“Laney,” he pleaded, but he didn’t know for what.
She looked up at him as she brought her mouth to his balls. Her tongue moved in slow, torturous strokes over his sac, her eyes trained on him, still heated with conflicting emotions. She tugged his jeans to his ankles.
“Off,” she demanded. “Now.”
He kicked off his boots and stripped, willing to give her anything and everything he had.
She spread his legs, lifted his sac, and licked the sensitive skin beneath. He closed his eyes against the surge of desire rushing down his spine. Laney took what she wanted, dragging her tongue over him until his sac tightened and he groaned aloud. Then she stripped from her clothes, crushed her bare breasts to his chest, and thrust his hand between her legs.
“See what you do to me?” Her eyes glared into his. “Bryce doesn’t make me this wet. No man makes me this wet.” She sank onto his fingers and moaned as she took his other hand and licked his palm, leaving a dollop of wetness in the center, then wrapped it around his cock. “Fuck me while you get yourself off.”
He clenched his jaw. She loved to watch him jerk off as much as he loved to watch her, but right then he wanted to do so many dirty things to her that jerking off wasn’t part of the plan. He stroked his rigid length as his fingers fucked her, furtively seeking her pleasure point. She went up on her toes, guiding him as she gripped his wrist, breathing hard, holding his hand in place.
“There. Oh God, Jackson. Right there.”
He stroked her as she watched him touching both of them, and—fuck—it turned him on so much his thighs were shaking. Her legs went stiff as she tightened around his fingers.
“I’m gonna…Jackson. I want to see you come, too.” She cradled his balls as he stroked his cock, still working his magic inside her tight pussy. She was panting, a sheen of sweat formed on her upper lip. Her hands moved to his biceps, fingernails digging into his skin, as she rode his hand faster, then shattered—hips bucking, inner muscles pulsating.
“I want to fuck you, Laney,” he said between gritted teeth.
“Yes, God, yes, Jackson.”
“Hard and rough, Laney. I want to drive into your ass and finger-fuck you until you explode, and then I want to pound into your pussy and make you come again all over me.” He pulled her face to his and captured her moans in his mouth as she rode out another climax. Then he turned her around, holding her hips, and guided her a few feet forward to a tree.
She gripped the trunk with both hands and bent at the waist as he kicked her legs wide. She was too fucking sexy for words, and she was the only woman he could ever be completely himself with—holding nothing back. Allowing his emotions to drive their ride, rough or tender, whatever he needed. Hell, he was the same way with her. He took whatever she needed or wanted to give. They were always perfectly matched.
“Fuck. I need lube and a condom, because I want to fuck that wet pussy of yours afterward.” He disappeared into the tent and came back sheathed, lubed, and ready.
“Hurry,” she pleaded into the night. “God…hurry.”
He clutched her hips and pressed the head of his cock to her tightest hole.
“You’re sure?”
“Jackson!” She glared at him over her shoulder. “Stop being careful with me and fuck me already.”
He thrust past the tight ring of muscles and felt her entire body stiffen. Her head fell between her shoulders with a long exhalation as she pressed her hips back, taking all of him in. He slid a hand around her hip and teased her wet folds, expertly finding her swollen clit with his thumb, stroking, taunting as he began to move in her ass.
“Oh, fuuuuuck.” Her voice was shaky.
“Am I hurting you?”
“God…Oh God. Only in the best kind of way.”
With one hand on her hip, he leaned over her and brought his teeth to the back of her neck as his hips met her ass, time and time again. His fingers sank into her, matching the rhythm of his cock as he fucked her hard.
“I’m not gonna last,” he said against her ear. “Use your hand. Squeeze your nipple.”
She did, and her sweet, sexy moan vibrated through her as another climax clutched her, sending her upright, her back flush against his chest. Her body pulsed and thrust, and he slammed his eyes shut against the urge to come.
“I love fucking you,” he ground out. And when he couldn’t take it anymore, he withdrew from her ass and turned her in his arms. “You’re a fucking goddess. You know that, right, Laney? Tell me you know I’d never do this with anyone else.”
“I know.” Her voice trembled. “Hold me, Jackson. Hold me.”
He wrapped one strong arm around her and crushed his mouth to hers, then scooped her into his arms and carried her into the tent, where he lay her down on the blankets and stripped off the condom, tossing it outside the tent. Her legs were shaking as he spread them wide and lowered his mouth between her legs.
“Too sensitive,” she said.
But he knew that only meant she’d come even harder. He pressed her thighs to the blanket and loved her with his mouth, sliding his tongue up and over her sensitive flesh as she writhed beneath him. Her head shifted from side to side, hands fisting in the blanket. He sucked her clit into his mouth, earning himself another sexy moan, then pushed his tongue into her wet center as she came on his tongue.
He moved swiftly up her body and took her in another demanding, possessive kiss, because right that second, she was his. Only his. He sank his cock into her and gathered her against him, holding her tight, wanting to brand her as his own. He opened his palm and stared at the tattoo of the key, but it was too much. He had to close his eyes against it. He didn’t want to lose her to some other man. He thrust in at a frantic, greedy pace as she clawed for purchase, her nails dragging across his shoulders and back—branding him with her marks.
“I’m gonna—” Her eyes slammed shut. “Oh God, Jackson.”
She locked her ankles around his waist, and the next hard thrust sent them both over the edge. Heat seared down his spine with each ejaculation. He captured her mouth with his, swallowing her gasps for breath with every buck of her hips. Aftershocks rattled through them, until they finally—blissfully—collapsed to the blankets, utterly sated and spent, tangled in each other’s arms.
Chapter Six
THE NEXT MORNING Laney lay on her side as the sun trickled in through the umbrella of trees, sprinkling light through the tent’s little screen window. She loved early mornings when they were camping. On the occasions when she stayed at Jackson’s place or he stayed at her place in the city, Jackson almost always awoke before her. Sometimes he even went on a morning run before she got out of bed, but when they were camping and it was just the two of them, without work rattling around in their heads or commitments looming, he usually slept in. In sleep, the tension that kept his jaw tight and his brows a little downturned wasn’t there.
One of his arms was arced over his head and his other hand lay on his stomach. He had slept in almost the same position since he was a teenager, and she reveled in the familiarity of it. She knew that if she made a sound, he’d reach for her without opening his eyes and pull her in tight against him, making contented sounds she’d come to love. When she was alone at night she’d think of those noises and the feel of him spooning her.
She rolled onto her back and closed her eyes, conjuring up Bryce’s face. He was strikingly handsome, with hair a shade lighter than Jackson’s, mossy green eyes, and a lean, strong body. His laugh was infectious, deep and hearty. The kind of laugh that vibrated through her chest and made her laugh right along with him. She smiled at the thought, but as her mind drifted to last night, her smile faltered and her stomach knotted. Bryce knew that she and Jackson slept together. He’d never asked for specifics, but she’d been clear when they’d started dating. And when he’d asked her for a monogamous commitment a few months ago, she’d also been clear and said that she wasn’t ready for that—and she didn’t know if or when she woul
d be.
Why had he done it?
Why had he proposed? Was it to finally tie her down? And why couldn’t she just say no? Her eyes shifted to Jackson again. He was the man she wanted to have forever with—and he was the one man she knew wasn’t an option. Jackson didn’t do commitment. Sure, he’d been with her for all these years, but he’d also been with other women, and he’d made no bones about not being the monogamous type.
Just as she had.
She heard birds take flight from a nearby tree and mistook it for the sound of her heart breaking. Cawing sounded in the distance, and she slipped from the covers, still naked from the night before, and quietly grabbed her backpack. She didn’t want to wake Jackson, and the way her mind was churning was making her too antsy to sit still.
Outside the tent, she stretched and pulled on a T-shirt and shorts, then grabbed a blanket and cooking supplies and went down to the water. The lake rippled in the morning breeze, mixing with the sounds of leaves brushing and birds singing. The sounds out here in the mountains were gloriously different from and more soothing than the sounds of the city. Sometimes in the early-morning hours in the city, she would sit outside on her balcony and listen to the cars and the people rushing about, breathing in the rancid city smell, and she wondered why and how society let the city replace this much natural beauty.
She knew the answers, of course. Life needed to be lived, goals needed to be met, success needed to be had. She’d been on that money train for a long time, too, and knew she was in no place to judge others. But for a few days each year, she got to pretend she lived a more relaxed lifestyle.
Laney laid out the blanket, then set the bottle of eco-friendly shampoo by the water’s edge, stripped off her clothes, and dug a towel out of the backpack. She wrapped it around her body, and when she reached over to zip the compartment, she saw it.
The velvet box.
The looming proposal rushed back to her.
It hadn’t been far from her mind, but she’d been able to ignore it for a while, like a festering wound covered with a bandage. Only it wasn’t really a festering wound; it was a lovely proposal from a very nice man.
She sank down to the blanket with the velvet box and drew in a deep breath as she slowly opened it. The diamond glistened in the sun. It really was a beautiful ring, with a simple gold band and the enormous rock stunningly set. She took the ring from the box and twirled it in her fingers, catching the light on the perfect edges. She would have a nice life with Bryce. He was stable and caring and supportive. What else could a woman ask for?
He’d never stray, and there was some comfort in that.
He’d never have a wild side, either, and that made her heart ache a little.
She closed her fingers around the ring, holding it in her palm as she set the velvet box down beside her and gazed out at the water. Thinking about the things Jackson had said to her, she wondered why Bryce didn’t care if she was sleeping with Jackson all this time. Why hadn’t he asked for more specifics over their months together? She knew Jackson would never date a woman for any length of time without knowing her sexual habits and whether she was sleeping with other partners. Hell, she wouldn’t date a guy without knowing his sexual habits. Bryce had been proud of his monogamy. He’d told her from their second date that even if she wasn’t going to commit, he was.
He did.
She, however, had continued sleeping with Jackson.
She hadn’t even considered sleeping with anyone else. She opened her palm and stared down at the ring, thinking about her sexual habits. She and Jackson stepped over to the wild side, but she’d never done that with other guys. With Jackson everything was different. She couldn’t get enough of him, couldn’t share enough of herself. He allowed her to be as dirty or as sweet as she wanted. If she was pissed, they had hot, angry sex, and if she was feeling lonely, he cherished her body as if every inch of it deserved tenderness and love. He always knew just what she needed. Like last night. She needed to have him in a way that was only theirs. She’d never let any other man touch her there.
Bryce was a missionary lover. He was a strong, talented lover, but he had limits. Even when she went down on him, he never really relaxed, but that was okay, she reasoned, because not everyone could lose themselves in someone the way she and Jackson lost themselves in each other.
Relationships weren’t all about sex, though, and with Bryce, the other pieces of their lives fit together nicely. He was a professional stockbroker, and he fit in well with her colleagues. He was always appropriate, unlike Jackson, who sometimes reached for her thigh under the table when they were with friends, or would pick up two women for a ménage à trois when she wasn’t around. Her heart squeezed with that thought. She never liked to think about his sex life, but she knew it existed. He’d never tried to hide it from her, and as long as he practiced safe sex, she had no business even thinking about it.
Except now she couldn’t help thinking about it.
Jackson wasn’t the kind of guy who would ever settle down—that much she knew for sure. But still, as she slid the ring onto her finger and held it up to inspect the anomaly, part of her wished he’d been the one to present her with the ring, with a future.
With his love.
***
JACKSON STEPPED INTO his jeans and slid his feet into his boots. He hadn’t heard Laney leave the tent, but it was her absence that had woken him. When he’d rolled over and reached for her, he’d discovered that the bag with their cooking supplies was gone, as was her backpack. Laney liked to camp, but she also liked to be clean. He groggily lumbered through the woods toward the lake, where he was sure he’d find her bathed, dressed in clean clothes, and probably sunning herself on the rock again.
Even though the sun was shining, the woods smelled moist, like it might rain. Leaves and sticks crackled under his heavy boots as he neared the edge of the woods. Laney sat on the blanket wrapped in a towel, her hair still bone dry. She turned slightly toward the sun, and Jackson’s stomach sank when he saw the engagement ring on her finger. She lifted her chin, admiring the damn thing and probably thinking about Bryce and what a great life they’d have together.
He shifted his eyes away, clenching his jaw tight and fisting his hands by his sides. He had no business being angry, or being bothered at all for that matter. He didn’t want to switch places with Bryce. He wasn’t interested in walking down the aisle. But he didn’t want her to, either.
Jackson closed his eyes for a moment to regain control of his emotions. Then he strode determinedly out of the woods, keeping his eyes trained on the water, and washed his hands in the lake, his back to Laney.
“You brought that thing with you?” He hated that he snapped, but at the moment he had about as much control over his emotions as a rabid dog. He probably should have gone back to the campsite, but he wasn’t a wimp. He could deal with this. He heard her scrambling behind him, and the snap of the jewelry box resounded like a cannon in his ears.
“You knew I had it in the car,” she snapped back. “What was I going to do? Leave it there to get stolen?”
“Leaving it at home would have been a good start,” he grumbled, feeling exactly like the jerk he knew he was acting like.
“Well, I didn’t, so…”
He heard her walk toward him and sensed the heat of her standing behind him. She pressed her hand to the small of his back, and he closed his eyes, telling himself to calm the fuck down.
“Why are you so grouchy this morning?” As she moved to his side, her hand slid along his hip, then hooked in the waistband of his jeans.
Because I’m fucked up about your proposal.
When he didn’t answer, she picked up a washcloth and dunked it in the water, then soaped it up and began washing her legs. She was good at letting him stew. Usually it was something he admired about her, but at that moment his thoughts were clawing to be heard. But they weren’t clear and present—they were muffled and confusing—and before he could take the time to
weed through them, they spilled angrily from his lips.
“You should accept his proposal.”
“Why?”
Out of his peripheral vision, he watched her washing her gorgeous legs, the legs that his face had been buried between last night. The legs he knew by scent, by touch, by the gentle pressure she applied as she locked them around his waist when he was buried deep inside her.
Fuck.
“He’s a good guy. You should marry him.” He shifted his eyes away as she reached beneath the towel to wash the rest of her body.
“Really? I didn’t expect you to say that.” She was so matter-of-fact that it pissed him off even more.
“What the hell do you want, Laney? He’s a solid guy. He loves you. He’s offering you what every woman wants.” He crossed his arms, a barrier between his aching heart and the awful words spewing from his mouth.
“You really think I should consider it?” She sounded dumbfounded, but he wasn’t about to turn around and look.
One look at her right now, when his emotions were so raw and he felt so powerless, and he knew his resolve would crumble and he’d beg her not to accept the proposal.
“Yes.” He walked toward the fire pit they’d made yesterday.
“Fine. Maybe I’ll consider it.”
He spun around, shocked by the ease with which she’d caved. “What? You’re going to consider the very first proposal you get?”
Her jaw gaped and her eyes widened in a look of shock Jackson had rarely seen. “You told me to! I trust you!”
“Fine!” Fuck!
“Fine?” She was yelling now, stomping out of the water toward him with a dripping washcloth in one tightly fisted hand and a scowl on her gorgeous face. She poked him in the chest—hard.
“If you have something to say to me, just say it. Stop pussyfooting around.”
He ground his teeth together, unwilling to take her bait. It would do him no good to tell her that he didn’t want to lose what they had.
Jackson Page 5
