Page 8 of A Hurt So Good

“You don’t need my permission, Arya.” Fuck me, the way he says my name sends a chill down my spine.

“I … okay. I mean, I didn’t want to come home late and disturb you,” I tell him.

“Trust me, you wouldn’t be disturbing me.” Jesus. Can this man be any more sexual? Even from here, I can see the glisten in his eyes. I smile back at him and quickly walk inside and up the stairs to my room. I walk inside and lock the door behind me, although I highly doubt that would keep him out.

Walking to my oversized closet, I pull the door open and step inside. Mom made it a point to buy me a ton of ridiculously priced clothes as well as some of her work. I run my fingers alongthe clothes, but there’s nothing I want to wear, so I opt for my cut-offs and a tank top.

I change quickly and pull my hair up on top of my head in a messy bun before adding some eyeliner. My blue eyes pop with the dark liner around them, and I find myself smiling in the mirror.

Grabbing my cell and keys to the car mom left for me, I head out of my room.

“Is that what you’re wearing?” I immediately stop when I hear Jarrod’s voice. I turn to look at him, then at my clothes, and back to him once more as I furrow my brows.

“What’s wrong with this?” I ask, not sure what’s wrong with it. Jarrod doesn’t speak as he stalks toward me slowly. When he’s within reach, he runs his finger under the hem of my short shorts. I suck in a breath at the feel of his hands on my flesh.

“These are really short,” he says softly, his face too close to my skin. He’s bent over, his lips near my arm. I can feel his breath as it dances over my arm.

“That’s the point.”

“Of what? Attracting men?” He slips his finger further up under my shorts, and I gasp.

“It’s … hot,” I manage to get out. He turns his head and looks up at me with those dark brown eyes and I nearly lose myself. Then his fingers move further, sliding under my panties. The feel of his fingers stirs a need in me. Fuck, I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be letting him do this, but he feels too damn good touching me. Jarrod looks me in the eye before murmuring, “Spread your legs.” I do as I’m told and spread my legs for him.His finger sinks inside me, and I nearly come from just the contact. Slowly, he glides it in and out, and I feel like I’m on fire.

He keeps fingering me until I’m panting and needing more. Then he pulls his finger free and finds my clit. Like it was the fucking magic button to my orgasm, just one little touch is all I needed. I come, my knees locking up as he circles my clit slowly. My body trembles as he wraps his free arm around me to hold me in place as I calm myself down.

“You’re right. It is hot, but maybe I should send some security out with you,” he says, pulling away from me completely. My insides tremble as I look at the man who made me come, barely touching me.

“I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“Why is that? Plan on finding a man tonight?” he asks, his eyes full of questions. I shake my head slowly before I find a way to answer him.

“No. In fact, I don’t plan on finding one any time soon after the last one,” I admit. He nods his head, a smile crawling across his face as if my answer satisfies him.

“Good. Smart girl,” he says before turning and heading back to his room. I watch him go, bringing his fingers to his lips and licking them as I watch until he goes in and closes the door behind him.

I release a big breath before turning and rushing down the steps and out the front door. I don’t know if I could handle another second of him without stripping and fucking him. I’m not a whore, but I’m certainly not a prude either.

Once I’m in the car, I enter the address into my GPS and drive out of the driveway. I turn onto the main road and follow the directions as I listen to rock music blasting through the speakers.

The drive is nice. Not hearing my mom is nicer. Being out of the house? The best. Not that I don’t enjoy it there, I’ve only been there a few days, but it can get boring when it’s only me at home.

When I arrive at the bar, I remember I’m not twenty one yet. I wonder if that makes a difference. I know places back home don’t care or ID you. Maybe this is one of those places.

I find a place to park in the packed parking lot before I climb out, grabbing my purse as I go. A man greets me at the door of the bar.

“Id?”

“I don’t have it with me,” I tell him. He eyes me up and down, taking me in just like Jarrod did. His lips pull into a smile before he nods his head.

“Next time, bring it with you. Go ahead,” he says, nodding toward the door. I smile at him and mouth ‘thank you’ before stepping inside. It’s loud, from the music playing and people talking and laughing. I glance around to get a feel for the place. The bar is in the center of the room with tables and a patio on one side, and the other has a dancefloor. I smile as I walk around looking for Cale.

When I don’t spot him, I spin around, about to leave, when a head full of blond hair catches my eye. I lean around the people in front of me and check to see if it’s him. When I step out onto the patio, he turns his head, a smile on his face. He says something to his friends before turning and walking toward me.

“You came.”

“I did. Did you doubt me?” I ask him teasingly.

“I did a little. I wasn’t sure if you’d come or not.”

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