by Gage, Jessi
Fuck. He scrubbed a hand down his face. The thought of her feeling that much pain–not only from the cuts but enough emotional turmoil to make her want to do that to herself–made him want to throw up.
She framed his face with her hands, and he lost himself in the calm sea of her eyes. “Skin-deep pain beats soul-deep pain any day of the week,” she said. “At first it was just a way to feel something different than disgust for myself. But then it became kind of a penance. If I bled enough, I thought I’d somehow be able to forgive myself. Maybe even love myself again.”
He didn’t want to hear this. He jerked his face away, breaking the spell she had him under.
“You’re doing the same thing,” she said, bringing him back with a caress to his jaw.
“No, I’m not. It’s not the same thing.” He shot her a look the old insecure Camilla might have flinched from.
She smiled gently and pressed on. “You think you don’t deserve to feel good.”
“No. I just don’t want to hurt you.”
“Oh, yeah?” she said, and she closed a hand around the tip of his dick. He’d gone semi soft after seeing her scars, but the second she touched him, he surged to rock-hardness. “So if I sit right here, real careful, and just touch you like this, and promise not to bump my head or get hurt, you’ll let me jerk you off?”
She rubbed him roughly, and the combination of her words and her touch had him fighting not to fuck her hand.
He gripped her wrists, making her stop. “Don’t.”
“Because I might get hurt?”
Shit. She was right. No way would she get hurt giving him a hand job on his lap like this. But he still didn’t want it. He wanted to serve her in every way, but the thought of her serving him made him hate himself.
He didn’t deserve her. She should be with someone much kinder, much gentler than him, someone who had some frigging control over his temper.
Feeling that way might be fucked up, but it made sense in the same way it had to her all those years ago to take a blade to her skin. Maybe he was punishing himself.
As if she sensed him considering it, she touched the tiny scabs on his knuckles. Damn it. He’d punished himself then too. He’d bloodied himself pretty good that night. He’d never told her about it, but somehow, she knew.
She scooted off his lap and knelt on the floor between his legs. With a firm grasp on his shaft, she licked her lips and peered up at him out of heavy-lidded eyes. She looked like a cross between some innocent fairy princess and a schooled seductress. Even that helmet looked sexy, because it was on her. “Tell me to stop.”
No fucking way. Even if he could at this point, doing so would only hurt her. He’d pushed her away enough, no doubt straining her newfound confidence. What a shithead he’d been. No more. Time to make things right with her. It started with letting her do this for him, this beautiful thing he’d been fantasizing about for over a week.
She kissed the sensitive head of his prick, making his breath catch. She rubbed her lips over him.
He groaned, loud and long and with a release of so much tension, his head tilted back in relief. God damn, her lips felt hot and perfect on him. He wanted her tongue next. He wanted to feel the frigging back of her throat.
“Think we can do this without me getting hurt?” she said, each syllable caressing his sensitive head.
Shit, he was close to coming apart, and she hadn’t even taken him into her mouth yet. Incapable of speech, he nodded.
She smiled. Then he watched his dick disappear past those gorgeous lips.
Fucking heaven. “God, I love you,” he said.
She hummed around him, her eyes glittering, telling him she loved him too.
He cupped her neck with one hand, his thumb caressing her ear where the helmet left it exposed. He loved her thick, auburn hair, but she didn’t need it to be stunning. Bald and bruised, she was still perfect, still the most beautiful thing he’d seen since Haley had been born. Like his little girl, this woman would always be perfect to him.
Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked him like a frigging straw. So damn good.
He growled, forcing back the need to come. “Let’s go there together, sweetheart.” He pulled her up so she straddled him and lowered her onto the bed, careful of her head. His open jeans cut into his hips and ass. His shirt rode up when he came down on top of her and their stomachs brushed. He didn’t give a shit. Clothed or naked, it didn’t matter. He just needed to be in her. They’d do this again later, and he’d be slower, sweeter.
For now, he guided himself to her center–shit, she was hot and wet for him. He slid inside, and her body squeezed around him. Perfect. So damn perfect.
He kissed her as he moved slowly and deliberately, in and out. They breathed each other’s air, and they soared.
Pleasure wiped out the urge to punish, love erased guilt, and the promise of a bright future eclipsed the shadows of the past.
Other Lyrical Books by Jessi Gage
Wishing for a Highlander
About Jessi Gage
Jessi Gage has taught archery, cleaned ears, fed penguins, mucked stalls, sized shoes, scanned bones, run statistics, and arranged flowers. Her favorite job of all has been changing diapers, kissing boo boos, and jotting down a scene here and there between bouts of chaos. She lives with her family in Seattle and believes happily ever after comes from a thankful heart.
To learn more about Jessi and her works, visit her website http://jessigage.com/ and blog http://jessigage.wordpress.com/.
Road Rage
9781616504700
Copyright © 2013, Jessi Gage
Edited by Piper Denna
Book design by Lyrical Press, Inc.
Cover Art by Renee Rocco
First Lyrical Press, Inc. electronic publication: June, 2013
Lyrical Press, Incorporated
http://www.lyricalpress.com
eBooks are not transferable. All Rights Reserved. This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
PUBLISHER'S NOTE:
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.
Published in the United States of America by Lyrical Press, Incorporated
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Table of Contents
Cover Copy
Highlight
Road Rage
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Other Lyrical Books by Jessi Gage
About Jessi Gage
Copyright
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Gage, Jessi, Road Rage
