No Strings

Chapter 9

Ordinary run of the mill sex. For some reason that phrase kept going round and round in my head as I lay in my bed, Jake fast asleep next to me. I had never seen Jake sleep before. After screwing me he usually left like a highly satisfying deluxe version of 'wham bam thank you ma'am'. But tonight here he was, his uninjured cheek pressed into the pillow, dark eyelashes resting on his tanned skin. He was so gorgeous. Even with that angry bruise which seemed to be turning darker as the moments passed. Such a masculine man with that permanent stubble but his skin was soft and his lips were plump and it was hard to look at him without wanting to kiss him. 

What a strange mood he was in tonight. He'd fucked me without saying a word. From the moment I had opened the door to the moment he passed out, he hadn't said a single thing, not even one of his usual groaned obscenities. Even when he came he had just sighed heavily and slumped slightly, his dark head bending towards mine before he had moved off me and collapsed heavily onto the mattress. A couple of minutes later he was asleep. It was nice to know he was mortal. I had often wondered. Nina's nickname for him stemmed from the truth after all. Sex God. The gorgeous man who swooped down on me, fucked me into oblivion and then swooped away. But now here he was, passed out with exhaustion, and suddenly very human.

He muttered something in his sleep and flung out his arm, whacking me across one boob. My startled cry obviously woke him because he opened his eyes and attempted to sit up, his expression adorably confused.

"Sarah?" he mumbled, blinking at me and rubbing a hand over his scalp. Then he promptly lay down again and stared blankly upwards, attempting to regain some composure.
"You fell asleep," I said. "I wasn't going to wake you. You look like you needed it."

He blinked a few times but didn't move.

"That bruise looks painful," I said. "Did someone hit you?"

He stirred now, pulled the duvet further over himself. "Yeh, someone did."

Our first pillow talk session was going just great. Absolutely swimmingly. It was a crying shame we'd never tried it before. I nearly laughed, but decided that Jake wasn't up for levity. 

Then he turned his head and fixed me with his steady blue gaze making my heart trip over itself. Suddenly I didn't feel like laughing myself anymore.

"I've had a totally shitty day," he said in a sleep drenched voice that went straight to my nipples, and his hand came up and gently played with a lock of my hair that was curled over the pillow. He shifted until he was lying on his side and his lips turned up in a shy smile. "But it just got a hell of a lot better."

He bent his knees and draping one leg over mine used it to pull me closer to him. His skin radiated heat under the duvet and the smell of him was making me a little light headed. Those plump lips I had been staring at just a few minutes ago were now in reach and ... oh god ... he was kissing me. Jake never kissed me but now his lips were on mine and they were so sweet and soft, and his hands were buried in my hair as he totally stole my composure. I was panting under him, grabbing at him, gasping against his mouth as he rolled me over and burned a trail of tender kisses across my jaw and down my throat, his hands still tangled in my hair. His lips closed deliciously around one nipple but I wanted him back mouth against mouth in a connection we'd never had before. That primal connection was addictive. And he came back, fusing his mouth with mine and I thought for a moment that we might never stop, that we couldn't stop, it was just too good.

But then from somewhere in the distance came the insistent chiming of a bell. At first I thought it was in my head. I thought that Jake's breathtaking kisses were actually making bells ring, like some triumphant refrain, but then I felt him stiffen slightly and realised that he could hear it too. It didn't stop him kissing me though, his fists just held on tighter and he groaned in protest, his tongue pushing more insistently into my mouth.

Then the ringing turned into knocking, furious heavy pounding and Jake tore himself away from me and we both lay there, chests heaving as we listened to someone who was clearly intent on breaking my bloody door down.

"Fucking hell," Jake muttered as he peeled his body away from mine and got out of bed.

For some reason I couldn't move. I had some idea who might be making that God awful racket, but for some reason I just lay there and watched Jake pull on his jeans, not bothering to do up the fly. "Fucking shut it!" he yelled angrily and stalked out of the bedroom which prompted me into instant action. I grabbed my robe from the hook on the back of the door and struggled into it as I followed Jake's broad back down the hall and across the living room. He was already yanking the door open by the time I had reached him.

Paul was on the other side, his fist raised in the act of pounding, his angry red face frozen in surprise. He too obviously took in the muscular chest in front of him and the undone jeans, and said, "Who the fuck are you?"