Chapter 18

Jamie

Sometimes the peace of sleep was almost sexual. A dark-eyed lover that stroked me softly, forcing every nerve ending to come alive, right as he tugged me down deeper into peace. I sighed as I realised I had to be having a sex dream. What else could explain the rasp of callused fingers around my nipple? The thickened skin on those fingertips forced my areola to pull painfully tight, the resulting pleasure creating pulsing waves of sensation I felt all through my body.

Especially here.

Sex the second time was always a sharper, scratchier thing. It was as if a man left his mark inside me, forcing the skin to become oh-so sensitive, just as I was now. But that didn't make sense. My brows creased, my lips parting as I sucked in a breath, readying myself to wake up. I was swimming up, up out of the darkness, but then he pulled me back down again. A hand between my thighs, a single finger finding my clit, it rolled under his pressure like a marble caught in oil. My hips thrust back and then into his touch, making me aware of this.

I was full, so damn full, my cunt struggling to take all of him, and that was just the way I liked it. Long dicks I couldn't do much with. I'd had a few jackhammer my cervix, as if that would allow them to go deeper, and 10/10, would not recommend, but thick ones? Ones that opened you up, made you feel that stretch, they were just fine. I moved experimentally, feeling the heavy drag of him inside me setting my nerves on fire, and once I started, I couldn't seem to stop. I wanted, needed that sensation of him thrusting into me way too much. He realised that quickly, his hands locking down on my hips as he pushed in deeper.

Yeah, just like that. I mumbled something to that effect, my dream lover taking my cues, thrusting harder, deeper, as that finger began to flick my clit faster. Exactly like that. This had to be a dream, because everything was so perfect. I was hot, sweaty, dimly aware I should be tossing the blankets aside, but unable to when he had me in his grip.

"Jamie…" he rasped, and that made me frown. "Jamie…"

My name was like a lifeline thrown into the darkness, but I didn't want to grab it. Somehow I knew the darkness was perfect and reality was not, that as soon as I opened my eyes, I'd be forced to deal with everything. Couldn't I just stay right here? I thought querulously. In the darkness, in all that black sea of pleasure, with him, my perfect lover, his hand sliding around my throat and tilting my head back so he could kiss me.

It was his beard that made clear what this was. My dream lovers were amorphous shapes, nebulous shadows of pleasure, but this? I felt the prickle of his facial hair against my skin, knowing who this was.

Brock.

The realisation was like a pebble thrown into a calm pond, causing ripples that went out, out until they broke on the edges. I was breaking too, into a million pieces, as the pleasure spiked hard, great lapping waves of it that threatened to drown me entirely.

"That's it. Good girl, coming on my cock. Just like that."

He sounded like my dream lover, coaxing me, coaching me through one shuddering pulse of pleasure, then another. I felt warm, held, blissful, but there was another kind of darkness contained within it. Loss was the first sign of it. As the pleasure began to fade, the frantic spurts of his cum shot into me. Fear was the next. The habitual one that I could get pregnant quickly dismissed by the hard presence of the birth control implant in my arm, so that should've been it. Instead, it spiked harder.

His arms around me, his pants on the back of my neck, but most of all in the way he cradled me against him. Like I was something special, precious, and he was… what? Not a dream lover who disappeared as soon as I opened my eyes, because when I did, Brock was still there.

Light streamed in through his window, the quiet broken by the sound of his alarm going off. He didn't pull away to turn it off, instead nestling in closer, his groan vibrating through a body too sensitive, too raw. That rhythmic blare awakened a similar one in me, telling me to get up, get away, get to work. That's why I pulled away, even as his hands strove to hold me where I was. I sat on the edge of the bed, feeling the same cum I'd wanted kept inside me beginning to seep free. It was all real sexy last night, but now I was staining his sheets.

"Jamie?"

I was up and out of bed, searching blindly for a bathroom, a toilet, somewhere I could clean up. He didn't have an en suite, so my hand went to the door and I pulled it open hoping he hadn't gotten house mates in between now and the last barbecue.

"Jamie?"

He was wondering what the fuck was wrong with me, I could tell that by his voice, and I wanted to answer. He deserved that, didn't he? But what could I say? The tiles of the bathroom were cold on my feet, but I spied the shower and turned the taps on.

"Jamie…?"

He stood in the doorway, answering a question I'd been dying to ask for so damn long. Yeah, those tattoos covered his chest, a few curling across his iliac crest at his hips. Oh and yeah, he was fucking hot. The morning light caressed him, picking out the shape of every damn muscle, so why was I ducking under the spray of the water, reaching for the soap, not him?

Because in the cold hard light of day, he felt too big, too hard, too perfect, and most of all, too close.

There was a question in his eyes as he opened the shower door and stepped inside the capacious recess. He could hang back and watch me scrub my skin in brisk movements without even getting close to touching me.

"Figured we might save some water showering together."

This was my opportunity to say no, don't. That there was something wild and free about last night, but now was the next day. Post-nut clarity, that's what some of the guys called it, when desire deserted you and left you wondering what the fuck you'd done.

Because I had to get to work today, put in a long shift at the end of the week as Brock's employee.

When Clinton joked about me having a sleepover, I'd laughed because there was no damn way that was happening. Brock was Brock and I was… turned away from him, scrubbing my body like my life depended on it, right up until the point his hand went to my hip. He brought me around to face him, questions, answers, way too much in his gaze. Most of all there was warmth, the kind that threatened to chase the cold from my bones.

From my heart.

This is fake , I told myself over and over. Fake, fake, fake.

But it didn't feel like it was and I didn't know how to deal with that. This was messy by anyone's standards. Sleeping with your boss, even if my work mates thought we were together. What if this was a one off? What if it wasn't? What if he wanted more? What would I do if he wanted me to move on to another job after this fake dating thing was done? All good questions to ask before you sleep with your employer. Instead, he stared into my eyes and took the soap from my hands, lathering up in front of me before handing it back to me and going to work scrubbing my back. His touch, those long strokes, they helped settle something inside me, quieting my mind as I just stood there.

If he was scrubbing me, it only made sense I needed to do the same for him if we were to get to work on time, but as I reached out, I wondered where the hell the girl was from last night. She was bold, brazen even, touching Brock like she had a right to. But that was in the dark and this was the light, so I saw my hand, the soap, then his chest as I washed him off.

A low grunt had me looking up to find him staring down at me. I knew satisfaction when I saw it, because I'd worked really hard as an apprentice to earn that look. To get it now from something as simple as washing him was strange, but it emboldened me. The soap, not me, glided across his chest, down his arms and into his hands, which he held out so I could scrub them clean.

I reduced Brock down into parts, hands, arms, chest, shoulders, neck. The tattoos were obscured by the bubbles then washed clean by the shower spray as I moved down. His stomach tensed as I got lower, the muscles like iron under my fingers

And that wasn't all.

I came up close and personal to the cock I could still feel the echo of inside me, my hand, my focus forcing it to thicken. Not quite hard yet, but definitely interested.

"You don't have to…" His words faded away as my soapy hand curled around him.

The way his whole body stiffened, the way he sucked in a breath, eyes going wide as he felt me touch him, that went some way to pushing aside the cold bite of fear, warming me up somewhat, but not entirely thawing me. Right now, I had him in the palm of my hand. I was in control, had his entire focus as his hand slapped down on the tiles, his eyes burning into mine as he lunged closer, wanting a kiss.

But I danced back.

I couldn't do that kind of intimacy now, but this? Feeling him harden so fast my fingers were forced to pull apart to fit him. He studied me, there were questions ready to be asked, but grunts of pleasure drowned them out. My arm worked now, the muscles tight as I jerked him harder and faster. He was tugged along by my pace, his nails scratching against the tiles.

"Jamie…"

My name was a plea now, rather than a term of affection. He wanted this, the pleasure I could give him, not me, which is why I pulled away. I watched the soap get washed off his shaft and then dropped down to my knees.

"No, love, we…"

I had his cock in my mouth, nudging at the back of my throat, but he was the one who was silenced. When I moaned experimentally, it jumped at the vibrations, so my hands went to his hips, pulling him as deep as I dared. My throat flexed, rebelling at this intrusion, but I persisted, moving back and then bobbing my head over and over.

"Fuck, look at you taking my… Just like that, baby."

My teeth threatened to clamp down at that small term of endearment, but I continued. His hand was gentle on the back of my head, encouraging me to suck him harder, faster, deeper. The shower washed away the strings of saliva that escaped my lips, right up until I felt him harden that little bit more.

"Jamie, I'm coming. Pull off if you don't want this. Pull off…" But when it became clear I wouldn't, he held me tightly as I felt him flex and then pulse inside my mouth. Rope after rope of cum filled my mouth and then was swallowed down before I pulled off him with a pop.

His thumb brushed against my lips, then parted it, looking into my mouth and then nodding, all of that sweetness driven away by something harder, hotter.

"What a fucking way to start the day."

I'd made the boss happy, kept him from looking at me like I was his heart's desire and apparently that was my aim, but when I went to get up, he scooped me into his arms and pressed me against the wall. A hard, punishing kiss was my reward, something I fought initially, then found myself relaxing into.

When he released me, I was dazed, something restless but hazy rising inside me; but while I was distracted by that, he dried himself off and me. I looked at my clothes from yesterday in dismay, knowing what kind of crap I'd cop if I walked in the door in them before Brock produced the plastic bag of my work gear. I didn't like to wear the same thing two days in a row, but I was fairly sure the guys did that all the time, so I pulled them on, and that's when I began to settle. Jamie the mechanic. Jamie, Brock's employee, was back in the room, and I knew how to be her.

"We might need to grab coffees on the way and eat a breakfast of cold pizza," he said. "We're running a bit late this morning."

And he looked all too pleased by it. I grabbed a piece out of the box and started munching it, even as a curl of anxiety twisted in my guts.

Apparently with good reason.

"Same clothes, Mouse?" Clinton said, reaching over to tug my sleeve, only for Brock to knock his hands away. "So you did have a sleepover. Pay up!"

Ken muttered something as he pulled out a twenty dollar bill and handed it over as Gary shook his head. He wasn't the only one to respond to that. Hayden was sitting on an old crate by the garage doors with a couple of coffees in hand. He got to his feet when he saw us, but all that tanned skin went pale when he heard Clinton.

"Remind me when I started paying you to give commentary on my love life?" Brock's dry tone contained a kind of steely threat that had everyone shifting restlessly, but then he opened the door and let us in.

"So you were at Brock's last night?" Hayden asked me, but his brother shouldered forward.

"Tell me how it's any of your business and I'll let you know what happened," came Brock's growled response.

"I thought we weren't going on dates for a day or two?"

"Hayden—" I started to say.

"Ooh, plot twist." Clinton stood with an unlit cigarette between his lips, his lighter in hand. "You dating all the brothers, Mouse?"

I knew that look. It was the same one the guys wore when they found out one of the female apprentices was sleeping with one of them. One part voracious curiosity, one part salacious interest, and I hated it all. Right as I was about to open my mouth, explain, put Clinton off with an excuse, anything, someone else had to arrive to complicate things.

"Well, look at this. The gang's all here." I turned to see Hunter strolling up the driveway, his eyes dancing until they settled on me. "And just the girl I was looking for. You didn't answer my texts, so I thought I'd drop by and confirm what we were doing tonight."

Shit, that's when I remembered I'd planned to go on a date with Hunter. I was ready to kick past-Jamie in the butt, because all three men stared at me right now.

"Tonight?" Brock and Hayden asked.

I swallowed hard, wishing we'd had time to grab a damn coffee this morning.