“Ask nicely.”
“Please, Jennie. I wanna see how wet you are.”
Jennie pulls her fingers out, glistening and dripping. “Soaked.”
I groan, squeezing my cock. “Taste yourself, Jennie.”
Desire sparkles in her eyes, but so does uncertainty.
“Don’t go shy on me now, sunshine. We both know that’s not you. You’re my favorite flavor, so go on and taste.”
She paints a finger over her lower lip, making it shine, and I stop breathing when she drags her tongue across it. With her eyes locked on mine, she takes her fingers into her mouth, a throaty moan filling the air as she cleans herself off.
“Use your fingers,” I order gruffly.
“You’re not the boss of me.”
“The fuck I’m not. Ride your fingers, gorgeous, and pretend it’s my cock.”
A devilish smirk before she drags her fingers through her soaking slit, making herself quiver and flush. Jennie moans quietly as she pushes two fingers inside, heated stare fixed on my hand as I work my cock. I’m not going to last, and it’s her fault. Watching her love on her own body, appreciate all her curves and edges, is the biggest turn-on.
“One more,” I demand. “Can you do one more?”
Jennie doesn’t hesitate, plunging another finger, arching into her palm as she straddles that line. She squeezes a nipple, palming her perfect, round tit, her breath coming in spurts, and then her hand falls down her body, finding her clit.
“Fuck, Jennie. You’re so sexy.”
“Garrett,” she whimpers, eyes dazed. “I’m gonna come.”
So the fuck am I. My balls tighten, spine tingling, and the second Jennie cries out, slamming her thighs together, head falling back, I’m a goner.
“Fuck.” I roll off the bed, leap to my feet, and accidentally empty my entire load onto the carpet. “Oh shit.”
Jennie’s giggle quickly spirals out of control. “Did you just jizz on the floor?”
“It was an accident! I wasn’t prepared!” I grab a pillow.
“Not the pillow! Gross! Someone’s gonna put their face on that!”
“I’m overwhelmed!” I yell, running to the bathroom. I grab a wad of toilet paper, which, as it turns out, is a terrible idea. It starts disintegrating, leaving white clumps all over the carpet as I wipe at my mess. “This is gonna cost me.”
“Best money you’ve ever spent,” Jennie retorts smugly.
Groaning, I collapse on the bed in time to catch Jennie rolling herself in her blankets. “So…”
“So…good night?”
“Good night? That’s it?” I chuckle. “Do you wanna, like…talk?”
She picks at her blanket. “Do you?”
“Well, Adam’s not back yet.”
“So you wanna talk?”
“If you wanna talk, we can talk.”
“It sounds like you wanna talk, Garrett.”
I clear my throat, rubbing my nape. “Guess we could talk.”
Jennie grins. “Let me wash up and grab a snack.”
I follow suit, and when Jennie rejoins me, it’s with a bowl of cereal, wearing the hoodie I dressed her in when I last saw her.
“What’s that?” she asks.
I hold up the jar I just dunked my cookie in. “Cookie butter.” I shove the whole thing in my mouth. “Fwom da States. You gotta twy it. I sabe you some.”
Jennie giggles. “Okay, tell me about your night prior to ruining the carpet.”
“We were hanging at the bar with the team. Adam was getting hit on.”
“Just Adam?”
“And Jaxon.”
She waits.
“Okay, me too.” I swipe another cookie through my dip. “So I told the guys I wanted to date, not fuck.”
“Adam’s the only one pure enough to buy that.”
I agree, so I tell Jennie about his dream to one day foster, and she smiles softly through the whole thing before telling me about her day.
“Ollie and I took the pups for a walk, and then she made me make her a tray of brownies before the game. Cara and I yelled at the refs through most of it, and Ollie passed out in my lap during the third period.”
I smile, watching as she lazily wipes away the milk that dribbles down her chin and licks the corner of her mouth. She meets my gaze, smiling back, and I search for something else to say. I guess I’m not ready to say good night. Talking about nothing with her…it’s nice.
“I, uh…told Carter you were my mom.”
Her nose wrinkles. “What?”
“When you sent me that picture,” I clarify. “I couldn’t even talk, and he didn’t see it or anything, but he asked me who I was texting and I…”
Her eyes glitter with her grin. It’s big and cocky, exclusively Beckett. “Said I was your mom.”
“My brain shut off. It almost always does when you’re involved.”
My head snaps as the door beeps, opens partway, and then promptly slams against the swing lock.
“What the fuck?” Adam jiggles the handle, shoving against the lock. “Did you lock me out, you fucker?”
“It was an accident!” I scramble off the bed, pulling my pants up with one hand. I trip for the second time tonight, nearly faceplanting in the mess I made. “Hang on a sec!”
Jennie shakes with laughter, hand clamped over her mouth, and I shoot her a look.
“Night, sunshine,” I whisper.
She winks. “Night, Gare-Bear.”
I shove my phone into my pocket, smooth my hand down my chest for no reason at all, then open the door. Adam stands there, brows high on his forehead, and I’m already coming up with excuses in my head.
Then he steps forward, tumbles into me, and I realize he’s drunk as fuck.
He peels his clothes off on the way. “Can I have some cookies?” He nabs the package and jar off my bedside table, not waiting for a response.
He stops abruptly, gaze falling to the ruined carpet. The tips of my ears burn.
I scratch my neck as Adam stares at me. “Uh, that’s…I was…well, see, I was—”
“I don’t even wanna know.” He wobbles by, shaking my cookie butter in my face. “This is mine now, ’cause I’m not gonna tell anyone about that. Deal?”
Fucking deal.
CHAPTER 15
IT’S A NO FROM ME
JENNIE
“I think it’s a fantastic idea.”
“I don’t.” In my head, my response sounds more like, You’re delusional like always, turd muncher.
Mikhail pulls a frowny face. “And why not? Simon just said he’s on board.”
Simon’s always on board; that’s part of the issue.
And being on board about the two of us posing as a couple in love to really sell the performance? I’d rather submerge myself in a shark tank during shark week—mine, not the Discovery Channel’s.
“I’m not comfortable with it,” I tell my dance coach honestly. “I don’t like lying.”
“It’s called acting, Jennifer.”
He slings one arm around my shoulders, the other around Simon’s, and starts walking us forward. I have no idea where we’re going, and if I had to guess, neither does Mikhail. He’s all about dramatic conversations, which usually means a lot of aimless wandering, staring at nothing but pretending you’re seeing his vision, and clapping out syllables.