A Jade's Trick (Lilly Black's Jaded Series Book 1) (23 page)

"Welcome to San Jose," the sign says when we get off the plane.  A limousine awaits us on the tarmac, and about ten minutes later, I step out into the circular driveway of the Winchester House - the reason I've always wanted to come to San Jose.

Cain leads me through the palm trees that line the driveway to the main entrance where the visible portion of the house is deceptively reasonable, but I've seen the aerial view.  It's actually a sprawling series of buildings, hallways, and stairways to nowhere, and I can't wait to see all of its secrets when we meet our guide at the door.

"Having fun?" Cain asks.  We've been through about a third of the Winchester House, and now we're heading toward the greenhouse.

"Yes," I say, pulling him toward me by his hand and bumping into him as we walk, and when I turn my eyes back to the way ahead, I see why he picked this moment to ask.  Our guide is holding the doors to the greenhouse open, and inside is a table set for dinner with a waiter standing by and a violinist playing softly.  The setting is beautiful.

"Cain!" I gush, and in a highly uncharacteristic moment that makes Nicole's jaw drop, I throw my arms around him excitedly.

"I'm glad you like it," he says, kissing me softly atop the head, and with his hand on the small of my back, he guides me to the table and pulls my chair out for me.  With dinner already decided, Cain turn his glass over as the waiter pours white wine, and the first course is served - escargot.  They're even prepared with garlic and blue cheese like Maison Latour, and if I close my eyes, I would swear we were right there in that private, corner booth.  I realize I can even hear the piano accompanying the violin, and looking around, I find a white baby grand in a far corner.  Cain thinks of everything.

As the sun begins to set, candles are brought in on high pedestals and placed amongst the flowers, drawing my attention to the fact that most of them are not products of the greenhouse but cut white roses and calla lilies.  This is easily the most romantic night of my life.

"Thank you,"  I whisper to Cain later as we head toward the limousine.

"It's been my pleasure," he says, pulling me close.  "I love seeing you in rare moments when you let your excitement show...even with your clothes on." 

Cain gives the driver an address, and soon we arrive at our next destination - a pool hall. I wonder why we're here of all the places San Jose surely has to offer, but once inside, it's obvious.  Hundreds of miles from home in a rundown, blue collar bar on a Wednesday night, I can't count how many times I hear the name Ballantyne or just plain "B" called out.

"I spent about a month last year working for a client near here," Cain explains, and as he leads us to the bar, I hear Caleb grumble to Nicole that this sort of thing is typical of Cain.  It gives me a strange sense of comfort when it comes to my "different worlds" issue.

At the bar, Cain orders a bottle of water for himself and Asgård and tonic for me, and we laugh as the bartender pulls the gin from beneath the bar, pretending to blow dust off of it.  Drinks in hand, we find a free table, but before we can start a game, Cain is challenged.

"I didn't come here to take your money," he says, and a great deal of smack talking follows, ending in Cain agreeing to a doubles match with Caleb against two older men.  Twenties are slapped down, and Cain breaks, sinking the nine ball.  He and Caleb are stripes.

They play several games as the bets double, which seems unfair since Cain and Caleb win more often than not, but as soon as Nicole and I start our own game, they notice and announce that the current game will be their last tonight.  The bet is over $600 now, and the boisterous crowd falls silent as everyone watches Cain take his next turn.  It's an easy shot in a corner pocket, but when he sinks the eight ball instead, the whole place erupts.

"I told you!  B always cracks when the bets get high," a man shouts, slapping Cain on the back as he makes his way to me through a receiving line.

"There's no way you should have fucked up that shot," Caleb accuses.

"I know," is all Cain will say, and as he heads to the bar where he discretely orders a round of drinks for everyone, I stand frozen, completely enamored of him in this moment.  I feel it even stronger when one of his opponents' wives comes over to tell me what Cain won't say himself.  His work in San Jose last year saved the jobs of many of the men here tonight, and with nothing but high praise for him, she urges me to hang onto him.  I tell her I plan to just before Cain grabs my hand and whisks me away to the dance floor.

As we reach the center of the floor, loud funk music abruptly changes to something slow and bluesy.  Cain puts my arm on his shoulder and takes my free hand in his, pulling me tight against him as Robert Bradley sings about how there's nothing in the world he wouldn't do to for his beautiful girl.  It's from a CD Dave used to play a lot before the overhaul at Prometheus, but I never really noticed how romantic it was until now.

For four minutes, we're the only two people in the world.  As Cain moves me, his right hand on the small of my back, bending me backward at the waist and slowly swaying me around, he makes me feel beautiful and erotic.  If our dance at Envy was fucking, this dance is making love.

It's almost midnight when we leave the bar, and after Cain has completed another perfect takeoff, he gives me the tour, leading me down a hallway from the main cabin, past a spacious full bath to a bedroom.  This is probably where he does that other amazing thing in the air he mentioned, but I don't want to leave Nicole alone with Caleb for long.  Maybe she is taking the friend path like I did at first, but if he's anything like his brother, she'll be on her knees in no time.

Back home in La Mesa, Cain and I go straight to bed.  We have to be quiet because Nicole's bedroom is just a few yards away, but I only worry about her hearing us for about a second as Cain stands behind me, kissing my ear and mauling me through the fabric of my dress in the places I forbid when my clothes are off.  His touch is amazing as he finds my clit instantly, and I can feel how wet I am already, my panties gliding over it as he makes circles with his fingers, playing my body like we've been lovers all our lives.

I lean against him, weak with need as he manipulates the tiny knot of nerves whose pleasures elude my touch, and with his other hand he yanks the collar of my dress down off one side, his kiss moving lower until I feel him bite down hard on my shoulder at the base of the neck, the unexpected pain sending chills down my back as his merciless fingers churn in a laborious rhythm.  He bites me again, his left hand on my throat, his stiff cock against my ass, and it's too much.  I breathe his name, my legs quaking as I bear backward into him, and I feel his lips against my ear.

"Come for me, Evan," he whispers, and I do...
oh
,
God, I do! 
My own hand covering my mouth to contain the screams on the tip on my tongue, only muffled praise escapes me as the orgasm seizes upon me, making my legs weak, throwing me off balance.  Cain holds me up, his right hand pressed hard against my clit, forcing out all the pleasure it has to give.

Is there nothing he can't do?
I wonder as he turns me around to face him, grinning and insufferably pleased with his latest loophole.  He pulls my dress over my head, unhooks my bra, and yanks my panties down, and as his mouth closes around my nipple, biting it just right, I can't wait any longer.  Quickly unzipping his jeans, I jerk them past his hips.

"Fuck me," I demand, and Cain obeys, turning me around and leaning me forward against the mirrored dresser.  Sliding inside me, he begins to fuck me, hitting my target like only he can, and as I stare into the mirror, I see him looking down, watching his cock slowly disappear into me. I buck against him, wanting it harder and faster, and he tightens his grip on my hips as I race to a quick, greedy end.  Suppressing the urge to scream, I hold my tongue as my rapture comes out muted, my hands clutching the edge of the dresser, my lips quivering, my eyes rolling back into my head, and it isn't until the euphoria begins to subside that I realize Cain had been watching me in the mirror.  I cover my face with my hands.

"Don't watch me," I say.

"You're beautiful when you come, Evan."

"Shut up and take your pants off," I order, gently pushing him and the compliment away.

"Yes, Mistress," he says with that subtle yet stubborn complaint in his tone.

When I turn these tables on him for real, I'm going to need a title not yet marred by his scathing tongue,
I think as I push him onto his back on the bed so I can finish him on top.  I don't tease, pinning his shoulders down and riding him hard until he bursts inside me, and Cain is so beautiful when he comes.

Warm and sated, I drifted off to sleep in Cain's arms last night, and it seems like only minutes have passed when I wake to find him gathering his clothes from the floor.  Groggy, I squint to see the digital clock display on the cable box.  It's almost 6:00 am.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"I didn't mean to wake you," he says.  "I have an early meeting." 

"Do you have to go?" I complain.

"Yes," he says, sitting down on my side of the bed.  "I have meetings all day, but I'll call you later, okay?"  He's wearing a suit, the last one he had hanging in my closet, and I can smell that he's freshly showered as he leans in and kisses me atop the head.  "Go back to sleep.  I'll lock the door behind me." 

When I hear the front door close, I suddenly feel like crying.  Maybe I'm just tired, but something about how he left doesn't sit right.  I can't shake it as I lie awake, pleading for sleep to take me back, but it's no use.  By 6:30, I give up and get out of bed.