Jackson let out a low guttural groan. “You’re not going to let me out of this, are you?”
She licked him again, like a lollypop. “Do you really want me to?”
“God, no.” His grip on her wrists popped open, and he buried his hands in her hair.
Smart man.
Cait closed her lips over his cock, pushed down, and sucked him deep into her mouth, so deep the smooth mushroom head bumped the back of her throat. So deep he shuddered and his fingers dug into her scalp. Sliding him in and out, mixing delicate scrapes of her teeth with some creative tongue action, she sucked him till he exploded like a firecracker, till she’d milked him dry and swallowed every drop.
Jackson collapsed backward, gasping for air.
Hah! So much for control.
In smug triumph, she straddled his hips and leaned forward, giving him a stupendous view of her breasts—but with his eyelids seared shut he hadn’t noticed that yet. She braced her right hand against his shoulder; her left hand still cupped him.
Like a deep-sea diver hauling up from the ocean floor, Jackson pulled himself out of a post-orgasmic stupor. His eyes opened to the sight of Cait’s tits staring at him point blank.
He stared back.
“Be a good boy, and I may let you suck them,” she said.
“
What
?” His eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed with razor-edged amusement. “Hey, listen, princess, I don’t take orders. I give them.”
“Not this time.” She squeezed his balls to let him know she meant business.
He made a strangling noise and grabbed her ribcage, his thumbs sliding under her breasts. His eyes took on a glacial glint, like black ice. Very carefully, he enunciated each word. “Cait, you are looking for trouble.”
“Mmm, I think I found some, too.” Her grip shifted to his shaft. “You’re starting to get hard again. This is turning you on.”
It was turning her on, she knew that. Or was it the low note of threat in his tone, the hint of danger in his gaze that sent an electric thrill down her spine?
He smiled, a sinister slash of white teeth. “I’m getting hard because I’m thinking about how I’m going to fuck your hot cunt in a few minutes.”
His thumbs swept over her nipples, and her vaginal muscles clenched.
Gulp...
She may have bitten off more than she could chew.
Cait’s thighs quivered, but she was damned if she’d forfeit the game so easily. She stared down her nose at him. “Uh-uh. Not until I say so.”
“Don’t push your luck.” The hands on her tightened, not to hurt, but firm enough to show he could if he wanted. His whisper rasped her like sandpaper. “I can be very gentle…or not. But, believe me, I can make you like it either way. In other words, sweetheart, let go of my nuts. Now. Or suffer the consequences.”
He pulled her closer, drew the peak of one tit into his mouth and suckled, then switched to the other and nipped. Both actions, soft and sharp, sent torrid tingles shooting into her core.
Okay, okay, she believed him. Sheesh.
She let go of his balls, but only because she was too tempted to rip them off, and… Well, in the long run, they’d do her more good where they were. She might be pissed, but she wasn’t stupid. Besides, it allowed her to use both fists to pound on his shoulders and chest.
“Damn you, Jackson Storm. Why does everything always have to be
your
way?”
“Because you like my way.”
“You liked my way just as much. Or did I hallucinate that
malted milkshake
I just swallowed?”
“Yes, I liked your way. A man would have to be dead, buried and decomposing to
not
like your way. But now it’s my turn.”
She sputtered and choked as he sat up, caught her arms and anchored them behind her, locking both her wrists in his left hand. His right hand buried in the tumble of curls at the base of her skull and tugged back her head, exposing her throat to an ungodly open-mouthed mauling that sent hypnotic heat swirling through her, and let her know why the vampires’ victims in the movies always gave in so easily.
Damn, this was jalapeno hot. But scary. She panted and made little mewling and hissing sounds, like a frightened, angry kitten.
Muscled arms contracted. The fist in her hair firmed its grip. With steady pressure, which created little pain, not like a yank would have—not that she had enough working brain cells right then to notice—Jackson pulled her more squarely onto his lap and pushed her snug against his groin, so his newly established erection slid horizontally through her folds and rubbed her clit. Now
that
she noticed. She moaned and squirmed and bit her tongue to keep from crying out.
“Cait, relax. I’m not going to hurt you. It’s just so much fun to tease you and make you
think
I am, I can’t help myself.” Jackson chuckled. “Hell, I haven’t even put any hickeys on your neck—though I’ve been sorely tempted.”
He was Satan’s spawn! An evil, evil man.
While she bordered on hyperventilating, he let go of her wrists to fish out another plastic packet, tear it open with his teeth, and thumb out the condom. Real macho. She was too weak by that time to resist. Too resigned to her fate.
And too goddamned aroused.
Help me, Lord…
This guy was ruthless.
“Lift your hips, babe, just for a sec.” A gentle tug on her hair urged her upward, off him, and he sheathed himself. Then her hair was released, and both his hands were on her waist, lowering her onto his cock.
“
Oooooh
…” A low groan escaped her as he drove in deep. For a devil, he felt like one wowzer of a big piece of heaven. Her eyes closed, her head tilted back, and she clutched his shoulders. Suddenly all she wanted was to ride him to the moon.
Wouldn’t you know he wouldn’t let her.
“Don’t move.” Those strong hot hands held her glued to his groin. “Do. Not. Move.”
Aw no…no…
She almost strangled him in frustration. “You and your fucking dominance.” Or should that be “dominant fucking”? Whatever. It sucked at this particular moment. And not in the good way. Her fingers dug into the flesh above his collarbone, itching to grab his throat. Her words came out in a whimper. “God, I hate you.”
“So you keep saying. Why don’t I believe it?”
Her breath caught on a sob. “Because I don’t believe it either.” She crumpled forward and wrapped her arms about his neck, burying her face against the side of his head. “It’s just that you make me so friggin’ mad. If you want to fuck me, then fuck me, for chrissake. Stop torturing me. I’m ready to explode.”
“I know. And that’s exactly why we’re going to sit here, very still, until we’ve got it under control. Because the longer we can hold off the explosion, the bigger and better it feels.” His arms wound around her waist, pulling her tighter.
Heavy hot ache burned in her belly. To feel him pressed against her, and inside her…so sensual, so solid…and so still…
Groan.
This was like something out of the Spanish Inquisition.
Very soft and light, Jackson kissed the tender spot where her shoulder met her neck. “You’re beautiful, Cait. Maybe I’ve never said so before, but I’ve always thought it.” His husky whisper sent warm shivers dancing over nerve ends.
Her ache increased. “I want to move, damn it.”
“Shh…not yet. I’ll tell you when.”
I’ll tell you something now.
With body language.
She gripped him with inner muscles and squeezed.
It earned her a pinch on the ass. “Ow!”
“I
said
I will tell you when.”
“Who died and left you in charge?”
“I’m in charge because I’m good at it.”
“And I’m not?” She lifted her head to glare at him.
He answered with a sexy stare, his eyes half closed—sexy and sure of it. “You’re
awesome
. Which is why I want to prolong this moment.” His hand smoothed over her bottom and rubbed the cheek he’d pinched. “Now, hold still—everywhere—or I’ll delay the main event even longer. And I’ll do bad, dirty things to you while we wait.”
He whispered some of those things in her ear.
He was right. They were dirty.
Cait’s breath went ragged. She clenched her teeth to stop herself from clenching anything else. How much more could she stand? The forced immobility all by itself was becoming a huge turn-on. Jackson obviously knew that. Cait knew a lot, too—could finally admit she’d been madly in love with him for years. Granted, till now, the emphasis had always been on the “mad,” but they’d broken through the anger today and reached a new level of understanding it seemed. Giving in to their pent-up passions had worked a fuckin’ miracle…so to speak.
He gripped her hips and started pushing up into her with short even strokes, until she caught the rhythm and lifted and sank to meet him on each one. Then the strokes grew longer, deeper…smooth and sweet as thick cream… Super yummy.
Cait surrendered to the motion. It was dreamy, like a choreographed dance, a perfect, harmonious blending of hearts and bodies and souls. She could almost swear she heard music…
The Rolling Stones’ “Play With Fire”? Almost too appropriate. It might have been a manifestation of the sex. An audio illusion spawned by Jackson’s hypnotic style of loving?
With a start, she realized the song actually was playing. It came from the rec room directly below the bedroom.
Aw shit, they weren’t alone anymore. Maybe one of the maids had returned for something. Piss-poor timing, Cait thought.
“Jackson”—she clenched fingers on his biceps—“someone’s in the house.”
“Shh…” He hushed her without ever missing a stroke, kissing a sizzling line over her jaw, up to her ear, then down her neck to her collarbone and across her shoulder. Between the nips and nuzzles, he explained. “It’s Sam. He likes music, so I taught him how to turn on the stereo. It’s just two buttons, power and play. He pushes them with his nose. Providing I’ve remembered to leave a CD in the drive for him, the trick works, and he thinks he’s done something way cool. I put in the Stones’ CD this morning…feeling a little nostalgic, I guess, because of the reunion.”
He glanced up meet her eyes. “Do you remember our senior prom?”
“I still have nightmares about it.” She gave a mock shudder. In a democratic vote by their class—a vote she was still convinced Jackson had somehow rigged, though he’d never admit it—he and she, captain of the football team and head cheerleader, had been elected king and queen of the prom.
“It wasn’t that bad.” A sudden quick thrust drove his dick in deeper.
Her breath caught on a gasp. “Yes, it was. After the crowning ceremony we had to slow dance—just the two of us with everyone watching—and you kept putting your hands on my tits and ass.”
“Yeah.” His mouth curled up at one corner into the crooked grin he saved for her and her alone. “We danced to this song, ‘Play With Fire.’ And I was so hard by the end of it, I barely made it off the dance floor without limping.”
“It served you right for groping me in front of the entire senior class.”
“There’s no one watching now.” His hand smoothed up her side, caressed her in one sweep from thigh to breast. “Ever since that night, I’ve wondered what it would be like loving you to this song. How about it, sweetheart? Shall we play with some fire?”
“As combustible as you and I are, Jackson Storm, I thought we already were.”
“Ah, but I have a feeling things will be getting a whole lot hotter from here on out.”
Mmm
…he was probably right.
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