Dangerously Broken (4 page)

S
UMMER
WENT
HOT
and loose all over as she watched the change come over his face, his eyes glinting a hard, glassy green, almost as if they were lit from within. There was fire there. And stark command. And Jesus, it was
Jamie
looking at her like he was going to eat her alive.

He kissed her again, and it was all hunger and need and hurting, he kissed her so damn hard. It was everything she’d ever needed. Her body surged against his, everything just out of control. She couldn’t think. It was as if he’d shocked her senseless, and all she knew was his hot tongue in her mouth, the flavor of him, the scents of something dark—sandalwood or patchouli mixed with a little motor oil—and all of it so deliciously male she never wanted to stop breathing him in. She was soaking wet simply from kissing him, from feeling the authority in the way he held her.

You are in big trouble.

She didn’t care.

“Your bedroom,” he muttered from between clenched teeth.

Somehow she stumbled into the house. He was right behind her, holding her wrist hard at the small of her back, his body tight against hers, kissing and biting her shoulder as they moved into the bedroom. He whirled her body in his arms, everything happening so fast she had no time to think. He stripped her nightie off and it fell around her feet, leaving her naked. Then he took a step back and tore his shirt over his head.

“Oh . . .” It came out on a sigh of pure, burning desire.

His body was amazing. Broad shoulders, muscular chest. The washboard abs, the narrow waist. Even his tattoo was sexy—she’d always found tattoos sexy—the words
memento mortalitatem tuam
, Latin for “remember your mortality,” she knew, tattooed in a line down his ribs on his right side in bold calligraphic script. And oh, God, when had he gotten his nipples pierced? The two small, steel rings made her want to curl her tongue around them.

Her gaze flicked up to his, then down again as she heard him unbutton his jeans, the quiet
snick
of the zipper coming down. The fact that he wore nothing underneath made her sex clench. But he kept the damn jeans on, the solid ridge of his hard cock hidden beneath the worn denim, tempting her. She could hardly stand it.

She licked her lips. “Jamie—”

“Shh, Summer Grace. I need you to be quiet now, sugar. No discussion. Because now isn’t the time to negotiate and I am going to have to rein myself in to keep things under control.”

“Don’t, Jamie. We don’t need control.”

He stepped forward and slid his hand around her neck. She gasped in pleasure, felt his fingers flex in response.

“Yes, we damn well do, sweetheart. No arguments. Just fucking kiss me, girl.”

She sighed through the slight constriction of her throat, loving the way he held her at that edge as she tilted her chin and his mouth closed over hers. She opened to his searching tongue, losing herself in the sweetness of his mouth. In his utter command.

When he pulled away, she was panting.

“Right now you are mine,” he whispered against her cheek, his hand still on her throat, his breath warm on her skin.

“Yes,” she murmured.

Her body already belonged to him. She couldn’t think of anything else at that moment but the desire—the
need
—coursing through her flesh, taking her over.
He
was taking her over. If he didn’t really touch her she was going to explode.

With his hand wrapped around her neck, using only the slightest pressure, he backed her up step by step until she felt the mattress behind her legs.

“Down you go, now,” he said, his tone quiet. He was so damn commanding he didn’t need to use a harsh tone, a raised voice. She’d imagined a thousand times what being with him would be like—and, as she’d gotten older and discovered her desire for kink, what being dominated by him would be like. But never had she imagined it being this good. This natural.

He exerted the tiniest bit of pressure, guiding her to sit on the bed, her damp thighs hitting the cool sheets.

He leaned over her, clamping his hand a bit tighter. “This time, Summer Grace,” he told her, “it’s just gonna be you and me and the tiniest edge of kink. Because I fucking need you right now. Do you understand? Later, if you want to, we can do full negotiations. But I have to admit I am in no shape to do that. And judging by your eyes, your breath, your silence, by how beautifully hard your nipples are, neither are you, sweetheart. So tell me again. Is this still a ‘yes’?”

“Oh yes,” she breathed, the words whispering on a long sigh. There was no other possible answer.

He smiled, his dimples making small, charming divots in his cheeks, and she had a flash of Jamie at sixteen. That was when she’d first fallen for him. It had only taken fourteen years to get to this point. Fourteen years and her decision to finally end her pursuit of him. But he was right in front of her and she was naked and he was touching her—had kissed her! The kissing was a revelation in itself, the flavor of him still warm on her tongue. The answer had to be yes.

He kept his gaze on hers as he slid his hand down and his fingers bore down on the tender pressure points just below her collarbone, hurting her the tiniest bit. Letting her know his power, that he understood very thoroughly how to cause pain with the simplest touch. Then he moved a bit lower, between her breasts, pressed down, making a small hurting spot deep in her flesh. She sighed into the pain, needing to be touched. Needing to feel that little bit of pain. Needing
Jamie
. As if he heard her need, he gathered both breasts in his hands, kneading gently, his thumbs teasing her nipples, and pleasure arced into her like an electric current. He pinched one nipple and she gasped.

“Oh!”

“You like that, do you, sugar? Oh yeah, I can tell you do. No, no. Hold still for me.”

He pinched again and she had to bite her lip not to move. It felt so good.

“I can see how hard you’re trying. Good girl. Now try harder.”

He pinched her again, both nipples this time, and she cried out.

“Ah, God!”

“Still,” he ordered.

To her surprise he leaned down and pressed his lips in that space between her breasts where he’d dug into the pressure point there. She let her head fall back with a sigh of pure pleasure. The contrast of sensations was making her head spin. He was making her head spin. That little bit of mind-fuck and the fact that it was
Jamie
. That fact was mind-fuck in itself.

“Oh yes . . .”

She arched into him, and he pulled away. He stood there simply staring at her, watching her, exploring her body with his eyes—eyes heated with lust, glittering in the soft morning light. And all the while her body heated even more, her system going into overdrive, flooding with desire, a hard-edged need unlike anything she’d ever felt before.

He placed one knee next to her bare thigh on the bed and even the touch of denim on her skin was enough to send a new surge of lust through her.

“Jamie, please . . .”

“Please what, sugar?”

“Do . . . something . . .”

He grinned, the dimples flashing again. “Oh, I plan to. I’m just taking my time to soak you in, girl. And to calm the hell down so I do right by you.” He reached out and traced his fingertip slowly over her throat, then down her side, over her ribs. “I love the ink on you, by the way. Beautiful. And so damn hot.” His finger feathered over her skin, leaving tiny firelights of pleasure in its wake, a small trail of sensation.

Between her thighs was an insistent pulse-beat of
wanting
. She waited, doing everything she could to hold still and take it, knowing that was what he wanted. Fucking torture for a control freak like her, but especially because it was him touching her. She couldn’t find it within herself to speak.

He used two fingers on her breastbone to push her back onto the bed. With the other hand, he spread her legs wide, so wide she knew she was completely open to him. But she wanted him to see—wanted him to see her, to see what he’d missed out on all these years. To see how wet he’d made her.

He bent over her, one palm flattening between her breasts, the other pressing hard—deliciously—on her thigh.

“I’m going to taste you, Summer Grace. I am going to bury my face between your lovely thighs and lick you and suck you and fuck you with my tongue until you come. And then I’m going to really fuck you. But that’ll have to wait.”

With his hands on her waist, he scooted her up on the bed, then he slid his hands down to her knees and roughly forced her thighs farther apart. She loved it—the manhandling. Loved his soft voice and his rough touch. So much it was making her dizzy.

In moments he was kneeling over her on the bed, his mouth between her thighs. And oh God, she thought she might actually die.

Soft lips and wet, seeking tongue—it was everything at once as he used one hand to hold her hip down, hard enough to hurt, while with the other he spread her open until her clit peeked out from under its hood. He began to flick his tongue at the delicate nub of sensitive flesh. Pleasure was like heat lightning, striking over and over, deep into her body. He moved down, lapping at her swollen lips, her clitoris, her waiting hole with his soft tongue.

She grasped his head, his buzz cut like velvet under her hands, and hung on, moaning. Panting. When he took her clit into his mouth and sucked hard, scraping the tip with his teeth as he thrust two fingers inside her, she came up off the bed, the first edge of climax shivering through her. He must have felt it—he added a third finger, and maybe a fourth—she wasn’t sure. All she knew was the sensation of being filled up. And at the same time he sucked so hard that the line between pain and pleasure was a blur. But she loved it. She screamed as she came, her body convulsing, drowning in sensation.

Before the last shivers of her climax had subsided, he began again, this time pinching the lips of her sex between his fingers and licking her clit, then pushing his tongue inside her. It was so soft and wet, the sensation nearly indescribable—that and the contrast of the pain from his pinching fingers. And his scent all around her, seeming to surround her, envelop her, as the heat of their bodies grew together. Soon she was coming again, shaking with it, crying his name.

“Jamie! Ah, God, Jamie . . . Yes!”

He lifted his face and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning, all dimples again, and even that was hot to her—the pleased look on his face. The damn dimples that had always made her swoon.

“You want to come for me again, sugar girl?”

“Yeah . . . I do. I need to.”

“Mmm, those might be the sexiest damn words I’ve ever heard.”

He stood, stroked the solid ridge of his erection through his jeans and she held her breath, waiting for him to reveal the flesh she’d dreamed of for years.

“I need to see you,” she told him. “To touch you. Come on, Jamie.”

“You want to touch me?” he asked, his voice a low rumble. “Come on then. You take it out. Take my cock out and suck me.”

She shivered at the way he was talking to her. Oh, she had never in a million years imagined what a filthy mouth he had. Somehow she’d always thought of him as more straight-laced than she was. But he had a hell of an edge in the bedroom. She hadn’t thought anything could make her more irresistibly drawn to Jamie Stewart-Greer, but oh my . . . that beautiful, masculine face and that dirty, dirty mouth. The man made her shaky, she needed him so badly.

She sat up on the edge of the bed and placed her hands on his hips. Looking up at him, catching his gaze with hers, she smoothed her palms over the front of his jeans until she felt that hard shaft. She drew her fingertips over it, drawing a groan from him. The desire blazing in his green eyes went through her like a surge of heat up her spine, and she suddenly—blindingly—became aware of her own power. The power of being utterly female. Of having this incredible man at her mercy. At the mercy of his desire for her. And the mercy of her sexual confidence, which was blossoming with every moment.

She ran her fingernails up the thick shaft, swallowing hard at the size of him, then back down, tearing her gaze from his face long enough to see his abs clench with need.

She brought her gaze back to his. “I can’t wait to have your cock in my hands,” she murmured. “To stroke you. To take you in my mouth. To suck you.”

“Fuck, Summer Grace.”

“No, don’t call me that now, Jamie. Call me anything else.”

He grabbed the back of her head and yanked her in until her face was an inch from his open fly.

“I will call you anything I want, sugar girl. We may not have negotiated full-on play yet, but never forget that when you’re with me,
I
am in charge. Completely.” The command in his voice scared her a little. She loved it. “And”—his tone and the grip on her hair softened—“you are always Summer Grace to me, even though you hate it when I call you that. You are always that sweet and sexy girl I’ve known forever. Wanted forever.”

“Oh . . .”

Had he? All those years that he’d turned her away? But she couldn’t think about it now. She could barely think of anything but doing exactly what she’d said. She licked her lips.

“You call me anything then, Jamie. As long as I can touch you.”

“Yeah, touch me, sweetheart. Do it.”

*   *   *

H
E WATCHED HER
as she pulled on his jeans, one small hand snaking in and wrapping around his cock.

He groaned. And thought he’d explode when she freed it from his jeans. The look on her face was pure sex: her blue, feline eyes narrowing, a sultry smile on her lips. Lush pink lips that opened to take the head of his cock into her mouth.

“Ah, yes, sugar.”

Pleasure was some strange combination—the liquid heat of her mouth and something that sliced into him like a knife. That sharp. That keenly edged. Because it was
her
.

Control.

He pulled in a gasping breath, then another, deeper this time.

He exhaled as she slid her tongue over the tip, into the hole for a moment, and some vague part of his lust-addled mind wondered where she’d learned that trick. Then his brain went empty as she swallowed him whole.