Wanted

by J. Kenner

  I opened my mouth and drew him in. Just the tip at first, because I wanted to make him desperate. Hell, I wanted to make him beg. Then I went deeper, relishing the way his body tightened and letting his groans of pleasure wash over me. I've never felt particularly skilled where giving head is concerned, but right then I felt powerful. Hell, I felt perfect.

  "Lina," he groaned. "Shit, Lina, you feel fucking amazing."

  He was so damn close--but I had other plans for that gorgeous cock, and I slowly withdrew my mouth, then eased my body up. Now, I did more than just straddle a thigh. Instead, I straddled his hips, and in slow, careful moves designed to drive us both crazy, I let the tip of his cock stroke my slick cunt.

  I was so damn ready, and this was torturing me as much as it was him. But as I moved--as I denied myself the pleasure of slamming my body down hard and impaling myself on him, of having him fill me in one glorious, deep thrust--I understood how he had survived so far without actually fucking me. Because this anticipation was just as exciting as the act itself, and if I were a stronger person I could have teased him forever, and with the greatest of pleasure.

  But I wasn't that strong.

  What had Cole called it? Evan's capacity for self-deprivation? Well, I didn't have it. I wanted him. Needed him. Had to have him right then, because my senses were on overload and the only thing that could keep me from imploding was the feel of this man inside me.

  Fuck it. I couldn't wait another second, and I thrust downward, crying out as my body stretched wide to accommodate him. I rose up, then slammed down again, leaning back so I could hold on to his legs even as he reached up and grasped my hips, forcing me to go deeper, harder, faster.

  He was close. I could tell by the way that tension was building in his body as we moved together, and I arched back, moaning with pleasure at the way he filled me--and then squealing in surprise and delight as he grabbed me tight and rolled us over, tumbling me onto my back with our bodies still joined.

  "Evan!"

  His kiss was hard and demanding and very effectively shut me up. "You didn't wait for me to get a condom."

  "I'm on the pill," I said. "And I assumed you were clean."

  "I am," he said.

  "So that's why you stopped?"

  He laughed. "Baby, I'm still inside you. Is that stopping?"

  "No, but--"

  He pressed his finger over my lips. "I seem to recall mentioning to you that I like being in control."

  "Oh. Right. You might have said that," I admitted, squirming beneath him. "I think you liked letting me take over for a while, too."

  "Careful. That's the kind of thing a woman can get punished for."

  "Is that so?" I asked playfully.

  "Hell, yes," he said, returning my smile with one of his own, and then staying perfectly still.

  He was still hard inside me, and yet he wasn't moving. I groaned in protest and tried to shift my hips in silent demand. But I couldn't do much; he'd trapped me good and tight.

  I was beginning to understand what he meant by "punishment."

  He grinned knowingly. "Frustrated, Lina?"

  "Even if I were, I wouldn't admit it."

  He laughed outright, and the sound delighted me. "How do you do that?" I asked.

  "How do I do this?" he asked, moving slowly inside me.

  "Oh, thank god. Finally," I said, arching up to silently urge him to thrust deeper. "But what I meant was, how do you send this melange of emotions coursing through me?" I had to concentrate on getting the words out. "You take me to the edge, you make me feel like I'm the manifestation of sensual pleasure. And then you turn it on its head and make me laugh out loud." I paused for just a heartbeat. "I don't remember ever having so much fun in bed."

  He slid up my body and kissed me gently. "Me either. Of course," he added, his tone sharpening a bit as he traced his fingertip over my naked breasts. "As I believe we've already established, we've barely scratched the surface of what I can make you feel." As he spoke, he rubbed his thumb and forefinger over my nipple, the friction making the nub even tighter. He squeezed his fingers tighter, intensifying the pleasure--and the pain.

  "Oh, really?" I concentrated on his fingers, on that pinching sensation that hurt a little, but at the same time felt remarkably wow, as if everything I wanted to feel had been captured and held there for me to experience. I remembered his words in the alley--the way he'd wanted to pinch my nipples. To spank my ass.

  I felt the muscles of my sex clench around him, already anticipating the new onslaught of sensations to come.

  From the way he smiled at me, I could tell he'd felt my body's response--and understood exactly what it meant.

  "My Lina wants something," he said.

  I licked my lips and turned my head slightly so that I wasn't looking at him dead-on. "I was just thinking about what you said. About how taking control was the kind of thing you might punish me for."

  "Were you? That's an interesting direction for your thoughts. Would you like to elaborate? Maybe be more specific?"

  I slanted my eyes at him. "You made me promises."

  "Did I? You may have to refresh my memory."

  He released my nipple, then trailed his finger down, lower and lower to where our bodies were joined. He moved inside me languidly, and as he did, he slipped his finger over my clit, making me bite down on my lower lip as my breath came in painful, wonderful jolts.

  He took his finger away, stopped his thrusting, and looked down at me, his expression smug.

  "Bastard," I muttered.

  "What do you want, Lina?"

  "I want--I mean, I've never been--oh, fuck it. I want you to spank me."

  "Why?"

  "Because I've been naughty," I murmured, because I was certain that's what he expected me to say. "Because I need to be punished," I added, turning my head away because I knew it was true.

  "Good girl," he said as he began to slowly move inside of me. I felt the pressure building and closed my eyes, wanting to get lost on the cresting waves. "No. Look at me."

  Reluctantly, I opened my eyes.

  "It was a good answer, but it wasn't the right one." He kept up the motion, that delicious friction building with such slow intensity that it took all of my effort to focus on his words. "I don't know what you think you've done, but it's not important. Because it's not about punishment, at least not with me. The control, the bondage, the spanking, even the pain--it's all a road, Lina. A road that leads to pleasure. It's acceleration before flight. The priming of the pump. The buildup to climax."

  He traced his fingertip over my nipple, then over my lips, then gently slid inside my mouth as I sucked, the digit mimicking the thrusts of his cock.

  "Call it whatever the hell you want," he continued. "But I promise you that pleasure is the goal. I'm not interested in hurting you. I'm not interested in punishing you. I'm only interested in pleasing you."

  He slid his finger out of my mouth, and I took that as permission to speak. "You do," I whispered.

  "It's going to be rough, baby, but I promise it will feel good. But I can't have you any other way. Not after wanting you for so damn long. And not now that I know you're going away. I need to know that you've surrendered to me."

  "I have. I will." Hell, right then I'd do or say anything just to feel him moving inside me some more.

  He didn't, though. Instead, he slid out of me, and I actually whimpered with disappointment.

  He laughed, then held out his hands for me, helping me up until I was kneeling on the bed in front of him. "I want to know that until the day you leave this city, I have claimed you for my own. Now tell me that you want it, too."

  "I do," I said. "I want it."

  He slid off the bed and stood facing me. Then he made a circular motion with his finger. "Turn around. Bend over. Palms flat on the bed."

  I opened my mouth to ask why, realized that was an idiotic question, and complied. I heard his low intake of breath, then his soft, "Oh, baby." And then I
felt the sharp sting of his palm against my rear, followed by the pressure of his palm rubbing away the prickles of heat that had bloomed from the contact. "Say it like you mean it," he said, and now there was nothing soft about his voice.

  "I want it," I repeated, then squeezed my eyes closed as another spank caught me across the ass. His blows were hard, and though they stung--though I'd even go so far as to say they hurt--I understood what he meant about the pleasure. My breasts felt heavy, my nipples tight, my sex tingling and wet. I wanted more--hell, I wanted everything.

  He rubbed my ass in firm, slow circles as he leaned in close. "What do you want, Lina? Do you want me to stop? Or do you want me to keep going?"

  "Keep going," I said, close to whimpering just from the thought that he might stop. "Please, do it."

  He answered with another sharp smack. "Tell me again what it is you want?"

  "I want you to spank me." I want you to fuck me.

  "Tell me what you want." Another spank. I flinched, spreading my legs just a little. My ass was on fire, and oh, dear god, so was the rest of me. I wanted him inside me, and I was very quickly reaching the point where begging would be involved. "Tell me," he repeated, his words followed by another spank.

  "You. I want you, Evan. I've always wanted you." I squeezed my eyes shut, afraid I'd revealed too much. But Evan just moaned in satisfaction, as if my words had been as sweet to him now as my mouth on his cock had been earlier.

  "I have to have you now, Lina. I can't last another second of not being inside you."

  I tried to say yes, but it wasn't necessary. I tried to turn over, but he wouldn't let me. His hands were on my hips, and he tugged me back so that my knees were closer to the edge of the bed. I felt his cock rub against me, sliding against my desire-slick sex. I spread my legs in silent need, arching up in both invitation and demand. In another moment I would have found my voice and begged, but I didn't have to, because he used his grip on my hips to pull me toward him even as he thrust forward.

  He entered me in one long, deep stroke, and I cried out from the combination of pleasure and pain. He was ripping me apart with every thrust, shattering me, breaking me. He was utterly destroying me, and yet nothing had ever felt so perfect as the sensation of this man inside me. With each thrust he took me higher. With each soft moan he brought us closer.

  He leaned over me, his hips moving in a steady rhythm. I worked in tandem with him, and when our bodies were in sync, he released my hips. At first I mourned the loss of contact. Then I realized that he'd reached underneath us, one hand going to stroke my clit and the other clutching tight to my breast as he slammed into me over and over and deeper and deeper until I finally spiraled off into the heavens with Evan holding on tight.

  I was still soaring, my vision barely returning, when his orgasm rocked us both. He exploded inside me, holding me tight as he released himself into me.

  "Evan." I said his name like a prayer.

  He held me like that for a moment, his body draped over mine, one arm around me and the other keeping him balanced over me. I felt him grow soft inside me and I felt the gentle kisses he trailed down my spine.

  "Lina," he murmured, but the sound was so soft I wasn't entirely sure that he'd meant for me to hear it.

  Finally, he pulled out, then gathered me into his arms as if I weighed no more than a kitten. Then he brushed a kiss over my lips.

  I was sleepy now, completely drained, and I clung to him as he took me into the bathroom and cleaned us both up. Then he carried me back to the bed, got in beside me, and pulled me close.

  I closed my eyes, and his soft, "You're wonderful," was the last thing I heard before I slipped over to sleep.

  fifteen

  "I don't have nightmares when you're with me," I whispered, as I woke in Evan's arms to the soft pre-dawn glow filling the sky outside the windows.

  "I'm glad." He stretched, coming easily awake. His fingers stroked my hair. "I don't like that you've ever had them at all. I wish I could erase them. They're not real, you know. They're survival guilt, baby. I get that you miss your sister, and I understand that the way she was taken from you was damned horrific, but you don't have to feel guilty for being alive."

  "I don't," I said, my voice hoarse. "Not because I'm alive." I sucked in air. "It's because she shouldn't have even been out of the house that night."

  I spoke in a whisper, my voice so low I wasn't actually certain I was making sound. I'd never told this to anyone but Jahn. And though part of me screamed that I needed to keep this to myself--that I shouldn't build bridges when I was just going to burn them in three weeks--the truth was that I felt safe and warm with Evan. And, more important, I knew that he was strong enough to hold whatever load I piled onto him.

  "I'd been sneaking out a lot," I continued. "Meeting friends to get drunk and smoke cigarettes and do idiot shit, you know? And Grace had been covering for me even while she tried to get me to stop. But I didn't. She was always so perfect. The brilliant and beautiful oldest daughter, and I was such a fuckup, and I told her she needed to mind her own business."

  "But that night she followed you?"

  "And that was the night they took her." My voice broke on a sob. "I didn't see it. I didn't even know she'd followed me until the next morning when she wasn't in her room and then they found her body and no one could understand why she'd snuck out of the house. Except for me. I understood." I met his eyes, sure that mine were filled with guilt and shame. "I never told anyone."

  "It wouldn't have made a difference." He stroked my hair. "It's not your fault," he said softly. "The universe is a fucked up bitch, and she doesn't play by the rules."

  "I stopped, you know. That very day I stopped sneaking out and acting wild and cutting loose. I turned myself completely around."

  "Did you?" he asked. "Yourself? Or your behavior?"

  I didn't answer, but he was dead on the money, and I think he knew it. Nothing inside me had really changed. I'd just locked it up tight.

  He sat up, then pulled me onto his lap. I leaned in close to him and sighed. I didn't like playing true confessions, but at the same time it felt good to have shared my secrets. Or, rather, it felt good to share them with Evan.

  "I'm an absolute wreck you know," I said. "I think you must be a saint for putting up with me."

  His low chuckle thrummed through my chest. "Hardly. And you're not a wreck."

  "Oh, I am." I sighed and closed my eyes. "You say you've wanted me for so long, but I don't think you're seeing the person you think you're seeing."

  "No? You told me before that I see you."

  "Wishful thinking, maybe," I said.

  "No." The word was strong and simple and held a world of understanding. "You were right. I see you. I do. I see what you are."

  "What am I?" I asked, hating how small and insecure my voice sounded, but I had to know. Had to hear.

  "Beautiful, vibrant, smart. You're selfless. You're empathetic. And though you may not always be correct, you always do what you think is right. And," he added with a mischievous grin. "It turns out that you're quite talented in bed."

  At that, I laughed out loud.

  "I see you," he repeated. "I see the core of you, Lina. The heart. And I damn sure hope that's what you see in me, too, because my top coat may be shiny and bright, but underneath that you're going to find a lot of tarnish."

  "And beneath the tarnish?"

  "Much shinier," he said. "But very hard to get to. Except for Tyler and Cole, Jahn is probably the only one who ever has."

  I sat up straight so that I could see his face better. "That's sad," I said, but even as I spoke, I realized that his words could apply to me, too. How many people had I truly let in? Honestly, except for Jahn, I could think of none. Not even Kat. Not even Flynn.

  "What about your mom and your sister?"

  He nodded slowly. "Yes. To a degree. But they're not around. They moved away years ago. I hardly ever see them anymore."

  "I'm sorry." I regrett
ed bringing it up. I remembered now that the various articles I'd read had talked about the fact that he'd worked his ass off to move them out of Chicago so they could make a better life elsewhere. He'd remained behind, running the businesses that had earned the money to finance their move.

  "It must have been hard," I said. "Growing up the way you did. Your father's death, and then having to shoulder so much when you were so young."

  His smile was humorless. "Just how many articles have you read about me?"

  I shrugged. "All of them, I think."

  As I'd hoped, he laughed.

  "Fiction writers aren't the only ones who spin stories, Lina," he said.

  "It's not true? The way you took care of your mom and your sister?"

  His expression was both harsh and wistful. "I did--and will always do--whatever is in my power to protect my family. I will take any risk, I will make any sacrifice, I will do whatever it takes to turn the odds to my favor. And I will never regret a single choice I made where those two women are concerned."

  The passion in his words reverberated through me, and I couldn't help but picture a young Evan carrying such a huge burden. That he'd not only survived but thrived--was just one more bit of proof that this man was exceptional.

  "The universe is fucked up," I whispered, remembering the words he'd spoken to me--and wondering what risks he'd taken, what sacrifices he'd made, and how, exactly, he'd shifted the odds in his favor.

  "Yes," he said harshly. "It is." He met my eyes. "Don't ever be naive, Lina. Whatever you've read--whatever you think you know--keep in mind that the press coverage about me doesn't even come close to the truth."

  I frowned, knowing this was an opportunity. I'd told him about Gracie; if I asked, he just might tell me the truth. About what happened after his father died. About all those secrets Jahn had mentioned. About all the things that Kevin had hinted at.

  And yet I didn't ask. I didn't say one single word.

  I'm not entirely sure why I held back. All I knew was that the sexy, dark, dangerous man I'd fantasized about was finally in my bed, and would be for the next three weeks. Did I want to risk that high by bringing reality into the mix?

  I didn't, and so I stayed silent, gently stroking my hand over his. His knuckles had healed quite a bit, but they were still red, the skin obviously tender. "There was trouble with one of the women who works at Destiny," he said, though I hadn't even lifted a brow in question. "I had a little chat with the man causing the trouble. Now there's no more trouble."