Roped In (Strings Book 2) Page 5

  His lips brushed mine. Softly, gently. His tongue didn’t even peek out of his mouth. It was just his lips. His soft, full, sculpted lips that had always known exactly what I wanted and needed. They were sensual and teasing and perfect. I wanted so much more, but I also wanted his sweet assault to never end.

  I shifted imperceptibly, widening my knees ever so slightly, and for some reason that small movement and the huff of breath I let out when I felt his thighs rub against me again spurred him into action. He deepened the kiss, lips firm against mine, and when his tongue came out and brushed against mine I almost moaned.

  Our tongues danced, battled, pushed and pulled and drank each other in desperately. I brought my hands up around his neck and pulled myself closer so our bodies were flush. He was hot and hard against me, and I couldn’t wait to rip his shirt off and see all that rippling muscle underneath. The muscle I had always died for and could never get enough of. There’d been days at Klein, long after Jack had fucked me and fallen asleep that I would just lay next to him, running my hands all over his gorgeous body. When he was asleep, I wasn’t afraid he would read into what I was doing, but I was still free to give into the urge to make him mine.

  I wanted to see it, see if it was even better than I remembered, so as soon as Jack pulled his mouth away from mine, panting against my neck, I took that opportunity to lower my hands to the hem of his Henley and lift it over his head.

  He was even more gorgeous than I remembered.

  “You’re so hot,” I whispered, voice harsh and hardly recognizable to my own ears.

  “You are,” Jack responded roughly before reaching forward and pulling off my shirt in return.

  I was wet. Wetter than I could ever remember being. I could feel it as I shifted my hips on the counter. I wanted him inside me. I wanted to feel him, hot and thick, rubbing against my walls, giving me exactly what I needed.

  He didn’t hesitate before reaching behind me to unclasp my bra, and I gasped and arched my back when the cool air of the kitchen met my nipples, causing them to perk up. He looked at my breasts for just a few moments, getting his fill, before he leaned forward and sucked one into his mouth.

  My hands immediately came up to wrap around the back of his head, holding him to me as he sucked at me, ravaged me, claimed me for his own. I tilted my head back, moaning softly, a sound that might have been his name.

  He worked on my other nipple for a bit before pressing kisses along my chest, up my neck, until his mouth met mine again.

  He kissed me hard as I wrapped my legs tightly around him. When Jack began to slowly thrust his hips against me, I whimpered, feeling his hard cock through his jeans, feeling the evidence of how much he wanted this. Wanted me.

  “Fuck,” he murmured against my neck, moving against me.

  I couldn’t take it anymore. I slipped my hands between us and began fumbling with his belt, practically ripping it off as I made quick work of it. I was about to yank his jeans down, but he pulled back suddenly, taking my wrists in his hands and moving them so I was leaning back on my hands on the counter as he worked my jeans open. He kept his eyes on me as he slid them down my hips. I lifted to help him and his eyes darkened. He dragged my underwear down along with my jeans until I was completely naked on his countertop.

  Braced on my hands, my chest was pushed out, and I could only imagine the sight I made. On display for him, flushed, wet, and ready for anything he was willing to give me.

  “Look at you,” he rasped out, taking one step back and just letting his gaze roam slowly up my body until his eyes landed on mine. The fire behind those green eyes gutted me. It turned me on even more, and when I spread my legs so wide he could see how wet I was, he looked down for a moment before his eyes shot up to mine. I didn’t have a moment more before he yanked me off the counter. I fell against him briefly before he whirled me around and shoved me down against the counter so my front was completely flush with the cool marble.

  I was panting heavily in anticipation. I heard him fumbling with his jeans before I saw him toss his wallet on the counter next to my head. I bit my lip when I heard the sound of a foil packet ripping a moment later. I turned my head to look at him and he was staring down between our bodies.

  “Jack,” I moaned, and his eyes snapped up to mine.

  “You want this?” His voice was gruff and hoarse with need, and it made me clench in anticipation.

  “So much,” I managed. “Fuck me.”

  He grunted, and when he plunged inside me in one swift move, I almost screamed. He was even bigger than I remembered. Thick and impossibly hard, pressed against every inch of me, filling me up so perfectly that it was like he was made just for me. He held there for a moment, and when I shifted against him, grinding myself on his cock, he gripped my hips tight to stop my movement.

  “Jack, please.”

  “Don’t fucking move, Talia,” he growled. “I’m going to come if you move at all.”

  “Want you to,” I said, trying to grind against him only to have his hands tighten on me so hard that I knew I’d have bruises. “Move, Jack, I need it.”

  I couldn’t remember the last time I was this desperate for someone to fuck me. Couldn’t remember the last time I wanted it rough, wanted someone so deep inside me that I wouldn’t be able to breathe. Wanted someone to just fuck me, just take me and claim me and make me their own. But I wanted Jack to do all of that. I wanted him to make me forget everything but him. I wanted him to make me his.

  Finally, he started to move, slowly pulling in and out of me, and I swore I could feel every single inch of his flesh on every inch of mine.

  I moved my hands up, clutching the other end of the island and moving against him as much as I could despite his firm grip.

  He took it slow, like he was savoring each glide, but I was so impatient. I wanted more. I wanted him and I wanted it now.

  “Harder,” I begged. “Faster, Jack, please.”

  “Yeah?” he grunted. “You want it hard?”

  “Please!” I moaned loudly. “Please, please.”

  I felt him pull all the way out of me, leaving just the head of his cock inside me, and my walls trembled in anticipation.

  “Tell me you want it.”

  I moaned, so turned on I couldn’t think.

  “I want it,” I finally choked out.

  “What do you want?”

  My face reddened, and I was glad he couldn’t see it. I knew what he wanted me to say, and I wanted to say the words. Was almost embarrassed about how much I would mean them.

  “Say it, Talia,” he growled.

  I wanted it too desperately not to give him the words he wanted.

  “I want your cock,” I gasped.

  Jack groaned loudly right before he slammed into me. Then he was really fucking me. Pounding in and out of me, holding my hips in his strong hands, and dragging me back and forth along his length as he plunged in and out of me. I couldn’t take it, wanted more, wanted to come but never wanted this sweet torture to end.

  He leaned forward, his front pressed to my back as he continued to tunnel in and out of me. He was releasing the sexiest, dirtiest sounds, little grunts and groans each time he slide deeper and deeper inside of me. Deeper than anyone had ever been, even him.

  I closed my eyes, savoring the feel of him, moaning loudly and incoherently, and as I gripped that counter, I felt flooded with memories of him, of us. I was overwhelmed by the memories of us just like this, me bent over his bed, holding back the moans I wanted to release because his roommates were home, just on the other side of the door. And he would fuck me just like this, hard, fast, deep, but it had never been like this. Never this deep, never this desperate, and he’d never been this hard and thick.

  “Fuck, Talia, you’re going to make me come.”

  I moaned at his words, still going back and forth between the memories of us and the power of this moment right now.

  I clenched around him and he groaned deeply before one of his han
ds left my hips. As soon as I felt his thick fingers circling my clit I knew I was a goner. I pushed back against him as he fucked into me. It felt like he was everywhere—behind me, on top of me, inside me, surrounding me—and I was so overwhelmed with the feelings that I was worried about what would happen when I finally reached the apex of my pleasure.

  “Jack,” I gasped. Then I was moaning his name over and over, and I felt him grow even thicker inside me, and as soon as he let out a shout and I knew he was coming, I went over right with him. The feeling of him hitting that spot inside me while his fingers worked me was the most exquisite torment.

  It felt like the orgasm went on forever, like it would never stop, like I could die from how incredible it felt as each wave of pleasure continued to violently roll inside me.

  When I finally came down, I relaxed against the counter, trying to catch my breath, and Jack was lying on top of me, his hot breath a short staccato in my ear.

  He didn’t speak as he pulled back and slid out of me. I couldn’t move. I stayed there, blissed out on the counter as I heard him moving behind me. I saw him walk to the trashcan out of the corner of my eyes, and I assumed he was getting rid of the condom. When he came back, he cursed under his breath and smoothed his hands up and down my ass.

  “You’re even sexier than you were in college,” he said, almost reverently. I bit my lip and looked at him over my shoulder. Then he leaned forward and his lips found mine. He’d pulled his jeans back up because I could feel them rubbing against the bare skin of my ass as he kissed me deeply.

  Usually, after I had sex with someone, I didn’t want to think about touching them again for a while. My body always felt overly sensitized and strung out, but right now, as I ground my hips back against Jack I realized I could easily take him inside me again. I wanted more.

  He kept kissing me, still bent over my back while I moved my hips against him. And after several minutes, I felt him getting hard again through his jeans.

  “Do you want to eat dinner?” he whispered against my mouth, his hungry eyes meeting mine.

  With some of my senses returned, I could smell the sauce on the stove, but more than that I could smell the scent of us lingering in the air, and I knew exactly what I wanted.

  “Fuck dinner,” I huffed into his lips. “I want to eat you.”

  A moment later he was lifting me up, and I squealed when he put me in a fireman’s hold as he walked in the direction I assumed was his bedroom. He smacked my ass and I giggled, and that’s when I felt the first stirring of worry. It couldn’t be this good. This easy. We’d spent the entire day together, talking and laughing and getting to know each other again. He’d fucked me better than anyone ever had. And I wanted more. Of all of it—of his stories, of his laugh, of his body. How was I ever going to walk away? How was I going to be able to tell him that I what I wanted hadn’t changed?

  But when I landed on my back on his bed, watching him strip his jeans off before he climbed over me, all I could think was that I wanted this moment right here, and tomorrow be damned. I wanted tonight.

  Chapter 6

  Jack was asleep, curled on his side in the bed, sheets tangled around him. It had been about an hour since he’d slid out of me and pulled me against him, holding me tight and telling me to stay.

  If he hadn’t said those words, if he hadn’t whispered “stay” in my ear, maybe I would have been able to do just that. But I knew what was behind those words. I knew what Jack wanted because it was what he’d always wanted. With that word, he’d reminded me of exactly why I told myself I couldn’t do this. He reminded me of why I hadn’t seen him in six years.

  I wasn’t someone who stayed. No matter how much Jack wanted me to be, no matter how much he told me he wanted more, I knew I couldn’t give it to him. He wanted me to stay, but that just wasn’t who I was, and it was all anyone I’d known had ever done. I’d learned from the best.

  I slid out of the bed as slowly and delicately as I could, not wanting to move the bed even a smidge for fear of waking him. I knew he’d be upset that I left, knew he’d remember all the times I’d done it before, and I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t see his face when I left, the disappointment that everything was the same as it had always been.

  I shouldn’t have slept with him. I knew that now, I’d known before, but seeing him in the kitchen, sexy and confident with every move he made, when I’d seen the struggle he had not to want me, when he put that chain around my neck, I threw caution to the fucking wind. Because I still wanted him just as badly as I always had, maybe even more than I ever did. He was different than he was before and yet the same. He was still sweet, sexy Jack, but age had matured him. He’d become sure of himself in a way he hadn’t quite been before, but at the same time there was a new vulnerability in him he had never shown me.

  When he spoke, he spoke with a sureness of someone who knew what he wanted while still revealing that there was more that he craved. He was still kind—truly, genuinely kind in a way so few people were—an attentive listener while still being able to carry on any conversation. He was intelligent, smarter now that he’d been through law school and six additional years of growth, and he had a strength of body and mind that I couldn’t get enough of. I knew I’d have bruises where he’d held my hips. Maybe I’d have them around my wrists from when we’d moved things to his bed and he’d pinned my arms above my head, gliding into me deep and slow, holding my gaze the entire time. It had frightened me for a moment when he refused to look anywhere but me. It felt like he was telling me something, conveying something he couldn’t with words as he held me with both his hands and his eyes.

  You’re mine, his eyes said. You’re still mine. You always were. You always will be. Even if you try to fight it, I won’t let you go.

  I cursed under my breath as I found my clothes in the now dark apartment. The light above the stove was on, congealed food in the pots and pans. I wandered over to the kitchen island, the remnants of our earlier sex lingering in the air and strewn about the floor. My clothes were scattered everywhere on the tile. I pulled my jeans up quickly and yanked my shirt over my head, not bothering with the underwear or bra. I walked over to the front door where I’d kicked off my shoes and dropped my purse. I slipped on my shoes as I was shoving the underwear in my bag, and my hand was going for the door knob when I heard the voice that almost made me jump out of my skin.

  “Leaving so soon?” Jack asked quietly. When I turned to him, he was leaning against the doorframe that led to his bedroom, a smirk on his face that didn’t reach his eyes.

  “Yeah,” I said, voice trembling from the fright he’d given me and from seeing him, shirtless, so near. “I have band practice early tomorrow and thought I’d get out of your hair.”

  He didn’t say anything for several seconds. I thought he wasn’t going to reply, but when he did, the hurt in his voice and the disappointment on his face caused a flush of unbidden shame to creep up my neck before the anger set in.

  “Same old fucking Talia,” he murmured. He looked at me for another moment, and it looked like he was going to turn back into his room when I called out to him.

  “What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

  He scoffed when he turned back.

  “You know exactly what it means.”

  I dropped my bag on the ground and put my hands on my hips, anger and adrenaline coursing through my veins. I was anxious and furious at myself and at him, and I was itching for a fight.

  “Why don’t you enlighten me?” I practically hissed. I knew I was being shitty, knew he was right, knew what he was going to say, but I wanted to hear him say it anyway. Maybe that would make this easier on both of us. Maybe if he hated me it wouldn’t hurt when I walked away.

  Jack shook his head. “You take what you want, everyone else be damned, and when you get it, you fucking leave.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Jack took several steps out of the room and toward me, and I held my ground.

&nbs
p; “You fucking heard me,” Jack growled. “You’re selfish and cowardly. You don’t even have the guts to tell me goodbye. You were just going to slink out of here, and I bet you planned on ignoring my calls and texts tomorrow, huh?”

  I didn’t respond because that’s exactly what I’d planned to do.

  “But I guess I should just blame myself,” Jack went on. “I knew you hadn’t changed. It’s been six years and you haven’t dated anyone seriously.” The truth of his words stung, but I was too angry and upset to reply right away so he kept on. “You’re still terrified of letting someone in, of opening yourself up to hurt. And it’s my own fucking fault for sleeping with you when I knew—god, I fucking knew—things wouldn’t be different. That’s why I didn’t want to want you. I didn’t want to let you in again. Not like that.”

  “First of all,” I said, finally finding my voice. “You reached out to me. You sent me a message wanting to get together. You invited me into your apartment when you knew I hadn’t changed. You told me you wanted me. You fucked me. So don’t put this all on me, Jack. I never made any promises. I never fucking have.”

  “Of course not,” Jack interjected angrily. “Making a promise to someone implies that you give a shit.”

  It felt like the bottom had dropped out of my stomach at his words. “That’s not fair,” I said, voice hoarse, even though I knew it was. I knew I’d hurt him—was hurting him—I knew I shouldn’t have opened this door again, but I wanted him too badly not to. I knew I shouldn’t do this to him, but I couldn’t stop myself because even after all these years he was still the only man who made me even think about wanting more.

  Jack sighed and put his hands low on his hips, looking at the floor. He shook his head.

  When he didn’t say anything after a while, I said, “I’m going to go.” I bent down and picked up my bag.

  “Let me take you home,” he said quietly, not meeting my eyes.

  “No,” I said, the tears threatening to fall because even when I’d hurt him—again—he was still thinking of me. “I’ll call an Uber.” I reached up, my bag slipping to my elbow as I grabbed for the clasp on the necklace he’d given me.