Jason loosened his tie as he pulled onto his street, wondering if (y/n) would be home. What a day. He was stressed, tired, and still a little pissed from the fight last night.
Damnit. The fight. He still hadn't talked to (y/n) since he'd stormed out, and he had to stop himself from trying to call her all day to apologize, from telling her how much he loved her and that he couldn't live without her. And he couldn't. God, he was pathetic. But he was still pissed. He could count on one hand the all the times he had ever really been angry with her, and this was one of them. But that still hadn't stopped him from thinking about her all day long. Even now, just the thought of what he was going to do to her was enough to make his cock ache like a sore tooth.
Roy had promised the plan would work. They could both be happy, he could prove his point, and (y/n) would learn her lesson. And he'd sworn (y/n) would like it; hell, that she was going to love it. She'd better. Roy may be one of his best friends, but he'd told him not to interfere and he insisted on butting in. At this point Jason wasn't above firing his meddling ass if things went south.
He wondered again if (y/n) had gotten the text he'd sent. He almost hadn't sent it; he'd deleted and re-typed more than 10 times, wondering if she'd even play ball. But he knew a few things about (y/n) after almost four years with her. For one thing, she couldn't resist a challenge. For another, she couldn't resist make-up sex, even if she was still holding a grudge. He was thankful that they hardly ever fought, but sometimes the making up was certainly worth it.
And lastly, she couldn't resist him. God, he fucking loved that about her. He couldn't help thinking about last week when she pulled him into the bathroom at his brother's surprise party and set to work sucking his cock with wild abandon while he white-knuckled the bathroom sink. Then she'd spent the rest of the night whispering dirty things in his ear when no one was looking and making a show of staring seductively at him while she played with the straw on her drink with her tongue. They were barely out of the driveway before he had his hand down the front of her jeans, drawing soft circles on her clit while she moaned and bucked her hips into his hand. It had taken every ounce of control he had not to pull the car over and take her on the side of the road. As it was, they hadn't even made it into the house before they gave into their urges and he ended up bending her over the hood of the car while he pounded her to a screaming release. Thankfully their garage was enclosed and it was a dark night.
Shit. He groaned as he looked down at the tent in his pants. Fucking (y/n). She had this effect on him every damn time. The more he thought about it, the less significant the fight seemed, really. While his brothers or co-workers were complaining about their cold-as-ice girlfriends and wives, he had (y/n), the girl he'd wanted since he was five years old, in his bed every night, and she wanted him. Every damn day, she wanted him. And she loved him, he knew that. And she was perfect. Messy? Jesus, yes. Impatient? Definitely. Impetuous? Oh yes. Stubborn? As a damn mule. But god was she perfect.
He mused over the argument as he got out of the car, not bothering to open the garage and pull the car in. He wasn't sure what kind of reception he'd be getting so it was best to have an exit strategy, just in case. As he made his way to the front door, suddenly the plan didn't seem as good as it did this morning when he was angry and sleep deprived and fucking (y/n) -deprived.
Silence greeted him as he passed through the threshold. It was either a good sign or a really bad one. He dropped his keys on the front table and shed his suit jacket. He started to feel panic creep in. The house was deathly silent, not even the sound of the TV muffled the thuds of his heavy footfalls as he made his way towards the kitchen. He looked down as he checked his phone for the umpteenth time today, disappointed to see still nothing from (y/n). Complete radio silence for the last 18 hours. Not that he was counting.
