Page 91 of Crimson Desires

I could feel his erection grind against my thigh. I shifted my thigh into it, offering Jack some more friction to work with.

He gasped.

I smiled devilishly at him, rubbing his dick through his jeans with my leg. His eyes glazed over with pleasure, and his breathing deepened.

After a moment, Jack hooked his fingers into the waistband of my shorts and panties and pulled them off.

A moment of panic passed through me. Jack’s bandmates could walk through those doors at any moment and catch us. Yet, somehow, the fear of being walked in on thrilled me. I didn’t even think that it was possible for me to be so aroused by such a terrifying thought.

Jack ran his fingers over my pussy. I arched my back, desperate. Desperate for what, exactly? For him to touch my clit? For him to sink those fingers into my cunt and fuck me? I didn’t know—I just knew that I wanted more of him.

I whined as Jack began to tease my clit between his thumb and index.

“You sound so good, flower girl,” Jack purred. “I want to record you when we fuck so that I can put those beautiful sounds you make in a song of mine. That way, every time I listen to it, I can hear your pretty little moans in my ears.”

I nearly came right then and there.

“God, Jack, just fuck me already,” I pleaded.

“Mm, patience.”

Jack continued touching my clit—enough to keep me aroused, but not enough to take me anywhere near the cliff of orgasm. The balancing act was enough to drive me mad. I tried to grind my clit harder against his hand, but he just laughed and pulled his hand away entirely.

I’m sure he would’ve teased me until I was a puddle on the studio floor, but even Jack had to be conscious of the fact that we were operating under a time limit.

Jack slipped a condom out of his pocket before taking off his pants. He unrolled the condom onto his cock and stroked it to full hardness. Heat pooled in my belly. I yearned to feel that hardness in me—to feel Jack filling me completely.

Jack eased himself between my legs, slapping his cock gently against my pussy and sending little shocks of pleasure up my spine. I stared at him, taking in his gorgeous body. His strong muscles, his toned abdomen, and his perfect thighs.

Then, in one smooth motion, he angled his cock toward my entrance and thrust inside.

We moaned in tandem as he began to pump his cock into me. His thumb made its way to my clit and began circling it roughly, making my legs shake with overwhelming ecstasy.

Jack kissed me, forcing me to moan into his mouth as he slowly took me to the point of no return.

I squeezed my eyes shut and wrapped my legs tightly around Jack’s waist, every sensation compounding against the last. The only thing I could hear in the soundproofed studio was Jack’s hips slapping against mine, the labored moans escaping our throats, and the sound of my own blood rushing in my ears.

Suddenly, the steel string in my core that Jack had wound tighter and tighter snapped—and I came. Jack thrust into me a few more times, his abs flexing as he hit his own climax. Then, all at once, his muscles loosened.

He held himself up just enough to not squish me as he lay atop my body.

“Fuck, Aster. I love you,” Jack confessed.

I froze. Had he said those words a minute ago, I would have repeated them back, unashamed. But my orgasm brought clarity, and in my sober mind, I did not have the courage to tell Jack that I loved him back.

I did not even have the courage to admit that I did in fact love him. Not to him. Not to myself.

When had fantasy blurred into reality? When had I foolishly allowed myself to slip and do the one fucking thing I’d promised myself that I wouldn’t do? To love Jack Maverick was to skydive without a parachute. To feel the intense exhilaration of free-fall without anything to save you before you crashed into the earth like a human meteor.

I closed my eyes and shook my head, suddenly feeling shamefully naked.

“I’m sorry, Jack. I can’t.”

He didn’t ask me why. He seemed to know intrinsically.

Jack passed me my panties and shorts. He planted a gentle, patient kiss on my hip bone.

“That’s okay, Aster. You don’t have to say it back yet,” Jack said. He threw away his condom, hiding it beneath the crumpled bag that carried his takeout. He gestured for me to follow him back to the mixing room.

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