How to Marry Your Frenemy - London Casey Page 0,48
we can work something out. In fact, I had an idea-”
“Jackson, shut up,” I yelled.
He lifted his eyebrow. “Wow. This has you worked up.”
“I just want you to stop talking. How do I do that?”
“Put a tit in my mouth.”
“A tit in your mouth?” I asked.
“Yeah. You asked. I answered.”
My breasts began to tingle, almost arguing with one another over who would get the attention from Jackson’s terrible mouth.
I took a deep breath. “What I’m trying to say, Jackson, is that Derrick and I were always just a casual thing.”
“A casual fuck.”
“Sure. A causal fuck. Last time we were hanging out, I made a few comments and I guess he took it as though I maybe wanted a relationship with him. I hadn’t seen him since then. I had no intentions of seeing him. Maybe.”
“Maybe?” Jackson asked.
“That’s the catch.”
“What is?”
“I promised to go to an event with him,” I said. “Not as a date. Not as a couple. More of a plus one sort of thing.”
“So cancel it.”
“I can’t. It’s for his parents. They’re prominent people.”
“So you’re telling me that some guy shows up to your office, kisses you, and you’re going out on a date with him? And I’m supposed to be okay with that? You don’t think that’s going to fuck up what we’re doing here?”
“No,” I said. “Because you know about it now. It’s a work event. That’s how we spin it.”
“A work event. Why would I go along with it?”
“You don’t have a choice,” I said. “I’m going to this event. It’s a charity ball. Okay? I said I would go. I’ll walk around, talk to a few people, show my face, avoid Derrick, and then come home to my loving and adoring husband.”
Jackson rubbed his jaw. “Did you tell him you’re married?”
“Not yet.”
“He was in your office.”
“He was trying to hump me on my desk.”
Jackson slammed his beer bottle down on the counter. “You know what, Callie? The first thing you said to me after we got hitched was to not fuck this up for you. How about you do the same for me. Don’t fuck this up for me.”
Jackson walked to the opposite end of the kitchen to get away from me.
I hurried to block his path. “Wait a second, Jackson.”
“Not interested,” he said.
He grabbed my hips and picked me up.
We were eye level for a second.
He moved me aside and put me down.
I grabbed his arm and sank my nails into his skin.
He froze and pulled his arm, making me crash into him.
“The only time I want you to scratch me… is when I’m fucking you and your nails are clawing at my back.”
There was jealousy written all over his face.
He walked away toward the bathroom.
That was my cue to get out of the apartment.
I took my beer and took a breath.
An angry, jealous Jackson was really, REALLY sexy.
It was a move of total desperation.
I knew we shared a bathroom wall.
My bathroom was just off the kitchen and his was just off the guest bedroom.
I stood in my bathroom doorway, lights off, for a good minute, trying to debate what to do.
I knew what I wanted to do.
I knew what I needed to do.
I knew what I had to do.
The fact was… I was alone. In the comfort of my new apartment. I could do anything I wanted to do.
So what if I walked into the bathroom, alone, in the dark? So what if I put my ear to the wall so I could hear the shower water running in Jackson’s shower? So what if I shut my eyes and let my hand slide down the front of my pants as I pictured him rubbing his body with his hands…
His big, strong hands. Gliding up and down his hard skin. His right hand going down, down, down, moving over the thick, flaccid length of his cock. Cupping his hand over his cock, barely able to cover it all up. Leaving the imagination to run wild as to what that cock looked like when it was erect and full.
I bit my bottom lip and did everything I thought about doing.
I could hear the water running next door without putting my ear to the wall.
Which was perfect.
I put my left hand flat against the wall and shut my eyes.
My right hand eased down the front of my pants and panties. I took a deep breath as my body tingled with more anxiety than excitement. My fingertips felt grizzly stubble and I made a mental note