Her pulse thundered in her veins and her nipples tightened, not to mention the state of her panties.
His stubble rasped over her cheek as he pulled her head farther back, exposing the column of her throat. He supported her weight with his other hand under her back and bent over her, lavishing her throat and shoulder with kisses and little nips of his teeth. Slowly, he lowered her to the hard surface.
Jacob stared down at her and she glimpsed some of the wildness in his gaze, but she was fluent in wild and crazy. It was his lucky fucking day.
He grabbed the neck of her tank top and pulled, and the fabric came apart as if it were tissue paper, ripping straight down the front. She gaped at him, but he was already pulling her bra down, freeing her breasts and palming her.
Okay, that was hot. She’d never had her clothes literally ripped off her before.
He massaged her breasts, capturing the stiff peaks between his fingers and rolling them. She hissed and arched her back, hooking her other leg around him. He pushed her breasts together and licked one nipple, then the other. She groaned and threaded her fingers through his hair, giving it a little tug. He growled against her skin and scraped his teeth over her sensitive flesh as he switched breasts.
“Oh, fuck, do that,” she muttered. Teeth and boobs—who would have known that felt good?
He bit down harder, and her internal muscles clenched.
“Mm, yeah.” She scraped her nails over his shoulders, arching her back.
The man had a talented mouth, that was for sure.
She reached between them and palmed the front of his jeans. His whole body went rigid, and for a moment he didn’t move. She could feel his breath against her breasts, but he didn’t move, so she pressed harder.
He grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the table once more, surging up over her body to press her flat and kissing her so deeply she could barely breathe.
“I want to be in you,” he said in a ragged whisper.
Jacob released one of her wrists, but she still felt the implied command in her bones.
Don’t move.
His fingers dragged over her ribs, down her hips, and between her legs. He panted against her lips as he pushed her panties aside and plunged a finger into her channel.
“Christ,” he groaned.
“Mm. Condom?”
“Fuck,” he snarled.
Emma groped for her purse, which had been shoved down the table. She grabbed the strap and pulled it closer, fishing out a condom from the side pocket. People could call her a slut if they wanted to for carrying her own protection, but she was a woman with needs that were about to be met.
Jacob chuckled and kissed her cheek as she ripped the package open. “You are an angel.”
“No, I’m just horny.”
She tabbed his jeans open and lowered the zipper, careful of the erection straining toward her.
“Are you going to put it on me?” he asked.
“Do you have a problem with that?”
He flashed her a too-brief smile. “No.”
He shoved his jeans and underwear down, kicking out of his clothes until he was gloriously nude. The glimpses she got of his body proved that he was a man of action, with the scars to back up what he did. Another time she’d ask him about them, kiss each one.
Jacob grabbed her skirt and panties and tugged them down. She lifted up enough for him to divest her of the hindering garments and shrugged off the ruined top and bra herself. She grabbed the condom and reached for him. He braced himself with his hands on either side of her thighs.
It was happening too fast for her to be nervous. There was a deep, driving need pushing her, urging her on.
She grasped his cock, pumping the smooth, velvety flesh in her palm.
Jacob grabbed her chin and kissed her, thrusting into her hold. He broke the kiss, leaving her gasping.
Emma lost no time in rolling the latex on his hard length. She’d enjoy this.
He pushed her hands away and passed the head of his cock through her folds, coating himself with her arousal. She planted her hands on the table and let her head drop back on her shoulders, surrendering herself to the sensations. Her body trembled—it had been too long since she felt a man’s touch, even longer still since she’d enjoyed it.
“Emma,” he whispered.
She lifted her head and met his gaze, staring into the black pits. It felt as if she could see straight through to his soul, that tortured, battered beast inside of him that he thought needed to be contained, controlled. It looked an awful lot like her own inner darkness.
Jacob grasped her hips and thrust. They each gasped as he slid inside of her. He pressed deeper, and she gripped the edge of the table as her body stretched and adjusted around his girth.
Fuck, he felt good.
He dug his hand back into her hair and kissed her as if his next breath depended on the connection. He withdrew and thrust, sending little shivers of pleasure up her spine.
So good.
He laid her out on the table, bending over her, lavishing her mouth with kisses. Her lips were swollen and sore from his teeth, but fuck if she cared.
She locked her ankles around his waist and slipped her arms under his, where she had free rein of his back with her nails. Each scrape over his skin seemed to fray his precious control a bit more, so she laid into him, digging her nails in and creating long tracks.
He braced himself on his forearms and shoved deep, driving the breath from her lungs as sparks went off behind her eyelids. He growled something she couldn’t understand and grasped her thigh, pushing her open wider.
Jacob’s gaze had gone nearly black—there was the tiniest bit of blue around his iris. It was as if she could stare into the darkness he carried inside.
He reared up, holding her thighs spread, and pistoned in and out of her. He tilted her pelvis so each thrust stimulated her clit, but she could feel him everywhere. On her skin, the tender places on her breasts and neck, her mouth, in her pussy—and inside of her where their darkness merged as their souls twined together.
Her body shuddered as desire coiled tighter and tighter within her. She grasped his forearms, digging her nails in, spine arching.
“Come on,” he muttered.
The table groaned as it inched across the floor.
He shook off her hold and placed his hand above her mound, flicking her clit with his thumb.
“Oh, God,” she moaned. “Jacob. Don’t stop. Harder, okay?”
She felt the tremor through his muscles at her words, but he didn’t hesitate giving her what she asked for. One hard thrust after another. Her vision hazed and the muscles around her ribs constricted, making it difficult to breathe.
“Fuck,” Jacob roared.
He pulled out of her and she whimpered at the loss of him. He flipped her over until she was face down on the table with her toes barely touching the floor. He gave her no warning before thrusting deep once more. His hands grasped her hips so tight she thought she might have individual bruises from his fingers tomorrow. Her very own tangible reminders this wasn’t another fantasy too good to be real.
He drove into her, pounding her harder than before. She clung to the table, barely able to move with him for how tight he held her.
He placed one hand on the back of her neck, applying the barest pressure. It was a possessive hold.
“Oh, Jacob.” She squeezed her eyes shut—so close.
His nails gently scored her skin. He dug the other hand into her hair and tugged, ever so slightly, but it was enough.
The tight spring coiled within her released. Her orgasm shot her up over the moon. She squealed and grasped the table tight, kicking one of her legs as Jacob continued his sensual assault and fucked her through the orgasm.
She was vaguely aware of his groan of release. He came forward, draping his body over hers and nuzzling her cheek. She relaxed, exhaustion and tension leaving her utterly spent, not to mention the sheer pleasure of it all.
&
nbsp; Had she ever been fucked like that?
Hell no.
For several long moments they didn’t move, not that she was capable of doing more than laying there, between the boneless quality of her limbs and Jacob’s weight holding her in place.
He moved before she’d quite recovered, pulling out and running his hands over her. She arched into his touch as he traced lines on her back.
Jacob picked her up and carried her to the couch, where he settled her with a light afghan while he cleaned up.
He’d been intense, but he’d never intentionally hurt her. It was something she knew.
When he joined her on the sofa once more, the openness was gone from his gaze and his defenses were back up. She missed that connection, felt the ache in her chest.
Well, Emma wasn’t having any of that. She crawled across the sofa to him and pushed him back against the armrest, draping the blanket over both of them. He needed rough sex, well, she had her own needs, too.
“I have a secret,” she whispered. He’d turned off most of the lights, leaving them in the gentle glow of a lamp.
“And that is?” His fingers drew lazy swirls on her shoulder.
“I like to cuddle. Don’t tell anyone, okay?”
He snorted and kissed the top of her head. Well at least he could be humored.
“Was that—okay?” he asked after several moments.
“Better than okay, though you owe me a new shirt now.”
“I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Why not? It was damn hot. I’m glad it wasn’t a shirt I liked though.”
“But I wasn’t too rough?”
She sat up, taking his face in both of her hands. “Detective, I’m considering kidnapping you just to keep you in a creepy basement somewhere so you can do that to me every day.”
He snorted. “Is that a threat?”
“Only if you feel threatened.”
She pulled him back, bringing him up over her so he lay on top of her, blanketing her body with his. He smiled then, the first true smile she’d seen from him that reached his eyes and deep inside him, and her heart broke a little.
That’s right, she wasn’t good at one-night stands because her heart loved too freely, and Detective Jacob Payton, with his demons and barefoot cooking, was easy to care for.
4.
E
mma tiptoed down the hallway, her clothes clutched to her chest and Jacob’s phone clenched in her hand.
She shouldn’t do this.
It was wrong.
Totally and completely wrong.
But she couldn’t help herself.
That was a lie. She didn’t want to stop herself. She wanted to see things for herself.
She dressed hurriedly in the den, tying her butchered tank-top into some semblance of a shirt and put it on backwards. Vent holes were a trend now, right?
Her body was deliciously sore—everywhere. Jacob hadn’t been too rough, but with the controlled force and the power of his grip, she could completely understand how he would have scared a gentler woman.
She peered through the open archway and strained to hear any movement, any sign Jacob had sensed her leaving his bed.
Nothing—silence reigned supreme.
Guilt ate at her, but this was how it had to be. She couldn’t allow herself to fall for Jacob. That was a world of hurt waiting to happen.
She tapped the power button on his phone and the screen lit up. What were the chances it wasn’t password protected? She swiped the unlock button across the bottom, and a page full of apps flickered to life.
Holy shit, the man really needed to password protect his stuff.
She stuffed her guilt deep down and clicked his texts first. It only took three tries before she found a text trail with an address. It would have been sent that morning. What were the chances this was the location of the copycat’s kill site?
For some reason, she couldn’t shake the idea of needing to see it for herself. It was a wholly irrational drive, but she felt it in her bones. If she saw the site of the murder, she’d know it was a copycat. Wouldn’t she? Who knew TBK better than her?
She forwarded the text to her cell then erased the evidence on his phone before placing it in the kitchen. He could realize her deception, which sucked, but it wasn’t like they had something that was going to last. He might want her body, and they might have stuff to talk about with the murder investigation going on, but there wasn’t much beyond that which connected them. It was better she got out now before she got hurt. A serial monogamist like her didn’t do casual well.
The temperature outside had only dropped a few degrees. Moonlight bathed the street well enough she didn’t need a light to pick her way down the stairs or across the yard, though her feet were coated in dew by the time she reached her truck.
Should she go to the murder site now? Or wait for the sun to rise? Considering this was Oklahoma, someone might get trigger happy and think she was the killer coming back to take her jollies out on the victim’s home once more. Waiting for daylight would be safer.
Earlier she’d considered asking Jacob to take her there, but from the sound of it he already had enough marks against him. Asking him to bend the rules for her would be too much. Besides, she doubted he’d allow it, and what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.
At least those were the lies she was buying into. The truth tickled the back of her mind and spurred her into fleeing in the middle of the night.
Emma liked him.
A cop.
It couldn’t end well.
She opened the passenger side of the truck and stopped.
Hadn’t she locked the truck? Her keys were still in her purse, so she couldn’t have unlocked it.
Emma set the file box in the floorboard and stepped up on the metal running board along the side of the truck to peer into the cab.
A piece of paper lay in the driver’s seat, bathed in red.
Her heart leapt into her throat, pounding so hard it was difficult to breathe. She glanced around, but nothing moved on the quiet street. She grabbed the paper.
I see you.
I will finish what he began.
TBKiller
The images behind the text were in hues of red, but the pictures she knew well. They were her grandparents. Her fucking grandparents.
How dare he.
How fucking dare this son of a bitch threaten her with the atrocities that were done to them. The sick bastard probably thought he was going to scare her.
No.
Now she was seriously pissed off.
Mitchell Black had killed himself, denying the families he’d wronged justice.
This one, this copycat, he couldn’t get off so easily.
Emma had to find this guy, even before Jacob. She didn’t know what she’d do, but she had to find him. He wouldn’t fuck with her the same way he killed her family.
She’d...she didn’t know what she would do, but she wouldn’t let this happen. Not again. Not to her.
“Emma?”
She grabbed the door handle and peered over her shoulder.
Jacob leaned out the front door, pajama pants low on his hips. Where had those come from? She could barely make him out in the shadows.
She stuffed the letter under the passenger seat and climbed down out of the truck as Jacob crossed the lawn to her.
“What are you doing up? It’s like, two in the morning.” His hair stuck up every which way and his features still had that relaxed ease from sleep.
“I—uh—didn’t think you’d want me here when you woke up.”
“Why would you think that?” He stood close, almost toe-to-toe with her.
“I don’t know.” And she really didn’t. He wasn’t the kind of guy that shoved a girl out the door a few minutes after orgasm. He’d actually tucked her in bed and snuggled her after round two on the couch, which was how she fell asleep in the first place when she meant to go home.
“Come back inside.” He
took her hand and tugged her toward the door.
“One second.” She pressed the lock button on the truck and closed the door.
She was certain she’d locked the truck to begin with, so the only other way for someone to get into it was with her spare key. She went to the back fender and reached up to her customary spot next to a bump in the metal.
But the key box was not there. She felt to the right and left, but still no box. She found it shoved so far up the fender she could barely reach it.
Someone—TBKiller—had moved her spare key.
She should be frightened. Terrified. But she knew what was out there. She’d be prepared from now on.
She pried the magnetized box off the fender and pocketed the whole thing.
“Something wrong?” Jacob asked.
“Yeah, I think my key fob has a short in it or something. It’s not unlocking every time. I’m going to switch them out in the morning.”
“Okay. Make sure you get it taken care of. Could just be the battery. Come on.”
Jacob took her hand once more and led her back into the house. Her heart didn’t know if it should pound in anger or desire. What exactly was she getting herself into?
Laura Winthrop circled the truck stop, key in hand for the bathroom. She had a long haul ahead of her to get to Houston, but it would be worth it to see her babies again. There were some serious downsides to being a truck driver, but she couldn’t deny the pay was better than anything she’d get working at the corner grocery store or driving a delivery route.
After this trip, she’d be able to take a four-day weekend. Maybe drive her babies down to the beach for a little fun before she had to get back on the road for a few weeks. She had a plan and everything. They could rent bikes, fly kites, maybe even camp out on the beach.
She clung to that thought as she slid the key into the lock and held her breath. You could never trust these rundown gas stations to do any upkeep on the bathrooms. Hell, if the toilet flushed she considered herself lucky. She opened the door and flicked on the light.
Blind: Killer Instincts Page 7
