Aidan (2 page)

If I think that’s going to deter her, I’m mistaken. “So did I. Which way to your place? I haven’t done much housekeeping lately, and frankly, I’d like some clean sheets for a change.”

This is turning into one of the most interesting nights I’ve had in a long time, so I just go with it. Tossing an arm over her shoulders, I point her in the direction of my house and nudge her forward. “What makes you think I have clean sheets or that you’ll even make it to my bed?”

I expect her to toss some kind of insult at me. But without missing a beat, she says, “I figure I’ll suck your dick against the wall as soon as we get there. Then we’ll move on to the bedroom. You’ll eat my pussy while you recover and then you’ll fuck me. Probably from behind because I think you’re an ass man.”

Holy shit!
Kara Jacks is a full-on, dirty-talking badass, and I’m going to fuck her so hard she’ll still be feeling it next week. Even though I’m doing nothing but thinking of my cock in her mouth, I still manage to keep my voice level as I say, “Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out. You do this kind of thing every night?” I have no clue why that thought bothers me, but it does. I don’t want to be just one in a long line of men she’s fucked while she’s here. This whole thing is messing with my head, so I do what I’m good at—I shut it down. Fucking doesn’t require thinking. For most men, it’s as natural as breathing and can be done on autopilot if needed.

“Do you really care?” she tosses back at me, and my silence hopefully gives her the answer. I apply slight pressure to her shoulders, steering her across the sand to the front door of the house I’m renting. I release her while I pull out the key and open the door. She steps into the dark foyer and stops, obviously waiting for me to flip the light on. Screw that. There’s plenty of time later to see how she looks when she comes. Right now, I’m ready to ensure her words come to life.

With no further preamble, I close the door behind me and unbutton my shorts. The sound of my zipper lowering is like a gunshot in the room. I move until the wall is to my back and then issue my challenge. “Bring that mouth over here, princess, and show me what you’ve got.” I grin as I hear a snort before her hand falls on my chest.

“You’re nothing if not predictable,” she says, and I can almost see her rolling her eyes at me. Her hand begins sliding lower, and my cock twitches as she palms it through my boxer briefs before pushing them down below my hips and releasing my dick. She wraps a hand around the heavy weight, effectively halting its mad bobbing.

My voice sounds a little strained, but I can’t resist teasing her a bit more. “Don’t make me the bad guy here. You were the one begging to suck my cock. I’m just giving you what you want.” She tightens her grip around my dick, and I grit my teeth, trying not to explode. So few women understand that men like a firm hand. Hell, even a little pain. Grab on and show it who’s in charge.

Kara suddenly leans down, and fuck almighty—she goes for it. Her mouth has replaced her hand, and she completely skips the getting to know you phase and goes right to the main event. So many sensations come at me that I can barely process them. Her teeth are scraping against the sensitive skin at the underside of my dick; her tongue flicks the slit as if lapping cream from a bowl, and her hand holds the base in something like a chokehold. I’m sweating bullets and damn near close to crying for my fucking mommy when she moves on. I manage to draw a breath before she sucks me deep into her mouth and swallows around me.
Fuck!
I can’t hold back. The contractions send me over the edge, and before I can stop myself, I’m shooting ribbons of cream down her throat. Normally, I’d at least give a woman fair warning before doing that, but hell, there simply wasn’t time. She takes it all like a freaking porn star and then releases me with a pop. “I’m gonna admit, I saw that lasting longer.” She laughs.

I should be offended at her jab of my control, but fuck it, she’s right. Normally, that would have gone on for a while. I don’t come until I want to. But I’ve never been with a woman who can suck cock like her. Add in the fact she’s not just some random piece of ass, and there you have it, folks—fastest blowjob since my teen years. I couldn’t give a shit, though. I’m not going to complain when I’ve just had the most explosive head of my life. “You’ve got a mouth on you, princess, I’ll give you that,” I admit wryly. I pull my briefs up and kick the shorts that have settled around my ankles to the side. I take her by the arm and navigate the darkness until I reach the lamp in the foyer. I flip the switch, and we both blink for a moment. Instead of leading the way to the bedroom, I push her ahead of me. “Door at the end of the hall.” We both know I just want to stare at her ass. Hell, screw just staring. My hand takes flight, and I deliver a solid smack, loving the way it feels against my palm. Nothing small in that area. It’s firm but still womanly soft. She’s right, I am an ass man, and fucking her from behind is definitely on the agenda for tonight.

“Nice,” she tosses over her shoulder sarcastically but continues to walk. The bedroom is dark when we reach it, and I’m sliding my hand along the wall looking for the light switch when she halts me. “No, leave it off. I don’t want you staring at me and turning this into some weird sex with my cousin encounter.”

I throw my head back, laughing in surprise. “Luc is my best friend. I’ve never thought about making it with his wife.” Her snort fills the room, and yeah, I like her just a little more. Call me an asshole, but other than Cassie, I’m used to women throwing themselves at me. There’s never any talking back in the bedroom. If I spank them, they beg for more. There’s little challenge in a woman you can do no wrong with. I have no doubt that Kara would call me on anything she didn’t like. My manly pride and ego mean less than nothing to her. She’s direct and to the point, so I’ll be the same. “Take your clothes off and get on the bed. Lie on your back and spread your legs. We’ve reached the pussy eating part of the evening.”

“Oh, goody,” she deadpans. The rustling of her clothing lets me know she’s following my directions. Then I hear the sound of the mattress depressing, and I quickly remove the rest of my clothing before finding my way to the bedside table. This shit would be a lot easier if I could actually see, but I’ll respect her wishes . . . for now. I manage to locate a strip of condoms in the drawer and toss them on the bed. “Hey!” she snaps. “Could you not blind me with your gross of latex?”

I laugh once again. This chick seriously needs her ass slapped, and I’ll be more than happy to take care of it. “You wanted the dark, princess,” I remind her. Any sarcastic quip she has is lost as I toss her legs over my shoulders and take my first lick. I’m certain I’ve died and gone to pussy heaven because she tastes like a ripe peach. Her legs wrap around me so tightly, I wonder if I’ll die with my face buried in her wet heat, but I manage to wedge away far enough to draw a breath. Despite her tough demeanor, she’s moaning like a whore in heat as I show no mercy. My tongue, my mouth, and my fingers are everywhere. She comes three times before I finally release her now limp body. I pat her leg, enjoying the sound of her heavy breathing as it fills the room. “Where’s my sarcastic girl at now?” She surprises me by giggling, which goes straight to my cock. “Crawl up on the bed and get on your hands and knees. That ass is mine now.”

My hand falls away as she shifts higher up on the mattress. “Just remember,” she tosses out, “you haven’t been cleared for the second slot, so please go directly to the first one.”

Luckily, my eyes have adjusted to the darkness, and I can see her outline clearly. I put a knee on the bed and move up behind her. My hand settles on one firm ass cheek, and I rub it for a second before delivering a sharp smack. She grunts but doesn’t voice an objection.
Good girl.
“I’m surprised you care, princess,” I murmur as I continue to alternate stroking with spanking. “You certainly haven’t been shy so far. Don’t tell me that no man has ever fucked this ass. I find that very hard to believe.”

“If you’re stalling because you need more recovery time, just go ahead and admit it,” she taunts. “You’re getting a little age on you, so it’s completely understandable you wouldn’t be able to er . . . bounce back as fast as you could in your twenties.”

She did not go there.
Insult anything but my cock. I knew I should have insisted on keeping the lights on. Then she would have been aware I’ve yet to go soft. As phenomenal as her blowjob was, my dick stayed hard even after damn near choking her with my cum. Before she can toss out another dig at my manhood, I feel around, find the condoms, and quickly roll one on. I rub the tip of my cock through her wetness and grin as I hear her whimper. I grip her hips on either side and bury myself balls deep in her wet heat. And no surprise, she’s a screamer. I find myself fucking her deeper and harder to see how vocal she can be, and she certainly doesn’t disappoint. My ears are ringing, and I’m afraid the windows will shatter, but I fucking love it. She’s ramming her hips back to meet mine, and we’re going at it like animals. I’m determined to wring her dry before I come. I won’t give the minx a reason to question my stamina. She’d enjoy that too much. “Take it, princess,” I grunt as I slap her ass. I’m damn tempted to bury my finger there, but I’ll let it go—this time.

“OH MY GOD,” she yells loudly enough to wake the dead. “I’m—I’m . . . coming!” As her pussy clamps down even tighter and begins to contract around me, I speed up. I’m holding her in place; otherwise, she’d be across the bed as I give her everything I have. Even without her screeching it out, I count two more orgasms before I finally allow myself to be carried over the edge. I come so hard, dark spots dance in my vision. I just manage to pull out before we both collapse sideways in a tangled, sweaty heap. “You’ve got game, I’ll give you that,” she wheezes out.

I’m strangely pleased by her compliment. I mean it’s not as if I had any doubts, but after her earlier sarcasm, it’s nice to hear her actually admit I’ve impressed her. I have a feeling she doesn’t toss many compliments around where men are concerned. Actually, I’m thinking more and more that she’s the female version of me, which is either downright scary or hot as hell. I’m still trying to decide which. I give her ass a squeeze. “It’s okay to admit I’m the best you’ve ever had, princess. We both know it’s true.”

She jabs me in the side with what feels like a surprisingly bony finger. “You’re so damn cocky.” After releasing a loud yawn, she mumbles, “Now, if you’ll get off me, I need to find my clothes and head home. You’ve worn me out, Ace.”

And here is where things get weird.
“You can crash here for the rest of the night. No need to leave.”
What the hell?
I have no idea why I keep blurting this shit out, even as my inner voice is screaming at me to shut up.

Apparently, I’ve shocked her as well, because the room is quiet for several long moments before she releases a long-suffering sigh. “All right, I’m too tired to argue. I’ll stay since you’ve put yourself out there and I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but we’re not making a habit of this or anything, so don’t be getting any ideas.” She shimmies away from me in the darkness and crawls to the top of the bed. Within seconds, she’s under the covers, and I’m still sitting at the bottom of the bed wondering what happened.

I get to my feet and dispose of the condom in the bathroom before brushing my teeth. I walk back into the bedroom and stand uncertainly. I’m actually tempted to go use one of the spare bedrooms, but I know without a doubt she’ll call me a pussy if I do. I issued the invitation, and I need to man up and honor it. No big deal. I have spent the entire night with a woman before—just not often. Plus, Kara’s kind of like extended family, right? Okay, maybe that wasn’t a good analogy. You don’t usually fuck your family. I release a breath and stalk to the other side of the bed and gingerly climb in. I’m practically hovering on the edge. One mistake and I’ll be on the floor. Surprisingly enough, I’m tired and am on the verge of drifting off almost immediately. When the sound of a snore fills the room, I shake my head and smile. Of all the women in the world I could invite to sleep over, I pick the one who snores like a lumberjack.

I
’m disoriented
when I wake, which isn’t exactly anything new for me. I’ve always been a heavy sleeper, and the medication I’ve taken on and off for the last year makes that worse. Still . . . the feeling of warmth at my back and the heavy weight across my side are certainly new as is the hand holding my breast. Based on the light in the room, I know the sun has been up for a while. I’d guess it’s close to ten in the morning. Of course, that isn’t really the big issue here. I appear to be completely naked, and I have what feels like a hard dick sticking between the crack of my ass. Those two things are a bit more urgent than the placement of the sun.

I turn my head slowly and release the breath I’ve been holding. Memories of the night before flood back, and I take a moment to stare at the man behind me while he’s sleeping. He’s a cocky and conceited ass, but there’s no denying it: Aidan Spencer is drop-dead gorgeous. I feel myself getting wet from just looking at him. He’s tall, dark, and delicious with a body that makes a woman want to throw her pride away and beg him for whatever scraps he’ll give. And last night, he brought his A-game. I might have teased him, but truthfully, he fucked me stupid. I’ve never had it like that before. I was coming before he’d even fully penetrated me with that big cock of his. Heck, one flick of my clit right now and I’d go off just thinking about it. I wanted him again, and I hadn’t allowed myself to double-dip in so very long. It’s easier in my situation not to form attachments.

I’d been shocked to see him last night. I haven’t been feeling particularly social lately, so I’d only been to the outdoor bar a few times. I’d been at a loose end and didn’t feel like another night of staring at the walls. And truthfully, I’d been looking for a distraction. I’ve been staying at Uncle Lee’s for a few weeks, and the solitude I thought I wanted has already become too much. My parents were suffocating me with their concern at home, but I’m no happier here. Truthfully, I have no idea what to do next. I have my business degree, and I’ve always planned to work full time for Uncle Lee. I’ve interned at Falco Industries during summer vacations for years before my world was suddenly tipped on its side.

When you’re twenty-two, you think you’re invincible. I was in my last semester of college, and the only stress in my life at that point was passing my finals. The day my doctor called me and used words like malignant, treatments, and appointments, my blissful world fell apart.
I fell apart.
I’d thanked her and called my dad, delivering the news that following a routine yearly physical, a lump had been found in my breast. The biopsy revealed malignant cancer. My world became a very dark place. That began months of anxiety, depression, and a whole lot of denial. I’d wanted to bury my head in the sand and act like nothing was wrong. Luckily, with my parents, that wasn’t an option. My father had taken charge, and the next morning, we were sitting in the office of the best oncologist in North Carolina. I had Stage 2 breast cancer, which meant the tumor was growing but only found in the breast. Even though I was given the option of a lumpectomy, I chose a mastectomy instead. My father agreed it was a better choice, and I wasn’t really in the state of mind to do the research myself. As a safety precaution, I had radiation five days a week for seven weeks.

Apparently, radiation has fewer side effects than chemotherapy, so I was lucky.
REALLY?
Somehow, I didn’t feel like a lottery winner when I was hugging my toilet and throwing up what little I’d managed to choke down due to the difficulty of swallowing. And the horrible tightness in my chest that never seemed to go away. I would have panic attacks and feel as if I couldn’t draw enough air into my lungs. My doctor said that many of my side effects were a result of the anxiety I was suffering. He put me on antidepressants, which made me into little more than a zombie. It did help with the tightness in my chest, though, and lessened my nausea. The downside? I wanted to do nothing but sleep.

After I finished my treatments, I had reconstruction surgery. After my breast was removed, I could hardly stand to look at myself in the mirror. The puckered scars reminded me every day of what I’d lost. It was impossible to forget I’d had cancer when the empty bra cup reminded me constantly. I had expected a huge wave of relief to fill me with my reconstructed breast, so I resented its foreign feel. It was almost as if I blamed
it
for everything, which was absurd. No one ever said that anything about having cancer was rational. Eventually, I learned to accept it but continued to mourn the loss of the one cut from my body. The scars were minimal thanks to a skilled surgeon, but I could see them because I knew where to look. Anyone else would have to study that breast closely to see the thin silvery lines.

It’s been almost a year since I finished my last round of radiation, yet I haven’t been able to get off the anti-depressants. Even now, when I’m officially in remission and cancer-free, I’m terrified that the anxiety and depression will return should I go off them. Before my cancer, I felt invincible with my whole life ahead of me. Now, I know it can all be taken away in the blink of an eye. Cancer took many things from me, but probably the most shattering was my innocence and the belief that nothing bad could ever happen to me. Even with my medication, I find myself constantly looking ahead and checking for any sign of trouble. A simple case of the sniffles is enough to send me into full-blown panic mode. I will never again assume that a minor illness is nothing. I’ll always be waiting for the other shoe to drop. Or in this case, for the cancer to return. I’m no longer Kara Jacks, daughter of Peter and Charlotte Jacks. Nor am I simply sister to Kyle Jacks. No, first and foremost, at least in my mind, I’m Kara Jacks, cancer
survivor
.

It’s insane the things that went through my head after I completed radiation. I mourned the fact that I could never fill out a health history form without checking the box for cancer. Then having to use the space provided below to explain. Before my diagnosis, I’d loved my ample C-cups. Afterward, I found myself wondering if I was being punished for my vanity in displaying them in low-cut tops. As if dressing more demurely would have kept me from getting cancer.

Again, the word lucky is something I hear far too often.
You’re so lucky you caught it early. You’re so lucky it hasn’t spread. You’re so lucky they got it all.
Then I feel like a fucking ungrateful bitch who doesn’t deserve to be cancer-free because I don’t feel lucky. Am I glad to be alive and in remission? Absolutely. But nowhere in there do I feel fortunate. Instead, I’ve let myself become the victim. Cancer took away my power, and I’ve yet to wrestle it back. That mindset is the reason I’m here now. I love my parents, but I can’t regain my independence while they’re standing over me wringing their hands every time I grimace. I’m feeding their paranoia and in turn, they’re feeding mine. It’s not their fault—far from it. I wouldn’t have gotten through everything that I have without them firmly by my side. Now, it’s time for me to put myself back together again. I need to find the confident, fearless woman I once was and bring her back again.

Amazingly enough, a version of that person made an appearance for the first time in a year last night, and it was almost effortless. I’m no virgin, and I’m no whore. I’ve had sex. I’ve been in casual relationships. I went through a spell after my cancer-free announcement where I felt the need to reaffirm that I was still alive and sex was the way I did it. But it was different with Aidan. Possibly because he’s not just a face in a crowd. We’re not friends, but we’re connected through family. I shocked myself as I joked, taunted, flirted, and propositioned him. It was so easy. He wanted me, and he didn’t bother to hide it. He didn’t see me as broken and flawed. He spanked me, for God’s sake. He was rough, but there were also moments of gentleness that I wouldn’t have expected. I know it’s insane, but he patched a part of me that’s been broken. I’m not naïve enough to say it’s fixed, but neither is it completely cracked open anymore.

For the first time in so long, I liked who I was and could tell he did as well. I don’t think Aidan has been with many women who don’t worship at his feet. I was fun and fearless with him. But how will that translate in the light of the day? Will I crawl back into my shell and retreat to my self-pity-filled existence thus losing what little ground I feel I’ve gained? The very thought fills me with dread and spurs me into action. I’m not ready to find out. I need to get out of here before he wakes up. I want him to remember the Kara from earlier and not the version I’ve allowed myself to become.

It’s no easy feat, but I manage to slip out of his arms and slide to the edge of the bed. Even though my bladder feels as if it’s going to burst, I don’t risk using the bathroom. Instead, I quickly gather my clothes and tiptoe down the hallway. I dress in the foyer before quietly opening the door and stepping outside. The sun is high in the sky and temporarily blinds me as it reflects back from the ocean. I curse under my breath as I realize that my walk of shame is going to be long. I’m not about to go back inside and wake Aidan, though. My newfound confidence is fragile at best, and I plan to cling to it with everything I have. I can’t see Aidan again until I know if last night was just a fluke or if I’ve possibly turned some type of corner. Because either I’ve finally gone crazy or Aidan Spencer fucked me back to life. Dear God, I can only imagine how big his already inflated ego will expand if he ever hears those words.

I roll over in bed and rub a hand over my dry, gritty eyes. I’m normally up shortly after dawn to go for a run on the beach. This morning, I know it’s much later as the room is fully awash in sunlight. Needing another five minutes before I rise, I turn onto my stomach and grab a pillow to tuck under my head. That’s when it hits me. I bolt upright and look around the room. Her scent is all around me, but I know instinctively she’s gone. The house has its usual vacant feeling.

I flop backward and think of the previous night. My cock hardens and the sheet tents as I remember driving into her tight, wet pussy. If she were here now, she’d be riding me while I fucked her into oblivion, but she’s not.
So this is how it feels to be a one-night stand.
Kara seems determined to give me more firsts in twenty-four hours than I’ve had in years. She picked me up, tossed out all kinds of veiled insults about my sexual prowess, and now, she’s taken off without a word.
Fuck, man up, Spencer.
Am I actually lying here wallowing in pity because she didn’t say goodbye? I should be relieved. A sleepover was weird enough, but did I actually want her to hang around the next morning? Maybe have breakfast and spend the day together?
Hell no!
She saved us both some awkwardness. Granted, I wouldn’t be averse to her handling this near painful case of morning wood, but isn’t that a big reason God gave us hands? I toss the pillow containing her scent onto the floor and get up. I make quick work of stripping the sheets and tossing them in the corner with the pillow. I’ll wash them later so I’m not reminded of her tonight.

Even though I call myself all kinds of pussy, I still walk through the house to confirm she is indeed gone, and I try my best to ignore the feeling of disappointment. Shit, maybe it is time to go home. I’m obviously more in need of human contact than I thought. Maybe I’ll email Luc later on to check in. We haven’t been apart this long since we met and it’s doing a number on me. I miss my best friend, and I’m beginning to realize that I’m reaching the point where I need the people I love to complete the healing process.

I shrug off my melancholy and go about my usual morning routine—just a little later than usual. By the time I’ve run five miles, showered, and had lunch, I’m feeling much more like myself. If not for her lingering fragrance, I could almost pretend Kara Jacks never crashed into my world the previous night.
Almost.