A Brutal Tenderness (13 page)

I watch her expressive eyes go round from my words, but
Jewell says nothing. Instead, she looks at a spot on my neck,
those blue pools of her soul traveling, and I realize she’s
following the pattern of ink on my body.

My eyes never leave hers as I grab a condom from my
dresser, tearing the packaging off with my teeth and unrolling it
on my dick, the thing throbbing with a life of its own.

I crawl on my hands and knees over Jewell, rolling off the
scrap of panties from underneath her, and her eyes widen
anxiety at the sight.

She’s gotten a load of my cock. It’s not the first time I’ve
seen the look, but it’s the first time I’ve given a shit.
“Cas,” Jewell begins, her eyes looking at me, then lowering
to what was going to be inside her in moments. “I can’t,” she
says softly, the desire as strong as her denial of it.
“You can and you will, Jess,” I say with certainty as the tip
of me kisses the wet warmth at the core of her and my breath
releases in a soft hiss. It feels so fucking good I want to weep
from the sheer sensation of it.
I meet her eyes, knowing I’ve done the prep. “I’ll go slow,” I
promise. It’ll be all for Jewell, because right now it’s a staccato
rhythm in my head to sink my prick, bury it to the hilt. It’s
a primal directive all males have when the deepest part of a
woman is open before them.
I rein my shit in, entering her slowly. I can’t stop the groan
that seeps out from my clenched lips, “Ah  .  .  .” I try to relax
into how awesome she feels, how tight . . . how wet. The effort
not to come is all-consuming, my dick throbbing with the want
of it.
“Jesus, Jess . . .” I whisper my fear, “I’m not gonna last inside
you . . . so tight, you’re so tight,” I say as I give a gentle rock,
deepening our contact as I give her body time to accept what
I’m giving.
Jewell moves subtly beneath me, spreading her legs wider to
accommodate me, and I just about go right then. But I don’t, I
slow, looking into her face, elbows planted alongside her torso
as I stare into her eyes, palming her face on either side, as the
tip of me is almost to the end of her.
Jesus  .  .  . fuck  .  .  . she’s so got me. I feel that falling
sensation, but this time I land.
I land into Jewell, my barrier against her, my anger at her
involvement in Faith’s murder slipping away to be replaced by
feelings I never expected to experience.
I move inside her, the epiphany of my emotions burning
inside my brain, behind my eyelids, as I slowly pull out of
Jewell and repeat the motion and she groans as she meets my
deep thrusting with a small uplift or her hips. And all the time
I secure our intimacy by cradling her face in my hands. Jewell’s
got my fucking heart for the taking, though she’s unaware. I
bury my body inside hers, yet the feelings I have for her don’t
leave. I surge forward, tapping her deepest entrance, while
the wounds inside me are erased by her body, her love . . . her
existence.
I watch the same emotions crowd her face: vulnerable, raw,
and exposed, as another orgasm crowds out the feeling for the
rush of release in a single deep pulse and she gasps, her breath
held.
“That’s right, Jess . . . just One. More. Time,” I say as I push
myself inside her with a singular press. I feel myself go and
we explosively gasp together. I feel like I’m coming from my
toenails as the orgasm tackles me from the ground up. I shout
my release and give a final swivel with my hips as her heat
clenches around me like a velvet fist and another pulse throbs
inside her, squeezing my cock in her delicious tightness.
Large, half-lidded eyes meet mine, and Jewel’s limp limbs
as they twine around my larger ones rest in satiated repose. She
gives a soft laugh and brings my face to hers for a languid peck
that deepens.
I’ve never felt this level of contentment in my life. I gaze
down at Jewell, who’s wearing a grin on her face. She reaches
up and her thumb rasps over the stubble on my chin as wetness
squeezes out of her eyes. Not tears of sadness, but rightness.
This eases the tightness in my chest, as it would with all men
when they know they’ve given a woman all they had to give . . .
and discover she likes what you’ve done.
“Thank you, Jess,” I say, though she doesn’t know what those
loaded two words really mean. I’m thanking her for way more
than mind-blowing sex. Jewell is so much more than that to
me. She’s my catharsis.
She’s dangerous
, my mind reminds me.
Too fucking late
, I
answer back and grin at her. Her response to our time together
is completely spontaneous and contagious.
As I soften inside her, I gently pull out, her body capturing
me as I do and I give a low chuckle. “It’s like you’re custommade for me,” I say as I run a finger down her face from temple
to jaw. It’s somehow unreal to me that random circumstances
can change your life. I can’t stop the smile that becomes a grin.
Jewell smiles back at me, but it looks a little sad, and I
suddenly wonder what she’s thinking. I brush the tears from
her eyes, smiling down at her, feeling loose and comfortable,
my stress shelved for the moment.
“Those are good tears, right?” I ask, and she nods quickly.
“I’ve . . .” Her eyes sweep down, then move to mine again.
“It’s been a long time since I let myself become involved,”
Jewell says in a tight voice, steadfastly watching my hand play
up and down her side.
“Why not?” I ask, feeling flattered as hell that she chose me,
knowing why she hasn’t made the move for the two years she’s
been hiding.
What Jewell says surprises me. Her eyes are on me with that
piercing honesty. “I had to have something worth sacrificing
for,” she says.
“What sacrifice?” I ask, though I know. Loss of anonymity
has a high price tag.
“Everything,” she answers in a whisper, and I know why
Jewell’s sad, but I don’t press. Can’t. I’ve already claimed too
much honesty without giving enough myself. We stare deeply
into each other’s eyes and I still want to know more.
I never used to wonder what chicks thought.
Now all I do is consider Jewell.

We lie in a comfortable and satisfied silence afterward. We
breathe as one, my huge hand lacing and engulfing her tiny
one. A sudden memory of that hand moving as she spins, the
smallness of it somehow keeping her balance as she moves and
glides across the dance floor fills the interior of my head.

Jewell breaks my thoughts. “I’m wondering . . .”
The image scatters to the four corners of my head and I
wait for her thoughts as I continue to inspect her delicately
constructed fingers.
She sees me inspecting our locked hands and cocks a brow
that looks golden in this light, the natural red trying to peek
out.
“You’re so tiny,” I say in simple observation. Jewell frowns
suddenly, studying my face. She seems to shake off something
that doesn’t agree, then another emotion passes over her face,
and I sit up on an elbow.
I don’t like whatever thought put that expression on her
face.
“What’s that look for?” I ask as our hands untwine, my eyes
searching hers.
She keeps a reluctant silence.
Fuck this. “Tell me, Jess,” I command. I’ve fallen: hook, line,
and sinker  .  .  . her bullshit is mine now. It just is. It’s lighter
when we both own it.
I lift the hand I just finish holding and kiss it, telling her
with my eyes that I can handle whatever she dishes out.
I can—I will.
Jewell meets my eyes and takes a deep breath even as she
gives a dismissive shrug. The sheet falls to her waist, baring a
perfect nipple, and I’m momentarily blindsided by the surprise
glimpse of her. I bend and suck her nipple into my mouth.
Jewell goes quiet and I smile around her nipple, knowing
I’ve made her thought process stutter. “Tell me,” I say while I
lave the sensitive flesh with precision, already having a feel for
how she likes it. Jewell gives a little moan, and I really begin to
work her over, my hand palming more of her softness inside my
mouth.
Her words make me release her nipple with a suckling pop.
“My family used to tell me I was ‘too big.’” She pauses,
her head bent in shame, “for ballet,” she finishes in a voice I
strain to hear. “They didn’t push Thad like they pushed me. I
know that my stepfather thought I needed to earn my place.
You know, not the prodigal son and all that.” She’s quiet for
a moment, then adds, “Like he was such a prize.” She says it
quickly, her eyes darting around as if the sick fuck was in the
room with us.
My eyes narrow at that last comment.
Those bastards
, I think.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
Jewell gives a little half-sob exhale and answers, “No.” I
watch her squeeze her eyes shut, hiding from me. “That’s pretty
much what life in the MacLeod household was like,” she says
with a shaky laugh. I press a fingertip under her chin and Jewell
opens those eyes . . . eyes floating with unshed tears.
“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right?” Jewell
asks.
Wrong. Not in her case, never hers. I see her pain and I
feel like a dumb fuck for my assumptions of her. Of the life I
assume she’s lived.
As it happens, I don’t know shit.
My fingers travel to her hair, breaking each cross of linked
braid until all of it falls around me: through my fingers,
wrapping my arms. I use it like rope—wrapping it up tight, I
drag her against me. “You’ll wear your hair down when you’re
with me, Jess Mackey.”
I charge her with my gaze, holding nothing back. I give
her all my intensity, and her lips part in response, her pupils
dilating.
“Yes,” she agrees with a soft smile.
Jewel’s not frightened, she’s turned on, and my cock gets
hard as I watch who I am ring her bell like a chime.
“Listen to me,” I instruct.
I watch her slender throat convulse once. “Okay.” Hot and
soft little breaths caress my neck and gooseflesh rises. I swallow
my response, she gets to me that fast.
Jewell’s my kryptonite.
I hold back for the moment. This is about Jewell
understanding something critical, something she needs to
know.
I was blind before, and now I see. I see all of her.
“You. Are. Perfect,” I say with deliberate enunciation. I look
at her, letting her see with my eyes how she looks to me.
I begin at her feet. Beat-up and beautiful. Those delicate
little bones hold her up on her toes, propelling the grace that
Jewell is across the surface of whatever she dances on.
They curl when I move inside her.
My gaze travels up legs that are lean and strong, lithely
muscled from dancing, not from the artificial practice of weight
lifting and sparring that I must do to defend myself against the
bottom-feeders, but made beautiful through motion. When
my eyes hit the soft cleft between her legs, my prick pops to
attention. I can’t help that response. My dick’s seen the whole
show and it’s happy to remember.
Before I go farther with my perusal, I add words to my
gentle scrutiny. “Let me show you how much,” I say and move
again to her feet. Each delicate toe wears the marks of dance.
They are beautifully fashioned, and when I slide her middle toe
into my mouth, she gasps, pleasure where pain usually resides
tickling her receptors, confusing them, her eyes surging to mine
over the peaks and valleys of her body.
So fucking hot.
I continue my upward journey on the map of her body,
sliding my palm up the interior of her leg. Jewell shivers when
I grasp her knee and kiss the tip. I release the kiss and flick
the tip of my tongue on its peak, and the shiver turns into
something more, her eyes meeting mine.
Her heat matching my own.
Suddenly, my semi-erection goes into overdrive, just a half
hour from liftoff and I’m ready to go again, and her eyes flick to
me and a small smile erupts over her face. Jewell’s pleased that
I want her.
She doesn’t know how much. It might scare her if she did.
“You’re perfect here,” I say with a husky catch in my voice
as I leave the area where her legs bend and put a hand on each
thigh, high and inside, and Jewell’s smile disappears as her
expression fades to serious with desire. She begins to pant with
just the promise of what she sees on my face.
It sounds like music, breaths that beg.
My face hovers over her, and I can smell us in an
intoxicating mix of good sex as the heat of her core rises up to
bathe my face from the enjoyment we took from each other.
Gave each other.
I don’t think I can get harder or more turned on.
Guess again.
“And here,” I say so softly I wonder if she hears me as I lay
a hot kiss with more than a little tongue against the interior
hollow of her thigh and her legs quake from the press of my
mouth. Jewell may or may not hear. But her body understands.
It knows me.
“And here,” I say with finality, as I drive a single lapping
lick up the center of her, spreading her lips with the force of
my tongue alone, and her answering shudder tells me all that
I need.
I make Jewell believe . . .
She’s perfect to me.
I turn in time to see Jewell put the extra helmet I always keep
around on her head. The tail of her braid swings like a dark
golden rope as she moves toward me.
Joy infuses my body, its presence as alien as it is natural, a
physical reaction that’s as involuntary as breathing. Jewell grins
before she slaps the visor down, and I take two strides and grab
her, hauling her against me. I duck down, slamming my mouth
against hers and taste our deeds and it makes me semihard
again, though we’ve gone at it twice already. I deepen the kiss,
the awkwardness against the helmet ignored. Possible witnesses
dismissed.
Time becomes moot.
I move down her neck with hot intent and catch her head
in my hand, the smooth hardness of the helmet against my
palm. “Did I make it good for you?” I ask, my lips at her throat.
I straighten, running a finger where the heat of my mouth just
was, and Jewell gives a responding shiver, sliding the visor back
over her eyes, banking them in shadow.
I flick that long braid and frown. I have a thing for her hair
down and all around me. I slowly smile again, thinking of the
silk of it against me.
“Very,” she answers coyly, and my smile turns into a grin. “I
didn’t want it to stop,” she adds, and I smile, thinking we’re in
perfect agreement on that one.
I suddenly remember her asking me something earlier.
“What were you asking me before?” I ask, playing with the tail
of her braid, standing so close I can still feel the heat between
us.
A ribbon of flesh appears between her brows, the vagueness
of the shape even through the visor looks like a frown. She
lifts the visor, her face smooshed and kissable. “Oh . . . it seems
irrelevant now, but I think of you about half the time as Castile
in my head instead of Devin,” she says, moving her hand back
and forth.
I give a chuckle. I’ll be damned, what the hell? I can give
her a grain of truth. My delayed response causes her frown to
deepen.
Can’t have that. “Actually, funny you mention it, I go by Cas
to my friends.”
Her head pulls back in surprise, and I admit I’m a little
surprised myself. It’s damn uncanny for her to randomly
stumble on it.
“Really?” she asks as her brows rise.
I nod.
“Cas,” she says, and that unraveling in my chest gets looser.
I didn’t know how great it would feel to have some truth
between us. Any truth. Eventually, I’ll have to tell her who I
really am . . . how I feel . . . my connection to Faith. But right
now, my real name, albeit nickname . . . well, it eases me to have
her say it.
I pull her closer and whisper against the opening of the
helmet and her face, the wisps of hair beside her temple
tickling my lips, “Why don’t you try using it when I’m buried
inside you, Jess . . .”
Pink spreads across her cheekbones at my words and what
they evoke. Her gaze moves to my mouth, her blush deepening.
I know she’s thinking about where it’s been, and I grin as
I tap a finger under her chin and cup her ass with my other
hand. “Mine,” I say with a voice that means business. I’m not
fucking around here and slap her ass to punctuate my point,
and something on her face changes.
Heat climbs farther, deepening the blush.
And desire.
It gives me pause, my erection going from semi to full in
the instant I see that look on her face. The look of consent . . .
of want.
My body throbs for her, for that exotic turn I see in her
expression. “Maybe not so vanilla after all,” I remark slowly.
Jewell gives a tiny smile and turns, walking toward the bike.
I watch the gliding sway of her small hips as she straddles
the big bike, avoiding my gaze.
Jewell’s laid down the gauntlet.
Would I accept?
Absofuckingluetly.
I’m so accepting whatever challenge I see there.