by Eden Bradley
“Jesus, that’s good. Need to come. Fuck, I need to come. Need to fuck you harder. Yeah . . .” His cock jabbed into her, hard and deep, a few savage thrusts that had her gasping. “Ah, baby . . . my baby. Fuck, yeah!”
He roared as he came, his hands on her digging into her flesh. And she gave herself over to it—to Jamie and pleasure and pain. She felt so acutely his cock pulsing inside her ass. Felt him trembling. And even before he was done he was rubbing at her clit with the heel of his hand. Almost instantly her body shivered with heat, her climax slamming into her, a wall of sensation, lightning-hot ecstasy. His still-hard cock was buried deep in her ass as she came so hard she saw stars, the room going black. He kept working her clit, his cock moving inside her, milking her climax until she couldn’t take any more.
He bent over her, his breath heavy in her hair, the front of his body pressing against her spine so that she could feel every muscled plane of his torso, every contraction of his abs, every delightful shiver that went through him.
“Jesus Christ, sweetheart. I swear you are gonna kill me. But I’ve never felt anything like I do with you. Never.”
She smiled to herself, knowing she felt the same. She didn’t need to say it—couldn’t say anything right now, with her muscles and her brain turned to goo.
Jamie leaned his weight into her, pressing her body down onto the bed. Then he began to pull out of her very slowly, making her want to come some more. Or maybe just to never let him go.
Never let me go.
She sighed. Sank into the idea of never. Of forever. With Jamie.
She was too far gone for it to even make her blink. No, she’d blink later.
“Okay, pulling out now. Take a breath.”
She tried to do as he said, but she was absolutely limp. With coming. Maybe even more with submission itself. She was down deep in subspace. Full of sensation and endorphins and love. Too far gone to even want to really fight it.
Fuck.
But no—it was fine. She had always loved him. Always. Even when he made it hard to.
He pulled out of her, moving slowly, and it only hurt a little. Not enough to matter, except the pain always mattered in that it was what she wanted from him.
I am not making sense.
It didn’t matter. Nothing did except that they were there together and she was his. His.
“Come on, my sugar girl,” he said gently, his voice rough. “Let’s get us both into a nice, hot shower.”
He rolled her onto her back and took her hand, his fingers joining with hers and folding over them. When she simply lay there one corner of his mouth lifted and a dimple flickered in his cheek. “You gonna get up, sweetheart?”
“Mmm. Yes, Jamie.”
“Oh, you are totally out in space, aren’t you? God, it looks good on you, my sugar girl. To know I took you there. It’s a beautiful thing. Mm-mm, if I hadn’t just come twice in a row I’d have to fuck you again. But maybe after we’ve had that shower.”
She smiled and he bent down to pull the red blanket from beneath her and covered her with it. “You stay here until I get the water going. I’ll be back for you in a sec.”
She watched the perfection that was his ass as he walked away from her and disappeared into the bathroom. Idly playing with the soft edge of the blanket, she blinked, watching the reflection of the dark, rainy sky through the open shutter on one of the windows. The streetlamps made tiny prisms of the droplets slipping down the glass, each one a reflection of the amber light splintered into pink and green and blue. It must have been two or three in the morning and somehow light had found a way to make a rainbow, as if just for her.
She let out a small laugh. She really was high as a kite on those wonderful endorphins. And oxytocin and dopamine and whatever else was released in her brain during play and sex and being touched by Jamie.
“Okay, beautiful, up you go.”
Jamie lifted her, and her head was light, but she wanted to walk. She looped her arm around his waist and he kept his firmly around hers as they moved into the steamy bathroom, then into the shower stall.
She loved that he’d made it so big and luxurious when he remodeled the house. The dark-green slate was so him, somehow. He’d even built a small bench seat into it. A bamboo rack held shampoo and soap and a few other items. She took the warm air into her lungs, savoring the earthy scent of Jamie’s soap.
“Hold still, sugar,” he said. “I’m gonna wash you.”
Oh, she loved when he took care of her like this, the washcloth gliding over her skin as he carefully lathered every inch of her body. He kept his other hand at her waist or the small of her back, knowing she wasn’t entirely steady on her feet. How was it she flew so hard with so little pain play? But it was Jamie, and everything was different with him.
“You need your hair washed, sweetheart? Yes, you do.” He leaned in close and spoke softly into her ear, “I think you need to be thoroughly fucked and have your hair washed every day.”
She couldn’t quite take in what he was telling her, what he might be insinuating—she was too floaty still. All she knew was that she loved him saying these things to her, the husky tone of his voice.
He slipped a hand under her hair and behind her neck to hold her steady, and with the other he used the pressure point in the center of her breastbone to push her back under the water—just enough pain to direct her. She sighed in pure pleasure at the warm water gliding over her skin, at the little bit of pain, his command of her. The way he cared for her.
“No one has ever taken care of me the way you do, Jamie,” she said, the words a soft murmur that came out before she could stop them.
“No, that can’t be true. Your family at least . . .”
“Sure, when I was a kid. My parents. Brandon. But after he died, everyone who was left just sort of disappeared. We talked about that.”
“Yes.”
“So . . . since then I’ve been on my own, for the most part. You know, no one made me breakfast ever again. Not once. No more birthday pancakes with bananas and whipped cream. No Christmas trees or camping or any of the other million little things that made up our life. Our family.” She opened her eyes as he finished rinsing her hair and grasped his strong forearm, looking up at him. “I’m not sinking into self-pity, Jamie—really, I’m not. I’m just realizing how much I’ve missed this sort of thing. It’s the kind of stuff I haven’t risked looking at all these years.”
He stroked her wet hair from her face. His eyes were so green, but dark, like the slate tile in the shower. A little shadowed.
“Of course, sweetheart. How could you look at it, dwell on it, without it tearing you up? A lot of people would have done just that, but you stayed strong.”
She nodded. “But can I tell you a secret, Jamie? I’ve craved it the whole damn time. I had a little of it when I went over to Dennie’s house. Her grandmother, Annalee, has been so good to me all these years, but there was always the awareness that I didn’t quite belong to her, even though she made every effort to make me feel included. But some part of me always knew in the back of my mind that something was missing, because I used to know what it felt like to really belong.”
He searched her face for several long moments, but it didn’t make her afraid. She felt wide open to him and it felt good, as if at that moment she could tell him anything. There was no fear for once. She simply waited to see what he would ask her or tell her or do.
“And now, Summer Grace?”
She bit her lip, took what felt like a risk even in her current state of happy serenity. “And now I’m beginning to feel like maybe I belong somewhere again.”
He blinked hard but he didn’t pull away, didn’t let her go. His hand on the back of her neck flexed, then slid around to cup her face while his free hand moved up to hold her other cheek. Some time passed while he stared into her eyes, the warm wat
er falling, soothing her skin while her heart tried to hammer its way out of her chest—his gaze was that intense. Anticipation was that powerful.
“You do, sweetheart,” he said. “We can work everything else out, but know that you do. Know it. You belong to me.”
Her chest went tight, then was flooded with heat. With love.
Love him.
She could only nod and wait to be kissed.
He watched her face for another moment before he bent his head and pulled her up on her toes and crushed his mouth to hers.
His kiss was hungry, but it wasn’t sex. Or, it wasn’t all about sex, anyway—there would always be sex between them. The chemistry was far too hot. But there was as much emotion and stark honesty right now. She curled her body into his as she sought his warm, sleek tongue. As his strong arms held her tight. As the warm, lovely water fell in the shower and the rain fell in the New Orleans night outside.
* * *
JAMIE SLID ONTO a stool at Flynn McCool’s, the local pub he and Mick and all of Mick’s brothers had been going to since they’d each hit drinking age. He liked the casual atmosphere of the Irish pub, the long wooden bar, the old wide-plank floors, the vintage beer signs. It was a quiet place, where games of darts and pool took the place of the usual television blaring some sports game or another found in most other bars. They’d been coming for years, hanging out, playing some pool. It was also one of the places they went to confide in each other, male style.
He grinned as he nodded at the bartender, who knew him well enough to pass him a pint of Guinness, then automatically drew another from the tap when Mick came in and sat next to Jamie.
“Hey.”
“Hey, Mick.”
“Is this an emergency meeting or are we here to shoot the shit?”
Jamie shrugged. “I’m pretty sure you’ve talked to Allie, who I know damn well has talked to Summer Grace, so you tell me.”
Mick tossed a tip on the bar as the bartender slid his pint of ale to him. “I’m not hearing any complaints, and anything else she’s keeping to herself. I figure Summer is safe enough with you, you wicked bastard.”
“Hey, don’t go questioning my heritage,” Jamie warned, letting a little of the Scottish come through in his voice.
Mick gulped at his beer. “Your mother could have been seduced by a wayward mailman,” he countered. “Wait—do they have mailmen in Scotland?”
“Postmen. Same thing. But Mum would have gone for the milkman first. I hear he was a smart, dapper dude.”
“Hearing you say ‘dude’ with that accent is fucking with my brain.”
Jamie slapped him on the back. “Ha! Then my work here is done.”
“You’re awful damn cheerful.”
“And you, as usual, are not.”
“Fuck off, Jamie,” Mick said cheerfully.
Jamie clutched his chest. “You’re breaking my heart.”
Mick smacked at Jamie’s arm. “Whatever. Tell me what we’re doing here, lover boy.”
“You’re one to talk.”
“Damn right I am,” Mick muttered into his pint.
Jamie took a long swallow. “All right, all right. So, it’s been a little over a week since I dragged Summer Grace out of the cemetery—”
“Caveman style,” Mick interrupted.
“Yeah. So?”
Mick raised his glass. “So, nothing. Just marveling at your luck. Not everyone gets a second chance at fucking up so royally.”
“Thanks for the reminder.”
“I live to serve. How’s it been going?”
“Good. Really good.”
“Why do I have a feeling that’s the understatement of the year?”
Jamie shrugged. “Maybe because it is.”
“We’re about to get all mushy and shit, aren’t we?” Mick huffed.
“’Fraid so, buddy.”
“Okay. Let’s have it.”
Jamie sipped his beer, set his glass down on the old wood bar and stared into the brown liquid. “I don’t know, Mick. Things are pretty damn amazing between us. I feel like it shouldn’t be this good. This easy. I didn’t expect it to be.”
“Why not? Because you think you don’t deserve it?”
“No, of course not.”
“Bullshit.”
He shot a look at his friend. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“Forgive me for saying so—or hell, don’t forgive me—but in my opinion you don’t believe you deserve it. Happiness. Her. Maybe especially with her. I know some of the demons you’ve been fighting to even be with her, Jamie. Don’t forget how well I know you, or for how long. I was there, man. And I know exactly why you’ve kept your distance from Summer all these years. Frankly, I think it was a mistake. I think you could have been more of a comfort to her.”
“Well fuck me, Mick, don’t spare my feelings.”
“I don’t intend to. But did you come here to hear the truth or to have me blow smoke up your ass? Because if it’s the latter, you’ve come to the wrong guy. Which I think you know.”
Jamie blew out a breath. “Yeah, I do. I just hate that you’re right about this. About me having wasted all these years staying away from her. I feel guilty as hell.”
Mick shook his head. “That, my friend, is wasted time, which I know all too well. The thing to do is whatever you can today. You have to stop running from the past one of these days, bud. You have to live in the moment.”
“Wow.”
Mick raised one dark brow from over his pint glass. “What?”
“Words of wisdom from Mick Reid, ladies and gentlemen.”
“There has to be a first time for everything.”
“Seriously, Mick, you’re right. I know you are. And I’ve been trying. But it seems like the past keeps cropping up for both of us.”
“Sure, everyone’s got their baggage. But what’s happening with you two right now?”
“Things are great. The sex is fucking off the hook—and it feels weird as hell saying that to you about Summer Grace.”
“Nah. Don’t even sweat it. What else?”
Jamie had to sip his Guinness to cool off. “She’s taken to kink like someone who’s been thinking about it her whole life—like she was born to it.”
“I kinda think she was.”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
“Maybe hell yes! Allie has said the same about her—that she dove in headfirst and never looked back. That the stuff she asked for in her first scene made Allie nervous. Not that Maîtresse Renee agreed to give her everything in that first session, but apparently the girl has no fear.”
“She has her limits, but nothing really scares her.”
“Summer’s never been afraid of much—that’s her nature. It doesn’t surprise me that kink doesn’t intimidate her. Good thing, too, given how you play.”
Jamie was quiet for a minute or two, thinking. It was true that his Summer Grace was brave, in so many ways. And when had he started to think of her as his? He wasn’t sure when it had happened, but she was his, as he’d told her the other night. And just as true was the fact that not seeing her the last few nights because she’d had to work late stocking the store was driving him crazy. It had only been three nights without her and he felt like his skin was too tight for his body. Like he couldn’t hold still. Which was why he’d asked Mick to meet him tonight. He had to see her. And he really wanted to play her at the club.
“Hey, are you and Allie going to The Bastille tomorrow night?”
“Maybe. I haven’t talked to her about it yet. There’s the usual Friday night demo, isn’t there? What is it this week?”
“The schedule said Master Lucan is doing his talk on mentoring newcomers early in the evening, but that’s not why I’m asking. Will it be weird to see me play Summer Grace there?”
Mick shrugged. “Allie saw Renee play her. We’ve both seen you play plenty of other women.”
“This will be different.”
“I’d assume so. Will it make you uncomfortable to have us there? Because if so, we’ll hang out at home. I have a full toy bag and a few heavy-duty eyebolts set into the ceiling—that’s never a problem.” Mick flashed a wicked grin.
“Yeah, maybe. I might need to work my way up to getting used to you and Allie seeing us together. Hell, we haven’t even been out to dinner with anyone else.”
“It’s only been a few weeks, hasn’t it?”
“Yeah. But it’s Summer Grace, not some girl I just met. Maybe it’s been two weeks that we’ve been seeing each other, but it’s also been most of our lives. I know her. We’re just learning about each other as adults, but we have so much history. All that stuff you learn when you’re first dating a woman—about her family, what she likes to eat, her taste in music—that stuff I already know. We don’t have to waste any time on the background details. You know what I mean?”
Mick grinned again. “It was like that with me and Allie. Kinda fast-tracked things because we’d known each other forever.”
“Yeah. Sort of. I don’t know how fast we’re moving.”
“Don’t kid yourself, buddy.”
“What do you mean?”
“If I can see it, dense as I am, then the whole fucking world can see it.”
“See what?”
“That you’re in love with her.”
Jamie bit his lip, took a sip of his ale, then another before setting his glass down very carefully. Keeping his eyes on the drops of moisture clinging to the glass, he said quietly, while his chest sort of exploded with an aching warmth, “Yeah. I guess I am.”
Mick let out a snort. “It’s more than a guess. And I’m not above shoving your face in it, considering the shit you gave me over Allie. Wake up, Jamie. Do something about it. Don’t fuck it up.”
“I’m trying really Goddamn hard not to.”
Mick slapped him on the back. “Good man. Now how about you let me beat you at pool?”
CHAPTER
Eight
