by Lori Foster
A sense of power filled her. She felt daring and sexy, and she wanted to push him the same way he’d pushed her. Turning her face until her mouth touched his, her voice a mere whisper, she asked, “Would you like my mouth on you even more?”
Time seemed to stand still. The air around them went static. And then Jude kissed her, grinding his mouth over hers, his tongue stroking deep, eating at her, possessing her.
She couldn’t continue to pleasure him; she could only hold on and weather the storm of excitement.
His hand curved over hers, making her squeeze him tighter still, stroke harder and faster. He started to groan, low and raw, and suddenly he pulled her hand away. Rasping with every breath, he put his mouth to her throat and sucked, marking her, then did the same to her shoulder, the tops of her breasts. With blatant hunger and loss of control, he kissed her everywhere, leaving her with the sense of being devoured.
His hand plunged under her shirt, shoving it roughly out of the way. He plumped up her breast, and then his mouth latched onto her nipple and he sucked hard, drawing on her, wringing a high-pitched cry of excitement from her.
His teeth nipped, tugged, and she couldn’t stay still. “Jude, now.”
“Not yet.” He growled out the words and switched to her other breast, making her wild.
“Now, damn it.”
Using both hands, he shoved her shirt up and over her face. While May struggled to get it off, he sucked and kissed a path down her belly. “Open your legs.”
Oh God, oh God. “I don’t know—”
He ripped away her panties, shocking her, ratcheting her sexual thrill up another notch.
Pressing his face against her, he inhaled. “You smell so good.”
Never, not in her most vivid dreams, had she imagined anything like this.
Jude lifted one of her legs over his shoulder and pushed the other out to her side. “I’ve thought about eating you so many times. For months. Ever since first meeting you. Now you’re here, and I’m going to get my fill of you until you come.”
A promise, or a threat?
And then his mouth was on her, hot and wet, and she pressed her head back, arching in acute pleasure. His tongue lapped over her, plunged into her, and curled around her clitoris. The feeling of his tongue and lips was indescribable, so soft and gentle, but wild and burning, too. His fingers moved on her, opening her more, and as he began to suckle, he pushed two fingers deep.
Sexual fulfillment had never been an easy thing for her, but now, she knew she’d climax. Already the pressure built, throbbing throughout her, drawing tighter and tighter. She couldn’t hold still, couldn’t stop her moans or harsh gasps. She squeezed her eyes shut tight, clenched her teeth, and an almost violent pleasure ripped through her. She gave a harsh, tearing groan—and didn’t care.
Jude stayed with her, and as the release began to fade, he gentled her, lightening his touch until he merely kissed her, soft and sweet.
“Beautiful,” he murmured.
May lay there, sprawled out, utterly limp and spent, a tiny bit embarrassed, but really, who cared?
As Jude climbed up to rest atop her, she breathed, “Wow,” and heard his triumphant chuckle.
“Wow, indeed.” He kissed her, startling her because of what he’d just done and where his mouth had just been. But then she decided she didn’t mind. Even that was sort of exciting. He licked her mouth and said, “You’re delicious.” Then he rolled to the side.
Her breathing yet ragged, she asked, “Where are you going?”
“Condom. You, lady, are about to get the ride of your life.”
“Oh, good,” she said, still with her eyes closed and her limbs spread out. Then she rethought that. “No, wait.”
“Can’t.” She heard the crinkling of the foil packet as he tore it open. “I need to get off. Now.”
May got one eye open but couldn’t see much, not in the dark and without her glasses. “But I wanted to kiss you, too.” She licked her lips, rejuvenated just from saying it. “You know. There.”
Jude muttered something she couldn’t make out. He hesitated, making her wonder what conclusions he drew, then he said, “I won’t be able to last.”
“So don’t. You already saw to me. I’m good. Better than good. And truthfully… I’m curious about how you taste, too.”
“Ah, fuck.” He sucked air like a drowning man.
“What’s wrong?”
“Just hearing you say it damn near sends me over the edge.”
May reached out and found his thigh. “Should I say pretty please?”
“Tease.” He scooted up, propping his back against the headboard, his big body taking up a lot of space. “Okay, then. Have at it.” He drew a deep breath, letting it out slowly, as if preparing himself. “But hurry or I’ll be a goner before you even get started.”
Encouraged, May asked, “Will I need my glasses?”
“No.” He gave a short laugh. “Just feel your way around.”
“Good idea.” She did just that, crawling over one of his thick thighs so that she rested between his legs. On her stomach, her head propped on her left fist, she carefully reached out until she touched him. “Tell me if I do anything wrong.”
“Yeah, sure.” His legs shifted. “Whatever you say.”
Very pleased with his reaction, she wrapped her fingers around him and leaned forward to brush him against her cheek. His scent was strong and masculine, and a new surge of sexual awareness unfurled in her belly. Oral sex would be nothing new for Jude, but that didn’t seem to matter. She couldn’t imagine a man more excited than he was right now.
Because she couldn’t wait, she moved her thumb over the head of his erection, spreading a silky drop of fluid. He jerked hard, his penis flexed in her hand, and May drew her tongue over him, licking that salty droplet away and earning a harsh groan for her efforts.
“You taste good, too,” she whispered, then closed her mouth over him. He was large enough that she wasn’t quite sure how to proceed, but she took the head all the way in, rolling her tongue over and around him while she stroked with her hand.
His fingers suddenly knotted in her hair, not hurting her, but grounding her, drawing her closer. “Take me in, May,” he begged. “As much of me as you can.” And his hips lifted so that he slowly penetrated.
She breathed through her nose, fast and hard because of her own flooding arousal, and opened her mouth wider.
“That’s it. God.” He stiffened, gasped. “May…”
She withdrew a little, pulled more of him in. Getting the hang of it, she began sliding her mouth over him, taking him in, out again, in deeper…
“That’s it.” A shudder went through him. His hands held her head, guiding her in the rhythm he preferred, urging her on, and in a gravelly plea, he said, “Suck on me.”
She did—and he went right over the edge. Only the fingers of his left hand remained tangled in her hair; his right hand clutched a fistful of the covers with incredible power. Hips rising from the bed, he strained against her and growled out an incredible release.
———
Jude wondered if he’d survive his association with the elusive and enchanting May Price. Every time he thought he had her figured out, every time he thought he had a handle on his feelings for her, she managed to throw him for another loop.
A blow job.
He grinned. Never had he expected such a thing from her.
But then, he hadn’t expected her to give him hell, either. Or to trust him so completely. Or to… care.
Did she? Given what he’d always known about her, he would have said yes. But now… she changed more than a damn chameleon, so he just wasn’t sure.
Curved against his side, warm and soft and very pleased with herself, she drifted off to sleep. Jude stared at the ceiling, wishing he’d carried her back to his bed. It was bigger and more comfortable, better suited to his size. And he liked the sound of his fountain.
But after that awesome release,
he’d sort of zoned out, his body buzzing, his thoughts adrift. The next thing he knew, she’d rearranged the displaced covers on the bed, kissed his forehead, and snuggled into his side.
She was so damn sweet. And exciting. And sexy.
He could trust her. He could count on her. He could probably… love her.
Disgusted with himself, Jude rolled his eyes and silently called himself an ass.
He already loved her, so now what he had to do was get her to admit how she felt. They then could figure out what to do about their future. Together.
With that thought gnawing away his peace of mind, he closed his eyes and concentrated on the feel of May beside him, right where she belonged. They’d have time to work things out.
One way or another, he’d claim her as his own.
Chapter 16
The house was dark and quiet. Too quiet. The ticking of the clock fractured Tim’s nerves, and he tried to meter his breathing to match it. Everyone else had gone to bed hours ago.
He could make the call now. No one would ever know, not his sister, not Denny. Not that pompous, self-righteous do-gooder Jude.
But he couldn’t. Not yet. Soon, he told himself. He’d get off the bed and call Elton Pascal soon.
A drink would help. The stocked bar wasn’t that far from his room. A few shots of liquid courage—that’s what he needed. The bed squeaked as Tim sat up, almost stopping his heart, making his skin go cold with goose bumps.
Jesus, he couldn’t go on like this. He wanted to sleep in his own bed without worrying about who might hear him move. He wanted to come and go as he pleased. He wanted to have some fun.
What other choice did he have except to call Pascal? If he didn’t do something, tomorrow May would force them to leave, and then he’d be vulnerable again. May didn’t understand because she wasn’t the one who’d gotten beaten and threatened. She wasn’t the one having to tiptoe around.
Denny and Jude didn’t understand because they had specialized training. Earlier, they’d shown him some live demonstrations, sparring with each other in easy camaraderie. For either of them, it’d be simple to disable a man. They knew moves that were quick and fluid, and unstoppable.
Tim wanted to learn.
But then he thought of Jude’s confidence, how easy the bastard made it look, and disdain burned in his gut. Sure Jude was good. And why not? He’d had everything handed to him. Looks, strength. One of the best trainers in the world now worked as his fucking lapdog, cooking, cleaning, playing doorman.
And Denny seemed to love it.
He bragged about Jude the way a father should—the way Tim’s father had never bragged about him.
Tim grunted. All he ever got was criticism. Sometimes sympathy. He got the stupid car dealership that he hated. He got slapped on the back, and he got expectations that were impossible to fulfill.
But pride? No, he had no idea how it’d feel to make someone like Denny proud.
Watching them while they sparred had been… exhilarating. They’d gone at it hard. They’d dripped sweat and strained, and watching them, Tim had wanted to join in.
But he didn’t dare.
He was afraid to take the chance.
Denny and Jude didn’t make excuses. If one of them made a mistake, they shook it off, cursed, and tried again.
If he tried, they’d laugh at him, and he knew it.
Not that Denny had laughed while instructing him, but that was different. Denny had a gruff way of insulting that almost sounded like a compliment. When he smacked Tim in the head, it hurt, but it didn’t feel mean. It didn’t reek of disappointment. He liked Denny well enough.
But Jude was another matter.
Mr. Perfect was probably off boning his traitorous sister right about now. And even though May knew the situation, she encouraged Jude. She didn’t really care about Tim. She just liked giving him hell, telling him all the ways that he fell short.
Fuck them both.
This time when Tim rose off the bed, his anger concealed the squeak of the mattress. He opened his door. Moonlight and the glow of outside security lamps came through every window, lighting the way. Wearing only his underwear, he crept across the floor, looking around every few seconds, just in case anyone showed up.
Sweat dampened his palms and the middle of his back by the time he leaned against the polished mahogany surface of the bar. The need for a drink had him breathing hard. He could already taste it, feel the burn as it slid down his throat and into his belly. He could almost smell it, too. His chest labored, and he licked his lips.
Sliding around behind the bar, he cautiously searched the shelves. And found nothing.
Where the hell was it?
A little sick, he searched some more, opening empty cabinets and drawers. It had to be here somewhere.
A light came on, blinding him, scaring him spitless.
“Not tonight, Tim. Get your ass back to bed.”
Shielding his eyes against the glare, Tim straightened, and there stood Denny, face expressionless, body relaxed.
“Why the hell aren’t you in bed? Are you spying on me?”
Shaking his head, Denny started toward him.
Jesus. Tim backed up and butted into the glass shelves, causing a clatter. He hadn’t meant to shout. Not at Denny, for crying out loud. But every nerve in his body now twitched in need. He’d counted on that drink.
Denny stopped in front of him. “Come out from behind there before you break something.”
Wary, Tim tried to decide if Denny hid his anger, or if he really was that controlled. He didn’t necessarily look mad. Annoyed, sure, but then he’d gone off to bed hours ago, and he couldn’t be happy about being awakened.
With an impatient wave of his hand, Denny said, “Come on. Quit cowering back there. I’m not going to kick your ass.”
Amazing how that relieved some of the tension.
“But,” Denny added, his tone sympathetic, “I’m not going to let you drink, either.”
“I was looking for a bottle of water,” Tim lied.
“No, son. You have a problem.” Denny scratched at his bristly chin, then yawned, as if they discussed nothing more important than the weather. “But I’m a problem solver, so the drinking is over.”
The drinking is over. Panic edged in around Tim. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“The booze is all gone. I got rid of it. Not a single drop in the entire house.”
Disbelieving, Tim laughed. No one would throw away good liquor. It had to be around somewhere, probably hidden. But when Denny didn’t join in the humor, Tim’s jaw dropped. “You’re shitting me?”
“Nope.”
Goddamnit. “This is May’s doing, isn’t it?” Too angry to be cautious, Tim pushed past Denny, intent on a tirade. “She put you up to it, didn’t she? She’s always playing high and mighty, the bitch—oof.”
A fist locking in his hair yanked Tim off balance. He fell onto his ass and found Denny leaning over him, keeping his head bent back, his position awkward.
His lips barely moving, Denny growled, “You won’t talk about any woman that way, especially not your sister. Do you understand me?”
Did everyone have to abuse him? Tim tried to jerk his head free and probably got a bald patch for his efforts. “Ouch, damn it, let go.”
“Tell me you understand, Tim.”
“Yeah, whatever.”
Denny released him. He stood there, arms crossed, posture imposing. He didn’t look disappointed so much as resigned. And determined. “Go on back to bed,” he finally said. “We’ll talk about this in the morning.”
“In the morning, May’s making us leave.”
“Maybe not. I’ve got my money on Jude.” Denny winked, as if the whole confrontation hadn’t happened. “Now get some rest. And don’t wake me up again, because next time, I will kick your ass.”
He walked off, his departure as silent as his approach. A second later, the lights went out, and Tim sat on the floor in the
dark.
Head down, hands fisted, he scrambled to his feet and stomped back into his room, closing and locking the door behind him.
“Bastard,” he fumed under his breath. Where did Denny get off lecturing him on his sister? He didn’t have to put up with May and her bossiness, or he’d understand. “Fuck them all.”
Denny had no right manhandling him. He could be arrested for assault. With his skills, he was practically a lethal weapon.
Pacing the room, Tim continued to smolder. It really burned him that Denny had accused him of having a problem. May told him that shit, he just knew it. Just because she was an uptight prude who didn’t have any friends and never…
Mind made up, Tim crossed the dim room to the chair where he’d left his pants. He felt around until he found his cell phone in a pocket. After he flipped it open, there was only a single moment of hesitation before he dialed information.
It took some effort, and he called a lot of hotels before finding one that could put him through to Elton Pascal’s room. Surely, there couldn’t be two men with that same odd name, not in a ritzy hotel. Not in Ohio.
This had to work.
It wasn’t that he wanted Jude hurt, Tim assured himself. He didn’t. Just because it’d give him some satisfaction to see Jude taken down a notch, that didn’t matter. Given a choice, he didn’t want anyone hurt. But he didn’t have choices. It wasn’t his fault that Jude had made enemies with a psycho. It wasn’t his fault that Jude pissed people off.
“Hello?”
The lurching of his heart into his throat kept Tim silent for too long, and Elton started to hang up after muttering, “Asshole.”
“Wait.” Tim cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I…”
“What is it? I don’t have all day.”
“Is this Elton Pascal?”
“Who the hell’s asking?”
The voice alone made him want to wet his pants. “This is Tim Price.”
“I don’t know any Tim Price,” he snapped. “You’ve got the wrong number.”
“No.” Damn it, spit it out. “I’m… um… I’m living in Jude Jamison’s house.”
Chilling expectation sizzled through the phone line. The tone turned silkier, less impatient. “And why the hell should I care about that?”
