Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 91216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
“Get it together,” I mutter to myself, taking a long sip of wine. “He’s just a guy. A hot, charming guy who probably has no idea what he’s getting himself in to.”
I try to focus on my work, but the words on the screen blur together. Instead, I find myself imagining what our date might be like. Would Jack be shocked by my dark humor? Would he be disgusted if he knew the things I think about, the things I crave?
My hand unconsciously drifts to my neck, fantasizing about the feeling of being choked, controlled. God, I crave that in someone . . . someone like Jack. The thrill, the danger, the exquisite balance of pain and pleasure.
I shake my head, trying to dispel the thoughts. There’s no way Jack, with his boy-next-door charm and heroic job, would be into anything like that. He’d probably run screaming if he knew the truth about me. But then I remember the intensity in his eyes when he said he wasn’t afraid of the dark. The way his voice dropped when he hinted at his own secrets.
I close my laptop, giving up on getting any work done tonight. My mind is too full of Jack and possibilities. I lean back on the couch, letting my imagination run wild.
I picture his strong firefighter’s hands gripping my throat, his eyes dark with desire. In my mind, he pins me against the wall, his body hard against mine. “Is this what you want?” fantasy Jack growls in my ear. “Is this dark enough for you?”
My breath quickens as the fantasy takes hold. I slip a hand beneath my waistband, finding myself already wet. As I touch myself, I imagine it’s Jack’s fingers, rough and demanding. In my mind, he takes control, pushing me to my knees, fisting his hand in my hair.
“Oh, God,” I moan softly, my fingers working faster. The fantasy is so vivid I can almost feel Jack’s presence, smell his scent—a mix of smoke and pine and pure masculinity.
I circle my clit with my fingers, imagining it his thumb. I pulse harder, the sensation intensifying, my body responding to the fantasy with a growing urgency.
In my mind, he speaks again, his voice low and demanding. “Do you want it rough, or sweet? Do you want to submit or take control?”
And I choose both. I imagine him tying me up, restraining me, forcing me to be vulnerable and powerless. In the same breath, I also envision his tender touch, his lips tracing delicate patterns on my skin, whispering promises of pleasure and pain intertwined.
My hips buck involuntarily as the fantasy intensifies. I’m so close now, teetering on the edge of release. In my mind, Jack’s hands roam my body, alternating between gentle caresses and forceful grips. His mouth claims mine in a searing kiss, then travels down my neck, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.
“Please,” I whimper, both to the Jack in my mind and to the empty room around me.
Fantasy Jack smirks, a wicked glint in his eyes. “Please what? Use your words.”
I arch my back, my fingers working faster, mimicking what I imagine his touch would feel like. “Please . . . I need . . .”
“What do you need?” His voice is a low growl that sends shivers down my spine.
“You,” I gasp. “I need you. All of you. The darkness, the light, everything.”
In my mind, he rewards my honesty with a bruising kiss, his hands everywhere at once. I’m lost in the sensations, real and imagined blurring together. The tension builds, a coiling spring ready to snap.
“Come for me,” fantasy Jack commands.
I’m close to the edge when suddenly, my phone buzzes. I jump, startled out of my reverie. It’s a text from Jack.
Sweet dreams, it reads. Looking forward to our date. P.S. I like my lo mein extra spicy. Hope you can handle the heat.
I stare at the message, my heart racing. Is he flirting? Or am I reading too much into it, seeing innuendo where there is none?
I type out several responses, deleting each one. Finally, I settle on, I can handle more heat than you’d expect, Fireman Jack. Sweet dreams to you too.
As I hit send, I wonder if I’ve said too much, revealed too much of my true self. But then I remember the look in Jack’s eyes, the hint of something deeper, darker. Maybe, just maybe, there’s more to Jack than meets the eye.
And maybe, just maybe, I’m ready to find out.
Chapter Fourteen
Chloe
“Your last post was epic!” Sloane says the minute I answer the phone. She never wastes time with a “hello” or “how are you?” It’s straight to business with Sloane.
“You think?” I ask, fishing for the compliment. I’ve been feeling down lately due to lower views, and her praise really does mean the world. Not just as a friend but as someone who actually works for the company.