The Nomad Series-Collectors Edition

by Janine Infante Bosco

  A groan rumbles out of my throat and into her mouth as she wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me back. The softness quickly disappears and our tongues greedily lap at each other, desperate for more…so much more. My hands fall from her face and wrap around her taking purchase on her round ass. I squeeze her through the thin fabric of her little black dress, pressing her against me as I rock my hips into her.

  She breaks our kiss and touches her forehead to mine. Neither of us says a word as we stare back at one another. I lean forward and press my lips gently to the beauty mark cornering her upper lip. A moan escapes her mouth. It’s that sweet fucking sound she makes when she surrenders her body and soul to me…to the pleasure I’m going to bring her. Her moan is the kerosene that ignites the fire inside of me.

  My fingers dig into her ass as I lift her into my arms. She kicks off her shoes and wraps her legs around my waist. I turn us around, stride to the king-size bed centered in the room and drop her onto the edge. She inches back onto the bed but I grab her hands and pin them to her sides.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  She doesn’t answer me but stares back, questioning me with her eyes. I squeeze her hands before I drop them and begin to untuck the dress shirt from my tailored pants.

  “Don’t fuck like I used to,” I explain as I keep my eyes trained to her and undo the buttons of my shirt. “I’m a whole lot more selfish and a fuck of a lot more patient. Been a long time since I had you, Cel, and if tonight is all I get then you better fucking believe with everything in you I will take my time with you. I will enjoy you…fucking savor you, your pussy will never forget who it belongs to.”

  I shrug out of my shirt, let it drop to the floor and hold her gaze as I point to her legs.

  “Spread your legs, baby, give me what belongs to me.”

  Kneeling before her, I place my palms on her knees and watch as she inches her legs apart.

  “Wider,” I command.

  “Jagger,” she hisses.

  “Wider,” I repeat.

  She’s like silk under my fingertips as my hands glide up her thighs to the hem of her dress. Crawling between her legs, I push her dress up her thighs until it pools around her waist. My hands find her bare ass and I growl like a fucking starved animal as I grab her and drag her closer until her ass hangs off the foot of the bed.

  Her hands shake as they brush against mine, reaching for the elastic of her panties. I push her away and hook my fingers around the lace, dragging it down her legs.

  “Keep your hands at your sides,” I instruct as I caress the inside of her thighs. “Don’t lean back either. I want your eyes on me. I want them pinned between your legs watching me eat your pussy. Burn that memory to your brain, baby girl…burn it to your soul.”

  I glance at her hands and watch her knuckles fade to white as she clutches the comforter before bending my head.

  Her gasp echoes in my ears, drowning out the sound of my growl as my eyes drift down to her sleek pussy, perfectly pink and so fucking soaking wet. I swipe my index and middle finger over her, straight down to her ass and back up again before spreading my two fingers wide, opening her up to me. My mouth hovers over her exposed flesh, blowing against her teasingly before my tongue takes its first lap of heaven and washes away my sins.

  I don’t know who the lucky motherfucker will be that gets all of this when I’m gone. I don’t want to even think about it. I just want to love her now.

  My tongue presses against her clit and I shove my fingers in and out of her tight cunt all the while wishing it was enough. Enough that she’ll remember me when the dust settles, that she’ll remember this one fucking night for the rest of her life.

  She grinds her pussy against my face, using the coarse hairs of my five o’clock shadow to enhance her pleasure. My fingers curl inside her as I suck on her clit and breathe through my nose, wishing I could carry the scent of her pussy with me as I wander the world aimlessly.

  “I can’t…” she cries, defying me as she runs her hands over my head and pushes the back of my head deeper between her legs.

  I release her clit, grazing my teeth over her pulsating flesh.

  “You didn’t listen,” I sneer, pulling my fingers out of her.

  “What…what’re you doing?” she stammers.

  “Told you to keep your hands on the bed, didn’t I?”

  “Jagger…”

  “Wanted to come, didn’t you? You were so close…wanted it so bad.”

  Panting, she narrows her eyes and watches as I take my fingers, coated in her essence, and press them under my nose. I take a deep breath, inhaling her scent before trailing my fingers down my body and undo the button on my pants. Tugging down the zipper, I tip my chin toward her.

  “You’re going to come, baby…all over my fucking cock,” I vow as I drag my pants down my legs. “Take your dress off, Celeste. I want to suck on those tits of yours.”

  “Stop teasing me, Jagger,” she hisses as she stands from the bed. In one fluid motion her dress is over her head and on the floor, baring her perfect tits to me. “I don’t like games,” she adds, closing the distance between us as she reaches for my cock.

  “You don’t like losing,” I reply.

  “I don’t like surrendering control,” she corrects, cupping my heavy balls in the palm of her hand. “You’re not the only one here reclaiming what’s yours and I’m not the only one who will leave this room with memories. Now, lay down on the bed so I can sit on your cock and take back what’s mine.”

  Fuck.

  Before I can tame the beast inside of me I lunge for her and thread my fingers deep into her blonde hair. My mouth crashes over hers silencing her.

  That mouth.

  That fucking mouth of hers.

  I’ll remember her mouth.

  I’ll remember the way it fought mine for control, the way it tasted and all the sounds that escaped it.

  Without breaking the kiss, we move back to the bed and she pushes me down. My back hits the mattress and my legs hang off the foot of it, but I don’t move. I grab my cock, give it a nice long pull from tip to root and then pat my thighs.

  “Get on, baby,” I growl as she stares at my cock. “Come home.”

  Her eyes lift to mine as she braces her hands on my shoulders and climbs onto my lap. She leans into me.

  “I hope this night haunts you for the rest of your life,” she whispers against my mouth, rubbing her pussy over the head of my cock. “I hope walking away from me again becomes your biggest regret,” she sneers as she finally takes my cock deep inside of her. Innocence and sin right there between us, reminding us of who we were, what we lost and the sad story of what we became.

  “I hope it kills you as much as it’s going to kill me,” she whispers.

  Fully seated, her body becomes perfectly still and I lift my hands to brush the hair from her face and stare into her eyes, watching as a lone tear escapes the corner of her eye.

  “I hate you,” she whispers.

  I shake my head, swipe the pad of my thumb across her lower lip and arch my hips slightly.

  “You don’t. You wish you could, but even after everything, every lonely night, every tear, you can’t hate me,” I say, brushing my lips softly against hers.

  “It’s all good, baby, I hate myself enough for the both of us.”

  Keeping us joined, my hands move to her ass and carefully I flip her onto her back. I don’t move at first, allowing us both to savor the moment of being one again. I rotate my hips, pull out slowly and drape one of her legs over my shoulder. Her fingers nip at my ass, begging me to give her what she needs. I slowly fill her again. Her pussy welcomes every inch of me as I ease back in. There is nothing between us and having her all around my cock is enough to send me over the edge.

  I can’t control myself and my thrusts become harder, rougher—so fucking out of control that every time my cock slams into her I wonder if I’ll break her. A voice inside tells me I need to slow down th
at I should savor this, but as I look into her eyes and hear my name fall from her lips, I lose myself.

  Skin slaps against skin, breaths become gasps and cries fade into prayers as she claws my back. Lifting her hips one final time before her pussy tightens around my cock, she screams my name begging for more, taking it as one orgasm blends into another.

  It’s fucking beautiful.

  It’s fucking everything.

  Her body falls lax as I continue to pump her, circling my hips as I bend down and take her mouth with mine. Her lips part and with the taste of her on my tongue I let go, branding her forever mine as my release shoots through her.

  Her.

  Always fucking her.

  Always mine.

  -Four-

  Celeste

  We were seventeen the first time we had sex. Two inexperienced kids fumbling around in the back seat of his dad’s car. It didn’t matter that we had fooled around a bunch of times, nothing could have prepared me for that night and how fucking badly it hurt. I remember feeling disappointed when it was over, but when Jagger grinned as he pulled out of me I forced a smile because I was no Debbie Downer. It was obvious he enjoyed the six minutes we spent fogging up the windows.

  Eventually we found our way, night after night, he’d climb through my window or I would sneak into the back door of his house and we would experiment with our bodies, figuring what worked for us. It was all vanilla in the beginning until we mastered the things that got us off. We became brazen enough to try all the things you would find between the pages of one of those dirty romance novels my mother always kept on her nightstand. It wasn’t long before we started going at it every chance we got. Chasing orgasms kept us out of trouble and allowed us to forget the black cloud that seemed to follow us everywhere. Behind the bedroom walls we were two kids unaffected by the twisted world we lived in and the nightmare we were burdened with. We were free from the truth and able to live in the moment.

  I don’t remember the last time we had sex or even the last time we kissed and that wrecked me for a long time. Maybe if I did, I would have been able to supplement the lack of closure. Maybe if he’d given me then what he gave me now, I would have been able to look back and say there was an ending.

  Tonight, he kissed me goodbye with his body and wrote the end of our childhood romance.

  We’re not those kids anymore.

  I’m not sure who we are.

  They say tragedy changes people but no one ever said it killed them.

  The old Jagger I knew and loved was gone and the man panting beside me was nothing more than a stranger. Before I threw caution to the wind, I rationalized with myself that if I had just one night with him, then I’d finally be able to move on. The resentment I harbored for six years could finally fade and the ghost of the boy I loved would no longer haunt me. As I lay here staring at the ceiling with tears in my eyes, I realize all that’s left is the phantom of us.

  The sheets rustle beside me and the mattress dips as he rolls onto his side. Throwing his legs over the edge of the bed, I don’t have to look at him to know he’s ready to flee. It’s what he does best. However, this time I’m not expecting anything so maybe it won’t hurt as much as it did the first time he left me.

  Who am I kidding?

  I might not know anything about the man he is now but my heart doesn’t understand that and still sees him as the other half of a tragic love story.

  Dramatic, I know…but true.

  Jagger and I never stood a chance.

  Suddenly feeling vulnerable and as though I’m exposing more than just my body to a stranger, I clutch the sheet and cover myself, naively thinking I’ll mask my heart with the thin cotton. I steal a glance at him and watch as he leans forward on his elbows and swipes a hand over his face. My gaze roams over his back, taking in the tattoos covering every inch of skin, lingering on the delicate script that stretches across his shoulder blades and reads his sister’s name. I swallow, pushing back the memory of that night and the flashing lights that blinded us as we turned the corner of his block.

  Lights that symbolized the beginning of the end of our carefree existence.

  “Ask me why once more,” he says hoarsely as he drops his hand from his face and glances over his shoulder at me.

  Feeling the intensity of his gaze, I swallow down the lump in my throat before I speak.

  “Why did you leave?” I whisper.

  “Because leaving New York was the only shot left at finding out what happened to my sister,” he admits. “After the cops shoved her file along with all the other cold cases that no one gave a shit about, my parents turned over every piece of information collected since the day she went missing to a bounty hunter.”

  My eyes close as I fight to stay in the moment and not relive the nightmare, but when images of my smiling friend assault me; my eyes snap open and stare back at his. Some scars aren’t visible, some are imbedded deep in a person’s soul and those don’t fade with time.

  “The man serving you and your date tonight is Rick Grayson, and he’s the man my parents hired on the strength of one meeting and the promise to bring our family closure,” he reveals.

  “Wait a minute—”

  “As per Rick’s order we moved in the middle of the night, taking only the necessities and abandoned everything and everyone,” he interrupts, turning slightly so he is fully facing me and reaches for my hand.

  “I thought if I discovered the truth then we could lay the tragedy to rest. I thought I could come back to you and free us both from the guilt we’ve been carrying since she first went missing. I learned that I’ll never be free from this. I will carry this with me until the day I die…but you, you don’t have to.”

  I shake my head in confusion, still stuck on the fact that he knew the waiter in the restaurant. My hand moves to my throat as if rubbing a hand down my throat will ease the suffocation his admission inflicts.

  “The waiter,” I croak.

  “He’s no waiter, baby,” he replies as his hand moves to my knee. “And the man whose arm you were on tonight…”

  His jaw clenches and his eyes darken as he glances down at his hands.

  “That’s the man who killed my parents.”

  What? I’m sure I misheard him. I shake my head but his eyes lift to mine and the pain radiating from them confirms one family tragedy bled into another.

  “Jagger—”

  “I need to know what that man means to you,” he interrupts, removing his hand from my knee before rising to his feet. “No lies, Celeste…I gave you the truth, now give me mine.”

  “He’s nobody,” I stutter, trying to wrap my head around everything he dumped on me. “He was a patient at the hospital who asked me out.”

  “Is there any way he can tie you to me or to what happened?”

  “No, he doesn’t even know my last name. It was our first date,” I say as I try to backtrack to be sure. After a moment, I stare back at him. “He killed your parents,” I whisper disbelievingly. “Is he responsible for Alexandria’s disappearance too?”

  “No, the man he works for is.”

  “Is she—”

  “She’s gone,” he says quickly.

  I don’t think any of us, me nor anyone in the Richardson family, believed that Alexandria was still alive. The cops had never found her body and with no body we couldn’t consciously say she was dead. Especially Jagger, he would lash out at anyone who even insinuated that his sister had been murdered.

  Now here he is saying the words nobody ever wanted to say. The words that sealed the fate of the girl who was cruelly taken from us. I feel the tears stain my cheeks as the sob spills from my mouth.

  “Listen to me, Celeste,” he says, walking around the bed to kneel next to me. Imploring eyes trace every feature of my face. “I don’t have much time but it’s important for you to understand what I’m telling you.”

  “This is too much,” I cry, leaning back against the headboard as I shake my head and peel my
eyes off of him. “I can’t handle this right now, Jagger—”

  “You don’t have a choice,” he argues, placing his palm to my cheek, his thumb skates over my chin before he turns my head and forces me to look at him.

  “Tonight never happened. Jagger Richardson is dead to you, do you hear me? He’s dead,” he stresses. “Your fucking life depends on those words…give them to me, let me hear you say it,” he demands gravely.

  Tears roll down my cheeks as I realize that the words I once told myself in an attempt to ease my broken heart are now very much my truth.

  “Jagger Richardson is dead,” I sob, choking over the words.

  It’s times like this I wonder if God and Heaven truly exist. How does one continue to believe in Him when He gives you a million reasons to quit the life He bestowed upon you? He stuck Jagger and me in this vicious cycle of loss, tossing one heartbreak after another at us, each one worse than the other. While I held onto faith, Jagger gave up, and now I know why.

  He leans over me, presses his lips to mine quickly before he cups my face and stares back at me with his heart on his sleeve and conviction in his eyes.

  “But he died loving you,” he rasps.

  I wrap my hands around his wrists desperate to hold onto him…to keep him.

  “Don’t go. Stay with me…choose me,” I plead, glancing over his shoulder at the offensive duffel bag. I may not know what has happened in the last six years, but I know deep down inside there is a sliver of the innocent boy who loved me.

  “Whatever it is you’re planning on doing with those guns, don’t do it. Don’t throw your life away. You said it yourself…she’s gone. We don’t have to spend the rest of our lives blaming ourselves. We can turn evil to good if you stay.”

  His thumb brushes over my lips and he leans in, pressing his lips to my forehead.