Page 8 of Jaz
Chapter Three
Sitting across from her, watching her dig into the plate of plain, buttermilk pancakes, Jaz had some serious regrets. They could’ve gone to his place for pancakes. He could have had her naked in his kitchen. Well, naked with boots on …
Holy fuck those boots.
He could have settled her on his countertop to lick, eat, and fuck her with his tongue.
Hell, he’d love to take her on the hood of his car, on the trunk, in the seats, up against the door.
And all the while he tortured himself with those images, she ate her birthday treat. Or one of them. Oblivious to his thoughts and desires.
He wanted the next piece of meat she put in her mouth to be his cock, not bacon. He wanted the next drink she took to be from his cock, not from the glass of milk in front of her. He wanted the next wipe of her mouth to be from his tongue, not from the napkin in her lap.
He wanted to be the feast she devoured.
The hots he’d had for her all these months hadn’t tempered at all from their fuck earlier, not that he’d expected them to. He’d spent too long imagining her dark hair spread out on his pillows. Wanting those boots hooked around his hips. Those eyes as he pushed inside her. Except now that he'd seen her without theKatzcostume, those hots threatened to boil over. She was so real in all her reactions, so honest in her actions, and he’d finally tasted those lips he’d wanted for so long. He’d held her delectable body against his and she fit so perfect. And the spark in her eyes when she—
“What’s wrong?”
Jaz wasn’t sure he could find his voice. “Nothing, why?”
“You’re staring at me like … It’s the look you would give me atKatz, like you wanted to eat me instead of the food you were ordering.”
“Like it or hate it?”
She blushed again and his dick hardened more than he thought possible.
“Kinda like it.”
“Good.” He took a bite of his own pancakes, blueberry with blueberry and maple syrup but minus the whipped cream. He needed to occupy his mouth or he’d pull her across the table and take a bite out of her.
He still watched her, though, never taking his eyes from her face. He couldn’t get over how much he loved seeing her this way, without all the makeup, without the wig, without the contacts. Even at one in the morning she looked so beautiful, so fresh, and she was so wrong. He wasn’t looking at her like he did atKatzon the nights she waited his table. No, he was pretty sure the look in his eyes was much stronger now, much darker, much hotter. He wanted to eat her alive, for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Then … He wanted to snack on her. He wanted to nibble at her lips, at her inner thighs, behind her knees and dive into the secrets of her bellybutton.
He needed something else to focus on. “How long have you and Jackie been friends?”
“We met in high school, were sort of friends. I helped her out with her homework and when I went off to college, she …”
“She went into adult entertainment,” he finished for her.
She nodded. “Yeah. She liked it though. I think she liked being a stripper. To a point. She liked the money, liked the girls, liked the attention. And she had a figure, which made her even more money.”
Jaz knew and understood all that. He’d hated Jackie working the pole, doing private parties. She’d been his sister, for shit’s sake. His foster sister, but blood or no blood didn’t change how they felt about one another. Mandi was right. Jackie loved what she did and she’d never regretted the choices she made. Hell,Katzwas a booming business.
“She talked about you, you know. In letters. While I was at college and she was working, we wrote letters a lot. She said you made her promise to take self-defense classes. I’m glad you did. I worried about her.”
Jaz shrugged. “I wasn’t around to protect her, to stand up for her. I needed to know she could defend herself.”
“That’s what she said. That’s why she did it, why she promised.”
“Did she tell you why I couldn’t be there for her?”
“Yes.”
And she took that moment, that one serious moment and used that tongue of hers on her fork. It snaked out and licked at a drop of liquid sugar before it could drip back to the plate. His dick ached under the table and he forced himself not to reach down and adjust it. The damn woman was hell on him.
“It doesn’t bother you?” he managed to croak out.
“What? That you were in jail for a bit? No. Should it?”
