Taming Jake Wolfe Read online

  (BILLIONAIRE, Book 2.5)*

  by

  Juliette Jones

  *This book can be read as a standalone.

  Copyright © 2015

  Juliette Jones

  All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced, distributed or scanned in any electronic or printed form without permission. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.

  TAMING JAKE WOLFE is a work of fiction. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover art photo used under license from Shutterstock.com

  Cover design © Juliette Jones

  First Edition: April 2015

  Published by Juliette Jones: [email protected]

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  Note to Readers

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Epilogue

  Also by Juliette Jones

  Coming Soon

  Connect with Juliette Jones

  Sign up for Juliette Jones’s Newsletter

  Read BILLIONAIRE (Part 1)

  Note to Readers:

  For those of you who have read BILLIONAIRE and HONEY GIRL (BILLIONAIRE, Book 2), you might remember a scene where Alexander describes his brother Jake’s teenage years (Jake’s eighteen in this novella) and a time in his life when he boarded with a family whose daughter gave him a different kind of education, so to speak. As I write JAKE (BILLIONAIRE, Book 3) – which this book is not (coming soon!) – I kept thinking about what shaped Jake as a character and what made him the person he is. He’s a damaged badboy with a heart of gold and a colorful past. This book explores some of that past.

  Also: this is fiction! There are definite elements of lusty fantasy to all of my books, including this one. This is not a true-love HEA (but it does have a happy ending and both central characters walk away enlightened). Jake will meet the love of his life in the next book: JAKE (BILLIONAIRE, Book 3).

  TAMING JAKE WOLFE contains hot consensual sometimes-promiscuous sex.

  It’s sexy, explicit erotica and is intended for readers 18+

  October, 2004

  Fuck this. Fuck my brother. Fuck everyone.

  Why should I do what he tells me to? I’m legally my own person now – as of last Tuesday – and I’m this close to telling him to take his boarding house with some uppity rich suburban family and shoving it up his own self-righteous ass.

  I don’t give a shit about finishing high school at this point. If it hadn’t been for practically skipping half a year of school when I was younger, I’d be done by now. I’d be out of this fucking snooty Ivy League town. Just me and my motorcycle on the open road. I’m so damn sick of all these pretentious people, with their money-grubbing aspirations and their pity. If there’s one thing I can’t fucking stand it’s other people who know nothing about me acting like they care. If I don’t even care about what happens to me why should they?

  I take a swig of whiskey. Some chick standing a few lockers down sees me do it and smiles a little. Is that the one that gave me a blowjob in the girls’ locker room last week? I think it might be. Sometimes it’s hard to tell these girls apart. I give her a little wink and slide the flask into the back pocket of my jeans. I slam my locker before walking away.

  The only reason I’m even contemplating humoring my overbearing control-freak of a brother is because if I drop out of high school now and take off, he’ll come after me. He’ll abandon all the hard work he’s put into building his publishing business – which he works on day and night and has since he finished his MBA a few months ago – to fucking follow me around. He’ll leave everything of his own behind just so he can sort my life out like it’s his number one priority. Which is annoying as fuck but that’s just the way he is and always has been.

  For his sake, which I’d never admit to him, I’ll meet these stuffy yuppies who might have an extra room they’ll consider offering me. Why? Because my brother was a kiss-ass student who takes stuff seriously. He’s the sort of person who earns other people’s respect.

  As for me, that gene must’ve gotten all used up on him because I’m what you’d call the black sheep of my fucked-up family. And that’s saying something. The only person in my family who isn’t either dead or a certified screw-up is my brother and that’s only through sheer force of will.

  I couldn’t give a fuck about trying to be anything but what I am. Which happens to be a delinquent no-hope who can barely maintain a C average. Not that I try that hard. I get distracted by all the crap that’s going on inside my head, leeching in there from the darkness of my psyche. I’ve shoved the most painful memories – the terrifying, horrible fear of him coming for me and having nowhere to hide – into the deepest, darkest corners. But my demons sometimes sneak up on me when I least expect it and kick my ass in ways I can’t explain. They whisper in my ear and bite my soul in gnawing, jagged-toothed bites.

  Even now, the echoing memories kill me a little more, every second of the day. Small, stabbing blades of pain that never leave me.

  This is the reason I avoid people and mostly keep to myself. One, I don’t want to have to explain why I’m a fuck-up and two, I don’t want to inflict all that shit onto anyone else. It’s best if I keep my distance.

  Which I do, unless I can’t take it anymore.

  Like right about now.

  I’m walking through the halls of my high school and there’s this group of three girls blocking my way. I start to push past them and they’re baiting me with these sweeping eyelashes and coy, almost-fearful looks of interest.

  The ones who like danger pursue me. Which is most of the female population, it turns out.

  Like these three. I’ve seen them watch me before. They’re seniors, like me. They’re always together. Whenever I walk past, they whisper and stare. There’s hunger there in their lingering gazes. The fantasies play across their faces as they stare at the gargantuan hard-on that’s threatening to bust out of my jeans.

  I try to ignore them, for their sake more than mine. You probably wouldn’t guess it by the way I act but I do have a conscience, buried deep somewhere in that fucked-up quagmire I occasionally refer to as my soul.

  There’s no way they can know how twisted I actually am. How I can’t stand to even be touched. How I have dreams about sex and death, anger and fear, all tangled together into seething, sweaty, terrorizing nightmares that haunt me every single night. Sure, I fantasize about fucking every one of them as I take out my rage. Right now I feel so hard and so mean I have to stop myself from grabbing the one who’s standing closest to me and shoving her up against the lockers. It would be so easy to lift that little skirt and rip off her panties – if she’s even wearing any – and slide my rock-hard cock deep into her tight little pussy until she’s squirming against me and squeezing wetly around me, impaled and squirming and whimpering.

  It’s easy enough to see they want me.

  They want what they can’t have.

  I don’t act on my urges. I don’t even look at them.

  Because I can’t do it.

  I can’t let myself do it.

  I’m afraid I’ll kill someone if I let them get too close to me. I’m afraid I’ll strangle these girls with my goddamn bare hands.

  I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop myself from destroying them along with myself.

  But then again, fuck it. As long as I can control what they do, I should be able to control myself enough to fuck them without hurting them.

 
; I stop walking. I stare at them and they shrink back from me a little. They weren’t expecting me to react to them. “Meet me under the bleachers,” I say, my voice low. All three of them go wide-eyed, not with fear but with timid excitement.

  I walk away and I know they’re following me. Girls fucking love me for some inexplicable reason, considering I’m just about the least lovable person I’ve ever met. Even the ones who are wary at first just can’t seem to resist me. Some glitch in evolution means that women crave guys like me: guys they know are going to be mean and dirty and rough. Who’ll give them hot, raunchy sex, then walk away.

  They fucking love that shit.

  I guess my looks help. They find me ‘mysterious’ or some bullshit. They can’t get enough of the dark-eyed renegade who breaks every rule and sports a perpetual nine-inch hard-on which has somehow become an underground legend, apparently.

  I walk across the field. There’s no one around. Underneath the bleachers it’s sheltered, and dark.

  I stand there and take another hit of whiskey as I watch them enter the dim, dusty space. They’ve got their arms linked. “Hi, Jake,” says one of them.

  “If you want to play,” I say, “we play by my rules. You do what I say.”

  They sort of giggle nervously but they’re horny as fuck. Somewhere between the school and here, they’ve unbuttoned the top buttons of their shirts. “All right, Jake,” says one of them. She has long, reddish hair. They’re decent-looking girls, but their appeal is mostly about how young and fresh-looking they are. And how much they want it. They move like they’re already hot and wet.

  “You’re so gorgeous, Jake,” says the blond, coyly.

  “We’ve been watching you for a while,” says the one with a pink streak in her dark brown hair. “We’ve been wanting to talk to you about something.”

  “We’re virgins, Jake,” Blondie says softly. “But don’t worry, we’re eighteen. We’re legal.”

  Yeah, I would’ve lost some sleep over that one. Not. Then again, rape is not something I really want to add to my record on top of assault and shoplifting, not to mention trespassing, vandalism and that one time I slept with a seventeen-year-old. I was only sixteen at the time, though, so they couldn’t pin it on me. Plus the girl was the one who instigated the whole thing, which she later came clean about.

  Besides, my brother would go apeshit and I don’t really want to put him through another court case.

  “Good to know,” I say.

  “We were hoping you could help us out with that,” Blondie says. “We’ve been experimenting a little with each other, but now we’re ready for more.”

  Jesus Christ. Are these chicks for real?

  “That’s what we wanted to talk to you about,” says Blondie, and she undoes another button of her shirt. “See, we’ve had our eyes on you. We want you the be the one to cash in our V-cards, Jake.”

  Red walks closer to me. “We heard you’re really good and really … big.” She reaches up to touch the leather of my jacket.

  I can’t stand people touching me. It’s just one of the many unfortunate hangovers of … what happened to me. I grab her wrist in my fist, a little harder than I meant to. Her eyes widen, but I can tell something about the aggression is turning her on even more. I don’t know what it is that makes me, a darkhorse fringe-dweller, irresistible to them. Some primal, female yearning in them wants danger and domination.

  They’ve come to the right place. My cock is ridiculously hard and I’m starting to leak with pre-cum at the thought of fucking all three of them. I’ll make them come then pull out and get them to suck me off. I can only handle anyone touching me when I’m at the knife-edge.

  “Take each other’s clothes off,” I say.

  They giggle again, but they’re not as shy or tentative as they pretend to be. They start peeling off each other’s tops and bras like they’re doing a strip-tease, then they shimmy out of their skirts and panties. They’re touching each other and two of them kiss.

  Fuck.

  I take off my jacket and lay it on the ground for them to kneel on. Then I unzip my jeans.

  They gasp when they see me and they sort of huddle together. I take my cock in my hand and they’re staring at it like they’re half scared and half fascinated.

  “Can we touch it?” one breathes.

  “No. Get on all fours right here in front of me. Nice and close together.”

  They’re giggling nervously but they do it. They get into position.

  “Rest your heads on my jacket and put your hands behind your backs. I’m going to tie your wrists.” I don’t want any of them reaching out for me.

  They look at each other but they obey and I use their shirts to bind their wrists so they’re all positioned there with their asses up, their heads down and their hands tied. I take a condom out of my wallet and roll it on.

  “I’m going to lick you now, girls. Get you nice and wet for my big cock.”

  “Oh my god,” one of them moans.

  I adjust their legs so they’re spread a little more. Fuck, these girls are dripping wet. All three of them are shaved and their pussies are all plump and pink and glistening.

  “I’m gonna eat you and then fuck you and make you come. You’re gonna take whatever I give you.”

  It won’t take long to make these girls come. They’re already practically there.

  I lick Blondie’s pussy. She moans when my tongue sinks into her honeyed core. I lick her everywhere, pushing my tongue into the cove of her ass as my fingers press and squeeze her clit. She’s murmuring my name. She’s moaning something about how I’m hotter and dirtier than she ever imagined. The other girls are writhing and offering themselves to me, whining for it.

  “Jake, lick us. Put your mouth on me.”

  “Me, too, Jake. Please, Jake. Please.”

  I move to Red and fuck her with my tongue. Blondie is close to orgasm and she’s pissed that I leave her hanging. “Jake,” she pleads. “Me, Jake. Come back to me.”

  I’m licking Red but my fingers are on the other two girls’ clits and they’re all crying out for more.

  Fuck. They want it so bad.

  I move to the third girl. I slide my fingers into her pussy and as soon as I suck her clit into my mouth she comes. Her core clenches around my fingers and she’s crying out. “I’m coming, Jake, I’m coming. Oh, god.”

  I let her orgasm spin out then I go back to Red and squeeze her clit as I lick into her pussy until I can feel the soft spasms take hold and she’s moaning. “Jake, fuck me now. Please. I want to feel that big cock.”

  I figure now’s as good a time as any but Blondie’s protesting. “I haven’t even come yet, Jake.” She’s whining and squirming and I’m glad I tied them up. “Give it to me.”

  “Wait your turn,” I growl at her and she’s sort of writhing there, dying for it.

  I take my cock and put the head against the soft slickness of Red’s pussy. She’s so wet her thighs are shiny with it. “Get ready, sweetheart.”

  “I am ready, Jake. I’m ready.”

  So I work her clit a little until I feel the little undulations start rippling around the head of my cock, then I take her hips in my hands and bury myself to the hilt with one forceful thrust. She screams in some combination of pleasure and pain and I do it: I grip her hard and fuck her harder, even though I know I’m hurting her. This is the best and worst of me: the part of me that likes inflicting pain because somehow, for a few seconds, it eases some deep, profound darkness in me. I drive into her deep and hard for a few more thrusts before I find some inkling of self-control. She’s whimpering, half crying and half begging for more. I slow my pace but keep thrusting deep. I find her clit with my fingers and work her pleasure until she’s coming again.

  Once the ripples ease I slide out of her and she sort of crumples against Blondie, who’s whining again. “My turn, Jake. It’s my turn. I want you now.”

  I lean in and lick the little pucker of her ass then I slap her
once, leaving a reddened handprint. “Stop whining. You’ll get yours when I say so. Just for that you’re gonna wait.”

  She starts crying softly so I slap her again and she moans. I thrust two fingers into her and she pushes her ass back against my hand. “Oh, god, Jake. Oh, god.”

  Just as she’s about to come, I slide my fingers out. To torture her. She’s sort of whimpering she’s so close.

  “Not yet, sweetheart. You’re gonna wait for it, I said.”

  I leave her there on the edge and go back to the third girl, the one with the pink streak in her hair. I play her pussy with the head of my cock until she’s rocking back against me. Her back is arched. She’s so wet that with each rocking grind, my cock slides deeper into her tight, slick pussy. She cries out when I break through her virginity but she’s coming, too, and the beast in me wants to punish her. She’ll have pain with her pleasure because that’s the way I roll. She comes hard and her pussy’s milking my thick length. My rage flares and I plunge deep along with each clench of her core. As soon as she finishes I pull out and my cock is hot and hard and slippery.

  When Blondie looks up at me, her eyes are all shiny. “They’ve come twice and I haven’t even come at all,” she says.

  “You’re a greedy girl,” I say.

  “Will you make me come now, Jake?”

  “If you ask nice.”

  “Please. Please, Jake. You’re so beautiful. I want you.”

  Beautiful. Sure. The problem is, once you get past the superficial good looks, I’m bad to the bone.

  “Jake, can I kiss you?” she says.

  Fuck no. I never kiss. Not even once. It’s just not something I’ve ever wanted to do. Fucking is fucking. Kissing is something else altogether. It takes a kind of intimacy that’s way beyond me.

  I don’t bother answering her. Instead I kneel behind her and roughly push her head back down. I spread her open. Then I lick her clit and suck it. I push my fingers into her pussy as my thumb presses into her ass and I bite at her clit until she moans and starts coming. Before her orgasm can fully take hold, I crouch over her, put my cock at her entrance and drive deep. I thrust and thrust and fuck her so hard her knees buckle and she’s lying flat. She gasps and I realize my hand is tight around her throat. My other hand is gripping her thigh and I know she’ll wear the marks tomorrow. Her quivering pussy is so snug around my cock I think I might fucking lose it. This girl loves it rough. She’s panting and crying and pushing her hips up to meet my thrusts but I slide free of her. I have to or I’m going to come.