by Lili Valente
“Easy,” he murmured, withdrawing his magnificent tongue just as the tension building within her began to peak. “Take slower, deeper breaths.”
She sucked in a deeper breath, but slower was much harder. She was already so close to the brink she could feel the hot desert wind of oblivion blowing in her face, tempting her to throw her arms wide and fly.
But this wasn’t about pleasure, this was about control and she was determined to show him she had as much will power as he had.
Fingernails digging into her palms she forced herself to blow out through her pursed lips for three seconds and then to sip air in through her nose for another three. But yoga breath only took her so far.
As soon as he resumed his wicked work—kissing and nibbling the quivering flesh on either side of her entrance, his attention to that usually neglected area making her even more sensitive when he brought his tongue back to her clit—she was quickly back at the razor edge between anticipation and satisfaction, fighting the orgasm she’d usually be reaching for with both hands.
“Pinch your nipples hard enough to hurt,” Jackson ordered, his fingers replacing his tongue, thrusting in and out of her pussy, daring her to come. “Then concentrate on the pain. Concentrate on the pain and fight your way back from the edge until I tell you to let go.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, her words ending in a ragged gasp for breath as his mouth covered her sex and he sucked all of her into his mouth.
It was a foreign feeling, but an insanely hot one. She pinched her nipples so hard the sting made her jaw clench, but she still wasn’t certain she’d be able to hold back for long. He was too good, too intense, so skilled at bringing a woman pleasure she could have come half a dozen times if he’d allowed it.
“Please,” she begged, panting as she fought to keep from shattering. But it was so hard to resist succumbing to the deep rhythmic pulls as he suckled her clit into his wet heat even as his tongue undulated inside of her.
“Please, please, please.” Her begging became a chant, a prayer for mercy he ignored until she was moaning and writhing on the floor, so close to the edge she felt like she was losing her mind.
Only when she was wild for him, teeth bared in a grimace and nipples bruised from her own abuse did he pull away from her pussy and order in a deep, resonant voice that rippled through her like the first seismic tremor of an earthquake. “Come, princess.”
Instantly, she did. She came so hard she literally saw stars, holes in the night that flashed and blinked behind her closed eyes. She came like desert grass meeting a match, like a boulder crashing down a mountain flattening everything in its path. She came screaming and bucking into his mouth and clawing her fingers into the ground because she needed something to hold on to, something to keep her connected to the physical world as she was leveled by the most intense orgasm of her life.
It was epic, beautiful, and so damned intense she knew she’d been ruined for anything less than this highest of highs, the dizzying pinnacle of pleasure on the mountaintops above the clouds, a place she hadn’t realized existed until Jackson had taken her there.
It took what felt like forever for her pleasure to be done with her. By the time she finally lay sated on the ground, catching her breath as she stared up at the slowly whirling ceiling fan and her overheated skin cooled, Jackson was on his back beside her.
“That was…” She shook her head, at a loss for words, but feeling like she had to try. “Revolutionary.”
Jackson grunted, an amused sound that made her think she’d pleased him. “And the longer you wait, the better it gets.”
Hannah’s breath rushed out. “I can’t imagine anything better.”
“You don’t have to,” he said, his fingertips brushing hers. “I’ve got enough imagination for the both of us.”
Hannah kept her gaze on the ceiling, resisting the urge to turn to look at the man beside her. If she kept her gaze on the spinning fan and the underside of the thickly thatched roof, she could pretend that this was a tender moment with a captivating new lover, not a cease fire in some kind of twisted, erotic war.
As long as she didn’t turn to see the darkness in Jackson’s eyes, she could look forward to his feats of imagination, instead of fearing him the way she should. It wasn’t healthy or sane, but pretending kept her from falling apart when Jackson stood and left the room a few minutes later, without so much as a goodbye.
But then goodbyes were for people, not prisoners, and she had a feeling a lapse in manners would be far from the worst thing that happened to her while she was under Jackson’s control.
CHAPTER NINE
Hannah
Hannah spent the rest of the next day alone in her room, trying to recover from the most intense sexual encounter of her life.
She paced from one side of the large space to another without remembering how she got from Point A to Point B. She stood staring out at the fruit trees, mesmerized by the scenes of the night before playing out in her head, and came back to herself to realize she’d lost over an hour and Eva was already setting her dinner tray down on the glass coffee table beside her.
If it weren’t for the ache between her legs and the way her ass throbbed every time she sat down, it would have been easy to dismiss the entire encounter as a dream. Surely no man could make a woman feel the way Jackson had made her feel, especially not a woman he hated, whose mind he was determined to dismantle piece by piece.
But the more clues she gathered about the past, the easier it became to understand why he hungered for revenge.
She couldn’t stop thinking about the things he’d let slip last night—about the police not being able to spot a real victim and the bruises Harley had faked—and piecing together how those things could combine to make a man so angry he would dedicate his life to tracking down the woman who had wronged him. Taking into account what she knew about her twin, it didn’t take much imagination to guess that Harley had framed Jackson.
Framed him for something awful.
The bruises could have been part of an assault charge, but Hannah’s gut said that wouldn’t have been enough for Harley. When Harley wanted to punish someone, she went for the jugular. She wanted her vengeance to hurt and to keep hurting for as long as possible.
And what would hurt a man like Jackson the most? A man who had been so crazy about Harley it whispered from his hands, lingered in every word, poured from his soul when he made love?
What would destroy a man who would have died before he laid a hand on his lover in anger?
By the time the sun sank behind the mountains at the rear of the property and birds began to fill the yard, feasting on the insects emerging into the cool dusk air, Hannah was certain that Harley had accused Jackson of rape and that at least a few people had believed her.
What she didn’t know was why.
Why had Jackson become Harley’s target in the first place? Based on Hannah’s one night with him pre-private island, her gut instinct was that he was a good man—intense in the bedroom, but as tender-hearted as he was Dominant. But now she knew that he had a dark side. A black as sin side. She had no doubt that he would destroy Aunt Sibyl in his quest for vengeance without thinking twice about it. She also had no doubt that he was a criminal and every bit as dangerous as Eva’s son had said he was.
But what had come first? Was he a bad man who had earned Harley’s twisted brand of justice? Or was it Harley’s lies that had transformed a good man into a person ruled by hate and bitterness?
She didn’t know, which was why she had to get permission to leave her room. She would never get to a cell phone or a computer if she was trapped in the master suite all day.
She told herself that’s why she was so desperate to see Jackson again, but lying to herself was getting harder with every day she spent in captivity, forced to confront the truth in all its forms.
And the truth was that every cell in her body hungered for Jackson’s touch. She longed for his hands on her breasts, his tongue in
her mouth, his cock shoving into where she was already sore and aching.
She knew it would hurt to take him again so soon, but she wanted the pain. She wanted the pain and the pleasure and the closeness she’d felt in those few breathless minutes they’d lain side by side on the floor in the dark, their fingertips barely touching.
“What’s wrong with you,” she muttered as she finished her dinner and turned her teacup over, preparing to pour herself some of the chamomile tea Eva had taken to bringing to help her sleep. But underneath the cup, tucked neatly beneath the tea bag, she found a piece of paper folded into a tiny square.
Tea forgotten, Hannah unfolded the paper to reveal a few words scribbled hastily on the page:
I’m watching. Don’t be afraid. I won’t let him hurt you. Be strong and wait for my signal. I’ll get to you before it’s too late. –A friend
Crumpling the note in her fist, Hannah looked up, scanning the world outside her prison. Was this from Eva? From her son? Or was Adam, the pilot, not as obedient as he’d seemed during their flight to the island?
Or maybe this was from Hiro, the man she’d thought was a true friend before he’d helped facilitate her sale to a monster.
Whoever it was, she wasn’t sure what they meant by a signal, but she would certainly be keeping an eye out for anything that looked remotely like a sign. It was comforting to know someone was concerned for her, but her less optimistic side insisted that getting away from Jackson wouldn’t be so simple.
If there was a traitor in his midst, she had little doubt the man was already two steps ahead of the person who had offered to help her.
Just like he’ll stay two steps ahead of you and make sure you never get to that computer to type his name into a search engine.
The thought was depressing, and her tea tasted pungently sweet in her mouth instead of comforting the way it had the night before.
She moved mechanically through her shower and headed to bed not long after dark, but she knew sleep was going to be hard to come by. Her skin felt too tight and every nerve in her body raw and agitated. She tossed and turned for over an hour, shifting from lying on her side, gaze fixed on the door, to flopping the other way to stare out at the patio.
She didn’t know which point of entry Jackson had used the night before, but she wanted to see him coming if he joined her again tonight, to be alert and aware instead of waking up already wet and aching and half out of her mind with lust.
Outside, the moon was rising, casting the trees in peaceful blue light. She longed to step through the sliding glass door, to feel the grass cool on her bare feet and the breeze whispering across her feverish skin. It felt like years since she’d been outside and waiting for Jackson was making her feel her captivity even more keenly.
Finally, as midnight came and went and the clock crept closer toward one, she admitted that sleep was a lost cause. She was too on edge, too desperate for contact and the chance to get closer to solving the mystery of the man who owned her.
She flung off the covers, wrapped her toga sheet around her breasts, and padded across the wooden floor. When she reached the glass, she couldn’t resist sliding the door open and letting the wind in through the screen door. The villa was one of the few she’d encountered in the islands that had air conditioning, and it had been humming steadily during her entire visit, but Jackson hadn’t said that she couldn’t open the door. He’d just said that she couldn’t leave the room or he would punish her.
The thought sent electricity coursing through her, like lightning dancing across water. It was a beautiful, dangerous feeling and before she knew what she was doing she was reaching for the screen door and sliding it open.
She was about to step one bare foot over the threshold and onto the concrete patio when a voice sounded from outside the door.
“I was wondering how long it would take for you to disobey me,” he said, his voice as deep and delicious as it had been last night when he’d asked her if she wanted him to fuck her.
Against all common sense, Hannah smiled. “I haven’t disobeyed you. I’ve only opened the door. I haven’t left the room, sir.”
“But you were about to,” he said, shifting in the padded lounge chair he’d pulled up beside the door sometime between the time she’d gone to bed and when she’d finally given up hope of sleep.
In the soft moonlight, she could make out the outline of his features, but not his expression. She couldn’t be sure if he was angry or in the mood to play, the way he had been last night after her spanking, but for some reason she sensed she wasn’t in trouble. At least not yet.
But she could be…
She pointed her toe, letting it hover above the unblemished concrete as she circled her ankle. “What will you do if I step outside, sir?”
“Harley…”
Her sister’s name was a warning, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to obey or not. To be a good girl or a bad one. It was hard to choose, when he made punishment feel so good.
“I broke a rule last night,” he continued softly, his deep voice setting things to stirring inside of her, making her even more anxious for his touch.
“What rule was that?”
“I told myself I wasn’t going to fuck you with my mouth,” he said. “That it was too good for you. That you didn’t deserve that type of pleasure from me.”
Hannah brought her foot back to the floor inside, torn between indignation—she wasn’t her sister, and she wasn’t a foul thing unworthy of his kiss—and empathy. He wasn’t the man she’d met that night six years ago and whether she’d had good reason or not, Harley was to blame.
Jackson was profoundly changed, but there was still a hint of vulnerability beneath his merciless exterior, and she wanted to get closer to that soft spot, not farther away. She wanted him to feel in control so that he would loosen the restraints he’d placed upon her and let her out of her cage.
But how could she make that happen when he’d set so many rules for himself? Rules they seemed destined to break as the chemistry between them flared hotter with each encounter?
Finally, she decided she had no choice but to ask and hope he could hear the sincerity in her question.
“What can I do to make things better, sir?”
“Nothing,” he murmured. “You have no power here, princess. Remember that. It is the only thing you need to remember.”
“I understand,” she said, curling her toes into the hardwood as knowing flickered to life in her bones.
It wasn’t a thought so much as a feeling, a certainty that she should trust her instincts. She wasn’t an experienced lover, let alone an experienced submissive, but her instincts hadn’t led her astray last night. She’d pleased him and she could only hope that following that soft, sure voice inside her would please him again tonight.
“I know I have no power.” She released her hold on the sheet, letting it fall to her feet, leaving her naked in the moonlight. “I’m here for your use.” She waited until she felt his eyes on her in the near-darkness before she sank to her knees. “So use me, sir.”
He shifted slightly in the chair. “Would you like that?”
“Yes, sir,” she confessed, knowing she wouldn’t be able to pull off a lie when her sex was already slick from the thought of his cock pushing between her lips.
“You’d like me to fuck your mouth?”
She dampened her lips, nerves tingling. “Yes, sir.”
“Are you sure?” He rose from his seat, moving closer with that predatory gait of his. He was wearing dark pajama pants and no shirt, leaving his powerful chest and taut stomach bare to her gaze. He was as stunning as he was crazy and just a single look at him was enough to make her pussy wetter. “I won’t be gentle. I won’t stop when I hit the back of your throat. I’ll fist my hand in your hair and force you to take it all, every inch.”
She bit her lip, barely holding back a moan of arousal. “Yes, sir.”
“I’ll fuck you until tears run down your cheeks and spi
t leaks from your chin.” He stopped in front of her, reaching out to tangle his hand softly in her hair, making her ache to wrap her arms around his legs and rub against the silken fabric of his pajama pants like a cat desperate to be petted. “I will use you until you’re jaw feels like it’s about to snap in two and then I’ll come so deep down your throat you’ll have no choice but to swallow every drop.”
She let her head fall back, not bothering to try to control the way her breasts rose and fell as her breath grew faster.
She wanted him to see what he did to her, how much she wanted everything he’d just described. She wanted him to take her mouth and then she wanted him to throw her on the bed and claim her body the way he had last night, soothing away the shame of the punishment with pleasure. She wanted his smile between her legs, his face twisting with passion as he labored above her, as lost in the magic they made as she was.
She knew there were no guarantees that she would see Jackson’s patient, gentle side again, but it didn’t matter. She would take his anger and punishment if that’s all he would give her. She wanted him whatever way he would have her and she seemed to have no more control over that than the wind whipping through the trees outside, forcing the limber trunks to bend.
“Have you ever deep throated a cock before, Harley?”
“No, sir. But I want to try.”
“It’s going to hurt,” he warned. “Especially the first time.”
“I don’t care,” she whispered. “Please.”
He made a soft, hungry sound low in his throat and his hand tightened into a fist in her hair, sending another shockwave of arousal coursing through her. “All right, princess. Then sit back on your heels and open wide.”
She let her jaw drop and her tongue slip out to cover the edges of her bottom teeth, her body buzzing with awareness as he shoved his pajama pants lower on his hips, freeing his engorged length. Her nipples tightened as his cock bobbed free, seeming even larger from this angel, with the thick, turgid length pointing directly down toward her face.
