Dangerously Broken (11 page)

“Good girl,” he murmured, making her shiver all over.

Small tremors of pleasure still washed over her body, and she undulated against his hard cock at her back.

“Mmm, you do that for long and I’m gonna have to take you to bed and ravish you, sweetheart.”

“Yes, please,” she said.

“Oh, yeah—that’s it.”

He pressed her forward and got to his feet, pulling the plug in the tub as he did so.

“Stay there,” he commanded her as he quickly dried himself with a towel.

It was tough holding still, trying to do as he asked—as he demanded—when his beautiful cock was right there in front of her. If she reached out she could touch it. Take it in her hands, in her mouth.

Oh yes. To taste him. To please him.

She shifted and knelt in the tub, needing the porcelain surface hard against her knees to keep her in line—that little bit of punishment. But finally Jamie pulled her to her feet and quickly dried her body before lifting her in his arms.

She looped hers around his neck. “You sure do like to carry me around.”

“I like to do everything with you.”

She leaned in and breathed in his neck. “And you do smell like my bath salts. Like me.”

“I’m about to smell a lot more like you. Your pheromones. Your sweat. Your come, sugar girl.”

“Mmm, I like it when you talk sweet to me.”

He set her down a bit roughly on her bed. “Sometimes you’re the same old Summer Grace. Someone needs another spanking.”

“Don’t be a tease! And would you still make me come, then carry me naked to bed to do what I have no doubt are unspeakable things to me if I were still the same old Summer Grace?” She leaned back on her hands, arching her back just enough to raise her breasts, blinking up at him.

“The unspeakable things are a given, but I am hardly being mean, my little kitten in heat. I like that you’re still who you’ve always been. That you haven’t let life change you to the core. That you don’t put it on for me. I just like you. Better gird your loins, sweetheart—I’m about to show you how much.”

“Mmm, dirty talk,” she murmured as he lowered his body over hers, pressing her down on the bed.

“I thought it was sweet talk?” he said, leaning in to kiss the hardening tip of first one breast, then the other.

“It’s all the same for me.” She grabbed his head, urging him on. “Anytime, anywhere. Don’t you know that by now, Jamie?”

He laid his head on her chest, then dragging it lower he gently bit the tender flesh just below her ribs. “You are a most unusual woman.”

She lifted her legs, wrapping him up in her thighs until his solid shaft pressed against her pelvis. She shifted until it hit just the right spot, pleasure surging through her. “We’d both be bored to death if I weren’t.”

“True. Now I’m going to do all sorts of dirty things to you. And I’m going to do it very, very slowly.”

“Mae West said anything worth doing is worth doing slowly.”

“She was a wise woman. And it’s no surprise you’d quote Mae West.”

“No it— Oh!” she cried out as he slid down and put his mouth on her.

Then she couldn’t manage more than gasps and moans as he began an assault—it couldn’t be called anything else—on her wet, needy pussy. He licked her slowly with the flat of his tongue, long, even strokes that drove her wild with need. He paused to suck just the tip of her clitoris, biting into the tender flesh until she squealed in pain and indescribable pleasure, then licked and kissed his way lower, pushing his whole tongue inside her for a moment before working his way up again.

He must have felt her body tightening as the need to come bore down on her like a heated tide. He pulled back.

“Don’t come yet, sweetheart,” he told her. His tone was gentle, but it was a command—there was never any mistaking it with him.

She drew in a deep, gasping breath. “Jamie . . .”

“Shh, my sugar girl. Hang on.”

He pushed off her, but she was relieved to find it was only to grab a condom from her bedside table. She watched, her body clenching all over as he slid the latex down over his gorgeous cock. So big, with a pearly drop of pre-come at the swollen tip.

Inside me, yes. Now!

He placed both his big hands at her waist and turned her over onto her hands and knees. She arched her back, waiting for him. It was several moments before he ran a fingertip down her spine, and she waited for him to spank her, to enter her from behind. But he just continued the gentle stroking—with one fingertip, then all his fingers feathering over her skin, down her spine, then up to sweep her hair aside and stroke the back of her neck, making her shiver. When he placed his flat palm on her back, leaving it there for long, breathless moments, need shivered over her skin.

What was he doing? She tuned in to his breathing, which was a bit labored but not entirely with desire. There was more there—she wasn’t even sure how she knew it. When she turned her head to look over her shoulder and saw his face, she had to bite her lip not to say something. Not to melt into him. Not to cry. Not to run.

She started to shake her head, and he grabbed her and turned her gently in his arms, one hand behind her head as he slowly lowered her onto her back once more.

“Ah, God, Summer Grace.” It was a slow whisper that escaped his lips with words nothing more than a part of his breath. Except that they
were
more.

She blinked at the tears burning her eyes, the beauty of the moment something so completely unfamiliar it was as if she didn’t know what to do with her hands. So she waited, lying quietly beneath him. Staring up at him—at his eyes gleaming like dark emeralds, their expression open to her. And what she saw there was . . . love?

No. It couldn’t be. Jamie cared for her—of course he did. And she’d always thought he loved her, but she’d never meant it the way his eyes seemed to at that moment.

You must be mistaken.

Every cell in her being was screaming that she wasn’t. Her heart hammered.

“Jamie?”

With his brows drawn together as if he didn’t quite understand what was happening, either, he stroked her hair from her cheek, pausing to rub a long strand between his fingertips. “Shh, Summer Grace,” he said very quietly. “Don’t talk now. Just be here with me.”

She bit her lip. Nodded. And felt something inside her breaking down. No, not down. Breaking open.

He sat back on his heels, pulling her up with him and onto his body until she straddled his thighs on bent knees. Then he lifted her, his gaze on hers, still misty with that same confusion as he settled her slowly onto his cock.

She swore she felt every single inch and ridge and taut vein as his rigid flesh pushed into her body—every inch exquisite. She wrapped her arms around his neck, sighing her pleasure, breathing in his gasping breath as he tilted his hips, his cock pressing deeper. When he was as deep as he could go she ground down onto him until it hurt a little. She didn’t care.

No. Not true. I want it. Need it. Need him.

He inhaled, leaned in and exhaled against her lips, then into her mouth as she kissed him. Her body was burning with a wild need. Her mind was wild with sensation and the sound of his name in her head.

Jamie. Jamie. Jamie. Finally.

He pulled back and locked his gaze on hers once more. Their bodies moved together, one being, flesh on flesh, inside and out. Pleasure was like a ribbon twining between them, graceful and sinuous. His mouth was only inches from hers, but she couldn’t tear her gaze from the fire burning in his eyes, more intense with each stroke. The pressure built inside her, and her sex went tight. His erection went rock-hard, and she felt the first pulsing flutters that signaled his orgasm, and hers.

He grabbed her face between his hands. “Summer Grace . . .”

“What, Jamie?” she gasped. “What is it?”

He shook his head, pushing deeper into her and holding himself there. “I don’t know. I don’t fucking know. But it’s . . .
something
. Jesus Christ.”

He bucked hard into her, and she felt the heat of his come through the latex of the condom. It was too much for her—that and his words swirling through her head like some crazy aphrodisiac. Her climax rippled over her skin, through her body. Pleasure and pleasure and pleasure until she was panting with him, writhing with him, groaning with him. Then his mouth came down on hers, drinking in her cries as her nails dug into his back, her hands flexing helplessly.

It went on for some endless period of time. Then they were simply rocking together, her head on his strong shoulder, his arms wrapped so tightly around her body she could barely breathe. But she didn’t want to. She couldn’t get close enough to him.

They were slick with sweat, enveloped in each other and the damp New Orleans air. Finally Jamie sighed and pulled back, lifting her and laying her down on the bed, pausing to squeeze her hand tightly for a moment.

“Be right back,” he said before getting up and moving toward the bathroom.

She felt too naked without him beside her. She shook her head at her silliness and waited for him to return, her body sated and limp, a small, happy smile on her lips. Several minutes passed, and she looked at her bedside clock to see if it really had been that long.

Oh, for God’s sake—don’t be so damn girly.

But more time passed, and soon it had been a full fifteen minutes before he came back and climbed onto the bed next to her.

“Everything all right?” she asked.

“Yeah, fine,” was all he said.

She would have been tempted to ask for more but he pulled her into his arms and snuggled his face into her hair.

“Mmm, you feel good, sugar,” he murmured.

She closed her eyes and reveled in just being in his arms. Except for the tiny voice in the back of her head that was still asking why he’d disappeared so suddenly after sex—after the intensity that had happened between them—and why he’d been gone so long. But she sure as hell wasn’t going to say the words out loud. She wasn’t going to ask if what she’d seen in his eyes had thrown him as much as it had her. Made him wonder if they’d made a mistake.

Fuck.

“You okay, baby?”

“What? Yes. I’m great,” she lied. To herself as much as to him. Because this was maybe more than she could deal with. Especially right now. But she had to stop. There would be plenty of time to be freaked out tomorrow.

Stop it. Be in the moment.

And the moment was so good, if she only let it be. It was lovely to be taken care of the way Jamie had done tonight. When had any other man done that for her? The bath, his gentle handling of her—when he wasn’t being so beautifully rough with her. But what if . . . ? God, she could barely stand to think of it, but what if this was nothing more than an extension of the promise he’d made to take care of her? And after seeing her involved in kink, this was maybe the only way he could do that?

And what if you’re borrowing problems where there aren’t any and he was just throwing away the condom and taking his time washing up, rather than planning his escape?

She buried her head in his chest and breathed him in, trying to calm herself, and after several long breaths it worked. A little. She had to concentrate very hard on the slowing cadence of his breath to relax. At some point, she slept.

*   *   *

T
HE SUN WAS
just coming up when Jamie stirred, waking her.

“Hey.” His voice was rusty, and even in that one word she heard the touch of Scottish accent that usually made her shivery all over, her knees melting. But this morning it only made her shiver, and not in a good way.

Please don’t let this fall apart.

But the doubts from the night before came flooding back to her—she couldn’t help it. She wanted to run again despite the connection she’d felt with him during sex. During the bath. Hell, during the entire evening until he’d gotten up from the bed. Funny how a mere fifteen minutes could change everything.

Too damn early to go there. She needed coffee. And maybe a lobotomy.

“Want some coffee?” she asked. “I can put a pot on.”

“Yeah, I do, but it’s almost seven and I need to get to the shop. I’ll pick some up on the way.”

“Oh. Yeah. I need to get ready for work, too.”

He yawned and kissed her forehead. “All right. Time to get up.”

That was it? Not even five minutes of morning cuddling? No “sugar”? No “Last night was wonderful”?

Oh, you really do need to cut this girly shit. Just let him go to work, damn it.

“You can shower here, if you want,” she offered, but she didn’t know how sincere she was. She could use some time to catch her breath, to catch a beat without being distracted by a man who was driving her crazy and turning her into some needy, whiny little girl.

He stretched, sat on the edge of the bed with his back to her for several moments before getting up. She didn’t want to look at him, but he was too damn hot to look away. Strong, muscled back, shoulders practically rippling in the misty morning light.

“Nah,” he said finally. “Thanks. I’ll run by my place. Need a fresh shirt, anyway.”

He walked into the bathroom, came back with his clothes on, making her glad she’d gotten up and slipped into a short cotton chemise.

He grinned at her, one cheek dimpling. “I think I left the berries on my desk.”

“Well, you’ll have something for breakfast, then.”

“Yeah. Thanks for that.”

She shrugged. “Sure.”

He moved toward her then, laid a hand on her shoulder and peered into her face. “Any subdrop?”

“Oh. No. I’m fine.”

Doing his duty, anyway. That’s something.

No, it’s really not.

Maybe you are in subdrop.

He was, of course, oblivious to her silent conversation with herself. “Good. You can call me if you drop, okay? If you can’t reach me for any reason, call Allie or Rosie.”

If she couldn’t reach him?

“Of course. I know what to do. You’d better hurry. You don’t want to be late.”

“Right. I’d better run.”

Still no “sugar” or “sweetheart” or “baby.” She hated that her heart sank a little.