You Don't Know Jack

“Doesn’t mean I can’t make you come.”

Allison watched Jonathon rush Jamie off the dance floor as if someone had yelled fire, and felt something akin to jealousy. Not over Jonathon. She had been serious when she’d said he wasn’t her type. Too restless, too intense.

There couldn’t be two divas in a relationship, and she had diva down pat.

But a little sex before she died would be welcome.

“It might be quicker if he just threw her over his shoulder,” Finn commented.

“Hmmm?”

“Your friend and Caroline’s brother. With him dragging and her digging in her heels, I’m just suggesting it might be easier if he picked her up.”

Allison studied Finn. She wasn’t sure what Caroline found so objectionable about him. Besides the scraggly hair and the five-o’clock shadow that never seemed to disappear, he was attractive and filled his tux well. He hadn’t burped or told any off-color jokes, and Allison hadn’t caught him smoking a joint in the coat closet.

Yet. “Is that what you would do? Go all caveman on a woman?” Personally, Allison thought she’d shove a stiletto up the ass of any man who tried to haul her anywhere. But that was just her.

“Nah. I’m the moody, artistic type. I’m more likely to forget we even have a date in the first place. I get absorbed in what I’m painting and forget the real world exists.”

Maybe that was what Caroline objected to. She revered punctuality and thought Thou Shalt Not Daydream should be a late addition to the ten commandments.

“Do you sleep with your models?” Allison asked as they glided around to the longest piece of music ever composed. God, she hated dancing. But at least Finn wasn’t staring at her chin, the way it usually played out at weddings. She was convinced every man over five-foot-ten was married.

There had to be statistics on it, with the proportion of men married decreasing with every inch under six foot. No woman wanted to look like an Amazon next to her man, and Allison thought it was damn rude that short women ran around snagging men ten inches taller than them, when in all fairness, those guys should have been left alone for the tall girls to pick over.

Finn laughed. “Well, I don’t sleep with the men I paint. But of course I sleep with all the women. Wouldn’t you?” He winked at her.

Okay, so it had been a stupid question. But she was kind of curious. The idea of having male models strip at her direction had a certain appeal. “Not the women. But the men, sure I would. At least that way you get to check out the goods first.”

“You’re a mercenary little thing, aren’t you?” The corner of his mouth lifted.

Allison didn’t like his tone. “So is your cousin, Brad. He worships at the altar of accumulate.”

At times, Allison wasn’t completely convinced that wasn’t why Brad had married Caroline. To gather the prettiest, proper society wife, who would balance a career and a family and leave him free to do whatever he felt like.

“If you have the money, why not?”

But he didn’t look like he meant it.

And Allison decided this guy was probably a better match for Jamie than Jonathon. Not that Jonathon looked like he’d be willing to give Jamie up anytime soon.

“So you think Caroline and Brad will live happily ever after in banker’s bliss?”

He flicked his hair out of his eyes and gave her a wild spin that was dangerous in a strapless dress. “What do I know? I’m just the artist cousin with his head in the clouds.”

“Whatever, brush boy.”

Chapter 19

Jack wasn’t going to have sex with Jamie in the retiring room. He really meant that.

But he couldn’t stop himself from giving her pleasure, a little taste of what he could give her later, if she came home with him.

Her breasts had burst eagerly out of the dress with barely any effort from him, and he was staring at her bare chest, creamy flesh, and dusky apricot nipples.

“Jack!” she said in shock. “You can’t do that. We’ll never get them back in.”

He grabbed her hands before she could stuff her breasts back into her dress. “Maybe they want a little fresh air.”

She laughed. “They don’t have a brain, they can’t think for themselves.”

“I don’t know. They seem to have a mind of their own…you’re telling me to stop and they’re looking pretty ready to go.” Jack plucked at one very tight nipple, his mouth going dry.

Jamie sighed. “Betrayed by my breasts. What can I say? But the breasts don’t always know best.”

“In this case, I think they’re smarter than their owner. They know sometimes you just have to feel.” Like he was. He wasn’t thinking, he was just feeling. Going with gut instinct. Jack ran his lips over her nipple, the taut pebble gliding over his flesh.

“Their owner?” Jamie said, a hitch in her voice. “That sounds completely bizarre. Like they’re pets. Like I could take them for a walk, feed them, play fetch. Though I have to say I’ve always kind of thought of them as beasts. Big monsters that shouldn’t really be there.”

“Not a healthy view to take of your own body. You need to make peace with your breasts, embrace them. Learn to love them the way I do. See, wouldn’t I make a good social worker?” Jack took her hand and placed it over her bare flesh. “Just feel it. Isn’t it just the most sexy thing you’ve ever touched?” He put his hand over hers, pushed them both forward a little, squeezing and cupping her with both their fingers.

“Touching you is sexier,” she said, and her free hand slid across the front of his tux pants.

Holy crap, he hadn’t been expecting her to do that. Jack gave a little groan.

“But now we need to get back to the reception before your mother comes looking for us.”

Now, there was a scary thought. “Okay, okay, we’ll go back. But promise me you’ll spend the night with me.”

Her eyes were glassy with desire, darkened with something else, an emotion Jack couldn’t quite pinpoint. “I’ll spend the night with you.”

“Thank you.” He kissed her softly. Then deeper. Then harder.

Every little taste made him want more. Jack trailed his lips over her warm flesh, down to her breasts, wanting just one last lick to tide him over until they could decently ditch out of the reception and head home.

Only she moaned. Which spurred his own desire. Which led him to give another lick. Then a suck. Which escalated into tugging and nipping and groping.