by Livia Grant
Jonah let his other arm surround her, hugging her lithe frame tight against his body as she half-heartedly tried to fight him off.
Her caramel-colored eyes were staring at him with such profound disappointment he couldn’t take it. Slamming his eyes closed as tight as they would go, he struggled to recall some of the calming techniques he’d learned in his anger management classes.
When that failed, he tried to think of Frank and the damned lawsuits. He knew that to proceed with what his body was screaming for would surely end with him in deep trouble, and he wasn’t talking about the legal kind.
I’m losing myself again.
Hatred for her family poured through his veins unchecked and her fake innocence was almost more than he could handle. He’d have preferred her to own up to her choices. At least then she wouldn’t be reminding him of what a fool he’d been to believe her good-girl routine.
She should be a fucking actress.
His threat to fuck her had rendered her speechless. She was wiggling in his arms, fighting to be free as he shuffled them backwards the few feet until her back pressed against the bookshelf. In their struggle, they crashed into the shelf hard enough to tip over a decorative vase, shattering it with a crash.
How many times had he gone to sleep dreaming of finishing what they’d started that night so long ago. Never, not once, had it gone like this in his head. Yet, the sick bastard inside of him, desperate for revenge for all they’d put him and his mother through, wouldn’t let him stop.
She finally found her voice, pleading with him as tears fell down her cheeks. “Don’t do this, Jonah. Please. This isn’t you.”
He snapped. “You’re right. It’s Cash.” He ground his steely cock against her as hard as he could. Only the clothes they still wore prevented his entry. “As you can see, he’s very happy to meet you.”
Raw fear shone from her eyes and it checked him briefly. He closed the last inch between them, going in for a kiss. But Samantha turned her head at the last second and he latched onto the tender spot where her neck met her shoulder instead.
He started with a lick and then a nibble. God, she tasted so fucking good. He caught a whiff of the same perfume she’d always worn, throwing him back seven years. They were in the backseat of his run-down Chevy, making out like the teenagers they had been. He was encouraged when he felt her body melting against his.
Only tonight felt different. She’d always made him feel more like a man when they’d been together. No. Like an important man in her life, even when he had only been an eighteen-year-old punk with big dreams. How ironic that standing here now as a twenty-five-year-old success, he felt like a coward forcing himself on her out of some sick need for revenge.
In his anger, he bit down, stopping just shy of breaking through her skin. He had marked her. How juvenile was it that that brought him joy? He wanted to mark her as his. No matter who else had her—past or future—there was a part of her that would always belong to him. He had had her heart first.
The urge to mark her in every way consumed him. He deserved closure too, didn’t he?
He separated enough to look into her eyes. Her fear had receded and there was a spark, just a grain of desire in its place.
His hands flew to the front of her blouse and in one terrifying moment, he let the anger he’d pushed down erupt, tearing her blouse open, buttons flying in several directions as her ivory skin was exposed. Her chest heaved, with fear or excitement, he wasn’t sure. She tried to cover herself with her now-free hands, but he didn’t allow it. Instead, he took hold of her black lace bra and ripped it apart with his bare hands.
“Oh God, not like this.” Her tears were coming harder as she struggled to free herself from his grasp. She was no match for his strength. He had her trapped against the shelves and as she pressed for freedom, he reached under her skirt and ripped her panties away as easily as he had her bra.
Jonah was helpless to stop from bringing the lace in his hand to his nose, taking a long drag of his current drug of choice—Samantha.
He was a man crazed. Starved for years from the one thing he’d really wanted and now, when it was there in front of him, laid out like a smorgasbord for the taking, he was helpless to deny himself.
He tried to convince her too. “Your body doesn’t lie. Admit it. You want me to finish it too.” He grasped her by the arms, shaking her lightly.
“No. Not like this.” She shook her head from side to side as her eyes pleaded with him.
“What? You want roses and chocolates? I’d have thought you’d have been paying attention to the gossip columns.”
“That’s not you, Jonah. Not the real you.”
“Are you so sure? Maybe you need a little demonstration to see the new and improved Jonah?”
He lurched forward then, determined to show her how cruel revenge really was. He captured her lips in a brutal kiss, plundering her mouth with his tongue. He could taste the remnants of the expensive champagne she’d drunk as her own tongue dueled back.
His heart was about to explode under the strain. The pressure of his hard manhood pressing for release from his leathers warred with the thumping of his heart, ready to pound of out his chest. His heart physically hurt as if he were having a heart attack. Memories—good and bad—rushed him. Confused him.
Within seconds, her body relaxed into him. The kiss had rendered her putty in his arms. His brain tried to reason now was the time for the ultimate revenge. He would toy with her affections, so that when he was done with her at the end of the night, maybe she would be as broken as he had when he’d been the one tossed aside.
Only the kiss was affecting him in ways he could not ignore. A spark of recognition of a long-lost magic crackled inside him, trying to ignite into a flame. He clung to the feeling just as he clung to his Sami.
The urge to consume her was overwhelming. It was more than sexual need. Even more than dark revenge. There were no words for the emotions washing over him. He just knew he would die if he didn’t get inside her.
Their kiss had become ragged, each of them out of breath. He reached for the zipper of his leather pants, fighting to free his aching cock. Samantha felt his movement and renewed her struggles.
With great relief his erection sprang free, pressing between their bodies. Her eyes widened as vulnerable tears flowed down her cheeks. He leaned in, sticking his tongue out and licking the salty wetness just as his free hand reached back under her skirt, this time coming into direct contact with her soaking wet slit.
Victory. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. He stroked her pussy with little finesse. His need was too great. He lifted her skirt to her waist, enabling better access to her core. A kernel of reason tried to sprout. He suspected it was his conscience. It was shouting at him to stop.
Jonah listened to it as well as he listed to Frank and even Sami herself.
He closed the final distance, using his hand to guide the tip of his cock to her entrance. They were finally, all these years later, exactly where they’d been when Jonah had had his heart ripped out. He looked at her then. Really looked at her. How could she have the same innocence in her eyes she’d had back then as a sixteen-year-old virgin? The unique caramel shade with swirls of gold flecks were exactly as he remembered them.
He’d dreamed of those eyes more often than he cared to admit. Memories of Samantha admiring him adoringly had kept him going on the dark days when it seemed his dreams were out of reach. Echoes of her whispers of encouragement had spurred him on over the years. That she was here, in his arms was unreal. A mirage.
If this was a dream, he never wanted to wake up. Only this scene wasn’t following any scripted vision from his past.
She whispered, one last plea, “Please, Jonah. Not like this.”
“I’m sorry Sami. It’s all I know.”
He closed his eyes to tune out her haunting expression and then surged forward, crashing his body into hers with a velocity that shook several books off the bookshelf be
hind them. His cock rammed into her core with a ferocious vengeance so dark he almost missed the tearing of her thin barrier.
It took all his effort to stop, frozen buried deep inside her hot channel that was impossibly tight. With dread, Jonah opened his eyes and knew from the pain shining back at him that he’d just made the biggest mistake of his life.
Praying he was mistaken, he pulled his shaft out of her body, separating from her enough to look down. The sight of her bright red blood coating his own flesh was like a knockout blow. All thoughts of vengeance were gone, replaced with a crushing guilt.
What have I done?
“Christ, Samantha! What the fuck?” He searched her pained face for an inkling he’d been mistaken. Finding none, he choked on his next words. The tip of his cock still inside her as they clung to each other, each unsure how to recover.
“How? Why?” He waited for answers in stunned disbelief that she’d remained a virgin for the seven long years they’d been apart. Hell, he’d fucked at least a hundred women in that time.
Her tears turned to sobs before he got his answer. “No one else was you!” It was a shouted plea and he felt it in every fiber of his being. God help him, but she had pulled him back in. He may have been the one to overpower her body, but she had won this battle. She had overpowered his need for vengeance, plunging him into a dark need to finish making her his in every way.
Their lips found each other again as their bodies ground together, renewing their need. This time, it was Samantha who pulled away, a strange new expression he couldn’t read on her face.
“Please, Jonah. Let’s finish this. You were right. We both need closure.”
“But…”
Her lips cut him off, sucking him into a different kind of kiss. Gone was the frantic frenzy meant as a prelude to a sexual act. In the space of a few minutes, it felt like all of the bullshit that had conspired to tear them apart had been blown away. What was left was such raw emotion; it scared the shit out of him.
He had to catch her weight as Sami jumped up, lifting her legs to wrap them around his body in an attempt to take control. His cock slipped a few inches deeper, dragging a pained groan from the woman in his arms.
“Are you okay?” It was a stupid question, really. For all intents and purposes, he was in the process of raping her.
The blush across the bridge of her nose and cheeks was adorable, kicking him in the gut. He’d been a fool. The look of innocence he’d picked up on earlier hadn’t been a show. She really was… or at least had been… an innocent.
“I will be.” He knew the look in her eyes. He saw it every night looking out into the throngs of women who came to their show. He may have forced this upon her, but now that they’d started, she’d become a willing participant.
He had to be honest with her. “I don’t think I can any more. I know I hurt you.”
“What you did to me physically didn’t hurt me as much as what you’re doing emotionally. I don’t know why you hate me.”
In that moment, he couldn’t honestly remember either.
He gave in to her pleading eyes and his throbbing cock as he turned to carry her across the room towards the huge bed against the far wall. As they approached the bed, Jonah resumed their kiss, breaking only to lay Samantha gently beneath him.
She kept her legs wrapped around him as they ground their hips together, each thrust driving his cock a bit deeper. He pulled back, looking at her one final time and seeing the spark of his old Sami shining back at him.
They both cried out as his shaft drove home, buried deep inside the beautiful woman lying beneath him. Part of him wanted to hide from her gaze, not deserving the acceptance he saw in her eyes.
Again and again he took his pleasure, delivering as good as he got. It was too emotional to last long. When he knew he wouldn’t last much longer, Jonah felt between their bodies, finding her sensitive clit and pressing it hard enough to bring her eruption just as he exploded inside her.
Only as he laid gasping for his next breath, never wanting to leave her body, did it dawn on him that he’d just had unprotected sex for the first time in his life. Rather than feel upset or angry, Jonah felt vindicated. He had truly marked his Sami this time. No one had burst in to stop them.
In the post-coital haze, the final adrenalin from the concert and Sami’s appearance left his body, leaving him drained. He managed to roll to his back, pulling Samantha along with him so that her head rested on his chest, using him for a pillow as she snuggled as close as possible.
He wasn’t exactly sure what the future would hold now in light of this new change of events, but he suspected it was going to be interesting.
Exhaustion closed in. He fought to stay awake, not wanting to miss any time with Samantha, but sleep claimed him as powerfully as his revenge had just minutes before.
When he awoke disoriented some time later, it took him a few seconds for the memories to return. The lights were still on, making it easy to see he was alone. Jonah sat up with a groan, swiveling around, disappointed when he confirmed Samantha was no longer there.
His examination of the room did find one thing changed. At the edge of the bed, sitting on top of several smears of her virginal blood they’d spilled on the white comforter, was a folded piece of paper. His name was scrolled across the front in her distinctive handwriting.
Cash.
With dread, he reached for the sheet. He didn’t need to read the note to know she was gone. He could no longer feel their magic in the room.
When he lifted the single sheet of paper a gold necklace spilled to the bed. He recognized the locket he’d given her on her sixteenth birthday immediately. It had been the same day he’d asked her to his prom. He’d never had the money for real gold, but Sami hadn’t cared that her gift was a knockoff.
There was a lump in his throat as he opened the tiny latch to the locket, not surprised to find the small lock of his hair she’d insisted on putting in the compartment. She’d been carrying a bit of him around with her and he could tell by the tarnished condition, she’d worn it regularly.
In an odd way, he’d been with her all these years apart.
The flip side of the sheet of paper had more of her distinctive penmanship.
Cash,
Consider us “closed.” If you ever see Jonah again, tell him I used to miss him.
Samantha
Chapter 5
Samantha stumbled out of the elevator on the first floor of Runway to find herself backstage. She was grateful that with the Crushing Stone’s concert over there were only a few band support personnel still there. From the aroma in the air, they’d hung around to enjoy a joint while shooting the shit.
The pounding beat of the dance music being served up by DJ Elixxir in the main club gratefully drowned out the sound of her boots on the tiled floor. Sam pulled her leather coat tighter around her, keeping her eyes on the ground, desperate to make her way out of the building without having to talk to anyone.
She’d taken a couple of minutes to wipe off the sticky blood on her legs before leaving the suite upstairs, but with each step, she could feel new wetness sliding down her inner thighs. In a trance, she forced one foot in front of the other, desperate to be alone so she could process all that had happened tonight. She took a peek around as she walked, grateful that Ryan, the only band member who knew her, wasn’t there to confront her.
Sam was almost to the exit when she heard a shout behind her. “Miss! Stop! Where is Cash?” It was the voice of a man she’d never heard.
Samantha rushed to close the last six feet to the exit. Her hand was on the door before she felt someone squeeze her arm, pulling her to a grinding stop. Frustration at missing her exit combined with repressed anger from her encounter with Jonah spilling out in aggression. Balling her free hand in a fist, she spun around and connected with the man’s left arm with enough velocity that he stumbled back, pulling her with him.
Their bodies bumped flush against each other as he g
lared at her. She struggled to be free, but he only held her tighter. “I need your signature before you leave.”
In her precarious mental state, this confused her. Did he think she was a celebrity of some sort? She didn’t really care. She just wanted to be alone.
Sam yanked hard and freed herself from his grasp long enough to turn back to the door. This time he tackled her, pressing her body against the hard metal door.
“You can’t leave, yet,” he growled into her ear.
“Like hell I can’t! Let go of me!” Panic was closing in. Being manhandled by Jonah had been bad enough. She wouldn’t survive another attack by a stranger.
“Let go of her, Frank.” Jaxson’s voice boomed loudly across the backstage area. Samantha almost wept with relief.
Her attacker’s grip loosened, but didn’t end until Jaxson was crowded in next to them, pressing himself between the two. He had his back to her, but she could feel the tension rolling off his body as he stepped in to protect her.
“Back off, Jaxson. This isn’t your concern,” the man named Frank argued.
“The hell it’s not. This is my club. Get lost.”
Frank pressed, “She’s a problem.”
“If she is, I’m making her my problem.”
“But, you can’t protect Cash like I can.”
She was close enough to Jaxson to feel his growing anger as he leaned in to shout into the guy’s face. “If Cash did anything he needs protection from, then he’s gonna have to deal with me first, not this young woman.”
She watched as the two well-dressed men stared each other down before the kinda smarmy looking guy finally took a step back and turned to walk away in a huff.
Only after she was relatively alone with Jaxson did she realize she should have tried to sneak out when the men had been busy with each other. When Jaxson turned to face her, she felt a wave of aggression rolling off him after his encounter with Frank. His expression only got darker as he raked his gaze up and down her disheveled body.
