Loving Jagger Read online

  “Is that the kind of life you would’ve liked?”

  I shake my head.

  “No, but that’s what people want. And it’s a good life. Most people don’t have half of that.”

  “What if I want to travel, make my own money and fuck you senseless in the most beautiful places in the world?”

  “And what if you do all that and then you change your mind and regret the day you let her go and ran after me?”

  “We will never know, will we?” he says, tipping my chin up and looking into my eyes. “You can’t make decisions for me, Violet. No matter how stupid my choices are, they are mine, and so are yours, although running away like that was something worthy of a prize.”

  He slides his thumb across my cheek.

  “I never thought I’d say this, but you need to grow up. Okay?”

  My lips curve into a slow smile.

  “Your emotions bounce worse than mine, and I’m pretty bad myself.”

  I let out a soft chuckle.

  “It’s not funny...” he says, grinning.

  He straightens.

  “I need to take a shower,” he says, and I push up to my legs and offer him a hand.

  He grabs it and leaps up.

  “Oh, fucking shit,” he bursts out, rubbing his eyes with his hand, and leaning heavy on me. “My head hurts,” he mumbles.

  “What did you do?”

  “I drank a lot. I mixed music.”

  “Have you had any food?”

  “Not that I remember.”

  We enter the bathroom.

  “Stay,” he says as I spin around ready to slip out the door.

  I stop, lean against a wall, and watch him.

  He flips the shower on, strips off his clothing and steps into the stream. The water flogs his face, breaks over his shoulders, and runs down his body. He tilts his head back and threads his fingers through his hair.

  His words come back to me.

  What if he wants freedom after all, as much as I do?

  “Strip,” he says, his husky voice kicking me out of my head.

  I look at him.

  “Your clothing... I want to fuck you.”

  His words make my sex wet.

  I kick off my shoes, peel off my dress and then my underwear. He stretches his arm and pulls me near him. I wrap my arms around his torso, relishing the feel of him, naked against me.

  Moments later, he turns off the shower and nudges me into the closest wall. His eyes drink me in, enlivened, his body awoken. He pushes his groin into me, and without any other direction, I prop my foot on the edge of the tub and open my legs.

  “Good... That’s all I fucking need,” he mutters.

  His fingers give me a quick brush between my legs before he shoves his rock-hard cock in me. He palms the back of my head, and my ass, his eyes closing briefly, his chest rising with an ample breath, and then he slams his hips against me, and I cry out.

  “That’s fucking it, baby.”

  He groans, and rams me again, and my nails sink in his back. His fist clutches my hair, his heavy eyes and raw stare making him look older, showing me a man who can easily own me.

  He stops for a moment, his lips brushing the side of my face, coming close to my ear.

  “I’m not who you think I am, Violet. Or who you expect me to be. I’ll always tell you exactly what I want. And I expect you to do the same. And if you walk with me I expect you to honor that, not act on some stupid impulse. All right?” He straightens his back and locks my eyes, a mature man looking at me. “All right, baby?”

  His hand caresses my face, his eyes softening with a smile.

  I nod. Repeatedly. Speechless.

  “Good.”

  He cups the back of my head again and grinds into me. I whimper again, and then he plunges into me with even more force. I pull my knee higher, opening my legs wider while pushing my hips toward him as he thrusts into me, again and again.

  His eyes glint dark, his lips curving into a ghostly smile as my nails draw lines on his skin. Pinning me against the wall, he fucks me rough, his body at full exertion, his muscles corded, his abs waving beneath his taut skin.

  He shows me no mercy and the harder he fucks me the higher my pleasure shoots. I start shaking, and tip him over the edge, making him come. The orgasm soars through both of us, an unbelievably intense sensation pouring over me, followed by blissful relief.

  My arms close around him, his chest still rocking with heavy breaths.

  A soft smile rolls on his lips.

  “Now you know why I fuck women and not girls like Diana.”

  “What do you want to eat?”

  “I don’t care,” he says, his eyes foggy with lingering sadness.

  “Okay,” I murmur as I review the culinary options and possible scenarios to pull him out of his funk.

  He leans back against the couch, draws his knees up, rests his elbows on them, and trains his eyes on me.

  “We can order something,” he says scooping out his phone from his pocket.

  “We could, but I want to cook for you.”

  “You feel guilty, huh?”

  He gives me a small smile, and although I don’t particularly enjoy the joke, I’m happy to see him fighting his mood.

  I give him a double take.

  He studies me, his legs slightly open, his lips curled into a lopsided smile, his jeans unbuttoned at the top, his chest bare.

  My eyes drop between his thighs, and his smile widens.

  “You have to feed me if you want more of that...” he says, grinning, and I spin away, stifling a chuckle.

  “What is it?”

  “Nothing,” I say, grinning.

  It pains me to admit, but I’m wrapped around his finger.

  “I have to change first,” I say, trying to recollect myself.

  “What’s wrong with that dress?” He tilts his head up and down and takes me in. “I like it. Wait. Aren’t you supposed to be in the office?”

  “Aren’t you?” I ask, clasping my fingers on my hips.

  “Rapt can survive without me for a day. I’m not so sure people can live without your insightful articles.”

  “Shut up, Parker,” I say, smiling as I stroll to the bedroom.

  “So who’s idea was it? The sex column...” he says, his voice trailing closer before his silhouette fills the doorway of the walk-in-closet.

  “I bet it was Jonas’ idea. There’s nothing more perverted than getting a free pass at talking sex with the employee you want to fuck, whereas under different circumstances it could be construed as sexual harassment.”

  I never thought of this, and now that he mentions it, I realize it’s not completely out of the question.

  I bring a hand to my back and pull the zipper down. His fingers trace my shoulders and peel the dress off me. As his palms brush my back and his breath rolls over my neck, my body responds to him, spreading delicious heat over my skin.

  The curtain of hair slides over one shoulder as he brushes it all to one side with one hand while unclasping my bra and tearing it off me with the other. He slips his fingers inside my panties and slowly slides them down.

  Naked, I turn to him. He takes me in, his eyes harboring a deep, smoldering fire. In one smooth motion, he lifts me up, wraps my legs around his waist, and pushes me against a stack of clothes. His mouth comes to mine, his tongue sliding between my lips, his zipper tearing open with a hiss. A deep crave for him rises in me immediately. He lifts me up, props me on his erection, and slowly slides me down.

  “Damn it, Jagger,” I murmur, clenching, slick and wet, around his hardness.

  “What’s the problem, baby?” he mutters, the corners of his lips curling into a delicious smile.

  Leaning back, I prop my elbows against a shelf as he clutches my hips, pulls back and then drives his cock back in.

  “There’s no fucking problem…” I mumble, swept away by the sensation building inside.

  Holding me against him, he leans into me and starts kissing my neck. His lips trail up and then across my jawline before we connect our tongues, and start fucking each other’s mouths.

  We’re both moaning, and kissing hungrily, finding that perfect rhythm that pushes us only up. The tension between our legs makes his cock stirring and my core dripping. His muscles bulge, iron hard.

  A crying moan pushes up my throat.

  “This is killing me...” he mutters as he feels me tight and throbbing around his girth.

  His fingers sink into my skin as he slowly starts grinding, filling me over and over again, groaning so sensually. Sweat rolls down my chest, damp hair sticking to my face.

  Face and chest flushed, he waves his body, hammering me with increasing power, pushing me to the edge.

  “Don’t you fucking stop,” I growl.

  He drives me all the way to the peak, and then we ride that high, locked into a perfect moment. The orgasm rams through us as he fills my core with his release.

  Still panting, we detangle our sweaty bodies. Our muscles sore, our arms numb. He leaves my body and cups his shaft before he steps into the bathroom.

  A moment later he emerges with a towel, wipes the dripping cum between my legs and as I prop my hand on his shoulder, and let him take care of me, a thought starts forming in my head.

  I don’t know how but I want him to be mine.

  5

  JAGGER

  I tuck my semi-hard dick in my jeans with one hand and hold the phone with the other.

  “Yeah, she’s good...” I say, walking into the kitchen rolling my eyes over Violet’s body.

  Her hair hits close to her waist, her small, pert ass peeking from under her shorts. She pushes up on her toes reaching for something in the cupboard, and the shorts go up a bit, straining between her sculpted legs. Adjusting my growing cock, I gape at the gap between her thighs and bump into a chair.

  “Fuck!” I snap.

  “You okay?” Braxton says in my ear.

  “Why are you ogling my ass, Mister?”

  She looks at me smiling, the light coming from the window rolling over her face.

  Her eyes look like the ocean.

  “Because you’re hot,” I say to her, and Braxton chuckles in my ear.

  “Okay, man. Go pummel her!”

  “Fuck off, Braxton!” I say, grinning and wincing in pain.

  He lets out another laugh.

  “I’ll call you later,” I say, and shove my phone in my pocket.

  I limp across the room and to the table.

  “You need help?” I ask.

  “No. The food is almost ready. Just sit and relax.”

  “I could get used to this...” I say, taking in the linen dressed table, the floral centerpiece, and the appetizers set on the plates.

  “Start eating.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  I don’t need another invitation. I’m famished. I scarf down a Bruschetta.

  “Mmm... This is good.”

  I grab another slice of crunchy, roasted baguette topped with olive oil, fresh tomatoes, garlic, and basil.

  “They’re as good as the ones I ate in Italy.”

  “You’ve been places,” she says, sliding plates filled with mushroom risotto on the table.

  “It smells really good,” I say, the unquenched hunger still barreling through me.

  “When was the last time you ate?”

  “I told you I don’t remember.”

  She unfolds a napkin over her lap, her eyes on me. She catches me dipping my eyes to her chest, the outline of her breasts visible through her tank top.

  “Eat, for fuck’s sake,” she says, shaking her head.

  “That was my intention back in the closet, but you ruined my plans.”

  Red to her hairline, she laces her fingers under her chin, studying me as I cock my head to the side and smile.

  “What?”

  I take a sizable bite from a Bruschetta, the bread crunching between my teeth, the juicy tomato spraying the roof of my mouth. I shove the rest in and run the napkin over the corner of my mouth dusting off the crumbles. And then it hits me.

  “No. Don’t you fucking tell me...”

  I toss the napkin on the table. Her nose wrinkles with a smile, her face burning, scarlet.

  “Are you serious?”

  She lowers her head, giving me a slow nod.

  “I think he did it on purpose,” I say.

  “Why would you say that?”

  “I don’t know... He either liked sucking dick more than eating pussy and you were only a decoy, or he purposely kept you in the dark, so you didn’t awaken and leave him, which you eventually did. It would’ve happened sooner, trust me, had you had a good taste of dick.

  “You don’t mince words, do you?”

  I take a bite of the creamy, savory dish.

  “This is good, Violet. Where’d you learned to cook?”

  “I write about it, remember?”

  “Yup. Risotto, blow jobs, that writing and research surely pay off. You cook as well as you fuck.”

  “Jagger!!”

  She frowns at me, smiling at the same time.

  “What?!”

  “Your language...”

  “They’re words, Violet. They’re as innocent as sky, blue or food. People label them as bad, but they’re just words.”

  “It’s what they mean...”

  “They mean sex... What’s wrong with that? It’s not bad just because people say it is.”

  “I was one of those people. Trust me, to them it’s really bad,” she says.

  “Well, I hope I made you change your mind.”

  “You did, and now I crave it, and I’m not sure I’m better off.”

  She lets out a soft chuckle, her eyes twinkling.

  “Actually, to be more exact, I crave you...” she says, pointing with her fork in my direction.

  Sadness brushes her smile, and pain jabs at my heart.

  “It may be as bad in the end.”

  She lowers her eyes.

  “Please don’t say that,” I say.

  I stop eating for a moment and look at her.

  “Listen... I know it’s too soon for us, and I know I have to figure out my shit. We’re both risking so much, and none of us have walked this path before, despite you being married. It may amount to nothing, or it may be the greatest thing of all. Whatever it comes down to, I don’t want to have regrets.” She finally looks up. “My dad had regrets all his life. My mom is great, but she’s also overbearing. He loved someone else before her. A woman he didn’t fight for because he thought the battle was lost since her family didn’t approve of him. He was young, and didn’t have any money, and her family wasn’t willing to take a chance on him, so they pulled her away from him, and she slipped through his fingers. I don’t want to be like him.”

  She drinks me in, her eyes soft, their light flowing straight to my heart.

  “I don’t want to have regrets either,” she murmurs.

  “Good. Then let’s figure it out as we go. You know it’s gonna get shitty before it gets better.”

  “I know.”

  “So, have you ever been to Europe?” I ask, shifting the topic, as I get another taste of the risotto.

  “No.”

  She gives me a questioning look.

  “Why?”

  “I was thinking... It could be interesting to learn about food, and different cuisines while traveling and living in those countries. It would be quite an experience,” I say, sounding like a commercial.

  “You speak from your personal experience... You’ve tasted quite a bit,” she says mockingly.

  I try to keep my face straight, and she bursts into laughter.

  “One day you’ll spill it out,” she says giving me a naughty smile.

  “I was talking about sampling food.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  She takes a sip of water and tosses the napkin on the table.

  “I would love to travel. I’ve never been far from home or overseas,” she says, serious.

  “Well, think about it. Maybe it’s something you’d like to do, in the future,” I say, collecting the plates and depositing them in the sink. “I have to go, now,” I say, turning to her.

  She pulls out of her chair, and strides to me, her eyes filled with questions. I slide my hands to her face and kiss her cheek.

  “Thank you for the food. And everything else...”

  “You’re welcome,” she murmurs, her eyes darkening.

  “What is it, Violet?”

  She looks at me as if I’m about to be deployed, and my heart flips with joy.

  “Will I see you tonight?” she asks tentatively, and my lips curve into a slow smile.

  “Yes.”

  “Can you stay?” she murmurs.

  “Mm-hmm,” I say and wrap her in a hug that leaves her breathless. “You want me to buy anything for tonight?”

  Her face brightens with a smile.

  “Wine, if you don’t mind,” she says softly as I kiss her cheek again.

  “I have to go now, before I take you back to bed,” I say, grinning, and slip out the door.

  She waves me goodbye, and I jog down the stairs, across the driveway and my lawn. I can’t fucking believe that this is the same day in which I almost passed out from drinking, thinking I’d never be able to bring her back.

  VIOLET

  The place never looked lovelier. I set lit candles on the patio, on the table, and in the bedroom. The food is ready. The cake is in the fridge. As strange as it sounds, cooking and baking help me relax and unwind. Perhaps, because to me, it was never a chore.

  A couple of cars pulled in front of his house this afternoon. The house and pool cleaning services. An hour ago, he climbed into his car and drove away. I slip into a different dress and walk on the terrace. The phone beeps with a message.

  Lorraine: Are you home? I can stop by, now.

  Seriously? This is the third message from my sister. I’ve already told her she can’t come today. I move my fingers over the screen, typing.

  Me: I’m busy this week. I’ll call you.

  The sound of a car drifts through the air, beams of light sweeping my driveway. I hear a door slam, and my heart fills with joy.