Brett Bartowski, a man who knew exactly what to do with his hands to make a person feel…
A low groan slipped from Jorja as the masseuse’s fingers worked the aggravated muscles in her neck; the sound part pain, part pleasure.
Christ, the guy knew how to touch.
“There is a lot of congestion in her splenius cervicis muscle,” he said, no doubt to Mud. “How did you say she hurt it?”
“Foreplay,” Mud answered, still to Jorja’s far right. That he was in the room, watching another man touch her naked body, sent an unsettling wanton flush through her. That he was sharing with Brett something so private and intimate as their sexual activity only heightened that carnal reaction.
The hands kneading the base of her neck paused for a moment. Silence hung in the air. Jorja wanted to lift her head. To look at the man she loved. To see what was in his eyes.
A strangled laugh sounded above her head as Brett began to massage her neck and shoulders again. “Did you get to finish?”
“No,” Mud answered. “That’s why you’re here.”
Jorja’s head spun. Her belly clenched. Her pussy pulsed. Oh God, was Mud inviting Brett to fuck her? Was this his way of telling her their relationship had run its course? Their sex life had never been boring, but it had always been consistent. Was this break with the norm his way of showing her he was ready to move on?
And if it was, what did she do?
Pushing her palms to the arm supports beneath her head, she raised her head, seeking out the man she loved, only to find herself staring straight at Brett’s crotch—the massive bulge in his khaki chinos directly at her eye level, letting her know exactly how the surreal situation affected him.
“Mud?” she said. If she moved any more her breasts would no longer be pressed to the massage table. Was she ready for another man to see her that way? No matter the unexpected curl of arousal licking between her thighs right now?
Was her boyfriend?
“Let him make you feel better, JJ,” Mud’s low voice came from the right, a strained tension in it she’d never heard before.
Her belly knotted again. Closing her eyes, she pulled a slow breath and lowered her face to the table again.
Another beat of silence hung on the air above her.
“Are you sure?” Brett asked. There was no denying the unmistakable desire in his question.
If Mud answered, Jorja didn’t hear it.
Brett’s fingers began working her flesh again, massaging the muscles of her shoulders, first the right and then the left, before moving up into the base of her skull.
Another groan slipped from her as his fingers found the tender spot. She stiffened, and then moaned as he melted it away with hands she could only describe as magic.
The pulse of dark pleasure between her thighs throbbed harder. The primitive sexual hunger simmering in her—ignited by Mud’s earlier passion—flared hot again. She pressed her thighs together, her clit a nub of concentrated need, and let out a soft whimper.
From the far right, she heard Mud’s swift intake of breath.
The hands on her shoulder paused—for a heartbeat—and then began to work their way down her back. Slowly.
Fingertips brushed the side swell of her compressed breasts, barely a feathering caress, before moving towards her hips.
She closed her eyes, the liquid pool of want in her core churning with uncertainty. Did she really want this? Even if Mud did? Did she?
Brett smoothed his palms over the base of her spine, the tips of his fingers skimming the curve of her arse with every incredible stroke over her muscles.
And then he was kneading her backside, his fingers spreading her cheeks gently, massaging them with a touch less therapeutic and way more…sexual.
Jorja bit back her moan. Closed her eyes. Thought of Mud watching…
Brett’s hands travelled lower, to the backs of her thighs. High. Close enough his thumbs brushed the folds of her pussy.
She gasped.
Brett groaned. “Fuck,” he murmured, his thumbs touching her pussy lips again, his palms pressing against her thighs to part them wider. To grant his thumbs greater access to her sex. “I’ve wanted to do this to you from the second I—”
“No.” Mud’s deep growl tore the air.
Brett’s hands stilled.
Jorja raised her head, desperate to see her boyfriend, her heart a sledgehammer in her throat. “Mud?”
“What—” Brett began, a second before Mud grabbed his arm and pulled him back from the table.
He didn’t look at her. His stare—burning with an intensity beyond Jorja’s comprehension—stayed fixed on Brett’s face. “I’m sorry, Bartowski, I thought I could. I thought… No, it’s time for you to go.”
And with that, the muscles in his biceps and shoulder coiled and he dragged the masseuse farther from the table.
Jorja watched, laying on her tummy in an awkward position so as to not expose her breasts, stunned and confused and…and…
Brett flicked her a look, the open hunger on his face tempered by the fear that filled his eyes when he turned back to Mud. He nodded, slid his gaze to Jorja once more and then back to Mud.
“Now would be good, mate,” simmering danger laced Mud’s low suggestion. “Before I—”
Brett turned and hurried from the room.
Mud stood motionless as he fled, his back to Jorja, the muscles in it tense. At his side, his hands were loosely curled fists. He didn’t speak. It wasn’t until the faint click of the front door closing sounded in the gym that he moved.
He slumped, his shoulders rolling forward, his head dropping.
Throat thick, her stomach a mess of insane butterflies, Jorja pushed herself upright on the table, covering her breasts with her hands as she stared at her boyfriend’s back. “Mud?”
Nothing. Except for his fists balling tighter for a brief moment.
Jorja swallowed. A numb chill crept through her. She reached out to him, only to halt her hand before her fingers could touch his back’s broad expanse.
“Mud…Daniel,” she whispered, staring up at the back of his head. “Please talk to me.”
He slumped again, a ragged sigh tearing from him as he raked his hands through his hair with an aggression Jorja knew had to cause pain. “I’m sorry, JJ,” he said, his voice a husky growl.
Mouth dry, belly clenching, Jorja studied his back. “For what?”
With another sigh, Mud turned to face her.
Raw torment etched his face. Torment and anger and that same ambiguous emotion he’d worn since kneeling at her feet over an hour ago. “I know you love me.”
He stopped. Jorja’s stomach rolled.
Raking his hands through his hair once more, he shook his head. “I know you love me, Jorja,” he repeated, the words strangled. “And, God knows, I fucking love you more than I ever thought possible. You make me feel…human, you make me want to be better. But I also know I scare you.”
He turned his face from her, eyes squeezing shut. Jorja’s heart hammered harder as she looked at him, a painful beat she felt all the way to her soul.
“I hate that I scare you,” he continued. “I hate that I take out my aggression on you, especially during off-season, even if it makes for the most incredible fucking sex ever. It fucking petrifies me that I’m going to scare you away, and if I lost you, I think…I think I’d lose what makes me a decent man.”
A wave of prickling heat washed over Jorja. She hugged herself tighter, Mud’s words flaying at her sanity. “Why invite Brett here?” she asked, unable not to. “To fuck me? Why do that?”
Mud’s answering sigh tore up from his chest, a sound far more animalistic than any she’d heard him make before. “Because I wanted to give you something that wasn’t me. Does that make sense?” He returned his stare to her face, wretched torment burning in his eyes. “I wanted to give you something tender and gentle and not scary and not…not…Jesus, something not a fucking caveman, but I couldn’t do it
. Watching Bartowski touch you…fuck, I could have killed him right there. I could have torn him apart. And that scares me.”
The heat rushed over Jorja again, a million fire ants razing her body. She stared at him. Thought of Brett’s tender hands on her body, the backs of her thighs…
Thought of Mud yanking her bikini top open out on their balcony and taking possession of her breasts with hands not even close to gentle.
Her tummy clenched. Her throat grew thicker.
“Why does it scare you?” she whispered, every fibre of her body on fire.
He barked out a laugh devoid of humour. “Because I want to give you everything you want, and if one day everything you want isn’t me…how do I survive that without becoming a monster?” He paused, scanning the room, his fists white-knuckled at his side. Conflict and hate twisted his face. His jaw bunched. “If you’re what makes me less a macho prick like my father,” he went on, his voice hoarse, broken, “what happens when the macho prick inside me drives you away?”
A soft breath slipped past Jorja’s lips, lips curling into an equally soft smile. She removed her hands from her breasts and reached for his wrists. Sought his fingers with her own. “Mud, look at me.”
He didn’t, fixing his stare instead on a point beyond her, somewhere out on the waters of Sydney Harbour. His Adam’s apple jerked up and down his throat. His chest rose and fell with deep, ragged breaths.
“Daniel,” Jorja said, smoothing her hands up his arms to his face. She cupped his jaw, exerting small pressure in an attempt to turn his head, an attempt he resisted. “Look. At. Me.”
With a choppy sigh, he did.
The self-contempt and fear in his eyes stilled her heart. She ached for him. For him and the torture he was putting himself through.
“I’m sorry,” he said, the words a silence plea.
She brushed her thumb over his bottom lip, shaking her head. “You are an idiot, Daniel Hiddleston, if you don’t know beyond doubt everything you are is everything I want. It’s been that way from the second I saw you, and it will be that way until the day I die.”
Mud stared at her, a motionless statue.
She let her smile stretch wider as she traced his bottom lip once again with her thumb. “And you know why I know this?”
He shook his head. It was the only movement he made.
“Because every time I look at you, I see everything you are; the macho prick you fear is inside you, the passionate lover who isn’t sated until I’ve come over and over again, the funny boy who makes me laugh, the possessive caveman who makes me so horny, and…”
Mud drew a sharp breath on her pause. “And?” he repeated on a husky whisper.
She slowly rose to her feet, allowing her naked body to brush against his as she stood. “And the man I trust with not just my pleasure, but my heart.”
He gazed down into her face. His nostrils flared. His jaw bunched.
“I love you, Daniel,” she said, trailing her fingers down his chest. “Because of everything you are.”
His belly hitched under her fingertips. A heartbeat before he cupped her face in his strong hands and crushed her lips with his.
He swiped his tongue into her mouth, a hungry mating that sent liquid heat straight to the centre of her existence. She moaned, sliding her palms up his chest and into his hair. The damp strands slipped between her fingers, an erotic caress that only heightened the potency of his kiss. He feasted on her lips, as if ravenous. Jorja understood. She craved him on a level beyond comprehension. Pressing her body to his, she ground the curve of her sex against his rigid cock, frustrated by the denim of his jeans separating his flesh from hers.
With a growl, he dragged his hands down over her breasts, squeezing each one with kneading fingers, pinching her nipples with gentle force, before reaching his fly and yanking it open. All without breaking their kiss.
His cock sprang free, a thick steel pole that nudged her belly.
Instantly, a wave of raw need rolled through Jorja, fed by Mud’s undeniable desire. She raked her nails down his back, around his hips, capturing the engorged member with her right hand as she shoved his jeans over his hips.
And still his tongue, his teeth, made love to her mouth.
Still he worshipped her, with a kiss so fierce in its intensity she feared she would die from pleasure.
Wrapping her fingers tighter around his cock, she traced her thumb over the tip of its bulbous head, her pulse quickening at the bead of moisture anointing it.
“Jorja…” Mud groaned against her lips, kneading her backside with one hand as the other cupped her breast. “I want—”
“Fuck me, Mud,” she pleaded, pumping his cock with a slow up and down stroke. “I want you inside me so much.”
Another growl rumbled deep in his chest and, before she realised what he was doing, he circled her tiny waist with long, calloused fingers, hauled her feet from the floor and deposited her butt onto the massage table.
He shoved her legs apart with his hands, filling the wide V of the junction of her thighs with his hips. His cock ground to her sodden folds, rubbed at the sensitive button of her clit. She whimpered, rolling her head as he scored a path of hot kisses and sucking bites up to her ear.
“I want to make you come first,” he whispered, his breath warm on the side of her neck. He pushed his hips forward, his cock parting her labia with a slow, upward thrust until it rubbed against her clit again.
Jorja moaned, closing her eyes as a wave of pleasure radiated through her lower body. “Oh Mud…”
He nipped at her jaw, her chin, and then moved his mouth lower, massaging her breast with his hand until he closed his lips around her nipple and drew on it with fierce need.
She arched into his suction, tangling her fingers in his hair as she ground her spread sex to his rigid length. “Yes…oh yes…that’s…”
He changed to her other breast, rolling the pebbled tip of her nipple between his teeth. Exquisite pain and pleasure shot through her and she bucked again, scraping at his scalp with her nails.
His hands roamed her body, squeezing her arse, her breasts, cupping her jaw, circling her throat. And all the while, he feasted on her nipples, sucking, biting, plaving with his tongue.
Over and over until a delicious heat began to pool in Jorja’s core.
Until the soles of her feet and the base of her spine began to tingle.
‘Oh God, Mud…” she panted, writhing on the massage table, her clit a swollen nub of aching want, her body on fire. “Oh God, I think I’m…I think I’m going to…I’m going to…”
Her orgasm slammed into her before she could finish uttering the unbelievable, a detonation of liquid heat and concentrated pleasure. She threw back her head, her hips bucking, her cries high on the air.
And still Mud didn’t cease his worship of her breasts. He continued to suckle on each one, lavishing them with thorough devotion. She moaned and begged him to stop, pleaded with him for more. Sex with Mud was always a glorious conflict of sensations and emotions. He made her ache in ways her body and soul craved, even as he propelled her from intense lust to bone-melting desire and pleasure.
Clawing at his shoulders, she wrapped her thighs around his hips in an effort to rub her swollen clit against his cock. “Oh God, Mud…” she whimpered. “I can’t…too good…too…”
He pulled away from her breast, releasing her nipple from his mouth with a pop, before charting a path with his lips down to her belly button.
And lower.
His tongue swiped over her tender folds, moist from her orgasm and plump with fresh arousal. She hissed, driving her heels to the muscled strength of his shoulders, fisting her hands in his hair. “Fuck. Fuck, yes.”
He explored her sex with his tongue, lapping at her clit, delving into the wet heat of her seam. With every thrust and flick the exquisite tension in the pit of her belly grew tighter. She arched on the edge of the table, her breath falling from her in hot gasps. “I’m going to…”
She drove her heels harder to the broad expanse of his shoulders, a wicked blossom of pleasure unfurling in her core. “Oh fuck, Mud, I’m going to come again. I’m going to come—”
Sucking on her clit, he thrust two fingers past her folds and stroked the sweetest spot of her inner walls.
She came. An explosion of white pleasure and searing rapture. Her pussy contracted, gripping at Mud’s wriggling fingers, a throbbing pulse that shook her to the very core.
She clawed at his arms, rode his fingers, whimpered his name until her throat was hoarse and begged him for more again. “In…inside me, Daniel,” she rasped, the waves of her orgasm consuming her even as they fed her insatiable need for him. “I want you inside me.”
He straightened between her thighs, staring down at her, his eyes ablaze with savage urgency. His nostrils flared. “I’m not going to be gentle, JJ. I can’t. I’m too…I want you too fucking much to be—”
She silenced him with a brutal kiss that told him just what she thought about gentle.
He growled into her mouth, tore his lips from hers, grabbed her hips with fingers used to mashing heads into the ground, and buried himself to the balls in her sex with one powerful thrust.
“Yes!” Jorja cried out, pulling herself into his penetration.
They moved together, Mud’s strokes growing faster, his stare holding hers, his hands squeezing her backside, her breasts.
She rode his rocking penetrations, his cock driving deeper into her pussy, stretching her, propelling her to the precipice once again. Nothing mattered except their two bodies moving together, existing together. Every nerve ending in her body thrummed, an elemental energy of concentrated pleasure and honest need. Of raw want and pure desire.
He held her hips, gazed into her eyes and took complete possession of her body and soul. And when she didn’t think she could take any more, when she feared she was going to erupt in a maelstrom of lust and passion and carnal rapture, he shattered her fraying sanity by cupping the side of her face in a gentle caress and brushing his thumb over her bottom lip, even as he pumped deeper and faster and harder into her.
“I love you, Jorja,” he rasped, punctuating each word with a powerful thrust, his stare never leaving her face. “I love you, I love you, I love—”
Jorja Page 3
