He opened the front door, stepping into what felt like another world entirely—his world. The soft click of the door shutting behind him sealed him in, away from the chaos, into the quiet sanctity of his home. He paused just inside, his breath catching as the delicate scent enveloped him. Sweet jasmine mingled with the subtle spice of lavender, the fragrances intertwining like an invisible welcome. Beneath it, something more exotic teased his senses, a whisper of far-off places hidden in the air. The scent drifted through him, unraveling the tension in his shoulders, dissolving the day’s strain as if it had never existed. His home smelled right. He felt right. Jack turned to Jane, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "How nice of you to have come with me here."
Her eyes locked onto his, intense and unreadable, as if she were searching for something hidden just beneath his surface. There was something unnerving in her gaze, something that made his instincts stir. She stood there, perfectly composed yet strangely out of place, like a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit. For a fleeting moment, he almost imagined her as something more—something like him.
But the warning came swiftly, a silent voice within him that whispered caution. She was the type who would want control—of him, of everything he touched. He could feel it in the way she held herself, in the way her eyes never wavered. She wasn't the kind that he wanted to stick around. There would be no casual offer of breakfast in the morning, no polite gesture to show her where the toiletries were. He wouldn’t even ask if she wanted an Uber. This was a fleeting moment, and he would make sure it stayed that way.
Demi would be here in the morning, on time. She could manage all the things he didn’t want to deal with.
Whenever she found yet another girl in one of the guest bedrooms, Demi would just get down to business—the weird business of signing a waiver and NDA all in one. It was a task he didn't like to make his concern at all. Demi, though, was happy to make it hers.
She got those agreements signed, whether by hook or crook. He didn't know or care to know how, but she always brought the original copy of the document into his office to file away with the others. She got it done "for his own good," and he didn't have to argue. She was the manager, after all; she understood the business better than he ever would. He was just the hand of the powers that used him. His was to have sex and write. He didn't have to stress about what would happen if a girl he had slept with stumbled upon herself in one of his erotic tales, ended up feeling violated and exposed as if she had unknowingly played the starring role in some clandestine pornographic film. Her most private and intimate moments being publicly shared without her knowledge or consent.
Thus Demi took care of the consent.
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He admitted to himself that his writings could be that close to home in expression and depiction. No experience was a waste for a writer, after all. Demi had said that girls who felt used and "exposed" by these writings could plead a case in court and, crazily, might have won. To avoid that, a document procured even before the writer—him—got to put down the first word had to be signed.
That's why he was glad to have Demi—his only real friend—do what she did best, so he could focus on worrying about his own demons. She knew about the demons and was considerate enough to help relieve their pressures in different ways. What more could one ask for from a friend?
"You brood a whole lot, Mr. Harper" Jane—again!—cut into his thoughts. "I think you should learn to talk about what is on your mind more. He opened his eyes and actually wanted to walk her out the door that very moment, but the wonderful air was still taking hold of him. He was still smiling internally.
He shifted his gaze away from her exasperating face, his eyes traveling down her body, reigniting the lust from their first encounter. The curves of her breasts caught his attention, beautifully accentuating her curvaceous, yet slender frame. He envisioned her eyes clouding with pleasure as he undressed her, eagerly and sensually, caressing each breast. A warm sensation stirred within him.
Throughout the evening, her short dress provided tantalizing glimpses of her legs. Even now, beneath the soft glow of the lights and within his private haven, they exuded an even more erotic allure. Once again, his mind entertained thoughts of them entwined around his waist.
He let his gaze return to her face, observing the flush that now colored her cheeks. She had witnessed his eyes roaming all over her, intoxicating his senses with her presence.
Her lips were slightly parted, revealing her desire without any trace of resistance. She yearned for him. Whether it was the charm of a handsome man or simply the embodiment of a passionate exploration with a successful individual, was a question that needed no answer.
He actually wanted to sleep with her, he wanted it with all his being, regardless of the writing. Because, at the end of the day, it was a way to forget and just live in momentary pleasure. It was one of the few things that kept him sane.
"You’re still doing it," she complained, her voice sounding smaller and huskier.
He grinned and took a step toward her. Their bodies were touching then; he felt the thumping of her heart against her chest.
She didn’t blink as he took her hand. Carefully, he guided it to run his length, that had been slowly hardening in his pants. She took in a sharp breath, her eyes going wide.
He moved his lips to her pale neck, feeling the beautifully dancing pulse of her heartbeat and whispered, "We don't need words, Jane." He kissed her just below her ear, and she shivered. "We really, really don't."
That truth set his desires free, and he took her mouth with a ravenous hunger that sapped them both of any hesitation.
He knew that hunger. It was never quenched.
Never.