Jacked Up (Bowen Boys #4)(31)

“You saw me in the shower,” she all but whispered.

“You need to learn to close the doors, pet. And come in silence.”

She was trembling. Creaming his hand. “And yet you didn’t…”

“Barge in?” he finished her sentence. “No. I wasn’t invited to the party.”

Elle cleared her throat. “And now you are?”

“Now you’re awake and pressing against me, panting, not telling me to stop, so yeah… Now I’m invited to the party.”

Her voice was unsure for the first time. “Jack, this might not be the greatest idea.”

He slid one finger inside her, her inner flesh clamping around him. Sweet Jesus. So f*cking tight.

“Jack—”

He wrapped his other arm around her, supporting her and keeping her trapped. “You haven’t been f*cked that much, have you?” Elle was such a tease. So brazen, so in-your-face, but it was a big, false facade.

She licked her dry lips. “Why do you say that?”

“You’re f*cking tight, pet. You can’t be giving it up too often.”

At his words, he felt her * contract around him. Her spine straightened, her whole stance radiating offense.

“You’re wrong. I f*ck everything that moves, the bigger and the rougher the better, and once a year, for Christmas, I get a vaginal reconstruction and start all over again.”

He chuckled softly. Fuck but she was funny.

“And let me tell you,” she continued, her voice choppy, her body slowly yielding to his invasion. “If you’re one of those shitheads who only wants to break into untried, tight holes to then move to the next one once it has been ‘stretched,’ you should know that one, I’m not a virgin, and two, the tightest holes in this earth are in men’s asses. Maybe you should move into f*cking those.”

“Not interested in men or virgins. Too high-maintenance and easily attached.”

“Men or virgins?” She was trying to resist the pleasure. Trying not to give in. It was in the slight trembling of her voice. In the fluttering of her *.

“What I meant is you’re a cheat. Not at all the experienced minx you pretend to be.”

“No, I haven’t been f*cked that much, as you so romantically put it. My choice.”

He slid a second finger inside her, making it only to the first knuckle, and felt as the breath that she was taking caught in her throat, her core tensing further around him. “I know, pet,” he whispered in her ear, pressing his palm against her clit. “Any man with half a working brain would sell his soul for a taste of this *.”

He knew because he was ready to part with his soul, his brain, and half his vital organs for a chance to feel her coming around his fingers.

“Jack…” Her body tightened. Her core too. She was so close.

“Like this. Give it to me.” He penetrated her to the second knuckle. “Come for me.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder, arching her back and rubbing herself against his hand, climaxing long and sweet, her needy whimpers reverberating through his body, his cock jerking like a motherf*cker.

When she started coming down, he spread her legs further with his thigh. He wanted her so badly he couldn’t even remember his own name, let alone why this was a shitty idea.

“You’re so small. This is going to be a tight fit, but you can take me.” He yanked her pants down and unbuttoned his jeans. His cock sprang out, at the ready, the juices dripping from her sweet * f*cking hot as he nudged the crown against her folds. “Brace yourself on the mantel.”

That seemed to snap her out of it, and she turned around, defiantly, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

“I don’t think so. If you want to f*ck me, you’ll have to do it looking me in the face. Or can’t you?”

He took a step back. No, he couldn’t. He couldn’t look at her while his cock was inside her. Heck, he couldn’t even kiss her. He would lose himself in her. In her sweetness. In her fire. In what she did to him. And he would never find his way out. Not in one piece anyway. And he was too f*cking old and jaded to be shipwrecked.

“You’re scared of me,” she whispered, realization and hurt flashing through her eyes.

“Not scared of you,” he said, tucking his painfully hard cock in and zipping up.

Scared of her? Please, he was f*cking terrified, thank you very much.

“Then what? You can’t perform without all your…hardware to keep me under control? You don’t want me? Because your dick says otherwise.”

“My dick is not in charge here,” he spat out, and without looking back, he walked away.





Chapter Eight


“Stop touching my radio,” Jack ordered, his hands gripping the wheel, his eyes never veering from the road. “Stay still for a f*cking second, woman; we’re almost there.”

“That would not have happened if we’d taken René,” she said, continuing to flip the stations until she finally found one playing Grease songs. “My car is tuned already.”

Jack grumbled something back, but Elle didn’t catch it. And it was just as well, because he hadn’t said anything worth listening to the whole day.

From the corner of her eye, she studied him. For some reason, Jack was looking mighty pissed, which didn’t make a lick of sense to her. After all, she’d been the one left standing with her pants around her ankles, still trembling from her orgasm, watching dumbfounded as the * zipped up and walked away, his face carved in stone, as if two seconds before that he hadn’t had his fingers inside her and his hard dick tucked against her behind. Not to mention he’d been the instigator of the whole situation. Yes, she’d straddled him on the sofa, but she’d unstraddled him and told him she wasn’t interested. He’d been the one cornering her.