THE BIGGEST LIE
(part six: now i'm a crashed credit card registered to smith)
by: AliLamba
rated: Ee, I think this is going to have to be my first real R/"M," and that's strongly bordering on "MA." I mean, I arguably get more explicit (I really can't say that I've shied away from such in the past) later on, but this chapter…well…um, it stops where it does.
notes: I was about here when I started posting. It's already much, much longer than the original, but I think I'm just delaying the second half. Yes, that's second half, as I've just finished outlining the twelfth, and final chapter. But yes. I'm trying at least to make sure the chapters don't get shorter (they seem to be doing just the opposite, actually)… I suppose I could have always split all these chapters in two, but that would be review-gouging, I think, more than anything, especially since I tend to write them in the chapter forms you see here (and maybe they flow like that?). Ha, that being said, reviews really make me happy :D As does the ending of this chapter. Even I squee with fangirl-y delight.
clean version is over at my LJ again: alilamba-writes (dot) livejournal (dot) com (forward slash) 3524 (dot) html
Kate bought the groceries Jack had asked her to pick up, but on the cab ride back to the apartment, exhaustion at having been awake most of the night before swept over her like a tidal wave. Rather than take the time to put things away carefully, she tossed the plastic grocery sacks directly into the refrigerator and slunk into the bedroom.
Obviously a maid had been in. The bed was made, clothing folded and neatly piled atop the dresser. Kate tried to block the images they evoked as she ripped back the sheets, shed her own clothes, and slipped under the covers. Sleep claimed her easily, only teasing her into wakefulness when a shadow interrupted the sunlight that had been touching her face.
She barely had to creak her eyes open to know it was Jack, and her immediate reaction was to bring the sheets up over herself more snuggly. Her eyes blinked open, slowly focusing, and then she tried to sit up.
"No," Jack murmured, his hand on her shoulder. "Stay where you are."
Kate rocked his hand off her. "No, I want to get up," she protested. Jack pinned her shoulder to the mattress in one strong push, and suddenly, his lips were mere inches from hers, his salty sea breath fresh against her mouth. "No!" Kate struggled to turn her head away, "No, I hate you!"
There was a deep, hollow chuckle at this, and then Jack's hand was on her chin, forcing her lips towards his and forcing a kiss upon them. If you could even call it a kiss. Jack was asserting to her that he could have kissed her if he wanted to, a fact she very well understood.
"You keep saying that."
Kate made a show of wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, and turned away from him. Warm liquid had already begun to pool below her abdomen. "Because it's true." She tried to throw the words at him, and scamper away quickly, but Jack was faster. He dropped a hand in her path, stopping her, then wound his other around her wrists and brought them against the pillow above her head. The sheets and blankets had slipped in her struggle to get away, and she could feel Jack's heat drift along the bare back she had exposed to him from where she lay on her side.
Kate tried to shut her eyes, but the effect was a flutter, as Jack's free hand ran down the length of her spine. His breath fell against her shoulder, at the spread of skin that covered the tendons of her neck, and Kate felt her body thaw under his ministrations.
"Do you really want me to stop?" Jack's question was barely a whisper, his hand just as close to her core, and the consequence made her shudder in blatant anticipation.
"Yes," she breathed, tempting the vestige of defiance.
Jack stilled, and before Kate could really realize what was happening, his hands were slipping away from her, back from under the sheets.
And despite her better judgment, Kate turned back towards him, and grabbed his hand before it left her completely. "No!"
As he promised, Jack took her to dinner that night, to a small fish and chips place Kate had often wanted to afford. Nearly everything they ate was fried, but still delicious, and they both took a sick sort of pleasure in drowning it all in tartar sauce.
She said something that made them both laugh—a practice she was learning was almost unavoidable. As much as she was trying to be finicky, to get Jack to abandon her as quickly as possible, Kate's tongue would sort of spur jokes of its own accord. The offending muscle had already been sorely bitten more than once.
It was after one of these healthy chuckles, when they could both feel their stomachs reaching capacity, that Jack leaned back in his chair. Kate glanced up, half a french fry hanging out of her mouth.
"Don't tell me I out-ate you already, doctor."
Jack grinned, sated in more than one way.
"I want to know something about you."
The request came almost out of nowhere, making the strip of fried potato turn to lead in her mouth. A strong sip of ice water pushed it down, though the effort seemed to rid her of her appetite.
"What do you wanna know?"
Kate tried to sound aloof, but she was having trouble making eye contact.
Jack followed her gaze, and chuckled. "Kate, I don't think you'll make it out that window." She glanced at him, wondered how obvious it was that she had been unconsciously probing her exits. "Why don't we try something simple? Like how you ended up in Cowes."
Her lap drew her interest, and Kate picked absently at the paper napkin she had so ceremoniously draped across her thighs some twenty minutes before.
"I don't have to tell you anything."
"No," Jack conceded, "But it might make things easier."
A steeliness tightened her jaw. "How soon before you get tired of me?" she asked, somewhat rhetorically, the jibe sounding weak even to her own ears.
"Just, answer the question Kate."
Her paper napkin was already starting to shred between her fingers, but Kate looked back out the window. No, there wouldn't be any harm in telling him how she got to England. But she didn't want to invite any more questions, questions that would require honest answers. Kate tried to shrug disparagingly.
"College, I guess. I got a grant to examine some of the older lineages of 'civilized' peoples. Obviously," she couldn't help but include, "your family didn't make the list."
Jack smiled laughingly. "Obviously."
She couldn't help but grin a little in response. "Yeah, well, it was mostly supposed to be in the more provincial areas of France and England, places where people would obsessively trace their heritage back a few centuries. We were going to write a book, I guess you could say…" Painful memories came back on the heels of bitter disappointment, and Kate decided that was enough. "Well, needless to say, it didn't work out. Who the hell wants a book about old people from the middle of no where, right? So, yeah. Grant revoked, we're all out of work. Fun story."
Jack's expression was sort of…quiet. Almost respectful. Kate didn't like it, so she picked up a whole mini handful of fries and dunked it in the small cup of mayonnaise-relish sauce.
"You couldn't fly back home?"
Kate let out a mirthless sort of laugh. "See, this is where I mention that I got a bug that looked too much like Mad-Cow Disease."
"Are you serious?"
"Yup. Turned out to be nothing, but no one would let me on a plane."
Jack was almost squinting in disbelief. "What did it end up being?"
Kate stuffed the fries in her mouth and started chewing. "You really think I could afford health care?"
"Yeah, but, the American consulate…"
"I have my own reasons for not wanting to visit them, thanks."
Jack fell silent, allowing Kate to chew the fries and sauce into mash and swallow them down.
"Okay…so, you got sick. But you couldn't find a job somewhere around here? Maybe back in London?"
Kate wiped the corner of her mouth with her thumb and sucked off the sauce that she found there, not noticing how Jack's gaze was automatically rooted to the spot. "You're assuming that I didn't try everything before I met you, Jack. I was sick for awhile, then I looked for work for awhile…and then, I don't know, someone from back home thought that my being in England could be useful to them. And you know, I survived."
It seemed like Jack was only half-listening now, but before Kate could ask him what his deal was, the doctor was leaning forward, and his thumb came against her cheek. A soft gasp escaped her lungs at the sudden gesture, and as her mouth fell open, she could feel the rough pad of his thumb against her tongue, and the partly sweet, partly sour taste of tartar.
Their eyes connected, a stirred sort of desire obvious in Jack's gaze. Seeing her staring at him must have jolted something like conscious thought back into his brain, because he slipped his finger from her mouth and tried to cough discretely.
"I'll, uh…I'll get the check."
They stayed in for the rest of the night, coaxing and exploring each other's bodies at length. Kate learned quickly that Jack already knew hers well, though he still seemed to find pleasure when she responded so readily to his touches. They were reactions she had found were undeniable, and somewhere along the line, Kate stopped trying to hide them. It only seemed to make him happier when she did, anyway.
In the morning, he roused her slowly from sleep with languid kisses against her jaw…and made them breakfast.
Kate stayed adamantly in bed to be served, pouring herself over the lighter sections of the newspaper Jack had had delivered. He joined her with mugs of steaming black coffee, making a mess of what sections she had left him. Kate was somewhat amused that they could already be so comfortable being so relatively naked with each other. Well, the bed sheets were still tucked steadfastly underneath her arms, but somehow, she didn't have the impulse to pull on a nightgown or a t-shirt while she munched on toast in bed with a boxer briefs-clad Jack.
The realization didn't sit well.
Losing her appetite, Kate dropped her remaining piece of toast onto the "Dining In" section and flopped back against the pillows, pulling the covers up to her chin with a shallow sort of sigh. It wasn't like she immediately felt the urge to cover up…it was just…depressing, that she should already be so wanton with him. It made her feel sort of sordid all over again.
Jack seemed to be finished eating as well. She felt the dip of the mattress as Jack stood up, could hear his bare feet pacing the floor as he looked for some vestige of clothing. It took him a moment to remember that they were strewn across the foyer in the next room. And while Kate had hoped that he would dress in there, he wandered back into the bedroom only in jeans, pulling on a dressier shirt and moving to her side of the bed. Kate watched him start to work on the lowest buttons.
"I noticed you didn't buy a suitcase."
Kate mm-ed and dropped her hand to her forehead, turning away for a moment. "I'll get it today. Where are we going?"
"Senegal, then L.A., and then," he shrugged, "wherever business takes me." She could feel him look at her, like he was unsure of how to say what he said next. "If you have any family you need to keep in contact with, you should call them before we leave."
Kate didn't even blink. "I don't have any family."
There was an eerie stillness, as Jack's movement slowed to a stop. Kate turned back to look at him, feeling his stare, and then she realized that that particular aspect of her life hadn't come up yet between them. She panicked for a moment, praying that he wouldn't feel like he had the right to ask questions. Kate tried to shrug it off. "What, you really think I'd be here if I did?"
The question really did die on his lips then. His probing stare turning cold, Jack forced a chuckle as he resumed buttoning up his shirt.
"Where are you going?"
Jack crossed to the dresser and pulled out a fresh pair of socks. "Family stuff, business stuff. Have to help Desmond accept our award. And no," he didn't bother to look at her, "you can't come."
Kate riled. "Maybe I didn't want to come."
Jack returned to her side of the bed after putting on his shoes. He took his time to look over her bare shoulders and arms, her unwashed face devoid of make-up.
"I'll be back tonight." It looked like he wanted to kiss her, and Kate turned away, onto her stomach, trying to indicate that he should leave.
There was another heavy pause, where both seemed to be withholding their movements. Kate wondered whether he would force himself upon her again, and the air seemed thick with the possibility… But in a quick moment he was turning and leaving, the front door clicking loudly shut behind him.
It didn't take much for Kate to realize she was now just the opposite of tired, her skin having lit in the anticipation that Jack would touch her. She hated her body for it, and punished herself with a very cold shower.
Once dressed, in clothes newly purchased which suited her immensely, Kate came to the conclusion that all she had to do in the next ten hours was to buy a suitcase. She realized that mistresses must be very bored with themselves, probably spent all their time preening and being available for their lover's every whim. Not the sort of life that her mother raised her for.
She wanted to spend more time being lazy around the apartment, but Kate couldn't find anything to do, and before long she was restless enough to propel herself outside. Jack had left her cash for a cab, but Kate decided to walk, skidding her heels of her flats against the pavement as she hummed lightly to herself. The day was gorgeous—bright and sunny, a cool breeze dispersing the warm, stagnant air.
There was no reason why she shouldn't have noticed Sawyer.
"Freckles?" The call reached her ears when she was mid-way through a busy street full of cars stopped at a stoplight, and Kate froze when she heard the voice. Sawyer Ford was bounding towards her, dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt. "Freckles! Well, ain't it funny, runnin' into you again."
A horn blared in their direction, and they both looks up as if caught. Sawyer ushered her quickly onto the sidewalk.
"I didn't think you'd still be in town," Kate admitted once they were safely on the other side of the road.
"Yeah, me neither, the way that damned Elizabeth whooped us on Tuesday. Damn, you'd think they were racin' the devil the way they were…" It didn't take much calculation to figure out Tuesday was the day after her unveiling.
Huh. Well, at least I was good for something…
"…lunch?"
Kate blinked, and reclaimed the gaze that had shifted out of focus. "I'm sorry?"
Sawyer stared at her blankly for a second, and then he chuckled. "Geez, do I gotta get you a satellite dish 'r somethin'?" When she didn't say anything in response, his amusement somewhat abated. "No, I uh, was just wonderin' if you were too busy for lunch. What with our bein' so close to a nice little rest'rant 'n all."
Kate looked down her dress shorts, to her shoes, and then at the road that passed behind them. Jack never said she couldn't make friends… Damn it, Jack never said she couldn't make friends.
"You know what? I would love to have lunch with you, Sawyer."
He grinned.
The 'nice little restaurant' they ducked into together was made for intimate gatherings. It was small, certainly, and definitely posh in the yacht-club sort of way. The house chef specialized in lobster chowder, but they didn't get much past ordering drinks.
"So, when you headin' back to the mainland, Freckles?"
Kate smiled at the nickname now. Slowly fingering her gin and tonic, she let her gaze focus on the sugared rim of her glass. "You know, I'm not sure."
"Uh-huh," he practically snorted, obviously recognizing she was being deliberately coy, "Well then, you wanna tell me where you ran off to Friday night? Sprain your ankle or somethin'?"
"Huh?"
"Well, the good doctor only seemed too obliged to help you outta there."
Now Kate couldn't help but bite her lip, as memories started to poke at her consciousness. A healthy blush was rising to her cheeks, and Kate tried to stamp it down with a questioning stare in Sawyer's direction.
"You really don't know, do you?"
Sawyer grinned, the expression tinged with ulterior motive. "Know what," he practically purred.
"Oh, Mrs. Shephard! How nice of you to join us for lunch this afternoon." Kate froze. The sound of the maitre-d's voice had drifted to their table, all sugary sweet, as if they were close, personal friends. But it was nothing compared to what came next.
"And you brought your charming," the host faltered for only a second, "daughter."
"Step-daughter," Nikki's cool voice reminded him, "Please, do I really look like someone's mother?" She laughed, shrilly.
"No, no, of course not! Table for two, I take it?"
"Not today, darling, we're meeting a friend."
Kate practically jumped in her seat, as Sawyer started to shift in his.
What in the…
And then it hit her. Nikki and Claire were there to have lunch with Sawyer.
Kate's sudden, aghast stare could've burned holes into Sawyer's face. Seeing her sudden wrath, Sawyer could only grin sheepishly, as he stood and hailed the two women by the door.
"Nikki! Claire! Over here, ladies."
"Sawyer," Kate growled, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and dragging it towards her. She only managed to make him stumble a little. "Sawyer, what the hell are you doin'."
Nikki and Claire hadn't seen her yet, but the look Sawyer was darting in Kate's direction made it clear he wasn't going to distract or deter them. Kate spun away from him, and tried to look for a discrete exit, but the sudden movement drew attention to her face, and it was with a dual, scandalized gasp that she was recognized.
"James," Nikki's voice was murderous as she entered the man's proximity, "What the fuck is going on here."
"Now, c'mon now Nikki, let's try to be civil…"
"…K…Kate?"
Biting her lip, Kate knew she could escape no longer. Slowly, she turned in her seat, until Claire's big blue eyes came into focus. She didn't want to look meek, but Kate couldn't help it, and in the face of the friend she had hoped to know, her small wave was anything but.
"James, I don't know what game you're playing at, but there is no way I will be sharing a table with her." Nikki cast a distasteful glare at Kate, but found it too much to actually personally address her.
"Don't worry," Kate stood shakily. "I'm leaving."
"Hey, wait a darn minute there, Freckles. I'm the one that invited you all, and if you're expectin' me to pay for that drink, you bet your ass you're going to share it with me. Nikki, Claire, you'll sit down too. 'Cause y'er makin' a damn scene."
The last sentiment seemed to ring home for the elder Shephard, because with a furtive glance at her surroundings, she slipped gracefully into the extra chair to Sawyer's immediate left.
"I'll have a martini, Jeeves, dirty and dry."
Kate hadn't noticed the maitre-d still hovering around their table, but his conservative nametag certainly didn't say 'Jeeves.'
"O-of course, madam."
Nikki took her time tugging each individual finger from the gloves she was wearing, before settling eye contact on Kate. Claire managed to sit on her step-mother's side, forcing Kate closer to Sawyer.
"I expect you planned this, then?" Kate opened her mouth, thinking to protest, but it seemed that Mrs. Shephard wouldn't have any of it. "I won't even bother to ask how you knew that we were meeting, because I don't want to involve the police in any of this." Kate frowned, her mouth dropping open again, but Nikki's drink came, and the woman was too busy ignoring Kate to let her say anything anyway. "So, out with it then. What, are you pregnant now? Have some sort of blackmail scheme you want to air?" She didn't touch her drink, but started bobbing her foot up and down, throwing irritated and loathsome looks at Sawyer.
"Hey, you just wait a darn minute there, Nikki." It was Sawyer, and it was becoming increasingly obvious that whatever his goal had been, things weren't going according to plan. "Me and Kate ran into each other plum outta the blue." Nikki snorted, turning away. Claire was staring into her lap, a look of mounting fury blooming across her face.
"It's true, Nikki. Sawyer didn't plan to invite me here, and I didn't know you were coming." She tried to convey with her tone of voice that she was just as irritated (if not more so) with the American for thrusting this meeting upon them, but it didn't seem like either Hume woman was interesting in having anything in common with her. Nikki suddenly leaned into the table, her hand falling against the linen-covered wood with a smack.
"Look, I don't know what you're playing at, Katherine, but you should know that Jack won't ever fall in love with you."
What? "Excuse me, but I want nothing to do with your step-son," Kate's voice was more savage than she intended, and she remembered Claire's presence a moment too slow.
Nikki snorted again, the tapping of her leg against the other increasing in pace. "Yeah right. First you can't get Desmond, so what, you just go to the next best thing! Just because Jack was married once before, doesn't mean he'll ever do it again."
Kate's breath caught in her chest. Jack had been…married?
"Nikki," the quiet voice came from the woman's side, and all eyes turned towards Claire. It was obvious the young blonde was trying to hold back tears. "Nikki, let's just go."
But it seemed like Sawyer had finally regained his senses, after having been reeling at so many things having gone so unlike he had expected. "No, wait, I think we all need to apologize here—"
"James, she's a prostitute." A hush fell over the table, as more than one pair of eyes dove to the tablecloth. Nikki's description was accurate enough. Sawyer frowned.
"Now, wait just a minute there—"
"No, you wait a minute." Claire had stood, shakily, to her feet, and was now glaring at Sawyer with such abject despondency that the American was stunned into silence. "I don't know what the hell you were trying to do, okay, but it's enough."
Sawyer glanced towards Kate, but if he was looking for back-up, he was sorely mistaken if he thought that it would come from her. Nikki rose next to her step-daughter, glowering at Sawyer, and Kate could see what she was going to do before anyone had time to react.
Nikki picked up her drink, and threw it in Sawyer's face.
"Let's go, Claire."
In one swish of colored skirts, both women turned, not bothering to explain to the maitre-d why they would likely never see him again.
There was a stunned silence at their table, and then Sawyer quietly picked up a cloth napkin and started to wipe the splashes of dirty, dry martini from his face.
"Well, that's what you get fer tryin' to play nice…" he grumbled, raising an eyebrow in Kate's direction. He stumbled over himself when he saw that she was glowering as well, a frown marring her perfectly shaped brows. "Oh, no, not you too. What is this, joint menstruation?"
Kate's jaw shifted as she ground her teeth in a new direction. "No, Sawyer, what you did wasn't right. If me and Claire a-and…Nikki…were supposed to get back together as friends, then it should've been us to be the ones to decide how and when."
"Are you kiddin' me? You're seriously takin' Cruella's side?"
Kate's brow furrowed, as she turned her glare to her lap. "No, I…I'm not defending her, I'm just sayin', you didn't deserve to do that."
"She called you—!" Sawyer swept his gaze around the small restaurant, and then lowered his voice as he leaned towards her. "She called you a whore, Freckles. That ain't right."
She couldn't even compel her limbs to stiffen, as she had to look away in shame. There was nothing in her heart that thought she could refute the testimony, not after…not after she had played to Jack's whims so easily, now embraced his advances so welcomingly. From the recesses of her consciousness, she could hear Sawyer's quiet gasp, but she didn't turn around. He swallowed, licked his lips, and then from the corner of her eye, she could see his jaw set.
"Now, I don't know what's goin' on here, Freckles, but if you need anythin' at all, you don't even need to ask."
A fire sparked inside her chest, and Kate found the strength to sit up. Her grip tightened around her drink, and in one sweeping motion, she stood. Sawyer's eyes widened as he adjusted to her new position, and took in the gin and tonic she was still clutching in her manicured first.
"Now, hold on a second…"
"Don't worry," Kate spat, "I would never waste good booze."
She took a final swig of the drink and then slammed the glass down, skipping from the table and out of the small establishment before Sawyer could muster anything to say in response.
Kate felt like she was on fire, as she scanned the heads of the crowds assembled on the sidewalk. Half-way down the block, she could see Claire and Nikki hailing a cab, and she had to fight with herself to stop from calling out to them. As much as she wanted to commiserate about what a…a cad Sawyer had been about the whole process, she knew they wouldn't want to hear it. Not from her, and not right now. So Kate watched mutely as they stepped into the first cab that stopped, and then she hailed the next one she saw.
Kate took her time as she bought the suitcase, the most expensive one in the shop, and then wandered into a small, family-owned pharmacy to pick up toiletries. With the last of her money, she splurged on an outrageously priced bottle of wine, but couldn't wait for Jack to get back to the apartment before she popped it open and had a glass…or two.
When Jack came home that evening, late (so late that he came in with take-out), the first thing she noticed was that he was in a bad mood. He didn't come right out and say it, and was certainly polite enough, making small talk over dinner and taking her to bed immediately afterwards. But rather than lay there while they both came down, he rolled out of bed, and slipped into a fresh pair of boxer briefs before making his way into the living room. She could hear the clink of glass and ice, as Jack made himself a drink, and then the television flicked into life, the sounds of some soccer match echoing through the open door.
To say that she was disappointed wouldn't be the right word, but she was…put off, by his dismissal, and it didn't take long for her to realize that there wasn't anything to be accomplished by squandering time in the next room away from him. Unable to sleep (she blamed the noise, but knots had bunched her shoulders, and she couldn't massage the tension away), she stood from the bed and slipped on a smaller camisole, padding gently through the doorway and slipping onto the opposite end of the couch.
"Who's winning?" she asked, rhetorically, the score beaming through the darkness from the upper right-hand corner of the television screen. Jack didn't answer. After a quiet minute, and a failed goal attempt by the home-team, Jack turned the television off and stood, heading back towards the bedroom. Kate couldn't stop herself from asking the question.
"Are you leaving?"
Jack paused in the doorway, his neck and shoulders visibly stiff. "Why, are you inviting someone over?"
The unexpected bitterness in his voice hit her hard. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Jack turned around, and leaned against the doorjamb, crossing his arms over his bare chest. "Are you playing around with Sawyer Ford?"
Kate couldn't even muster a gasp at that. Her gaze turned into a glare. "I don't deserve that from you."
"Oh no?"
"No!" Kate turned away, wanting to recall her outburst of emotion. "No," she started again, "I don't 'play around' as you call it."
Jack didn't yield. "You're hardly in a position to make that sort of assertion."
Kate felt herself color, but consciously refused to back down either. "This is different."
She could feel his gaze narrow against her face, but Kate couldn't look him in the eye. "This is…I consider this to be a business arrangement, and I have no intention of breaking our deal…or seeking a new one."
"Why not? Sawyer's good looking enough, and he's got money, and status. I'm sure he'd make you a great offer."
That sharpened Kate's nerves, and in a flush of rage, she looked up at him.
"You men disgust me."
That compelled Jack into motion. With feigned shock, he stepped back into the room. "Ouch! Kate, I didn't know you had it in you." Kate's jaw thickened, and she clamped her mouth shut. "But would that be all men? Or just men who are interested in you sexually."
Kate's mouth twisted into a sneer, but she didn't move from where she was still perched on the couch, turned away from him as Jack came closer. "Not all men. Nikki's not so precious herself. Sawyer's right about her—she needs less men in her life."
Jack had reached her, his hand extending to the stretch of skin between her shoulder blades. "Somehow, I don't think they'll be seeing each other after today."
She wanted to shrink away from him, deny him access to her skin, but Kate felt it already forfeited. As Jack moved in front of her and lifted her against his chest, Kate didn't bother to try to stop her legs from winding around his waist. Jack's breathing came against her neck as she leaned her face against his shoulder, letting him take her back into the bedroom.
She thought he would drop her to the mattress, but instead he turned around and sat, keeping her against his lap as his hands traveled her back and pushed up the silk of her nightgown. Kate shuddered against his chest as his hands slipped against her inner thigh, and she felt him grin against her skin.
"This," Kate swallowed, relieving her dry throat. "This isn't love."
That warm, rich chuckle reverberated again from Jack's chest, and Kate questioned too slowly why she felt the need to assert that distinction. "Feminine shades of distinction," he whispered, pressing kisses along her collar bone. Kate sucked in a gasp when he reached her neck, his lips applying pressure as he sucked softly at her skin. "What would you," he started, his hands now rushing to tug the slip over her head, "What would you call it then?"
He seemed to calm down some when the offending garment was littered across the floor, taking time to run his hands up and down her bare back.
"Lust," she breathed, lolling her head against his shoulder, even as she moved her pelvis to press against the bulge straining against the thin cotton of his briefs. "Pure…male…gratification…"
Jack let out a hiss as she rubbed herself against him, and it was a wonder they were still both able to ground out conscious thought. "You like this too," he whispered into her neck, as his hands drifted against her hips to still her movements. "And you need a man to make you feel like this. You'll always need a man." His hands slid up her stomach and rested over her breasts, letting the taut peaks slide against his fingers. Kate's shoulders arched towards him, the warm wetness already evident against the heady pulse between her thighs. "And as long as it's my money, Kate," Jack leaned back against the covers, leaving her sitting upright across his groin. "I intend to be that man—the only man. Do you understand, Kate?"
She didn't care what he was saying. The thick and thrilling need for more was already pumping through her veins, making her tongue thick in her mouth. Jack's hands settled at her waist and tightened, forcing her attention to his face. "Do you?"
Kate bit her lip, searching for the impulse to turn away. "Yes," she breathed, trying to regain some sense of control with the sound of her own voice. But at her quiet admonition, Jack's hands started to move down her thighs, down to her knees, and then more intimately, up again. Kate wriggled as his fingers got closer, and she started tugging his briefs down his thighs, the molten pulse within her pelvis almost painfully wanting to be recognized. She moved to lie beside him, so he would take her from above, like she was used to, but his fingers stilled her, kept her upright.
"Good," he murmured, as the last of their combined clothing fell against the floor. "So why don't you keep up your end of the bargain."
end notes: Yeah, I'm terrible. But c'mon, like your imaginations REALLY couldn't go from there ;D Anyway, as usual, drop a review if you can. In complete honesty, I was stuck, majorly stuck in terms of finding inspiration to finish the eigth chapter, and reading your reviews got me going. No lie, really, thank you so much for all your nice words. Heh. And keep 'em coming, if you can!