The Cinderella Moment

Chapter Fourteen

"Jack," she squeaked in utter surprise.

"Were you expecting someone else?"

"I thought it was my dad."

"Can I come in?"

"Um, okay." She stepped aside and let him into her hallway, then into the lounge room.

"Got any beer?" he asked her.

"Yes," she said, looking at him for a beat, before she went over to her fridge and got him one.

He twisted it open and took a long pull. "Thanks," he said. "I needed that."

"What are you doing here, Jack?"

"I just wanted to apologise. I was in a shitty mood today, and I took it out on you a bit."

"You always do," she mumbled.

"No, I don't."

"You're always telling me off for something."

"I could say the same about you."

He was right, Sally acknowledged.

"Okay, this argument is stupid," he continued, when she said nothing. "I came here to apologise."

"Jack, are you having an affair with Mia?"

"What? No. She was just giving me a hug to thank me. That's what you saw. I knew you were going to jump to conclusions."

Sally said nothing, just moved over to the fridge to get herself a beer, since she now needed one. She took a swig, before she turned around again and smashed straight into Jack, who was standing behind her. She put the beer down on the table. "Jack!"

"Why the fuck do you wear these awful clothes, Sally?" He stared at her, before he did something she was totally not expecting. He dacked her, pulling her trackies clean off her hips with such speed that they pooled around her ankles.

"Because they're comfortable!" she yelled at him, bending down to pull them up.

"I hate those clothes. I liked the black dress."

"Why does it matter if I wear trackies or a black dress?" Sally cried out, still trying desperately to redress.

"Because the black dress makes me hard, Sally. Trackies don't."

"What?" she gasped, stopping to look at him, her pants bunched in her hands somewhere around her thighs.

But, he didn't say anything else. He pulled her against him, rubbing his erection against her undies. "At least you've got your nice underwear on," he murmured salaciously, circling his hips and moving her with him.

Sally didn't know what to do. She was angry with him, but so turned on at the same time. It shouldn't have been anything new to Sally. Jack had been creating those warring emotions within her for as long as she could remember—the only difference was, this time, he was rubbing his cock against her. She spread her legs apart, and he moved in closer, pulling her against his frame. She moved her hands up to his shoulders so that she could hold on, and her pants fell to her ankles again. Annoyed, she kicked them off completely. The close contact prompted Jack to lean his head down to hers. But, he didn't kiss her.

"Jack," she pleaded.

"What do you want, Sally?"

"I want you to kiss me."

"No."

"What?" She blinked at him.

"I want you to kiss me first."