Page 52 of Will to Run

“Okay, well, do you want me to… finish the job?”

“The job?” he laughs. “Maybe I just wanted to watch you get off. And let me tell you, it was everything I hoped it would be. Let’s get inside.”

He bends to grab my purse and fishes out the keys. I’m a mix between dazed from the orgasm and mortified at how it happened. But the feeling… that feeling of being unable to keep away? The thrill I got when he pushed me up against the door? It’s exactly how I hoped it would feel, and I’ll carry that forever. In fact, that just became my new standard.

When we get in, I avoid eye contact, and offer him a drink, because I don’t know what else to do with myself. He must feel my shame because before I know it, he corners me by the fridge and uses his fingers to force eye contact like he did in the car.

“Talk to me,” he says.

“I’m… I guess I’m just a little embarrassed of… myself.”

“For taking what you wanted in a moment? I say good for you. Get it, Tatroe. I can’t believe that anyone is repulsed by you, by the way. I heard what you said at the bar last time, and anyone who doesn’t think of you as the gold standard is a fucking fool.”

“You aren’t mad that you didn’t get yours?” Still unable to wrap my head around him not wanting something in return.

“Sex and pleasure aren’t transactional, Della.”

“But don’t you want… like… more?” I ask.

“The thought of you and me together in different scenarios is what’s kept my dick hard for weeks. I think you’re gorgeous, I think our chemistry is pretty insane, and I would love to show you what great sex is, but I don’t score keep. Stripping your clothes off on your front porch didn’t make sense in the moment.”

“But what about now?” The words slip out before I can process the gravity of them. “Am I still too inebriated to make a sound decision?” The embarrassment from earlier evaporates when he talks about whatever is happening between us… or maybe it was his proximity and the relentlessly hard dick comment.

Who am I? I mean, I had streaks of boldness before, but not like this. After a single orgasm, I’m already feeling more empowered by this man. My hands reach for the front of his pants, and he is still hard as a rock. He inhales sharply when I stroke him through the denim, and though I felt him on different parts of my body, I can’t believe how big he actually feels between my hands.

“I don’t know you well enough to know if you’re too drunk for this,” he says through gritted teeth, his restraint audibly fraying.

“So you’ll have to take my word for it, then?” I say, undoing his belt, top button, and zipper on his pants, staring at him and daring me to stop, before pulling them down leaving him bulging against his underwear. “Good news. I’m not.”

My hand goes back to stroking the boxer briefs, and trying to gauge if I’m pushing him too far. His eyes roll back in his head, and I can see him wrestling with the idea. I know he told me no earlier, but his reason was that I was too drunk. I’m not anymore, just a little buzzed… just enough to have the suspension of my own self-doubt.

I’ve played by the rules for so long, now it’s time for me to take what I want.

And I want this man.

26

JAXON

Ilike to think I’m a good human. My parents raised me right. I have good morals and values, and I’m good to people. And normally, I have strength of conviction.

Normally.

Until Della Tatroe ended up in my orbit. Now all my convictions are shot to hell, and each time I commit to a new one, I move the goalpost.

At the bar, I didn’t accept her kiss because she’d been drinking heavily, and I really want to make sure she’s in the right headspace. But when she seemed to sober up a bit, I couldn’t stop myself from getting close… too close… to her on her porch. I can’t fucking explain the way I’m drawn to every piece of this woman. When I tried to pretend I wasn’t wavering, her disappointment rang out louder than any conviction I had, and the last thread of my restraint gave out.

That first night I kissed her when she jumped into my bed, it felt more powerful than it should have been. But the porch kiss? It was indescribable. Instead of taking it slow, I had her pinned against her door, and rubbing on my body in the filthiest way. And fuck me if letting her use my leg like that wasn’t hotter than I ever imagined that could be. I thought that if she got off, we could postpone anything else…

But now my pants are around my ankles, and she’s stroking my dick that’s been hard since she came to town, and I’m hoping the flimsy fabric of my underwear spontaneously evaporates. I don’t think she’s going to wake up and question if I took advantage of her or anything, and with each stroke, the reservations are getting quieter and quieter before they vanish into the wind.

At the end of the day, she’s leaving soon. Even if she ends up hating me for some reason, it’ll be for a couple more weeks. But I don’t think that will be the case.

In fact, the craziest part of this is that I’m not looking at her like some drive-by fuck. I mean, yeah, she’s hot and willing, but this just feels. I don’t know. It’s the same thing I tried to say to Molly earlier. There is no basis for any feelings, but something about her speaks to me in a way beyond simple physical desire. And it’s completely fucking unnerving.

While being lost in my head, I miss the fact that Della has moved to her knees. Looking up at me, she asks one more time. “Do you trust my judgment, Jaxon? Can I do this?”

Her thumbs wrap around the waistband of the remaining fabric, and she’s brushing them along my skin teasingly. At this point, whether I trust her judgment or not, I’m not saying no. Those pouty lips wrapped around my dick tempt me beyond the point of restraint.