Sidelined (3 page)

My eyes widen briefly, and I stare at the side of his head as we walk into the lobby and he presses the button for the elevator. His lips twitch, and damn, I swallow hard.

“They are?”

The elevator doors open and Jack swings me into the enclosed space. My back presses against the wall, his front against mine, every deliciously tight pack of muscle flush against me.

“Yeah, M,” he whispers, leaning in. “And quit the shy, shocked bullshit, because I know—I fuckin’
know
—that you own your sexuality, so let it loose or I’m gonna fuck it out of you. Then we’ll have to do it twice.”

I inhale slowly, feeling his mouth hovering over mine. “You know,” I breathe, bringing my hand to grip his shirt and pull his chest against mine, “that isn’t too much of a threat, handsome.”

“Good, because I was plannin’ on twice anyway.” He spins me just as the elevator doors open. He all but pushes me from the elevator and down the hall to my apartment.

This is the third time his fine ass has been in my apartment. For real, this is freaking crazy.

I put my key in the lock, twist, and push. I drop the jingling bundle of crap into the glass bowl on the side table and stalk into my open-plan kitchen. His eyes are on me, burning into me, as I reach for the bottle of tequila, unscrew the cap, and tilt it up.

“Want some?” I offer, tilting the bottle his way.

He kicks his shoes off and stalks toward me. I tip the bottle again, but a drop has barely passed my lips when he snatches it from me and slams it onto the counter. His mouth descends on mine before I can utter so much as a squeak, and his hands circle my waist.

Our bodies slam together, and one of his hands snakes up my back, into my hair, and grips. Tight.

My curled locks knot around his fingers as he pushes me against the counter, and I fall into his kiss. His lips are hard and passionate, hot and demanding. They cover mine with a severity I’ve never felt, and I lean into him and fist his shirt. I feel him everywhere, from the tingling of the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end to the hot flow of my blood through my body.

Jack pulls away, breathing heavily, and tugs me along with every step he makes. I flatten my hand against his chest and stare at his eyes as he guides me toward my room. My heart is thumping against my ribs scarily fast, and the desire coiling in my clit sends a heavy feeling of need through me.

“This dress is fuckin’ illegal,” he murmurs, curling his fingertips around the hem that’s now halfway up my butt. “Tits and legs? Shit, baby.”

“Fashion faux pas,” I breathe.

“Not when you’re you.” He pushes the material up and over my head until I’m standing in front of him in my underwear and heels. “Fuck.”

He spins me and throws me onto my bed. I smile as I fall back and he leans over me, but the smile dies when he closes the distance between our mouths. Then he dominates me, takes over me, consumes all of my thoughts.

They’re all about how he’s grasping my hair yet again, how his tongue is fighting against mine in deep, hastened strokes, and how his goddamn fucking shirt is still on.

I undo the first button and pull the collar apart. “Off.”

He smiles against my mouth as I ease each button open and push the material over his shoulders. It’s a hot shirt, but what’s under it is even fucking hotter.

Jack closes two fingers over the clasp between my breasts. “Off.” He undoes it expertly and exposes my breasts. “Fuck.”

His mouth quickly travels from my jaw to my nipples. I gasp as I arch my back and claw at his back. His hips push against mine and I can feel his cock, so hard, against my pussy.

“Jack,” I gasp again, my fingers still digging into his back.

“You want me, baby?” he whispers into my ear, reaching down to undo his pants.

“Yes.”

He releases me to shove his pants and tight boxers down. His cock springs free, and I look as he hooks his fingers in my panties and slides them down my legs. Long, hard, and strong, his cock is begging for something—for my hand, my mouth, my pussy.

And I’m begging for
it.

And if I didn’t need him so badly right now, I’d slide off the bed, onto my knees, and take him into my mouth.

Jack reaches into the drawer of my nightstand and pulls a condom out. He opens the packet, extracts it, and rolls it onto his gorgeous cock. I reach between us to guide him into me, but he stills my hand and drops onto the bed next to me.

He pushes me onto my side, pulls my back against his body, and lifts my leg. I flatten my hand against the bed and inhale when he pushes against me. He rocks his hips once, and oh shit.
Oh shit.

He’s deep inside me, and he holds himself there, and he whispers, “Baby, fuck.”

“Stop talking and do it,” I demand breathlessly.

And he does.

My words flip a switch, because his fingers tighten on my hair and my thigh and he rams his cock inside me. I drop my head back against his shoulder and curl my hand around his neck as he pounds into me relentlessly, hard and quick and deep. His lips kiss across my neck as my heavy gasps turn to moans and his turn to grunts. I close my eyes as the sensation overtakes me.

And as the orgasm hits after whoever the fuck knows how long, Jack Carr proves he’s a man of his word, because a finger against my clit ignites a second.

W
here the fuck is the coffee?

I rifle through Macey’s cupboards in search of the coffee pods for the machine. Cupboard four and there’s no coffee. I’m not usually such a damn demon in the morning, but when a guy has a chick like that in a bed with him… Well, I’m taking advantage of that shit every time.

I asked, and she answered. After two killer orgasms courtesy of my cock, she did a couple of tequila shots courtesy of the bottle and then tugged me onto the bed so she could suck my dick. I let her until I decided her pussy is marginally better than her mouth and hauled her on top of me to finish us both off.

She did, and then she collapsed on top of me, my cock still inside her. I pulled the covers over us and rolled us to the side.

Find me a guy who can get his balls fucked off his body and still drive thirty minutes to get home and I’ll give him
my
balls.

“What the…” Macey stumbles out of her room, rubbing her eyes. “What the hell are you doin’ here?”

“You got a coffee machine and no coffee,” I reply.

“Fuckin’ Einstein,” she growls then focuses on me. “What are you doing here, Jack?”

“Looking for coffee, baby.”

“I don’t have any. Only instant.”

“You have a coffee machine and instant coffee?”

“Excuse me for not being an overpaid, football-playing prick,” she snaps and walks toward me. She picks upa small plastic beaker from the windowsill and grabs a hairband. “Not all of us can afford the rip-off prices of what-the-hell-ever brand that asshole machine is.”

I stare at her—dark, mussed curls in a twist on top of her head, cotton panties hugging her hips, and a tank top stretched over her braless breasts. And the frown on her face. Fuck, yeah. This bitch needs coffee.

“Hold that thought.” I turn to the door and pull my keys out.

“Where are you going?”

“To get you some real coffee, because, baby”—I look at her from the doorway—“you drink instant and you may as well drink your own piss. Now, be a babe and cook some bacon or something.”

“I don’t have bacon.”

“Then get ready to, because I’m bringing that back, too.”

She yells, but I shut the door behind me and head down to my car.

Macey glares at me even as she fries the bacon. It sizzles in the pan, and I bring my coffee mug to my lips and sip. Thank God for real coffee.

“You still haven’t told me what you’re still doing here.”

“I’m drinking coffee and waiting for a bacon sandwich.”

Macey drops three pieces onto a slice of bread, slaps another slice on top of it, and shoves the plate at me. “There. I can even get you a sandwich bag so you can have it to-go.”

“Got any ketchup?” I grin at her scowl, knowing she does because I found it on my coffee hunt earlier.

She holds out the bottle. “Grab it or I squirt it.”

I laugh and take it. Squirting some inside the sandwich, I glance up. “Knife?”

“You really want me to pass you one of those, Jack? Really?”

“Baby, I have six inches and probably one hundred pounds on you. I think I can deal with you passin’ me a knife.”

She huffs and grabs a knife from the drawer before slamming it so hard that it opens again. “Your knife.”

“Thanks.” I deliberately close my fingers over the top of hers and stare at her.

Macey snatches her hand back and turns away from me, heading toward her bedroom door. “I’m going to shower. With the door locked. The front door is behind you, just in case you happen to be lost.” She stops in the doorway and glances back, her pretty, pink lips pursed into annoyance. “And I think you are, considerin’ you’re sitting at my kitchen table.”

I take a bite from my sandwich and keep my eyes on her. “No bacon?”

“I don’t like bacon.” She disappears into her room and comes back out, wiping at her face.

I blink. “You don’t like bacon? How the fuck do you not like bacon?”

“Well, I like bacon just fine. As long as you aren’t around.” She smiles insincerely and quickly darts into the bathroom.

The lock clicks, and I take another bite from my sandwich.

She’s so fuckin’ adorable.

The shower starts up, and I stare at the closed door, chewing. Her phone, which is sitting on the table, glares at me, and I grab it. I quickly dial my number and, at the first ring, end the call. I put it back in the same place and turn back to the door to stare some more. And some more.

Thinking of her in there, naked, with water dripping all over her body… Fuck.

Someone’s gotta get into the White House and make bathroom door locks illegal.

The water flow stops, and I lean back on the chair and swing my feet onto the table, my coffee back in hand. My lips curve as she exits wrapped in a bright-pink towel and storms to her room. She’s about to shut the door when I put my coffee cup down so she knows I’m still here.

“I hope that’s a stray cat,” she mutters, turning slowly. She drops her head back and says something under her breath. “Why are you still here?”