Infinite Cashback System

Chloe’s fingers hooked into the waistband of his jeans and tugged, and Jordan lifted his hips to help because his brain had officially stopped processing anything except the girl straddling him in a bunny bodice with tears drying on her cheeks.

His jeans hit the floor. His boxers followed. And then there was nothing between them except air and the faint golden glow of his phone on the nightstand, still pulsing with notifications neither of them cared about.

“The suit,” he managed. “Chloe, the pregnancy thing, we said—”

“I know what we said.”

She rose up on her knees, one hand braced on his chest, and looked down at him with eyes that had gone completely dark. The bodice pushed everything together in ways that made it hard to think, and the white collar sat at her throat like a claim, and somewhere in the back of his mind the rational part of Jordan McKnight screamed that this was a catastrophically bad idea.

The rest of him watched Chloe position herself over him and thought, very calmly, that he’d never wanted anything more in his entire pathetic life.

“I don’t care,” she whispered. Her voice cracked in the middle. “Jordan, I don’t, I spent six months building walls and counting money and pretending I didn’t want things because wanting things meant being vulnerable and being vulnerable meant getting hurt and I’m so tired, I’m so fucking tired of being careful—”

“Chloe.”

“Make me yours.” She lowered herself, just a fraction, and he felt the heat of her against him, slick and ready and shaking. “Fully. Completely. Whatever the suit does, whatever happens, I want—”

She sank down.

Jordan’s brain whited out.

The sound that came out of Chloe wasn’t human, this broken wailing moan that started somewhere in her chest and climbed until it cracked against the ceiling, and her whole body seized around him as she took him in, inch by impossible inch, her thighs trembling so hard he could feel them vibrating against his hips.

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god—” The words ran together into nonsense. “You’re so, nngh, you’re so deep, I can feel you in my, Jordan, Jordan baby I can feel you everywhere—”

His hands found her waist. The bodice left her skin bare there, warm and sweat-slick under his palms. She felt small. Breakable. Real in a way that made his chest tight, because she’d just handed him something that couldn’t be undone, couldn’t be walked back, and the weight of that trust sat heavier than any spreadsheet or System notification ever had.

“Move,” she gasped. Her hips rolled against him, testing, desperate. “Please, I need you to move, the suit is making everything too much and if you don’t move right now I’m going to actually die, I’m serious, Jordan please—”

He thrust up. Hard.

“AAAH!”

Her back arched so violently the bunny collar pressed tight against her throat. Her nails dug into his chest, scoring lines that would absolutely still be there tomorrow. The sound that tore out of her wasn’t a moan anymore. It was a scream. Raw and unfiltered and loud enough that someone three floors down probably just woke up confused. Her walls clenched around him like a vice, tight and hot and pulsing in rhythmic waves, and Jordan had to close his eyes and think very hard about quarterly revenue projections for a solid five seconds to avoid ending this in the most embarrassing thirty seconds of his life.

When he opened his eyes again, Chloe was staring down at him with pupils blown so wide her blue eyes looked black.

“Again,” she whispered. “Do that again.”

Schlick. Schlick. Schlick.

The wet sounds filled the room as Chloe started riding him, her hips rolling in desperate little circles, chasing something that kept slipping away from her. Her mouth hung open. Her eyes had gone glassy and unfocused. The bodice shifted with each movement, barely containing anything, and Jordan watched her bounce on his cock and thought, with the specific smugness of a man who’d spent three months being pathetic and was now balls-deep in the girl of his dreams, that life was extremely good sometimes.

“There, there, right there don’t stop don’t you dare stop—” Her voice pitched higher. “I can feel you hitting my, nngh, every time you go deep it’s like, Jordan, your cock is reshaping my insides, I’m gonna remember the shape of you forever—”

“That’s the charm effect talking.”

“I don’t CARE if it’s the charm effect talking it FEELS TRUE—”

He gripped her waist harder and thrust up again, deeper this time, and Chloe’s words dissolved into incoherent sobbing moans. Her head fell back. The column of her throat gleamed with sweat in the amber light from the windows, and Jordan leaned up to bite the soft skin just under her jaw, felt her clench around him in response, felt her whole body go rigid and then liquid and then rigid again.

“Fuck me,” she whimpered. “Fuck me fuck me fuck me, harder, I need you to wreck me, I need you to ruin me for anyone else, make it so I can’t even think about another man without comparing him to how you feel inside me right now—”

The old Jordan would have apologized for wanting to do exactly that.

New Jordan just flipped them.

Chloe hit the sheets with a yelp, her black hair spreading across the grey fabric like a ink spill, and then Jordan was over her, between her thighs, his hands planted on either side of her head as he drove into her from above. The angle change made her scream again, her back bowing off the mattress, her legs wrapping around his waist and pulling him deeper.

Pap. Pap. Pap.

The sound of skin against skin filled the loft, rhythmic and obscene, and Jordan set a pace that had Chloe’s words fragmenting into syllables.

“Jor—ah—I’m—nngh—you’re gonna make me—again—it’s too—the suit—everything’s so—THERE!”

She came around him, hard, her walls spasming in waves that made his vision blur at the edges. Her nails raked down his back hard enough to draw blood. Her cry of his name echoed off the factory windows and probably traveled into Unit 405 and possibly into the parking lot below.

He didn’t stop.