Jacob went completely rigid. The veins in his thick neck popped, his broad chest heaving against mine, but he didn't move a muscle. His jaw locked so hard I thought his teeth might shatter, his dark eyes burning with terrifying, white-knuckled restraint.
He's actually trying to hold back.
The realization didn't sober me up; it only threw gasoline on the alcohol-fueled heat pooling heavy and dark in my belly. If he wasn't going to snap, I was going to break him myself.
I shifted on purpose, tracing the hard, sweat-slicked ridges of his abs right down to the waistband of his jeans. My fingers grazed the cold metal button of his fly. "Stop thinking," I breathed against his jaw, my nails lightly scraping his stubble.
Before I could pop the button, the sharp clack of the kitchen light flicking on flooded the patio with a harsh glare.
My heart leaped into my throat. She had come back downstairs.
Jacob reacted with the terrifying, lightning-fast reflexes of a pro fighter. Before I could even drag in a breath, his hands clamped around my waist like steel vises. He didn't just lift me—he vaulted us both backward into the shadows.
We tumbled over the back of the heavy leather lounge chair, landing silently on the soft, manicured grass tucked deeply between the patio furniture and the tall, impenetrable privacy hedges.
I wound up pinned flat against the dirt, totally caged beneath his trembling frame. His calloused hand instantly clamped over my mouth, swallowing the terrified squeak bubbling in my throat.
The sliding glass door rattled open. Mom stepped out into the humid night air.
"Sneaking around in the dark..." she muttered, her slippers clicking against the patio stones, drawing way too close to our hiding spot.
Cloaked by the pitch-black shadows of the hedges, Jacob's body was a solid wall of heat pressing me into the grass. His face was buried in the crook of my neck, his hot, ragged breaths searing my skin. I was trapped seamlessly beneath him, my legs parted instinctively to accommodate his narrow hips. The heavy, straining ridge of his erection pressed flawlessly against the aching, sensitive juncture of my thighs. Every time one of us so much as took a breath, the microscopic friction was sweet, devastating torture.
Mom paused. Her footsteps stopped.
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," Mom gasped loudly. "My twenty-year-old bourbon? And the imported cherry liqueur?"
I squeezed my eyes shut, my pulse hammering so hard against my ribs I was terrified Mom would hear it. Jacob's thumb stroked a trembling, unconscious line along my jaw, his hips shifting just a fraction of an inch against mine as he braced his weight. A helpless whimper died against his palm.
"You think you're clever, huh? Stealing my best liquor and making a run for it?" Mom called out, her voice dripping with playful annoyance. She was standing no more than three feet away, right on the other side of the leather lounge chair. "A couple of teenagers... Oh, just you wait. I'm going to catch both of you, and when I do, there will be hell to pay!"
She gathered her surviving bottles into her arms, clutching them to her chest like she was hoarding solid gold.
I pressed my mouth tightly into the hot crook of Jacob's neck to muffle the sound, my shoulders shaking with silent, breathless giggles.
But with every suppressed shake of my body, my hips dragged right against his.
I deliberately arched my back. Sliding my hand slowly down between our bodies, I let my fingertips boldly trace the straining ridges of his abs until my knuckles purposefully brushed the impossibly tight zipper of his jeans.
Jacob stopped breathing entirely. His body turned to stone. A sharp, ragged intake of air burned against my skin, and I felt his jaw lock with enough force to shatter bone. He squeezed his eyes shut, his massive frame trembling as he desperately choked back the raw, guttural groan that would have instantly given us away. His fingers dug deep into the dirt beside my head.
Her footsteps finally retreated. The sliding door slid shut, and the heavy deadbolt clicked into place.
His restraint snapped.
"You want to play games, Ruby?" he rasped, his voice a low, dark whisper that sent a wicked shiver right down to my toes. "Touching me like that while your mother is standing three feet away... Did you want her to hear me? Is that it? You want her to catch us right here?"
I nodded frantically against his palm, completely abandoning all shame, writhing against him in the shadows.
He finally removed his hand from my mouth, only to grip both of my wrists, pinning them securely above my head with a single, unyielding fist. "Then you're going to take exactly what you asked for."
His mouth crashed down on mine.
His tongue swept past my parted lips, tasting like top-shelf bourbon and raw demand. A helpless moan tore from my throat as his free hand gripped my bare thigh, hauling my leg up to hook tightly around his thick waist.
He pressed his hips down hard, grinding the stiff length of his jeans right into the soaking wet, aching core of my body. My back arched off the grass, a desperate sob of pure pleasure breaking against his mouth as our bodies slotted together perfectly.
His calloused hand slid aggressively up my inner thigh, the rough, familiar texture of his boxing scars grazing my hypersensitive skin. He hooked his fingers under the hem of my shorts, his knuckles brushing right against the soaked cotton of my panties.
"I knew it," he murmured, his voice dropping into a raspy, sinful whisper that sent a fresh shiver straight to my core. "Always looking at me with those eyes... so damn hungry. Thinking about your stepdaddy doing exactly this to you."
A helpless, strangled moan broke from my lips. I tried to lift my hips, but his crushing weight kept me pinned to the grass, completely at his mercy.
"You wanted this so bad," he cajoled, his thumb slipping beneath the elastic of my shorts to press firmly against my swollen center. "I felt you trembling earlier. You’ve been a bad, bad girl, coveting what belongs to your mother."
He nipped at my shoulder blade, just hard enough to sting, before pressing his hips down again, grinding the rigid denim relentlessly against me.
"And now you've finally got him, haven't you?" he rasped, his eyes completely blown black as he pulled back to look down at me. "Your stepdaddy, right where you wanted him. Completely at your mercy."
He didn't bother being gentle. With a sharp, sudden pull, the thin fabric of my panties tore slightly as he dragged them down my legs, tossing them blindly into the dark grass. The cool night air hit my exposed skin for barely a second before his heavy palm replaced it, covering my aching center entirely. He pressed two thick fingers directly against my slick, swollen folds, and I completely shattered.
A high, keening gasp tore from my lips as he thrust his fingers deep inside me. I thrashed beneath him, my nails digging into the broad, muscular expanse of his back, blindly scratching at his skin as white-hot waves of pleasure crashed through my body. He swallowed my cries with another punishing kiss, his thumb finding the sensitive bundle of nerves above and pressing down with a relentless, maddening rhythm.
"So fucking responsive," he praised, his voice a dark, gravelly rumble that vibrated against my lips. "Look at you falling apart just from my fingers. Imagine what I'm going to do to you with my cock."
I couldn't speak. I could barely breathe. My hips chased his hand, begging for more, completely consumed by the sensory overload of his weight, his scent, and the raw, animalistic possession in his touch.
With a harsh groan, Jacob withdrew his hand, the sudden emptiness leaving me whining in protest. But he was already shifting his frame, bracing one knee in the dirt between my thighs. His hands went to his belt. The heavy metal buckle clinked loudly in the quiet yard, followed by the agonizingly slow, metallic rasp of his zipper.
When he sprang free, the sheer size and blistering heat of him brushing against my thigh made my breath catch in my throat. I stared up at him in the dim, ambient glow of the patio lights filtering through the hedges. He looked like a god of war—chest heaving, muscles corded and glistening with sweat, his dark eyes pitch-black with lust.
He reached down, his large hands gripping my hips to angle me perfectly beneath him. He was impossibly thick, the blunt tip of him pressing right against my slick, aching entrance. A delicious, terrifying pressure built as he pushed in just a fraction of an inch, stretching me wide.
"Wrap your legs around me, baby," he commanded hoarsely. To support his immense weight for the final, deep thrust, he blindly reached out his forearm, bracing it heavily against the side table hidden in the shadows next to the lounge chair.
I hooked my ankles obediently behind his waist, crying out softly as he surged forward, sinking fiercely into my tight, burning heat.
But in that exact, explosive second, his arm knocked into the crystal cocktail glass I had left sitting on the edge of the table.
CRASH.
The sharp sound of shattering glass exploding across the patio stones.
Then, the heavy deadbolt abruptly clicked. The sliding glass door rattled along its tracks, sliding wide open.
"Ruby? Jacob?" Mom's voice pierced the night, accompanied by the blinding glare of the outdoor floodlights suddenly snapping on, bathing the yard in harsh, unforgiving white light.