With his free hand, he pulled an iPhone from his pocket. A thumb swipe, then the same thumb pressed the Contacts app. Three names down, he pressed on Nick’s name. Why call him? She had her answer when he put the phone on speaker.
Four rings were an eternity until… “Yeah.”
“Did you get her?”
Sounds of a struggle came through the phone. “Jane?” Jentry shouted. “Jane!” What the hell was he doing to her?
“I’m here, Jentry. I’m here.” Clear and strong, her voice came through the speaker.
Relief poured through Jentry, leaving her trembling and weak. “Ar-are you okay?”
“Um. Yeah. I’ll be fine.”
What did that mean? “Where are you? I’ll come get you.” She struggled to knock Harden’s hand away and push off from the wall. His hand remained on the center of her chest. Immovable.
“No. Don’t. Everything’s okay. I-I’ll call you later. In the morn—”
The phone went dead. Not because she hung up, but because Harden ended the call and tossed the phone away. It hit something hard and landed with a distinct clatter. She flinched as much from the noise as from the destruction. Their gazes met, locked in silent battle. If he expected her to wilt under the intensity of his anger, fuck that. She refused to wilt, not anymore.
His eyes narrowed into slits. “You slapped me.”
Her chin tipped up in defiance. “You slapped me.”
“You slapped me first.” He snarled.
“You deserved it.” She gloated. “You used me, and my sister.”
“I didn’t know your sister was in the building until I arrived.”
“So, you just used me.” Somehow that was worse when it should’ve been better.
His hand slid off her chest to brace on the wall. One, then the other. She was free yet caged by the proximity of his body and his hands bracketing her head. “I didn’t.”
“Liar.”
“You slapped me, threatened to kill me, and called me a liar all in one day. I’ve killed men for less.” His hand circled her throat. Carefully, his palm settled on her skin. The warmth of flesh on flesh seeped layers deep in a way it hadn’t seconds ago when he held her against the wall.
Fear, she was well acquainted with the emotion. Lived and breathed it for two years of her life. That’s not what she felt staring into his eyes whose icy heat smoldered. She felt reckless. The bear had already been poked and riled. He was out of his cave and had her in his sights. A tiny part of her, the sane part, the part that had weathered the storm and come out the other side with unwanted ink on her back, tried to rein her in, whispered for her to be wary, cautious.
At her core, the thing that made her tick, made her and her mother adversaries, had awakened. When? She had no idea. Could be it slumbered just under the surface of her consciousness waiting to reassert itself after gaining her freedom from Carl. Could be not worrying about where her next meal, next package of diapers, next paycheck was coming from allowed her to breathe and shed the oppressive cloak her life had become.
Before she’d never lived her life with the guard rail raised or the training wheels on. Speed limit? What speed limit? Carl had made her own the consequences of her rash decisions, while Allie made her slow down, buckle the seatbelt, and wear a helmet.
Harden’s gaze traveled down her body. Goose bumps erupted wherever his gaze caressed. She couldn’t blame the chilly temperature when her nipples peaked into headlights in her thin bra and shirt. It was her visceral reaction to his presence, an awareness of his proximity. A virile man, a bad boy. Soooo her type. Once Carl went to prison, she’d promised herself she’d date peace-loving, tree-hugging nerds who played video games, who LARPed every weekend for fun, who had brains and no brawn.
That description was not Harden Gage. Six foot four, blond, frigid blue eyes with a scar dissecting his right eyebrow, granite jaw with permanent five-o’clock shadow. Thick neck with broad shoulders a woman could hold onto combined with his muscular frame. The entire package tempted good girls to take a stroll on the wild side, the dark side. And bad girls—particularly reformed bad girls like her—didn’t just pitch caution to the wind. They saw the hurricane coming and pitched a tent in its path.
“So, what you gonna do?” Jentry pitched her tent.
One corner of his mouth curled.
Her heart lurched, along with her core.
The curl of his lips deepened, and she knew he’d just picked up the challenge she’d tossed down. She had no chance to reconsider the consequences when his mouth swooped down. Their lips collided; no other word did justice to the forces drawing them together. Without a thought, her mouth opened, welcoming his invasion, and invade he did. His tongue stroked deep with an unbridled urgency, licking into her mouth again and again. His taste was a shot of hard liquor to her blood stream, intoxicating and addictive. She wanted more, needed it. Hands that were pressed against his chest, pushing him away, now latched onto his lapels. She anchored him to her, her to him. Hell, who gave two shits as the moan came from nowhere and reverberated between them.
Harden captured her face between his hands. She should fight to free herself, but with his fingers in her hair, and his thumbs stroking along her jaw, there was no other place she wanted to be.
He yanked away, breaking the kiss. Bereft without the touch of his mouth, the taste of him on her tongue, the contact she suddenly craved, Jentry opened her eyes she hadn’t realized she’d closed to stare into his pale blue gaze.
Harden Gage kissed me.
She didn’t have a chance to be stunned at the unlikely reality because his lips coasted down her throat, licked her collarbone with a flick of his tongue, then coasted back up. His breath fanned her ear before he nipped the lobe. Her shallow pants turned into a low moan and she tipped her head back. Kisses along her jaw lead him back to her lips. This time, his kiss was rougher, hungrier. Her body responded, nipples hardening, pussy slickening, her muscles tense from anticipation. Yet, she clung to a sliver of reasoning. Which was lost when his hands palmed her ass like he owned it.
Her legs automatically circled his hips when he picked her up. She wrapped herself around him and held on. Where he was going, she didn’t care, not as long as his lips continued to travel from her mouth to her jaw to suck on her throat.
By the moans leaving her mouth, one would think she’d never had her throat licked, sucked, never been kissed like this. Yeah, she’d never been kissed like this. Not by a man like Harden Gage. A man who knew what he was doing. At least when it came to kissing. What else could he do she couldn’t help wonder with that hard body carrying her to an unknown destination.
Then her world tilted and her back hit the leather sofa. Harden rose above her. He peeled off his jacket and all she could focus on was the not-so-subtle ripple of his biceps, shoulders, pecs, abs under the shirt molded to his body.
The sofa was wide, more than comfortable enough for two horizontal bodies on display in front of a glass window. Harden noticed it at the same time. “Window block,” he said loudly. Thirty seconds later, the glass window transitioned from clear to completely dark.
They were alone. No witnesses. Nothing to halt what was about to happen.
Chapter Nineteen
Harden propped himself up on one elbow, bringing their bodies flush. Jentry was soft and firm all at the same time. Her breasts plush, her stomach flat, her hips and legs toned. But it was her face that had his complete focus. Her soulful eyes fringed with long lashes, her straight nose with her flared nostrils, her full, wine-colored lips, and her stubborn jaw, even the brown freckles, partially hidden under a layer of makeup, teased him. Later, when they were home, after she’d washed her face and it was clean and fresh, he’d kiss every single one.
Right now, he dipped his head to take her mouth again. He devoured her, his tongue working into the warm cavern of her mouth. It wasn’t her taste that kept him coming back for more, though the glide of her tongue against his was intoxicating. It
was her lips, her mouth, the soft cushion, the sexy curve of the lower lip with its slight indent in the center. Hungry for her, he licked at that indent, teasing it, teasing himself, then licked deep into her mouth. He took her mouth like he wanted to take her body, hard, no brakes until their moans mingled into a wail of mutual, all-consuming need.
She clung to him, her fingers anchored in his shirt, then his shoulders. When that wasn’t enough, her hands coasted to his chest, and her fingernails, like little claws, dug in. He hissed, the slight pain bringing a sharp dose of pleasure to the foreplay. His cock was hard, painfully.
He wasn’t done tasting her. Slanting his mouth over hers, he let one hand travel over her breasts. She arched into the touch, but that wasn’t his end game for the night. Oh no, he wanted to taste her, finally get her essence on his tongue, in his body.
He broke away, pleased at her swollen lips and glazed eyes. When she whimpered for more, he skated his hands up her thighs. The tights hid none of their softness, a softness he was already intimate with when he had her over his shoulder, twice. The first time, she was almost naked. Fuck, that was torture. The second time, worn yoga pants and an oversized sweater couldn’t shelter her curves or her soft body.
His hand slid beneath her skirt, first on the outside of her thigh, then the inside, near her knee. She was lucky he didn’t rip it from her body because this was the last time she’d wear it. No one got to ogle what belonged to him. No one. The time for denial was over. Jentry Playne was his.
Her gasp made him look away from the territory his hand claimed to meet her frightened brown eyes. Her pliant body tense, her breaths shortened. Her legs clamped together, trapping him. She was afraid, whether of him, what was happening between them, or herself, he hadn’t a clue. But he would find out.
CDJ.
That motherfucker!
He had an excellent idea of what he did to her. Yet, she wasn’t ruined, she wasn’t shattered. Harden had no doubt she’d been through hell. Like him, she was a survivor. Whatever she went through, she came out the other side stronger, braver, and wiser. She may be frayed around the edges, but she was here, in his arms. Apprehension flickered in the depths of her eyes, but she hadn’t shut down on him. She hadn’t pushed him away.
“Hey. It’s okay.” Bracing himself on his elbow, he leaned over her, and kept his hand on her quivering inner thigh.
God, he didn’t want to stop. If she’d let him, he’d pry her legs open, rip her panties from her pussy, and not come up for air until he’d rung several orgasms from her limp, sweaty body. Only then would he fuck her until he couldn’t stand.
She whimpered.
“Shh. You’re in charge.” His thumb drew circles on her thigh; however, he claimed no further territory. “You want me to stop, I’ll stop.” He brushed his lips over hers and stole another kiss. And another. Her hands came up and she threaded her fingers into his hair, owning the kiss, owning her pleasure. It was hers to grab with both hands and take. Or reject. One push and he would pry himself off her body.
Instead, the tension eased from her body. Once more her body was pliant beneath his. The vise she had on his hand between her knees relaxed, and he continued with the easy circles on her flesh, creeping forward ever so slowly. Her fingers clutched at him once more as he fed her his tongue while his hand crept to her core.
He stumbled over a frilly band on her upper thigh, then there was nothing but warm, soft skin. “What the—thigh highs?”
Shuddering against him, she nodded, and whispered, “It was all I had. It’s from my stripper stash.”
He’d take care of that tomorrow. There’d be no more scraping by or doing without. He stroked the smooth flesh and casually let a stray finger tease her panties. Whoa. They were damp. A quiet moan escaped from her while his cock jerked in his pants. “I want my tongue in your pussy. Let me drink you down.”
Her eyes widened. In rapid fashion, panic dashed across her face, followed by curiosity and lust. The truth hit him hard.
“You’ve never been eaten, have you?” It was a rhetorical question because the truth was all over her face. CDJ had used her, probably introduced her to sex for the first time, and didn’t even do it right. He didn’t give a shit.
He took a young girl and tattooed PROPERTY OF CDJ on her back. It wasn’t a stretch of the imagination to know what else he did to her. Whatever it was made her jaded. Made her strip and use her body for profit, but never for her own pleasure.
Harden had plans for when he finally met Mr. CDJ. All of them bloody.
He let the bloody thoughts drift away and palmed Jentry’s core, let the damp material soak his hand. Her eyelids fluttered and her legs fell open. “You’re a virgin.”
Her eyes flew open and she burst out laughing. “Allie’s not adopted. I have the stretch marks to prove it.”
He tugged her panties to the side and touched her smooth, hairless sex. Not even peach fuzz tickled his skin. He approved and couldn’t wait for his tongue to meet her delicate flesh. “You’ve never had your pussy eaten, petted, licked, until you exploded with a tongue buried inside you sopping up every drop of your sweet cum. In that sense, you’re a virgin.”
Her entire body quivered at his low, husky voice.
“But not after tonight.” Parting her slick folds, he zeroed in on her clit. He stroked the throbbing bundle of nerves so gently, across, up, down, and around. Her hips jerked at each touch.
“Fuck.” She panted and tilted her hips for better access.
“You like that. Me rubbing your pussy, Jentry.” He slid his finger down and slipped it inside her tight core. He pumped once, twice, then brought his drenched finger to his hungry mouth. He groaned at the taste. She was sweet, like nectar on his tongue, and it wasn’t enough. Eyes half slitted, she watched him lick his finger clean. He returned his clean finger to her pot for more honey, this time adding another, and bringing his thumb to play with her clit.
She rode his hand, her hips setting a smooth rhythm, tiny moans escaping when his fingers went deep. He had her where he wanted her, open and panting for him, but he wanted more. She whimpered when he removed his hand from her tight pussy and clit. She wanted to come, and he’d let her, but only with his head buried between her soft thighs.
“Let me eat your pussy.” His voice was husky, hungry. Eyes glazed, lips parted, she panted, but didn’t tell him to stop. Harden didn’t take her non-answer as permission to rip her panties off and bury his head in her wet pussy and ravish her the way he burned to. He did take that as permission to go slow.
Hooking the sides of her panties, he gave a slight tug and waited for Jentry to lift her hips. Pleased when she did, he whisked the cotton panties over her curves, down her legs, and tossed them aside.
Her legs snapped closed. “Wait.”
He nodded, but rested his chin on her knees while he stroked from her thighs to her ass. “Talk to me. Tell me what you want.” He kissed her knees, one then the other. “You want me to stop, I’ll fetch your panties, slide them back up your thighs. But I don’t want to. And you don’t want me to either. You want to show me your pretty pussy. You want me to lick your pussy until you come all over my face. Let me be your first time. Give me that honor.” He dragged his tongue over her knees, felt her quiver, and waited.
Chewing on her bottom lip, she let her legs slowly part. Harden kept his gaze locked on her as he kissed his way up her covered thighs until he met the frilly bands and bare skin. A tremble went through her entire body as his breath coasted across her flesh. He teased her, alternating between licks and nips, until one leg draped the back of the sofa, and the other on his shoulder. She lay completely open to him.
Her pussy was so pretty. Plump and dewy, the same color as her thighs. But the inside, oh, that was pink, inviting, glistening with her essence, anticipating that first lick from his tongue. He tasted with a long drag to her pink flesh and groaned as it enveloped his senses. Her taste was a fucking narcotic. Addictive and his new favorite de
ssert.
She jolted at the first touch, then arched her back and bucked against him as Harden settled in and licked into her body. Her fingers gripped his hair, holding him to her, as if he planned on getting away. Harden had no plans to go anywhere, not until she screamed his name, and her juices coated his face.
He settled in, stretched out and made himself comfortable as if the world weren’t waiting on the other side of the door for them to emerge. Let them wait because he was eating Jentry’s pussy, and not even God himself would rush him.
He slid his hands under her ass and wrapped her up like a present, his present because she wasn’t going anywhere until he was done.
He glided his tongue along her flesh, the broad side tasting every bit of her before swirling around her clit. He lapped up her arousal, swirling it around the hard, little nub, then took a lazy stroll to her core. Her entire body trembled, and she whimpered. Fucking music to his ears, but it wasn’t enough. He feasted on her inner folds, licking and sucking on them gently, teasing her flesh as he skated around her opening and clit. Never giving her enough until her fingers dug into his scalp and her hips rocked in a lewd pantomime. He ate her like he hadn’t had a meal in ten days, and he wouldn’t stop until he’d gorged.
She shuddered and he backed off, refusing to let her come. Not yet, damn it. He wasn’t done feasting. Her legs locked around his head. He nipped her inner thigh with a sharp bite. She jerked but got the point and let her legs flop open.
“Good girl.” He gave praise when praise was due.
“Please,” she begged, though he suspected she hadn’t a clue what came out of her mouth.
“Words, baby. Tell me you want me to suck your clit and fuck your pussy ’till you explode.” He used a finger to rim her core while his tongue did the same to her clit. “Tell me or I stop right now.” He went back to work making her unravel.
Stuttering, she said, “Suck my clit and fuck my pussy, please. Right now, please.”
Plain Jane and Mr. Wrong (Plain Jane Series Book 4) Page 14
