Red Riding Jack

"Yes!!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, faking the kind of orgasm porn stars would envy as the man underneath me shot his load inside me. His hands clutched my ass, holding me tight while his body trembled beneath mine. "Argh," he groaned, dragging me against him as he rocked through the last spasms of his release. His face broke into a satisfied smile. I offered him one back—a fake one—and slid off him. His d**k slipped out of me with a sloppy pop that made my stomach turn more than it should have. "That was amazing," he whispered breathlessly, fumbling with the condom as he sat at the edge of the bed. A hum was all I could give him. I bent to grab my lace panties, pulling them up my thighs and snug over my ass. I didn’t even bother looking at him. "Did you c*m?" he asked hopefully while buttoning his white shirt. I sighed, slipping into my red dress. "Yes, Joel," I lied. My voice carried the same amount of care I gave to my heels as I strapped them on—barely any. His pout caught me mid-motion. "It’s James," he corrected, like a child whose toy had been forgotten. I cringed. That was worse. Turning, I leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to his lips, more habit than affection, before grabbing my bag. "Wait!" His voice cracked like he hadn’t expected me to actually leave. I looked back over my shoulder. "What?" "Can I have your number?" The hopeful shine in his eyes almost made me laugh. Almost. I raised a brow. "Sorry, Joel, but I don’t give out my number to strangers." "But we just f****d," he said, confusion twisting his face. "So?" I smirked. "It was just sex." His mouth opened and closed. He tried again. "Then at least tell me your name." I should have walked out. But instead, I leaned on the doorframe, lips curling. "Amanda." I winked. "Don’t forget it." The door clicked shut behind me. Cold night air hit my skin as I walked down the street, arms hugging my body. The cheap neon of the hotel sign buzzed above me. I shivered, not from the chill but from the emptiness crawling inside me. Another man, another fake orgasm, another disappointment. I needed more. I needed a man who’d f**k me until I saw stars. Someone who could drag me past the edges of my control, past the layers of fake moans and fake smiles. The bar where I’d met “Joel” glowed at the end of the street. My heels clicked against the pavement as I walked toward it. The bouncer’s chest was a wall of muscle I tapped lightly with my hand. He looked down at me with a raised brow. "Back so soon?" I gave him a sheepish smile. "He didn’t make me cum." Jayden chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, Amanda. You never change." "Would you love me if I did?" I teased, blowing him a kiss as he stepped aside. The smell of cigarettes, sweat, and cheap perfume washed over me as I pushed through the doors. Music throbbed from the speakers, a lazy bassline that matched the slow grind of bodies on the dance floor. I’d known Jayden a year now. Known the bar even longer. It had become my haven. Sometimes I came to drown in liquor. Sometimes to lose myself in strangers. Either way, I left emptier than I arrived. Sliding onto a stool, I ordered a cocktail. The glass sweated in my hand, condensation dripping down my wrist as I sipped and pretended I wasn’t watching the door, waiting for something better than “Joel.” Not five minutes later, I felt him before I saw him. A shift in the air. A presence at my side. "What’s a pretty lady like you doing in a bar alone?" The voice was deep. Rough. It curled around my spine like smoke. I turned, and my drink nearly slipped from my fingers. Grey. That was the first thing I noticed—icy grey eyes that locked on me like a predator sizing up prey. His gaze was sharp and heavy, almost suffocating. The rest of him followed: golden tan skin, high cheekbones, stubble lining a jaw so sharp it could cut glass. His features were rough, but there was something painfully beautiful about him. Like sin wrapped in silk. He leaned against the bar, one arm resting on the counter. His bicep flexed beneath his fitted shirt, veins standing out as if carved there on purpose. The top button of his shirt hung open, revealing smooth tan skin and the faintest trail of hair dipping down. Heat coiled low in my belly. My thighs pressed together instinctively. His lips curled into a knowing smirk. He’d seen it. He’d seen everything. I forced a sip from my glass, trying to steady myself. "And who said I was alone?" I asked lightly, legs crossing, my eyes sliding over him in return. He leaned closer, his breath brushing my ear. "I can tell." The words were a whisper, but they shook me harder than any man had in months. His tongue slid over his bottom lip before he leaned back, gaze trailing down my body like he owned it already. "You look stunning in red," he murmured, lifting his glass. "But you’d look even better riding my dick." I froze. Bold. Shameless. Dangerous. And I wanted him. I nodded. Just a slight dip of my head, but it was enough. His smirk widened. He set his drink down and took my hand, his palm warm and commanding around mine. He didn’t ask. He led. Through the bar. Out the door. Into a sleek car that matched his aura: black, smooth, expensive. The city blurred past in neon streaks until we pulled up to a house that looked like it had stepped off the cover of a magazine. Modern. White and black. Clean lines. Wide garage. Transparent windows framed with grey curtains. It was the kind of house that whispered money and power. "You have a beautiful house," I mumbled as we stepped out. "Thank you," he said, voice low as he came to stand beside me. He punched in a code. The door unlocked. The moment it shut behind us, I was airborne. His hands clamped on my thighs, lifting me. Instinct took over—I wrapped around him, clinging to his neck as his mouth crushed mine in a kiss that burned. My gown rode up, hips grinding against the hard length pressing against his abdomen. My core throbbed, slick and desperate. I didn’t even realize he was carrying me upstairs until my back hit soft sheets. My breath hitched, eyes wide as he stripped his shirt away. God. I’d slept with plenty of men. But none like him. None who made me ache just by looking. None who made me crave before a single inch of skin had touched mine. The throbbing between my legs was unbearable. My hands trembled as I reached for him, needing, begging. He leaned down, lips dragging over my jaw, my neck, my collarbone. His hand cupped my breast through the fabric. Fingers kneaded. A groan vibrated against my throat. "What’s your name?" I asked, voice breaking into a plea. He didn’t answer. His hand slid beneath my panties, fingers spreading me, sliding through wetness. "f**k," I gasped, back arching as two fingers drove inside me. His eyes stayed locked on mine, watching every twitch of my face as he pumped. Fast. Deep. Merciless. I clawed at the sheets, moaning his name even though I didn’t know it yet. When he pulled out suddenly, I whimpered in protest. But then my gown was gone. My breasts bare. His mouth latched onto one, groaning as he sucked hard, teeth grazing, tongue teasing. My n*****s peaked under his assault, his hand twisting and rolling the other until my cries filled the room. He trailed kisses down my stomach, my hips, until his face hovered between my thighs. He hooked his fingers into my panties and ripped them apart in one sharp tug. "Jack," he said simply, meeting my eyes. Then his mouth was on me. My head fell back, a scream tearing free. His tongue licked, sucked, thrust, his thumb rubbing hard circles over my c**t. Heat exploded inside me. My thighs shook around his head, nails clawing his hair as he devoured me. I came apart, sobbing his name as I rode his face. He didn’t stop until I was shaking, spent, ruined. Then he stood, stripping his slacks, and I froze. His c**k was huge. Thick. Veined. Terrifying. Perfect. He rolled on a condom, pressed to my entrance, and finally, finally slid inside. "f**k," I cried, eyes rolling back as he filled me. He f****d me hard. Fast. Rough. Our bodies collided, wet slaps echoing through the room. My legs wrapped tight around him as he kissed me, tongue messy, desperate. Then he flipped us, putting me on top. "Ride me," Jack growled. I obeyed, bouncing on his c**k, moaning shamelessly. He gripped my hips, driving me down harder, faster, until I saw stars. "Baby, f**k," he groaned, head falling back as I slammed against him. We were both close. Both undone. My orgasm tore through me with a cry, and he followed, hips jerking, spilling into the condom with a deep groan. I collapsed beside him, chest heaving. My eyes fluttered shut as exhaustion pulled me under. Just before sleep claimed me, his voice brushed against my ear. "Like I said—you looked amazing riding my dick."