Chapter 7: Ruth

Jack follows me down the hallway toward the rear entrance. Between my office and the rear entrance is a door marked PRIVATE. I open it, revealing a dark, narrow staircase. I flip on the light.

"After you," he says, motioning for me to proceed.

Jack follows me up the narrow wooden steps to a dimly-lit landing that leads to a single door. There's a welcome mat in front of the door, and beside it sits a small metal table holding a vase of plastic daisies.

"Cute," Jack says as he fingers one of the fake flowers.

"That's my attempt at trying to make it look more homey." I frown. "Interior design is not my strong suit."

Jack chuckles as I open the door. We step inside, and I turn on the lights. At least the inside of the apartment is half decent. Two large windows along the exterior wall let in moonlight. During the day, it's actually quite sunny in here.

"This is my home away from home," I say. "I use it on nights when the weather's too bad to drive home."

It's a small, one-bedroom apartment, with just a kitchenette, a sitting area, a bedroom, and a bathroom. It's barebones, but it's comfortable.

After closing the door behind us, I head for the bedroom. Jack follows.

Like the rest of the apartment, the bedroom has just the essentials—a double bed and a nightstand. There's a small closet with a few garments hanging inside. There are extra pillows and bedding on a shelf above the clothes rod.

"Shit," he says suddenly. "My condoms are in my car. I'll run out—"

"Don't bother. I've got some." I open the bedside drawer, pull out a packet, and toss it on the nightstand.

He grins, shaking his head. "Just one?"

I give him an arch look. "You're that confident?"

"I hope once won't be enough for you. I know it won't be enough for me." He stalks toward me and pulls me flush against him. One of his arms snakes around me, and with his free hand, he cups my face and gazes into my eyes. "Have I mentioned how incredibly beautiful you are?"

"No." In my experience, men compliment women when they want something from them, and they rarely say what they mean. I've been burned too many times. "I already said yes, Jack. You don't need to butter me up."

He laughs. "I'm not. I mean it."

I slip my arms around his waist. "How about less talking and more kissing, before I change my mind?"

His smile widens. "Yes, ma'am."

Cupping my face in his hands, he gazes into my eyes, as if searching for something. "You are beautiful," he says, "but when I first saw you, it wasn't your looks that held me captive. It was your strength. The way you carry yourself. Your confidence. That's what attracts me to you."

My heart skips a beat, and I wonder if he's a mind reader. He hardly knows me, so how in the world can he know the words I long to hear? That he's not intimidated by me.

When his mouth settles over mine, his lips caressing and molding to mine, I imagine a tug between us, connecting me to him. I brush aside the fanciful notion and focus on the feel of his mouth, his lips, his wicked tongue.

I grasp his arms and marvel at the firmness of his biceps—hard as steel beneath my fingers. His body is temptation itself—every muscle, carved and hewn. His fingers, so long and strong, so capable. I imagine how those calloused fingertips would feel on my breasts, between my legs.

As he deepens our kiss, stealing my breath and making me dizzy in the process, I take matters into my own hands and start unbuttoning my shirt. His breath hitches in his throat, followed by what I can only describe as a growl.

He stares as I shrug off my shirt and then reach behind me to unsnap my bra. That, too, falls to the floor. His heated gaze lands on my breasts.

"Are we doing this, or what?" I ask when he just stares at me.

"Hell, yes, we are," he says as he starts unbuttoning his own shirt. "By the way, it's been a while for me, so please don't judge me on technique." He winks at me. "At least not the first time."

It's a race then, to see how fast we can both get undressed.

The bedroom is shrouded in darkness, but the door's open, and the light in the living room is on. It's enough light to see by. It's my turn to stare now as Jack's shirt falls to the floor, revealing broad shoulders and well-defined arm muscles.

His chest is a work of art, all sinewy muscles and tanned skin. It's a man's body, rough and sexy as fuck. I lay my hands against his chest, feeling his warmth. I give in to the temptation to slide my palms up to his shoulders, and then around his neck.

He's watching me ogle him, but I don't care. I greedily look my fill. If I'm going to have only this one night with him, I want to remember every moment. Stepping closer, I cup his face, then slide my fingers into his hair. When I dig my nails lightly into his scalp, gripping his hair, he closes his eyes and groans.

When I press my mouth to his, he sucks in a breath and opens his mouth, nudging my lips open as well. As he deepens the kiss, he palms my breasts, cupping them in his warm hands. He brushes my nipples with his thumbs, making them tighten swiftly into hard peaks. A jolt of electricity streaks from my breasts down to the throbbing spot between my legs. Already I'm aching and wet, and we've hardly started.

He draws me closer, my bare breasts pressing against his firm chest. One arm snakes around me, and with his free hand, he grasps the nape of my neck, cupping it firmly and sending shivers down my spine.

His mouth covers mine once more, and a deep groan rumbles in his chest as his tongue swipes against mine.

He tastes like whiskey and Coke, and he smells divine—like heat and fire and man. His hands are strong and sure, and he clearly knows what he's doing. I think that talk earlier about technique was just for show.

I gasp in surprise when he scoops me up and carries me to the foot of the bed, sitting me down. He crouches on the rug in front of me and removes my boots and socks, his fingers working quickly and sure. Then he rises and gently pushes me onto my back. His fingers make quick work unfastening my jeans and lowering the zipper before he tugs them and my underwear down my legs.

Suddenly, I'm naked and shivering in the cool, night air.

"Don't worry, I'll warm you up," he says as he kicks off his shoes and peels off his socks. He unfastens his own jeans and lowers the zipper. To my surprise, he leaves them on. Then he kneels at the foot of the bed and slips between my legs, throwing them over his shoulders.

Well, he's not wasting any time.

He moves in, holding my gaze with his the entire time, as if he's gauging my reaction. When his tongue touches me, my hips rocket off the mattress. With a chuckle, his hands bring me back down.

It's been a long time since I let a man get this close to me. He's definitely encroaching on my personal space, but surprisingly, I'm okay with it. I want his mouth on me. I want it all.

He takes my silence as acquiescence and resumes what he started. His mouth is hot and hungry, bold and demanding. My body writhes beneath his assault, my lungs billowing. I fist the comforter beneath me, tugging on the material as I squirm like a fish on a hook. Holy fuck!

His wicked tongue knows exactly how to drive me wild, and by the time his finger joins in the action, rimming my aching wet opening, I'm whimpering like a virgin on her wedding night. "Jack!"

He's relentless, driving my arousal higher and higher until my thighs are trembling, my belly quivering. My chest heaves as I try to catch my breath. My pleasure climbs until a climax slams through me. It's intense and wild and devastating. I swear I see stars. As I cry out shamelessly, I reach for him.

He shoots to his feet and shoves his jeans and underwear down his legs. Then he kneels on the bed and draws me higher up the mattress so my head falls onto a pillow.

He grabs the condom packet, rips it open, and sheaths himself with quick, practiced expertise. Then he's looming over me, using his knee to nudge my legs open wide enough for him to slip between them.

As he lifts one of my legs, opening me wider, he leans down and kisses me, his mouth stealing my breath and sealing our lips together.

Kneeling, he uses his free hand to position himself at my drenched opening. He presses in, burying the head of his erection, and then he props a hand on the mattress to keep his weight off me. Slowly, he thrusts, sliding deeper, an inch at a time, pulling out, then sliding back in, letting my arousal ease the way as he slowly stretches me.

"Okay?" he gasps, nailing me with his gaze.

All I can do is nod. It's been a while for me, and Jack's a big guy. But I love how he fills me so perfectly.

Once he's all in, he starts to move, slowly at first, but then picking up speed. His thrusts grow stronger, and now he's powering into me, swift and deep. His chest is heaving, as is mine. With a grunt, he sinks deep inside me, and then, grasping my hips, he turns us so I'm sitting astride him. Still, he does the work, raising and lowering me with his powerful hands. I press my hands to his chest to balance myself. In this position, it's easy for me to find the right angle so the head of his cock strokes my sweet spot.

I come a second time, which shocks the hell out of me. He follows right behind me, arching his back as he drives himself deep inside me. He thrusts violently, the sounds coming from him guttural and deep. Gradually, his thrusts slow, and I collapse forward onto his chest, sucking in a lungful of air.

His arms come around me, and he holds me close. We're still joined, and I can feel the lingering pulses as he continues ejaculating.

Finally, he slides out of me, lowers me to his side, and slips out of the bed to disappear into the bathroom to dispose of the condom. A moment later, I hear the water running.

Just as he comes out of the bathroom, I slip in there to take care of business. When I return to bed, he lifts the covers in an invitation for me to slip in beside him.

Jack rolls to face me and hikes one of my legs up over his hip, pulling me close. He leans in for a kiss. "I am officially wiped out."

Grinning, I say, "I guess, at your age, it's not surprising."

He returns my smile, then brushes his nose against mine. "Funny. Please tell me there are more condoms."

My heart skips a beat. "Yes."

"Good. Let me sleep a few hours first."

"It's pretty presumptuous of you to assume I want more." But who am I kidding? Of course I want more.

He cocks an eyebrow at me. "Are you saying you don't?"

A soft laugh slips out. "No."

He nods. "Didn't think so. You came twice. I counted." Then he realizes the living room light is still on, bleeding into the bedroom. "Damn it." He gets up and walks out of the bedroom, giving me an unobstructed view of his taut backside. After turning off the light, he returns to bed.

This time he rolls me over and spoons me from behind, sliding one leg between mine and curling his arm over my waist. He tucks me in close, his softened penis nestled against my ass.

He's being presumptuous again, but I don't point that out. I kind of like it.

Jack meant it when he said he was wiped out. His breathing changes quickly as he falls asleep, leaving me wide awake.

I can't believe I let him—a virtual stranger—fuck me. All I know is his name. I know nothing else about him, not where he's from, where he's going. Nothing. He could be a criminal for all I know, an ex-con even. And I just rode him like a cowgirl. What the hell is wrong with me?