He exhaled, clearly getting impatient with me.
“Is that the game you want to play? I’m better at this than you, Quinn.”
That I knew. He was better at a long of things that made a person lesser.
A warm hand squeezed the back of my neck, like he did at the church, and forced me to turn over and look at him. I didn’t even hear him move, didn’t hear his feet on the floor as he walked toward the bed. He was silent, stealthy, a true killer waiting in the shadows. I could only see half of his face in the dark. One half-covered by darkness, the other illuminated by the moon shining through the windows.
His brown eyes were large, with a hint of a golden ring around the irises. He was too close since I could see the different flecks of amber in his eyes. The dark tendril of his hair fell against his cheek, and his jawline flexed as he held me down against the bed, the warmth of his palm sinking into my throat. My pulse jumped wildly, not from the threat of Jaxon but from the want that sparked inside me with him so close.
I thought I had forgotten what it was like to feel his strength against me, but Jaxon had embedded himself in my muscle memory, and stopping my body’s reaction to him was impossible. He was a bad habit, an instinct, a vice I’d never be able to break.
He saw it too, the moment he knew he had me where he wanted me. I stared directly into the devil’s eyes and saw nothing but the flames that wanted to burn me, yet all the flickering flames did was make me hot.
I had yet to speak a word to him. I had no idea what to say but keeping my tongue-tied was in a way a victory for me. My hands were by my head, surrendering in a sense, not to him, but whatever threat he was looming over me.
He gripped the blanket that covered my chest and tugged it down until the air wrapped around my legs, causing my hairs to stand. The shirt fell just above my knee, and his free hand skimmed down my body, his fingers carrying scorching heat, searing my skin as he touched my thigh.
I swallowed a whimper.
No, a plea to have him let go of me because I didn’t want to want his touch. Brian had never touched me like this. We messed around a bit, but I never carried a torch for him the way I did for Jaxon.
I was yearning for a man that murdered his sibling. Just what would he do to me?
His hand caressed my inner thigh, and my legs trembled to fall apart, but I refused to give him the privilege.
“I bet if I felt your pussy, you’d be wet,” he murmured, pressing his nose against mine.
I know he was taunting me. I couldn’t give in. He’d be right, but I wouldn’t be wet because I wanted to be. I couldn’t control how my body reacted to him any more than I could control my need for breath every second. I kept my mouth shut, not giving him an inch to work with because if I did, he’d run a mile with it.
He circled his fingers along my inner thigh, and I closed my eyes and swallowed. I shouldn’t have done that because now he had proof of how he affected me. I snapped my eyes open and lifted my neck against his hand, daring him to tighten it, to get him to get on with killing me.
“Brian is alive if you’re wondering, but you shouldn’t care. He was using you, Quinn.” He brought his lips to my ear, and the depth of his voice had my eyes fluttering. I was glad he couldn’t see me. “He knew about your trust fund, he told me himself, told me he was going to kill you.”
“He would never. You’re a liar!” I spat, finally twisting my tongue enough to speak to him.
“So she talks,” he grins, rubbing his lips across my cheek. “A part of me wished you hadn’t. I liked our game.”
“You’re the killer, not Brian. Brian would never do that to me. He—” I tried to say that Brian loved me, but the words lodged in the back of my throat. I knew deep down Brian and I had more of a mutual love and understanding for one another than being in love; there was a difference, but he had been nothing but kind to me over the years.
Sure, I wanted sex as much as the next woman, but I respected Brian enough to understand why he wanted to wait till marriage. It was hard. So many nights I laid awake with my clit throbbing and an ache between my legs, and I’d always go to the bathroom to take care of myself. Sex with Jaxon was my go-to for quick orgasms, and often, the high never lasted long because even after so many years, I missed the rough hands of a murderer against my skin.
“He what? You can’t even say it. He was going to kill you for your money and flee the country, but you’re blinded.”
“I wasn’t the one who kidnapped a woman and shot her husband at the altar!”
“He isn’t your husband,” Jaxon bit, his lips so close to mine that his beard tickled my chin.
“You made sure of that, didn’t you?” I made sure to say it with all the hate I could muster. “You couldn’t just leave me alone. You always had to get your way—”
“And make no mistake, Quinn,” he cut me off and brushed his lips against mine. He didn’t kiss me, just dangerously teased. “I always get my way. You’ll see the truth. It will just take time.”
“I know the truth,” I whispered, turning my head away from him, so I didn’t have the urge to kiss him. I refused to break. Jaxon was good at tearing down everything in his path to get what he wanted, and I knew the only thing left truly standing in his way to victory was me. I wasn’t sure what truth he had that I’d ever believe, but I didn’t want to know. I wanted to put the past behind me and be free of him once and for all. “Nothing you say will make a difference.”
“Everything I say makes a difference,” he said with so much arrogance that I wanted to spit in his face again. “Because I am the difference, Quinn. You’re blind now, but just wait, and I’ll make you see again.” Jaxon buried his fingers in my hair and gripped the roots so tight I gasped with pain igniting throughout my scalp.
I loved it.
He lifted me up until my torso was up and off the bed, and he yanked my head back, burying his nose in my neck. My hands gripped the sheets, fisting them so hard I wanted to tear the expensive silk.
“I always loved how you smelled,” he growled, lashing his tongue across my neck as if he were a vampire about to sink his teeth in my vein and suck my dry.
“And how is that?” My voice quaked with anger, lust, and fear. My nostrils flared, and my thighs pressed together to relieve the familiar ache between my legs. So many conflicting emotions ran rampant inside me, and the only direction I wanted to go was the path I had convinced myself to stay on for so many years. A road that didn’t lead to Jaxon, but away.
I felt his lips spread, and when he lifted his head from my neck, his straight white teeth gleamed in the darkness. “Like mine,” he said.
Before I could think, I reared my hand back and let it fly, slapping him across the face. His head jerked to the side and stayed frozen in that position. My palm burned, and even in the onyx of the night, I saw the red welt across his face. I must have had a death wish to touch him in such a way, but there was one thing he needed to know. “I will never be yours again,” I seethed.
He stood, the bed rising from the loss of weight. He vanished into the darkness, and for a second, I wondered if I had imagined him there, if he were nothing more than an apparition.
And then, in the void of the deepest part of the room, his maleficent voice spooked me, “We’ll see about that, won’t we?” The door opened, revealing a hallway light for a brief second, and then the door shut again with a soft click.
The presence in the room that woke me disappeared, and I couldn’t help but think that I really did imagine him here.
Maybe this was a dream; I’d wake up tomorrow and laugh at myself.
I knew better.
Jaxon wasn’t a dream.
He was a nightmare.
Chapter Eight
Jaxon
The woman had me harder than a sledgehammer pounding iron nails and angrier than a bull ready to charge. I took a deep breath and sagged against the door. She was exhausting, thrilling, maddening, and invigorating, all at once. She was just
like I remembered, but a bit jaded. I’d take credit for that.
I thought it would be more difficult to convince her of Brian, but I didn’t think it would take as much time as I originally planned. She tried to say he loved her, but couldn’t, something she apparently knew. Right now, she was in denial, but I would be able to convince her of the truth. The small glimmer of uncertainty in her eyes told me that.
I pushed off her door and headed to the right toward the guest room. The image of her sleeping in my bed, her small body wrapped in the same sheets that I slept in, she looked like she belonged there. I couldn’t be a fool to think this wasn’t about her just as much as it was about me. I wanted her.
I had always wanted her from the moment I met her until the years wasted in prison without a word from her. If anyone should hate anyone, I should hate her, but that was impossible. Nothing in this world could ever make me hate Quinn.
She undoubtedly held a bit of hate toward me. I lifted my hand and touched my cheek, smirking when I still felt the low simmer of heat she left behind. No one would dare to ever hit me, or I’d kill them, a quick snap of the neck, but with her, it was different. She could smack me, hit me, spit at me, kick me, and downright disgrace me.
But it would only be to cover up what she really wanted.
Me.
Hate that passionate was derived from love.
She had feelings for me still, buried deep in that brainwashed heart of hers, but it was there, just waiting for me to bring it to the surface.
I had a ten-year plan, and it involved her at my side. I hoped it wouldn’t take her ten years to realize she loved me, but I had to uphold the end of the bargain. At the end of ten years, if she wanted to be free, I’d let her go.
I’d never be far from her, though. I’d always keep an eye on her. I’d always keep her safe since she had no regard for her own safety.
With a heavy sigh as I unbuttoned my shirt, I held the handle of the door down with my elbow then pushed it open with my foot. The slate grey walls had a low cast of lights shining on them, and the bed in the middle of the room wasn’t as big as the bed in my master suite. I stood at the two-way mirror, and my eyes fell on her as she walked down the staircase from the bathroom.
My eyes ate her up. From the tips of her bare feet to the messy blonde bedhead, she was gorgeous. She moved like a lynx, graceful, sly, and ready to pounce. She was feisty, a survivor; she just had no idea what she survived because if I had waited any longer to swoop in, she would have been dead.
And I’d be standing over her grave.
Just the thought had me wanting to go down there and kill Brian for even thinking about laying a hand on her. Her safety was more important than me, but without his confession, I wouldn’t be a free man, and I wouldn’t be the man she needed me to be.
I placed my palms against the cold glass, never taking my eyes off her. Her legs were white and smooth, and that oversized t-shirt stopped below her ass. If she bent over, I’d be able to see what color panties she wore, and just the thought had my hand stroking the hard length under my pants.
I was no saint.
When I got out of prison, I fucked any willing woman that wanted me because it had been so long. It was only to scratch an itch, but none of them sated me like Quinn did. She was different and I hated the effect she had on me. She controlled me, as much as I wanted to control her, she was the master, and I was the puppet.
No one else could know. I’d take that to my grave.
I slung my black, hand-sewn blazer over the chair, never taking my eyes off her. She grabbed a bottled water from the fridge and then placed the cold plastic against her neck as if she were overheated. Her eyes were shut, then her lips parted, and I imagined a beautiful harmonic moan spilling free.
I unbuttoned my shirt the rest of the way, then unzipped my pants, kicked off my shoes, and with a raging erection pointing straight at her, I gripped it, hissing as I watched the innocent motion she displayed. I took my time, watching as she moved the bottle down her neck, and then over her breast.
She was turning herself on.
And she had no idea she was putting on a show.
I grunted as pleasure struck across her face, probably from the cold bottle tightening her perfect pink nipples that I couldn’t wait to get my mouth on again. Her free hand caressed her leg, and I noticed it was the same movements that I had made earlier.
Quinn was thinking of me.
She took off the shirt, and a bead of pre-come dripped from my slit when I saw her breasts. I used my precome as lubricant, stroking myself from seeing those palm-sized mounds. I loved her tits. They fit in my hands perfectly if I remembered correctly.
I should turn away and let her have her privacy. If she ever found out I was watching her as she pleasured herself, it would only confirm what she thought of me. I was a respectful man, but I wasn’t a stupid man, looking away from a woman as beautiful as Quinn would be a criminal offense.
The light from the moon bathed her body and let me see every curve that I hadn’t seen in far too long. She had gone from a teenage girl to a woman filled out in all the right places. Her hips weren’t too wide and perfect for me to latch on to. Her tits were bigger, but not by too much, and her ass was as plump as a ripe peach ready to be picked off the tree.
Her nipples were so tight; I could hardly see the areolas. She was too fucking far away. I growled, displeased with not being able to see all of her. The heavy sack between my legs pulled to my body, and I released my cock when I was on the edge of painting the glass with my come. I needed to take a deep breath.
“You’re beautiful,” I told her, knowing she couldn’t hear me. My fingers rubbed along the glass as I made tight fists. She rubbed the bottle down her abdomen and then placed the cold bottle on her clit.
I couldn’t hear her since every room in the house was soundproof, but I could almost hear her groans if I thought hard enough. Her eyes snapped open, and she looked at herself in the mirror. Could she sense me?
Her eyes bored into mine, and my cock gave another jerk. The damn thing looked ready to explode; it was so hard and red. She bit her lip and sauntered over to me, well, to herself. She must like watching. That was good to know.
Something I hadn’t known before. It looked like I didn’t know everything about her after all.
She lifted her leg until it was on the coffee table next to her and slid two fingers inside that pink hole.
“Fuck,” I grunted and squeezed my cock, jerking myself in angry hard motions as I watched her. Her eyes were hooded, and one kept playing with her nipples as she finger-fucked herself. Her palm rubbed against her clit simultaneously, and I reached down to tug my sack. Her hand slammed against the glass, right where mine was on the other side, and she tossed her head back, and I knew she was moaning, whimpering, chasing that orgasm, she wanted so much. “Dirty girl watching yourself,” I said to her. “I’ll have to spank you for taking what’s mine before I could.”
I stroked myself hard, wishing I was deep in her cunt so I could feel her come around me. Her hand moved ferociously, her palm wet from her juices, and my mouth watered to lick up all her slick, so it didn’t go to waste.
“Fuck, I’m going to come, Quinn. You’re going to make me come,” I whimpered as my breathed changed. I kept my hand tight around myself, wanting to come at the same time she did. She stared into the mirror again, brows furrowed as if she were deep in thought.
What was she thinking about?
“Quinn,” I warned her. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could last. My toes curled, and my cock hurt from holding my orgasm back. “Come on, baby. Come for me. Come for me like you used to,” I demanded.
It was almost as if she could hear me because her mouth fell open, and our hands stuttered at the same time. Her body bowed, and her entire body shook like a leaf as she came.
“Jaxon,” she yelled at the mirror, coming on my name.
I read her lips. There was no mistaking what she s
aid. My come spurted from my cock in fast, thick strings, painting the glass. It almost looked like I came on her stomach since that was where she was standing, and it had another jet of come splattering on the glass. “Quinn,” I said with broken breaths. My shoulders rose and fell. My chest heaved. Sweat dripped into my eyes, but the sting of the salt wasn’t enough for me to look away.
Our hands still touched, or they would be if the glass wasn’t in the way. Maybe she could sense that I was there. We stared at each other as we caught our breaths. I haven’t come that hard since all those years ago with Quinn.
“I still love you,” I admitted, thankful that she couldn’t hear me. That no one could hear me. Even through her hate and lack of faith in me, I loved her. I didn’t blame her for feeling scared at the time; I just blamed her for not loving me enough to believe in me. “I still fucking love you,” I said to the mirror, bitter and angry, and fucking devastated.
Her bottom lip trembled, and she ripped her hand away from the mirror, and I felt the loss of warmth for her palm against mine. She covered her mouth as a sob broke free. Tears fell all too quickly, and my own eyes burned as I watched her fall apart in a different way.
“Jaxon,” she said again. My eyes focused on her lips as she let little tidbits spill free, “Why? Why did you do this to me?” She slammed her hands on the glass, and it shook. She leaned her forehead against the mirror and continued to cry, to break, to let go. “You were supposed to be my forever.” She held her hand against her heart and wailed. I could almost feel the pain and the torment by the amount of tears dripping down her face. She was letting out all the feelings she let build up over the last ten years.
“I am. I always will be your forever,” I said as emotion broke my voice, then placed my forehead against hers too, wishing I could run in there and hold her, but I had a feeling this mirror was as close as I would get.
I switched one prison cell for another.
Chapter Nine
Quinn
Cruel Temptation Page 6
