Ransom (Dead Man's Ink Series Book 3) (3 page)

“You still sleeping, Prospect?” Jamie whispers into my hair. Sunlight lances through the gap between the heavy curtains, casting long fingers of gold and white across our bodies and up the opposite wall. Dust motes hover in the still air, refracting the light. I’ve been watching them spin for the past twenty minutes, enjoying the way Jamie’s naked body feels tangled up in mine, while I’ve listened to his heartbeat beneath my ear. It’s always the same: slow and steady, never erratic or unpredictable. It calms me. No matter what’s going on in our lives, no matter how much shit seems to be raining down on us, he’s always there, steady like his heart beat, always watching over me.
 

“Mmm. You’ll never get tired of that, will you?” I whisper.
 

He strokes a hand lightly over my hair. “What?”

He knows exactly what I’m talking about, but I humor him all the same. “Calling me Prospect,” I say, prodding him in the side. Ever since that night in the desert after we buried Raphael together, the night he agreed that I could prospect for the Widow Makers, he’s taken great delight in calling me that name. He finds it amusing that his girlfriend has to bend over backwards twenty-four seven in an attempt to be accepted into his motorcycle club.
 

“I guess not,” he says softly, stroking his hand up and down my bare side, making me shiver a little. “It’s good to know you have to behave yourself and do as your told. What can I say? This power I hold over you has gone to my head.”

He’s so fucking ridiculous. He knows I rarely do as I’m told, and he knows I rarely behave myself. He’s clearly asking for trouble. I can hear the smile in his voice, taunting me. I tilt my head so I can graze his chest with my teeth, biting down a little. “You’re dreaming, buddy.”

“Such a pleasant dream, though.” He moves quickly, shifting out from underneath me, throwing one leg over mine and pinning me to the mattress. Taking hold of both my hands, he secures my wrists high above my head. Not for the first time, the pale icy blue of his eyes shocks me. They’re beautiful. Haunting. He’s so incredible I can hardly bear it. His torso, packed with muscle, is covered in tattoos—some in Farsi, some in English. Two colorful birds rest on either side of his pecs, and an intricate skull complete with thorns and roses covers his side. Beneath, the words:
Forgive Me Father, For I Have Sinned.
 

The last tattoo is fairly ironic, given that Jamie could care less about his father. Or these days he doesn’t, anyway. Louis James Aubertin II is a megalomaniac. One of the most vile, spiteful people I’ve ever come across. How Jamie didn’t end up the same way is a mystery. He leans down, rubbing the tip of his nose against mine. “Were you planning on riding your Ducati today?” he asks.
 

I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”

“Good.” He sucks my bottom lip into his mouth and bites down hard. “I’m about to fuck you senseless, sugar. By the time I’m done with you, you’re not gonna be able to sit down properly for a week.”

Heat flowers all over my body. God, I don’t know how he still does this to me. I have a very limited frame of reference—my ex, Matt, was hardly the most sexual person on the face of the planet—but I’m pretty sure most people grow comfortable with each other. The intensity of first love burns off, to be replaced by something calmer and deeper if you’re lucky. But with him, with Jamie, that hasn’t happened. The fire that existed between us from the very beginning still remains, burning strong, coupled with such a fathomless love that only seems to strengthen as the seconds pass. I never knew a person could feel like this and stay sane. The power of such a love constantly feels like it’s about to overwhelm me, rob me of my senses, take what little control I have left within me and dash it into pieces. And it feels incredible.
 

Jamie shakes his head as he looks down at me. He has this way of staring into me that makes my head spin. I don’t feel like I’m
me
when he looks at me like this. From the expression on his face, it seems as though he’s seeing something magnificent and beautiful for the very first time and it’s bringing him to his knees. There’s no way he can be seeing
me
, the girl he calls sugar. I’ve seen myself in the mirror, after all. I know I’m not an entirely unattractive girl, but Jamie’s reaction to me always takes me by surprise. Dipping down, he presses his mouth against mine and hums. I love kissing this man. Our bodies were made for each other, and so were our mouths. When he kisses me, it feels like I’m coming alive. I melt into the bed, allowing my body to fall limp as he increases the pressure of his lips against mine. His bare chest brushes against mine, making my nipples tighten and grow hyper sensitive, and Jamie breathes out hard—I can see the way the contact affects him, his skin breaks out in goose bumps.
 

He’s so warm. Groaning softly, he lowers himself down onto me and I feel like I’m suddenly on fire, prickling all over from the heat he’s kicking out of his body. Using one knee, Jamie pushes my legs apart and adjusts his position so that he’s in between them. His cock is hard already, trapped between our bodies, placed in a position that sends waves of excitement through me. He angles his hips up and presses forward, and it feels like my whole body is surging with electricity. My clit is already swollen, my pussy already wet—Jamie feels just how wet I am and swears under his breath.
 

“Jesus Christ, Soph. You have no idea what that does to me. Fuck. You’re always so ready for me. Always so turned on. You’re so fucking sexy. I can smell it on you.”

A long time ago, I would have blushed at this. I would have tried to hide my face in embarrassment, buried myself under the covers and tried not to break down from mortification. Now, I know better. I know that he really does mean it. When I’m turned on, he’s turned on. It works both ways. And he’s right—he can smell how turned on I am, because I can smell it on him, too. He smells like sex in the very best way. His body puts out the most intense, amazing scent when he’s about to fuck me, and my own body responds in kind. It drives me absolutely crazy.
 

“D’you wanna get punished now, Soph?” Jamie licks at my lips, tracing the tip of his tongue over my mouth, and I can’t help myself. I arch my back up off the bed, crushing my breasts against his body, moaning.
 

“That depends. How are you going to punish me?”

“You’re not cleared for that information, I’m afraid.” He nips at my top lip, pinching my flesh between his teeth just hard enough to make me cry out. “But I can show you if you’d like. Sound good?”

I nod, breathless, and Jamie grins wickedly. “Good girl. Why don’t you start off by showing me how well behaved you’re going to be?” He may know that I never really do as I’m told as a prospect for the club, but in this situation Jamie is king and I am his humble servant. It thrills me to give him what he wants. It excites me to the point of insanity to obey him in every way. Jamie knows this all too well. “Suck,” he says, opening his mouth. He darts his tongue past my lips and I do as I’m told, sucking his tongue, licking at his mouth, trying not to get too ahead of myself just yet.
 

My arms are starting to ache in the most delicious fucking way. He’s still holding them high over my head, pinning them to the pillow above us, and my wrists are burning. He won’t let go unless I ask him to, and I’m not about to do that. I love feeling vulnerable with him. I love feeling like he has absolute control. He’s so much bigger than me, stronger, more commanding. He could really hurt me if he wanted to, and something about that knowledge tips me over the edge every time. I know with every molecule of my body that he never
would
hurt me. He makes threats and sometimes even promises, but it’s all bullshit. Under no circumstances would he ever do anything I didn’t want him to do, especially if it might cause me harm.
 

Jamie groans as I suck a little harder on his tongue. He pulls back and ducks down, nuzzling into the crook of my neck so he can bite and kiss me there. My neck is my biggest weakness. My whole body hums with excitement, goose bumps everywhere, as he uses his teeth and his tongue on me, sucking, making me pant as he grinds himself against me between my legs.
 

Letting my hands go, he leans back, palming his cock. “Roll onto your stomach,” he tells me.
 

Oh god. This is going to be so intense. I turn over, planning on sliding my legs in between his so that he’s straddling me, but Jamie has other plans. He grabs me by the ankles and spreads my legs again, jerking me toward him as he pulls me down the bed. I’m exposed, open to him, my pussy laid bare as he continues to stroke his hand up and down his erection. “Fuck, Soph. You are in some serious trouble right now, girl. I’d apologize ahead of time, but I get the feeling you’re going to like this.”

I should probably protest. As the Widow Makers’ prospect, it’s my job to prepare breakfast for everyone in the mornings. Just one of the shitty tasks I have to complete without bitching. If I bitch, I add time onto my term as a non-member of the club. Letting Jamie have his way with me right now will make me late, and being late to put food in front of twenty hungry bikers is a very bad idea. But still…I can’t do it. I can’t say no. This is going to be too delicious.
 

“You could still apologize,” I tell him. “At least pretend you’re sorry that you’re about to get me into trouble.”

Behind me, Jamie growls. “No way, Sugar. I don’t hand out apologies unless they’re one hundred percent necessary. You can get your ass up and go start scrambling eggs if you like. I’d prefer not to, but I can finish off this job by myself if you have someplace to be.” He slaps my right ass cheek, making me hiss.
 

The pain is both shocking and amazing at the same time. “Sounds about right,” I say though gritted teeth, smiling, waiting for the burning pins and needles to subside. “I’m sure you’d be just as satisfied if you jerked off and had a Kleenex moment, wouldn’t you? I’m basically surplus to requirement.”
 

“Not true. Sinking my cock into your pussy is definitely way more fun than taking care of business myself. But, y’know. I’m a guy. I’ve had a lot of fucking practice. I’m pretty good at making myself come.”

“You’re pretty good at making
me
come, too.”

“Damn straight.” Jamie takes hold of me by the hips, pulling at me so that my ass is sticking up in the air. “I plan on having a lot more practice at that, too.”
 

I flush with embarrassment, and then with heat as I feel his fingers skate over my ass cheeks and then in between them, touching first my pussy and then bringing his hand back, tracing the tips of his fingers up, over my asshole. We haven’t really done this before. Not often, anyway. Jamie knows it’s taboo for me, knows how turned on I have to be for him to even approach that area of my body. My palms are already sweating as he applies a slight pressure, rubbing the pad of his thumb against me, teasing but not pushing inside.
 

“You’re wet for me, Soph,” he says under his breath. “I can fucking
see
how wet you are for me, and it’s fucking beautiful. Can you feel it?”

I shudder, trying to calm my breathing. “Yes. Yes, I can feel it.”

“Do you want me to taste it?”

I’m convinced that no one on the face of the planet has ever been turned on as badly as I am right now. It’s as though I can feel the need flowing through my veins with every elevated, frantic beat of my heart. He’s going to destroy me one of these days. “Yes. Fuck, yes. Do it.”

“
Mmm
.” Jamie makes a savage snarling sound at the back of his throat as he scoots back so he can gain access to me with his mouth. His tongue is hot and persuasive as he licks at my clit. “Goddamnit, Soph. I’ll never get over this. I never will. You taste so fucking good. I wanna eat your pussy all day long.”

I’m inclined to let him. He’s so fucking good at it. My body sings with anticipation as he rubs at the entrance of my pussy; I know he’s going to slide his fingers inside me soon, and I know how amazing it’s going to feel. My breath stutters out of me when he does it; he finds my g-spot immediately, curving his fingers down and forward at the same time so that I can feel the unique, intense pressure that always starts to build when he massages that spot inside me.
 

When we first started sleeping together, Jamie told me I hadn’t come properly, and he was right. Ever since then, he’s shown me time and time again that my climaxes can only get better and better. He’s had me howling and begging all over the compound, desperate for release while he administers the sweetest, most intense sexual torture to my body. Right now is no different.

 
“Shit, Jamie. Oh my god.”

“That’s right, baby. That’s right. Let go for me. I wanna feel you letting go.” I only grow tenser as he carries on laving and sucking at my clit, though. He pumps his fingers inside me, swearing quietly when he feels my pussy contract around him. “You getting close?” he asks.
 

If I wanted to, I could probably quit trying to hold onto my sanity with such determination and allow myself to succumb to the orgasm I can feel building. I don’t want to yet, though. I’m not ready for this to be over. I want him inside me when I come. I want to feel weakened and at his mercy as I slip beneath the waves of my pleasure. I shake my head. “Not yet. Please, not yet.”

Behind me, he laughs. It’s the most sensual, thrilling sound—it sends chills racing all over my skin. “You’re a glutton for punishment, sweetheart. How hard do you want me to make you come?”

“Really fucking hard.”

“So hard you can’t stand?”

“Yes.”

“So hard you can’t remember your own name.”

“Yes.”

“So hard I have to change theses sheets when we’re done?”

I close my eyes, pressing my face into the very sheets he’s talking about. I have them balled up in both my clenched fists. “God, yes,” I hiss.