Damaged In-Law (18 page)

“
I don’
t know. You have to say it,” he
commands, holding me up against his solid form, lest I tumble over, “Say you
want me to fuck you. Right here. Right now.”

I force myself to look straight into his stunning,
smoldering eyes as I take a shaky breath and press on, “I want you to fuck me,
Jack. Please, I...”

But my words trail off into a low moan as he slips two
fingers beneath my panties, stroking along my wet, eager slit. I cling to his
shoulders as those two masterful fingers run along the length of my sex, over
and over again, working me into a fevered frenzy. Finally, just as I can
’
t take it a second longer, he slides them inside of me. I bury
my face in Jack
’
s muscled neck, kissing him fiercely as
his fingers flex against that tender sensitive spot.

A low, mounting pressure starts to blossom in my core,
blooming with every stroke of Jack
’
s strong fingers. But
as those fingers zero in on my hard, throbbing clit, that sensation skyrockets,
shooting through my entire body. It
’
s a miracle I stay on
my feet at all.

“Oh my god...” I moan, as Jack rolls that hard nub in his
expert fingers, “That
’
s so fucking
good
...”

“Christ, Callie,” he murmurs, bearing down on that aching
button. “I love seeing you like this.”

I gasp as Jack spins me around, pulling my back to his chest
and wrapping a supportive arm around my waist. It
’
s a good
thing, too. As he works over my screaming, sensitive clit, I can barely keep
myself upright. The waves of mounting pleasure roll through me, and I can feel
myself on the cusp of being swept away.

“Fuck,” I gasp, letting my head fall back against his chest
as my legs tremble uncontrollably. “Jack, I
’
m so close...”

“I just want to make you feel amazing,” he growls, his
breath hot against my neck, “I want you to come for me, Callie.”

“I
’
m...I
’
m right
there...” I gasp, my entire body reeling with the crashing pleasure that
courses through me.

“
Come
,” he growls, tracing quick, firm circles around
my clit, flicking and caressing me with searing precision.

Jack has no way of knowing this, but I
’
ve
never had a man make me come before. Every orgasm I
’
ve
ever had has been my own handiwork. And so, as I feel myself barreling toward
bliss with Jack
’
s body fast against mine, I almost don
’
t know what
’
s happening. Not until that
hot, tell-tale sensation erupts inside of me, spilling out into every cell of
my being. I cry out as I come for him, my body wracked with bliss. He holds me
close as the waves of pleasure crash through me, again and again.

But even as I come to and spin back to face him, meeting his
ravenous gaze, I know that I
’
m not nearly done with him
yet.

“Come here,” I whisper, catching his face in my hands.

I bring my lips to his, letting my tongue sweep into his
mouth as he lifts me off the ground. He grabs me firmly by the ass and pulls me
against him, my legs wrapping around his tapered hips. In three quick steps he
’
s carried me out of the lights of the stage, back into the
shadows of the backstage curtains. I hook my ankles around his waist as he
spins me around and pushes me up against the rough wall. I bury my fingers in
his hair as he rips open the buckle of his belt with a metallic click.

His hands slide up beneath my red top, cupping my breasts
firmly as he holds me pinned to the wall. I breathe in sharply as he pinches my
hard nipples, just hard enough for it to feel absolutely amazing. My head falls
back against the wall as he shoves down his trousers and briefs, letting his
hard cock spring out. I let my eyes fall on that thick, gorgeous length that I
’
ve fantasized about so many times. My entire body is screaming
to feel him inside of me. I can
’
t wait another second.

And luckily, I don
’
t have to.

Fixing that arresting blue gaze on my rapturous face, Jack holds
me fast with my back pressed firmly to the wall. I groan as I feel the tip of
his staggering cock brush against the throbbing wetness between my legs. He
hovers there for just a moment, a breath. And then, with one forceful buck of
his powerful hips, he drives into me at long last.

It
’
s a moment I
’
ve
been thinking about, dreaming of, for over a decade. My expectations are sky
high—but the real thing blows right past them in a heartbeat.

I cry out into the vaulted ceilings of the theater as he barrels
deep inside of me, splitting me open. He
’
s absolutely
enormous, and for a moment I wonder if I
’
ll even be able
to take all of him. But our bodies have been waiting for this for a long time.
We
’
re primed for each other. It feels like we
’
ve already been here a million times, even as it feels
scintillatingly new. I meet his every thrusting pass, marveling as he goes
deeper and deeper, to my very core. It
’
s like he could
drive right through me—and maybe he might.

“Goddammit,” he groans, “You feel so fucking good, Cal...”

“I can feel every inch of you,” I whisper, digging my hands
into his dark brown hair, “I want to feel you come, too.”

“I
’
m there...” he gasps, pinning my
hands over my head as he barrels toward the edge of oblivion, “I
’
m...I
’
m...”

With one final, searing thrust, Jack slams into that
perfect, delicious place deep inside of me and comes
hard
. I feel a
whole realm of bliss unlock itself to me as he cracks me wide open and fills me
up. He thrusts slow and deep as our shared orgasm sweeps through our bodies,
leveling us both. We collapse into each other, our chests heaving as we hold
each other wordlessly. Swathed in the backstage darkness, wrapped up in Jack
’
s sturdy arms, I feel truly safe for the first time in a very
long while. Perhaps
ever
. Who would have thought that a fast and dirty
fuck in the back of theater could be so perfect?

“So,” I breathe, as Jack lowers me back onto my high-heeled
feet.

“So,” he smiles, his eyes glowing warmly.

“Was that the surprise you had in mind?” I ask.

“Hey, that surprised me just as much as you,” he laughs
throatily.

“It was a good surprise, I hope?” I ask, pulling my skirt
back into place.

“The best I could ever imagine,” he replies, wrapping his
arms around my waist.

“
Good answer,
” I grin, standing on tip
toe to kiss him once more. It
’
s amazing how easy it
already feels between us. Almost too easy, too good to be true. But I
’
m not going to worry about it now. There are more pressing
things to consider, at the moment.

“We should probably get cleaned up,” I say quietly.

“
That
’
s
a fact,” he
chuckles, pulling up his briefs and buckling himself back up.

“Come on,” I smile, strolling back onto the stage and
grabbing the two unopened bottles of wine. “What do you say to a limousine joy
ride through the city?”

“I say...you
’
re adjusting to this movie
star thing just fine,” Jack grins, shaking his head.

“Do we need to clean up, or...?” I ask, looking at our
mostly-devoured feast.

“I take it back. You haven
’
t become a
diva quite yet,” he amends. “No, we don
’
t have to clean
up. I paid off a couple of stage hands to take care of everything.”

“Old theater kid habits die hard I guess,” I laugh, “Let
’
s go!”

I hand him a bottle, grab my gorgeous bouquet, and all but
float back out of the theater. I steal a glance at the space as we go. If I
could have known five years ago that I
’
d be back here some
day, and what I
’
d be
doing
back here...It
’
s almost too incredible to think about.

“This really was amazing, Jack,” I whisper, “Thank you.”

“Anything for you,” he replies, slipping an arm around my
waist. “I mean it.
Anything
.”

“I
’
ll hold you to that,” I smile, as we
make our way back out into the night.

The limo is waiting for us on the curb as we step outside. I
smooth down my obvious sex hair as best I can, but I
’m sure I’
m
not fooling anybody. Good thing this corner of the village tends to be more or
less deserted.

Or at least, it used to be.

A dozen clamoring voices start chattering away as the
theater door swings shut behind us. All around us, reporters brandish smart phones
and recording devices, snapping pictures and lobbing unintelligible questions.
I freeze, imagining what Jack and I must look like from their point of view:
Disheveled, flushed, booze-in-hand, clothes all disarranged. We look like we
’
ve just had raunchy, drunken sex in an abandoned building. And
that impression is only made worse by the fact that we totally
did
.

Jack takes my hand and tugs me through the crowd. We all but
dive into the waiting limo and peel away, but the damage is done. By morning, our
faces will be plastered across every gossip blog and tabloid the world over.

“Guess I
’
m starting to get the hang of
this celebrity thing after all,” I sigh.

Chapter Fourteen

Wow...I really need to get these sex dreams under control
.

So goes my first waking thought as I float up from a deep, restorative
sleep. These naughty nocturnal fantasies have been a nightly occurrence ever
since I moved into The Rouge, but this last one was much more vivid than usual.
There was the rough, glorious first round in The Ingenue theater, then the
second round in the backseat of the limo, then the third
and
forth back
at the hotel after a bottle of wine each.

Maybe I need to buy a new vibrator or something. Clearly,
I need to be getting off more,
my mind continues to churn sleepily. But the
thing is, I don
’
t feel a bunch of pent-up sexual tension
inside of me, begging to be released. In fact, I feel relaxed and incredibly
taken care of. I don
’
t understand how the two things can
coincide—wild sex dreams and deep satisfaction.

That is, until I feel a muscular arm circle around my waist
and tug my gently back against a broad, sculpted chest.

My eyes spring open, taking in the scene all at once. I
’
m not in my own bedroom at The Rogue at all. I
’
m
in Jack
’
s room. In Jack
’
s bed. With
Jack
’
s arm wrapped firmly around my body. Scratch that—my
naked
body, as I discover when I peer down under the covers. I glance over my bare
shoulder, trying to keep as still as possible, and find Jack
’
s
sleeping face resting on the pillow beside mine.

The world pauses in its rotation as I take in the sight of
Jack, asleep. His face is as relaxed as I
’
ve ever seen it,
almost heartbreaking in its peacefulness. His strong, square jaw, defined
cheekbones, and smooth brow rest easily, and I almost don
’
t
recognize him without the wide, lopsided grin.

I
’
ve dreamed of seeing him like this
for more than ten years. And finally, here he is beside me. I wish there was a
way to freeze time, right in this moment. The second we roll out of bed, the
rest of the world will come flooding back in. The photographers, the gossip,
the tabloids. If I had my druthers, all of that would fade away like fog burned
off by the sun.

Of course, that
’
s the
real
fantasy. Reality could never be so simple. But even if it isn
’
t
simple, it can still be so, so sweet. Isn’t his sleeping face proof enough of
that?

“Hey,” Jack murmurs, that grin blossoming back into place as
he opens his dark blue eyes, “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Oh, you know,” I sigh, turning to snuggle against his bare
chest, “I was just in the neighborhood. Thought I
’
d stop
by.”

“
Well I
’
m glad you
did,” he replies, kissing the top of my head as I fit myself to the contours of
his perfectly balanced form. I practically start purring as he lets his hands
roam down along my body, across the dip of my waist, the rise of my ass. A
thousand images from our wild, uninhibited evening of sex race through my mind.
We may have a lot of lost time to make up for, but we got a pretty good jump on
the effort last night.

“I can
’
t believe how many bottles of
wine we went through,” I murmur, resting my cheek against his shoulder, “Why
don
’
t I feel more hungover after all that?”

“Guess we burned most of the booze right off,” Jack chuckles
throatily, giving my ass a naughty squeeze. “Who would have thought that
Calista Benson was such a sex fiend?”

“Excuse me,” I laugh, giving him a playful punch, “But I
consider myself more of a Jackson Cole fiend than a sex fiend, thanks.”

“I
’
ll take it,” Jack grins, brushing
the tousled hair away from my face. “But seriously, how do you feel this
morning? I know things got a little...
vigorous
, there at the end last
night.”

The vivid memory of Jackson bending me over the leather
couch and taking me roughly from behind as the view of New York City sprawled
out before us nearly makes me come again on the spot.

“I may be a little sore,” I allow with a mischievous smile,
“But it’s the good kind of sore. I promise.”

“That
’
s good,” Jack murmurs, looking me
straight in the eyes, “You
’
ll tell me if things ever get
too heated for you, right?”

“Christ Jack, what do you have in mind for next time? Some
Fifty Shade
s of Grey
shit?” I laugh, swinging my legs over
the side of the bed and stretching out my arms.

“Hey, you made the suggestion first, not me,” he replies,
sitting up behind me. He wraps his arms around my waist, kissing down along my
neck.

“My only suggestion for the time being is breakfast,” I tell
him, savoring the feel of his lips against my skin.

“Let me order up some room service,” Jack replies, giving me
an affection squeeze before pulling himself out of bed.

He strides across his bedroom in the altogether, totally at
ease. I
’
m amazed at how comfortable we already feel in
each other’s company, and elated to find that nothing about our dynamic has
changed in the morning light. We
’
re still the bantering,
supportive friends we
’
ve always been...only now we get to
screw like rabbits, as well. Talk about having your cake and eating it, too.
Though my current appetite isn
’
t exactly for
cake
…

Jack slips into a pair of jeans and a tee shirt, tossing a second
tee shirt to me. I wrap myself up in the garment, loving the feel of it against
my bare breasts and belly. Only now, I don
’
t have to bury
my nose in a shirt to savor his scent—my whole body smells like Jackson Cole. I
’
ll never get enough of that.

I pad out into the main room of the suite as Jack calls in
our breakfast order. Settling onto one of the stools that line the kitchenette
counter, I reach for my purse and pull out my phone.

“No,” Jack says firmly, snatching the device out of my hand.

“What do you mean, ‘no
’
?” I ask,
grabbing for my phone and missing as he holds it up out of my reach. Seeing as
he’s got more than a foot on me, height wise, this isn’t much of a challenge
for him.

“No, you
’
re not allowed to look at your
phone,” he tells me, dangling the device over my head. “Not today.”

“I
’
m not really in the habit of taking
orders, Jack,” I say tersely.

“What do you mean? What about all your
Fifty
Shades
fantasies?” he teases.

“
I don’
t have—That was a—Give me my
phone back!”
I demand,
“I need to check emails, and see if
Bernadette is cool with watering my house plants, and—”

“Callie,” Jack says frankly, “Please. Don
’
t
check your phone today. As a favor to me.”

“But why not?” I ask, crossing my arms.

“Because,” Jack explains, sitting on the stool beside me,
“The second you look at your phone, you know what you
’
re
going to see? Millions of pictures, and tweets, and bullshit articles about us.
And they
’
re not going to be flattering.”

“You don
’
t know that,” I reply.

“Yes I do,” he insists, “That
’
s exactly
what happened to me and Avery, the second she moved to LA and started spending
time with me. And we weren
’
t even a real couple! Just
imagine what the media is going to have to say about
us
.”

“Us...” I echo, trying to swallow my goofy grin. “So, do you
consider us an ‘Us
’
now?”

“No semantic bullshit before I
’
ve had
my coffee, I beg you,” Jack laughs, shaking his head, “But I mean, yeah. Of
course I think of you and me as an
us
. A team.”

“And by team…Do you mean ‘
couple
’?” I
suggest breathlessly.

Jack looks at me for a long moment, his dark brown hair
tousled with sex and sleep, the scruff on his chin just a hint thicker than
usual. The joking expression fades away from his face as he meets my gaze in
all seriousness.

“I don’t exactly have a good track record, when it comes to
being part of a couple,” he tells me.

“Well, that makes two of us,” I reply. “But records are
meant to be broken, right?”

“The problem with my record is that it’s public,” Jack goes
on, his brow furrowing, “The entire world has an opinion about my romantic
history. Especially the bit about me being ‘engaged’ to your sister.”

“But that wasn’t real,” I insist.

“To the tabloids, it was,” he says, shaking his head. “And
that means that you and I being together is not going to go down easy with
them. They’re going to give us hell, no matter what we do.”

“Jack,” I say softly, glancing down at my hands, “I was
entirely cut off from my family at eighteen. I’ve spent the past decade
entirely on my own, with about ten bucks to my name. My twin sister just died
at the age of twenty-five. I know what hell is. A few bitchy blog posts aren’t
going to stop me from going after what I want.”

“And what is it you want, Cal?” he asks, his voice rasping
ever-so-slightly. “For you and me to be a couple?”

“Sure,” I laugh nervously.

“I need a yes or a no,” he says, “This is too important for
‘sure
’
.”

“
Then...yes,
” I breathe, after a long
moment. “Yes, Jack. I want to be a couple. I want to be with you. I
’
ve
always
wanted that.”

“So have I, Callie. So have I,” he replies, reaching for my
hand on the counter. “Ever since we were a couple of angst-y, punk-ass kids who
couldn
’
t wait to throw their lives away and follow their
batshit crazy dreams.”

“I
’
m just glad our dreams led us back
to the same place,” I whisper, squeezing his strong, sure hands.

“Me too,” he murmurs, moving his lips toward mine, “Me
too...”

“Room service!” calls a cheerful voice from the other side
of the front door.

Jack and I roll our eyes, laughing at the interruption. Our intimate
moments have always had a tendency to be derailed, only now it doesn
’
t matter. We can just pick up right where we left off again.

How incredible is that?

After we devour our incredible breakfast and drink about a
gallon of coffee each, we
’
re finally ready to start our
day. It
’
s Saturday, a day free from sets, and lines, and
costumes. We
’
ve been shooting
City in Red
at such a
breakneck pace that I
’
ve almost forgotten what free time
feels like. Luckily, Jack is here to help me while away the hours.

We hop into the shower together, unable to keep ourselves
from indulging in a quick, sudsy fuck. I could get used to this 24/7
sex-on-demand, that
’
s for sure. I
’
ve
always been a pretty sensual person, but I
’
ve never had a
partner who made me feel this ravenous before. It
’
s like
my appetite for Jack only grows more immense every time we have each other.

Once we
’
re all cleaned up from our
less-than-squeaky-clean, Jack and I plan out the rest of our day.

“First of all, no internet,” Jack begins, “That rule stands.
No cell phones, no computers, nothing. You got me?”

“Copy that,” I reply, “But how are we supposed to go out and
have an awesome day off in the city if the paparazzi are out for blood? Are you
sure we shouldn’t just stay in and marathon
Friends
on Netflix or
something?”

“First of all, fuck no. Secondly, we
’
ll manage,
” Jack assures me, “We can
’
t stop
living our lives just because some asshole photographers don
’
t
understand the idea of personal space.”

“OK,” I reply, “You’re the expert. So, where should we go?”

“Somewhere they
’
ll never think to look
for us,” Jack says, with a conspiratorial glint in his eye.

“Where would that be for you, the public library?” I tease
him.

“Ha, ha,” he barks, catching me before I can dart away. He
trails his lips down my throat, biting ever-so-lightly as he murmurs, “Let
’
s go to Coney Island.”

“What?” I laugh incredulously, “Jack, it
’
s
February.”