Haze

chapter 4

Jack met me outside a Greek restaurant, one that he claimed had some of the best coffee in town. "It's called a freddo cappuccino," he said appreciatively. "Milk whipped in a milkshake maker with espresso. Positively perfect."

"Nice alliteration, Jack. As long as it's got caffeine, I'll drink it." I weakly smiled at him, trying my damndest not to be utterly smitten by his painfully good looks. He was wearing a pair of dark jeans and a black button-down dress shirt that had the first three buttons unbuttoned, enough that I could see a dash of soft hair on his chest. It really made me want to see his whole chest...

We got a table to the side, one that was fairly private and secluded compared to the rest of the place. Jack ordered our freddo cappuccinos and then he sprung to life, wasting no time at all..

"I'm so sorry, Effie. This is going to sound like a stupid cliché—and I know you already said that—but it was just a misunderstanding, I swear." Jack took a slow sip from his water. "That girl—well, she's a little strange. Elana is her name. She stays down the hall sometimes. Has a lot of emotional baggage. I tried dating her at one point—we shared an apartment together and it just grew from there—but it didn't last long and it's been over for years. Yeah, she's pretty, but she's literally un-dateable." He was so blunt and forward. No hang ups. No pauses until he was done.

"Oh, so she's like a friend with benefits? Do you still sleep with her?"

Jack frowned at me. "Absolutely not. She gets drugged up and then comes and knocks on my door. I never answer it. You walked out right when she showed up. After you left, I walked her back to her place and wished her a goodnight. End-of-story. I just try to be nice to her."

"Well, how the hell can she afford a place like that?" I asked suddenly.

"She is crazy, not poor. She's a f*cking good artist. You've probably actually seen her work around town."

"Where would I have seen it?"

He laughed. "I don't know exactly, but Elana says it's there. There are a lot of places it could be. Plus, they never kick her out of her room, so cash must be coming from somewhere."

"You really believe her?" I did believe him, actually, about all of this. Upon reflection, he hadn’t seemed happy to see her at all. Maybe he had been just feigning it, but based on what he was saying, it didn't seem that way.

Jack smiled at me and looked deep into my eyes—I was already hooked. "Effie, it doesn't matter what Elana says or does. She's out of the picture, I promise. That was just a strange coincidence. And I'm sorry for moving so fast with you. Sometimes I forget that women are different from men. I'm a dumbass."

I had to really think about that one. Had we actually moved too fast? Would I have done that in any other situation? I couldn't answer that question for myself. Nevertheless, I still felt something that was unmistakably lust. The more I stared at this man, the more I wanted him—and now he was acting like our encounter had been too far too soon.

"Effie?"

I hadn't said anything and it was obvious how loudly I was thinking.

"Yeah, sorry." I paused again, trying to calculate the right thing to say next. The coffee arrived before I had a chance.

"Try it," he said excitedly. The thrill of coffee served as a nice distraction. His enthusiasm was adorable.

I looked at the beverage, the visual aspect of it really beautiful. The cold, whipped milk sat atop the espresso just perfectly, a small blur of color where the two substances met. I took a sip and couldn't believe it. It was the perfect amount of sweet while not being too sweet, the perfect iced coffee drink for that warm summer day.

"Wow. This is really good." A smile that I just couldn't hold back broke out on my face.

"Come on a date with me tonight, okay? Casual, no big deal." The words sputtered out at a machine-gun pace, as if he hadn't heard me compliment the coffee at all.

I sort of forgot about the coffee, too.

"What if I say no?"

"I'll send you three gifts tomorrow."

He definitely had the upper hand. "Fine, you win. I'll go." I took another sip of the drink. "What about Sam, though?" I asked.

"The business part of it? I'll never let this negatively affect your work situation. I promise. The artist and I haven't made a final decision yet. It has nothing to do with you."

"Sam is still freaking out about it," I said. "He seems pretty desperate. Maybe you should—"

"Maybe I should what?" he asked suddenly. "If I let this sway my business decision in any way, I could get into trouble later. So I'll keep it clear and concise, and we'll let him know when—and if—we're ready."

I quickly realized I had little to no idea what I was talking about—and more importantly that I needed to just shut up and not worry right now. "Okay, fine. Yeah, make the best decision for you."

"I always do," he said with a sly smile. "That's why I'm here."

"What if I said no to the date? Would you skip MCI?"

He started laughing and lightly stroked my hand, enough that it actually made me tremble. I was just glad to see that despite the little flare-up of business-related seriousness, he had already made a triumphant return to being jovial.

We kept with that theme and chatted casually the rest of the lunch. It seemed obvious that Jack wanted to keep things light—or maybe to save the heavy stuff for our upcoming, newly inevitable dinner.

As always, time seemed to move too fast, and before I knew it, I had to head back to work. Jack gave me a quick hug to conclude our little meeting, and honestly, I'll say I really liked it. I liked how secure I felt with his arms felt around me, as if I were momentarily shielded from the harshness of the city. It was so weird and tumultuous—I was trying to validate the things I felt whilst trying hide in a cloak of being logical.

The world rushed back in like an unpleasant drug as our bodies separated, the hug concluding prematurely, in my mind, at least. It had probably been the perfect amount of length; I just was too caught up to know for sure.

Jack smiled and headed off. There was no explicit goodbye. It was an omission that only served to make me even more excited about our upcoming date.

"Thanks for the gifts," I shouted to him as he got farther away. He lifted his hand to signify that he heard.

***

Sam didn't say anything else to me the rest of the day, only asking if I had any of the chocolates left.

"You really think I could eat all hundred of those, Sam? There were a lot in there."

He laughed uncontrollably and left again, realizing that I had taken them home. Sam seemed slightly more relaxed today, but I had no idea why. He didn't appear to be carrying as much tension in his shoulders.

I was afraid to say anything with regard to Jack, worried that just mentioning his name would implicate me in some sort of crime—or even worse, remind him that my secret admirer's name started with the letter J.

I left the office on time and headed home, walking as briskly as possible after I got off the last train. Jack was supposed to send a cab to my house to pick me up when it was time. I just needed to pick out something cute and casual to wear and I'd be all set to meet him.

After grabbing my favorite pair of jeans from the closet, I picked out a low-cut blouse. Normally, I would I have sought to be a little more conservative than that, but it was comfortable, and Jack had insisted that I be comfortable. Plus, there was nothing wrong with showing some cleavage. I had the boobs, so why not enjoy 'em?

I tidied up my hair/touched up my make-up and then sent Jack a text that said I was ready. Ten minutes after that, I headed downstairs and hopped in the cab that was there waiting for me. It was just as he promised.

The driver was very friendly, so friendly that he probably would have told me exactly where we were headed had I asked. I wanted a surprise, however, so I kept my mouth shut. I just wouldn't know where we were going until we got there.

Excitement bloomed inside of me, every passing block only making it worse. I was giddy as hell—this wasn't like a date I was used to.

The destination turned out to be a casual bar and grill sort of restaurant. Being new to the city, I had never been to it. The line in front of the building was a good sign, however. Jack was standing right in front of the crowd, his hair perfectly messy, his jeans perfectly tight. He opened the cab door for me.

"Effie! So nice of you to join me! You look terrific."

"Couldn't you have sent a limo?" I asked jokingly, instinctively deflecting his compliment and putting the attention on something less serious. I wasn't ready to start blushing.

"Next time," he said.

"Jack!" I complained, knowing that he probably wasn't kidding. He extended his arm and I accepted it, emerging into the warm night air.

Jack handed some cash to the driver and then led me inside, cutting through the rows of people waiting to get in. The interior was pretty much what I would have expected. There was a stage for live music and an expansive bar. Jack had a table for us near the stage, one that seemed exclusive, even if it wasn't. I couldn't tell if he was privileged here, or if he just made the proper reservations.

We started with a couple of drinks—he got a Manhattan again; I got a gin and tonic—and with their arrival came his inquisition.

"Effie, I want to know about you. Why are you here? Why are you giving me a chance? I'm sure tons of guys bother you all the time." It was the first round of drinks, so I couldn't blame it on the alcohol—yet.

I was taken aback by his forwardness, but I liked that he was being blunt. It blew my mind that he was asking me about being hit on, because I wanted to ask the same of him. He was the music star while I was just nothing. Maybe it was just him manipulating me, but even if it was, I liked it. It leveled the playing field entirely by making us both equal.

No lie emerged from my lips, even though I felt that his question was a little unjustified this early on. I was as honest as possible with him, withholding no details, keeping no secrets. When I mentioned my history with Timothy, he laughed.

"I know people like that," he said. "You made the right decision. It might have been okay for a year, but then you'd start realizing what you missed out on." Despite his preaching to the choir, I really appreciated his sympathy. It felt warm and genuine, even if it was redundant.

"I didn't even get that far. I just didn't want to do it." I sipped my drink, thankful that it was strong in that moment. Some of these memories were heavy to say the least, so it helped me keep moving forward.

"Well, it sounds like you got out of it okay. That's always a positive. Do you like it here?"

"I guess so," I said. "It hasn't been that long."

"Sure. Right." He took a big gulp of his drink and then moved to a sip of water. "I do like quieter places much better. The city certainly has its appeal, though, especially from a business perspective."

I watched him all night with great fascination, amazed at the things he knew about. He was so charming, so endlessly clever and bold. It was obvious why he had been able to succeed in the music business. Even if he had been telling me about quantum physics, it would have been the best lecture I'd ever listened to.

"Jack, how old are you?" I asked. The question seemed appropriate given everything else leading up to it.

"Guess," he said.

"Twenty-eight."

"Exactly right." His smile was deceiving.

"You're a liar."

"I'm thirty, all right?" He lowered his head, solemnly staring into the surface of the table. "When we're done here, we can go plan my funeral. I know a couple of good funeral homes in the area." He broke into a laugh that swelled over the roar of conversation in the restaurant.

I giggled in response, his silliness utterly contagious. "Talking about your own death is a great way to win over a girl on the first date." It was incredible to realize how much he had experienced in such a few short years after his success started rolling. He was only six years older than I was, and already he had done more than I would have done in ten lifetimes.

One thing was for sure—he had grown weary of huge companies within the music and film industries. He talked more about his career than his private life, but I wasn't ready to ask him anything too personal, despite the fact that he'd already dug into my past. He was fighting for artists who just didn't have a voice against huge corporate entities.

His passionate fight was kind of sexy, no doubt. It made me want to go out and protest something too, just anything, really. Monsanto, the government, other big corporations...

Anyhow, the conversation was perfect. I wanted to enjoy, not overanalyze. We ate, continuing to drink throughout the whole meal. By the time the table was cleared, the live music for the night had begun. It was a female singer-songwriter, one brandishing an acoustic guitar and a humble attitude. She began singing, and I just had to turn my head.

"She's great," I said. "Her voice is beautiful!" Hell, she was beautiful too. A cute little brunette, one wearing a pair of torn up jeans and a hoodie. I felt as if I were hearing something already produced for the radio, a product so pristine and nice that it would sell millions—if people could only find it. "Have you heard her before?"

"I might have," Jack said quietly. "There are lots of people like her in NYC, one for every coffee shop on every night. Maybe two or three for every coffee shop." It was a little more snide than I had expected from him.

"What do you think of her? I think she's great." Despite Jack's disinterest, I couldn't believe that I was hearing original music of this caliber so randomly. These people with acoustic guitars were a dime a dozen, just like he had said. I had been to so many gigs—everyone had a friend who started a band that wasn't any good; you just had to go so you didn't hurt their feelings—with the most boring, bland music ever, and this was the total opposite. It wasn't just the alcohol either.

Maybe that's why people were lined up outside...

"I'm not going to make a judgment prematurely, especially when we're talking about careers that need to last a lifetime. Just because someone can write one good song doesn't mean they can actually make it. This industry is brutal."

I didn't really like how stiff and boring he was being about her. He was supposed to be the expert, and yet, here I was, gushing over this person whom I was convinced would soon become a superstar while he acted like she was no big deal. Why wouldn't he take my opinion seriously? I felt very strongly about it, something unusual for me in regards to music.

The girl played through a full set, gorgeous song after gorgeous song, the lyrics as captivating as her incredible voice. I was convinced that I was witnessing perhaps the next Sheryl Crow, Alanis Morissette, or Adele. These songs were so well put together that I could already hear full arrangements in my head, lush productions with drums and guitars and keyboards—and it was actually kind of weird.

Jack continued to sit there, so stone-faced and bored-looking. I was suddenly having doubts about him, finding it was so weird that he couldn't connect with this incredibly emotional performance taking place in front of him.

Was he even human? Why was he acting so disinterested?

I could feel every word she sang, the topics ranging from misery to sheer joy, the sort of visceral word play that any listener could relate to. I started to lose myself in thought, analyzing Jack's behavior when I heard the performer speak.

"I would especially like to thank my producer, agent, and co-writer, Jack Teller. I wouldn't be anywhere without his help." The crowd clapped politely as Jack burst out laughing, accidentally spitting water on himself. A few people from the crowd looked over to him, probably because of the water spitting and not because they recognized him.

He had been playing me the whole time!

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I wanted to get your honest opinion without influencing you. If I told you that she was my artist, you would have just been nice whether you really liked her or not."

"You're so full of shit!" I was offended that he felt that way—I also realized that he was totally right. I wasn't going to admit it, though. The whole performance felt very different now, tinged with a brand new hue.

"I'm a shitty actor on top of that. I have to pretend I'm angry if I'm trying to hide a smile."

"I noticed." I sipped my drink defensively, if that was even possible.

Jack took my hand and lightly stroked it. "I'm sorry," he said again. "I won't do that again, okay? I just wanted to make sure I was doing a good job with Lexy."

Actually, it made me feel warm inside to hear that he valued my opinion, even though I didn't know shit about the music industry—well, other than crunching sales and expense figures. I had begged for him to take me seriously and gotten upset when he hadn't. This was great, actually. "What's her full name?"

"Lexy Brown. I actually moved here to work with her. I was in L.A. before."

"She's... pretty," I said distantly.

Jack gave me a cold smile and paused. "Pretty what? No, Effie. I've never slept with her, nor will I ever. It's just business, okay?"

"I didn't go there!" I said slightly louder than I had intended.

"She is pretty, Effie, but she's nothing compared to you." The words rolled out so smoothly, so warmly. He looked deep into my eyes and I fought him until I couldn't anymore. Jack spoke with such authenticity, such care. "Sex appeal does help in this business, no doubt."

I wanted to dwell on his compliment as much as I wanted to proceed with the conversation. It felt good; it just fit. I could have told him how gorgeous I thought he was, but lightening up the situation seemed like a better choice than flattery or contributing to narcissism. "I just can't see her in those Lady Gaga outfits though. She seems far too classy for that."

Jack finished his drink and slammed the glass down on the table. "You guys just don't get Gaga," he said. "She's brilliant, even if you think she's a little crazy."

We both started laughing uncontrollably, the former tension shattered into a million pieces. I was really glad he was joking with me again. By that time, Lexy had finished her last song and was putting her guitar away.

Jack turned around and stood up. "Lexy! C'mere and say hi!"

Lexy immediately smiled after noticing Jack and headed over to our table. "Hey, Jack! I didn't know you were here tonight." Lexy was even prettier up close. I swallowed a lump in my throat as she got to us.

"I had to hear how the new song was working out. It was fabulous."

I instinctively watched their body language, assuming the worst. They were close, no doubt—but I couldn't see anything beyond a working relationship no matter how hard I tried. "Lexy, this is Effie. Effie, this is Lexy."

I stood up and shook her hand. "Lexy, you were great! You're super talented."

She blushed, surprising me with her humility. "It's all Jack," she said. "I won't lie—he's really helped me learn my identity as a songwriter."

"Yeah, but I don't waste my time on just anyone." He looked at her so proudly, with so much admiration. The look was almost paternal. He had apparently cultivated her, molded her into this artist who was now attracting major-label attention and turning heads wherever she went.

"I was blown away," I said. It was the truth.

"Well, thanks again for being here. I've got to run, though. I'm doing a late show at a private club." She looked at her cell phone. "And it starts in less than an hour."

Jack laughed. "Okay, Lex. Give me a call when you're ready to go over that new material."

She smiled and nodded. "Nice meeting you, Effie."

"Same to you! Good luck tonight." Saying good luck made me feel stupid because she was really good and obviously didn't need any luck. Just a platitude that slipped out.

Lexy headed back to the stage to finish packing up her things, leaving Jack and I alone once again. "She's great," I said. "Not that you need to be told that."

"Undoubtedly. Do you want to get going soon?"

A part of me wanted to ask him where he suggested we go. However, I really liked surprises, so I kept my mouth shut. "Sure."

I took his hand as we stood up, holding it as he led us out of the restaurant and into the night. God, just touching him again made me fill with electricity, a sensation that made me tingle. I hadn't felt this way about anyone in ages. Not ever, really.

Meeting Lexy actually made me feel good, especially after hearing Jack's rant about the music industry and how it treated performers. It still was possible that he was just ripping her off to make himself money, but I didn't think it was the case. I believed he truly had her best interests in mind, no doubt. I wished that I had a time machine so I could go forward in the future and see just how big she would become...

"Something on your mind?" Jack asked. We were walking down crowded streets, the cool summer air blowing against us. I was sticking close to his body.

"I had a nice time tonight," I said.

He stopped abruptly. "Oh, so you're already calling it quits?"

"No! That's not what I meant." By the time the words were out, I realized he was playing.

"You're excited to go out clubbing? We can go take some ecstasy and dance all night! Is that what you meant?" That same sly smile returned.

"Jack! I have to work tomorrow. And I hope you're kidding about the drugs." Dancing sounded fun, but I was going to take a rain check for now if he pushed it.

He started laughing again, that innocent, deep laugh. "I'm not gonna lie—I've tried the stuff. But I'm past that now. Those were some wild nights on the west coast."

All of this random history gave him a something of a former bad boy persona. I liked it, actually. I just didn't plan on doing any drugs myself. "Do you still perform anymore?" I asked.

"On occasion. I can sing and write songs, but I don't really feel like I'm a singer. I like to write songs for others now. I feel like that's my real gift. And arrangements."

"You're probably really good," I said, thinking that for some reason it would mean something to him. "But I don't know anything."

Jack smiled and leaned down to kiss my cheek. "That's what makes you so good. You're not full of shit like the other ninety-nine percent of people I meet. Effie, you're honest."

In that moment, I didn't care if he was just trying to make me feel good. I didn't know if what he said was true, especially because I had never considered it. But right then and there, I believed him. And I wanted him more than anything. It hurt how bad I wanted him.

Why was it so powerful when he included me alongside his passions? Why was I so susceptible to his honesty, his powerful observations that fit me perfectly into his chaotic world? Everyone longed for inclusion, to be a crucial part of another's life puzzle. I guess I was discovering my place.

"Let's go back to my apartment and just chill out. How does that sound? I'll have you back early enough that you actually make it to work tomorrow."

I cuddled up against him as we walked. "Okay."

We ended up taking a cab back to his place—how he kept track of all of these different homes was beyond me—another gorgeous building in the heart of Manhattan. This was a studio apartment, one with granite countertops and modern appliances, leather couches and chairs. He had this one goofy looking ottoman/chair set in the corner, which he claimed was the most comfortable chair in the world. I didn't have a chance to try it.

"Would you like a glass of wine?" he asked.

"Sure." My eyes crawled along the walls—there were gold and platinum records hanging there. He wasn't that much older than I was, and already his talent had reached more people than I would reach the rest of my life. It made me jealous in a very superficial way.

Jack joined me by the wall and handed me a glass. "Let's go look at something more interesting." He turned me around and led me out onto his outside patio. It was yet another incredible view of the city. Skyscrapers stood innocently around us, their blinking and changing lights so fascinating in the nighttime.

We sipped in silence, our arms wrapped around each other. I quietly listened to his heartbeat, allowing it to blend in with the ambient noise of the city that never slept. His apartment was pretty high up, so the noise that reached us wasn't as harsh and abrasive as it would have been at street level. It was relatively calming, more so than I was used to while being in the heart of everything. In a way, it was like the subway, that beautiful drone that overtook my senses entirely.

Being so close to him only made me remember what had happened in the suite after the party, how he had touched me, made me come so effortlessly. I was thinking about it non-stop, wishing I had the guts to make a move. He had said we would take it slow, but God, I just didn't want to wait. Frankly, I didn't believe I could wait. I wondered what he was thinking, wondered what was going on in his brain.

"Effie?" he asked. I was glad to hear him speak.

"Yeah?" The tension was so strong that I feared I was about to melt.

He set down his glass of wine on the table next to us. "Will you please put down your glass of wine?"

"Why?" I asked. I reflexively took another sip. I wasn't sure if his request was something to be concerned about.

"Because I don't want it to spill when I'm carrying you inside to f*ck you."

He had read my mind and had matched how filthy it was at that moment. "Jack, I—"

"I can't resist you anymore, Effie." The dim light from the city reflected in his eyes, those gorgeous, powerful green orbs of intensity. He remained still, awaiting my response like a defendant awaiting a verdict.

"I feel the same way." As soon as my glass hit the table, his arms were under my legs and back, lifting me into the air, his strength so perfectly overwhelming. Our lips met immediately, the spark between them something I'd never forget. We were moving inside his apartment as our tongues twined, dancing intricately within the kiss.

I had become wet instantly, my body manipulated and flipped on like a switch. I couldn't delude myself—I had wanted him this whole time, even through all of the ups and downs of my thoughts, through his strange yet effective process of handing out public gifts.

This moment said it all.

We were moving down the hall, approaching his bedroom, our chests rising and falling together. He lowered me onto his bed gently, the comforter so soft and inviting. Sweat was already beading on my forehead, the combination of our heat and the warm night threatening to cook me right then and there if I didn't get out of my clothes.

Jack immediately pulled up my blouse, his hands tracing along my bare skin as he revealed it. I unbuttoned my jeans, and he helped me wriggle out of them.

"God, Effie, I need to taste you," he moaned.

I unbuttoned his shirt until it was loosely hanging off him. He dropped it to the floor, revealing his taut muscles, his physical condition optimal without being overpowering. Even though I could see very little in the dark, I spotted the bulge in his jeans, the promise already almost too much to handle.

Jack unclasped my bra with one hand and tossed it onto the pile of clothes next to the bed. "Your breasts are f*cking perfect," he said, his tone husky and dominant enough to make me tremble.

He greedily took my nipples into his mouth, one by one, cupping the opposite breast with his hand as he alternated. His lips and teeth took me teetering toward the delicate edge of pleasure and pain, his touch making me shiver.

His hand settled against my mound, holding pressure there, reminding me teasingly what he could do with his fingers. My * was so swollen, so needy. I moaned as I felt his fingers crawling under the elastic of my panties, my mind anticipating what would come next.

Jack kissed down my front, starting beneath my breasts until his face was just centimeters away from my *oris. I could feel his hot breath against that sensitive flesh, and it drove me wild. He kept one hand on my breast as he started licking me with such delicate aggression, tweaking my nipple in rhythm with his tongue.

I was literally overcome by sensation, my back arching to push my pelvis even closer to him. Keeping the back part of his tongue on my *, he parted my lips with the tip, tasting the juices that had accumulated there. I could tell he was savoring what he had found, his low groans vibrating against my flesh.

"Your p-ssy tastes so sweet," he remarked. In one swift motion, he was up against my face, kissing me even deeper than he had before. I lustfully kissed back, accepting his gift. Tasting my own flavor made my head spin—well, that, and Jack's masterful, animalistic efforts.

As quickly as he arrived, he was down below again, spiraling his tongue against that tight bundle of nerves. I continued moaning as the room slowly began to spin. He parted me with his fingers now, pressing against my walls with artificial curiosity because he knew exactly where to go.

His fingers against that button inside of me, my legs wrapped around his head and hand as if they were capturing him, doing their best to ensure he could never stop doing what he was doing to me.

I couldn't hold out, his efforts barraging me with pleasure, pushing me toward sexual heights I'd never explored. "Let yourself go, Effie. Come for me."

His request was too much for any amount of self-discipline. I came just like that, my toes curling, my back arching to new extremes. My muscles tightened in waves while my vision blurred. I called out his name, thanking him, damning him for spoiling me so much. I could never come back from something like this, could I?

Jack's lips and tongue followed me through my climax, mirroring my intensity perfectly. When it had slowed, I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Holy shit," I said. I was filled with the need to reciprocate; to touch him as he had touched me.

I repositioned myself on the bed and ran my hands down his front, caressing his cock through his boxers. It pulsed with every beat of his heart. I pulled the boxers down at once, revealing his hugeness, eyeing it hungrily. The size was a little intimidating, no lie.

"Not tonight," Jack said. I didn't quite know what he meant.

Suddenly, he pulled away, his hands digging in a drawer and then closing it. I heard the sound of foil tearing and then saw him rolling a condom onto that beautiful shaft of his. Seconds later, he was using his full weight to push me against the bed, dominating me with his superior strength. It was exactly what I wanted.

"I'm going to make you come all over me," he said, his width parting me as the last word left his lips. I gasped, truly feeling how big his erection was. He was inside me now, pushing deeper, the initial pain so worth it due to what would come next. My walls flexed around him, stretching to accommodate his superior size.

"Look into my eyes, Effie." He kept going deeper, reaching parts of me no man had ever reached. I could tell he loved that strain on my face, the tension as we fit our bodies together in the hottest way possible. I watched him dutifully, giving myself to him because I wanted to more than anything in the world.

He started to rock his hips with aggression, with such carnal intent. It felt so good, so utterly divine. I let out tiny gasps now and then, my mind unable to form any real words at all. Our bodies were coated with sweat by this point, and I didn't care one bit. Jack didn't seem to mind either.

"You're so tight, Effie. So perfect." The words just bounced off of me since I could barely process them.

Jack's thrusts kept getting deeper and deeper, his cock almost falling out of me and then plunging all the way back in to the hilt. He was pressing against my g-spot again with each thrust, his shaft regularly brushing my *.

I usually had to wait a short while between orgasms, but I already felt a second emerging, one bigger than the first. Jack was moving quicker and quicker, perhaps realizing that he wouldn't be able to last much longer either. His unhinged behavior was definitely having an effect on my sensitivity.

"I'm gonna come!" he snarled.

When I felt him start twitching inside of me, time seemed to slow. In that moment, I was receiving all of his pent up sexual aggression, his lust reaching a climax inside my womb. Our bodies were slapping together so loudly, so rapidly. He had one hand under my back and one hand on my breast, controlling my body through his strategic touch.

And then, I was there again—with him this time—the fireworks exploding behind my eyes. His groans became so much more desperate, his pace and intensity the perfect complement to my own.

"Yes! Yes!" He was almost growling, his body overcome by pleasure. "Oh, God!"

We were contorting our bodies together, locking ourselves in a position we'd never want to leave. Sex had never been like this for me before. This was something alien, something beautiful. Something I felt instead of understood. I didn't want it to die down, not now, not ever.

Jack slowed with me, laying his head between my breasts after he was spent. "Oh, God, Effie. That was beautiful."

"Thank you." It was all I could say.

He eased out of me, leaving me with an unexpected feeling of emptiness. When he wrapped his arms tightly around me though, I forgot about it entirely. I found a comfortable spot for my head on his chest. He planted two small kisses on my cheek after I settled there.

Literally exhausted, I passed out on this gorgeous, sweet, rich man's chest as if it were the best—and most expensive—pillow I'd ever rested my head on.