Relentless Pursuit

by Lulu Pratt

  Chapter nine

  JAMESON WILCOX

  I traded in the bike for my Porsche tonight and as we zip through town, I’m pleased with my decision.

  I get a better view of Grace this way and she’s stunning as usual.

  Her hair is up tonight, showcasing her slender neck and all I can think about is marking it up and claiming her as mine.

  We reach our destination swiftly and she reads the sign on the building before turning to me.

  “Why are we at a gun range?”

  “Let’s go inside and find out,” I say, vacating the driver’s seat to walk around and open her door.

  An hour later, I’m rock hard in my trousers and second guessing my sanity.

  I’d had the bright idea to teach her how to shoot a gun but didn’t take into account just how much we’d be rubbing up against each other.

  I stood behind her for the first thirty minutes, molding her hips into the right stance and adjusting her shoulders before she fired the gun.

  The contact was torturous and heavenly at the same time.

  But we need to get out of here before I have an embarrassing accident in my pants.

  “Are you hungry?” I ask as my hand finds her lower back to lead her out of the building.

  “A little. What are you in the mood for?” she asks turning to me.

  As I examine her face under the street lamps, I almost blurt out exactly what I’m in the mood for but I rein in my lascivious words.

  “I have a place in mind,” I say instead.

  We walk over the rough gravel of the parking lot until we reach my car. Before opening the passenger door, I trap her between me and the door and my head falls to her neck inhaling her signature scent.

  Even after an hour surrounded by dusty debris and shell casings, she still smells edible: a hypnotizing mix of rose and vanilla.

  I can’t help it when my tongue darts out to taste her.

  She whimpers, her body melting into the side of the car. I suck viciously, spurred on by her reaction.

  “Let’s get out of here,” I murmur finally pulling away.

  *

  My favorite diner is buzzing with customers, typical for a Friday night.

  Grace and I sit side by side at the bar, opting not to wait for a booth to come available.

  We have a front-row view of the cook as he prepares our enormous burgers.

  “How was your week?” Grace asks, her fingertips lightly drumming the countertop as she sways in the swivel barstool.

  I turn to face her and words fail me.

  She’s a goddamn siren who’s stolen my ability to think straight.

  “Well, mine was good,” she says picking up the conversation with a teasing lilt in her voice.

  She swivels on the barstool and her legs swipe mine pleasingly.

  That’s it, I decide.

  Clearing my throat, I call out to the waiter that we’ll have our food to go.

  Grace looks amused yet confounded in the same breath.

  “Hey, what are you doing?”

  “Come home with me tonight,” I implore, my voice rigid and firm.

  If she’s startled by my sudden request, she doesn’t show it.

  “Okay,” she agrees just as the waiter brings our food.

  *

  I violate a long list of traffic laws to get us to my place in record time.

  A forty-minute drive is nearly cut in half.

  Inside, we leave our shoes at the door and Grace trails behind me as I walk to the kitchen to store our food.

  “Let me give you a tour,” I offer absentmindedly.

  We don’t make it down the first hallway before I’m drawn by the irresistible urge to claim her mouth.

  I corner Grace against the wall and drop kisses down the column of her neck. Then I consume her lips with a hunger I can’t explain.

  “I want you, Grace,” I mutter between kisses, my body pushing into hers.

  The contact is dizzying and my cock strains harder, desperate for release.

  In the light of the wall sconce next to us, I can see her eyes are hooded and dark.

  Wordlessly, she initiates a ravenous kiss of her own and moans into my mouth as I grind against her.

  “I need you, Jameson.”

  Those words set me in motion. My hands fall from cupping her face to the button of her jeans.

  Her breath is coming out in short gasps, her anticipation evident.

  With the button and zipper undone, I shove the waistband down past her hips.

  The softness and fullness of her hips makes me bite my lip.

  She’s incredible.

  I move away from her so that she can step out of the jeans, leaving her clad only in her panties and top.

  I reach up to remove the pretty blouse she has on and my breath hitches when I see she isn’t wearing a bra.

  Her full breasts are inviting, her nipples already puckered tautly due to her arousal.

  The visual is incredible.

  “Fuck, Grace. Are you trying to kill me?”

  In seconds, my head is bent to sample her perfect tits. My tongue greedily circles her nipples as my teeth nip at her sensitive flesh.

  “You’re perfect,” I declare as I kiss her hard and begin to unbutton my shirt.

  Her hands are occupied, roving over my shoulders and getting lost in my hair as she succumbs to the pleasurable stimuli I’ve inflicted.

  “I want to fuck you. Hard.”

  “Please,” she pants against my lips.

  With my shirt gone, I undo my belt buckle and push my pants and boxers down in one swift motion.

  My cock relishes in the freedom, the head glistening with pre-cum as it rests against the base of my abdomen.

  “Turn around,” I grunt hoarsely.

  But she’s too busy biting her lip as she admires my length intently. I can almost see her mouth water.

  My hands find her waist and I turn her to face the wall. Her cheek presses against the surface as her hands reach back to pull me near.

  With a firm tug, I rip the lace panties from her frame and kneel behind her.

  Instinctively, she arches her back so that her tits are pressed firmly against the wall while her ass is elevated, exposing her opening.

  My tongue finds her slit slick with desire, as my nose takes in the delectable scent of her arousal.

  I kiss her deeply there, savoring her unique taste. My hands are planted firmly on her hips to hold her still as I sample her eagerly.

  She is divine.

  “Jameson,” she whimpers helplessly. “Yes… yes, oh God yes!”

  Her moans embolden me and I don’t relent until I suspect she’s right on the edge.

  Then I stand hurriedly, bracing one hand against the wall and anchoring the other on her hip as I push into her with one hard stroke.

  We cry out in pleasure together as I fill her to the brim, stretching her tight pussy to accommodate my thickness.

  Her walls clench mine torturously and I know our first fuck will be hard and fast.

  I’ve waited too long for this to hold back.

  Pulling out completely, I lean down and nip at her neck. Slowly, I rub my cock up and down her slit until she’s whining and begging me to fill her.

  Relenting, I push back inside of her drenched walls and start pumping furiously.

  “Jameson.” It’s the only word she seems capable of as I swivel my hips, driving into her with a force that shakes us both.

  Grace keeps her back arched and begins to grind back into my forward thrusts, pushing me to fill every inch of her.

  Her moans echo down the hall as her pussy swallows my cock over and over.

  She’s so damn responsive. I love it.

  Sweat begins to coat our bodies as evidence of our exertion.

  I’m burning up but I’ll let the flames fully consume me before I abandon the woman torching me.

  “Fuck,” I curse savagely, my fingers digging into the flesh of her roun
d ass.

  “You’re fucking me so good,” she pants wildly, her hands braced firmly against the wall as she takes my hard thrusts with pleasure.

  The sight is maddening.

  My gut begins to tighten and I slow my hasty strokes to delay my orgasm.

  I pump into her with slow, controlled strokes until I feel the quivering that starts in her legs. Her pussy’s grip tightens around me.

  A new wave of moisture coats my cock as she begins to spasm, surrendering to her orgasm.

  Her screams fill the air, punctuating her release.

  Satisfied, I reclaim my previous pace, thrusting relentlessly until I find my own completion.

  Spasms rock me from head to toe and my cock jerks as rivulets of cum begin to spill deep inside of her.

  I yell her name over and over as we both ride the final waves of ecstasy.

  I pull out of her and rest my head on her shoulder as we both breathe, spent from the effort.

  Chapter ten

  JAMESON WILCOX

  The next morning, I wake up alone in my bed. I glance at the clock on the nightstand and realize it’s not even eight.

  Where the hell is Grace?

  After brushing my teeth and washing my face, I slip on a pair of boxers and go out into the hall.

  Our clothes are still strewn about carelessly, reminding me of our hurried first encounter. We’d eventually made it to the bedroom for rounds two, three and four.

  It’d been a long night. A long, satisfying night.

  The smell of coffee wafts into my nostrils as I round the corner to my kitchen, but I still see no sign of Grace.

  Worry sets in until I see something sway past the kitchen window.

  Walking over to the sink, I see Grace is out on my back deck swaying in the swing that overlooks my property. She’s wearing my boxers and shirt from last night, sipping coffee from my favorite mug.

  She looks serene and right at home.

  My eyes take in the scene and an unfamiliar feeling settles in the pit of my stomach.

  Guilt follows as I fall into a thoughtful mood. She’s here under false pretenses, blindly trusting me.

  Shaking off the unwelcome feelings, I walk outside to greet her.

  A beaming smile welcomes me when she looks in my direction.

  I speak first.

  “Good morning, Grace.”

  “Good morning,” she says almost shyly, her voice raspy from the screaming she’d been doing all night.

  I feel my boxers tent as flashbacks ambush me.

  “What are you doing up so early?”

  “I’m always up this early,” she pats the space beside her and I sit down obediently.

  She offers her cup and I take a sip, groaning at the richness of the flavor.

  The woman makes an excellent cup of coffee.

  “I would have made breakfast, but you don’t have a lot to choose from in your fridge,” she explains.

  My chuckle is low and bashful.

  I hadn’t exactly anticipated having company so my food rations were low. After we’d devoured our take-out from the diner around two a.m., the only thing remaining was a sad gallon of milk and a few beers.

  Her stomach rumbles and my guilt is automatic.

  “I’ll go into town and grab us something,” I volunteer as I stand to my feet.

  “I don’t mind going with you,” she says, staring up at me.

  Her amber eyes are arresting in the morning light. She looks content and well rested despite the early hour.

  But as tempting as her offer sounds, I know I have to decline.

  I need some alone time to contact Mendoza and see if he’s been successful with the task I gave him a few days ago.

  Pressing a kiss to her forehead, I excuse myself.

  I dress and retrieve my keys, leaving Grace to lounge on my back deck.

  *

  Unbeknownst to Grace, I’ve been tailing her all week since discovering Brick was in town.

  Each day, she travels the same route between home, work and the gym completely oblivious to the black SUV I was driving three cars behind her at all times.

  My surveillance doesn’t end until I knew she was home for the night, confirming this information with carefully worded texts.

  I don’t plan to let up until I know that bastard has skipped town and hasn’t sent any other hounds sniffing for her.

  Last weekend, after my first date with Grace I’d called Brick and asked for an extension on my previous deadline. He had reluctantly agreed, happy that I was at least tracking her closely at all times.

  I was relieved to have bought myself more time. My initial thought was to end our business relationship altogether but Mendoza had warned that it would raise too many red flags on Brick’s end.

  As I call him now to check in, I’m thankful for his foresight.

  “Wilcox,” he answers on the first ring.

  “What you got for me, Mendoza?”

  “I’m about twenty minutes away, can you meet up with me real quick? I don’t want to do this over the phone.”

  We agree on a place and I disconnect the call, before backing down my driveway. On my way out, I stop to check my box and the only item inside is an envelope containing an invitation to the American Veterans Ball.

  I have received the same invitation every year since my discharge and each year I don’t show my face.

  This year won’t be any different. Balls and fancy outings just aren’t my thing. I’ll simply buy a ticket in support and stay home.

  *

  An hour and a half later, I’m parking in my paved driveway.

  The meeting with Mendoza took longer than I expected. I learned that Brick had left town last night, arriving back in Ravenwood early this morning according to one of Mendoza’s men.

  But that doesn’t mean Grace is in the clear. There’s always the chance that he’ll return or send someone else to check up on her.

  I’d left our meeting in a hurry to go retrieve breakfast from my favorite mom and pop spot up the road.

  The appetizing smells coming from the bag remind me of how hungry I am.

  As I enter my home, I hope Grace isn’t too suspicious about my long absence.

  However, when I reach the living room, I know the odds are slim as she is knocked out on my couch. Her body is in a tight ball in the corner.

  Placing the food on the coffee table, I study her quietly.

  Her hair is damp when I ease my fingers through the thick strands, evidence that she took a shower in my absence.

  Envy surges through me when I realize I missed it.

  She’s still wearing a pair of my boxers and a clean T-shirt she found in my room.

  I kneel beside the couch, running my hand over the smooth skin of her jaw.

  “Grace,” I call, attempting to rouse her with my voice.

  She’s awake instantly, amber eyes wide and searching the room frantically.

  My heart stops as the utter fear registers on her once peaceful face.

  At once, I’m seized by the desire to comfort her and ask her what she’s so afraid of.

  My gut tells me it has everything to do with Brick but how can I ask those questions without revealing myself?

  Grace sits up, wrapping her arms around herself in defense.

  “Oh, hi,” she whispers. “I must have been a lot more tired than I thought.”

  Her eyes land on the bag of food and she lights up, the dark mood lifted immediately.

  Before us, I spread out breakfast sandwiches loaded with bacon, eggs and cheese. I also retrieve ample orders of hash browns from the bag.

  From our previous outings, I know Grace isn’t a modest eater and it’s a complete turn on.

  “What would you like to do for the rest of the day?”

  Tilting her head, she observes me as she continues to eat her food.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask, growing uneasy.

  “You want me to stay?”


  “Why wouldn’t I? Are you free for the rest of the weekend?” I ask, shoving food into my mouth greedily.

  I want her to stay for a very, very long time. It feels right to have her here, no matter how devious my initial intent.

  If she’s here, I can keep an eye on her. And fuck her around the clock.

  Last night’s activities had only been a small taste of what I plan to do to her.

  “The rest of the weekend?” she echoes in lieu of an answer.

  “Yea, are you free? I want you here with me.”

  A rapid blush settles over her cheeks.

  “Okay,” she agrees with a small nod. “I’ll just have to get some clothes from my place. You ripped my only underwear and I don’t think I’ll survive in your boxers all weekend,” she adds cheekily.

  I definitely wouldn’t mind her in my boxers all weekend.

  Chapter eleven

  GRACE CHAMBERS

  We journey into the kitchen to dispose of the garbage and grab some more coffee before hitting the road.

  Jameson tells me it’s about a forty-five minute drive although I don’t remember it taking that long last night.

  I prepare two more cups utilizing his single-serve dispenser, taking in his immaculate kitchen.

  From what I’ve seen so far, everything has its own place. Organized so meticulously that I bet he knows exactly where everything is even when the lights are off.

  I wonder if he’s always been a neat freak or it’s something he picked as a SEAL. Probably a combination of both, I decide.

  As I turn to retrieve the creamer from the fridge, Jameson’s strong hand grasps my elbow turning me around with a firm tug.

  My front melds with his as ravenous lips claim my own.

  Caught off guard, I moan as his tongue slides against mine, exploring every corner of my mouth.

  “I’ve wanted to kiss you since I saw you on my back deck this morning,” Jameson confesses, making me dizzy.

  Breakfast was innocent enough, but the tension was there and the hardness pressing against my stomach is proof.

  Spurred on by his arousal, I become hungry for a taste of him.

  His tongue had felt so divine against my aching center last night and I want to return the favor.

  Without warning, I drop to my knees in front of him on the kitchen floor.

  “I’ve wanted to do this for a while, too,” I tell him.