by Nana Malone
Impatient, I divested her of the remainder of the barely-there panties, the same way I’d taken care of that worthless cami. Merely hearing the tearing of the rest of the fabric brought me closer to the brink.
Impatiently, I kissed down her body. I nipped at her hip bone and her hips jerked up off the couch. “Roone, oh my God. You don't have to. I—”
What? Was she mad? No way was I making love to her without tasting her first. I cut her off with a stroke over her clit.
“Oh God.”
I repeated until she started to shake, then I wrapped my lips over her clit and sucked. Jessa dug her hands into my hair and pulled it tight. Yeah it hurt, but the fuck I cared about battle scars.
Although I did start to worry when I slid two fingers inside her pussy and her legs lamped around my neck. “Shhh. Relax. Just let it feel good.”
Jessa’s panting and pleading that it was too much, made me smile. “Just tell me to stop.” I waited. “Go on.”
Her laugh was throaty. “You're such a tease.”
“Oh, I’m not tease, princess. I plan to deliver. I just want you to have some fun on the way.”
I stroked over that spot inside and she screamed. While I stroked, I sucked. It only took seconds, but she drenched my hand, and her thighs quivered around my fingers.
“Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.”
Her body arched up and back as she shook. “Roone, oh God.” I couldn’t tell if that was one long orgasm, or if one had rolled into two. Either way, she held onto my fingers like they held the answer to world peace.
I brushed my stubble against her inner thigh. With wide eyes, she stared up at me like she was holding her breath.
I stroked her wet slit with the backs of my knuckles, and she rolled her hips into the caress, moaning for me. Her wetness coated my knuckles with her juices. “God, you’re so wet.” I stroked again.
Jessa tossed her head back. “Jesus, Roone, please don’t tease.”
I chuckled as I slid a finger inside her, reaching into her slick depths. Slowly, I retreated then added another finger. With my thumb, I teased her clitoris by making light circles. She was still coming down.
Her hips rocketed off the couch, and still I slid my fingers into her.
When she widened her thighs, I inhaled. I loved her scent, spicy and decadent. I wanted to go back for another taste, but I’d make love to her first. I needed to feel her around me.
She attempted to tug me up by yanking on my hair, drawing me closer to her. “Roone please, I need you. I can’t—”
I kissed a path up her body again, pausing momentarily at her breasts. With a muffled curse, I reached for my wallet on the coffee table. I snatched a condom out, ripped the foil with my teeth and had myself sheathed in seconds. Then I positioned my cock at her entrance. With one stroke, I slid into her to the hilt. She cried out as I groaned through gritted teeth.
“You are so tight.” I withdrew an inch and re-seated myself inside her. “Fuck… feels good.”
Ecstasy and white-hot bliss exploded in my body. I buried my face in Jessa’s neck as I struggled to conquer the blistering need to claim her hard and quick. She felt like heaven. Soft, silken heaven wrapped around my cock. A hundred armed men could have come charging through her front door, and I would have been powerless to leave her.
“Roone, please.” She dug her nails into my back again.
Through clenched teeth, I muttered, “Shit, Jessa. Stop that. Otherwise, we won’t be here for long.”
She placed an open-mouthed kiss on my shoulder. “I don’t want to stop. I want you.” Her hands slid to my ass, massaged the bunched muscles, then drew my hips forward and tucked me further inside her.
That was the moment my body snatched control from my brain. I drove into her with enough power to make her gasp.
Her legs locked around me and she met me thrust for thrust, rocking into me. Pleading. I grazed her neck with my teeth as I fucked her. I wanted to leave a mark. I wanted the world to know that in this moment she was mine.
My hand in her hair gripped tight. I forced her to arch to give me more access. All the while I kept up the pace. I could tell before I think she knew, that she was about to blow again. It was that first telltale quiver.
“That’s it, princess. I love to watch you come.”
And come she did, squeezing my dick tight. Trying to hold on to it for an eternity. If I could have, I would have let her. And then the heat came, the white-hot fire on the tail of lust, threatening to blind us both.
It curled up my spine like a lover’s caress and exploded as I came. No matter what happened, I would die to keep Jessa McLean.
Fire burned in my chest. Because all I had to do to keep her was not tell her the whole truth.
26
Jessa…
I knew exactly where I was or rather who I was with. As the streaks of sunlight threatened to blind me in the morning, I knew what I’d done last night on the couch. Then again in my bed. Okay fine. What I’d also done against the wall on the way to the bedroom. And I was terrified.
I'd been awake for forty minutes. Trying to find the courage to get up and shower to face it all or to snuggle in and just sleep for another hour, so I was stuck in limbo. Also, I kind of wanted to see if he'd do what he'd done to me last night again, because ‘one more for the road’ was something I'd always wanted to say.
No. You know how this is going to end up. And it's not going to be fun for you.
Are we sure it won't be fun? Because, orgasms.
Nope get up. Get in the shower, freak out in private. Maybe escape to go get breakfast then conveniently forget to come back until he’s gone. And then put the wall back up.
I tried to expertly slide out of the bed. I had not had many opportunities for one-night stands. Okay no real opportunities. I’d had maybe one one-night stand, and it was really more like a two-day fling when I was on vacation in Vegas with a friend. There had been no need to sneak away because we were getting on separate planes, never to be seen or heard from again. But this, this was different. I would see him across the hall and at work. And there was no pretending that this hadn't just happened and that I hadn't just lost my ever-loving mind.
I shuffled slightly. I was trying to take one of the sheets with me, but he had that duvet wrapped firmly around him.
As I stood, his hand reached out and wrapped oh so gently around my wrist. "Where are you going?"
I swallowed hard. "Um, shower. Then you know… food?"
"That sounds like a question not a statement."
"Can you let me go? It's cold out here."
"I have a solution for that." He tugged me down into bed and quickly covered my body with his.
I squealed. "Oh my God."
He kissed me softly, expertly melting away the temporary wall of ice I’d started to construct. "Now, where are you going?"
"I am going to shower. You know, I have things to do."
He shook his head and lifted a brow. "It's okay. I can wait."
I glowered at him. "Fine. I’m having a hard time stiff-upper-lipping this, so I was going to run away, shower, sneak out of my flat, pretend to go have a coffee and breakfast, then maybe return when I thought I wouldn’t run into you. Only then will I maybe call Chloe. Have a girl chat, you know? Where she’d tell me, ‘You go girl! You got some.’ And I'd tell her, ‘Oh God, I'm not actually sure what this means.’ You know that sort of thing."
His smile was lazy before he dipped to nuzzle my neck. "I have a better proposal."
Yeah, that was his super power. The nose thing against my neck. I was weak. Weak for the neck. "Roone. I really don't know what this means."
He pulled back, and his eyes were serious. "I don't know what this means either. But I do like you. And let's face it, you like me too. You might not want to, but you do. And we make an excellent shagging team."
I snorted a laugh. "I mean, you're okay. But I’m the real champion in this duo."
He chuck
led then. "Oh, so that time you were screaming, ‘Oh my God, yes right there, yes. Oh my God.’ That doesn't mean you like me?"
"Oh my God." I smacked his arm.
He quickly and efficiently captured my wrists above my head. "Oh, you were the one saying it. I didn't force you."
"You were busy giving me lots of orgasms. That the standard response."
He shook his head. "Nothing about you is standard. Like I was saying, I like you too. And this complicates a lot of things. But considering I've been living with a perpetual hard on since I first laid eyes on you, I'm not really going let you go now that I’ve tasted you."
My inner diva preened. "Really? A perpetual hard on, huh? It's a wonder you're getting anything done."
"I know. Especially when you walk by and say something sassy. God, you're so sweet, but that little bite of attitude? Guaranteed turn on."
I scoffed. "You just like difficult women."
He frowned. "Who said you were difficult?"
I frowned and tried to shove down the feelings of inadequacy. "Nobody." My father.
"Well, whoever that idiot was, you're not difficult. And you're not trouble. You're just perfect, and you just need someone who can actually handle you."
"I do not need to be handled." I wiggled in his grasp.
"And by handle, I don't mean control you." His grip tightened ever so slightly, warning me that physically, he was superior. "What I mean by handle is someone who can support you and thinks you're fantastic and can sometimes partake in your craziness. That's what I mean by handle you."
Well then… “Oh.” How the hell was I supposed to fight and struggle if he was being sweet?
You're weak.
I was weak. But, the hard length of him was pressing against my center. His hips rolled ever so slightly, and the promise of orgasm tripped my synapses, so I couldn't really think properly. Later. I'd think about all the ramifications of this later.
"You ready to stay in bed with me now? And we'll figure out all the complicated things after, like way after, you've had so many orgasms you don't even think of leaving my bed anymore."
"So, you plan to control me with orgasms?"
There was that classic grin again, slightly off center, lopsided. Totally panty-melting sexy. "Princess, I'm pretty sure you're the one controlling me."
Roone…
I was pretty sure the princess was trying to kill me. With every smile, every flip of her hair. Every trace of her fingertips over my muscles. She was killing me one step at a time. Because I knew I wouldn't be able to let her go so easily.
You shouldn't have crossed the line with her. You should have told her the truth. It didn’t matter that I was under orders not to. None of that would matter in the end. The problem was I still couldn’t let her go.
Yeah. I crossed a line. But even knowing how it would end up, I would cross it again because I'd never wanted anyone so much in my life. So, she could slowly kill me, and I would accept it. Because to me it was worth it. I deserved it.
"What are you thinking about?" Jessa asked softly. She kissed my nipple and gently used her teeth to graze it. A shiver of lust ran through my body. Jesus Christ. How was it possible that I could go again already? I should be out for the count. Three times last night. Twice this morning… I should be dead.
Dick: I'm a rock star.
Me: Pretty sure this is all Jessa.
Dick: Yeah. It is.
She giggled as my cock brushed her thigh. "My God, you're a machine."
"Well, you're the one kissing my nipple, so really, this is your fault."
"Sure, blame the poor innocent woman who had no idea that endless orgasms were in store. I think my vagina hurts."
I frowned. "Shit, was I too rough?" Was it the doggy style? I’d lost control a little with that last night. Gripped her hair too tight. Just thinking about the curve of her back and I was throbbing again.
She bit my nipple again. "Just rough enough. I meant you might have to kiss it and make it all better though."
I couldn't help the smile that crept over my face. "Oh hell, yes."
She giggled and tried to duck out of the way. "But first I need sustenance."
“What do you have in the fridge?"
"I have the makings of breakfast."
"I'm good with that. Just know that I have zero intention of letting you get dressed."
"I can’t just walk around naked to cook."
I bit her shoulder. "Spoilsport. Besides, I get the impression you’ve walked around naked plenty. Not to mention I’ll be doing the cooking. No princess of mine has to make her own breakfast after she tried to kill me with sex."
“Death by cock. Why did I never know that was an option before?” She giggled. “What time is it?”
I glanced over at the bedside table. "It’s half ten."
"Shit. I was supposed to have a lunch meeting with someone."
I frowned at her. "Who? I feel like we already established that all bets are off for the whole work situation, so who are you meeting with?"
She ran her hands through her hair. She was busy lifting up the sheet, trying to find the pair of underwear she'd snuck on before I ripped them off. I wouldn't tell her that I'd actually ruined them until later.
Maybe she didn't have to know.
"This isn't a work thing. It's another thing."
I lifted a brow. "Woman, if you think I'm going to let you out of bed to see another man, you've got another think coming."
"I just told you my vagina hurts. Do you really think I could see another guy?"
I shrugged. "Hey, you're an overachiever. I'm just letting you know now, I'm not letting it happen."
"It has nothing to do with that. You know I'm not seeing anyone."
I grinned at her. "Yeah, I know. If you were, there’s no way would you respond to me like that."
She smacked my shoulder.
"Ow."
"Quit your whinging. You know full well I can hit you harder than that."
"That I do. So, what is it? What's your appointment?"
I willed her to tell me the truth. I knew she had a meeting with James Morgan who ran Hope House. But it was really important to me to have her tell me. We needed to cross the threshold together. Especially after last night. I wanted the truth from her.
Oh sure, she has to tell you the truth, but you don't have to tell her? Bile rose in my throat.
"You're going to think I'm crazy."
I sat up. Letting the sheet drop fully to my waist. Her gaze drifted over my shoulders. And then down my chest to my abs. I flexed on purpose just to see her pupils dilate because yeah, I'm a bloke.
She shook her head and then dragged her gaze back up to my eyes. "You're doing that on purpose."
I nodded. "Guilty. Now, your meeting?"
She ran a hand through her hair. "There's this bloke who ran the residential facility my father was at before he died."
I frowned. "Okay?"
"As I told you. He wasn't well. He was diagnosed with a delusional disorder when I was eleven. For the most part, with therapy and medication, he lived relatively a normal life. But one little change, something would be up with his medication or I’d start a new activity at school, and he’d stop taking his meds and just..." Her voice trailed.
I toyed with a strand of her hair. "Go on?"
"Since I was a kid, dad was really obsessive with thinking someone was going to kidnap me or take me away. So much so that in our time in Canada, he had me learning martial arts and marksmanship. At first he made it fun, like it was a game. And we’d learn together so it was more father-daughter bonding. But then he started getting extra weird with security. He’d decide that someone was following us, and we’d have to move."
I frowned. "Wait, just like that?"
“Oh yes. Sometimes, he’d pick me up from school with a small backpack for me and that would be that. No warning. No time. A few times it was in the middle of the night where he’d wake me up and off we’d
go. I learned to not really care about lots of possessions after that.”
It was one thing to read about her life in a report. Another to see how it really was for her. “I’m sorry. That sounds horrible.”
She shrugged. “It was what it was. But even as his illness got worse and worse and the delusions grew, and I dragged him from shrink to shrink, he was steadfast. Even when he was on his meds, he insisted that someone was out to get me. He didn’t spin as much and overly obsess, but he was unwavering. My safety was his number one concern.”
“What are you saying?”
She sighed. “I guess, my whole life I thought he was ill. I never gave his delusions any credence. When he was on meds and still held fast that I was in danger, I doubled down on therapy. The fact is I never took him seriously. And lately, I’m starting to think I should have.” She sat up on her knees as she shifted the sheet. “I went to Hope House to collect his things. I sorted through them and sent some sketches he made to a couple of people who worked there. A few days later, someone broke into my flat and stole the originals of those sketches.”
What the fuck? This wasn’t information we’d had before. The building had been dark when she’d been broken into. She’d told the police nothing was taken. “Did you tell the police?”
She shook her head. "No. I didn’t notice until a few days after, and I don’t know, it seemed like I was making a mountain out of a molehill. But then, I sent the scanned sketches to a friend to try to see if she could identify the tattoo in them, and then I was followed.”
Shit. That one had been us, the night we lost her. But what fucking tattoos? “You scanned the sketches?”
“Yeah. He was an artist. More videos and photos, but he also loved to sketch. He did it all the time. So I thought I’d send the sketches to James and Lulu at Hope House so if any of the residents were in them, they could keep them if they wanted.”
“Smart. Now what do you mean you were followed?”
