Willa: Looping Violet in on this chat to get the full picture. What’s the over-under on sweet little Sloane and moody hockey boy hooking up before they get back to Chestnut Springs?
Summer: Why are you so invested in this?
Willa: No one deserves the last name Woodcock. He’d have to look like Henry Cavill and fuck like Peter North for me to overlook that.
Violet: Ew. Have you seen Peter North? So tanned. So greasy.
Willa: That’s why I said he’d have to look like Henry Cavill.
Summer: Hold, please. Googling Peter North.
Violet: Lmao. Careful.
Summer: Well, he does seem . . . talented. I’m not mad at it.
Willa: I’m only mad at Sloane for not responding.
Violet: Based on the way her and Jasper have been staring at each other, I think she might be busy.
Sloane: Y’all are a bunch of nosy, dirty bitches.
Summer: Where’s the lie?
Willa: Just tell us! On a scale of one to Peter North, how big is Jasper’s D?
I step out of the shower for what feels like the hundredth time since Jasper and I started fucking. It would seem that making a mess of me is his new favorite pastime. And I’m definitely not complaining.
“Get on the bed,” I hear from behind me.
A shiver runs down my spine before I even turn to face him. The bite in his voice has my core twisting with anticipation, and when I turn to look at him, I get wet instantly.
He is mouthwatering in boxers and an open flannel shirt. I can see my tattoo peeking out over his ribs, and I’m hit with a blinding flash of jealousy, one that scratches painfully at the back of my throat as I wonder how many women have run their hands over that tattoo.
“Am I the only one?” I blurt, ignoring his order to get on the bed.
His head tilts, and he appears almost predatory now. “The only one what?” I can tell he’s not in the mood for this conversation. I can tell when he’s let his head wander somewhere it shouldn’t have—and this look is that.
Jasper is on edge, probably about the drive home, and I’m pushing him anyway.
“In your life. That you’re with.” I clutch the plain white towel tighter around me like it might keep me safe from this very unsafe conversation I started.
“Get on the bed,” he repeats. “Now.”
I want to demand he answer me, but I also want to pretend I never mentioned this at all. I walk toward the bed and sit down on the edge, probably looking as pouty as I’m suddenly feeling.
Maybe it’s because our stay here is already over after two short days. This morning we packed and he hooked the truck back up to an empty trailer.
Maybe it’s because I had to say goodbye to Violet and everyone else this morning before they got back to work. I miss seeing my cousin. She’s my closest and most constant female friend.
Or maybe it’s just the hot fucking mess of these last couple of weeks piling up and making me feel a little emotionally wrung out.
“Lie down. But turn. I want your head at the side of the bed.”
I do as he says. The thrill of the way he commands me edging away the doubt in my mind. He’s still Jasper. My Jasper. The boy with the sad eyes and the heart of gold who I’ve trusted for years.
Lying here waiting, I hear him walk over. Within seconds he’s in my line of vision, towering above me. Eyes serious, jaw clenched.
He bends down and kisses me, tugging my wet hair to angle my head. This kiss isn’t soft or searching—it’s claiming.
When he decides it’s done, he pulls away and growls in my ear, “You’re the only one, Sloane. Don’t ever doubt that.”
His tone hedges no debate but I blurt out, “I know there have been—”
He cuts me off with a dismissive shake of his head. “We’re both adults, Sloane. Let’s not pretend we haven’t lived our lives. We’ve both been with other people. But the real question is . . .”
His thumb strokes my jawline as he tugs the towel away, exposing my body to him while his eyes devour every inch.
“The real question is, do any of those other people matter when I only ever see you? When I only ever think about you? When I’ve done nothing but become more and more obsessed with you since I was told to stay away from you?”
I whimper. Or moan. Or make some sort of noise you might make when someone punches you in the gut.
“Do they, Sloane? Do they matter? Does any of that seem like it matters in the face of what you and I have happening right now? In the face of eighteen years of friendship? In the face of wanting each other for so long? Is a single other person even a factor? Even a blip on the radar?”
“No,” I whisper instantly. When he puts it like that, no.
No. No. No. No. No.
“None of it matters.”
“That’s right.” His fingers trail over my lips. “The answer is no. None of that shit matters. Because we’re me and you. We’re us. Unlikely and inevitable all at once. We’re forever.”
I nod, willing away the sudden sting in my eyes. Because Jasper isn’t an overly emotional man, and that might be the first time I’ve really heard him admit what this all means to him.
What I mean to him.
With a quick squeeze to my throat, he murmurs against my hair, “Now hang your head off the edge of this bed and open your mouth.”
I watch in rapt fascination as his impressive cock bobs over me, his boxers discarded. Last night he shoved me to my knees and told me how to suck his cock, just like I asked him to. I came from his dirty words and the pressure of my thighs squeezing together while I sucked him off. It was definitely the first time anyone talked me into an orgasm.
I lick my lips as he drops his cock to my face and gently adjusts my positioning. Then he’s propped over my body, hands braced on the bed on either side of me.
The panels of his button-down shirt fall like curtains on either side of my face. I open my mouth eagerly, and his smooth length slides between my lips. His fresh and earthy scent swirls around me. It’s a heady combination.
“Play with your tits, Sloane. I wanna watch you while I take your mouth.”
I moan on his length and start plumping my breasts. Tweaking my nipples. Losing my mind as he sets a slow rhythm between my lips.
This angle is new for me, and my eyes water from how far back he’s able to push, but he’s always careful with me. Careful not to push too hard or too far. Careful not to hurt me or alarm me.
And yet he pushes me further than anyone ever has, which I love. At school I pushed myself harder. With ballet too.
“So fucking good. This hot little mouth, Sloane. Sucking dick like you were born for it. You have no idea how good you feel wrapped around my cock. It’s fucking addicting.”
He thrusts in hard, and I make a light gagging noise, tears blurring my vision as I pinch my nipples. “That too far, honey?”
I shake my head vigorously and hum on his length, squeezing my legs together and feeling the wetness between them slip. I mean, it is too far—logistically speaking.
But I’m into it. Really, really into it.
He chuckles, hand shaping my waist. “So fucking hungry.” His fingers rap lightly on the top of my thigh. “Open for me.”
His hand presses to the inside of my thigh, guiding it back to the bed so that I’m completely exposed to him as he steadily fucks my mouth. Far, but not so far that I gag again.
“Whose pussy is this, Sloane?”
He slaps it, and I can hear how wet I am over my moans. I offer a muffled “yours” from around his cock since he doesn’t pull back to offer me a reprieve.
“That’s right.” His voice is so low I almost don’t hear him. There’s too much. I feel too much.
He’s too much.
His expert fingers run through my core, and my hips buck toward him, lifting from the bed. I’m ready to come, ready to let him pull me apart piece by piece and watch it happen.
If I’ve learned anything in the last couple of days, it’s that Jasper enjoys telling me what to do and watching me do it.
That alone can get him hard. That alone can get me wet. So I guess it works for us. Just like this position does.
His cock is in my mouth and he’s matching that rhythm between my legs with only one finger. It’s not enough. I want more. I want that fullness when I explode. And I’m so damn close.
My body must give me away, the arousal dripping down my legs a perfect match for the saliva on my cheek.
“Do you love me stuffing you full, Sloane? It seems like you do.” He leans forward, pressing his wicked mouth to the top of my bare pussy. “Seems like you’ve been spoiled though.”
His scruff hits all the right nerves as he dusts his mouth over my lower stomach and makes me writhe beneath him. “A spoiled little princess who needs to learn some patience.”
With one last kiss to my navel, he withdraws from my body.
From the bed, from my space, from my mouth.
He leaves me empty, throbbing, and so fucking needy.
“Jasper!” I whimper his name. “Are you kidding me right now?”
I hear the rustling of clothes behind me before he says, “Let’s go, Sunny. We need to hit the road.”
“I just need—’
“Sloane.” The cool tone in his voice stops my hand from sliding further down my body. “I know I don’t need to tell you that you’re only allowed to touch my pussy when I say so.”
I can’t help it. I laugh and throw my hands over my face in exasperation. “Lord help me, Gervais. I wish I could go back and tell my teenage self what she’s in for ten years down the line. She’d have keeled over on the spot.”
I hear his deep chuckle, the one that warms me to my bones. The one that reminds me of the adolescent, bashful version of him. The one that’s still a facet of the complicated man he is today.
“If you go back, make sure you tell her she’s got drool on her face and that it’s time to get her fine ass out of bed.”
“I hate you,” I laugh back at him.
But I always laugh at the wrong moment. And right now I laugh because I don’t hate Jasper at all.
I love him. I love him like that girl ten years ago never could have imagined.
“Are you missing dancing?”
Our conversation started off stilted on our long drive home because all I could think about was holding Jasper down and riding his cock until I got this pesky consuming orgasm out of the way. Eventually his erection subsided and his jeans became less strained. Sadly for me, I think my underwear might not be salvageable.
But then we started talking about hockey, and I got interested in something besides the ache between my legs. He told me about his plans for when he gets back to Calgary. The training. The sports therapy. He eats specific types of meals, which sound like an awful lot of turkey and salmon.
His excitement is infectious. It’s so easy to get caught up in him when he’s animated and carefree like he is right now.
The sun is shining and the roads are perfect.
I cherish these moments with him.
“Not like I thought I might. Or well, I should say that I was, but I think I was only missing it because I would have rather been running through the same mindless choreography repeatedly while getting yelled at in Russian than planning a wedding to someone I didn’t want to marry.”
Oof. I really know how to kill a relaxed moment, don’t I? Jasper’s hands constrict momentarily on the steering wheel, and the silence is thick. I try to keep myself from laughing at how I just waltzed in and dropped an A-bomb on our happy drive without even trying.
But an amused little giggle slips out all the same.
“Good lord, Sunny.” Jasper’s lips quirk and his head shakes.
I laugh into my hands for a minute before regaining my composure. “Anyway, for the last couple of weeks, I haven’t missed it the same way. I’ve been sad but not stressed, if that makes any sense? I wanted to dance to get all the anxiety out of my body, to tire myself out enough that I wouldn’t think too hard. But dancing in Summer’s gym was . . . relaxing somehow. No one watched. I played whatever music I wanted. I did whatever choreography I wanted. I just got to be myself, and that was therapeutic, I think. No one telling me what I can and can’t do.”
“Until I rolled around,” Jasper grumbles darkly.
I laugh lightly and reach over the console, hoping I can pass off accidentally rubbing his dick as a reassuring pat on the leg.
My hand lands on his muscled quad, sliding inward. “Yeah, but the difference is I like it when you do it. I want it when you do it. I told you to do it.”
His cheek twitches under the strain of hiding a smile. My fingers inch further down between his legs, my pinky shifting out to trail down his impressive length.
“Sunny.”
I peek up at him, plastering an expression of faux innocence on my face. “Yeah, Jas?”
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Patting your leg?” I roll my lips together, keeping my eyes as wide as possible.
“This innocent look on your face is adorable when only a few hours ago I hung your head off that four-poster bed and watched you choke on my cock.”
Warm splotches crop up on my face immediately. Placing one hand over my chest, I lean away from him dramatically. “I am scandalized.”
“Yeah.” He chuckles, peeking up to the rearview mirror. “You’re about to be. Get back in your seat and lose the pants.”
My heartbeat thrums in my ears. “What about you?”
“What about me? I’m driving.”
“Aren’t you uncomfortable?”
“I’ve been fighting off getting hard around you for years. I’ll be fine. Pants off. I’m already tired of waiting.”
I blink once. Years. How did I not notice? Did I convince myself so thoroughly he would never be interested in me that I stopped really looking at him?
The answer is yes. It got to the point where it almost hurt to look at him that closely. To think about things that specifically.
“Sloane.” His voice is authoritative, and that’s “The Daddy” voice, I decide. There’s a switch that gets flicked and he goes from quiet, aloof Jasper to that.
Whatever the voice is, it catapults me into action. My boots are already off, and I pull away the soft thermal socks, dropping them in the footwell before lifting my heavy wool sweater’s hem and peeling the black leggings from my body. His eyes stay on the road, but when I go to discard my panties, he says, “No, those stay.”
“But they’re—”
“An uncomfortable reminder of how desperate you are?”
“Ha.” I laugh bursts from my lips. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it.”
A smug smirk graces his lips as he peeks over at me briefly. “Good.”
I groan and tip my head back against the seat, bare thighs squeezed together while I wait. When no further directions come, I glance at him. “What now?”
“Now, you sit there and tell me about what you plan to do when we get back to the city.”
“But . . . that’s not hot.”
He laughs. “No. But it’s a necessary conversation.”
“Why did I need to take my pants off for it?”
He shrugs as he casually looks over his shoulder to swap lanes. “Just like to watch you squirm. Tell me your plan.”
With a heavy sigh, I pluck at my lip and turn to stare out the passenger side window. “Well, I’m due to go to Sterling’s penthouse and pack up the stuff I kept there.”
Jasper is deathly still beside me. “I’ll go with you.”
“Yeah.” I snort. “That should go over really well. I can manage.”
“I know you can manage. But I’m still coming.”
I breathe out slowly, letting that go for now.
“And I’m going to have to call my dad. Face the music on that front.”
“He should be apologizing to you.”
I nod solemnly. “That might be true. But Robert Winthrop isn’t big on apologizing, so I won’t hold my breath. Most of the stuff I moved out of my condo when my lease was up at the end of August is at my parent’s place in boxes. So I’ll have to figure out what I’m going to do. Where I’m going to go.”
“My place.”
“Do you think moving straight in together is the best idea?”
God. I really hate this conversation.
“Why not? Now spread your legs. Pull your panties to the side with one hand and rub slow circles on your clit with the other.”
I bark out a disbelieving laugh. “Are you joking right now?”
“No, Sloane. You look tense. Take the edge off.”
I’m shaking my head at him while I do as he instructed. He left me seriously riled up this morning, and as much as I secretly like playing this game, I will not turn down an orgasm to help with that.
Plus, he’s not wrong. I go from tense to buzzing with anticipation instantly. With two fingers, I hook the wet fabric out of the way and find my swollen clit.
I press down firmly before circling, biting down on my lip to keep quiet.
“I have houses in Chestnut Springs,” he says, like carrying this conversation on while I play with myself is perfectly normal. I have to bite back my smile. I never saw this side of Jasper coming, and I am fucking living for it. He likes being in control and choosing this with him makes me feel like I’m taking back part of myself I never indulged either. My own control. “Multiple. You’d have to commute. Or you can spend the next few months dancing at Summer’s gym. But you can have one.”
“Multiple houses?”
He nods, clearing his throat. “Keep rubbing, Sloane. I bought an entire block. A row of businesses on one side—including Summer’s gym—and houses set on the other. I figured I’d need something to do when I eventually retire, and fixing up a bunch of old bungalows in a town I love would be a fun passion project. Something to keep my hands busy.”
At that mention, he glances down at my hand. His jaw pops before he looks back up at my eyes. “Plus, I found out your dad wanted to buy that block and put in a stupid mall or something. Ruin the town with his shiny cookie-cutter bullshit. So I fucked him in the process by going to the realtor personally. That’s the thing about small towns. They trust and like who they know. And she knew me.”
I’m a little floored by what he’s just told me, but I’m not thinking straight with my fingers between my legs. Plus, he’s pushed the sleeves of his sweatshirt up, giving me a sexy view of the veins that run from his hands into his tattooed forearms. “But you could have spent all that money on hunting lions,” I quip, watching the muscles under that black ink flex.
“Put one finger in,” he bites out instantly.
And I do.
“Now two.”
I moan and easily slide a second finger into myself, pressing in and out a few times.
“Feet up on the dashboard,” he clips, reaching down to adjust his cock in his jeans.
“Oh my god,” I murmur. The blush from my cheeks instantly blazes out over my chest, my breasts, my stomach. My entire body is on fire for him.
I move my feet up onto the dash, making the fit that much tighter. I moan at the sensation.
“You love this. I know.” He juts his chin at me. “Knees open so I can see.”
“You sure this is safe?” I tease breathily.
“There’s nothing safe about how badly I want you, Sloane. Never has been. Now add a third finger. I wanna watch you work for it.”
His head flips back to the road. It’s a straight, quiet stretch on a perfectly sunny weekday afternoon. Jasper would never take unnecessary risks.
As I slide a third finger in and feel the bite of my body stretching, I decide this risk is very necessary. Coming is very necessary. And following his orders like this sets my body buzzing like I’ve never felt.
“How does that feel, Sloane?”
I close my eyes, imagine his body over mine, and moan. “So good.”
“You pretending it’s me stuffed between your legs rather than your fingers right now?”
My eyes snap open and I glare over at him.
“Fuck your fingers and answer my question.”
My hand moves in and out slowly, feeling so fucking good. It’s dirty and kinky and so unlike the reserved version of me. I became someone else under the thumb of all the shit around me, so I let myself luxuriate in feeling dirty and free to take what I want.
“Yes. I was thinking about you. I’m always thinking about you.”
A soft, satisfied smile touches his lips. Everything about him is so hyper masculine, hard and domineering but doting all at once. Jasper always makes me feel like he’ll catch me when I fall. He always has.
“Do you want to come?”
“Yes,” I pant out, still working my fingers wantonly into myself.
“Too bad.” He chuckles. He fucking chuckles. “Put your pants back on and wait.”
I loud groan erupts from my throat as I bang my head against the seat, instantly crossing my legs to ease the swell of pleasure coiling in my core.
Like I might strangle it. Snuff it out.
But it doesn’t work. Every nerve ending is firing. Everything I see is Jasper.
I’ve never been so fucking worked up in my life.
“That is just cruel. Aren’t you so uncomfortable?”
He shrugs, looking altogether too pleased with himself. “Yeah. It’s not worse than watching you date losers for years though.”
I scoff at that. “You’re a masochist.”
He doesn’t even flinch. “I believe a therapist suggested that once.”
“Or you just secretly hate me.” With a shaking hand, I reach for my leggings that I so badly do not want to put on. Even running fabric over my skin is going to drive me insane. It’s just going to make me hornier.
“Trust me, Sunny. I don’t hate a single thing about you. But I do hate you talking about him while you’re touching yourself.”
“I didn’t— Oh. The lion hunting.”
He gives me a wink. A playful, handsome, fucking infuriating wink.
“I hate you.”
He clicks his tongue and gives his head this little dip that makes his thick hair flop. No hat today. “You mentioned that this morning. Somehow I’m not all that worried about it. You’ll take it back when I make you come so hard you can’t even walk.”
I sigh, wanting to push away the reminder that I did, in fact, already say that today. I said it and immediately thought it wasn’t true.
That I loved him instead.
I know I love him.
But I’m still having a tough time believing he’ll ever be able to love me back in quite the same way.
“It’s dark. Let’s stop here again for the night.” Jasper flicks the signal light to turn into Rose Hill, his voice bleeding exhaustion. We’re only a few hours from home, but he’s right. It’s dark and our conversation has fallen into a quiet, tired lull after ten hours of driving.
All I can think about is sex.
How I went from dancing so rigorously and working such long hours that it barely ever crossed my mind to being feral for it is really a wonder to behold.
I decide I will now refer to this phenomenon as The Jasper Gervais Effect.
He’ll edge you for a day and turn you into a happy desperate ho! That could be his tagline.
I’m living, squirming, tense proof of that at this point.
When we pull back into the Rose Hill Inn, we park along the tree-lined side of the parking lot to accommodate the empty trailer behind us.
Suddenly I’m desperate for fresh air. The truck smells too much like mint and eucalyptus bodywash. I’m also jittery and agitated and—
“Where do you think you’re going?” Jasper’s voice cuts me off as I reach for the door handle to escape the suffocating sexual tension between us.
I startle and look back at him. “Out.” I hike a thumb over my shoulder.
“Not a chance. I think we’ve waited long enough.” He crooks a finger at me and then fists my sweater, gently tugging me toward him. With a heavy sigh, I scramble over the center console and straddle his lap, just like that day on the runaway lane.
His fingers stroke up the sides of my face, over my cheekbones, hooking into my hair and pushing it back behind my ears. “You have no idea how lovely you are. How distracting you are. How much I’ve loved watching you follow my directions all day,” he murmurs, eyes tracing my every feature while his rock-hard cock drives up into my ass. “I want to try this again. No rush. Nowhere to be. No near miss car crash. Just you and me.” His voice is so soft, his hands so tender.
“Just you and me,” I whisper back.
“I want your eyes on mine when you come in my lap.” He cups my head delicately and I drop my lips to his hungrily. His steely arms wrapping me up. Somehow fitting around me so perfectly. Making me feel so safe. So cherished.
I melt against him. My hands roam his chest, his throat, his hair. Touching him freely is such a pleasure.
When he pulls away he removes my pants, one leg at a time. Followed by my underwear. He undresses me and soaks in the sight, lit only by the glow of the headlights. Every brush of his fingers is reverent, every look is loaded.
He kisses me first, and my chest aches with the sweetness of it. His lips are firm and soft all at once.
As he reclines his seat I help him get rid of his pants, rubbing his cock and cupping his balls, making sure I sneak a hand under his shirt to run my fingers over the ballerina he got just for me.
“I don’t know how I went so long without you,” he murmurs, pushing my hair behind my ear and cradling my skull. “I never want to go without you again,” he adds, fisting himself and swiping the thick head of his cock through my core.
“You’ll never have to,” I whisper as I kiss him back, trying to match his rawness with my own.
“Promise me.” His eyes bore into my mine, and I nod.
“I promise.”
Then he notches himself inside of me, pushing in just an inch and still my back bows toward him. My body bends so willingly under his touch as he holds me in position, and when I slowly push myself down his steely girth, feeling every inch of him, he whispers, “Sloane,” with a hitch in his voice.
Our bodies meld to each other in the dark truck. We start out lazily. Lovingly. But soon our hands and kisses become frenzied. My body feels ready to burst.
“Jasper, I’m going to—”
He grips my chin and pulls my face a hairbreadth apart from his. “Rub your clit, honey. Come for me.”
When he exhales, I inhale his breath. He’s inside me in so many ways. I don’t even know if he realizes.
His cock hits that spot, I brush my fingers over my swollen bundle of nerves, and I shatter, eyes locked on his. “Ah! Fuck. Jasper.”
“Sloane,” he growls, right as his hand drops to my throat and he kisses me fiercely.
My name is on his lips as he spills himself inside me, sounding just a little bit undone.
Just a little bit out of control.
And it gives me just a little bit of hope that Jasper Gervais might love me the way I love him too.
