It’s sensory overload. My eyes screw shut, white spots dot my eyelids, and I cry out—almost a scream—as I come so hard I fear I’ll break apart.
I barely catch a breath when my hips are seized in a vicelike grip and lifted. His cock slides inside me. “Mac,” he breathes, his voice tight like he’s barely holding on.
He draws out and my ass cheeks slam against his hips when he pulls me toward him at the same time he rams his cock in me. The force and the intensity steal my breath.
Jake doesn’t stop. His body heaves and his breath punches the air with every thrust. I’m gasping when he comes, my name on his lips and his cock pushing so hard inside me I collapse against the bed. He lands on top of me with a groan, his chest hot and slick with sweat.
Three weeks pass after the Melbourne incident and nothing has been resolved with Quinn’s situation. Travis keeps muttering things like, “It’s in the hands of the proper authorities,” and “Stay out of it, sweetheart.” The exclusion has my frustration levels at an all-time high. At least they arrange round-the-clock protection for Quinn, so wherever she goes she has either Casey or Travis attached to her side like Velcro.
Regardless, life has to go on and Evie’s birthday arrives. My miraculous assistant has managed to pull off an amazing birthday party. We’re at the Florence Bar with the private function room decorated in the theme of vintage glamour. Both Travis and Casey haven’t left Quinn for even a second, so we choose to forget the dark cloud hanging over us for the night. Drinks flow freely, laughter rings out, and my brother Jared takes to the stage, stealing the microphone to give Evie a birthday speech.
It turns out to be more than a speech. It’s a marriage proposal. He’s holding Evie’s hand, his eyes radiating love and hope. My vision blurs. I hate that I’m happy for him. I want to hold on to my anger but they make it so hard.
“… and it was then that I knew …”
I tune out Jared’s words as my eyes seek Jake across the room. He’s standing near the curved stage opposite me, his body encased in a tuxedo. You can see the hint of a tattoo peeking above the collar of his stiff, white shirt. I know the ink intimately. It reads Jamieson in beautiful cursive and underneath in small print says, “Family is more than blood.” It encapsulates everything we stand for. Whether right or wrong, we stand for each other.
My gaze lifts from the tattoo to his face. Jake is watching me so intensely my lungs constrict. My fingers tighten around the champagne glass in my left hand when he nods toward the exit. I don’t even need a moment to think about it. I hold up my right hand, mouthing, “Five minutes.”
His lips curve, a mixture of male satisfaction and heated anticipation.
“Be still my beating heart,” my mother mutters from beside me as I down the last mouthful of my champagne. I give her a quick glance. Her eyes have shifted from Jared and Evie. They’re now focused on Jake and the way he’s looking at me, as if I’m ice cream on a blistery hot day.
If I was the type to melt in a dreamy puddle, I’d be covering the entire dance floor. Instead, I clear my throat and offer an “excuse me” to my mother before heading for the coatroom. The champagne has made me lightheaded.
Jake stands waiting for me just outside the exit. He’s holding a white glossy box in his hand. After a quick glance behind me, we begin the walk to the parking lot. I nod at the package. “What’s that?”
He lifts the lid. It’s an enormous slice of birthday cake. The soft, fluffy sponge is layered with thick white cream. Rivers of salted caramel ooze from the sides. “That is dessert.”
I arch a brow as Jake unlocks his car—a piece of junk dodge-something-or-other that he’s slowly restoring with Casey. “I thought I was dessert.”
He opens the passenger door. His eyes travel over me as I slide inside. My hair had been set in rollers and then pinned to create glossy 1920’s waves. My body is encased in a strapless, floor-length gold gown that glitters with every step I take, and my bared shoulders sparkle with shimmery, gold dust. I’m basically a walking Oscar award.
He shuts the car door behind me and climbs in the driver’s side, placing the cake box on my lap. “Princess, you are dessert. Ever since I saw that cake, all I’ve wanted to do is lick cream and caramel from those golden tits of yours.”
Heat floods my body and a powerful sense of urgency hits like a tsunami. “Plant your foot, Romero,” I bark. “Otherwise, I’m going to start without you.”
Jake floors it. We squeal out of the parking lot as if the hounds of Hell are chasing us, the back end of the car fishtailing wildly.
His mouth fuses to mine the second we step inside the empty duplex. The cake box I’m holding crumples between us. Jake puts his hands on my hips and walks backward, pulling me toward the kitchen as he kisses me.
It’s not until I’m lifted and set on the counter that he breaks his lips from mine. I glance down and find the cake has oozed from the crumpled box and now decorates my dress. I squawk a loud curse that has Jake laughing.
“Fuck you,” I mutter and lift the broken lid. I scoop out a fistful of cake, and before he gets a chance to escape, I smush it in his face.
Jake gasps, his mouth dropping open. Bits of cake and cream fall from his face and splatter the floor. I erupt with laughter. His eyes flatten with serious intent and my merriment dies clean away.
“Oh no, Princess,” Jake growls. “Fuck you.”
He grabs the edges of my strapless dress and yanks down, baring me to the waist. He loads his finger with cream and covers my nipples with it. It clings in thick, cold clumps as he tosses the ruined cake box to the side.
He’s not done. Jake grabs the hem of my dress and tugs it upward, leaving it to bunch around my hips. My lacy red panties are grabbed too. Jake wrenches them down my legs and shoves them inside the pocket of his pants.
Then he spreads my legs and steps back to stare. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “That is the sexiest goddamn thing I have ever seen.”
“Jake,” I breathe.
His steps back between my open legs. My breath catches as love wells inside me, the emotion so strong I feel it will literally break me apart.
Then Jake ducks his head and takes a nipple deep in his mouth. He sucks fiercely, forcing a painful jolt of pleasure to spike through me. My hands grasp his head as my own tips back. A deep moan leaves my throat.
“Everyone’s eyes were on you tonight.” Jake’s voice is rough as his mouth shifts to my other nipple. “But they don’t get to see this.” His hand gropes the abandoned breast, his fingers curling and digging in with a strong grip. “No one gets to see you the way I do.”
Jake speaks the truth. There’s no one who sees me the way he does. There’s no one who touches me the way he does. There’s no one who exists for me the way he does.