Five Alarm Lust (26 page)

Chapter 26

Jack stared in horror at the pictures spread out over his bed. Medical reports, police reports lay open, the pages stained with age but legible. His stomach twisted as he stared at Gillian’s past. The ugly gashes which had turned into the scars, the bruises, the extent of her nightmares all displayed for the world to see.

He set the pictures aside and pulled out the manila envelopes filled with papers. Dates were recorded in red ink on the upper corner of each in cold, concise script. He opened each one carefully and pulled out the documents.

Aggravated assault, unlawful confinement, battery with a weapon.
Jack tossed yet another down before picking up the most recent. His hands trembled as he stared at the top of the page for a few moments. His heart in his throat, he swallowed harshly.
Rape, unlawful confinement, attempted murder
. Skimming the pages, he pressed his hand to his mouth as he read the details Gillian had kept hidden.
Miss Hilliard was thrown through a double-paned glass window on the third floor. She suffered multiple lacerations to her back, legs, and left side as a result of the broken glass. Broken pelvis, shattered ribs, and massive internal injuries. Bruising on her throat and shoulders indicated possible strangulation before going through the window.

Was this what she was hiding? Was she trying to protect him from the brutality of her past? Sickened by the knowledge of what she’d endured, he rubbed a hand over his face and stared out the window. Did this mean anything to him? No, he felt bad for what she’d survived, but it didn’t affect how he felt for her. If anything it made him love her more. Gillian was far stronger than anyone he’d ever met, and he admired her.

With the utmost care, he stacked the photos back and closed the lid. The sound of running water drew his attention. Shedding his jeans and T-shirt, he padded into the bathroom.

Steam rolled up over the shower door, the scent of flowers swirling around him. Already he could feel his cock swelling, hardening. The low throb of lust in his blood fired as he opened the shower door and stepped inside.

“What?” Gillian whirled, a confused look on her face.

“Uh-uh, no peeking.” Jack pressed his lips against her shoulder. His hands slid around her waist, up over wet skin to cup her breasts. He toyed with her nipples, his lips whispering over her flesh. “Just think, you get to do everything to me that I’m gonna do to you.”

“Jack.”

“You were worried I’d think less of you.” Jack licked her shoulder. “That I’d think like they did, but I don’t. I’m gonna show you what I think of you.” He traced his hands down her arms, pinning hers against the wall. His fingers trailed over her arms, down her sides. He smiled at the shiver racing over her, the faint but distinct moan of pleasure an almost physical caress.

Hot water pulsed against his back as he worked his way down her back pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the pale flesh. He paused at the top of her scars, his tongue swirling across the flesh, drawing a shuddery moan.

He growled when he felt her hands come to rest on his shoulders, her fingers digging in. Jack wrapped his fingers around her wrists and moved them. He stood. Ignoring the water streaming onto the floor, he tugged on the bar of soap hanging on a hook next to the showerhead. Clumsy, one handed, he tugged it free.

He wrapped one end of the narrow cotton rope around Gillian’s wrist and slid the soap through the silver grab bars on the wall. Using his body, he nudged her away from the showerhead, the pulse of the shower on his back until she stood, braced against the wall. “Tell me if you want me to—”

“No.” Gillian shook her head quickly. “No, don’t stop. I know it’s you, know you won’t hurt me. I just want to be with you.”

Quickly, he slipped her other wrist behind her, giving her room to move but not enough for her to cover herself. The soft cotton of the rope slid over her damp skin, binding her in place with room to move, but just enough restriction to keep her from hiding.

“Jack, what on—”

“Shh.” He rested his finger on her lips and grinned. Having her trussed up had its advantages. “It’s my turn to play.” He pressed a quick, hard kiss to her lips and slid his mouth along her jaw. His tongue darted out to lick at the flesh, tasting her. The faint bitterness of her body wash, the sweat beneath, the chlorine in the water, distractions before her sweetness lay heavy on his tongue.

Down her jaw, her throat, his teeth nipped at the pale flesh. Tongue laving the wound. Calloused hands cupping her breasts, thumbs painted them in slow, sensuous circles. Every whimper, every breathy moan went straight to his groin. Letting the water pound on his back, he inched down her body, lust thickening his blood with each passing second.

*

Gillian tugged on her bonds and bit her lip at the tiny shocks of desire racing over her. The soft cotton of the rope rubbed over her flesh, adding to the gentle caress of Jack’s tongue. She threw her head back and barely heard the strangled groan as pleasure washed over her.

Icy against her heated flesh, the tiles offered support as she leaned back. She could feel the hot water swirling around her toes, sliding between them. Wiggling them, she whimpered when Jack slid a hand down her side, his fingers dancing across sensitive flesh. She sucked in a desperate breath when he ghosted over a ticklish spot. Her body lurched when he nibbled it, his teeth sliding across her hip, followed by his tongue.

“Jack.” Whimpers of need escaped as she tugged on the bonds. “Please, I need—”

“To be quiet.” Jack gave her a sharp, quick nip to silence her.

The low, whiskey-smooth baritone shot through her, pooling low in her body. She could feel her pussy clench, her clit throbbing. Blinking, she squinted in the vague hope of seeing what he was doing when his touch abandoned her.

Lightening shot through her groin; her body arched at the first pulse of water on her clit. Gillian muffled a scream into her shoulder and her body trembled. Fire lapped along her nerves. The throbbing heat in her clit tightened the coil wrapping tighter and tighter along her nerves as he moved the showerhead.

“Let go, baby. Come for me.” Jack’s voice whispered in her ear. “You know you want to. Want to step over the edge. Your pussy’s so hot, so wet. I bet you’re just aching to have something in it, aren’t you?”

Gillian panted, tugging on her wrists, her fingers splayed as she struggled to free herself. She squeezed her legs together, the aching hollow sensation competing with the rhythmic beating of the water. Crying out when he touched her thigh, she shook her head at the subtle pressure.

Strong, unyielding, his fingers tightened on her leg, lifting it to rest her foot on the top of the tub. Gillian shook, her body on fire as she felt his fingers sliding through her swollen folds and into her hot depths. Her hips gyrated slowly, seeking his finger as he pulled back.

“You want me in you, don’t you?” Jack panted, thrusting his fingers against her. “Want to have my cock buried inside you. I want to see you come, Gilli. I need to see it. If you want me in you, want me to fuck you, then come for me, baby.”

Panting, her body torn between need and want, she shook her head. Her mangled scream filled the bathroom at the change in pressure of the pulsing water and his hand on her clit, his fingers sliding free of her beaver. “Yes.” rolling her hips, she thrust them forward, lost in the sensations as he lifted the hood off the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Come for me.” The rasp of stubble against her thigh added to her heightened awareness. She jerked in her bonds and moaned. So close. She could feel the tension building, the inferno roaring through her. His hot breath a second before his tongue rasped along the surface to send her crashing into the abyss.

Her breath caught in her lungs. Muscles clenched until they burned. Her heart stuttered in her chest. The wash of her orgasm raced down her thighs as her sex clenched. Heat suffused her body, her breasts heavy, laden; she arched up.

Rough fingers trailed up her thighs, painting in the moisture clinging to her flesh. How much was the tepid shower, how much was her own essence, she didn’t know, nor did she care. On legs that trembled, she eased as far down into the tub as she could, her body arching forward to accommodate her bound wrists.

Boneless, her body swimming in pleasure, she felt Jack ease the rope over her wrists, his hands gentle as he gathered her against him. A gasp escaped when she felt the broad, slick head of his cock against her hip. She whined softly and blinked, her hands already searching for his frame. She trailed her fingers down his body, her nails rasping over his nipples.

Gillian closed her eyes and focused on learning him. On touching him. Her hands sliding over flesh that quivered, nails scoring gently. Drawing in each hiss of his breath, each groan, she couldn’t help smiling.

“Come for me, Jack,” Gillian leaned forward to whisper. Her lips brushing against his ear. “Come hard for me.”

Gillian emitted a startled shriek and clung to him as he lurched upward, her back slamming into the shower wall as he kissed her. Control vanished, his tongue slid into her mouth. Dueled with hers as she writhed against him.

His hard shaft slipped between her folds, the head bumping her clit again and again. Hanging on by a thread, she jerked her mouth free. “Now, Jack! Now, please, I want you. I need you.”

Their mutual scream filled the bathroom as he slid into her in one fierce thrust. His pubic hair rasped against the sensitive flesh between her legs. She sobbed as he rolled his hips, his pelvis putting pressure where she needed it. “Yes, yes.” Panting her agreement, she arched toward him, her palms slapping the ceramic tiles when he rolled his hips, barely touching her, his hands going beneath her thighs, spreading her open. His grip tightened on her ass as he slammed into her again and again. His raspy breathing filled her head as she raced toward the peak before crashing through the barrier and falling into the vortex of her orgasm.

Chapter 27

Barbara poured another cup of tea, her gaze sliding to the windows of the house. Silence reigned. Turning on the news, she sat back. With Lenny out of the house, she could do whatever she wanted. If only it were so easy to chase away the ghosts, fill the void he’d left.

“Today’s top stories…” The anchor’s voice filled the silence. “Recently escaped prisoner, Michael Kilpatrick, was arrested in the summer home of Barbara Krutz. He currently faces a myriad of charges including assault and battery, breaking and entering. Mister Kilpatrick was serving a twenty-year sentence for the attempted murder of his former girlfriend, Gillian Hilliard.”

Barbara hit the Mute button and stared at the television in horror. If he talked, everything would be for naught. She had no access to Gillian’s money, and her own accounts had been seized. How much the police knew she wasn’t certain, but she did know if Michael started talking they were both looking at a much more severe punishment.

She needed to get out of town, take a trip. Yes, that would work well. She’d go visit her sister in Toronto until things blew over, and they were sure to. Gillian wouldn’t speak of the matter; she was too scared to go against her mother’s wishes.

Her hand froze on the phone at the abrupt knock on the door. Pasting a smile on her face, Barbara strolled to the door. Fear lanced through her at the marked cruiser and the Crown Victorian sitting in her driveway. Three RCMP members, two men and a woman, stood on the stoop, staring at her.

“Good evening, can I help you, Constable Feller?” Barbara hoped they didn’t notice the thread of fear in her voice.

“Barbara Krutz, we have a warrant for your arrest. Please turn around and place your hands on your head.” The woman pulled out a pair of handcuffs. “You are under arrest for Breach of Trust and fraud as well conspiracy to commit murder. Do you understand? You have the right to retain and instruct counsel without delay. We will provide you with a toll-free telephone lawyer referral service if you do not have your own lawyer. Anything you say can be used in court as evidence. Do you understand? Would you like to speak to a lawyer?”

“What? You can’t.”

Constable Feller smiled, a cold, hard movement of his facial muscles. “Would you like to make a statement Missus Krutz? Anything you say may be entered into evidence.”

Barbara swallowed hard, her heart racing. “Just who am I supposed to have done these things to?”

“Gillian Hilliard.” The woman cop clicked one cuff into place and slid the other over her wrist. “Again, do you wish to contact a lawyer? I can provide you with a number to the legal aid…”

“Yes, I want my lawyer.” Barbara huffed, stumbling as the woman officer hustled her to the waiting car. She glanced behind her at the house. “Lock the door. I wouldn’t want some thief to rob me blind.”

“Watch your head, ma’am.”

Sitting in the back of the cruiser, Barbara stared out the window, an icy fear settling over her. Just how much had they uncovered?

* * * *

Contentment oozed through her like the sunlight spilling across the bedroom floor. With a wide yawn, Gillian stretched, her back cracking as she reached for her glasses. Slipping them into place, she glanced over her shoulder at Jack who lay sleeping soundly. Across the room on the dresser her blue bin rested, the lid askew. The thick duvet was tossed aside as she rose to cross the room.

She lifted the lid and gazed down into it. Stacks of pictures were piled atop the folders she’d kept all these years. With trembling fingers, she reached in to pull out a couple and stared at them. Evidence of a past she’d rather forget stared back at her, but all she could feel was a vague hint of anger. She tossed them back in, closed the lid, and set the box on the floor before heading for the kitchen. They were in the past, and she was going to live in the now.

Her fingers trailed over the faint red mark on her wrist, memories stirring of the passion they’d shared the night before, how with Jack’s touch what had happened with Michael felt like a distant memory. It seemed such a contradiction, but she’d never felt safer than with this man, who’d used something to tie her up and make her come. The shower had only been a precursor to the rest of the night. He’d made love to her again in the tangled satin of his sheets. More than simple lust in each kiss, each caress. Did she believe he loved her? Gillian wasn’t too sure she could trust her own heart with the reality. Maybe he did, maybe not, but she knew she loved him.