised from being bitten and a welt from being spanked?”

  My lips twist wryly. “Getting lady blue balls from the whole experience.”

  “Sarah.” Maggie rolls her eyes at me. “You did not get lady blue balls.”

  “I did!” I protest, standing up and pacing back and forth in the living room. “He had me so freaking close. So close, Maggie.”

  She curls her legs up beneath her on the couch, resting her head against the cushion and watching me with interest. “And it was good before…?”

  “Before he pulled me into Fifty Shades of Westbrook? Yesssss.” My breath comes out in a slow hiss. “It was so. Freaking. Good.” I pause. “And he still packed another whammy with his sleep talking.”

  Maggie gives me a look. “I think that was sweet.”

  I make a face like I’m about to be ill. “Swe
et? Not even.”

  Dropping onto the couch in a heap, I stare up at the ceiling and brace for the reaction I know is coming. “By the way, I’ve decided to take the job.”

  Maggie’s quiet for a moment. “Which job?”

  I grimace at the wary softness in her tone. “The travel nursing job.”

  “You’re leaving?”

  “I think it’s a good decision. Not only that, but it’ll also be a great experience.” I say this with a sigh because I’m going to miss my best friend something fierce. “I’ve always wanted to try out travel nursing. And who knows?” I shrug, trying to pass my words off as casual. “I might end up finding someone who’s normal in the bedroom.”

  After restructuring and cutbacks at the hospital where I’d been employed twenty minutes away in nearby Ballston Spa, I’d gotten in touch with my contact offering a travel nursing position. The job starts with a three-month stint in California, and then more scheduled positions follow in other locations along the West Coast.

  “Where’s the first position?”

  “San Diego.”

  Maggie’s features depict both surprise and dismay. “San Diego?” Her shoulders slump. “That’s so far away.”

  “I know.” God, this sucks. “I’m going to drive there, so I have to leave Tuesday. But we can Skype and everything while I’m gone. It’ll be fine.” The forced cheerfulness in my tone is obvious.

  “But…you’ll be back in time for the wedding, right?”

  The hesitation in her voice bothers me. Lightly gripping her shoulders, I offer my bravest smile. I know it’s weak at best, but I try. “Maggie. You know I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Pulling her in for a hug, I hold tight. “I’ll miss you.”

  “I’ll miss you, too,” she whispers back softly. We embrace for longer than normal because I know it’ll be a while before I see her again.

  Maybe it’s selfish, but I want to take advantage of this opportunity to bounce around and get great work experience.

  It doesn’t escape me that I’ll also be leaving behind the memory of the handsome man who ended our night in the worst way possible.