He swats my ass. It stings, and I jump. He makes an approving sound. “I like the way my handprint looks there.” And he swats me again.
My first instinct is to tell him to stop, but I realize I don’t want him to. It hurts, yes, but not that much, and with everything that’s thrumming through my body right now, it’s just one more heightened sensation that’s weaving in with all the others, building to another climax, even though I’m still not convinced that’s possible.
“You like that?” he asks me, though, and I have to decided how to answer.
“Maybe,” I say, sounding a little coy.
Predictably he laughs and swats me again. “We can try a few more times until you decide. But first…” He grabs my hair and pulls my head up so I have to look at myself in the mirror over the sink. “Look at that,” he says. “Look at your face. You’re all red, all flushed. Look at your eyes.”
I look. My pupils are blown, my hair mussed, my cheeks flushed. I look like I’ve been fucked within an inch of my life, and he hasn’t even started yet.
“Beautiful,” he says. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful. Especially like this. I should take you out around town on my arm looking like this. Like you’ve just had the fuck of your life and you want it again. Like you’re a bitch in heat, just waiting to feel my dick again.”
I can feel his erection through his jeans, hard and insistent against my bare ass. The denim rubs a little uncomfortably against the spot where he spanked me. I should want to slap him like I wanted to slap Carmine. But I don’t. I just want more. More of his filthy mouth, more of his body, his cock.
I hear his zipper going down behind me, then he’s back against me again, only cotton underwear between that hot, hard erection and my skin. He shifts back and forth, easing the length of his dick between my ass cheeks. Then he touches my asshole, just tapping it with the tip of his finger.
“I want this,” he says, his voice low. “I want to fuck your ass ’til you scream.”
I tense. I’m not sure whether it’s from anticipation or something closer to fear. My emotions are tangled and so raw I’m having a hard time sorting them all out. But then he leans forward and presses his lips against the back of my ear. “Scream for me to do it over and over again.” He licks the back of my neck. “It’ll hurt a little, maybe, but I promise you’ll like it.”
I have my doubts. But the hot waft of Cain’s breath against my neck makes me shiver, and so does the sensation from his finger tapping my ass. My hands clench on the porcelain sink.
“Sloooow,” he says, his voice imitating the meaning of the word. “Slow and easy, and then, once you’re used to it, hard and fast until you won’t even be able to remember your own name. You want that, right? You want me fucking your little ass so hard.” His finger pushes a little harder, but he still doesn’t try to get inside.
And then I hear myself say, “Okay,” and I wonder what in the world Cain McAllister has done to me. Some kind of witchery. A spell. I don’t think there’s anything he could ask of me that I would say no to. Not now. Certainly not regarding sex. My body’s his. All of it.
He gives me another slap on the ass, this one a bit softer than the previous ones. He opens the medicine cabinet.
I just stand there waiting for him. My pussy feels thoroughly used from his fingers in it before, and it also feels like it wants more. As much as it can get. Everything.
I hear rustling. He’s taking his clothes off, I can tell. I look up into the mirror again just as he shucks off his shirt. The tats on his chest and arms are bright in the light of the bathroom. He reaches for his jeans. They’re unzipped and open, but not off him yet. He pushes them off along with his underwear and I let my gaze drag down his body, over that tight, cobbled abdomen, the line of hair that wanders down the middle of it, widening to a triangle-shaped nest around his hard, bobbing cock.
“Like what you see?” he asks me, smirking. He strikes a little pose. He’s got a tube in his hand—lube, I realize and shiver a little. He’s really going to do it.
“I have to say that, yes, I do believe I do.” I try to sound offhand, flip, but my stomach is doing somersaults. I’m having a hard time separating excitement from anxiety. I look at the tube of lube again and swallow.
He sees what I’m doing and holds the lube out, displaying it like he’s on a game show. “This is the secret to everything,” he tells me. “Now, I want you to watch us in the mirror. Spread your legs.” His voice is quiet but brooks no argument. I do exactly what he says.
And I wait.
Not long though. A moment later his chest is against my back and he’s kissing my shoulders, using his teeth on me again, biting along the expanse of my back, and nipping my nape. I lock my eyes to my own reflection, watching his head move as he helps himself to me. His hand touches me, cool and slick with lube, and a finger slips inside.
I jump a little. It’s more from the chilliness of the lube, though, than from the still only slight penetration. It’s tight and feels a little strange, but I’m okay with it. He pushes in a bit deeper, and then slides out, then back in. Slow, easy, like he said.
“There,” he murmurs against the back of my neck. “See? Not so bad, right?”
I have to nod, because he’s right. Not only is it not so bad, I’m realizing I like it. There’s a deep, burning sensation that’s nothing like having his fingers in my pussy. What will his dick feel like in there? I start to cream up just thinking about it. In the mirror, I see my cheeks flushing darker again, my pupils widening.
“There we go.” His words are still soft, encouraging, but his hand moves a little faster, the movement a little rougher, and he bites at my shoulders again. His eyes meet mine in the mirror, and I can see he’s smiling a little. He keeps riding that line, holding me on a knife’s edge between pleasure and pain, making sure that when I fall, I always land on the side of pleasure. I can trust him with this, too, can’t I?
Whether I can or not, I’m going to. I have no choice at this point. He’s drawn me into a dark, deep spiral of need, of want, and I’ve reached a point where I’m not sure I’ll be able to remember how to breathe if I don’t have his hands on me, his fingers inside me. His cock.
He adds another finger, pressing deep, and I gasp again at the moment of stretching pain as my body adjusts. No, not really pain. Pressure. A raw, dark feeling of being utterly possessed. Redness starts to blink into my vision, then black. He starts to thrust with his fingers. I ride with it, and when he finally withdraws, I can’t help a soft noise of protest.
“Shhh,” he says, and then he reaches around me and clasps both of my breasts in his hands as he presses his cock inside me.
There’s a split second where I wish I hadn’t said okay. It’s a spear of near-pain, and I choke a little on a cry, but then he’s in, then in deeper, and then he’s thrusting and I do cry out, but it’s for an entirely different reason.
His fingers play with my nipples as he thrusts. His eyes are holding mine in the mirror, and there’s no way I can move, no way I can get away from him. I tip my hips back, and he takes this as the invitation it is. And moves faster.
Within seconds he’s pounding me hard. I feel so full and so empty at the same time, and he’s thrusting harder and faster, deeper, and I feel like I’m on fire.
Suddenly he pinches one nipple hard, then lets go of it and reaches around me. The second his fingers touch my clit, fireworks explode, and I scream. I’m nothing but the pulsing, clutching, demanding sensation pouring through my body, the orgasm unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. And I thought the last climax was as much as I could take. This one doubles, triples it, riding waves of pain, pleasure, pressure, and sheer ecstasy.
Cain bites my shoulder. I feel his body go taut, and in the mirror I see his eyes close. Suddenly he’s pulsing inside me, his come spurting hot. A low growl comes from him, and his fingers holding my breast clutch so tight it hurts.
We’re bound together there for a long moment, unabl
e to escape from the wrenching pleasure. Finally I start to feel myself breathing again, and his body loosens a little, easing away from me. He’s still for a long few seconds, then he drags in a slow breath.
“Jess,” he says, and nothing else.
I meet his eyes in the mirror. We’re both quiet for a long time, and then I remember why we’re here together in the first place. Because my father sent his men to teach Cain a lesson.
Shit.
“Cain…” I start, but he shakes his head as if he can tell I’m about to say something serious and he doesn’t want to hear it.
“Shower,” he says, and draws me away from the sink.
I let him lead me into the shower and watch while he adjusts the water. I feel wobbly, like my legs might not hold me, but they don’t give out. When the water starts to fall on us, it feels so good I move into Cain’s arms, letting him hold me while the steam rises.
After a few long seconds with water running down over us both, I lift my head from his chest and lick a rivulet from his tattooed pec—right off the lion’s scowling face. Then I reach behind him and take a bar of soap off the little shelf in the corner.
He watches, curious but not trying to stop me. I run the soap over his chest, down his belly, to the root of his cock. Gently I lather him up, cleaning his shaft. Then I remember he’s not so much into gentle. So I let my nails move over his delicate skin, scratching lightly at the protruding veins.
His head goes back and he lets out a satisfied rumble. I scrub him clean, squeeze him until he’s semi-hard, then go to my knees.
“Ah, Jess,” he says, the words so quiet I can barely hear them. As I take him into my mouth, he slides a hand into my hair.
I have no idea if he can come again so soon, but his cock sure seems up to it, hardening quickly in my mouth. I take him in as deep as I can, teeth scraping but not too hard. I know he likes it rough, but men can be fussy about their dicks. For good reason, I suppose. I roll my tongue around the head, feeling the heat grow there, then I open my mouth, letting some of the shower water come in, then closing my lips again around his rock-hard shaft.
He seems to be holding back, so I reach around him and clasp his buttocks, pulling him a little closer and urging him to thrust. He does, carefully, but then quickens the pace as I pull him deeper and deeper into my throat. I swallow around the head and then let him slide out, back in again. It becomes a steady rhythm, and I start to lose myself in it.
“Jess, Jess,” he says suddenly, his fingers pulling at my hair like he wants me to pull off. But I keep him where he is, cock head at the very back of my throat, and I swallow as he comes.
We finish showering and dry off then slide naked into bed together. It’s nice there, just lying there under the blankets, his arms around me. The heat of his body dispels the chill of the after-shower coolness of my skin.
Exhausted, I try to pull myself back together, but it’s hard to breathe, and I literally hurt from his relentless pounding, from his hands digging into me. Not that I’m complaining. I’m riding a wave of post-climax adrenaline and anger. Not at Cain. At everything else. Everything that closes us both in.
I press my face against the hard slope of his chest. With my ear against him, I can hear his heart beating in a content, even rhythm. The soft hair between his pecs, and his skin, with its lines and patterns of ink, is still damp. He smells of soap.
“Cain… We can’t go on like this.” The words are soft, and I’m not sure when I decided to say them. As they come out of my mouth, I wonder what I’m going to say next.
He makes a low noise, sort of an acknowledging grunt. I can’t tell from the sound of it if he’s agreeing with me or not. His hand comes up and tangles in my hair, then his fingers slip down my bare back. I wonder what he’s thinking. He’s not looking at me; his attention is somewhere else.
“He’s going to kill you,” I go on. The prospect makes my throat thicken. “He’s already shown you what happens when you cross him. And now you’ve crossed him again.”
His head moves now, rolling toward me so he’s looking me in the face. I think maybe he’s listening now. I’d give every penny I own to know what’s going on inside that head of his right now.
“Do you get what I’m telling you, Cain? He’s going to kill you. This was just a warning.”
“Yeah. I get that.” His voice is low, almost a monotone, like he doesn’t care one way or another. “So what the fuck am I supposed to do about it?”
“Marry me.”
His eyes narrow. I know he’s already told me pretty much what he thinks of this plan, but things are worse now. Pop knows Cain and I are sleeping together, and he’s laid down the law. “No,” Cain says. “It’s a stupid idea.”
I lever myself up over him, one hand in the middle of his chest, looking him right in the face, willing him to understand. “It’s not stupid. He won’t kill you if you’re married to me. If we make it legal, there’ll be nothing he can do. He can’t force me to marry Carmine then, and if you’re my husband… Well, it’ll give you some protection.”
It’s his turn to lever himself up, pushing to a half-sitting position, looking at me like I’ve completely lost my mind.
“Jess, it’s nuts. And I’m not going to do it.”
“Why is it nuts? I marry you, I get out from under Pop’s thumb. I don’t have to worry about Carmine anymore. You marry me, and you’re his son-in-law. You’re family. You get that? Family.”
“Honest to God, Jess, it doesn’t seem to me like your dad treats his family much better than he treats anybody else.”
He has a point, but I shake my head. “No. You’re a man. It’s different. And he’s old-school Catholic. Once we’re married, that’s it. No divorce. No nothing.”
“Annulment?”
“Yeah, but then he’d have to prove we never consummated the marriage, and good luck with that.”
“He could force you to do it. Force you to lie.”
I don’t want to hear any of these objections. They all make sense, but so does my plan. I know once I’ve got another man who’s “responsible” for me, Pop will loosen the reins, hand them over to Cain. I won’t be under his control anymore, and Cain will be in a completely different relationship with the Spada family in general. I can tell, though, that I’m not getting through to Cain.
“He won’t. You have to trust me on this, Cain.”
He shakes his head again, sharper this time, and sits all the way up, swinging his legs off the side of the bed. “No. I’m not going to tie myself down just to get out of this mess with your dad.”
“He’s going to kill you.”
“Yeah, let him try. I’m not going to marry some hot piece of ass because I’m scared of him.”
I swallow, my heart sinking. “I thought I was more than that to you.”
He gives me another look, this one evaluating. “Jess. This was never anything but a fling. Your way to throw a big, fat middle finger at your father. Don’t try to tell me it was ever anything else.”
The sad part is, he’s right. That’s exactly how I saw it at the beginning. But I’m not quite seeing it the same way now. Something about Cain has crawled under my skin, and I don’t want to let him go.
“It’s the best way out.” I can’t put as much force into my voice anymore, knowing he’s not taking me seriously. “For both of us.”
“It’s no way out.” His eyes smolder as he gets up and heads back toward the bathroom as if I don’t even exist.
“Fine, then!” I throw the words after him as hard and sharp as I can. “You’re just going to take it? You’re just going to roll over and be his little lapdog until he decides to kick you to death? Is that what you want? God, Cain. I thought you were better than that. I thought you were more of a man than that.”
He looks at me, and his eyes are distant. Cold.
“I think you ought to go home.”
Well. That’s it, then. At least now I know what he thinks of me.
&nbs
p; With as much dignity as I can muster, I gather my clothes and head for home.
5
Cain
I watch Jess do her walk of shame, and there’s a twinge of guilt as I do it. Maybe I shouldn’t have come down on her quite so hard. But she’s been making me think, and I’m not sure I like the way I’m thinking. What if marrying her is the best way out of this mess? For both of us?
Finally I do what I always do when I can’t figure out what the fuck to do about something. I head for the gym.
My usual trainer’s there—Paul, who’s a good guy even though he’s mixed up in the mob. But if anybody knows how easy it is to get mixed up in the mob, it’s me. In fact, I’m usually surprised when I meet somebody in the LA MMA circuit who isn’t mixed up in the mob somehow. Perspective, I guess.
“You look rough,” Paul says. I figure I do, what with the ass kicking I took yesterday. Spada’s goons fucked me up worse than I let on, but I didn’t want Jess to know that. Though sex has healing properties, I’ve found. Especially sex with Jess.
I give Paul a grin that’s probably more teeth than anything else. “Yeah, you could say that.”
He frowns. “That’s not all from the fight.”
“Don’t go there,” I say quietly, and he drops it. I can tell from the quick flash in his eyes that he gets it. Knows exactly where those bruises came from.
“So why are you here this early?”
“Need to train, what else?” I put a good amount of “duh” in my tone. “Looks like I’ve got a fight in a few weeks.” I haven’t gotten the final schedule from Spada yet, but I know he has it in the works. What he doesn’t know is that it’s going to be my last fight for him. As soon as I know when it’s going to be, I can start making my final plans.
Hot as Sin (Contemporary Romance Box Set) Page 49
