Inked on Paper (19 page)

Chapter Thirty-Four

Jake

Sex.

It was what the moment called for.

And since I wasn’t having any tonight, I figured what the hell. Might as well get it out there.

Still, I couldn’t help but think about Presley and me as Kora and Donovan. It was one of those fantasies that I was about to put on paper, and my dick was hard just thinking about it.

Grabbing my pen, I closed my eyes momentarily, putting myself into the scene, then started to write.

Kora wasn’t sure how they’d gotten to this point so quickly, but she didn’t really give a shit, either. The only thing she cared about was feeling Donovan. In the span of a few minutes, he’d already made her body burn hotter than anything she’d ever felt before. She was to the point that the ache between her thighs hurt, longing to feel him inside her, filling her. She needed him. And she needed him now.

After rolling the condom over his thick, heavy cock, Kora sucked in a breath, desperate and aching. He was big, bigger than she’d expected. Definitely bigger than Sam had been, which both thrilled and terrified her in equal measure.

“You sure about this?” he asked again.

Seriously, how many times was he going to make her tell him this was exactly what she wanted? Rather than answer him, she reached between them, then guided his erection toward her entrance, hissing when the blunt head pressed against her wet sex.

“Donovan,” she whispered. “Please.”

I stopped writing for a second in an attempt to gather myself. I was getting lost in the moment and knew I shouldn’t fight it, but I couldn’t help myself. I couldn’t get Presley out of my mind. She was next door, probably lying in her bed. Was she thinking about me? Thinking about all the things I could be doing to her right now?

She was so fucking close, yet it felt like she was a million miles away.

I seriously had to get my head out of the clouds. This book needed my attention and these characters were waiting.

I knew from experience the thoughts would go once I started the sex scene. These were always the easiest for me. The words would come rapidly and little editing would be done. That would come later, when I went over it again, tweaked it for maximum impact.

Flexing my fingers, I reviewed the last paragraph, then put my pen to the paper.

Thankfully, Donovan took it from there, his hand sliding beneath her thigh, lifting her leg against his hip as he gripped himself, aligning their bodies perfectly. He’d been teasing her ruthlessly since they’d stepped into that closet, and now, the only thing she wanted was to be filled by him.

“Hold on to me, Kora,” Donovan instructed, his voice loud in the small space.

Kora slid her arms around his neck, holding him tight as he brought their bodies together, pushing inside, filling her, stretching her, making her moan.

“Kora,” he growled against her ear, a needy sound that matched what she was feeling. “Fuck, baby.”

She wasn’t sure why he was using terms of endearment; this was a one-time thing and she was more than willing to let him send her into hyperspace, but she could do without the needless chatter.

“Fuck me,” she insisted, tightening her hold around his neck, taking him deeper as his fingers dug into her thigh. “Hard.”

Donovan muttered something, but then he thrust his hips forward, slamming into her, filling her completely.

Kora sucked in a breath, blinded by the sudden bite of pain that quickly dissipated, morphing into incredible pleasure. It was too much and not enough—all coalescing into a turbulent storm that she was eager to drown in.

“Don’t let go, Kora,” he demanded, and Kora realized her arms had slipped from around his neck. “Hold on tight.”

Needing him to give her more than he was, Kora dug her fingers into his shoulders, pressed her back against the wall, and rolled her hips, changing the angle, allowing him to slide deep, then withdraw. In, out. Slow, gentle.

Shit. He was driving her out of her mind. She wanted him to fuck her, to make her come. This … whatever he was doing was too intense.

“Faster,” she encouraged, trying to ride him, thrusting her hips forward to meet his.

“Not gonna happen,” he said. “Not yet.”

Kora pulled back, staring into those emerald depths. For the first time, she noticed the passion burning in his gaze. It matched his words from earlier, and she knew he wasn’t going to make this fast and dirty.

Well, dirty, maybe, because he chose that moment to start mumbling words in her ear, one hand cupping the back of her head, the other beneath her thigh as he rocked his hips forward, back.

“So fucking tight, Kora. Your pussy feels so fucking good.”

His words caused her inner muscles to clench.

“That’s it, baby. Milk my cock. Take all of me, Kora.”

Her body tingled in places she hadn’t known could tingle.

Donovan lifted her leg higher, changing the angle once again. This time, he pulled back, putting a small amount of space between their upper bodies, allowing them both to look down to where they were joined.

His cock slid out, her juices glistening along his length in the dim yellow light. His hips rocked forward and he was inside her again, sucking more air from her lungs. God, he was so big, so thick … it was overwhelming. In the best possible way.

And suddenly, she never wanted it to end.

I needed a minute to switch points of view. Had to get inside Donovan’s head in order to get through this. As it was, I liked the interaction between them, the connection that was there, even if it shouldn’t be.

Donovan was sweating. Partially due to the lack of air flow in the small storage room, but mostly from the effort it required to hold back. He’d known the moment he was
buried
sheathed inside Kora’s sweet body that he’d been right.

Once … probably wasn’t going to be enough.

Goddamn. Donovan groaned. Fuck, she was tight. Her walls gripped him.

And now, as he watched his dick slide into her warm body, feeling her clasping him, milking him, pulling him deeper… It took a fuck-load of determination not to come like this was his first goddamn time.

He groaned when her muscles tightened around him. He wasn’t going to be able to go slow for much longer. He wanted to slam into her, to nail her to the wall, to make her beg him to send her over. As it was, those moans were sexy as hell, but if they weren’t careful, someone was going to hear them.

Not that he gave a shit right then. The only thing he cared about was the warm grip her pussy had on him.

“Need more, Donovan.”

He knew when to give in and now was that time. It was inevitable. It felt too good and the last thing he needed was to come before she did. Widening his stance and lifting Kora’s leg higher, he opened her wider as he glided his dick into her silky warmth once more. Without fail, his hips began a rhythm of their own, faster, harder, deeper. Donovan fucked her, his mind numb from the pleasure, his body soaring as Kora’s nails bit into his shoulders, her breathy moans filling his ears.

“Oh, God.” Kora gasped. “Donovan, oh, fuck. I’m … gonna…”

“That’s it, baby,” he said, pounding into her, harder, deeper. “Come for me, Kora. Come all over my cock.”

When her face contorted, Donovan slammed his mouth over hers, stealing her cry as her body convulsed, her pussy clamping down on him hard, drawing his release from him. He managed to stifle his own roar as he kissed her, a furious mating of tongues and teeth that didn’t hold a candle to the ecstasy that her body had wrought from him.

And before his heart rate had resumed a normal pace, before his lungs were replenished with oxygen, Donovan knew…

Once definitely wasn’t enough.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Jake

I wasn’t sure how I’d managed to sleep at all. After that brief text—or maybe it should be classified as
sext
—conversation with Presley, I’d been more worked up than ever. To the point that I’d had no choice but to take a shower myself. One that involved my soapy hand stroking my dick until I couldn’t take it anymore.

When that wasn’t enough, I’d gone to my office, picked up my pen, and started writing. It wasn’t surprising that a sex scene had emerged. That sometimes happened when I had a lot of pent up ... sexual energy.

That had been five hours ago, yet I was wide awake and ready to start the day as I made my way around the corner to the coffee shop. I’d thought about waiting for Presley, but decided not to make her feel rushed. I figured I’d order her coffee and wait for her instead.

Kim was inside wiping down one of the tables when I arrived, smiling at me when I stepped inside.

“Wow. You’re here early. Problems sleeping?”

I followed her toward the counter, inhaling the scent of fresh pastries and coffee.

“Something like that,” I told her. More like I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about a particular gray-eyed woman who’d made my blood pressure soar to dangerous levels.

“The usual?” Kim asked, her eyes sliding past me toward the door, a knowing grin forming on her face.

I turned in time to see Presley coming in. I smiled at her and she gifted me with a sweet smile in return.

“Yeah,” I told Kim. “Plus a sugar-free vanilla soy latte.”

“Coming right up,” Kim announced after greeting Presley and taking my credit card.

Once I’d paid, I turned to see Presley standing beside me.

She was wearing dark skinny jeans and Uggs this morning, along with a white cashmere sweater that set off her eyes and hair. Gone was the hood, which allowed me to once again see how incredibly beautiful she was.

“Morning,” I greeted.

“Hi.”

Kim passed over the drinks, then told me she’d bring my scone. I took both cups, then nodded toward one of the tables.

“Get any writing done last night?” Presley asked, her cheeks pink.

“As a matter of fact, I did,” I told her honestly. “I had to do something to keep from thinking about … well, you know.” I laughed when the blush on her cheeks deepened and her eyes slid over to Kim. “What about you?” I asked. “Any inspiration?”

“Yes.” Presley’s husky voice held a teasing note. “But not to draw.”

God, I wanted to get my hands on this girl again. And I was pretty sure she knew that.

“Did the roommate keep it down?”

“Eventually,” she said, smiling up at Kim when the woman delivered my scone. When Presley’s eyes met mine again, she seemed to relax somewhat.

“Is Gavin that loud?”

Presley shook her head. “No, thank God. But what’s even better, Gav doesn’t have overnight guests. He either goes to their place or sends them home before he goes to sleep.”

I definitely wasn’t about to tell her that I could relate. Asking a woman to stay the night only invited trouble, though I’d done it on more than one occasion.

“So, tell me about the book you’re writing.”

“What do you want to know?”

She shrugged.

“Okay.” I sipped my coffee. “Let’s see. It’s about this woman and this man.”

Her eyes lit up. “You don’t say.”

“I know, right? Unexpected.”

Presley laughed. “Is that how you came up with the title?”

“Actually, no,” I admitted, my gaze dropping to my coffee, then slowly lifting back to her. “I hadn’t even given any thought to it. When that anchor asked me about it, it just came to me.”

“How?” She looked genuinely curious.

Putting myself out there wasn’t usually how I handled things, but for some reason I knew I needed to. “I thought about you,” I told her honestly, pausing to gauge her reaction.

Her eyes widened, as though she didn’t believe me. “Seriously? Don’t fuck with me.”

A rough laugh escaped me. “No fucking, I promise.”

It was the truth. I’d thought about Presley and how her appearance in my world had been unexpected. As though the timing had been perfect, which, coincidentally was the same thing that had happened to Kora and Donovan.

“So, is it hot?” Her cheeks reddened again.

I leaned in. “What do you think?”

“I think you don’t know any other way to write.”

“You’re probably right about that.”

“What made you want to be an author?” she questioned, sipping her coffee and leaning back in her chair.

Though this was the same question I’d received a million times, I didn’t quite know how to answer it. The bottled response didn’t seem appropriate. “I’ve always had this thing for writing,” I told her. “Since I was a kid, I’ve had this crazy vivid imagination. I think it started when I was a teenager. I started off by writing stories about my life.”

“Fiction?”

I nodded. “I would spend hours imagining my world different than it was.” I noticed the concern in her gaze, so I clarified. “Not because it was bad. I wasn’t trying to escape my reality. I simply wondered what it would be like in different scenarios.”

“So, when you say teenager … I assume you’d hit puberty?” Her smile lit up her eyes.

“Because of the sex?” I asked.

Presley nodded.

“I didn’t always write about sex.”

“But you’re so good at it.”

I could tell by the way her eyes widened that she hadn’t meant to say that. I found it adorable.

“You think?”

“Are you fishing for compliments, Chapter One?” she teased.

“Maybe.”

“Well, since I only have a brief experience on how your sex scenes compare to the real deal…”

“We can certainly fix that,” I told her quickly.

“I’m sure we can.”

I suddenly wanted to take her back to my place and never let her leave.

She stared at me, and I could sense she wanted to ask a question, something she obviously didn’t feel comfortable with. “What is it?”

Presley shook her head. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s something.” I knew it was.

“Okay, fine.” Presley wrapped both hands around her cup and stared intently at the table.

I waited, curious.

“Do you really believe in happily ever after?” Her eyes lifted to mine. “I mean, everything you write has this rapid acceleration to the happy ending, and the result is everything tied up in a pretty little bow. Do you really believe in that?”

That was a question I’d never received before, and I wasn’t sure she was asking me, Jacob Wild, the author. I think she wanted to know whether or not I personally believed in it.

“I’ve never really thought about it,” I lied. I’d thought about it plenty. And no, I didn’t necessarily believe in happily ever after, but I didn’t discount it, either. Just because I hadn’t experienced it didn’t mean it couldn’t happen.

“You said your mom was married nine times. Doesn’t that seem weird? Yet you write about love and happiness.”

“Nothing’s perfect,” I told her.

“In your books it is.”

“That’s fiction, Presley.” I wasn’t sure where she was going with this.

“My point exactly,” she said with a huff.

I cocked my head to the side and studied her. “Is something wrong?”

Presley shook her head. “No. Sorry. Just ignore me.”

I reached out and touched her hand. “I don’t want to ignore you.” Her eyes met mine. “Have you ever been in love?”

That cute crease in her forehead returned. “No. And I’ve never thought I was.”

Her response was too quick for me to believe her. Someone had hurt this girl. Whether she’d thought it was love or not, her heart had been broken. “Not ever?”

“No.”

She seemed quite adamant about that, so I didn’t push. “Okay.”

“Have you?”

I didn’t even have to think about that. “Yeah. Once.”

Presley frowned and I knew that wasn’t the answer she’d expected.

“Who was she?”

I honestly didn’t want to get into this. “Just a girl I once dated.”

“But you’re obviously not in love now, right?”

“No. That was a long time ago.”

“And no happily ever after.” It wasn’t a question.

I watched her for a minute, rehashing this conversation in my head. I didn’t know what had happened between last night and today that made her veer off on this, but I was curious as to why she was worried about it. “That doesn’t mean it’s not possible. You don’t think so?”

“No,” she said, her admission sounding oddly final.

I had nothing to say to that. It wasn’t like I wanted to sit here and convince her otherwise. I liked this girl, but I didn’t know what would happen tomorrow or the next day. Did I want to see more of her? Absolutely. Was that simply because I was physically attracted to her? I didn’t think so, but I couldn’t be sure.

Knowing we would only be talking in circles, I decided to change the subject when she started looking around the coffee shop, appearing uncomfortable.

“So what do you do on Fridays?” I asked.

“Sleep, then I go to the shop.”

“But you’re not today?”

Presley shrugged.

I glanced down at the pink sketchbook. “Because of the lack of inspiration?”

“Something like that.”

“Can I look?” I asked, nodding down at the book.

Presley slid the sketchbook over, surprising me. While she picked up her coffee, I opened the book, smiling when I saw the tic-tac-toe boards that covered several pages, including the inside of the front cover. I kept flipping, pausing to stare at the picture she’d drawn of my character. It really was exactly how I’d envisioned her.

I flipped to the next page and stopped.

“Shit,” Presley muttered, trying to grab the book from my hand.

“Nope,” I said, pulling it back and grinning. “You said I could look.” Glancing down at the page once more, I laughed. “You were drawing me.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“That’s me,” I said, pointing to the picture as I leveled my gaze at her.

“Whatever,” she said, laughing.

It was a damn good resemblance of me, in fact.

I liked that she’d drawn me; it meant she’d been thinking about me.

“I’ve got an idea,” I told her. “Let’s go somewhere today.”

“Where?” Her forehead creased and she sipped her coffee, staring at me over the cup.

I thought about that for a moment. “I’ll take you to my favorite place in the city and you can take me to yours.”

Her smile lit up her face. “I hope you’re not planning to take me to a strip club, Jacob Wild.”

Laughing, I shook my head. “Definitely not my favorite place. Although I’m sure there’s at least one in my top ten.”

Her smile widened and this time it touched her eyes.

“Then what is?” she questioned.

“Finish your coffee and I’ll show you.”