“Oh, God,” Jet groans, his fingers biting into the meat of my hips, making me swallow my laugh on a moan.
“Did you like that?” I ask, feeling him grow even harder inside me.
“Yes.”
I see the low light glimmer in the gold hoop at his nipple, drawing my attention and my hand. I reach for it, tugging gently. I hear his hiss, I feel his pulse as he grinds my hips onto his.
Leaning down, I flick his nipple ring with my tongue as I tease the other one with my fingers, pulling and nibbling, reveling in the way Jet reacts. It makes me feel sexy and powerful and wanted.
He increases his tempo and I straighten, moving harder and harder on top of him. I feel his fingers back between us, playing with me, torturing me, until I feel like I’m losing my mind.
All at once, Jet sucks my nipple hard into his mouth, holds me tight and flexes his hips, driving his body deeper into me than I thought possible. I move on him, crying his name.
“God, yes,” he moans, “ride me. Take every inch of it. Come all over me.”
Sliding up on him, I fall back down hard, another orgasm tearing through me like a runaway freight train.
Jet holds me down on him, grinding his hips up into mine, increasing the friction and driving me wild. I feel him stiffen a fraction of a second before I feel the first throb. Jet wraps me tighter and jams his body into mine once, twice, and then for a third time, holding me against him as he gives in to his own release.
THIRTY-FOUR: Jet
I’m in the floor, flat on my back, staring at the ceiling. Violet is stretched out on top of me, having collapsed onto my chest after we both came. Neither of us are ready to move yet.
I don’t know if it was all the anticipation or the fact that she was a little hard to get, or if it’s because I haven’t had sex in a few weeks, but that shit rocked me. You’d think after amazing sex with a hot woman, I’d be feeling sublime. And I am—mostly.
Part of me is pissed, though. Pissed at myself, for what I’ve done and the pretenses under which I’ve done them. Again, I’m reminded that Violet would hate me—even more so now—if she knew what I’m capable of.
When she finally stirs, leaning up to look down at me, her flowery-smelling hair falls to one side, tickling my face. Her eyes are soft and dreamy, her lips are slightly curved. She looks happy. Satisfied.
I smile up at her, running my palms down the smooth skin of her back and over the round globes of her ass.
“That was incredible,” I tell her.
She smiles and her cheeks take on that rosy hue I love to see. “Really?”
“You didn’t think so?”
“Well, yeah. I thought it was awesome, but . . .”
“But what?”
She shrugs one shoulder. “I didn’t know how it would seem to you. I mean, it’s been a while for me.”
“It has for me, too.”
As I watch, like clouds rolling in over a turbulent sea, her eyes darken and her expression sobers. She doesn’t say anything, just closes her eyes and leans her forehead against my chin. I reach up to stroke the silky hair at the back of her head.
“What’s the matter?”
She waits for a couple of really long, uncomfortable minutes before she speaks. And when she does, she looks up at me with tears in her eyes.
“This was so selfish of me.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“You needed my help, and this is what I give you. A setback.”
“This is not a setback, Violet. This was . . . different.”
She rolls off me and stands, holding her hands to either side of her head. “Oh God, what have I done? What have I done?” she says quietly, over and over.
I get up, walking to where she’s pacing, and I stop her, taking her face in my hands.
“You haven’t done anything. We did this together. We’re both consenting adults. We both know the score.”
Words that were meant to calm her only seem to worsen whatever bullshit guilt she’s feeling.
“No, we don’t. You don’t know the score,” she groans, turning away from me. There is misery in her voice, and I have no idea why.
“Of course I do. We both wanted this, Violet.”
“Yes, but you . . . you . . . of course you wanted it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She finally turns back to face me. Her eyes are as miserable as her voice. She’s torturing herself over something.
“Jet, there’s something I have to tell you,” she begins, wringing her hands.
“What is it? You can tell me anything.”
Her chin trembles at my words and she looks up at the ceiling. “Oh, God! Please don’t be so nice. I don’t deserve it.”
“Violet, you’re being ridiculous. Of course you deserve someone to be nice to you.”
She squeezes her eyes shut, like it hurts to look at me. “Jet, I’m not a sex addict,” she mumbles. Her voice is so low and quiet, I’m not sure I heard her correctly.
“Say that again.”
When she opens her eyes and they meet mine, they are shiny pools of tears and anguish. “I’m not a sex addict.”
I shake my head, trying to understand what she might mean by that. “What? What are you talking about?”
“I went there for Tia. She’s my best friend, not just someone I sort of sponsored. She has a problem, but she doesn’t think so. She would never go unless I went, and she was getting ready to lose the trust of a really good man. So I went to support her. Only she never showed up that first time.”
I take a step away, my mind scrambling to catch up. “So you lied about being a sex addict?”
She nods once. “I didn’t want to just . . . just . . . leave, so I stood up and said the same thing everyone else was saying.”
“So all the . . . everything you said . . .”
“Was a lie.”
It’s hypocritical as hell for me of all people to be pissed off by her confession, but I am. All this time, I’d thought . . .
“Why didn’t you just tell me?” I ask, feeling betrayed, which is a load of shit.
“I didn’t want to hurt you. I didn’t want you to feel like the one place you went for help, the place that should be a sanctuary, was anything less than that. I knew how damaging it would be if anyone ever found out. I swear I didn’t do it maliciously. I was just trying to help my friend.”
“And were you trying to help her when you made up that crap about being a sponsor?”