Every cell of his body pulsed with desire. With lust. This wasn’t sex after a dry spell. This was as if he’d never had sex before.
Was this going to work?
It had to or either his heart or his dick was going to burst with suppressed desire.
He cleared his throat. “You’re—you’re not a generic woman. You’re Lauren Dare and I have wanted you since the second I met you.”
Her eyes flickered. Was this news to her? Then her mouth turned up slightly. “That’s, um, interesting. I hadn’t actually understood that.”
Jacko nearly sighed as he realized that huge divide between men and women. His bosses, Midnight and Senior, talked about this often. Metal, too. Metal looked as much like a thug as Jacko and could never find a woman who wasn’t either scared of him or wanted to fuck him precisely because he looked so rough. It bothered Metal, but it had never bothered Jacko. He lived in a world of men and exited it long enough to fuck, then went right back in.
Inviting a woman into his world hadn’t really occurred to him. Only now that he wanted Lauren, he realized that though he wanted this like he wanted his next breath he was opening up a real hornet’s nest, because men and women didn’t speak the same language.
Lauren thought he was indifferent to her and every man at ASI knew his dick was dragging the floor following her around.
By the same token, women’s words all seemed to mean something different. It was going to be a problem, which he was definitely going to tackle after he’d had Lauren about a million times and got this major wood out of his system. Maybe two million times.
He took the hand he’d unclamped from the wall and placed it under her elbow. He touched only cloth, which was probably a good thing. Because right now? He wanted to throw her to the ground and jump on top of her.
Don’t fuck this up, he told himself.
He moved away, every cell in his body stiff, directing her by his hand on her elbow. He drew her away from the wall. “Jacko?” she said, making the word a question.
“I thought we could—we could take this to the bedroom.” He looked at her carefully. She wanted to fu—to make love. They should be in a bed for that because though for him up against the wall, down on the floor, bent over the sofa, naked in a field of snow—all those worked for him, Lauren was a lady and he wanted her to be comfortable, and that meant a bed.
Didn’t it?
Hell if he knew. Nothing about any of this was familiar to him.
“Bedroom,” he repeated, whole sentences now beyond him. The house was small and he had an excellent sense of space. Though he’d only been in the living room and the big room where she worked, he knew where the last room was, though he’d never been inside. But having her lead him there would again put some control in her hands.
Her head tilted. “That way.”
Yep. That way. He nudged her across the room, down the corridor, stopping at the threshold of her bedroom. There was a little light filtering through the snow from the streetlight outside her bedroom window. Bed, chest of drawers, rocking chair. But it wasn’t those that told him he was in the right room—it was the smell. The whole frigging room smelled like her skin. Fuck.
He couldn’t do this and not breathe; that wouldn’t work. But every time he took in a breath it was as if he breathed in Lauren.
He walked her to the bed, stopping just short of it, feeling as if he were strapped with bricks of C4, just about to detonate. Lauren was looking up at him and in the dim light she seemed unearthly, some shimmering creature sent to earth to torment him. Beautiful, magical, unattainable.
She reached up on tiptoe again and kissed him, moving her mouth over his, tasting him. Not unattainable, no. But still beautiful and magical.
Jacko cupped her head with his hands, soft warm hair tumbling over them, and deepened the kiss, sliding his mouth over hers, tasting her, breathing through her. She curved her hands over his wrists, anchoring him, as if he might run away.
No, he wasn’t going anywhere.
He lifted his head, looking down at her, her skin glowing in the semidarkness like a pearl. His body was split into two. Above the waist he could just stand here forever, looking at her face. Below the waist his dick was screaming—get going you asshole! What are you waiting for?
A sign. That’s what he was waiting for. A sign that her excitement was one billionth of his.
He kissed her again, slow and deep, raising his head just a little, feeling her breath wash over him. Her eyes were closed, mouth a little swollen.
“Jacko,” she whispered.
Okay. That was a sign. Wasn’t it?
He let go of her head, lightly ran his palms over her shoulders, down her sides to her narrow waist, touched the zipper at her back. Looked at her.
She smiled.
Yeah.
Slowly, Jacko unzipped the dress, spread it. It fell unnoticed to the floor and he stared. Oh man. She had on a lace bra, pretty and delicate. There wasn’t enough light to see exactly what color it was—something pale. Pink or yellow, maybe. There was plenty of light to see that it had a front opening. Jacko reached out and touched the fastening, watching her eyes. He could do this by touch, no need to watch his hands. Watching her eyes was enough. It came apart easily under his hands. He could field strip his rifle blindfolded. A bra snap was nothing, if it weren’t for the fact that his hand was shaking lightly.
She couldn’t know what that meant—for a sniper’s hands to shake.
The two cups rested on her breasts. They were surprisingly full for such a small woman, filling his hands nicely. He opened the bra and it slid to the floor too and his hands were on her, soft and warm and perfect. He flicked his thumbs over her nipples, felt them harden, heard her breath speed up.
Panties. Fast.
His hands were shaking a little more now, had lost dexterity. He fumbled a bit, fitting his fingers into the elastic at her hips, careful not to rip. Very careful, because they felt like silk and looked expensive. They fell to her feet and he kneeled, lifting each foot until the panties were off. A moment and her soft slippers were off too. That left only black thigh-highs, and he stopped for a second, kneeling before her, just looking, because it was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen in his life. Lauren, naked except for those dark stockings with the lace at the top hugging her thighs. Pale and soft and perfect. A wet dream.
Slowly, slowly, he rolled the stockings down, face so close to her mound he could smell her desire. When he got her stockings off, he kissed her flat belly and stood, wincing at the boner.
When he stood back up again it felt like a club hanging off the front of his body. She was beyond beautiful. It was as if life had reached inside his head and pulled out a picture of the kind of woman guaranteed to drive him wild then came up with a match. Soft, slender yet curvy...just perfect.
And...blonde. She was a natural blonde, a strip of pale pubic hair covering her mound.
She didn’t try to hide herself, didn’t position her hands to cover herself. She just watched his eyes and must have seen something in them that made her smile.
“Me, now,” Jacko said, voice rough.
She blinked.
“Undress me.”
“Oh!” Lauren cocked her head to one side, stepped closer to him. He could feel her body heat all along the front of his body. She thought he wanted her to undress him as a form of foreplay, but that wasn’t it. He wasn’t sure he could get naked in a way that wouldn’t scare her. Ripping his shirt and trousers off would probably scare her.
So he stood, trying not to pant, as she reached up to unbutton the super-white dress shirt he’d had tailor-made together with the tux because he couldn’t find sizes that fit him. He was glad he’d sprung for the outrageously expensive Egyptian cotton because he could tell the feel of it pleased her. When she’d unbuttoned him to the bottom and unbuttoned his cuffs she placed her palms against his chest and rubbed her fingers over the material.
“Off,” he ordered and she gave a secret little
smile, as if she understood she’d reduced him to one-syllable words.
In a second, his shirt was fluttering to the floor, the heavy cotton making a slight sound as it hit the ground. Her fingers moved to his pants and he bit back a moan. His dick, swollen beyond any reasonable measure, made it hard to unfasten the tux pants. Every time her fingers brushed him beneath the cloth, his dick moved, trying to get closer to her.
Finally she got him unfastened and unzipped. He actually had briefs on, something rare for him. But he was glad he did because it made him seem more civilized than having her unzip him and having his dick spring out in her face.
She looked down at him. Tactics. He was really good at tactics. And strategy. Goal: getting naked. How? That was where tactics came in. He reached down and unzipped the sides of his boots, again glad he’d sprung for brand new ones. He and Metal both disliked shoes, being too used to combat boots. These didn’t lace up but that was fine. He toed them off and stood in his stocking feet.
Christ. Why did people have to wear so many fucking clothes? He should have had a loincloth that he dropped and he could pick her up, drop her on the bed and drop on top of her. The whole process taking about two seconds. But no.
And she was so freaking slow. Or at least that’s what it felt like. She pulled his pants down and he obediently lifted his feet, and she actually turned and placed the trousers on a chair, neatly folded. He couldn’t have managed that, not in the state he was in. She pulled off his socks, slowly, laying those neatly on top of his boots.
Lauren stood, eyeing him. He stood at a modified parade rest, except he didn’t have his hands folded over his crotch as soldiers usually did. He had on a white tee and black briefs and he thought he could actually see the options flit through her mind. Tee first or briefs? Tee. She lifted the hem, tugged, and he obediently bent forward so she could pull it off then stood straight again.
Her eyes went right to his shoulder. She’d seen his wrist tats of course. Unless it was freezing, Jacko usually dressed in a tee and vest. She’d never seen the tribal tats that covered one shoulder, down over his pec, one swirl surrounding a nipple. A Samoan American buddy of his had drawn them for him, each inch symbolic of something in his life, though right now he was too blasted by lust to remember anything.
“That’s beautiful,” she whispered, running her hand over his shoulder, over the tribal tats. They were dense and dark. “Did it hurt?”
“Some,” he admitted. Like a bitch.. “You’re missing an item of clothing.”
Her gaze lowered and her eyebrows lifted. She caught her thumbs in the sides of his briefs and tugged them down. They caught on his dick and he closed his eyes when she pulled out the material so it could slip over him. The briefs fell and he kicked them aside.
Lauren’s eyes were fixed on his dick and he didn’t blame her. It barely looked like a human organ. It was bigger than he could ever remember it being, huge and red and inflamed. He could feel her gaze on him as if it were her hands, and his dick moved.
“Just from me looking at you?” she murmured.
“Touch me,” he ordered and her hand lifted to him. Her skin was very pale against him as she stroked him from base to tip. He jerked and hissed, completely uncontrollable reactions.
Lauren jerked her hand away as if she’d touched a red-hot stove.
Oh God. How excited was she? He was normally big and now he was huge. He didn’t want to hurt her. He looked her over carefully. How the fuck could you tell with women? She looked slightly flushed but it was too dark to be sure. Her nipples were small and hard, darker than the pale pink skin surrounding them, but was that enough?
Only one way to find out.
He placed his dark hand over her belly, smooth and sleek, ran it down, cupped her. Slid a finger in her and...yes! She was slick and soft. But small. He frowned and reached deep inside the wet softness, stroking, and felt her contract around his finger. Saw the muscles in her belly pull.
Lauren let her breath out in a long sigh.
“You’re tight,” he said, voice ragged.
Her eyebrows raised and she studied his face. “It’s...been a while.”
At her words, his dick swelled impossibly bigger and her eyes grew large. “You like that. That I haven’t had sex in a while.”
“Hmm.” It felt like a huge band of heat constricted his chest. He could barely breathe, let alone speak.
“Isn’t that politically incorrect?”
He shrugged. Yeah, he liked it a lot that she hadn’t had sex in a while. And he was going to make damned sure she didn’t have sex with anyone else but him for the foreseeable future. But right now there was something else on his mind.
“Don’t want to hurt you,” he mumbled.
Lauren watched his eyes and stepped toward him. Her breasts brushed against his chest and her belly rubbed against his dick. He blew out a breath.
“You won’t hurt me, Jacko.”
He could feel her breathing against him, breasts and belly lifting against him slightly with every breath she took.
“Jacko? Are you going to make me beg?”
On a scale of the top ten things he wanted to do, having sex with Lauren was the top nine, riding his bike coming in last. What the fuck was he doing? She thought he didn’t want her. How crazy was that?
But...if he moved he’d explode. And he didn’t know what he wanted to do first. Sliding into her immediately was out of the question. She said he wouldn’t hurt her but he would. At least she’d be uncomfortable until he got her more excited. He didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable, not for one second. He wanted her wet and hot, completely open and ready.
So...how? How to have foreplay without his head and dick exploding first?
“Lie down.” Lauren’s eyes widened again. His tone was rough, guttural. He cleared his throat to modulate his voice but she was already lying on the bed, quietly watching him.
Jesus. Just look at her. She was relaxed, one hand lying on her belly, breathing easy, waiting. Incredibly beautiful, every line of her just perfect.
It was like having a bed full of C4 and she was the detonator.
Jacko placed a hand and a knee on the bed and prepared to blow up.
* * *
The mattress dipped to take Jacko’s heavy weight. He moved slowly and cautiously as if he expected her to run away any second now. But she wasn’t going to run away. This next part was probably going to get really interesting.
If she thought Jacko would roll on top of her like any other man would, she was mistaken. He lay at her side, propped up on one massive arm, looking at her. His entire body was like a heater—warmth emanated from him, penetrating skin, penetrating bone.
He bent his head and kissed her shoulder while his free hand skimmed down between her breasts, over her stomach, down to between her legs.
“Open your legs,” he whispered against her skin and her legs slid apart, as if they were there to do his bidding. That big hand disappeared between them. All she could see was his brawny forearm with the barbed wire tats around his thick wrist but she could feel him touching her. Slowly, carefully. Running a callused finger gently around her opening.
He thought she needed foreplay, needed warming up? Surely he could feel how slick she was, feel moisture coming with each stroke of his finger. And foreplay wasn’t necessary with a naked Jacko in her bed. He was living, breathing foreplay.
She turned her head to look at him, take him in. He was grim-faced as usual. Well, she was familiar with his face. He wasn’t a handsome man but then his attraction didn’t lie in his face. His attraction was that overwhelming maleness.
When they’d kissed in her living room she’d felt him, felt those hard muscles, but it had been through layers of clothing. Now she could see what she’d only felt before and it was just...amazing. His dark skin was tough, like leather. Each muscle was clearly delineated, thick ropy raised veins running under the skin. He had so little body fat that in some places she could see the stria
tion of muscle tissue. With all that he had a bodybuilder’s physique he didn’t look blocky or awkward. He looked like a Platonic ideal of man, perfect.
He was lying on his side, his shoulders so broad that he blocked out her vision. All she could see, stretching from horizon to horizon, was dark-skinned muscle, her world reduced to a cage of man.
Everything fell away. Her problems remained, but as distant clouds on the horizon. There, menacing, but not a threat right now, zooming out to the distance while the foreground of her consciousness was heat and desire, not cold, empty loneliness.
Fine by her, let Jacko drown out the world. The world had taken huge bites out of her. Jacko wasn’t going to hurt her in any way. If anything, he was being too gentle. His fingertip circling her was barely touching her flesh. Her hips were gently moving, trying to deepen his touch.
She opened her mouth, though she wasn’t sure what she wanted to say, and he leaned over and kissed her breast, and all that came out of her mouth was a deep sigh. Everything was happening in slow motion, slow movements, lush and languid. Except for those moments when his thumb brushed her clitoris and sent electricity through her. But then he moved right past, the beast.
His mouth, too, teased her as he nibbled his way around her breast, soft lips with the slight bite of stubble giving her goose bumps.
Clearly Jacko wasn’t going to do anything fast, and she couldn’t imagine making him do something he didn’t want to do, so she let herself enjoy the slow—very slow, glacially slow—seduction. It was so silent in the room, no noises from the street. It was a quiet street and the gentle snow ate up all sound. The only sounds were the incredibly erotic sounds Jacko was making with her body, as if she were some musical instrument—his lips on her breast, his hand on her sex.
She felt cocooned in some magical place where no worries were allowed. The only things allowed in the room were heat and desire, Jacko’s hands and mouth bringing them up from someplace deep inside of her. A place that had been deserted for so long.
Jacko’s mouth found her nipple just as his finger penetrated her and that lazy warm feeling of floating on water changed, sharpened, and she started contracting around his finger in an electric climax.
Midnight Vengeance Page 6
