Ride Me Dirty(13)

"Katie," Jack said.

I opened my eyes, looked up at him, whimpered.

"Come now."

He pinched my clit. Hard. I should have hated it, should have been  stunned he'd done something so painful. Turned out, it wasn't painful at  all. Or it was the most exquisitely painful pleasure I'd ever felt and I  came. I screamed, my body milking Sam's cock, trying to pull him  impossibly deeper into me.

He panted as his pleasure waned, holding himself so far into me surely Jack could feel him against his palm on my belly.

Jack took me in his arms as Sam pulled out, tugging another whimper from  me. Jack tucked me in beside him on the bed, my cheek resting on his  chest, one arm over his waist. Sam had gone to the en suite bathroom to  dispose of the condom, but returned quickly and moved to lay behind me. I  was still between them and I felt …  well used, well fucked. Protected.

My eyes were too heavy to open, my body too replete to do more than idly  swirl my fingers through the hair on Jack's chest. I couldn't even  think of any reason why what we'd just done was a bad idea. I knew the  thoughts would eventually surface, but not now.

Sam kissed my shoulder. "Sleep, doll. You're going to need it."





CHAPTER FIVE



SAM



As I expected, when the sun came up, so did every one of Katie's walls.  Jack, used to getting up at the butt crack of dawn, was in the kitchen  when Katie stumbled down for coffee. I'd woken when she had, and soon  followed. I felt loose and relaxed in a way I hadn't felt in a long  while. A way that only several orgasms could achieve. Jack had the same  shit eating grin that I knew I wore.

How Katie was walking properly, especially in those sky high heels, was  beyond me. After I fucked her the first time, we took a little break  before she woke up to Jack's head buried between her thighs. We'd taken  her a few very creative ways-except at the same time-until she passed  out with exhaustion.

"Coffee," she muttered, standing beside the coffeemaker waiting for Jack  to pour her a cup. She grabbed onto the mug like a lifeline and  breathed in the rich scent before taking her first slip.

"Do you need-"

She held up her hand, cutting me off, as she stared at the steam coming off her drink. "No talking until I have coffee."

I nodded slowly, then took the mug that Jack handed me. He grinned and  we watched Katie drink her coffee, all rumpled and looking well fucked.         

     



 

It should have been an awkward silence, but either Katie's brain didn't  turn on until after coffee-something to remember-or she wasn't the least  bothered by tag teaming two men last night. When she put her empty mug  on the counter a few minutes later, it seemed it was a little of both.

"I guess I'm not getting my panties back?" she asked Jack, her voice that stern librarian tone again.

Shit. My cock thickened in my pants realizing she wasn't wearing anything beneath that cute skirt.

Jack grinned and slowly shook his head. "Nope. And, like I said last night, if you wear them around us, we'll keep taking them."

Her mouth fell open, but she quickly shut it. Narrowed her eyes. There  was the look. God, I loved that look. All ball withering and in complete  control. I wanted to take her right back upstairs and make that go  away. Nah, I could just bend her over the kitchen table.

"And my phone? If I see either of you again, will I be handing that over, too?"

"Not if. When." Jack crossed his arms over his chest and didn't smile.  "Sweetness, we might control you in the bedroom, but there's no way in  fucking hell we want to control your life. I couldn't juggle that many  balls if I were in the circus."

She opened her mouth to speak, but Jack shut her down. "But, if it's  after business hours and you're working your tail off, then the answer's  hell yes, we'll take your phone."

Katie held out her hand and practically tapped her foot on the kitchen floor waiting.

Jack pulled the phone from his shirt pocket-he was the only one of us  wearing fresh clothes since we were in his house-and handed it to her.

Spinning on her heel, she walked out of the kitchen with her head down,  her fingers flying over the screen. Her heels clicked on the wood floors  to the front door as she started talking to herself.

I looked to Jack and he just smiled and shook his head once more. "She talks to herself when she's stressed."

"There's no service here!" she called, her voice angry and panicked at  the same time. "I can't check my email. No texts. No voicemail messages.  It's after nine in New York. Do you have any idea-"

"Woman," I shouted, putting my mug on the granite counter. "Chill the fuck out and I'll get you back to civilization."

"Keys to the truck are by the door. Tonight?" Jack asked before I walked out.

I grinned. "Winding her down is going to be a nightly occurrence."







"Are we going to pretend last night never happened?" I asked.

I'd taken her back to her rental car in the bar's parking lot and  ensured she sped off in the direction of her uncle's house before I  turned toward the office. Three hours later as she sat across from me at  my desk, she didn't have that mussed up, I-just-had-sex look about her.  Which was terrible. I liked it much better than her hair pulled back  neatly in a ponytail-one which I'd love to grab hold of as I fucked her  from behind …  again-and another prim blouse and skirt. Her heels were  gone and in their place a pair of purple flats. I'd never seen shoes  that color in Montana before.

She lifted her head from the papers before her to look at me. "I'm reading legal documents. Do you want me to pant over them?"

My eyebrows went up, then couldn't help but grin. "That would certainly make being it better."

She rolled her eyes and got back to reading. While her cell was on the  desk in front of her, she'd set it to silent when she sat down, knowing  that while this wasn't her job, it was why she'd flown across two time  zones. She was in lawyer mode. I respected her focus, but wished she  took the same principal to task in her personal life, putting value to  it.

"They're standard forms. The quit claim deed transfers the property to  you today. If we get them signed before noon-" I stressed this as she  was taking a damn long time to go over them. "-the courthouse can file  them before end of day."

"You want me to chill the fuck out," she mumbled, shaking her head and  picking up the pen. With a flourish, she signed at all the designated  spots and slid the pile over to me.

"I was where you are, you know," I told her, lifting the papers and  tapping the bottom of them on the desk so they all lined up before  stuffing them in a yellow envelope. "I left Bridgewater when I was  eighteen, went to college, then law school on the west coast. I went  corporate, just like you. Did the whole eighty hours a week deal, the  partner track. No life. Just worked my ass off for three years. Cell  phones, email, texting, IM, deadlines, heartburn pills, I know all of  it."

I had her attention. "Why did you come back here then?"         

     



 

"Because one of my dads had a heart attack. A small one, and he's fine  now. But I came back for about a month to help out and realized I didn't  need to live with the insanity. It was sucking the life from me, so I  walked."

"Didn't you want to make partner?" she wondered.

I shrugged. "That was what drove me for so long, like a carrot dangled  in front of my face, then realized I didn't really want it. It was time  to come home to my family."

"Yeah, well, my parents aren't a ray of sunshine." I waited, hoping  she'd add to that. "They're thrilled I'm a lawyer because they're  lawyers. They think this time before partner is called paying my dues."  She lifted her hands and made those curled finger air quotes.

"Why don't you go into practice with them?"

She laughed. "I'm guessing your family had dinner every night together.  You do Sunday dinners, spend Christmas wearing ugly sweaters, right?"

I nodded. "The ugly sweaters only come out for the holiday party, not on the actual day itself," I clarified.

She, too, nodded slowly. "My parents are retired and travel. I see them  about twice a year for lunch when they are in the city to switch out  their clothes in their luggage from summer- to winter-wear. Last  Christmas they were in Hong Kong. I ate a frozen dinner while watching  football on TV. And I worked."

"Of course," I added. Of course, she worked on Christmas. Fuck. The idea  of her being alone in New York while I was with my parents and cousins,  aunts and uncles was a sucker punch to the gut.

"We aren't huggers or Sunday dinner people." She sighed, sat back in her  chair. I didn't see any sadness about her, just resignation. She was  resigned to having shitty parents, to being alone. "Besides the two  meals a year, I get a phone call when my mother hears about an update to  the Law Journal. We're not much of a family."