Jahleel (16 page)

“Everyone,” he echoed, sounding offended.

The truth offended him? He didn’t like hearing out loud that he was a man-whore?

Jahleel reached a hand out to my face, pressing his palm gently on my cheek. When I turned to face him, he held me in his stare and asked with a serious expression, “Why, then, do you want to be one of many?”

Not knowing how to respond, I only stared back at him.

Of course, I knew I was a prat for chasing down one of the biggest womanizers I’ve ever met. I mean,
who
does that? Sensible women would run in the other direction—unless they were groupies or doormats. And with how I’ve been behaving of recent, I might as well fall under one of those categories—doormat, no doubt.

With Jahleel pointing it out, it came clear how dumb I was. He was giving me foresight into the future and giving me an out, sparing me from heartbreak, and I was in an apoplectic rage about it.

Sighing, I reached out and trailed my fingertips along his incredible jawline. His facial hair was smooth and silky instead of scratchy. He was damn well perfect. “Okay. I understand.”

As I was about to move my fingers over his lips—lips I’d never get to kiss—he caught my wrist. “This is intimate touching,” he whispered. “You have no idea what a simple touch like this could lead to.”

Oh, God, this was going to be hard.

Scrunching his nose, he sniffed once and brought the hand he still held up under his nose and sniffed again.

My face burned with embarrassment, as that’s the hand I’d had stuck down my knickers.

That damned crooked grin of his popped onto his face as he cocked an eyebrow at me. “What did I interrupt?”

Yanking my hand from him, I trained my eyes up to the ceiling, mortified and unable to look at him. But he knew, so it didn’t make sense lying. “I had a hectic day. I was trying to release some stress.”

His grin was so palpable, I didn’t even have to look. “You may proceed…”

“What about not being ‘intimate’?”

“Just observing here,” he remarked, “Never mind me.”

So I wasn’t allowed to have sex with him, but I was supposed to be all uninhibited porn star Masturbating Saskia for him?

“It never works, anyway. So, whatever.”

“What’d you mean?”

“I can’t make myself come.”

“You serious?” he asked in disbelief.

“As a heart attack.”

“Wow. That last boyfriend must’ve been damn good in bed.”

“Not the last boyfriend,” I corrected. “The one before the last.”

Tex, whom I mentioned earlier, the rock god who gave me screaming orgasms. Up until this moment, I hadn’t considered he was probably the one who ruined all other orgasms for me.

Silence stretched as Jahleel said nothing for a while, and I wondered what he was thinking. After an eternal moment of quietude, he whispered, “Where do you want me?”

Dragging my gaze from the ceiling, I glanced over at him. “What?”

Taking a hold of my hand, he lifted the covers and guided my hand down into my knickers, being careful not to let his fingers brush so much as a hair on my skin. Leaving my hand there, his withdrew his hand from under the covers. “Now, close your eyes, and tell me,” he ordered. “
Wher
e do you want me?”

Ohhhh, he meant in my fantasies. How arrogant to think I fantasized about him, which I did, but still.

Complying, I cut off sight and circled my middle finger over my clit. “A confession booth, in a medieval Vatican.”

“A w-what?”

“A confession booth,” I repeated. “You know, where people go to confess their sins.”

Silence, then, “You’re fuckin’ kiddin’ me, right?”

One eye popped open and glared at him. “Hey, this is
my
fantasy, okay? So shut up and talk.”

“I’m confused. Am I supposed to shut up or talk?”

“JK!” I growled.

“Okay, okay,” he laughed. “Carry on.”

When my one eye closed down again, he asked, “What am I doing?”

“You’re the priest on the other side, in your black robe and white collar, hair slicked back, and I’m confessing that I’ve never had my bits eaten before.”

Jahleel was quiet, so I went on. “You say, ‘Such a sin, such a shame, such a waste’. And I say, ‘What must I do, Father? This sin is so…heavy. So burdensome.”

Still silence. I continued. “You say, ‘I could wash your sins away, Maiden.’ And I say, ‘How, Father?’ Then you open a small trap door in the booth, stick your head through, flick your tongue out and say, ‘With this. Lift your gown and let me wash away all your dirty little sins.’ Oh, I’m a nun, by the way—”

At the sound of a heavy thud, I stopped talking and opened my eyes.

Jahleel wasn’t on the bed.

When I propped myself up and leaned over the side of the bed, Jahleel was there on the floor clutching his stomach with one hand. He had stuffed his balled fist in his mouth as he fought to stifle his laugh.

Fucker fell off the bed laughing.

“Ha. Ha,” I grumbled.

Removing his hand from his mouth, he let the laughter rip. “Sorry, Sassy, but, what the
fuck
was that?” He laughed even harder, looking up at me from the floor with glistening golden eyes. “Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?
That’s
where your mind goes when you fantasize?”

“Stay down there and laugh, bloody wanker,” I snapped, flopping back onto the bed.

Jerkily getting to his feet, he shook his head, “No wonder you can’t come. That shit’s hilarious.”

“Everybody’s fantasies are different, nitwit.”

Jahleel regained his place back beside me on the bed, closer this time. Me under the covers, him on top of them. “Just let me do the talkin’ this time, okay?”

“Okay,” I agreed, because I seriously needed to come.

Having Jahleel so close to me—his breath hot on my face, his scent shrouding me—caused major turmoil inside.

“Take off your underwear,” he ordered.

Sparing not a second, I dragged my knickers down and finished kicking them off with my legs, perfectly comfortable with the idea because Jahleel couldn’t see me under the covers.

“Now, spread your legs.”

I complied.

“Even wider.”

I did that, too.

“Close your eyes.”

When I closed them, his breathing suddenly turned raspy as he started, “You’re in a room…painted a deep, dark red. Nothing’s in this room but a black chair wrapped in smooth silk, fixed in the centre of the room. Perched on this chair, Sassy, is you. Naked, legs spread wide, nipples hard, dripping wet, breathing ragged. But you can’t touch yourself, you’re not allowed to. You’re waiting…”

“On you,” I finished for him, my fingers gliding in and out of my now soaked core.

“Yes,” he husked out, sounding a bit like he was struggling. “You want me there?”

“Oh, God,
yes
,” I moaned out.

“Well, call me into the room.”

“JK.”

“Can’t hear you,” his voice was hoarse. That made me even wetter.

“JK.”

“I’m near, but you have to call louder.”

“Jahleel fucking Kingston!” I all but screamed as I buried two fingers deep inside myself, hips lifting up off the bed. “Please. Come. Touch me.”

Long silence, then, “Am I there?”

“Yes,” I mewled.

“Where am I?”

“Kneeling between my legs.”

“What am I doing, Sassy?” he breathed on me, his lips were right at my ear now. “
Tell
me.”

“You’re licking me…ohmigod…”

“Go on…”

“Your hands, those strong hands are gripping my thighs, spreading them wider apart, and even wider…I try to touch you, but you deny me. Why can’t I touch you, JK?” I complained through a deep moan.

“What do I do next?”

“You’ve gripped my waist and hauled me to the very edge of the chair, and now you’re licking me again and…oh, God…Oh, God…Oh fucking god!!!”

I teetered on the brink as Fantasy Jahleel ate me like there was no tomorrow.

“Tell me what I’m doing, Sassy,” Jahleel commanded harshly in my ear. “I
need
to see.”

“You-You’re flicking my clit with your finger. Flick, then lick, flick then lick…oh fuck…Don’t stop…Don’t stop…”

By this point, I could barely breathe let alone talk, but I struggled through my ragged breaths as Jahleel’s own harsh breathing in my ear spurred me on. “You slide two…two…two…oh sakes…two fingers inside me and finger-fuck me, not hard…you’re gentle…so very gentle…You lean in and cover my clit with your mouth and—”

It hit me hard, and I jolted, arching up off the bed, my body rigid as the waves of my orgasm crashed over me, rippling on. Biting down on my lower lip, I moaned loud and deep in my throat, riding out the waves.

Too soon the euphoria died, and piece by piece, I came back to earth.

When I opened my eyes, Jahleel was off the bed and on his feet, watching me, hands in his pockets and making no attempt whatsoever to hide his hard-on.

“You’re leaving?”

“Yes.”

“Wait. No,” I begged. “Stay. I want to do that again.”

“You wanna come when you masturbate, that’s how you do it,” he said with a small smile. “No more medieval confession booths, priests and nuns.”

“Okay.”
How do I get him to stay?

As he turned to leave, I couldn’t help asking, “You’re going to shag someone now, aren’t ya?”

He stopped and turned slightly, glancing down at the bulge in his jeans. “Well…yeah.”

Extremely grateful for his honesty, yes, but I hated that it hurt
so damn much
. I wanted much more than what he was offering, even if I would end up heartbroken in the end.

Fiddling with the hem of my Cami tank, I lamely whispered, “May I ask just one favour of you?”

“Shoot.”

“Could you…” I hesitated, knowing it was fool of me to ask this, but swallowed the ounce of sense and dignity I had left, and got it out, “Could you at least pretend she’s me?”

He caught his lower lip between his teeth and watched me for a beat before answering, “That’s the intention, Sassy.”

Then he turned and slipped through the door.

I stared at the door long after he’d gone through it, praying, hoping, he would come back in and tell me he’d changed his mind.

When a solid twenty minutes passed and I realized he wasn’t coming back, I burrowed myself under the covers, and for the first time in a long while, I sobbed.

Jahleel was hurting me by trying not to hurt me.

It fucking
hurt
.

Chapter Ten

T
he next morning, I was frozen.

Standing in the kitchen with a glass of orange juice in hand—a glass of orange juice I’d poured out around fifteen minutes before and had yet to take a sip. Immobile, mindless, I just stood there, staring into space, with my lower back propped against the counter.

Amanda came dragging into the kitchen, yawning and rubbing her face. Upon seeing me, she stopped in her tracks, observing, but respecting the silence.

Until she broke it. “Oh crap.”

Eyes fixated on a sugar jar on the counter across from me, I spoke like a zombie. “I was doing so well, Manda. Have you heard me even utter his name at all over the past week?”

“No,” she cautiously replied.

“I haven’t thought about him either. I was ready. Ready to leave here for good. Ready to forget it all. Ready to move on. Ready to call Chad over to fuck me ten shades of purple.”

Silence.

Amanda stood patiently and waited for me to gather my thoughts and enlighten her regarding the funk she’d just found me in. “But no. He couldn’t let me be. He just had to come here like a thief in the fucking night and steal back everything!!”

Drawing back my arm, I launched my glass of orange juice across the room with all I had. Glass splinters and orange liquid shattered everywhere when it smashed through the glass-faced cabinet door. “Jesus Christ, Kia.”

Whirling around, I jabbed an angry finger in her face, as though
she
was the captor, the heart-breaker, the womanizer, the game-player, the bloody thief. “Every-goddamn-thing! All my strength, all my sense of worth, all my thoughts, all my dignity. My fucking heart! He stole it all back. As though none of it were ever mine to begin with.”