Bullet Series Box Set Books 1-8

by Jade C. Jamison

  She opened the card, and it was simple. Just white linen, and it had a gold S stamped on the front. It seemed formal. She opened it, expecting an invitation of some kind printed inside, and it was, but it was handwritten:

  Jet requests your presence. Please come to my room at your earliest convenience.

  She almost started laughing. It was cute and funny. And, for some reason, she was feeling even warmer than before. Clay had told her less than a week ago that she’d never been fucked by Jet, and now maybe he was willing to show her that side of himself. She felt her nerves get a little tingly, and she didn’t want to linger. She was wearing a white sundress—not exactly sexy—but she couldn’t wait.

  She kept her cool and walked down the hall with a steady gait. When she got to the living room, she saw that his bedroom door was open, so she walked over to it. He wasn’t in there, though, not that she could see. So she called for him. “Clay?” She walked into the room a little bit and saw something on the foot of the bed. She got a little closer and saw a rope coiled up. Her heart started beating a little faster and she wondered what it was for. “Clay?”

  She heard his voice coming from the bathroom. “Sorry, but Clay’s not here. I thought you were coming to see Jet.” He came out of the doorway in all his glory. He wasn’t wearing a shirt—nothing unusual there—but he was wearing ripped jeans, dark sunglasses, a choker, and his guitar was strapped on. It was then that she noticed he had a small amp plugged into the wall next to the desk. He picked up a cable and plugged in his guitar. “I wrote you a little something…just to kind of give you an idea of how you make my blood boil.” He cleared his throat. “Let me know what you think.”

  At first, she almost expected him to start singing, even though she knew that wasn’t Clay’s thing. He sang for his band, but he didn’t go solo. And he didn’t this time either. He started playing the backdrop to a song, a steady rhythm, but then she recognized it was a bridge of some kind, building to a solo. And what a solo it was…it moved her with its passion and energy, and if Clay had ever been able to capture the essence of Jet, he’d done it then and there in his music. She took a deep breath as she felt her pussy clench against nothing but itself, aching for him again. It was damn hot.

  He looked at her, a smirk on his face, also pure Jet, and she felt feverish then—not just hot and bothered but beyond. She felt like she was falling in too deep, that there would be no cure for what he was doing to her, and she started to think that maybe she didn’t want it to end. But she took another deep breath, wanting to stay in the moment, and she bit her lower lip. She could see him raise his eyebrows even under the sunglasses, and then he lifted his guitar up so that the shaft pointed up and almost in her direction. He stuck out his tongue and licked the side, and damned if she didn’t let out a soft moan. She couldn’t help it. She was helpless already, and she thought he knew it.

  In one swift motion, he pulled the strap over his head and leaned the guitar against the desk. Then four steps and he was right there. He pulled the glasses off and tossed them toward the desk too, and she had no idea if they’d hit the target, nor did she care. She was mesmerized by him then, a paralyzed victim ready for his strike. He took her face in his hands and kissed her. It was slow, hot, and full of meaning. She thought she’d come as soon as he touched her.

  He ended the kiss and motioned his head toward the bed but didn’t break eye contact. “That rope?” She nodded. “That’s for you.” She felt her heart speed up again, anticipating the unknown, and she couldn’t tell if she was excited or scared. “You have Jet for tonight, and you can use that rope to tie me down and do whatever you want.” She swallowed. Not exactly what she’d expected…but she wasn’t disappointed. “So…where do you want me?”

  Inside her was her first thought, but no. She didn’t want instant gratification. She wanted it slow and drawn out and sexy and sensual. She wanted to torment him a little, gradually build him up before igniting his entire world on fire. She found her voice. “On the bed.”

  He smirked again, a sparkle in his dark green eyes. “A little pedestrian, don’t you think?”

  If she hadn’t felt so hot, she might have laughed. She would have never expected a guy like Clay to use the word pedestrian. Instead, she pushed against his chest with her hand and said, “Oh, believe me. You won’t think that when I’m done with you.”

  He grinned, his eyes still glinting with desire and playfulness, and he sat on the edge of the bed. “Where exactly does madame want me?”

  She smiled. “How about the middle, with your head on the pillows?”

  He shook his head. “All the possible choices, and look what you’re doing.”

  She wasn’t going to say anything, because she was just turned on by tying him up, and for all his protesting, she thought he felt the same way. So while he was smarting off and then adjusting himself, she grabbed the rope from the end of the bed. She uncoiled it, letting it drop loosely about her legs as she examined his headboard. She didn’t see any practical way to tie him to it. There was a mirror and shelves and nightstands. No bedposts or anything practical for play. Made no sense with a guy like Jet. But then she realized that, just like any other bed, it had legs underneath the skirt. So she got on the floor on her knees and tied one end of the rope to the leg. She didn’t make it super tight. It didn’t need to be. It wasn’t like she really wanted to capture him—the illusion was enough.

  When she got up on the bed on her knees, she saw that his arms were already almost in position. She tried not to laugh. Instead, she lifted his right arm up a little and wrapped the rope around his wrist several times, but then she realized if she didn’t keep the rope tight, it would just fall off when it got loose. Her lack of expertise was showing. So she took the end of the rope and pulled it through the part that had already been wrapped around his wrist, and she wound it around twice. Then she took the rest of the rope and brought it over to his other arm. He was quiet, but there was a twinkle in his eye.

  She straddled him and then lifted his arm, admiring the sleeve of tattoos decorating it. She smiled at him and began winding the rope around his wrist like she had the other. He too said nothing but she could tell he was enjoying every second. Then she lowered herself off the other side of the bed and tied the rope around the leg there. There was still some rope but not enough to make it to his legs. She thought that would be okay anyway. She didn’t need him completely immobile.

  She got back up on the bed and straddled him again. The sundress flowed around her and so she was sure he could feel how wet she was through her panties but he kept quiet. She leaned over and kissed him hard on the mouth, her hands cupping the sides of his head, her fingers in his hair, and then she broke off the kiss and licked his lower lip from one corner to the other. She sucked on it then, drawing it into her mouth, and then released it and started moving down.

  No, she wasn’t going to do what just seemed obvious or natural, but she wanted to lull him into thinking it, and so she journeyed down his chest, licking and kissing along the way, outlining tattoos with her tongue, playing with his pierced nipples, feeling his sides, letting her nails graze his skin the whole way down. When she got to the waistband of his jeans, she grabbed them with her teeth and pulled, growling like a dog, shaking her head. Then she scooted down his legs farther. She unbuttoned his jeans but didn’t touch the zipper. She did massage that bulging mass as she worked her way down, though, and he was ready already. Oh, man, was he in for some torture.

  She let her hands feel his legs the entire way down, pausing at one rip in the jeans to lick the leg underneath, but soon she was sliding off the edge of the bed. The house still felt too quiet, so she sauntered over to his stereo. “I wanna listen to something,” she said and quickly flipped through the stack next to the stereo. She grabbed the Asking Alexandra CD and fed it into the player, just starting it from the beginning.

  And then it was time to let the torment begin. She walked back to Jet and climbed on the bed, wher
e she urged his head up, slipping a second pillow underneath it so it was propped up, and then she walked back to the end of his bed. She closed her eyes for a few moments, letting herself feel the music, swaying her hips and running her fingers through the length of her hair multiple times. She wanted to heat him up, but she was doing it for herself too, because she was going to put on a show.

  She lifted the straps of her dress with her thumbs then, moving her thumbs down the length of the straps to the front of the dress and back. Then she removed them and slid her left hand under the right strap, urging it down her arm. In an agonizingly slow motion, she pulled the strap down her arm while pulling the arm up and out, and then she repeated it with the other strap. She reached behind and slid the zipper down to her waist, just enough to loosen the top without pulling it all the way off. She peeled the top down then, revealing her bare breasts.

  She saw the look on his face. He wasn’t expecting that. Maybe he’d thought she was wearing a bra underneath. She drove her fingers into her hair again, running them through the length once more, and stopped when she got to her shoulders. “Too bad you’re clear over there,” she teased. “I guess I’ll just have to imagine you’re over here.” She slid both hands down the front of her body, down her breasts, taking in a deep breath of air as she did, stopping at her belly. Her eyes were half closed, but she could see that her little show was definitely having the effect she’d hoped. He was hurting…and he had no idea how bad it was gonna be by the time she was done. Splaying her fingers on her belly so that her fingers pointed downward, she began to drag them back up again, this time taking her breasts in her hands and massaging them, moaning as she did.

  Success. She was plenty hot, but he was in pain now. She bit her bottom lip again and swirled her fingers around the areolas, aware that she was still swaying her hips to the music. She stuck her index fingers in her mouth then, sucking on them as suggestively as she could, and then brought her wet fingers to her nipples, gasping when she did.

  She let out a long sigh and then lifted her skirt to hook her thumbs into the side of her coral-colored panties. She shimmied her hips as she worked them down, a motion that did nothing to get them off but everything for Jet’s hot state. And for the hell of it, she threw them at him when she was done. They landed on his chest and she saw his pecs heave, but his eyes were still on her.

  “Hmm. Still stuck there, huh? Shame you can’t join me.” She lifted her right leg and positioned it on the bed and then brought her hands to her knees, slowly moving up her thighs, bringing the skirt back up again. This time, though, her propped leg kept the skirt in place for the most part. She made sure she was spread a little wide so he could see her. Then she made a point of shoving the index and middle fingers of her right hand into her mouth. She sucked on them like she would his cock, even throwing in a guttural breath. She was pretty sure she was plenty wet, but it wouldn’t hurt, and she knew it would just add to the pain he was feeling. She held her thigh on the left side, along with keeping the skirt on that side a little higher, and then slid her fingers down her slit.

  Yeah, she was plenty slick, and if he thought he didn’t have anything to do with that, he was wrong. Oh, that delicious first stroke. “Oh, God, yeah. That’s what you might feel like.” She heard him groan then and she half opened her eyes to see his hands balled up into fists. That made her resolve that much stronger. She stroked again and gasped. She could make it last so long, or she could come quickly. She knew how to guide herself to sweet ecstasy every time, and she really wanted him to be inside her. Still, she didn’t want to deny the show she already started, so for a while, she just took her time and made as big a production of it as she could, gasping and moaning. When she got a little closer, she played with one of her breasts again too, and then she decided to bring it home. She changed the motion and rhythm, speeding it up. She made a point of gasping, “Oh, Jet,” just before, and then she moaned louder than usual as she gave in to the orgasm. At that point, she lost awareness of her surroundings and focused only on her clit, where untold pleasure undulated forth throughout her body. She knew she was being louder and louder but there was no stopping herself now.

  And then she felt spent and stopped, resting her chin on her chest, her breathing labored. As she got control of her body, she started to regret that move, because she was tired at that point. But she opened her eyes and looked up. Clay—or Jet, rather—was in a bad way. His cock was trapped inside his jeans and she could tell he was hurting. She wanted to tell him, Just a little more, but she didn’t want to shatter the illusion. She put her leg on the floor and finished unzipping the dress, letting it fall to the floor.

  She got up on the bed on her hands and knees, thinking Time to put my man out of his misery. The thought flashed momentarily, wondering why she was thinking of him as her man when she had honestly just thought of him as a toy or, rather, a playmate, someone to have fun with until later. And, yet, there was that thought, and she didn’t have time to analyze it. Instead, she decided to continue teasing him, and she kept her head low but looked at him. She wanted to look ravenous, because she felt that way. She wanted him inside her.

  She grabbed her panties off his chest and threw them to the floor and started kissing one of his nipples again, open mouthed, and licked him on her way to his face. His voice was low, almost a growl, when he said, “A hell of a show.”

  She smiled and buried him in a kiss. When she broke away, she said, “Shut up, you.” He smiled and almost laughed, but she could tell he was getting desperate. Still, she had a little more playing to do. She sat up some and eased her breast to his mouth. He took it in and she let out another sigh. She felt herself growing wet again, and that was a good sign, because she wanted him so badly. She started to sit up the rest of the way, but he leaned his head up and licked her other nipple. She paused, sighing, trying not to dig her nails into his chest so hard.

  She started moving down his body and he said, “Hold on. Come straddle over me up here.”

  “What?”

  He stuck his tongue out. Then he said, “Let me taste you.”

  She scrunched her nose and added next, her voice like a petulant child, “No.” She started sliding down his body again.

  “Emily…”

  Ooh. His voice sounded kinda firm. She liked it. But no way. She looked up at him and said, “No,” this time stronger as well. He raised his eyebrows and started to say something, but she yanked on his zipper. God, he was in there tight, and she knew he had to be hurting by now. She eased his cock out and then scooted down further, easing his jeans down a little more. She wrapped her hand around the girth of his cock and brought her face close. She breathed on him for a little, just letting him enjoy a little more torture. She could feel him throbbing against the palm of her hand, and she could see the liquid oozing out of his cock in anticipation of what was coming. She licked the tip like she would a sucker—long and slow. Then she took the head into her mouth and sucked on it. She didn’t want him to climax yet, though, so she let go of him and stretched out, partially over him and partially over the side of the bed until she could reach the nightstand where he kept the condoms.

  She opened the drawer and leaned forward a little more. She felt around and found one. She took it out and ripped the package open, throwing it to the ground. She slid the condom over his cock and then positioned herself over, and she glided down. She wasn’t ready for the torture to end, so she was going to move slowly for a while. She could tell he was close, though. She’d put him through the wringer, and he wasn’t going to last much longer. But she wasn’t either. He felt so perfect, the way her body molded to his as though they were meant to be together. She undulated her body over him, a slow up-and-down motion of waves, pulling him out and shoving him in, and she felt the quality of her breathing change again as she started climbing toward release.

  “Oh, God,” he said and then he let out a gust of air, giving into the ultimate pleasure he was feeling, and that was all i
t took for Emily’s orgasm to wash over her as well. She cried aloud, moving faster now, as they shared the moment. Emily could sense him throbbing inside her as she clenched against him, and it made her feel complete.

  After she finished, her breathing slowed and she rested her head on his chest, leaving him inside her. She wanted to just appreciate the moment before she had to get up and untie the ropes. For the moment, she wanted to feel as close as possible to this man, and she didn’t care what he wanted to call himself—Jet or Clay or something in between—because in spite of all she’d been doing to fight against it, she was starting to care very much for this man.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  GODDAMN, WAS THAT nice. Clay lay there, feeling quite satisfied. He’d asked Emily to play around with Jet, and she’d run with it. Hell, she’d gone above and beyond, way further than his expectations. His heart rate was finally slowing, and even though he wanted to hold her close, he was okay with just having her rest her head on his chest.

  Oh, but he wasn’t done with her yet. She just didn’t know it. So when she said, “I suppose I should untie you,” he nodded his head. She kissed him and then lifted herself off him. She slid off the bed. God, she was cute, the way she looked at him almost sheepishly, as if she were having second thoughts about what they’d done.

  The music was still playing, even though they’d been resting a few minutes. It energized him. He felt the rope loosen around his right wrist, and he started twisting it back and forth to speed up the process. She went to the other side of the bed and started untying it there, but he managed to get his right hand out of the ropes and used that hand to loosen the other one. By the time Emily had the other side unknotted, he was free. The first thing he did was pull the condom off and toss it in the trash can beside the bed.