The Hierarchy of Needs (The Portland Rebels #2) (9 page)

“You like this,” he choked out. “Show me how much.”

She moaned again, and his next grunt broke on a shudder. His eyes drifted shut before snapping open again, like he was battling the urge to close them so he could keep watching.

He lost the fight.

His eyes slammed shut as he let out a hoarse groan, and Jamie welcomed the tang of his release. On her knees and immobile, she’d never felt more powerful, more wanted. She drew his orgasm out with deeper pulls of her lips and tongue, easing off when his grip in her hair loosened and his breath rushed out, gasping, spent.

She licked her lips and grinned up at him. “Have I sufficiently repaid you now?”

Dean peeled his eyes open, still short of breath. “For the moment.”

He drew her up by her elbows and wrapped his arms around her. Surprisingly sweet kisses lingered and grew deeper as he palmed her waist, his thumbs skimming over her belly. Jamie squirmed.

“Something you want?” he asked between kisses.

“You might be satisfied, big boy, but I’m going nuts over here.”

Dean’s smile spread beneath their kiss, and then he was quietly unbuttoning her jeans, patient as he pulled the zipper down.

Jamie went up on her tiptoes when he dragged the fabric down her legs, stepping out of them as he kicked off his boots and shoved their clothes to the side. He was completely naked while she was still in her bra and panties, but he didn’t seem in any way the vulnerable one, so big and burly and driving her crazy with his tongue. She lowered her hands to score his backside with her nails. He answered by making a leash out of her hair and snapping her head backward.

Jamie grunted, tiny shivers coursing through her.

“What is it about this?” he asked. “Why do you like it so much?”

She swayed slightly, sinking into the decadent pinch. “I don’t know. Feels good.”

“Hmmm.” He bent his head to her breast and nipped at her nipple through the satin. “I think it’s more than that.”

“You’re the Casanova,” she replied. “You tell me.”

He pressed himself fully against her, holding her between his body and the wall.

“I think it’s not about having your hair pulled or your arms trapped. You don’t want to just
come
. You want to be completely lost to the moment. A slave to it.”

His free hand snuck beneath the waistline of her panties, glancing over her clit.

“You want to shut your mind off. To have someone else take charge. To be able to stop thinking and feel, and this—” He fisted tighter. “—helps get you there.”

Jamie tried to absorb his words through the hazy fog of pleasure he’d put her in. Was that why it was always so good with him, why she felt so free when he took the reins? For years she’d craved being lost to it again, to be overcome by the rush. To feel wild, dangerous, and let loose that untamed part of her everyone else saw as the reason for her failure.

“I guess sometimes it’s nice to be able to completely let go.”

His brows shifted down low, but he didn’t say anything. Stripping away the last of her clothes, Dean walked her to the bed. He kissed her again and pressed her down onto it, fingers weaving through hers, clasping their hands together and drawing them once more over her head.

“Hands on the headboard,” he ordered softly. “Around the slats.”

She did as she was told, hooking them onto the wooden poles. Dean stepped away, returning a moment later with a condom, and his belt.

Her eyes widened.

“To keep you still and help you let go.” Dean knelt beside her and waited for her answer. “Yes?”

She paused, glancing at the belt, then back at him. She’d felt so liberated when it was Dean’s hands holding her down. Nothing would help her let go as much as being fully restrained.

She wanted this. Fuck yes, she wanted this.

Jamie offered him her hands. “Yes.”

He placed the condom on the nightstand, then carefully wrapped the belt around her wrists and slid the leather through the buckle. She closed her eyes when he brought her bound hands back above her head, feeling the pull as he looped the belt through the rungs, tugging once to remove any slack.

The backs of his knuckles stroked over her cheek. Jamie opened her eyes.

“You can pull free pretty easy if you get scared,” he said.

It felt snug enough. It was all the illusion she needed. “I trust you.”

Something in his expression softened, and he climbed on top of her again, pressing kisses downward until he reached her belly. He grinned when he nipped at her there, eyes glittering with mischief. For a second, Jamie couldn’t help wondering how many other girls he’d looked at like that. If that was the look that had made him a legend.

The thought vanished when he bent down and lapped at her clit.

Her hands lifted involuntarily, but the belt held her in place. She sank into the feeling, legs spreading wider, body twisting when he did something amazing with his tongue and tested how slick she was with the plunge of a single finger.

It was too much, too fast. She’d never come so quickly before, but he was a magician with his mouth. Gentle suction and flicks of his tongue combined with deep strokes over her G-spot drew her so swiftly to orgasm she barely had time to curse in surprise. Her back arched, the buckle jangling as she thrashed, body rolling with the force of all that pleasure. Dean helped her through it, his touch never ceasing until she collapsed against the blanket.

“Beautiful,” he said. “You are fucking beautiful.”

She smiled meekly, and he undid the belt. Her arms felt wobbly when he released her, but he was hard again and she wanted to touch. She wrapped her fingers around him, one slow pump before she squeezed. His eyelids drooped and he groaned.

“Condom?” she asked.

He panted through a smile. “You ready for more already?”

“I’ve been ready for six years.”

Dean stared at her until panic flashed in her gut. The worry that she’d gone too far, said too much, was an anvil on her chest, but then he reached for the foil wrapper on the nightstand. Jamie swore his hands were shaking when he ripped it open and sheathed himself.

Kneeling between her open thighs, Dean paused as his cock nudged her pussy, as if he were about to say something. A reminder that this was sex, nothing more. She grabbed his hips and pulled, cutting him off, not wanting to ruin the moment with a good, hard dose of reality.

They both moaned when he sank inside her.

“Fuck,” he ground out. “Jamie,
fuck
.”

He let her acclimate to the exquisite burn, easy moves back and forth until one slick thrust made him go taut with tension, a switch flipped inside him. He lifted one of her knees, drew back to change the angle and slid home so deep that Jamie’s hand slapped against the bed.

“Dean. God. Yes.”

The words came out like she was choking. It wasn’t just because of his size or skill, but because it was
him
, stretching her. Filling her. He surged again, and she reached for him with her other hand, wrapping her fingers around the back of his neck.

“Jamie.” Her name was nothing more than a grunt. “God, you feel so good.”

He wrapped her legs around him and started a rhythm, steadying himself with one arm braced against the mattress, the other fisting the blanket like it was already more than he could take. Jamie undulated beneath him, shocked by the rush of sensation. There was no way she could be about to come again, but it was there, pooling in her belly. Dean sped up, movements growing jerky. Jamie felt him tremble.

“Don’t stop,” she begged. “Please don’t stop.”

His eyes pressed tightly shut in a grimace of pleasure, he reached blindly for her hand and brought it between their slippery bodies. The first stroke of her fingertip over her clit found her sensitive and ready, and Dean dropped his forehead to meet hers, clutching the sheets with both hands.

“Holy shit,” he gasped. “Jamie…I’m not,
fuck
.”

His restraint gave way, and something about it pushed her over the edge too. Dean leaned in, silencing her cries of pleasure with a kiss. His arms locked with one last hard shiver, and he fell against her, shuddering breaths hot against her neck until they both finally calmed.

He disposed of the condom, then rolled onto his back beside her. Jamie curled against his chest and closed her eyes. His fingers roamed through her hair, easy now, tender, and he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

Right before sleep claimed her, she had the fleeting thought that it might not be so easy to deal with this weekend ending after all.

Chapter Nine

Dean woke up Saturday morning to find Jamie sleeping soundly next to him. It didn’t take long to remember pulling her to him the night before, when they’d collapsed in a sweaty heap after ordering room service, cracking up over some stupid TV show and having another hot-as-hell fuck session.

It didn’t take long for his cock to realize they were both still bare-ass naked, either.

He ignored it, turning instead to look at her.

Early morning sunlight stole in through a crack in the curtains, bathing her in its rays. Her skin seemed even darker against the contrast of the rumpled white sheets. Her body was insane, from her toned arms to the two matching dimples at the small of her back, the perfectly flat expanse of her stomach and the delicate navel he hadn’t been able to resist dipping his tongue into.

He’d felt like a super hero when he went down on her, practically drunk off the sounds of her pleasure. Last night blew him away, every second of it a dream come true. He’d imagined the hair-pulling thing was rooted in some kind of kinky vibe with her, a question that was answered when she talked about letting go. Dean wasn’t one hundred percent on what that was all about, but he knew how to push her buttons, and bringing out the belt took it to the extreme.

God, her eyes. The way they’d widened, her cheeks coloring with lust.

Jamie had always seemed like someone who might have the nerve, the “why the fuck not” kind of daring that would let her go there with him, but he’d never imagined it would be
that fucking good.
He’d been so turned on by the whole thing he’d come after two and a half minutes, like a goddamn teenager.

And she’d been right there with him.

Dean felt himself harden, his dick too excited to be within easy distance of its number one fantasy. He couldn’t believe they were actually doing this, and he wanted to ravage her as much as he wanted to savor her. To worship every inch, the way he’d dreamed about for so long.

She’d wanted it for six years too.

It shocked him, when she said that. He’d tried to find the words, some way to acknowledge he’d felt the same way. But it had been a risky moment, one that reminded him how much was at stake here, and Jamie had been smart to push past it.

They weren’t here to have feelings. They were here to fuck, plain and simple.

Well, he could give her that. He could fuck her until she couldn’t see straight. And as for him, he could let himself exist in this bubble of sunlight and cotton and her soft breathing a bit longer. They were out of town. Road trip rules applied. He could enjoy being like this with her for a little while.

Dean walked his fingers down the ladder of her ribs and teased over the hollow by her hip. Part of him wanted to see if he could get her hot enough to put on a show for him. He’d missed watching her touch herself last night because he was too busy trying to hold off. Looking at that wouldn’t have given him a shot in hell of lasting.

Later. Right now, he wanted to rock her world again.

Her breathing pattern shifted when his thumb found her cleft. Slowly coming out of sleep, she rolled onto her back. He parted her soft flesh with a teasing caress, opening her up for him.

She whispered his name. It wasn’t a word. It was a plea.

He stroked with firm, even circles, reveling in the unabashed noises of pleasure he drew from her, in the music of Jamie unraveled. It was like a drug, knowing he could get her there, and he drank in her startled gasps until her nails were digging into his arms and she was falling apart beneath him.

“Dean. Jesus Christ.”

An aftershock went through her. She brought a hand up to cover her face, but he pulled it away. A pink flush covered her cheeks. Her smile was mixed with a sudden shyness, curls a mess, eyes downcast. It was that deviant angel look again—half innocence, half pure sin, the perfect mix of sexpot and girl next door.

“You okay?” he asked.

“No. I’m dead. You’ve killed me.”

“Death by orgasm. I could think of worse.”

She giggled and pressed her face into his chest. Dean chuckled, a stupid wide grin on his face. It was weird, smiling this much. Like his mouth had forgotten how. He curled a lock of her hair around his fingers and pulled the strand until it became a taut line, then watched it spring into a spiral again.

“I love that your hair does that.”

Jamie groaned. “I hate my hair. It’s ridiculous.”

“It’s adorable.” He tugged lightly until she looked up at him. “And so are you.”

It was probably more than he should’ve said, but it was true.

She grinned and stretched. He tracked his gaze down her body. He’d gone down to half-mast, but it wouldn’t take much to fix that.

“What time is it?” She looked toward the clock on the nightstand and bolted upright. “Eight o’clock? I slept until eight o’clock?”

Dean propped his head up on his arm. “I wasn’t aware we were on a schedule.”

“We’re not. It’s just…” She turned back to him, wide-eyed. “I haven’t slept this late in a long time.”

He couldn’t help but smirk. “I think you were tired.”

“Guess so.” She ran a palm over his stomach, one finger dipping lower in a figure-eight tease. “Do I get to play again this morning?”

Fuck, yes.

“Depends.” He relaxed back onto the pillows, folding his arms behind his head. “You willing to play in the shower?”

She followed his moves, feint for parry, leaning over him. “I spend half my life underwater. You think I don’t know how to have fun when I’m wet?”

Oh, that was so happening. “Get your ass in the bathroom, Matthews.”

One long shower later, both of them satisfied and starving beyond belief, they were having a late breakfast in the hotel restaurant.

“We should probably eat something with protein,” Jamie said. “You know, to recover our strength.”

Dean laughed and checked over the menu. The prices were higher than he’d expected.

“Omelets are the cheapest,” she added, not meeting his eyes. “And the most likely to keep us full for a while.”

It pierced through him, this knowledge that she was cutting costs for him, something she probably never had to do on her own. She’d said it so casually too, like it was too insubstantial to warrant eye contact.

He appreciated the relief her suggestion brought.

And he absolutely fucking hated it.

It had been a sobering week for the business, as a depressingly detailed review of the books had shown. But Dean knew it was pointless to make any suggestions to his father, and he’d been happy to get away for a few days and not deal with the pressure. He’d coughed up the cost of the room, taking a chunk out of his paycheck to cover it, figuring he could continue to survive on PB and J and cereal until the next one came in. He’d nearly asked Jamie to look for a less expensive place, but offering her a glimpse into his financial state would’ve been too serious a blow to his pride.

He didn’t want her to know how bad things were.

His mood changed when they finished eating and went outside. The inn was pressed up against the bay, the surface of the water like crystal, the landscape behind them alive with the robust colors of autumn.

“Why don’t you take some pictures today?” Jamie asked when they climbed into his truck. “I saw your camera in the back, and it seems like a nice day for it.”

Dean didn’t answer at first, busying himself by starting the engine and letting it idle, not wanting to run it too hard in the cold. He hadn’t planned on using the camera again. He’d wiped the memory card after having the pharmacy save the images of Sean’s wedding to a flash drive, then charged up the battery with the intention of selling the stupid thing altogether.

It was a part of his life he needed to bury, shove dirt over its grave and walk away from for good. But Jamie’s request made him want to keep that casket open a little while longer.

“You could get a shot of me sprawled out on some old car,” she joked.

Dean huffed out a laugh, his sex drive exhausted enough to file the idea away for later. A different kind of thrill ratcheted up his pulse, one that involved revving engines, classic tunes, and the chance to capture it all on film.

What harm could it do? If road trip rules applied to him and Jamie, they could apply to taking pictures too. He could go back to his regularly scheduled programming when they got home.

“Okay,” he said as he pulled out of the lot. “You talked me into it.”

It seemed like all of New Hampshire had come out for the fair. Dean found parking on a side street and retrieved his camera. They paid their entrance fees and treaded toward the lines of shiny bumpers. Rows of classic cars gleamed in the sun, their hoods lifted, colorful paint jobs shining.

Jamie plowed through the carpet of leaves covering the ground, kicking them in the air as she walked.

“We here to look at anything specific?” she asked.

“Nah. I just wanted to see all these things of beauty before their owners put them into storage for the season.”

“Things of beauty?”

“Hell yeah.” Dean leaned into the interior of a Model T, snapping a shot of its shiny white-and-red steering wheel. “You don’t see it?”

“Not really. It just looks old.”

“They are old, but someone took the time to polish them up and help them reclaim their former glory.” He nabbed a shot of a toddler being hefted up by a parent, a look of wonder in her eyes as she peeked inside a vehicle built decades before she was born.

“Is that what you want to do?” she asked. “Fix up old cars?”

Dean hesitated. He devoted so much energy to ignoring what he wanted. Talking about what he did want was like ripping a bandage off a painful, oozing scar.

“Maybe.” He kept his tone light, not letting his words touch that nerve. “I mean, it’s the art to them that I like. Not fixing up busted wrecks for the lowest price.”

“You did always like art.”

Dean lifted his camera again, and kept his gaze trained through the viewfinder. It was so much easier to be honest with a lens between him and the outside world.

“Yeah. I did.”

“Why’d you stop?”

The question was a punch he didn’t have time to see coming, one he needed a minute to recover from. Several heartbeats passed before he could reply.

“I had to.”

“Why?”

“I need you in the garage, son. I just wanted to make sure you realized that.”

Dean swallowed. “Because of my dad.”

They stopped walking. He lowered the camera when Jamie stepped in close. Despite the people and conversations and music around them, everything seemed to get quiet.

“What did he do?” she asked.

He tried to keep in the anger, the frustration at having been chained to something he didn’t hate but could no longer love, not when he’d never had the option of choosing it.

“He told me photography was a great hobby and all, but that was it. The garage was my future.”

She frowned. “You didn’t ever tell him no?”

Dean shook his head and looked out at the cars, the people. Everything except Jamie’s concerned expression.

“It’s a family business. I couldn’t walk away from that, especially after what my father put into it. He lost his marriage over it, all to keep it alive for me. I owed it to him to give it my all. So that’s what I did.”

Even though it felt more like a prison sentence than anything else.

He didn’t tell her the rest. About exactly when that decree had been handed down. How it had made him end things with her when it was the opposite of what he wanted.

Jamie fit her hand snugly around his and squeezed. His gaze dropped to hers.

“Come on,” she said with a smile. “Show me more of what you love about these old wrecks so we can go have some real fun.”

Her words made his cock twitch. It felt good, to let her pull him into being playful again.

“You didn’t have enough fun this morning?”

“Not
that
kind of fun.” She pointed toward the fairgrounds. “There’s a carousel over there. We’re not going back to the hotel until we’ve eaten a ton of cotton candy and then nearly puked it up on one of the rides.”

He tugged her close so his lips hovered by her ear. “No offense to cotton candy or anything, but fucking you until you’re screaming sounds like a lot more fun to me.”

She pushed him away and started walking, but she was blushing, her ears bright pink. Man, he liked knowing he got to her. Dean chuckled and followed her into the crowd.

They trekked through the cars and he took tons of photographs, gawking over collector car profiles and winning stickers in the windshields. They came upon a ’54 Packard Clipper convertible, the owner beside it with a white beard and a radio playing Warrant’s “Cherry Pie”. He’d heard the song more times in the garage than he could count.

Jamie recognized it right away and began singing along. Dean raised an eyebrow.

“What? Sean was always blasting big hair band music,” she said, then asked the owner if Dean could take a picture of her in the car.

He obliged, and she hopped into the backseat, sprawling herself across the leather in a way that made Dean wonder why the hell he’d let her leave the hotel room in the first place.

Once they’d made their way through the rest of the vehicles, she dragged him to the midway, gleeful as she clung to the solid mane of a ceramic horse. She asked him to join her, but he elected to stay back and take pictures.

Only half of them were of her.

She bought them a funnel of spun sugar after that to share. It was the size of her head, and she happily ate more than her half, licking the sticky remains off her fingers when she finished. She tugged him to a shooting game next and won herself a teddy bear. Triumphant, Jamie blew air off the tip of her plastic gun and winked at him, saying the cowgirl boots she had on helped her do it.

Dean laughed and took in what she was wearing when she turned around to claim her toy. Light brown boots, leggings that clung to every luscious curve, a thick purple sweater that outlined her hourglass shape.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Dean realized how nicely she always dressed, but the larger portion of his brain was fixated on how she’d ushered him into the bathroom when she’d gotten dressed that morning, not letting him see what she was wearing underneath it yet.