Page 117 of Jerk
“What’re you doing?” When I try to push Rye’s hand away, the cold metal of the scissors dips into my thigh, heat rising in my chest. He’s not trying to ruin this, I know that now. I trust him.
So then whatishe trying to do?
Music begins, bass thumping against the pool house glass window. Marisol takes her first step onto the transparent runway, a bouquet of white roses in her hand.
“Sorry, Kitten, something doesn’t sit right knowing all these people get to see what’s mine.”
I can't keep track of any imperfections people might see on my models. I thought I’d watch the crowd’s response, but I’m more focused on where Rye’s hands are.
A shiver rolls through me as cold metal lands against the delicate lace of my outfit. He teases me with the dull edge,pressing it against my clit. My mouth falls open with a gasp, the coldness blending with the heat swirling inside me.
“What you’re wearing is beautiful,” he says. “But, I’m getting the most out of it. Not them."
I’m quick enough to tug the scissors out of his hand and press the blades against his chest. “Ruin this outfit and I’ll be the next one to commit a homicide.”
“That's dark, Kitten." Rye smirks, his eyes falling to where the blades meet his chest. “Careful. Blades aremything. You sure you know what you’re doing?”
“Think I’m too dainty to wield a blade?” He keeps his eyes on the scissors as I drag the blades down his chest. I stop when it lands right above his belt. Then, I place the fabric of his silk shirt between the blades.
He still doesn’t move, and it feels like a ticking time bomb. “Don’t mess with what’s mine unless you mean it.”
“Oh, you know I mean it.” The scissors slice through the fabric, all the way up to his collar. The fabric falls to the side, revealing that glimmering, muscular chest. My bottom lip disappears behind my teeth, a moment of silence overtaking us as the bass thumps on.
"That's enough," he growls.
The bomb detonates.
Rye’s hand goes to my wrist, spinning me around as the blades come to my throat. His fingers part my lips, my tits against the cold glass. I try to focus on the fashion show with the heat of his bare chest pressed to my back. Marisol’s taking the stage now, all eyes on her skirt and halter made out of red leather harnesses.
“See that, Kitten?” My eyes blur when he strokes my slick clit, a soft moan escaping me. “They’re here for you.” His fingers leave me before I hear his pants fall to the floor behind me. The soft tip of his cock pushes between my legs. “But you’re stillmine.” My legs part further for him, and it’s easy for him to enter me. My eyes roll back in my head when he does, a feeling of sweet bliss overtaking me. “You’ll be out there soon, and when you do, I want you to wear me.”
"Rye," I moan, my breath fogging the glass. I brace my hand against it as he bottoms out inside me, forcing a deep inhale in my lungs. "God, you feel so good!” He pulls out again, pounding into me. Then again. He dominates my body like he wants to prove how much I belong to him. “You feel fucking incredible! Don't you fucking stop!"
I don’t care what’s happening on stage as he brings the tip of the scissors to my lips. His pace picks up, making me tremble for him, making me feel like nothing else matters. The clothes could burn. Chloe could fall off that stage. I don't give a fuck, I could die happy just like this.
“Kitten, I need you to be quiet,” he groans, not at all helping. “Don’t ruin your moment.”
Stars appear in my eyes as Ember takes the stage next. The piece before the finale. An intricate lace corset with voluminous vintage sleeves attached. Once she reaches the end, Mac and Gray appear next in lace boxers, skulls stitched into them. I don’t know what Rye offered them to join the runway, but the fit is exquisite.
This should feel wrong, watching my friends showcase my pieces while my boyfriend buries himself deep inside me. But I don’t care. This feels too good to care.
“Holy fuck,” I sigh. Folding my lips, I try to keep it down as I watch them float the casket in front of the stage, steadying it.
“It’s okay, Hannah.” Rye’s words come to my ear, a fire building inside me. He moves his hips in that deadly rhythm that makes me lose all grasp of life. All sense of reality. “Let it go. You got this. You can let go.” He grips my waist as I fall against the glass, my walls clamping around his throbbing cock.
“Oh god,” I gasp, as he takes my all, that frantic pace bringing me right to the edge. “Oh fucking god!” My cheek falls against the glass as I shatter against him. “Fuck!” A loud cry escapes me as the world around me brightens.
He pulls my hair, and I don’t even care that he messes it up. He rubs his cock against my clit in a way that makes my knees feel like jelly. In a way that makes my orgasm feel like it lasts a thousand hours.
The world shakes as Gray and Mac open the casket, causing another audible gasp from the crowd. Krystal rises out, just as her brother releases himself into my panties.
The crowd bursts into applause as earth and space collide. I can't imagine tiring of the way I make Rye lose control. Not even on my big night.
“Get it together, Hannah.” Rye’s voice lands in my ear. “It’s time to take your place.” Then my eyes widen as the world rushes back.
Rye pulls up my panties before the warmth of his release presses into my skin. It’s my cue, but I’m frozen, my cheeks burning before he turns me to face him. Then he kisses me, a wave of nirvana spreading through me.
“Go on,” he whispers against my lips. “Steal the show.”
