The Mighty Storm

Chapter Thirteen




We finish up our drinks and leave the club, heading straight into the waiting cars.
I managed to untangle my hand from Jake’s on the way out of the club, so I make a quick dash for Ben’s waiting car, which Denny and Smith are just climbing into. Denny looks a little surprised to see me in their car, but he says nothing.
I could feel Jake’s eyes on me as I climbed into their car, leaving him with Tom and his girl for the night, but I don’t care. I just need to put some distance between us right now.
If I can just get to the hotel first and back to my room alone, then tonight will be without incident.
If not … then I really don’t know what will happen.
But even as I think it, I don’t really believe it. I know exactly what will happen.
If Jake wants me tonight, then me travelling back in a separate car will not make the least bit of difference. Because I want him too, and I don’t think I can find the will to say no.
When we reach the hotel, Ben pulls up first and I clamber out of the car. My feet are still bare and my shoes are in my hand along with my handbag.
I’m vaguely aware of the other car pulling up, but I’m too distracted by how cold this floor is outside the hotel.
“Jesus Christ! This floor is freakin’ freezing!” I cry out, hopping from one foot to the other on the tiled floor. The night air isn’t cold but it’s like there is air con blasting out across the tiles, deep freezing them.
Smith chuckles at me, as I start to tread on my tiptoes carefully across the frozen tiles. “You okay there girlie? You need a hand?” He holds his hand out for me take, but I don’t get a chance to respond, because the next thing I know Jake is scooping me up in his arms.
“Arggh! Put me down you idiot!”
Jake says nothing, and just strides through the door and into the hotel lobby with purpose, and me in his arms.
Everyone is staring at us and, Smith, Denny, Tom and his girl – whose name I still haven’t gotten, are all finding this highly amusing.
“You can put me down now,” I say, a little clearer and a little firmer, as we reach the carpeted floor in the hotel outside the lifts.
He stares straight into my eyes. “I know but I’m not going to. I start a job, I finish it.”
My heart takes a clear blast in my chest, and I gulp down.
The doors ping open and Jake strides into the lift with me still in his arms.
Not even waiting for the others he presses the button for our floor.
“We look silly like this,” I say quietly.
“And since when have you cared about how we look?”
What can I say to that?
And truth be told, I don’t want him to put me down, I like the feel of being in his arms.
Jake makes me feel like a girl. Like a woman. It’s not something Will’s ever truly managed to do. Not that Will’s not manly, of course he is, but Jake is in a whole other league. He’s alpha to the extreme.
And yes, I’m independent and strong, but sometimes … just sometimes, it’s nice to be taken care of. It’s nice to be made to feel like a lady.
The lift quickly reaches our floor; the top floor of course, and Jake exits, taking a left, heading toward my suite.
My suite is next to his, so I’m praying he just drops me at my door, and goes to his. Actually thinking on it, my suite’s always next to Jake’s whichever hotel we stay in. Hmm…
Okay, so the rational side of me is praying that Jake will just leave me outside my room – what small part of it there is left. But I know he won’t.
“Key,” he says stopping outside my door.
I rummage in my handbag, and pull my key card out. Reaching down, I put it into the slot and push the handle down, as Jake shoves my door open with his leg.
He carries me through the darkened living room of my suite, letting the door swing shut behind us. I drop my shoes to the floor and toss my handbag onto the sofa as he passes by it.
“F*ck!” he curses, walking into the coffee table.
“You okay,” I stifle a giggle.
“No,” he grumbles. “It hurts like a mother f*cker.”
“I’ll rub it better for you.”
“Is that a promise?” His tone is serious. He’s staring down at me, his eyes impenetrable in the darkness of my suite.
Looking away, I say nothing.
We reach the bedroom and Jake gently deposits me down on the bed.
“Why thank you kind, sir,” I say putting on a really bad Southern accent like Smith’s, except his is actually cool. “Your work here is done.”
“Not yet, it’s not.” He pulls his boots off and climbs onto the bed, lying down beside me.
“Are you staying?” I ask, nervous.
“Of course I am. I’m not leaving my girl drunk and alone. You might be sick and choke on your own vomit.”
His girl? And also, worst excuse ever for climbing into my bed, Jake, seriously.
But then I’m not exactly fighting him out of here either.
“I’m not drunk,” I giggle. “And just trust me, I’ve taken care of myself in worse states than this.”
“Yeah? Well you shouldn’t have had to.”
What’s that supposed to mean? Was that a dig at Will?
He turns on his side and faces me in the darkness. “Do you want me to go?” he murmurs, and his voice suddenly sounds all deep and intense.
Shivers envelop me. My heart-rate increases, and my breathing hitches.
“No, it’s fine, stay. But I need to pee,” I say, voice pitchy, as I climb off the bed.
I cross the bedroom on seriously wobbly legs, which have nothing to do with the alcohol in my system, and everything to do with Jake in my bed over there, and grab my pyjamas; a vest and short set, and stumble into the bathroom, closing the door behind me.
I pee, brush my teeth, take my make-up off and climb in the shower.
After I finish my shower, I put my pyjamas on, towel dry my newly clean hair, and tie it damp into a messy knot.
I’m hoping I’ve been gone long enough so that Jake has fallen asleep because I’ve got a feeling if he hasn’t, I’m soon going to be making the mistake, I really want to make with him tonight.
I turn the light off before opening the bathroom door, then I quietly let myself back into the bedroom and pad my way across the carpeted floor.
As I’m nearing the bed, Jake utters, “Well that was the longest pee in history. What the f*ck were you doing in there?”
So he is still awake. Crap.
“I took a shower, just like you should.”
“You saying I smell?” he chuckles.
I pull the duvet back and climb into bed.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying, but if you’re too lazy to take a shower, can you at least take your stinky ass clothes off, and get your own blanket out of the wardrobe.”
Laying on my back, I tuck the duvet safely around me.
Like that will stop Jake getting near me if he wants to. The man could undress a woman with one look alone.
“Yes ma’am.”
He clambers up off the bed and I watch in the dark as he pulls his T-shirt off over his head and removes his jeans, leaving him in just his boxer shorts. His sexy, tight black boxer shorts.
“F*ck, I do stink,” he says sniffing his T-shirt, then his armpit. He tosses his shirt to the floor next to his jeans. “I’ll take a quick shower.”
He disappears off into the bathroom, leaving the door ajar and the light flooding into the bedroom.
I lay here, my heart beating up a storm in my chest. My whole body on fire, as I listen to the running water, desperate to go climb back in that shower with Jake, and do things with him I shouldn’t want to do.
I hear the water go off, then he re-emerges a few minutes later, wearing only a towel around his waist, his hair all damp and mussed up.
I’m so done for.
He leaves the bathroom door ajar again, a splay of light in the room illuminating his nearly naked form, his tattoos looking intricate in the low-light. He looks beautiful, and I wonder if he’s done it on purpose leaving the light on him, giving me a full view.
Maybe he left the door open while he was getting a shower on purpose too.
Maybe it was an invitation.
He saunters over and drops back onto the bed, wearing only the towel.
This is not good. Well, it is good, great in fact … but not good for so many reasons.
He rolls onto his side facing me. “Do you remember when we used to sleep together like this when we were kids?”
“I do.” I smile at the memory.
In the early days – the bad days when Jake’s dad was still around, he started staying over at my house regularly to get away from him, and even after his dad was gone, Jake still carried on staying over; by that point it had just became our thing.
“My dad put a stop to that when we were about eleven though, if I remember rightly,” I add.
“He always was a smart guy. I wouldn’t have left me alone in bed with you if you were my daughter either.”
“Even when you were eleven?” I laugh.
“Even when I was eleven.” His voice is suddenly thick with inclination.
I feel a shiver deep inside my stomach, which quickly heads downwards, settling in-between my legs.
I turn onto my side so we’re facing each other. “How old were you when you lost your virginity?”
I know that’s a really intrusive question, but I’m little drunk and I don’t care, because I want to know if he ever slept with anyone back home before he left for America. I always thought I knew everything about Jake back then, but after he left and he cut me off, I started to think maybe not, because the Jake I thought I knew would never have left me like that.
He stares at me for a long moment. I wish I knew what was going through his mind.
“Sixteen,” he finally answers.
Even though I got the answer I wanted, I still feel a sharp stab of jealously.
“Who was she?”
“No one … someone who should have been you.”
Whoa!
He reaches his hand up and runs his fingertips along my jaw. My skin hums under his touch.
“I had such a crush on you when we were kids,” he murmurs.
He did? Holy f*ck.
“You’re a bit late telling me now,” I smile weakly.
I’m nervous. So very nervous.
“Am I?”
I knew this moment would happen when I danced with him at the club. The moment he climbed into my bed.
Maybe even subconsciously, I knew it would happen the very first moment I saw him standing there in that hotel suite for the interview.
I’m trying to remain calm but my insides are going nuts. My heart is pounding in my chest.
“No,” I whisper. “You’re not too late.”
He traces his thumb over my lower lip. I gasp at the feeling.
“I’m calling in one of my birthday presents, Tru,” he says softly. His eyes look opaque, heavy with desire.
“What do you want?” My voice is quiet, trembling.
Propping himself up on his elbow, I tilt my head back as he looks down at me.
He pulls my hair free from its knot, running his fingers through it.
“You.” He moves his face close to mine, staying a breath away, waiting for his invitation.
“Happy birthday,” I whisper.
He pulls in a breath, then very slowly, not taking his eyes from mine, leans in and kisses me.
My body and mind explode with sensation and feeling. I’ve never felt anything like it before.
I’m lost to him.
All these years of wanting him and wondering, and he is so much more than I could ever have imagined.
My fingers snake into his damp hair, holding him to me.
“Oh God, Tru,” he groans in my mouth. “I’ve wanted you for so long.” There’s such a ragged need in his voice, it makes me tremble all the way down to my sex.
“Me too,” I breathe.
With a moan, he continues his gentle assault of my mouth with his tongue.
He tastes and feels even better than I ever dreamed he would. It’s like waiting years and years for the present you have always wanted, longed for, then unwrapping it and finding it’s so much more than you ever imagined it could be.
Will is far, far from my mind, and I couldn’t stop this even if I wanted too. And I don’t want to.
We’re tangled up in each other, kissing, deep and passionate, and for this moment, in this darkness, there is only me and him in the whole entire world.
Jake pushes the duvet off me, rolls me onto my back, laying on top of me, resting up on one arm so not to crush me.
I run my hands up his tattooed arms and over onto his bare chest, tracing his skin with my fingers.
He breaks from our kiss and stares down at me for a long moment. Then he places his hand on my chest, over my heart, and very slowly, moves it down, his fingers tracing over my breasts.
My heart is thumping.
His fingertips skim my stomach, moving around the hem of my vest.
Nervous, but wanting him so badly, I reach down and lift my vest up, inclining slightly, I pull it off over my head, tossing it to the floor, I lay back down. I’m not wearing a bra, and I’m obviously feeling really brave thanks to the alcohol in my system.
Jake’s eyes roam me, devouring me.
“You are so beautiful,” he says in a low voice.
Beautiful? He thinks I’m beautiful.
He leans down and kisses me again, hard and deep, almost like his life depends on it. He puts his hand on my breast, gently tracing his thumb around my nipple. It instantly hardens under his expert touch.
He definitely knows how to touch a woman. But then he’s had a lot of practice.
I shove the thought aside
Jake gently pushes my leg to the side, I part them further allowing him closer.
I can feel his erection digging in my thigh. I’m so turned on my whole body is trembling.
I’m nervous. I’ve never been this nervous with a guy before, not that I’ve been with many, well three to be exact.
But Jake’s different. He’s always been different.
And he’s slept with so many women, what if I don’t measure up? What if I’m a disappointment for him?
I’m also trying not to think about the fact that even though I promised myself earlier I wouldn’t become another number in Jake’s very long list, I’m well on my way to letting that happen, with no care, or inclination to stop.
His hand moves from my breast, down my body. Lifting up, he kneels between my legs, and it’s at that point I see he’s lost his towel.
Holy f*ck, he is huge. And I mean huge.
I gulp down, worrying how the hell he’s going to actually fit inside me.
Jake sees my staring and grins.
I bite my lip to stop from passing comment, knowing I’ll probably come out with some lame shit and kill the moment.
His fingers hook into the top of my pyjama shorts and he starts to pull them down. I lift my bum, allowing them free, then put my leg to the side, so he can remove them fully.
I can’t take my eyes off him. I’m entranced, and I’m his completely.
As I’m moving my leg back around him, he grabs hold of it and kisses my leg, ever so lightly running his tongue over my skin, upwards, he travels higher and higher, teasing my skin with his tongue and light kisses until he reaches the apex of my thigh.
I feel heady with desire. All I want is him, now.
Lifting his head, he stares up at me. My mouth goes dry from that one look alone. I moisten my lips with my tongue.
His eyes flicker and flame. Without taking his eyes from mine, he slides his fingers between my panties and skin, then very gently he pushes his finger inside me. I almost come on the spot.
Rubbing his thumb over my sex, he starts to kiss a path up my stomach, to my neck, my jaw, my mouth, all the while, his fingers working their magic on me.
“Ahh,” I moan, closing my eyes.
“Is that good?” he asks rough.
“So good,” I breathe.
Needing to feel him, I reach my hand down and wrap my fingers around his hardness. Taking a firm hold, I start to move my hand, up and down.
He makes a low guttural sound in his throat, then pulls his finger out of me so quickly that I gasp.
Then he’s ripping my panties off. And when I say ripping, I mean he actually tears them off, shredding them. No one has ever done that to me before, and it’s insanely hot.
Leaving me wanting, he reaches down to the floor, picking his jeans up. I hear rustling and, then he’s returning with a condom in his hand and a question in his eyes.
He’s asking for my permission. He wants me to say yes.
I want to say yes. More than I’ve ever wanted anything before.
With trembling fingers, I take the condom from his hand and tear the foil open with my teeth.
His eyes are wide and flaming. His breath’s heavy.
He kneels before me.
I reach over, and with shaky fingers, put the condom on him. I can feel his body trembling under my hands.
It does extraordinary things to me. I’m literally panting with desire.
He moves between my legs, resting up on his arms, hovering over me, he starts to kiss me hard on the mouth again.
I grab hold of his backside pulling him closer to me. I just want him inside me. I want him so much. I’m aching to feel him. Years and years of wanting him, coursing through me.
He pauses, breathing heavily and lifts himself up on his arms, away from me, parting our bodies. “You’ve been drinking, Tru. Maybe we shouldn’t do this now, maybe we should wait.”
What? Is he joking?
I look up at him. No, he isn’t.
He waits until we’re this close to pause. To think.
I don’t want to wait. I don’t want to think. And I’m the one who really should be thinking right now out of the two of us.
My body is screaming for him. I need him to relive the ache I have for him. The one that has been trapped in me for well over a decade.
I lift my hips, meeting back with him, pressing against him. “I’ve waited long enough,” I breathe.
Whatever control he was trying to maintain instantly vanishes.
Then he’s back on me, pressing me into the bed, fisting my hair, kissing me deeply, holding me in place.
I kiss him back equally as passionate, my hands on his back, gripping him to me.
I want him so badly, but now I’m also feeling a little nervous about his size.
Jake must sense this, because he whispers, “Don’t worry, I’ll take it slow.”
He slides his hand under my lower back, lifting me up, he very gently, and very slowly eases himself into me.
I gasp, all but convulsing on the spot. He is filling me and more.
“Are you okay?” he asks, voice soft, lifting his head to look at me.
“I’m better than okay.” I reach up and pull his mouth back down to mine.
He moves his hand out from under me, but I leave my hips lifted, meeting him, as he slowly pulls out and then rocks back into me, going in a little further, a little deeper.
I moan in line with the feeling.
“Jesus, Tru,” he groans, gently biting down on my lip. “You feel amazing.”
I try not to think of how many women he’s said the very same thing too.
Then as if reading my mind, he stops moving inside me.
Holding my face with his hand, fingers buried deep in my hair, he stares down at me in the darkness.
“It’s always been you, Tru. Always.”
And suddenly it doesn’t just feel like we’re having sex anymore. It feels intense, meaningful.
It feels like he’s making love to me.
I know it’s stupid, because Jake doesn’t do love.
But for this moment, I want to believe it. I want to believe his words. I want to believe that it’s always been me.
Because if I’m throwing everything I have away with Will for this moment, then I need to believe it’s worth it.
Jake takes hold of my hand, entwining our fingers, he rests them beside my head on the pillow, his other cupping my face, he kisses me, his pace picking up, moving further inside me, and now I’m used to his size, I let him, needing this and more.
“F*ck,” he groans. “This is ... Tru … you feel … fuccckk.”
I move my mouth from his, kissing his jaw, nipping his skin with my teeth. Knowing that I’m doing this to him, making him feel this way, makes me feel hot, sexy and uninhibited.
So totally unlike me.
And I surprise myself, when I hear the words escaping my husky sounding mouth, “Sit up, Jake.”
A brief pause while he meets my eyes.
Understanding what I want, Jake puts his arm under my back, lifting me with him, staying inside me, he sits back onto his heels with me straddling him.
With my hair damp and flowing down my back, I place my hands on his shoulders. Very slowly, I start to move up and down on his length. In this position I can have as much or as little of Jake as I want, and I want all of him.
His hands are on my hips, moving with me. Then they’re on my breasts, then upwards tangling into my hair and he’s pulling my face to his, kissing me again.
It’s like he doesn’t know which part of me he wants to touch the most.
And I like that he’s this out of control over me.
I start to move faster and faster, and before I know it I feel the build inside me, so soon and so intense, I couldn’t hold off even if I wanted to.
“Oh, Jake,” I groan as I come forcefully, like I’ve never come before, exploding all around him.
While I’m coming, Jake drives me back into the bed, and starts to f*ck me hard, then he’s tensing, rigid, calling out my name.
We lay, panting breathless for minutes after, both coming down from our high.
Jake moves off me, lying beside me, he takes his condom off, tying a knot in the end, he drops it to the floor and pulls me into his arms.
“That was amazing,” he murmurs, kissing my hair. “I wish we’d done this year’s ago.”
I can’t find the words to speak.
Because he’s right, we should have done this year’s ago, before he left. Pre-Will.
Guilt washes over me like a tidal wave, taking everything with it.
But then if we had, had sex all those years ago, he would have ruined me, because I would have never recovered from it. I would have never recovered from him.
Because I know unequivocally I’ll never recover from this, from what we’ve just done.