Chapter 16: DAMON - A Very Good Bad Idea

“Just so we’re clear, I still haven’t decided if I like you yet.”

“Okay.”

“And this isn’t for you.”

“It’s not?”

“No. This is for me.”

The very first rule of life is—never argue with a woman when she’s got her hand on your dick.

Jade’s elegant fingers are wrapped around my hard length, her teasing grip stroking at a torturous, leisurely pace all the way to the weeping tip before gliding back down to the base.

“You have a gorgeous cock, and the thought of putting it in my mouth, making it slippery with my spit, sucking it down and feeling it nudge into my throat—it turns me on.”

My heart slams against my rib cage and my voice comes out hoarse. “Is that so?”

“Yes. So this isn’t for you. It’s all for me—every inch.”

The second rule is—when a woman’s talking about how badly she’d like to blow you, the only play is to keep your mouth shut and be thankful. But I’ve always been a make-my-own-rules kind of guy.

So I trace her lewd, luscious mouth with my thumb, rubbing it. “As long as these pretty lips end up wrapped around my cock, I don’t give a shit who it’s for.”

Needless to say, it’s been an eventful couple of days.

Jade’s thick lashes flare, like I’ve overstepped. But then . . . she smiles. It slinks across her face like the kitten who swallowed the cream. Or is about to.

And she sinks down to her knees. My joints go boneless and my abs contract. Because, Jesus, she’s beautiful. Regal. Refined. Perfect. She might walk through the world like a princess, but on her knees, Jade Buchanan is a fucking empress.

This is how it’s been between us. Apocalyptic Adam and Eve, all alone at the edge of the world, with not a whole lot to do—but each other. I’m obsessed with her tits. I spent an hour and a half yesterday kneading and sucking on the pale perfection of Jade’s breasts until they were covered in a mosaic of hickeys and faint finger-sized bruises.

She tugs my sweats down my hips and my erection bobs free. She takes it in her hand, sliding her tongue along the underside and then all around, getting it nice and wet—and sending a jolt ricocheting through me that’s so intense, I have to white-knuckle the counter behind me. She drags the tip along the seam of her mouth, painting her lips with pre-come. It’s filthy and more fantastic than I ever imagined. But when she opens wide and slides me in deep, and the broad head of my cock wedges in the tight top of her throat—I think I’ve actually made it into heaven.

There’s no awkwardness between us. There’s been nakedness and sweat and come for days—but no awkwardness. We’re good together. We match—our thoughts, our desires, our libidos. It’s all toe to toe, word for word, move for decadent move.

Jade hums around me, bobbing her head and gliding that perfect mouth up and down in sucking strokes, tearing a groan from the very bottom of my lungs. Then she puts her hands over mine where they’re weaved through her tresses, pressing into my knuckles—telling me to take over, take control.

She likes it like that.

I hold her skull in my palms and move my hips forward and back—fucking that beautiful mouth in smooth steady thrusts. Jade moans and whines around me, tightening her lips with wet suction as lightning gathers at the base of my spine.

“Jade,” I grunt her name, because saying it makes me harder.

She opens her eyes and trains those simmering emeralds up into mine. Because that’s how I like it. I drag my hips, push forward one last time, and come in soul-wrenching waves. Jade takes everything I give, draining me dry, wringing me out—claiming a piece of me—even though she’s the one on her knees.

With my pulse still pounding, she rises to her feet. I cradle her face and curve over her, pressing the top of her ass against the ridge of the counter and kissing her, deep and domineering. I slide one splayed hand down her stomach and into her black lace panties, petting between the velvet folds where she’s smooth and hot and already sopping.

“You really did like sucking on me, didn’t you?”

Jade nods—a sexy, desperate little whimper winding through her throat as a rosy flush rises up her neck and across her cheeks.

I rub her clit with the pad of my finger, gentle and soft at first. Tiny, rhythmic strokes that make her eyes roll back and knees buckle. My arm wraps around her lower back, holding her steady. Then I slide my hand lower, circling her slick opening, loving the feel of her here—before slipping two fingers up inside.

She’s all tight, wet, and clenching around me, tossing her head back, moaning deep and loud—losing herself in the sensation of my touch. I pump my fingers harder—rubbing her tense clit with my thumb.

When she lifts up on her toes and starts riding my hand, I press my lips to her ear, my voice scraping. “How do you like me now?”

And she goes off. Her jaw hinges open and her body quivers as the orgasm wracks through her—her arms clinging to my bare shoulders like she’s caught in the gale of a hurricane and I’m her only anchor.

Eventually her breathing slows and she gets that sweet, melty look on her face. I withdraw my hand and cup the back of her neck, kissing her languidly. Almost tenderly.

Then Jade steps back on shaky legs, and lifts her head like we both didn’t just have our worlds rocked off their axis, telling me, “The jury’s still out.”

I click my tongue. “Damn. Guess I’ll have to work harder on being likeable.”

Her lip curls. “That’s the spirit. You’ve got potential. Keep working at it.”

When she turns toward the bathroom to get dressed, my eyes are glued to the scrumptious cheek of her ass peeking out from the black lace.

Then I go back to making the coffee. And I laugh for absolutely no reason at all. There’s a playful current buzzing through me. It makes my shoulders loose and the air feel breezy and buoyant.

I have no clue what page Jade and I are on—but I know it’s the same one. And for the moment, that’s good enough.

* * *

We eat together at the kitchen table, like actual people. Oddly, that was kind of awkward the first time a few days ago, but now it’s just . . . normal. Since I murdered the refrigerator, we keep a few perishables in a shared cooler for as long as the ice that Piper and Ian brought will last.

Jade likes her steaks bloody, her wine red, and her coffee light and sweet, but she’ll choke it down black when she has to. She likes granola in the morning with yogurt if available. She detests Brussels sprouts or cabbage of any kind, and cherry sorbet is her favorite dessert.

“Did you put condoms on Ian’s list?”

My mouth pauses at the rim of the coffee cup. “No.”

Jade thoughtfully takes a drink of water, holding my gaze above the glass. Then she places it back on the table and licks the moisture from her lip.

And she seems to make a decision—lifting her arm bent at the elbow, showing me the inside of her left bicep. “I have an implant. It’s good for three years.”

“Nice.”

“But, as I’m sure you know, implants don’t prevent . . . transmission. And no offense, Burke, you kind of have a slut vibe.”

I laugh. “I’m not a slut. And I don’t have anything to transmit.”

“How do you know?”

“Coincidentally, I got tested the week before the will reading. And I’m clean as a whistle—I can have Ian bring the results if you want.”

“What about your going-away party?” she asks. “Your ‘independent contractors’?”

“Had a lot on my mind—wasn’t interested. Not even a peck on the cheek. What about you?” I inquire, just to keep things level.

Jade scoffs. “I’ve never been a random hook-up kind of girl. And for the last few years my only relationship has been with my vibrator—Hand Solo.”

I lean forward, my interest inflated. “Is Captain Solo here with us now?”

She pops my pervy balloon. “No, I was concerned you’d find it and figure out a way to use it against me.”

“Oh, I’d definitely use it against you. No doubt about that.”

“I almost brought condoms, you know. I considered it for a millisecond, but . . .” She shakes her head.

“Not surprising. Deep down, I suspected you thought I was hot, even through the fog of hatred.”

“I’m not blind and you are hot. But that’s not why I considered bringing them.”

“It’s okay, Jade, you can admit it—you were hoping to bang me from day one. Don’t be ashamed.”

She pins me with the look of a bombardier whose sight is right over the target. Then she drops the payload. “My father suggested it.”

The expression on my face freezes and my blood stops cold.

I don’t think she meant to say it. But now that she has, she looks a little ill, like she wants to reel the words back in.

“Why . . . why would he suggest something like that? To his daughter? What the hell is that even about?”

“It was his grand master plan.” She waves a hand, shrugging—no big deal at all. “I’m only telling you because it’s ridiculous. He thought I could make you give up your half of the house by seducing it out of you. Make you feel bad for me or something.”

Buchanan is evil, and I hate him more today than I did six weeks ago—and I really didn’t think that was possible. But even more than that, I hate that he read me so easily.

So accurately.

“He thought if I was the damsel, you would be the hero and want to . . . save me.”

Her tone is a tinge disgusted, slightly bitter. Because she can’t imagine it. Doesn’t even think it’s a possibility . . . but I do.

I want to save Jade from her past—from the horrendous memories that try to reach out and grab her. I want to protect her from the dark and from the dreams that chase her when she dares to nod off anywhere in this house except next to me. But the worst part is . . . I want to rescue her. From the future, and whatever her father and her hideous family have waiting for her when she leaves these walls.

It gnaws at me if I let myself think about it.

But what the fuck am I supposed to do with that?

The reality is, our futures are intractably linked. My triumph means her downfall and vice versa. This is a zero-sum game.

“I don’t know,” I muse lightly. “Your pussy already has me enthralled. If I’m not careful, I might end up being the one who needs saving.”