MasterStroke (31 page)

As her imagination ranged across his body, the result was immediate and not unexpected. It didn’t take much to arouse her these days. Just the thought of Jack was enough to get her started, for her juices to rise. Thinking of him naked and knowing he was only a few moments away from climbing back into bed with her made the familiar feeling between her legs return with an ardent urgency she could taste as much as feel.

As she lay there, the soft liquid heat at her core began to flow through her and her skin tingled delightfully. There was the sense that a moist dampness was emanating from between her thighs and she imagined her lips growing puffy and opening wide, like the time-lapse photography of a flower opening to the morning sun in some innocuous Discovery Channel documentary. Her nipples hardened, tightened against the soft cotton of the sheet, and she slowly drew the duvet from her body.

Sandrine sat up, thinking she’d kneel on the carpet in front of the bed and wait for Jack’s return but a sharp pain in her hip bit and she thought better of it. Instead, she perched on the edge of the bed, her feet lightly placed on the floor. She ran a hand across her breasts, brushing the nipples, teasing them deliciously, down her stomach to her pubic mound, stroking lightly, a fingertip easing further below until it found the damp humidity dotting her labia and the hard nub of her clit, now demanding attention. She dipped a fingertip fractionally inside her, coating it, then circled clock-wise slowly around the very edge of her clit. Round and round, drawing a lazy boundary that infuriated her passion and brought a small inaudible gasp from her throat.

With half-closed eyelids, her attention was focused completely on the door, waiting impatiently, willing it to open. Soon, she knew, Jack’s silhouette would fill the doorway and he would see her at the same time she saw him. As if she could draw him into the room with the sheer force of her desire, the door did open and he was there. He was backlit, a black man-shape haloed in bright light, unmoving.

He chuckled, a wonderful sound that made her flesh prickle.

“You shouldn’t be up,” Jack said.

“I hope you’re up as much as I am,” Sandrine replied huskily.

“What do you think?”

“I don’t want to know what you think. I want you to show me.”

He started to move towards her, a hand climbing towards the light switch.

“Please. Leave the light on,” she pleaded.

He swung the door almost closed, muting the harshness of the bathroom, and padded to the bed, standing so close she could feel the heat radiating from his body and smell his spicy warmth. She reached out and leaned forward simultaneously. At the same time, he eased his fingers into her hair and pulled her face towards the thick, bobbing richness of his engorging cock. It was magnificent, as it always was, but she could never be complacent with this part of his anatomy. It drew too much attention and promised so much, reducing her to a fevered pulsing mass of nerve ends. As it grew longer and thicker, hanging so dangerously full of intent, she cradled his testicles in one hand and the base of his cock with the other and sank her mouth down until it nudged the back of her throat.

The breath rushed from him, pushed ahead of a low lingering moan of approval.

“Oh, yes, baby. I love your mouth.”

She took her time, working slowly and deeply, back and forth, wanting him to pull her hair more sharply but unable to communicate beyond her own moan of pleasure. She knew it vibrated through his cock by the way it swelled in his mouth.
How big can it get?
she wondered.
The head is enormous. The taste is so beautiful.

Briefly, as she alternated between her own ministrations and Jack’s increasingly urgent thrusting, Sandrine considered sucking him to orgasm. But she eventually decided against it although she wavered several times before eventually easing his cock from her mouth. She needed more. She wanted to taste his cum and there were few things, as yet, she’d encountered more exciting than having Jack lose control and empty his hot salty juice down her throat.

Jack had proved himself greedy for her in so many ways and she matched him. Their libidos were identical and neither wanted their sessions to end too quickly. Quickies, she knew, would be rare and oral sex would always be a prelude to much more.

She pumped his hefty, wonderfully-proportioned cock with her hand, leaning back and looking at it with an undisguised admiration, then scooted up the bed, propping herself on her elbows so she could watch him, her legs spread wide in invitation.

“Now, Jack. Fill me up. I need you,” she said.

Need you so much. Like I need you all the time now
.

He kneeled between her legs and lay atop her, his mouth finding hers, kissing her deeply, his tongue invading her mouth the second his cock thrust into her. She was so wet, so ready for him, there was no hesitation. She groaned deeply into their hungry kiss. They stayed that way, fused together in a lingering kiss while his hips thrust hard fast and deep, spearing her, spreading her wide and seemingly inflaming all her nerve endings at once.

She built quickly, faster than usual. There was no tenderness, lust overcame love, blindingly pushing all thoughts aside, just the emotion of desire propelling her forwards then, just as quickly, over the edge. By that time, he was kissing her neck as the thrusting continued aggresively. It was exactly what she wanted and needed. As her muscles gripped and contracted around his cock, her mind exploded.

“Shit,” she gasped. “Oh, god. Oh, that’s amazing.” Sandrine had no idea she was talking and would have denied it totally if reminded later.

Jack slowed and stopped, buried totally inside her, feeling her pulse around him, then slowly started again, deeply again but easing in and out at a sedate pace, propped on his elbows and taking most of his weight off her. He changed the angle of his hips, working only the head of his cock lightly and shallowly inside her.

Sandrine almost immediately knew something different was happening this time. The tumultuous crash of her orgasm had receded but she remained highly aroused and, as Jack continued moving inside her, she felt herself building again. It surprised her but she was far beyond the ability to control her responses and, as intense as the sensations were, wouldn’t have any intention of it even if she could. She merely went along for the ride, as it were.

Jack was totally in control. He was watching her face intently as he moved and a range of emotion flashed across it. It was like he was playing an instrument, certainly with the skill of a master, and the music, compelling and beautiful, was rippling through her.

In reality, it wasn’t all Jack. He was teasing her with his shallow strokes, moving just the head of his cock into her each time before withdrawing slowly. Sandrine was getting increasingly desperate, angling her hips upwards and trying to engulf his cock further but unable to by the weight of his groin against hers. The more she tried to move, the greater her hunger, and she was teasing herself just as much as Jack was.

As she was beginning to shake with the strain, as her eyes locked on his and she clenched her teeth with the effort, he drew back his hips and slammed deep into her, pumping with a savage intensity that, without warning, released another witheringly powerful orgasm that left her gasping.

Jack pulled free and lay beside her, cradling her gently in his strong arms. Sandrine’s heart was pounding relentlessly and her breathing was ragged. Jack held her in a tight embrace until her breathing returned to normal.

“Oh, oh, what is happening to me?” she asked, her voice cracked and hesitant.

“Did you enjoy that?”

She nodded, enthusiastic though weary.

“Never, never had anything like that before.”

“Seems like your body is far hungrier than you knew.”

“Not sure I can handle too many more like that.”

Jack kissed her affectionately on the forehead and traced a hand lightly down her body, playing with her breasts, circling the nipples, across her stomach and sketching a pattern on her pubic bone. As he leaned in to kiss her deeply, he scraped his fingernails up her thigh. She arched her body tightly into his and returned his kiss feverishly. Her arms latched around his neck and she crushed her breasts against his chest.

“God, what are you doing to me?”

“Experimenting. How does this feel?”

His insistent fingers softly traced the contours of her labia, dipping shallowly inside her, narrowly avoiding her hard clit, before penetrating her deeply and moving his palm against her puffy lips. Jack toyed further, trying variation upon variation, altering angle and repetition, extending from gentle to rough and back again until he found the perfect combination, all the time watching her closely, an amused detachment in his piercing hazel eyes, until Sandrine shuddered through a series of climaxes. Eventually, she had to beg him to stop.

You’ll kill me, Jack. I have no idea what’s happening, how you’re doing this but I love it.
But Sandrine also knew her own body and what she couldn’t quite believe was it was continuing to respond. She was in uncharted waters. This had never happened to her before. She was losing control, her sex drive was becoming monstrous and it seemed likely she’d chase climax after climax and as many orgasms as she could achieve until her heart exploded from the strain.

He held her again until her heartbeat settled. Sleep was beginning to wash over her. She was beyond rational thought, barely able to speak.

“Jack,” she implored in a small voice.

“Yes, baby?”

“Did you get the number of the truck that hit me?” Sleep engulfed Sandrine in an embrace as warm and welcoming as Jack’s.

Chapter Thirty Eight

Jack was standing by the bed, dressed in dark jeans and a black turtleneck sweater, a bulky bullet-proof vest velcroed tight to his chest. Gradually emerging from sleep, Sandrine was confused. She assumed Jack was still beside her but, when she extended her arm across the bed, found she was indeed alone and it wasn’t the fragment of some dream. He really was dressed and looming above her.

Momentarily shocked, she sat up and scooted against the quilted cream satin bed board. Multiple pinpoints of pain in her legs and hips were like suddenly being dowsed in ice water. She gasped and was dimly aware she was naked.

Jack eyed her and smiled sadly, trying to put her at ease.

“I’m sorry I startled you,” he said. “Go back to sleep.”

“No,” she argued. “What’s happening? What time is it? Where are you going?”

“An hour or so before dawn. We have an address for Sylvester. It’s out of town, an old estate on the Sound. We’re organising an assault. I have to go.”

This doesn’t make sense. What time is it?

“I don’t understand. We’ve only just gone to bed.”

“It’s been a few hours,” Jack said slowly and carefully.
Don’t treat me like an idiot
, her mind flared. “While we were sleeping, the office traced a series of wire transfers between a Brazilian bank and a local real estate company. Sylvester rented two properties, one in the city and the other upstate. We know where he is and Marcus must be with him. But we have to move quickly. I’m on my way to the heliport for a transfer.”

Without hesitation, Sandrine leapt from the bed. Sharper pains speared into her and she almost whimpered. She became entangled in the sheets and fell coming off the bed. Jack caught her nimbly and set her down again.

“Not a good idea. You’re not in the best shape and it’s far too dangerous anyway.”

She tried to push him aside but it was like moving a block of stone.

“No way. Marcus is in poor shape, his heart is weak and he’s already been through a lot. He’ll be calmer if someone familiar is there.”

She attempted to stand again but Jack pushed her down.

“Don’t you dare,” Sandrine exploded hotly. She tried to swing on him but, in her weakened state, it had all the savagery of a kitten. In her mind, she was an irresistible force, ready to protect her friend in any and every way possible but Jack was the immovable object. She looked up at him, anger radiating off her in waves. “You don’t understand. I need to be there. I know Marcus and how fragile he is. I can help keep him calm.”

“
You
don’t understand,” Jack countered, just as reluctant to lose ground in this confrontation. “You’re very precious to me. I don’t want you in danger. And you’re in no shape to go anywhere.”

“I’m fine. Better than fine once I take some painkillers. I’ll have plenty of time to rest up once Marcus is safe. And you’re wasting time arguing with me. I’m going with you and you’ll be on your way quicker if you don’t argue.”

Jack stood back, blinked, and went silent. The cogs were turning. Eventually, he nodded but he looked far from happy.

“I’m leaving in five minutes, with or without you. And I’d prefer it was without you,” he said finally.

“Fat chance,” Sandrine said as she launched herself off the bed, gritting her teeth against the massive pain that shot through her hip. She pulled on a pair of winter-weight jeans, a dark sweater and elastic-sided riding boots with Cuban heels, trying to ignore the dark bruising over much of her body that was reflected back at her from the mirror, and rushed into the bathroom where she had enough time to brush her teeth and wash down some painkillers before joining Jack in the kitchen.

He was clipping copper-tipped bullets into a slim metal magazine, adding it to a couple of magazines already on the kitchen table. Sandrine knew almost nothing about guns but could tell the difference between a pistol and a revolver and knew instinctively that Jack’s weapon was a pistol. Aside from that, it was big and looked deadly and she thought it would probably be perfect for the job at hand.

For someone who professed to such bookish pastimes, Jack seemed to know his way around a weapon. As she sipped coffee he’d prepared while she dressed, he stripped the pistol into several pieces, and inspected them carefully, especially the barrel.

“I suppose I’m being overly cautious. I cleaned this thoroughly a couple of days ago but I still like to check it as often as possible,” he said, reassembling it almost as fast as he’d taken it apart.