All Jacked Up Read Online Free Page A

again. She wrapped her legs around him, digging her heels into the small of his back and pulling herself more tightly against him.
    He managed somehow to slide a hand between them without losing his balance, reached for her clit and stroked it hard and fast. Because he was so ready. So very ready. And some shred of his brain told him not to leave her behind.
    “Come, baby,” he gritted. “Now, now, now.”
    Then he felt it, the tightening of her body, spasms fluttering through her cunt, building in intensity. And he let go, pouring himself in hot spurts into the latex reservoir, shuddering until he thought his body would come apart at the joints.

Chapter Three

    Jack realised he’d forgotten to close the blinds when hot, bright sunlight slammed into his bedroom. He flung an arm across his face, covering his eyes. He shifted on the mattress and when he did he came in contact with another warm body.
    A warm body?
    Shock slapped at him like an ice bath. Had he brought someone home last night? He never brought women to his place. Always theirs. So when he discovered it was yet another mistake he could walk away and not have to worry about a messy morning-after. So what was a body doing in his bed? Who the hell was it? Just how drunk had he got last night?
    Prising one eye open with great reluctance he panicked at what he saw. The head on the pillow next to him was covered with very short, black spiky hair. He saw a delicate ear and the smooth curve of a cheek. The graceful line of a naked shoulder and arm and—
    Naked? Naked?
    Apprehensively he drew back the sheet a little. Yup. There was a whole naked body lying next to him. And not one of the full-breasted long-legged women he usually fucked. This one was almost pint-sized, although perfectly formed. He couldn’t help but admire the curve of her ass and the sweep of thigh.
    He dropped the sheet as if it was fire burning his fingers. What the hell was he doing, admiring some woman in his bed? He didn’t even know who the fuck she was. And he suddenly realised he was just as naked as she was. His stomach cramped and his head throbbed. What had he got himself into? As carefully as he could he tried to manoeuvre himself out of the bed. But just as he’d moved over far enough to ease his feet to the floor the little pixie turned over, sighed and opened her eyes.
    “Oh my god!” she screamed, sat up and yanked the covers up to her chin.
    Jack was so startled he fell off the mattress to the floor, painfully bumping his hip against the nightstand.
    “Fuck,” he grunted as he heaved himself to his feet.
    “You’re naked!” the pixie screeched at him.
    “So are you,” he pointed out as he limped over to his dresser.
    He yanked open a drawer, took out a pair of sweat pants and pulled them on. When he turned around the pixie was out of his bed, backing towards a corner, and wrapped in a sheet. There was so much fabric for such a small person she looked as if she was about to be mummified. Her cheeks were a bright red and she was clutching the sheet in a death grip.
    “I’m sorry for yelling,” she said.
    “Okay, so am I.” He studied her. “Just who the hell are you?”
    The flush staining her face deepened. “You don’t remember? Anything? Last night? None of it?”
    He frowned. “Last night? What about it?”
    She sighed and backed even further away from him. “Eli’s? Your birthday? One drink or five too many?”
    Then it clicked into place. All of it. Everything. Passing out at Eli’s. The pixie driving him home. Somehow getting him into his house. And all the rest of it. The shower. The very hot sex…
    Holy fucking shit!
    “I, um, that is…” What did you say to someone under these circumstances?
    “Darcy.” She glared at him.
    “Excuse me?”
    “My name. It’s Darcy. In case you’ve forgotten that along with everything else.”
    “Darcy.” He tried it on for size. He’d taken a woman named Darcy home with him? He shook his head.
    “Yes,”