A Jade's Trick (Lilly Black's Jaded Series Book 1) (9 page)

"Let's get out of here," I say as we leave the dance floor.

"You read my mind," Cain says.  Lucy is waiting for us right outside, and I have to admit I kind of enjoy the stares from the people in front of the club as Cain opens the limo door for me.

"Where to?" Lucy asks, and we decide to get take-out and go to my house since neither of us want to be in public anymore tonight.

"Why doesn't your chauffeur open your doors for you?" I ask as we drive away.

"Because I won't let her.  She won't even call me by my first name, which pisses me off because she's not a fucking servant."  Raising his voice at the end for Lucy to hear him, Cain laughs as she rolls up the privacy glass.  I laugh, too, but I had a point I was trying to make.

"Oh," I say, trying to sound like I'm joking.  "I kind of thought you might be trying to keep her away from me."

"That's enough, Evan.  Insecurity doesn't suit you," he says, plainly.

"I was just joking," I argue, but he has already seen right through me.

"Many a truth is said in jest, little girl," he says.  "And I can't reconcile these insecurities with watching every man in sight close in around you on the dance floor.  When I came to rescue you it took everything I had not to make a complete ass of myself by throwing punches."

"There were only two men, and one of them was the guy you said could have me!" I snap.

"Oh, Jesus, Evan!  He asked to dance with you, not fuck you on the bar!" he balks, making me laugh.

"He was actually a gentleman," I admit.

"You think I don't know that?  I was watching you the whole time.  It was all the guys lined up behind you that made me crazy, but I guess it's something I'm just going to have to get used to if I'm going to take you out in public."

"Oh, whatever!  A couple of horny assholes on a dance floor doesn't constitute a pattern, but everywhere I go with you, I have to deal with women looking at you like a fucking piece of meat.  You think that doesn't make a girl a little insecure?"

"I don't really see your point,
friend.
"  I see what he's doing.  He has the right to be jealous, but I don't have that right until I submit.

"Fuck you, Cain!" I roll my eyes.

"Fuck you, Evan," he says with a laugh, and I laugh, too.  I could be angry, but it's hard to maintain when I'm high on the fact that he just admitted that I make him jealous of random guys at a nightclub.

Lucy pulls the car to the curb at an all night Mexican stand in a not-so-good neighborhood in Chula Vista.  When he gets out, she locks me in with her keyless remote, and as she leans sideways against my door like she's protecting me, I notice a gun in a holster beneath her unbuttoned jacket.  I guess she needs it for protection if she spends a lot of time waiting around alone in places like this.

"Is Lucy taking you to the airport in the morning?" I ask Cain when he gets back in and Lucy starts the car back up.  He nods yes.  "I hate for you to make her wait outside for you until 3:00 when she could be home sleeping until it's time to pick you up in the morning."

"Are you asking me to sleep over?" he asks with his cocksure grin.

"You could sleep on the couch," I offer.

"I
could
," is all he says on the subject, and when Lucy pulls over in front of my house and Cain pulls a small suitcase and a garment bag out of the trunk, I realize he had planned to stay the night all along.  And I'll bet he also knows I don't have the conviction to make him sleep on the couch.

After we eat, I brush my teeth, and as I turn to leave the bathroom, Cain is standing there watching me, wearing nothing but a pair of dark blue, silk pajama pants.  His body is exquisite, not too ripped, just perfectly outlined muscles on his chest, stomach, and arms.  His chest is smooth, though I can't tell if it goes all the way down, I can't wait to find out...in the dark...feeling my way with my tongue.  Rattled at my own salacious thoughts, I slip by him shyly as he steps into the bathroom with his toothbrush.

I put on my nightgown, a cotton shift that I admit is not sexy in any way, and when Cain comes back to the bedroom, he comes up quietly behind me, lifts it back over my head, and tosses it in the corner.  I freeze, suddenly powerless, reduced to an automaton by years of conditioning just because he took off my gown without asking.  With his hands on my shoulders, I feel his breath on my neck, and though I know if I don't stop him right now there won't be any stopping him at all, he surprises me by sliding my arms into the sleeves of the shirt that matches his pajama bottoms.  He reaches around me to close the buttons, my usually insensitive nipples tightening as his wrists graze them.  He stops, turning me around, looking at my hard nipples through the thin silk with a lusty stare.  Shy, I try to quickly button the shirt.

"Uh-uh," he says as he lifts me up and sits me on the dresser then starts to pull the shirt open.  I tense.  I won't look at him.

"Shhh..." he breathes, and I become more withdrawn.  I can't tell him why, even if I could find my voice, but somehow he seems to know just what I need.

"May I?" he asks.

"Yes," I whisper, those words making all the difference in the world, and as I allow Cain to open the shirt, I only feel the natural anxiety of anyone else in a position like this for the very first time.

"You have beautiful tits, Evan," he says, gently tracing his finger around one nipple of my natural C-cups.  He wets his finger, but it's the thought of it, not the sensation, that turns me on, even when he takes it into his mouth, his tongue swirling around it.

"They aren't sensitive, are they?" Cain asks.

"You'd probably have to bite them to get a reaction out of me," I admit apologetically.

"Then I'll bite them," he growls, and as he gently takes my nipple between his teeth, an intense wave of pleasure rolls outward, awakening every part of me from my jaw line to the back of my knees.

Fuck me, how have I never thought of this before?

"More?" he asks.

"Yes," I murmur, and he bites harder.  It's exactly what I need.

"More?" 

Oh, yes!  But...

"We have to slow down," I say reluctantly.

"As you wish," Cain says, and as if I were a living doll, he buttons the shirt.  When he sets me back on my feet, I notice his cock is hard and pushing the fabric of his pants as far as it can go.  I want to touch it, run my fingernails along the shaft through the thin silk hiding it from me, get down on my knees and feel my lips around it through the fabric, yank his pants off and... 

But I don't.  I haven't touched a man there since I raised the price of admission, and before that, I was just an awkward teenager with no idea what I was doing.

"I'm not apologizing for it," Cain says, his eyes blue and his expression intense.  "I've suffered for you since the night we met."  I don't know what to say, and embarrassed by my own arousal, I take the easy way out, making a joke.

"That's a pretty melodramatic way of saying you've been a walking hard-on," I snipe.

"That's not exactly what I meant, but if it bothers you, you can always put that thing back on."  He indicates the nightgown he took off of me, and I giggle.

"Is that the sexiest thing in your lingerie drawer?" he asks.

"I don't have a lingerie drawer," I admit.

"What about your panties?" he asks, lifting the pajama shirt a little to see the side of my plain, black, cotton underwear.  "Are they all this boring?"

"Yes." 

"We'll begin remedying that when I get back from Boston," he says as if it's the most natural thing in the world as he leads me toward the bed.  He slides his arm under me, positioning me on my side to lay my head on his bare chest where I can hear his heartbeat.  It's too fast for sleep.

"Goodnight," Cain says.  I echo him, but I don't want it to be goodnight.  He'll be gone when I wake up tomorrow, and I won't see him until Tuesday afternoon, which seems like an eternity to me now.  I feel restless.

"I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier," Cain whispers, then he kisses me atop the head.  "It just makes me crazy that you can't see how perfect you are." 

"I thought you weren't going to kiss me until I begged for it," I tease.

"That was not the kiss you'll beg for, little girl, and when I do give you that kiss, you'll shamelessly beg for more." 

"Goodnight, Cain," I say sternly as I take a swat at him with my free hand for being such an arrogant son-of-a-bitch, but inside I'm begging already.

We wake Friday morning before Cain's cell phone alarm.  It's early, though I'm not sure how early as the blackout shades keep my room dark as night, but with Cain's arm around me, my head rested on his chest, I feel like I've slept at least eight hours.

"Hey," he whispers.

"Hey," I echo, beginning to pull away from him, but he braces me, grabbing my leg to keep me from moving.

"Did you sleep well?" he asks.

"Yeah," I say.  "You?"

"Not really," he says, disappointing me.

"I'm sorry.  I don't know why I ended up like this," I say, trying to pull away again, but he holds me firm.

"That wasn't the problem," Cain explains, and it only takes the slightest movement of his hips to draw my attention to the exact location of my knee.  What I had assumed was a hip bone, I now realize is his cock, hard as a bone against my leg.  I slowly move it, feeling every inch of his erection slide against it, and though I know it would be a mistake, all I can think about is climbing atop him to unleash everything that has been smoldering inside me since I first laid eyes on him.

And so what if I did? 
My arousal asks.  I really don't have a good answer for her, and she's tired of my excuses anyway.

"You're trembling," Cain says.

"Just a little cold," I lie.  "I'm sorry I kept you...up." 

"You tortured me all night."

"Well then, if it's torture, we'll have to do this again when you get back from Boston."

"You're so cruel," he says.

"The way I have it figured," I say, propping myself up on one elbow.  "If it's okay for you to treat me like your girlfriend when I have expressed no willingness to be your girlfriend, then I have every right to torture you like your Dominatrix even though you are clearly against submitting to me."

"Is that what you want to be to me?  My Dominatrix?" he asks, amused.

"I don't know, maybe."

"If you can't stand the thought of submitting, what makes you think I can?" 

"If you can't, why should I?" I give it right back.

"Because I'm so, very good at it," Cain whispers, his expression positively licentious.  I can't take the heat.

"Do you really have to go back to Boston today?  Can't it wait until Monday morning?" I pout.

"To smooth over walking out of a meeting to come back to you Thursday, I agreed to spend the weekend working with the client, and now I have to go to some boring, black tie event tonight.  In fact, since this is all your fault, you should make it up to me by coming with me."

"I can't.  I have to work."

"I'm sure we could get someone to cover for you."

"We?  Is there something I should know?"

"That I will buy Prometheus and fire you if that's what I have to do to get you to come with me."

"Cain," I say, swatting him playfully, trying to make it just go away.  Of course I want to come.  I'd love nothing more that to go to a black tie event in Boston on the arm of Cain Ballantyne, but the whole idea of it terrifies me.  I've never gone to anything like that.  Just the thought of it conjures images of me tongue-tied and tripping over my own feet.  I redirect him.  "Isn't Lucy coming for you soon?"

"I'm not sure," he says, laughing at me like he knows exactly what I'm doing.  "What time is it?"

"Time for you to make me breakfast," I say, boldly as I rise to get out of bed.  I almost make a clean getaway, but he grabs my wrist, pulling me back to him.

"If I make you breakfast, it will be because you're tied to the bed and can't cook it yourself, wench," he teases.

"You're only making this harder on yourself, Playboy."