So I decided to turn this story K+ from now on. No more of the good stuff…

Bahahaha! Yeah, sure. Well actually, I've decided to smut you guys up since I sort of failed to deliver for about TWO years. On the plus side, it is TWO thousand words longer than my longest chapter, so hopeful the extra makes it kind of worth it. (I just hope people are still waiting).

All varieties of smexiness from all bases, different places, because honestly, who doesn't like variety? Preview of chapter nine to the first reviewer who can correctly tell me what song the chapter name came from.

Mile High

Chapter Eight

Reckless Abandon


Monday—The London Eye


"Jake…" Rose squeaked.

I looked over instantly, concerned by her tone. "What's up?"

"This little surprise thing is lovely and all, but, ah… I have this issue with being in domes suspended over nothing but other suspended domes and air," she answered shakily.

I internally groaned. I'd brought the girl that was afraid of heights into a glass egg that will eventually reach the top of one of the most imposingly large structures in London.

Fuck.

"Shit," I hissed under my breath. "C'mere." I held out my hands and she stepped forward into my chest without hesitation. I wrapped my arms around her back and rubbed her shoulder blade as soothingly as I knew how.

"Is she all right?" The attendant asked.

"Can we go back down?" I asked, knowing she'd say no.

The girl shook her head regretfully.

I gave her a fleeting tight-lipped smile. At least she asked.

"It's gonna be fine." I promised.

I could honestly say that knowing that the chances of anything going severely wrong were next to nothing. She kept her face buried in my jacket though for the next fifteen minutes; arms around my waist tightly as if she were trying to make the world disappear around us.

"Look at me," I murmured. "Talk to me, honey. It'll help take your mind off things."

She remained silent for a few tense moments, but right as I was about to give up hope that she'd come back out of my collar anytime soon, she started talking.

"When I was seven I was playing with a little dolls car convertible thing on the balcony and it went over the edge but got caught on the jagged concrete. When I went to get it my father came out and yelled at me. He told me that if I was going to test gravity that he'd just let me fall for being so stupid," she divulged, speaking very quickly.

I found myself frowning with confusion. Was she just telling me random facts, or was she trying to explain why she was scared of heights?

"When I was twelve, I was on the second floor of the school with some of my friends; there were two or three that were already starting to smoke and that was the only place they never got caught. The rest of us were playing with a tennis ball—bouncing it to each other—and it came at me when I wasn't expecting it. I flinched away from it and fell over the railing to the courtyard below. My tibia snapped in half and gave me a compound fracture that's the reason for the scar on my leg that is still visible after tens of thousands of dollars of plastic surgery and scar lightening laser treatments that my mother insisted I have so I didn't have some horrendously disfiguring scar." She paused and drew in a breath then turned her head to the side on my chest so her ear was over my heart. I thought maybe she was finished, but after sniffing back her tears, she continued with one last recount.

"And last year, I was in a glass elevator that defected and started dropping and lifting for three minutes. And when the emergency response team finally pried the doors open it dropped down and nearly cut off one of the men's hands. There was blood everywhere and we were all screaming. By the time they finally got it leveled out with the opening fifteen minutes later my friend, Jessica, had passed out and her boyfriend, Michael, had puked all over the floor. That's why I not only have an aversion to heights, but to glass boxes too."

I stood there mutely, holding her to me as we reached the highest point on the giant wheel and tried to think of something appropriate to say.

"You've got a scar?" I asked after a minute or so, too surprised to think of anything else to say. I didn't recall one and I'd spent quite a bit of time around her legs, so I ran with that to keep the awkwardness down.

Rosalie laughed hoarsely. "Yeah, I'll show you later."

"Promise?"

I felt her cheek firm up and she chuckled softly. "Yes, Jake. I promise to show you my leg."

"'kay. I'm sorry for this, sweetie. I should have asked if it was okay."

"It's not exactly the kind of thing you ask someone on the fourth day you've known them. We don't even know each other's middle names yet, let alone our in-depth phobias. You're forgiven," she accepted and loosened her hold a little while taking a deep, calming breath.

"Nicholas," I said quietly. "That's my middle name. My dad wanted to call me Nicholas, my mom wanted Jacob, after he saw her in labor he gave her whatever she wanted."

She nodded gently. "Lillian. It was my grandmother's middle name."

"We're making astounding progress," I commented. "First actual date and I've already learnt your full name and your biggest fear. At this rate, we'll be engaged by Friday."

"I doubt it. Even if you pull some amazingly romantic gesture, I'm really not the marrying type. I think it ruins something completely personal by making it a legal contract. Then if it fails there's the whole dividing of assets and divorce shit to do. And even if it doesn't, you'll spend the rest of your life trying to fit each other in. If my mother wants to spend any time with my father throughout the day, she has to call his assistant and have her keep a time slot open and vice versa. I know it's not like that with normal people, but it happens and I don't want that kind of life."

Speechless would probably be the right word. I made a joke to lighten the tension, and she had a whole argument for it. She didn't seem like a commitment-phobe; she just had valid reasons for not wanting to get married.

"So that'd be a no on the spontaneous proposal?" I asked in a lame attempt to turn it into a joke.

"Please don't," she requested, shaking her head.

I huffed dramatically. "Dammit. Stop the ride, people, she said no."

"Yes, please do," Rose muttered, but didn't hide her face again.

I pursed my lips tight, annoyed with myself again for bringing her here without checking, and then gave her a little squeeze.

"You're okay," I assured her. "I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you."

"You can't control everything," she whispered as if hoping that I wouldn't hear it.

I laughed under my breath and repositioned my arms lower down her back. "I'm going to kiss you now."

She looked up to me and her brow furrowed. "Why?"

"Because I can control that," I replied and then softly pressed my lips to hers.

When I went to pull back a few seconds later, she pushed herself up higher to keep the contact. It confused me for a second, but then I realized she probably wanted it for the comfort, so I kissed her back for the next ten minutes of the descent, and then had to half carry her out when we reached the bottom and she informed me that her legs didn't work properly anymore.

At least part of her reaction was as I'd planned.

Even if we were only making out because she was panicking.


Tuesday—The Wolseley


"Are you allergic to anything?"

"You're going to order for me?"

"Half the menu's in French."

"It's a good thing I learnt French in high school then, huh?"

"Why do I find that hot?"

"Because you're a pervert."

"True." I agreed with a nod. "So what are you having?"

Rose picked up the menu from in front of me and regarded it for a few seconds before turning to the waiter.

"The Plats du Jour, please. Are they button mushrooms?"

The waiter nodded. "And for you, sir?" he asked, turning his attention to me.

Rose went to hand me the menu, but I refused. "I'd rather you did it," I told her, then lowered my voice to a whisper so she'd be the only one to hear. "Speak slowly."

Just as I'd expected, she rolled her eyes. "He'll have the Severne & Wye Smoked Salmon."

"Excellent," the waiter said before soundlessly walking towards the kitchen.

"You didn't pick something with a French title," I both stated and chastised.

"Oh." She looked to me eyes, feigning surprise. "I didn't know that's what you wanted. Je suis désolé, je ne voulais pas vous décevoir." Her voice switched to a condescending coo as soon as she started speaking French—with good reason.

"Apologizing in an impugning manner is not what I meant," I muttered.

"Je suis désolé, bébé," she murmured. Her right hand raised to my head and she gently combed her fingers from my left temple to the nape of my neck.

I let her, because quite frankly I wasn't sure what to do. We stared back at each other for a few seconds, then the instant her gaze dropped to my lips she pulled her hand back as if it had suddenly become inappropriate for her to touch me.

I reached around under the table and slipped my hand between her thighs snugly, giving it a little squeeze. "You don't have to be terrified, halfway up a giant wheel, to be allowed to touch me in public." I kept my voice soft and even; she seemed to relax a little with that.

"I just worry," she admitted quietly.

Me too, I thought in agreement and gently rubbed my thumb over her leg. "About?"I asked aloud.

"Nothing. It's silly." She tried to dismiss the topic with a wave of her hand, but I couldn't just yet.

"You're worried your parents are gonna walk in," I guessed, saying it like a statement so she'd be less likely to deny it if it was the truth.

"No," she instantly denied. "I'm not ashamed of you if that's what you think."

"Well I didn't before, but now..." I teased, squeezing her leg again.

Rosalie tapped the hand between her thighs, and then pulled it free to hold it in her own. "Jake, don't," she mumbled, then drew in a long breath. "This really isn't the place."

I couldn't help but frown, not bothering to conceal it. "Isn't the place for what?"

"Please," she begged in a whisper.

"We will talk about this," I stated firmly.

"Why does that sound like a threat?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.

"It's a promise."

"Same thing," she argued.

"It can only be a threat if what I'm promising is something that's going to hurt you. Is it going to hurt you to talk about whatever you're avoiding?"

She didn't respond.

I hadn't seen this stubborn, bitchy side since the day we landed. Instantly, I reverted to the way I was with her then too.

"Are we going to make it through the rest of today without having a massive blow up?"

"I hope so," she said, avoiding my eyes.

In an attempt to try and defuse the situation a little, I scooted my chair a bit closer—careful to keep it from making any noise as I was sure that's all it would take to send her over the edge.

"What are you so panicked about?" I asked quietly. So far, none of the other tables had noticed our argument. I wanted to keep it that way.

Her jaw tightened in the back for a moment, but then she exhaled a drawn-out breath and leant closer to me.

"Just remember that I told you it's stupid," she said so quietly I had to strain to hear.

I nodded. "Okay."

Her face changed to a deep shade of red in just a few seconds and her mouth opened and closed as she tried to force out the words. "I . . . I'm, fuck me, I'm not wearing any panties, okay?"

It took me a second to realize what she'd said, but as the words computed my face twisted into a broad grin and I had to clench my teeth and stop breathing in order to keep what I was certain would be a total roar of laughter from bursting out.

Rosalie seemed to be paralyzed and not breathing either.

Holy fuck. Is she legit?!

Unable to keep my curiosity down, I turned my hand out of hers and slipped it back between her thighs, sliding up until my pinkie came in contact with a very familiar place and slightly pushed between the lips.

Oh my sweet Jesus in heaven. She did it.

Rose snapped out of the mortified trance then and quickly pulled my hand away, enclosing it in both of hers this time.

"I can't believe it," I whispered, still beaming uncontrollably. "That's why you're so uptight about touching me."

Her eyes pinched in at the corners. "Well there's nothing between me and the seat beside this dress and it doesn't come all the way down when I'm sitting, Jake."

The laughter began to seep out then, starting as just an excess of air forcing its way through my teeth, but quickly progressed to tiny choking noises that I had to cover my mouth to repress.

"Well I was going to suggest we have sex in the bathroom between courses but now you can shove that idea up your ass!"

My head fell back then and a slightly loud snort escaped, likely alerting the table directly across from us to the scene. I wasn't sure if this was the best, or the stupidest thing I'd ever been a part of. Either way, it was fucking awesome.

"Oh God, Rose," I pulled my head back down to a straight position, but as soon as my eyes met hers again I couldn't keep from laughing into my chest once more. "You're totally crazy."

The waiter returned then, holding my plate of salmon with a very stiff look on his face like he'd noticed our disruptive behavior.

"Do you guys have any kind of hard liquor?" I asked as he sat the plate down.

He smiled tightly, nodding. "Perhaps a bottle of wine?"

I brushed off the obvious disapproval he was putting out at my question and answered steadily. "Bourbon or scotch."

"One moment." He was gone the next second, weaving back around the tables to the kitchen door.

"And here I was thinking my father was the only person to order scotch in a restaurant and not find it strange," Rosalie said under her breath, still clasping my hand tightly.

"I'm beginning to see why he might need it," I chuckled, playfully trying to push my hand back between her legs again.

"Jake, stop," she hissed. "I'm not playing."

I grinned at her crookedly. "I am."

Once again, the waiter returned holding the glass just slightly out from his body like he was carrying some kind of infectious Petri-dish.

"Ardbeg 1990 single malt scotch."

I smiled politely as he sat the glass down. "Thank you."

"Your meal is just going to be another two or three minutes, Miss," he informed Rose and then promptly left without another word.

I'd expected her to be a little bit more upset with me than she appeared to be, but since she didn't seem to care, I decided to push my luck and attempt to make a joke of the situation.

"I think I pissed off the moody Brit," I said, leaning toward her a little.

Her lips pulled up instantly. "Oh well."

My smile widened. Maybe we could have fun today after all.

It was then that I picked up my glass though.

It was then that I raised it to my mouth.

"C'mon, Jake, don't..."

And it was then that Rose reached over to take it from me and managed to upturn the glass and spill the entire contents onto my lap.

"Holy fuck," she squeaked, looking down to the brown fluid running down from my pants to the chair and then off to the floor.

Or maybe we couldn't...


Wednesday—The Elevator, somewhere above the lobby


"Rose! No!" I grabbed her shoulders and pulled her up, only to be kissed so suddenly that I got startled and let her go.

She dropped back down so her head was in line with my waist and returned to her unbuttoning of my pants.

I tried to pull away to stop her, but just backed myself into a corner and made it even easier for Rosalie to keep me in her grip than it already was in this tiny box.

"Your parents could walk in," I reminded her, fumbling for a hold on her that wouldn't hurt if pulled. Her hands were moving too fast and the only other thing in reach was her hair, which I wasn't too keen on yanking in this particular context.

"My parents have gone to Brighton tonight. They won't be back until morning," she informed me cheekily then whipped my fly down in a flash.

"The doors could open, someone could call for the elevator," I tried again. Her fingers curled into the sides of my pants and with a sharp yank they were pulled from my hips and gathered at my knees. "Rose!" I growled again, frustrated that she wasn't listening.

"What?" she sighed, looking up at me with annoyance. Her hands kept working my semi, but her eyes remained on mine.

"It's not safe," I pointed out.

"Neither was the restaurant." She shrugged then dipped forward and swiped the head with her warm, wet tongue.

I mentally scoffed at her comparison of two completely different situations. A hand under a table was not the same as her getting on her knees in an exposed elevator.

"Your dick smells like scotch," she announced.

I nodded with a sigh. "If I scrubbed any harder the skin would have come off. Now kindly step away from my alcoholic cock and stop trying to blow me."

"Huh…" she murmured in a surprised tone. "I thought I'd heard it all." We both remained silent for a long moment as I waited for her to release me and get up. "Oh well." She shrugged and, without another word, she slid her mouth over me.

"Whoa! Shit, you've gotta stop, Rose, uh, fuck!" I reached down to her head, intending to pull her away, but when my fingers touched her hair I started stroking her silky blonde waves instead. "Okay, don't stop," I breathed out on an exhale.

She began moving, licking her tongue along the underside of my shaft each time she slid me in and out of her mouth. After a few thrusts, she paused when I was at the back of her mouth and swallowed a bit so her throat pulled me in further. I actually got a little winded in that second.

As she pulled back, she sucked deeply so that as my dick came out of her mouth it was practically dry, and then slid me back into the wet heat as far as she could in one smooth motion. I groaned and involuntarily rocked my hips forward, pushing in deeper, but she didn't resist or protest.

Her left hand cupped my balls and gently massaged them in an alternating rhythm to her mouth.

"Oh fuck!" I gasped when the first twinges of an impossibly fast orgasm started in my crotch.

Rose hummed to show her appreciation of my reaction and swallowed me deep into her throat again, getting a louder wordless moan in response.

I gently thrust a few inches in and out of her mouth, allowing her to move at her leisure as we went. The muscles in my lower stomach began clenching and waves of heat spread up my back. I tapped her jaw a little, wordlessly tell her to move away, but—stubborn as ever—she bobbed a few more time, bringing me right to the edge before she sank right now and I came down her throat.

Oh God, she was incredible. No one had ever managed to make me come this hard every single time.

"Will you get up now please?" I asked breathlessly.

She pulled my pants back up for the most part then stood up again and returned to her previous position beside me.

"You're insane," I laughed as I did up my pants.

"You're welcome, honey." Her eyes flickered sideways to me and she smiled cheekily.

"I'm gonna get you back for that, trust me."

"I think I can take it," she decided with a wink.

I pressed the button for my floor, just one below where we were it turns out. "I hope so—it's not fun if you cave in."

The doors opened a few seconds after I pressed the button and we both stepped out. I fished around in the dozen pockets of my cargo pants for the room key, finding it in the one next to my left knee, and then let the two of us in before closing the door with attention getting force.

Rose turned to me, one eyebrow raised at the action.

"I'm getting in the shower and you're coming with me. You poured the scotch on my crotch and you can damn well get it out. I don't get off on my dick smelling like a bar," I said seriously.

She cracked a smile, but didn't say anything to argue.

With a directing jerk of my head, she began walking to the bathroom door, undoing her coat as she went then dropped it on the floor outside the door before pulling her shirt off over her head too.

"Coming?" she asked with one foot in the door.

I nodded, yes, and started walking forward as she disappeared into the room.


Thursday—The Four Seasons Hotel


We'd unofficially decided to stay in the hotel for our last day in London. If things didn't go favorably back in New York it could be a few days or weeks before we'd be able to see each other again.

So we watched a movie, she beat me a few times at poker—totally intentional on my part—and now we'd stopped to have a late lunch of pasta followed by drinks.

If I could manage it...

I looked over to where Rose was standing out on the balcony, then back to the bartending recipe to check one final time before mixing. Vodka martini's had to be the simplest drink known to man besides straight alcohol, but if there were a way to mess it up and make poison instead, I'd be the culinary disaster to do it.

Twice as much vodka as vermouth, I mentally repeated and daringly picked up the measuring cup.

"Jake, seriously, it's not that hard. Do you want me to play bartender?" Rose called in through the open sliding door.

"It's cool. I've got it under control," I replied and then poured one measurement of vermouth into the shaker over the ice I'd already half filled it with.

She laughed light-heartedly. "It's not a hostage negotiation. I've got it under control; he's sending out the first hostage."

I rolled my eyes. "That's what you think. You're yet to consume something other than water that I've had any hand in making. I have an uncanny ability to convert every day food items into something combustible or poisonous."

While she laughed again, I poured two measuring cups of vodka into the shaker with the vermouth and ice then screwed on the lid and quickly started shaking before the ice melted too much after my hesitant mixing and turned the whole thing into a watered down mess.

"Under the right conditions, shit becomes a high explosive. But, in all my life, I'm yet to see even one instance of it bursting into flames. I think the odds are on your side," she decided with a condescending tone.

This time, I didn't respond. I couldn't argue with her when I knew that what I was saying was in fact completely unlikely paranoia. So I twisted the lid back so the opening with in line with the strainer, and poured the chilled alcohol into the martini glasses.

A little more confidently, I speared two olives on each toothpick and dropped them in the drinks, then picked them up and headed for the door.

"Made it out of the chemical lab without an explosion, I see," Rosalie teased as she took her glass with a quick, appreciative smile.

I hummed quietly and took a sip of my drink. Five seconds passed, and I wasn't dead, so I drank another sip. Rose did the same and ate one of the olives, then put her drink down on the small, round table.

"I think we're gonna live," she judged confidently and took my glass as well to put it down on the table.

Knowing enough about her spontaneity at this point, I didn't question what she was doing. I'd find out soon enough.

After taking my hands, she walked backwards towards the edge until her ass hit the concrete block railing that was stopping us from falling over to severe injury or death below. She was testing herself, and possibly me as well.

I slipped my hands around her waist and stepped right up between her knees—her hands went to my shoulders at the same time. A little anxiety bubbled within me as I held her. She was trusting me to keep her safe.

"What happened to your fear of falling to a splattering death?" I asked, trying to hide the uncertainty from my voice.

"I'm hoping you won't let that happen," she murmured, massaging my shoulders gently with her thumbs. Her eyes flickered up to mine and my breathing instantly stuttered as I looked back at the sparkling blue iris'.

"I..." My voice trailed off to a whisper; my fingertips started slowly caressing her back. Like you, want you, wouldn't let anything hurt you... love—no, that's ridiculous. "I promise I won't let you fall," I told her soothingly.

She breathed a gentle sigh of relief and her grip loosened on me. I moved my hands further around her back—not so far that they met—and a little higher up, then stopped.

"Do you trust me?" I asked calmly.

She thought for a second, and then started nodding. "Yeah."

"Then let go," I instructed.

Just as I'd expected, she hesitated. Her bottom lip slipped between her teeth and she kept looking at me with a conflicted expression. Over the past week I'd started paying attention to her more closely than I had anyone before. I knew when she was breathing irregularly; when she was nervous; to a certain degree I even knew what she was thinking.

So I stayed quiet, because I knew she just had to convince herself to let go. She wanted to; she just had to fight her fear.

"I'm scared," she admitted after a minute or so of tense silence.

"You're okay," I assured her. With each moment that passed I became more relaxed and confident. She was no more than one hundred and twenty pounds—no feat to hold up. There was no way in hell I'd allow her to go over the edge.

Bit by bit, her hold loosened on me. One finger at a time. Her hands completely left my skin, but at the same moment, her eyes flickered to the side and over the edge.

"Don't look down," I said quickly before she got too far.

Rose gasped, surprised, and tightened her finger into my shoulder painfully. Her nails had to have been touching the bone.

"Arg, fuck," I hissed under my breath through clenched teeth, scrunching my eyes shut involuntarily.

After a few more seconds, she noticed what she was doing and retracted her nails from my skin. I un-tensed immediately and let my shoulders drop as the burning began.

"Oh shit, I'm sorry!" she squeaked and was now shaking with even more intensity.

"It's okay," I mumbled. About fifteen seconds passed before I opened my eyes again, finding that not only were her hands off me, but they were also not holding onto anything at all.

I didn't point that fact out.

"We shouldn't be doing this. We've been drinking." She decided.

Now comes the lame-ass bargaining. I sighed. "We're not drunk; we're not even affected. You had a sip."

"It was more than a sip, more like a mouthful, a gulp even," she argued, beginning to more ramble by the second.

"It was a tiny, little sip that probably never even made it to your stomach after running down your throat and sticking to the walls. I'm not drunk, I won't drop you, everything's fine," I insisted, holding her more gently now that her arguing the point had steadied her shaking. Trying to get out of this had actually made her take it better by getting her mind off the physical process.

"The alcohol builds up its affect with time. I could get dizzy all of a sudden and slip so fast you couldn't catch me and then the police would figure out that I fell from your balcony and—"

"Please shut up," I interrupted.

"I hurt you," she mumbled.

I dipped down and kissed her forehead quickly, keeping my lips against her skin. "I'm fine. It just stings a little bit," I explained.

"I'm sorry," she repeated.

"It's okay, baby," I murmured to her softly, then curved down lower and kissed her lips. Her mouth cautiously left mine after a few moments and moved down my jaw, kissing every few inches as she continued along to my throat and then my collarbone.

She reached my shoulder and got even gentler as she kissed near the aching marks. "I'm so sorry," she mumbled once again. "Fuck, you're bleeding." Her fingertips skimmed over my shirt where I assumed dots of blood were.

"I'm not dying," I assured her. I let my hands slide down to her hips and took my purchase there rather than her back.

Once she'd reached the joint to my arm, she stopped with the kisses and moved back to lean her forehead against my chest. We both stayed still for a while, just listening to each other breathe. It was sort of calming and hypnotizing listening to the repetitive and now synchronized rhythm of our inhales and exhales.

I kissed the top of her head without putting any thought into the action, and then as a few seconds passed I realized and did it again with more conscious intent.

Her legs twisted around my hips tightly and pulled me forward a half step until her crotch was against mine with nothing but my pants and her underwear between us. It didn't take more than that to begin to get a rise out of me. I knew she could feel it since there was probably only a quarter of an inch separating us from where we were now and me being inside her, but she pretended like she hadn't noticed it, so I didn't make a move to go any further.

For now at least.

I let her play her game a little bit longer and instead busied myself with the soft patch of skin now exposed on her shoulder as she leaned forward. Goosebumps started puckering the flesh right across her neck as well as down inside the shirt where I couldn't see as I teasingly sucked and scraped my teeth across the base of her throat and slowly worked up the side to her hairline.

"Jake..." she murmured breathily after a couple of seconds passed and I'd reached the back of her ear. Her hand moved up to the back of my head and her fingers knitted in with my hair as she began to massage my scalp.

I hummed to let her know I'd heard her without moving away from her neck.

She twisted her head to the side to break my contact and make me look at her though. "I'm so horny."

"Here?" It didn't feel like she was trying to indicate that I should move back.

Her head bobbed a little. "Just don't drop me, please."

"Then how would I finish?" I smirked and pulled her a bit closer to the inside of the ledge before I stepped back and reached for my pants.

It took me a few more seconds than usual to get my buttons and fly considering I was doing so one-handed with a pair of legs still locked around my waist. But, as all men on a mission do, I managed and got them open—freeing my now totally hard cock. I heard Rose suck in a deep breath as she looked down and then she ducked her head under my face and started kissing me again, pulling in tighter with her legs at the same time.

"God, I've missed this," she whispered quickly while taking a breath.

I stepped right back up against her and used my left hand to guide my shaft to her and pull the panties to the side at the same time before wedging the head between her slick folds, just nudging at the end trance without going in. The hand went back to her thigh then and I paused for a long moment.

"I missed it more," I sighed heavily, getting used to the feeling for a few seconds before getting properly started.

I thrust into her in one slow, smooth motion and let out a long groan when I bottomed out. Dear God she felt so good.

"Jake, please move, or do something." Rose licked her lips quickly. "… anything."

I ran my hands up her thighs and settled them on her hips as I pulled back until I was about halfway out before I pushed back in a little rougher than the first time. She'd had started to shiver now; I didn't know if she was cold, or just anxious for me to start.

Either way, I could kill two birds with one stone if I got her heart rate up.

Even though we'd both relaxed in this precarious spot, I was still conscious of the fact she was sitting on a concrete block five stories in the air. My hands held her a little tighter than usual as I pulled back again and began thrusting into her, harder each time until we were both breathless and moaning.

Her hands grabbed hold of my biceps, nails biting at my skin as she tried to hold on without hurting me. I thrust up higher into her, hitting the deepest nerves and grind into her clit at the same time, and that made her scream loud enough to definitely alert the neighboring rooms.

"Oh fuck!" Rose gasped as she came down from her sudden high, her head dropped forward against my chest for a moment, then straightened up again as I continued pounding into her.

She was so tight and slick around my cock, I knew I wouldn't last too long. We hadn't had actual sex since Sunday and I'd quickly built up a craving in that time, as well as a bit of a loss of endurance from the pure anticipation.

Her whimpers and panting turned me on even further and made me more daring to please her. I centered my left hand right in the middle of her back and tentatively moved my right hand around her ribs to her stomach then down to her pelvis. My fingers splayed over her skin while my thumb dipped lower into the wet heat between her folds to her clit.

I gently rubbed just the surface, teasing, as I continued gliding in and out of her.

"Faster," she begged. "Please, uh… yeah like that. Oh God… ungh, shit." A short scream broke her lips against her will and I quickly smothered it with my mouth in the hopes that the other visitors wouldn't come out to investigate the sounds.

We kissed without stopping for the next few minutes—I kept up the teasing circles as we did, just giving her that little bit extra without pushing too far.

"Please, Jake," she shuddered a little and flexed her fingertips against my arms again as I flicked the very tip of my thumb over her swollen nub a bit firmer than before when she spoke.

I quickly licked my lips before speaking. "Please what?" I asked, though I already knew.

"Let me come," she answered, dazed and almost sweet now. "Please, I just need a little bit more pressure."

My lips grazed over her temple softly and I placed a feather-light kiss there. Okay, I agreed in my head.

Without warning, I picked up the speed and rubbed deeper circles with my thumb and she instantly gasped in a loud, deep breath—needing more air as her orgasm built up.

A mass of white spots flooded my vision and I grabbed hold of her tighter with both hands—a section in the back of my mind was still entirely focused on her safety. Faster and harder we slammed together until she came and took me with her into the haze with two simultaneous cries of pleasure. It was maybe the second time in my life that I'd finished at the same time as the girl, and there was definitely an appeal.

When I opened my eyes and everything came back into focus, I was relieved to find we were both still in the same position. Steady on the balcony. Dangerously reckless, yes. But fun as hell and totally worth it, hell yeah.


Thanks for reading :) I wish I could make the promises I did in the beginning, but the truth is I can't. When this next gets updated is unsure and I apologize for that.