summary: after pretending to be madly in love with jason duval all night, you realise that he isn't such an asshole after all!
warnings: fake dating trope, sexual tension, breast sucking, car sex, creampie
notes: based off of this ask :) i rly hope the anon who requested this sees it. also this being my first jason fic.... let me know what you all think angels
word count: 11.8k (sorry)
âNo,â you said. You couldnât have come up with a more ridiculous idea yourself.
âNo,â you repeated, more firmly this time.
âWell, thatâs too bad.â Raul remained infuriatingly calm. âIâve already filled Duval in on whatâs going on.â
He settled back in his chair, watching you as though your refusal were nothing more than an inconvenience he had already accounted for.
âSo, unfortunately, this isnât really up for discussion.â He shrugged. âSorry sweetheart.â
For a moment, you stared at him, certain you must have misunderstood. Then the full meaning of his words settled in, and heat climbed your neck.
âWhat the fuck?â you shot back. âYou did all of this without even running it by me first?â
Raul opened his mouth to respond, but you cut him off.
âYou know exactly how I feel about that piece of shit.â A disbelieving laugh slipped out as you raked a hand through your hair. âAnd you still went behind my back and cooked up some scheme that requires me to play house with him just to get close to some rich asshole?"
Once you started, the words came too quickly for him to interrupt.
âSeriously Raul? You filled Jason in before you even considered talking to me?"
âLook, I knew that if I came to you first, youâd say no.â
You opened your mouth to argue, but Raul pressed on.
âAnd before you ask why it had to be you, itâs because youâre the perfect woman for the job.â The satisfaction faded from his expression as he crossed his arms, his gaze turning serious. âWhether you want to hear it or not, youâre an amazing fucking actress. You can make people believe whatever you need them to believe, and that's exactly what this job requires.â
Silence settled between you.
You hated that his words struck a nerve. Hated the way they lingered in the back of your mind, forcing you to consider the possibility that he might actually have a point. Raul had seen you charm your way into private parties, disappear into crowds that should have questioned your presence, and slip into invented identities as easily as changing clothes. If this absurd plan needed someone capable of selling a lie, then unfortunately, he had chosen well. Knowing that did nothing to make you less furious.
You folded your arms across your chest, nails digging into your sleeves. âSo because Iâm "good at the job", you get to make the decision for me?â
âI never said that,â Raul leaned back in his chair. âI made the call to bring it to Duval first, but that doesnât mean Iâm forcing you into anything.â
You stared at him for a moment before letting out an incredulous laugh.
âReally? Because five seconds ago, you told me this wasnât up for discussion.â
A flicker of irritation crossed Raulâs face.
âLook,â he sighed, his tone softening slightly, âI know you canât be in the same room as Duval for more than five minutes without wanting to strangle him. Believe me, I havenât forgotten. But he doesnât have an issue working with you, and once the job starts, youâll manage. You always do.â
Your nails pressed harder into your sleeves at the mention of him.
âAnd if everything goes according to plan,â Raul said, watching you carefully, âyou and Duval walk away with more money than either of you has seen in months.â
You opened your mouth, but no answer came. The pause lasted less than a second, though it was still long enough for Raul to notice.
âThought so,â he murmured, the corner of his mouth lifting.
Four hours later, you were slouched in the back of a cab as it cut through the neon lit streets of Vice City, beginning to regret the exact moment you had let the promise of money change your mind.
The Paradise Hotel rose ahead of you, its glass facade blazing against the night. Calling it a hotel almost felt insulting. It looked more like a palace dropped into the middle of the city, with gold light spilling from towering windows onto the broad marble entrance below. Luxury cars lined the curb while valets hurried between them, collecting keys from sharply dressed guests before they disappeared through the revolving doors.
The longer you looked at the place, the more believable Raulâs promise of a decent cut became.
You shifted against the leather seat and tugged the fur coat tighter around your shoulders. Beneath it, the short black dress made you look as though you belonged among the cityâs elite. The pistol strapped high against your thigh told a different story.
Places like this didnât attract ordinary people. Everyone passing through those doors was either obscenely wealthy or desperate to appear that way, and the amount of money changing hands inside was probably more than most people would see in a lifetime.
Unfortunately, the money came with a condition.
Even now, the thought of spending the entire evening glued to his side made you cringe. The man was impossibly arrogant, too charming for his own good and painfully aware of it. He carried himself with the confidence of someone who had never once needed another personâs approval, and tonight you were expected to smile, hold his hand, and convince a room full of strangers that the two of you were hopelessly in love.
âHereâs good,â you told the driver, reaching for the door handle.
The cab eased to the curb, its engine humming beneath the distant pulse of music spilling from the surrounding bars and clubs. The driver glanced at you through the rearview mirror and offered a polite smile.
âHave a good night, miss.â
You pushed open the door and stepped onto the pavement, warm night air washing over your skin.
You swung the door shut and turned toward the hotel. Up close, the place was even more excessive. Gold trimmed balconies climbed the gleaming facade, while doormen and valets moved briskly beneath the grand entrance. Guests dressed in designer clothes and dripping in jewellery stepped out of polished sports cars, barely pausing before attendants swept in to greet them. Through the revolving doors, you caught glimpses of crystal chandeliers, marble columns, and soft amber light.
You adjusted the fur coat around your shoulders and searched the entrance for Jason. Raul had been very clear: Jason would meet you outside before the two of you went in together.
Except he was nowhere to be seen.
You scanned the crowd again. Couples laughed as they climbed out of sleek cars, businessmen barked into their phones, and tourists craned their necks at the hotelâs facade, but there was still no sign of him.
Of course he was late. Jason had a remarkable talent for showing up behind schedule to meetings, jobs, and anything else that required another person to wait for him. Apparently, pretending to be your boyfriend for the evening wasnât important enough to break the habit.
You slipped a hand into your coat pocket and reached for your phone, already preparing yourself for whatever infuriating excuse he was about to give.
The voice came from directly behind you, causing you to nearly jump out of your skin.
Whirling around, your heart hammering against your ribs, you found Jason standing a few feet away with one hand shoved into his jacket pocket, looking as though he hadnât just taken ten years off your life.
âWhat the fuck is wrong with you?!â you snapped. âDonât scare me like that, you fucking asshole.â
"Oh nut up will ya? I barely did anything." Jason said.
His eyes travelled over you as he spoke, taking in the black dress, the fur coat draped around your shoulders, and the heels you had reluctantly agreed to wear. His gaze lingered for a moment before the familiar smirk returned.
You braced yourself for whatever smart comment he was about to make.
âYou clean up pretty well,â he said.
âI didnât dress up for your approval,â you muttered, shoving the phone back into your pocket.
Jason only shrugged, maddeningly unbothered, though his gaze lingered on you for another moment before he looked away toward the towering hotel behind you.
âCome on,â he said, jerking his head toward the entrance.
You fell into step beside him, crossing the pavement through a steady stream of arriving guests while valets hurried around you. With every step, the prospect of spending the evening pretending to adore him became harder to ignore.
Eager to move past his compliment, you shoved your hands into the pockets of your coat. âSo, let me get this straight. We have to cozy up to Jordan Bardot and somehow gain access to his fucking bedroom?â
You shot him an incredulous look. âAnd I have to pretend to be your girlfriend?â
That earned a laugh from him.
You dragged a hand over your face. âWhy canât we do this as business partners? Why do we have to be a couple?â
âRaul figured a wealthy couple would blend in better than two strangers asking questions together,â Jason said. âPeople see a man and a woman on vacation, they stop wondering why theyâre attached at the hip.â
âOh, well, if Raul thought it was a good idea, then who am I to question his infinite wisdom?â
Jason snorted beside you. âDonât shoot the messenger. I didnât come up with the plan.â
âFunny,â you muttered, eyeing the entrance ahead. âBecause somehow I still feel like Iâm the one being punished.â
Jason laughed under his breath but didnât bother replying. By then, the two of you had reached the foot of the wide marble steps, where impeccably dressed guests streamed toward the revolving doors beneath the golden light spilling from the chandeliers inside.
You had barely set foot on the first step when Jasonâs hand closed around yours.
"What the hell are you doing?" you sneered.
"What's it look like? I'm playing my part."
You begrudgingly let him tug you forward, muttering a curse beneath your breath. His grip loosened once he was sure you weren't about to yank your hand away.
To you, it was nothing more than Jason taking the cover too seriously. You failed to notice how naturally his fingers settled between yours or how quickly he looked away when you finally stopped resisting.
The closer you got to the entrance, the more aware you became of the warmth of his hand around yours, a detail that irritated you far more than it should have.
Still holding hands, you moved through the revolving door together.
The noise of Vice City faded behind the glass, replaced by the subdued hum of conversation and the delicate clink of expensive glassware. By the time you emerged into the lobby, you had slowed without meaning to.
The first floor was enormous. Crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, casting golden light across marble floors that seemed to stretch in every direction. An impossibly long reception desk dominated the space ahead, staffed by impeccably dressed employees wearing polished, practiced smiles. Ornate archways opened onto private lounges and restaurants, while broad corridors led toward conference rooms, elevators, and other parts of the hotel.
Guests drifted through the lobby in small groups, dressed in tailored suits and silk gowns. Waiters carrying silver trays wove between them, offering champagne and tiny hors dâoeuvres with effortless precision.
And here you were, holding Jasonâs hand and resisting the urge to pull away.
The more you looked around, the more the cover began to make sense. Places like this thrived on appearances. No one questioned an attractive couple dressed for the occasion, especially in a hotel filled with wealthy socialites and businessmen. If anything, you and Jason blended into the crowd disturbingly well.
That realisation did little to improve your mood.
Without breaking stride, Jason guided you toward a dimly lit bar on the far side of the lobby. A red velvet rope stretched across the entrance, guarded by a broad shouldered bouncer wearing a dark suit and an earpiece.
As you approached, your stomach tightened. Jason felt the tension in your hand before you realized you had squeezed his. His fingers tightened around yours in response, the gesture brief and unexpectedly gentle.
You shot him a suspicious look, but his attention remained fixed on the bouncer ahead. Whatever he was trying to say with the gesture, you weren't interested in figuring it out.
The bouncer raised a hand, stopping you before his gaze moved between your faces.
Jason answered without hesitation.
âHarry Dean and Naomi Alden.â
Naomi Alden. Of all the names Raul could have chosen.
You fought the urge to grimace. The faint twitch at the corner of Jasonâs mouth told you he had noticed, though he recovered quickly enough to keep the amusement from reaching his eyes.
The bouncer lowered his gaze to the clipboard in his hands and ran one finger slowly down the list. For a moment, the only sounds were the low thrum of music beyond the doorway and the distant murmur of the lobby behind you.
Then apparently satisfied, he nodded.
He unclipped the velvet rope from its brass post and stepped aside.
Jason squeezed your hand once more. To you, it was probably another attempt to annoy you, or a silent warning to stay in character.
Before you could dwell on the gesture, he led you through the doorway and into the party, your fingers still laced together as though the two of you had been doing this for years.
The moment you crossed the threshold, the restrained elegance of the lobby gave way to something louder and far more indulgent.
The private bar was less a bar than a ballroom built for people with too much money and no reason to hide it. Music rolled through the enormous room beneath the constant murmur of conversation, punctuated by the clatter of poker chips and sudden bursts of laughter. Crystal chandeliers cast warm light over crowded gaming tables, velvet seating areas, and a marble bar that stretched almost the entire length of the far wall. Behind it, bartenders worked with practiced speed, filling champagne flutes and sliding crystal tumblers toward guests without ever appearing rushed.
The place was packed with Vice Cityâs elite, politicians, socialites, corporate executives, old money heirs, and celebrities you vaguely recognised from magazine covers. Women draped in silk and diamonds laughed over glasses of wine, while men in tailored suits gathered in tight circles and spoke quietly about deals worth more than you could imagine.
Poker tables were scattered throughout the room, each surrounded by sharply dressed guests placing absurd bets with casual indifference. Chips clicked against polished wood, cards snapped against green felt, and occasional cheers or frustrated groans rose above the steady hum of conversation. Waiters carrying silver trays wove through it all with effortless precision, slipping between players and partygoers as though the entire evening had been rehearsed.
Without thinking, you pulled your hand from Jasonâs.
His gaze dropped briefly to the empty space between you before returning to your face. Whatever crossed his expression disappeared so quickly that all you caught was the familiar hint of a smirk.
âAre you gonna be like this all night?â
You scoffed. âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â
Jason pushed his hands into his pockets and leaned closer, keeping his voice beneath the music. âIt means people are supposed to believe you actually want to be here with me. Pulling away the second we get through the door isnât exactly helping.â
You rolled your eyes, though a small part of you knew he was right.
That was the problem with Jason. He was arrogant, smug, and infuriatingly comfortable wherever he went. He had an answer for everything and a habit of treating every argument like something designed for his personal entertainment.
Your gaze moved back across the room. At the nearest poker table, a businessman pushed forward a stack of chips that looked worth more than you usually made in six months. Across from him, a woman dripping in diamonds watched without so much as blinking.
The longer you looked, the more convinced you became that the payout would be worth enduring Jason for a few hours.
Your eyes returned to him. After a momentâs hesitation, you released a quiet breath. âI suppose so.â
Before you could second guess the decision, you slipped your hand back into his.
Jason looked down at your joined hands. Something shifted in his expression before the familiar amusement returned.
You rolled your eyes at whatever smug satisfaction he was getting out of being right and turned your attention back to the room.
As the two of you pretended to survey the party, your gaze settled on a poker table near the back of the room.
A man in his early sixties occupied the center seat, his brown hair thinning slightly at the temples and combed carefully back. His expensive suit pulled a little too tightly across his stomach, and a glass of whiskey rested near one hand. The warmth in his cheeks and the ease of his laughter suggested he was pleasantly tipsy rather than drunk, relaxed enough to become careless, but still aware of everything happening around him.
Two women sat close on either side of him. One traced a finger absently around the rim of her champagne glass, while the other leaned against his shoulder and laughed at everything he said. Jordan paid little attention to the cards in front of him, far more interested in entertaining the small crowd gathered around the table.
You tilted your head subtly in his direction. âI think thatâs him over there.â
Jason followed your gaze. The casual amusement disappeared from his face, replaced by a sharper, more focused expression as he studied Jordan.
âYeah,â he murmured. âThatâs definitely him.â
You watched the table for another moment. Your grip on Jasonâs hand tightened without you meaning it to as the reality of the job settled in.
His thumb moved once against the side of your hand, the gesture so slight that you dismissed it as a reminder to stay in character.
âSo how are we going to do this?â you asked.
Jason looked at you, the corner of his mouth lifting. âYouâre better at this part than I am. You always come up with something. What dâyou think?â
You bit the inside of your lip and looked back toward the table, piecing together a story that would be convincing enough to survive the evening but simple enough for both of you to remember.
Eventually, your gaze returned to Jason.
âOkay,â you said slowly. âYou work in the Algonquin Financial District, but youâve taken the summer off to stay in Vice City with your girl. You brought her to the most expensive hotel in the country because you wanted to impress her, and Bardot is the reason you got into finance in the first place. Youâve followed his career for years.â
For a moment, Jason only stared at you.
Then, to your annoyance, a grin spread across his face, an actual grin, wide and genuine enough to catch you off guard.
âThatâs good,â he said. âThatâs actually fucking perfect.â
The grin remained, but something in his expression softened.
âLook, I know you hate working with me, but I love working with you. I really do.â
You stared at him, unsure what unsettled you more: the unexpected warmth in his voice or the fact that he sounded completely sincere.
Jason was supposed to tease you, congratulate himself, or say something insufferable. Sincerity didn't suit the version of him you had built in your head, and you found yourself resenting him for making you question it.
As though he had already said more than he intended, Jason turned toward the poker table. You followed, trying and failing, to push his words from your mind.
As Bardotâs table drew closer, you forced yourself to focus on the job. Taking a quiet breath, you hooked one hand around Jasonâs arm, your fingers settling against his bicep as you leaned into his side.
His gaze dropped to your hand. A flicker of surprise crossed his face, followed by something warmer that vanished before you could identify it. You assumed he simply had not expected you to commit to the act so quickly.
By the time you reached the table, every trace of irritation had disappeared from your expression. You leaned comfortably against Jason and wore the easy, affectionate smile of a woman perfectly content at her boyfriendâs side.
Jason stopped beside Bardotâs chair and offered him a polite smile.
Jordan looked up from his cards, his gaze moving first to Jason and then to you.
Without missing a beat, you tightened your grip on Jasonâs arm and smiled sweetly, slipping fully into character.
Jason extended his free hand across the table.
âHarry Dean,â he said, wearing the easy, respectful smile of a man meeting someone he had admired for years. âAlgonquin Financial District. I hope youâll forgive the interruption Mr Bardot, but Iâve followed your career since before I even knew what half the words in the financial section meant.â
Jordan looked at the offered hand but made no immediate move to take it. His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied Jason, the ghost of an amused smile forming beneath his heavy moustache.
Jason carried on without missing a beat.
âThe first deal of yours I ever read about was the Beaumont acquisition. Everyone said the property was dead. Bad location, worse management, too much debt attached to it. Then you bought it for half of what it was worth, tore the whole operation apart, and sold the land back to the city for three times what you paid.â
Jordanâs eyebrows rose.
âYou know about Beaumont?â
âEveryone in Algonquin knows about Beaumont,â Jason said smoothly. âThey just pretend they wouldâve had the balls to do the same thing.â
That earned a rough bark of laughter from Jordan.
You blinked, caught slightly off guard by how easily the story rolled off Jasonâs tongue. For once, it wasnât only you carrying the act, he was keeping pace without missing a beat.
Jasonâs smile widened, though he kept his admiration measured enough to remain believable.
âThatâs what separates you from the men I work with. They stare at numbers all day and call themselves visionaries because they moved a few million dollars between accounts. You built something real. Hotels, casinos, property, shipping. Every time someone decided you were finished, you came back owning whatever they thought would bury you.â
Jordan leaned back, clearly enjoying every word. One of the women beside him ran her fingers along his shoulder, but his attention remained fixed on Jason.
A loud, gravelly laugh tore out of him. He turned his head from one woman to the other, waving his whiskey glass toward Jason with enough force to send a few drops splashing across the green felt.
âYou two hearing this?â he demanded. âFinally, a young man with some fucking sense. Iâve spent all night surrounded by trust fund vegetables and coked up little parasites asking me what cryptocurrency Iâm invested in, and then this beautiful bastard walks over and starts talking about real business.â
The women laughed, though you suspected they would have laughed if he had announced that the table was on fire.
Jordan jabbed a thick finger toward Jason. âLook at him. Good suit. Firm handshake. Knows when to shut up and when to tell an old man exactly how brilliant he is. Thatâs a skill, ladies. You canât teach that in business school.â
He looked back at Jason, his eyes glassy with whiskey and delight.
âThis kidâs got instincts. I can smell it. Everybody thinks money smells like leather and expensive cologne. Bullshit. Money smells like fear, sweat, and the poor bastard you stepped over to get it.â
Jordan slapped the table and barked out another laugh, sending several stacks of chips wobbling.
You felt Jasonâs arm shift beneath your hand, though his expression remained perfectly composed. He looked like he belonged there, accepting Jordanâs rambling praise with the modest confidence of a man who heard compliments every day.
âHe really is incredible,â you said, allowing warmth to soften your voice.
Jordanâs gaze snapped toward you.
You tightened your fingers around Jasonâs bicep and leaned closer to his side. Then you turned your face toward Jason, letting your eyes linger on him as you caught your lower lip between your teeth.
Jasonâs expression barely changed, but the muscles beneath your hand went noticeably rigid, presumably because he was concentrating on staying in character.
âHarryâs ridiculously smart,â you said, turning back to Jordan, warmth creeping into your voice. âHonestly, itâs kind of infuriating sometimes. He remembers absolutely everything, picks up on things that everyone else misses, and somehow always knows exactly what to say to make people like him.â
Your hand slid a little higher up Jasonâs arm as you leaned more comfortably against his side, piling on the affection.
âAnd he spoils me constantly,â you went on with a soft laugh. âFancy restaurants, jewellery, weekends away, half the time, Iâll mention something in passing and a few days later heâll have found some way to surprise me with it. I keep telling him he doesnât have to work so hard to impress me, but he never listens.â
Jason glanced down at you, a flicker of amusement crossing his face, as though he were silently admitting that you were doing an amazing job selling the act.
His hand brushed lightly against yours.
âThatâs because you deserve nothing but the best,â he replied smoothly.
The words earned a pleased laugh from Jordan, but for some reason, you found yourself looking at Jason for a moment longer than necessary. He wore the same easy expression he always did, calm and self assured, as though telling people exactly what they wanted to hear came as naturally to him as breathing.
You smiled sweetly, then slowly let your hand slip from his arm.
For a brief moment, you wondered whether you should lean into the performance even more. The more convincing the two of you were, the easier tonight would be, and, more importantly, the bigger the payoff waiting at the end of it all.
That thought alone was enough to silence the hesitation creeping into your mind.
Jordan let out a laugh, a little louder than necessary, though not quite enough to draw attention from the surrounding tables. Leaning back against the leather booth, whiskey glass resting loosely in his hand, he gestured toward Jason.
âAh, fuck it.â Waving one hand through the air, he nodded toward the curved leather seating surrounding the poker table. âSit down, both of you. Anyone who flatters me this well deserves a seat at the table.â
You smiled, slipping effortlessly back into the role Raul had forced you into hours earlier.
Jason shook his head, muttering under his breath as you both walked toward the empty booth. He slid in first, leaning back comfortably, one arm resting along the back of the seat as he made space for you beside him.
You stepped toward the empty spot, then changed your mind.
The act had been working so far, and the more convincing you were, the easier the night would be, and the more money youâd make.
Instead of sitting beside him, you settled onto Jasonâs lap, wrapping an arm around his shoulders like it was completely natural.
You immediately felt him go tense beneath you, for the briefest moment before he forced himself to relax again. It was subtle, subtle enough that nobody else at the table would have noticed, but you felt it all the same: the slight hitch in his breathing, the way his hand instinctively found your waist before settling there.
For a second, he simply looked at you. The usual smirk was gone, replaced by something unreadable in his eyes.
Then Jordan cleared his throat, and the moment was gone.
âHow about a game of poker, Harry?â
Jason leaned back against the booth, one arm still around your waist. âSure. Though I doubt beating you will be easy.â
Jordan grinned, clearly pleased. âSmart man.â
As the dealer began arranging the cards, Jason slipped easily into conversation with him. He knew exactly when to laugh, when to flatter Jordan, and when to let him take over. It all came so naturally that, for a moment, you forgot how irritating he usually was.
You had to admit, he was better at this than you thought he'd be.
Sitting on his lap with his arm around you already made the two of you look convincing, but your eyes still drifted to his mouth.
Jordan already seemed completely taken in, laughing at everything Jason said and treating the two of you like guests instead of strangers. A kiss would hardly change anything.
And yet, as you sat there with his hand warm against your waist, the idea refused to leave you alone.
The more believable the act, the easier the night would be. And, more importantly, the more money you would make. That was reason enough, right?
Jordan was busy talking to the dealer, laughing loudly about something neither of you had been paying much attention to. Around the table, chips clicked against the felt and glasses clinked together, but your focus had shifted elsewhere.
You adjusted yourself slightly in Jasonâs lap and turned toward him.
He looked at you in the middle of the conversation, expecting another sarcastic comment. Instead, your hand came up to rest against the side of his neck, your fingers brushing the collar of his shirt.
Confusion flashed across his face.
Then you leaned in and kissed him.
It was supposed to be quick, just a fleeting kiss to sell the act and convince everyone at the table that the two of you belonged together. But the moment your lips brushed his, Jason stiffened beneath you in surprise, his hand tightening around your waist as he kissed you back, his mouth warm and unexpectedly soft against yours.
What caught you off guard was how natural it felt.
You pulled away a moment later, your arm still draped around his shoulders, immediately annoyed with yourself for even noticing. He was a better kisser than you had expected, and the fact that your brain had decided to focus on that of all things was deeply irritating.
You pushed the thought aside before it could go any further. It didn't matter. None of it did. The kiss had served its purpose, and that was all you cared about.
Beside you, Jason had gone strangely quiet. His expression had settled back into its usual easy confidence, but there was something different in his eyes now, something softer that disappeared the second he realised you were looking at him.
Jordan barely spared the two of you a glance, more interested in his drink than anything else as the dealer prepared the next hand.
âAlright, enough of that,â he said, waving a hand impatiently. âLetâs play.â
The dealer nodded and began shuffling the cards with practiced ease. Around the table, stacks of chips were pushed into neat piles as the other players settled in. One of the women beside Jordan leaned over to whisper something in his ear, earning a brief grin before he straightened and turned his attention back to Jason.
An hour later, the atmosphere around the table had changed completely.
Empty glasses and half finished bottles crowded the polished wood, most of them courtesy of Jordan, who had spent the better part of the evening ordering drinks for anyone within armâs reach. By now, he was thoroughly drunk, sunk deep into the leather booth with his tie loosened and a whiskey glass hanging carelessly from his fingers.
âAnother round,â he announced for what felt like the hundredth time, sloshing amber liquid dangerously close to the cards. âNobody sits at my table and leaves sober!"
A waiter appeared with another tray, and you exchanged a quick glance with Jason before each taking a fresh glass.
You were both tipsy, but still far more alert than Jordan realised. To keep him from becoming suspicious, you had spent the last hour pretending the alcohol was hitting you harder than it really was. You laughed louder than usual, leaned more heavily against Jason, and occasionally let your words blur together just enough to sound convincing.
Jason played along just as well. His smile had grown looser, his movements slightly less precise, and every so often he would glance down at his cards as though it took him longer than it should to understand what he was looking at.
Jordan was far too drunk to notice that neither of you were drinking nearly as much as he thought.
You lifted your glass and took a careful sip, letting a little of it touch your lips before setting it down again. Jason did the same, keeping one arm securely around your waist as he gave Jordan a deliberately unfocused grin.
The act had worked so far. Between the drinks, the laughter, and the way you kept gravitating toward each other, Jordan seemed entirely convinced that the two of you were exactly what you claimed to be.
And yet, sitting in Jason's lap with his hand warm against your waist, you found yourself wondering whether you should lean into the performance just a little more.
You shifted against Jason, relaxing fully into him. Your arm remained draped around his shoulders as you turned your head, your lips brushing lightly against the side of his neck at first, testing, almost hesitant. Then you pressed another kiss there, slower this time, letting it linger just a second longer, your breath warm against his skin. Your lips moved again, trailing just beneath his ear, soft and deliberate, the kind of careless affection that looked entirely natural after too many drinks.
Jason reacted immediately. His grip tightened around your waist, almost imperceptibly, and you felt the sharp hitch in his breathing before he forced himself to relax again. His eyes never left the cards in front of him, his expression carefully neutral, but the tension that rippled through his shoulders gave him away.
You shifted slightly against him and dragged your attention back to the game before your thoughts could wander somewhere unhelpful.
Whatever had just passed between you, it was irrelevant. You were here for a job, and the sooner Jordan trusted you, the sooner all of this would be over.
Across the table, Jordan tipped back the rest of his whiskey and set the empty glass down with a dull thud before reaching for another.
âAlright,â he said, slamming his fist down on the table hard enough to rattle the glasses, squinting at his cards like theyâd personally betrayed him before letting out a loud, half-laughing groan. âHow the fuck are you doing that?â
Jason laughed and leaned back against the booth like he hadnât just taken another chunk out of Jordanâs stack. âDoing what?â
Jordan stared at him for a second, then pointed across the table, his grin crooked and exaggerated. âYou fucking know what, kid. Donât play dumb with me.â
Jason glanced down at the chips piled in front of him. âWinning?â
âOh, donât get cute,â Jordan shot back, though he was already fighting a smile. âIâm in a fragile emotional state here.â
âI thought you liked me.â
âI did,â Jordan said, grabbing his whiskey and lifting it like he was making a toast. âI really did. Then you started robbing me blind.â
Jason grinned. âIâm just getting lucky.â
âBullshit,â Jordan said, taking a long drink before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. âNobody gets lucky this many times unless theyâre cheating, fucking the dealer, or both. And you know what? Iâd respect you more if you were.â
The dealer didnât even look up.
Jasonâs grin widened. âThink Iâd remember that.â
Jordan let out a loud laugh, shaking his head as he pointed at him again. âSmart mouth. Youâve got an answer for everything, donât ya?â
You laughed with him, louder than necessary, leaning into Jason with your arm draped over his shoulders.
âHeâs right,â you said, glancing at Jordan. âHarryâs the most arrogant son of a bitch Iâve ever met.â
Jason turned toward you, one eyebrow raised.
You smiled and shifted closer, pressing against his side.
For the briefest moment, something shifted in Jason's expression.
You noticed it, then immediately looked away, reaching for your drink instead. You were supposed to sound like this careless, affectionate, half drunk. That was all this was.
Jordan slammed his palm against the table, laughing so hard one of the women beside him had to catch his whiskey before it tipped across the felt.
âJesus Christ, Harry,â he said, pointing at Jason with a crooked, drunken grin. âMarry this girl before she sobers up and realises she could do better.â
Jason opened his mouth, already lining up some smart remark, but before he could get a word out, the dealer slid the entire pile of chips across the table toward him.
Jordan stared down at it, blinked hard, then let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh.
âYouâve got to be fucking kidding me.â
You laughed immediately, loud and loose, leaning fully into the act as you shifted against Jason. He leaned back into the booth beneath you, shaking his head like he couldnât quite believe it either, even though you could feel how steady he actually was.
âNo way,â he said, grinning as he dragged the chips closer. âNo fucking way.â
âOh, donât give me that innocent bullshit,â Jordan snapped, throwing his hands up. âYou knew exactly what you were doing, you slippery little bastard.â
You cheered, wrapping your arms around Jasonâs neck, pressing into him like youâd forgotten anyone else was there. The women at the table laughed and groaned, and Jasonâs arm tightened around your waist to keep you steady, his smile wide and easy, playing it perfectly.
Laughing, you grabbed his face and kissed him.
The kiss stretched, slow and deliberate. You felt the warm, firm press of Jasonâs lips against yours, soft at first then moving with an easy, steady rhythm that didnât match the clumsy mess it should have been. His hand tightened at your waist, fingers digging in just enough to anchor you as he leaned closer, the heat of his mouth lingering. You caught the faint taste of alcohol on his tongue, undercut by something warmer and more controlled. Around the table the noise dulled into a distant hum, leaving only the quiet sound of his breathing and the deliberate way he kissed you back.
Jordan suddenly leaned forward in his booth.
You pulled away at once, your arm still draped around Jasonâs shoulders as though nothing had happened. For a moment, neither of you spoke. Jasonâs hand remained at your waist, his expression settling back into its usual easy confidence a fraction too slowly.
âThereâs a safe in my suite,â Jordan said, waving lazily with his whiskey glass. âWatches, diamonds, gold chains, whatever catches your eye, take it. Consider it a little reward for cleaning me out.â
The woman on his left gave a quiet, disbelieving laugh. âJordan, youâre not actually letting strangers into your room, are you?â
âWatch me.â He took another long drink before slamming the glass back onto the table. Then, squinting through the haze of alcohol, he turned and barked over the noise of the party.
âMarcus, get over here now!â
A broad shouldered man in a dark suit detached himself from the crowd near the bar, one hand pressed briefly to the earpiece tucked beneath his collar as he approached the table.
Jordan jabbed a finger toward Jason and you.
âTake these two upstairs and open the safe for them.â
The guard hesitated, glancing between Jordan and the two of you. âSir, I-â
âNow!" Jordan snapped, cutting him off with a sharp wave of his hand.
You almost couldnât believe it.
For the past hour, you and Jason had been laying the groundwork, playing your parts and feeding Jordan exactly what he wanted to hear, earning just enough of his trust to get close without pushing too far. Every move had been deliberate, every word chosen with purpose.
And now, without either of you having to ask, Jordan had handed it all over, access, an escort, the safe itself.
Ten minutes later, you and Jason followed Marcus down a quiet hallway several floors above the party.
The noise from the bar had faded, replaced by the muted hush of thick carpet and polished walls. Warm light from the sconces lined the corridor, reflecting off dark wood panelling and identical doors stretching ahead.
Your fingers were still laced with Jasonâs as you walked close beside him, keeping up the act without thinking.
Marcus glanced back over his shoulder, his gaze lingering on the two of you as he slowed his pace.
âI saw you both downstairs with Mr. Bardot,â he said, his tone casual but edged with curiosity. âHow long have you been together?â
For a split second, you and Jason met each otherâs eyes.
It was all the time you needed, just enough to agree without speaking that whatever came next had to sound natural, unforced.
You let a small smile curve your lips, leaning more comfortably into Jasonâs side as though it were second nature.
âTwo years,â Jason answered easily.
Marcus raised an eyebrow. âOnly two years? Jesus, anyone would think youâve been together for way longer than that.â
A soft laugh slipped from you, quieter than you intended, your fingers tightening around Jasonâs hand before you could stop yourself.
âIâll take that as a compliment.â
Marcus gave a small, thoughtful shrug. âI mean it. Most couples whoâve only been together a couple years donât look at each other like that.â
You and Jason exchanged a brief glance, quick, instinctive, before he answered, smooth as ever. âGuess we got lucky.â
Marcus hummed under his breath and turned his attention back to the corridor, the conversation dismissed as easily as it had begun.
For the past hour, every smile, every touch, every lingering glance had served a purpose. You had given Jordan exactly what he wanted to see and earned just enough trust to get this far without raising suspicion.
If even his security believed the story, then the two of you had played your parts perfectly.
So why did it suddenly feel as though somewhere along the way, the line between performance and reality had started to blur?
And yet, as you walked beside Jason, your fingers still laced with his, the thought sat uneasily in your chest.
Before tonight, disliking him had been easy. Jason had always been insufferable in the most effortless way, arrogant, self assured to a fault, and entirely too aware of the effect he had on people. You had spent years meeting every one of his remarks with a sharp retort, every smirk with an eye roll, clinging to the certainty that whatever existed between you worked best when it stayed firmly in the realm of reluctant partnership.
But now, that certainty didnât feel quite so solid. Something had shifted.
Maybe it was the alcohol, dulling your usual instincts. Maybe it was the adrenaline still humming beneath your skin. Or maybe it had started earlier, somewhere between the poker table, the easy way heâd slipped into the role, and the slow unraveling of the night under Jordanâs endless stream of whiskey.
Or maybe it was simply the fact that you had enjoyed kissing him far more than you should have.
You hadnât expected that. Youâd gone into the evening assuming it would be awkward, something to get through for the sake of the job, just another part of Raulâs plan. Instead, somewhere between the first kiss, the second, and then the third, it had stopped feeling like an act.
Because the truth was, you had liked it.
The admission settled heavily in your chest as you swallowed, your grip tightening slightly around Jasonâs hand. Almost without thinking, you glanced at him, and for a fleeting second, you could have sworn he was already looking at you. Then he turned away just as quickly, his attention snapping back to the corridor ahead with practiced ease, as though nothing had happened.
But you knew you hadnât imagined it. Heat rose to your cheeks, sharp and unwelcome, and you forced your gaze forward.
Marcus slowed as you reached the end of the corridor, stopping outside a set of double doors that looked no different from the others at first glance, until you noticed the subtle details. The polished wood was darker, richer, the gold numbering fixed to the centre gleaming under the soft hallway lights.
Marcus slid the keycard through the reader and pushed the doors open without ceremony.
Jason stepped inside first, guiding you in with him as Marcus followed close behind.
A sprawling living area opened up before you, illuminated by the warm glow of recessed lights and the city skyline beyond the floor to ceiling windows. Dark wood floors disappeared beneath cream coloured rugs, while sleek leather sofas and marble coffee tables were arranged around a stone fireplace large enough to swallow the one in your apartment whole. Expensive paintings lined the walls between shelves stocked with crystal decanters and books that looked as though they had been purchased for decoration rather than reading.
Beyond the sitting area, glass doors opened onto a private balcony overlooking Vice City, its neon lights glittering against the ocean in the distance. Somewhere deeper in the suite, you caught glimpses of a dining room and what had to be at least three separate hallways leading to the bedrooms.
Jason let out a low whistle beside you, taking in the room.
âChrist,â he muttered, shaking his head before glancing down at you, slipping effortlessly back into character. âThis place is impressive, ainât it, baby?â
The endearment shouldnât have affected you. It was just part of the act, another line in the story youâd been selling all night. And yet, standing beside him in Jordan Bardotâs suite with his hand still wrapped around yours, you couldnât ignore the way your awareness sharpened, the warmth of his touch, the closeness of his body, and the pull you had no business feeling.
âYeah,â you replied, forcing your attention back to the room. âSure is.â
Marcus snorted softly and continued deeper into the suite, disappearing down one of the corridors branching off from the main living area.
âTrust me,â he called over his shoulder. âThis isnât even the impressive part.â
You and Jason exchanged a quick glance before following him.
The corridor opened into a sprawling study lined with dark wooden shelves and floor to ceiling windows overlooking the city below. A polished desk sat in one corner beside a stocked drinks cabinet, while expensive paintings hung between shelves filled with books that looked as though they had never been opened.
Marcus stepped up to the painting and gripped the edge of the frame, sliding it aside to reveal a large steel safe built into the wall behind it.
âMr Bardot likes showing off,'' he muttered.
Your heartbeat surged as Marcus crouched in front of the safe and pulled a ring of keys from his jacket. He worked through the locks with practiced efficiency, metal scraping softly as each one clicked open. The sound seemed louder than it should have been, echoing through the room as your pulse hammered in your ears.
With a final turn, the last lock disengaged and Marcus pulled the heavy door open.
You barely had time to register the rows of watches and jewellery gleaming inside before Jason moved.
His fingers slipped from yours without hesitation, the shift from easy charm to cold precision so sudden that it stole the breath from your lungs. His hand slipped beneath his shirt, fingers closing around the grip of the pistol concealed at the small of his back. In one fluid motion, he drew it free, stepped in behind Marcus, and brought it down hard against the base of Marcus's skull.
The blow landed with a dull crack.
Marcus went limp at once, his knees giving out as the keys slipped from his hand and hit the floor. He collapsed beside the open safe in a loose heap.
Jason caught him just enough to ease him down, keeping the noise low before letting go.
For a moment, the only sound was your heartbeat, loud in your ears.
Jason crouched beside Marcus, one hand briefly pressing against the side of his neck to check his pulse. Satisfied, he shifted the unconscious guard onto his side before looking up at you.
The question caught you off guard. For a moment, all you could do was stare at him. Marcus was unconscious on the floor, Jordanâs safe stood open a few feet away, and somehow Jasonâs first concern was whether you were alright.
You shot him a look, still caught off guard by the question.
âYeah, Iâm fine,â you said, glancing down at Marcus sprawled on the floor. âIâve seen worse than some rich manâs guard getting knocked out with a pistol.â
Jason held your gaze for a second, then a slow grin spread across his face.
And just like that, you felt your own lips twitch in response.
âCome on,â you muttered, stepping forward.
You grabbed Marcusâs legs while Jason moved to the other end, sliding his arms beneath Marcusâs shoulders. Together, you lifted him off the floor.
Marcus was heavier than he looked. His shoes dragged against the polished wood as the two of you carried him out of the study and into the hallway beyond, Jason taking most of the weight without complaint.
âThere has to be somewhere nearby we can dump him,â you said, shifting your grip on Marcusâs ankle.
Jason glanced down the corridor before nodding toward a door standing slightly ajar a few metres away.
You followed him into what turned out to be a large storage closet tucked between the study and the master bedroom. Spare linens and towels filled the shelves lining the walls, while cleaning supplies and stacks of unopened boxes occupied the back corner.
Together, you carried Marcus to the back of the room and lowered him onto the carpet. His head rolled limply to one side, but he didnât stir.
Neither of you said anything.
Jason straightened first and stepped back into the hallway. You followed a moment later, pulling the door shut behind you with a soft click.
By the time you stepped back into the study, the safe still yawned open exactly as Marcus had left it, its heavy steel door swung wide like a silent invitation.
For a moment, neither of you moved.
Light from the floor to ceiling windows spilled across the room and caught on the contents inside, scattering sharp glints of gold and silver across the dark wood floor. Rows of watches rested in velvet lined compartments, their faces gleaming with cold precision beneath the recessed lights. Thick gold chains lay draped in loose coils beside diamond bracelets and gemstone rings, each piece more extravagant than the last, as if excess itself had been carefully arranged and locked away.
Bundles of cash occupied the lower shelves, stacked in neat columns and secured with crisp paper bands. There was more money sitting inside that safe than most people would earn in their entire lives.
Behind the jewellery, several black lockboxes and leather document cases had been pushed against the back wall, tucked away behind the displays Jordan clearly preferred showing off. Even at a glance, it was obvious that the watches and diamonds were only there to distract from whatever was hidden deeper inside.
You stepped closer, your pulse still uneven from what had just happened.
You tore your eyes away from the safe long enough to glance down at the fur coat hanging from your shoulders.
âIâve got pockets in this thing,â you said, stepping closer to the shelves. âIâll stuff whatever I can into them while you find a bag and take everything else.â
For a moment, Jason didnât answer.
You glanced up from the safe, expecting one of his usual smug remarks, only to find him watching you.
The expression on his face softened, the easy confidence he had worn downstairs fading into something quieter, more vulnerable. His gaze lingered on you just a moment longer than it should have, and in the soft light spilling through the study, you noticed the way his pupils had widened, dark against the blue of his eyes.
Heat crept up the back of your neck. It made no sense. The two of you had a job to finish. You still had to get out of this hotel carrying watches, jewellery, and more cash than either of you could reasonably hide, and yet, standing there in the silence of the study, your mind betrayed you.
For the briefest moment, the urge to kiss him again crossed your mind.
You pushed the thought aside and dropped your attention back to the safe, kneeling and grabbing the nearest stack of cash, folding it straight into one of the deep pockets of your coat. You didnât stop there. You took two watches, slipped them into the opposite pocket with a handful of diamond bracelets, then added gold chains, forcing them in until the fabric pulled tight against your hip.
You kept going, grabbing velvet boxes without checking what was inside and stuffing them into every available space. Rings, necklaces, more watches, anything within reach went straight into your coat. The weight built quickly, dragging at your sides, but you ignored it and kept filling every pocket.
You reached for another bundle of cash and shoved it into the last bit of space, forcing it between a gold watch and a jewellery box until there was nothing left to fit. When you finally stopped, your coat hung heavy and full, weighed down with cash, watches, and diamonds, and the safe still looked barely touched.
Across from you, Jason had found a large black duffle bag tucked into the back of one of the wardrobes lining the study. He crouched beside the safe and began loading it with practiced efficiency, sweeping stacks of cash, velvet boxes, and expensive watches into the bag with quick, deliberate movements.
The zippered compartment filled alarmingly fast.
Watching him work, you felt the familiar rush of adrenaline settle in, sharp and steady beneath your skin. The tailored sleeves of his suit jacket framed him perfectly, the crisp lines of it sharpening every movement, making him look even more put together, more controlled, more dangerous.
The sight sent an unwelcome flutter through you. Almost instinctively, you shifted your weight and squeezed your legs together.
Across from you, he swept the last of the velvet boxes into the duffle and dragged the zipper shut in one smooth motion. The bag bulged with its weight, forcing him to shift it higher on his shoulder, the strain barely registering in the controlled set of his posture. His gaze flicked once around the room, sharp and efficient, cataloguing every detail to ensure nothing had been missed.
Then he was moving toward you, closing the space between you with quiet certainty, his hand finding yours without hesitation. His fingers threaded through yours as if they belonged there, steady and grounding in a way that sent a fresh surge of heat through your chest.
âCâmon,â he murmured, already guiding you toward the door. âWe can get out the back way.â
You moved with him, stepping out of the study and into the hushed corridor beyond, the shift immediate and electric. Adrenaline surged through you in a relentless current, sharpening every sensation, the distant pulse of music rising faintly from the floors below, the heavy drag of stolen wealth concealed beneath your coat, the firm, unyielding warmth of Jasonâs hand anchoring you as he led you forward.
Twelve minutes later, you spilled out onto a quiet side street a few blocks from the hotel, the sudden calm hitting you like a rush of cold air, and then, just as quickly, dissolving into something lighter, brighter, almost unreal.
The Paradise still blazed behind you, its upper floors glowing gold against the night as if nothing had happened at all, as if it hadnât just been quietly, expertly robbed. Music drifted faintly from somewhere high above, swallowed by the hum of the city and the warm ocean breeze, but it all felt distant now, like youâd stepped out of one world and into another.
And somehow, impossibly, you were both still laughing.
Jason stopped beside the car and shifted the duffle bag higher on his shoulder before reaching into his pocket for the keys. The vehicle itself was nothing flashy, just dark enough to blend seamlessly into the row of parked cars lining the street, exactly the kind of car nobody would remember seeing.
The locks clicked open, and without thinking, he crossed around to the passenger side and pulled the door open for you.
You looked at him for a moment, breath still uneven, adrenaline buzzing bright and electric beneath your skin, before a small, almost disbelieving smile curved your lips.
Jason only shrugged, though the grin hadnât quite left his face.
You ducked into the passenger seat, the weight of the jewellery hidden inside your coat shifting against you as you settled back against the leather. The city lights filtered through the windshield, casting long streaks of gold across the dashboard, everything feeling just a little too sharp, too vivid, like the night hadnât quite caught up with what youâd just done.
A second later, Jason swung the door shut, the solid thud echoing faintly in the quiet street.
Jason tossed the keys onto the centre console, ran a hand through his hair, then slid them into the ignition.
The engine rumbled to life as he pulled away from the curb, guiding the car onto the empty street while Vice Cityâs lights streaked across the windshield in blurs of gold and neon. The hotel shrank in the rearview mirror with every turn, but the rush in your chest only intensified.
Jason let out a low laugh, glancing over at you as his hand tightened on the steering wheel.
âWe should probably find somewhere to lay low for a while,â he said. âConsidering we just robbed one of the richest fucking guys in Vice City.â
The words should have sounded insane, but all they did was send another sharp rush of exhilaration through you. You twisted slightly in your seat, catching the faint glint of watches and jewellery in the duffle bag behind you as streetlights flashed past.
âYeah,â you said, unable to hide your smile. âI agree.â
Jason gave a quick nod and pressed down on the accelerator, the car surging forward as the city began to thin around you.
Towering hotels and crowded bars gradually gave way to quieter streets lined with shuttered shops and dimly lit apartment blocks. Neon signs disappeared one by one in the rearview mirror, replaced by long stretches of road illuminated only by street lamps and the occasional headlights passing in the opposite direction.
The silence stretched comfortably between you, broken only by the steady drone of the engine and the occasional flash of headlights through the windshield.
For the first time since leaving the hotel, you became acutely aware of how warm you were.
The fur coat that had seemed essential a few hours earlier now felt heavy against your shoulders, weighed down by heat, adrenaline, and everything crammed into its pockets. With a quiet sigh, you reached up and slipped it off.
You slipped one arm free, then the other, mindful of the weight concealed within the lining. The coat slid from your shoulders in a soft, heavy fall, revealing the black dress beneath, its smooth fabric cool against your skin after hours spent wrapped in fur and pressed into the heat of crowded poker tables.
You twisted in your seat and gently laid the coat across the back seat beside the duffle bag. Gold watches shifted softly inside one pocket, and a stack of cash poked from another before disappearing beneath the folds of dark fabric.
When you turned back around, the night air drifting through the barely open window felt different against your bare arms.
Beside you, Jason's attention remained fixed on the road ahead, but not entirely.
Outside, the road stretched on beneath the sweep of the headlights, a narrow ribbon of asphalt cutting through the darkness as it carried you farther and farther from Vice City. The glow of the skyline had faded to a distant, hazy smear on the horizon, its gold and neon lights dissolving into the night, replaced by long, empty stretches of highway, shadowed fields that seemed to go on forever, and the occasional farmhouse standing alone in the distance, its single porch light casting a faint, lonely glow.
The farther you drove, the quieter everything became.
Inside the car, though, quiet was the last thing you felt.
You shifted in your seat, restless, hyper aware of every detail, the steady rumble of the engine vibrating through the floorboards, the cool night air slipping through the cracked window and brushing your bare arms, the controlled flex of Jasonâs hands on the steering wheel.
You watched the way his fingers gripped the leather, the subtle shift of muscle in his forearms, the clean line of his jaw in the dim glow of the dashboard. The want hit you sudden and certain. You wanted to feel those hands on your skin, wanted to climb into his lap and let the restless energy finally burn itself out against his body. The thought sent another pulse of heat through you, sharp and undeniable.
Jason slowed and turned down a narrow, empty side road, the asphalt quickly giving way to gravel that crunched softly beneath the tires. The headlights carved a lonely path through thick darkness on either side, no other cars, no lights, nothing but open night stretching out ahead.
You bit your lip, the decision forming before you could talk yourself out of it. Your voice came out lower than you expected, a little rough around the edges.
âYou wanna go somewhere private for a bit?"
Jason slammed on the brakes without a word, the car jerking to a sudden stop on the empty gravel road. The engine idled low as he killed the headlights, plunging you both into near total darkness. He undid his seatbelt in one sharp motion, the click loud in the quiet. You smirked, heat flooding through you, and unbuckled yours just as quickly.
Without hesitation, you climbed over the center console, knees bumping the steering wheel as you settled onto his lap, straddling him. Jasonâs hands immediately found your waist, gripping hard. He pulled you down against him and kissed you hungrily, mouth crashing into yours with raw, pent up need. His tongue pushed past your lips, deep and demanding, like heâd been holding back for hours and had finally snapped.
You kissed back, hot and messy, tongues sliding deep as the urgency built between you. Jasonâs hands slid lower, palms gliding over the curve of your ass before slipping beneath the hem of your black dress. His fingers pressed into your bare skin, gripping and squeezing with raw possession as he pulled you down harder against him.
Between kisses, he broke away just enough to speak, his voice low and rough against your mouth. âI nearly got a boner while you were sitting on my lap before,â he muttered, giving your ass another firm squeeze.Â
You giggled against his mouth, the sound soft and breathy. âThat wouldâve convinced Jordan even more,â you murmured, then dipped your head and dragged your tongue slowly over the sensitive spot just below his jaw. Jason let out a low groan, his hands still gripping your ass beneath your dress.
âYeah,â he muttered, voice tight. A second later, one of his hands lifted and came down hard on your ass with a sharp smack. The sting bloomed hot across your skin and you moaned into his neck, hips jerking forward against him.
You pulled back from his neck, breathing heavier now, and reached up to hook your fingers under the thin straps of your dress. You tugged them down your shoulders, letting the fabric slip lower until your bra was fully exposed, the swell of your breasts rising and falling with each quick breath.
You reached behind your back and unhooked your bra with one quick motion, letting the straps slide down your arms before tossing it somewhere onto the passenger seat. Your breasts spilled free, nipples already tight from the cool night air and the heat building between you.
Jason let out a low, rough moan at the sight. He leaned in immediately, mouth latching onto your left breast, sucking hungrily. His tongue flicked over your nipple before he drew it deeper into his mouth, hot and wet, the pull sending sparks straight down your spine.
You moaned, the sound spilling out louder this time as your fingers slid into his hair, gripping and running through the strands at the back of his scalp, holding him against you.
Jason pulled his mouth off your breast with a wet sound, lips shiny as he leaned back against the seat. His eyes stayed locked on yours, dark and heavy lidded, as he reached down between your bodies. He undid his belt with a sharp metallic clink, the sound loud in the quiet car. He lifted his hips and shoved his suit pants and briefs down just far enough, freeing his cock.
It sprang up thick and heavy between you, the shaft flushed dark and veined, the head already glistening with precum. He was long and girthy, curving slightly upward, the sight of it making your mouth go dry. You stared down at it, heat pooling low in your stomach as you took in every inch.
You lifted your dress higher around your waist and reached down between your bodies, hooking your fingers into the thin string of your thong. You pulled it to the side, exposing your pussy to him. Jasonâs eyes dropped to look, his gaze darkening with raw awe as he took in the sight of you wet, ready, and hovering just above him.
You braced one hand on his shoulder and slowly sank down onto his cock. The thick head pushed against your entrance before sliding inside, stretching you inch by inch. A broken moan tore from your throat as you took him deeper, and Jason groaned low and rough beneath you, his hands gripping your hips tightly as your walls clenched around him.
You moaned loudly as you sank all the way down onto him, your walls fluttering and clenching around the thick stretch of his cock. The fullness made your breath hitch. âYou stretch me out so fucking good, Jason,â you breathed, voice shaky and filthy as your thighs trembled around him.
Jason groaned deep in his throat, the sound rough and vibrating through his chest. His fingers dug harder into your hips as he started thrusting up into you, hard and steady. Each upward snap of his hips drove his cock deeper, the thick head dragging against your walls with every stroke.
The car rocked gently with the force of it, the wet, obscene sound of your bodies slapping together filling the tight space. You could feel every inch of him, the way he split you open again and again, his grip bruising as he pulled you down to meet each thrust.
Jason moaned low and rough, his thrusts never slowing as he drove up into you. âYouâre so fucking tight,â he groaned, voice strained. âYouâre squeezing my cock so good, baby.â
You moaned at his words, the praise sending a fresh wave of heat through you. Your hands slid up his chest as you leaned in closer, lips brushing his ear while you rolled your hips down to meet his thrusts.
âYou know⊠I donât hate you as much now,â you whispered, the words teasing and breathless.
You pulled back just enough to smile at him, slow and wicked.
âAre you sure?â he asked, voice low and rough, eyes locked on yours.
You moaned loudly, head tipping back as the new pace knocked the air from your lungs. âFuck yes, yes!'' you gasped, the words breaking into another moan as he drove deeper.
Jason didnât wait for anything else. He kept fucking up into you harder, faster, like he was finally letting go of every ounce of tension that had built between you for years. His hips snapped up relentlessly, driving his cock deep with rough, punishing strokes that made the car shake.
You moaned louder, voice breaking as he kept pounding up into you. âIâm close,â you gasped, your hands gripping his shoulders tighter.
Jason groaned, his thrusts never slowing. âYeah?â he rasped, voice rough and strained. âMe too.â
You nearly screamed, the sound breaking into a shaky âOh fuck-â as the pressure inside you built to a breaking point. Your walls clenched tight around his cock with every relentless thrust.
Jason leaned in, his breath hot against your skin, and dragged his tongue slowly over that sensitive spot on your neck. He licked and sucked at it, his mouth hot and wet as he kept fucking up into you without slowing down.
âCum all over my cock,â he growled against your neck, voice low and rough. âWhen youâre ready.â
Jason kept fucking you hard, his hips snapping up relentlessly as you teetered right on the edge. Your moans grew higher and more desperate, your walls fluttering wildly around his cock. Then it hit you.
You came hard with a broken cry, your pussy clenching and pulsing around him as waves of pleasure crashed through you. Your thighs shook and your nails dug into his shoulders as you soaked his cock, your orgasm hitting you in long, intense spasms.
Jason groaned loudly but didnât stop. He fucked you straight through it, thrusting deep and steady even as your walls squeezed and fluttered around him. Ten seconds later, his rhythm faltered. With a low, guttural moan, he buried himself deep inside you and came, his cock throbbing as he spilled hot and thick, filling you up with every pulse.
You both stayed like that for a moment, breathing hard. Your chest rose and fell against his as you tried to catch your breath, his cock still buried deep inside you. Jasonâs hands stayed loosely on your hips, thumbs brushing slow circles over your skin while the two of you panted in the quiet car.
Jason wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in close against his chest. One hand slid up your back while the other rested at your waist, holding you there like he didnât want to let go just yet. He leaned forward and pressed slow, lazy kisses across your breasts, his lips warm and gentle against your skin as he caught his breath with you.
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