White Collared Part One: Mercy (11 page)

He cried out as, over and over, come jettisoned from his cock, and she greedily swallowed it all. High on the satisfaction of causing his strong climax, she licked her lips and grinned up at him.

From behind hooded lids, his eyes followed the movement of her tongue. He stripped off his shirt, revealing the glorious chest underneath. Between his flat, brown nipples, a light dappling of hair covered his chest, trailing to the dark curls surrounding his half-erect penis.

He fixed his hands under her arms and yanked her to her feet. As he kissed and nibbled at the sensitive spot under her ear, his nimble fingers got to work divesting her of the blouse. Desperate for his touch, her nipples poked against the fabric of her bra. He brushed his fingertips across her collarbone, so agonizingly light that if her eyes had been closed she’d swear a feather danced across her skin.

She shivered with arousal, desperately wanting to force his hand to her breast. His fingers drifted down her sternum. He spread his fingers over her small breasts and held them there.

Not. Doing. Anything
.

Reminding her of who truly held the power.

The muscles inside her pussy tightened, eliciting a small whimper that tugged up his lips in satisfaction. Only then did he finally move, the rough pad of his thumb caressing her nipple through her bra, touching her as if this was the first time he’d ever touched a woman. So soft and so reverently, she could cry. She had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from demanding more.

With a flick of his wrist, he unclasped her bra with one hand and slid the straps down her shoulders. He lowered his head to her breast and slipped a nipple into his mouth. Her hands itched to plunge into his thick hair and clasp him to her, but she sensed if she did, he’d stop.

He peered up behind his long lashes.

And bit her.

The wet folds between her thighs fluttered, and a foreign sound erupted from her throat. He soothed the bite with tiny licks and then sucked the bud into his mouth so tightly it teetered on the edge of pain. Tension built low in her belly. She was going to come, and he hadn’t even touched her below the waist. Moving to her other breast, he gave it the same treatment. Her inner muscles throbbed. She ached for something to fill her. His fingers. His cock. She didn’t care at this point. Whatever he wanted to give her. She’d take it. She’d die without it.

As the storm raged outside, the wind whistling and hail pummeling the windows, an even greater storm raged within. But as the orgasm began to stir, Jax stopped. Cradled her face between his hands. And stared at her as if deciding what to do next.

She whimpered, not caring if it made her seem weak. Right now she’d let him do anything he wanted to her. Anything but stop.

“Jax?” Not knowing the rules, she took one hand from her face and kissed his fingertips.

His eyes fluttered shut and he sighed. She laved the webbing between his fingers with her tongue, tasting the salt on his skin. His hands were large and his nails even, as if he’d had them manicured. But they were far from unblemished. Tiny white scars, of varying sizes, marred both sides of his hand.

His eyes shot wide open.

Dangerous.

Hungry.

Predatory.

He dropped to his knees and smoothed her slacks down over her damp thighs. Now flush with her drenched, white lace panties, he growled low in his throat, pressing a gentle kiss directly above her clit, and then he rolled her panties down her legs. His nose bumped her slit as he deeply inhaled, his grumble of appreciation easing all of her insecurities.

Using the top of his head, he propelled her to the bed, the silk of his hair like a whisper across her skin. He eased her to the edge and pressed his hands to her belly, bending her back to lie on top of the comforter and then spreading her thighs for his perusal. Her fingers curled into the blankets as she waited for him to relieve the pulsing in her pussy.

“I need to taste you, Katerina. I’ve been dreaming . . .” He didn’t finish his sentence but instead swiped his tongue up one side of her labia and then the other. “You’re so wet. You want this don’t you? Tell me you want me.”

“I do.” Her hips bucked in search of his mouth. “I want you, Jax.”

“Fuck,” he muttered, stretching the lips of her vagina with his fingers, baring the heart of her core. “You got me, baby. You fucking got me.” His tongue probed inside her tight channel, teasing her like a little cock. She arched in an attempt to take him deeper, but he restrained her with an arm over her pelvis, holding her in place.

As if she were in the last mile of a marathon, she gasped for air, a heavy pressure lodging in her chest, her heart sprinting. Sweat beaded on her forehead.

Not now, damn it.
She refused to let the anxiety steal this from her.
Jax won’t hurt me.

When he pulled back the clitoral hood, exposing her tiny bud and gently flicking the tip of his tongue over it, all thought drained from her mind. The discomfort in her chest lifted, and although her heart continued to race, liquid heat flowed like lava in her belly, pressure winding into taut coils.

Murmurs of approval reverberated in Jax’s throat as he lapped up the proof of her desire, driving her closer and closer to the edge of the cliff. A thick finger slipped inside, stretching her, testing her readiness. “Your pussy’s like a drug. I’ll never get enough.”

His hair tickled her thighs as his lips descended over her sensitive bundle of nerves and sucked it between his teeth. Another finger joined the first, rubbing against a pleasurable spot high inside her channel, electrifying her. Her body shaking, the coils finally snapped, and she fell off the cliff into the ocean, overcome with wave after wave of contractions so strong, they bordered on pain.

She heard the ripping of the condom package, and then Jax was on her, sliding up her body until the head of his erect cock nudged her opening. Still shuddering with the aftershocks of her climax, she hooked her ankles around his waist and took him deep inside, reigniting the flames as if she hadn’t come at all. His cock stretched her beyond comfortable, filling her. Completing her.

A round, puckered scar high on his right shoulder caught her attention. Tracing it with her finger, she silently questioned him with her eyes. Was that from a bullet?

“We all carry scars. Some are just more visible than others.” Without elaborating, he dipped his head to gently kiss her, bracing his weight on his arms so he would not crush her.

A sharp sting on her shoulder tore her from her thoughts. She yelped as he bit harder into her flesh and then pinched the side of her breast until she sucked in a breath. The pain morphed into a blazing heat, and her vaginal muscles clenched around his cock.

Gliding in and out of her soaked channel, he watched for her reactions, seriousness banked in his gaze. When he bumped her cervix, she cried out, her fingers digging into the skin of his back deep enough to draw blood. He grazed her nipple with his teeth and swirled his tongue around the areola while he slipped his hand between them. Two fingers worked her swollen clit, rubbing, circling, and stroking.

Boneless, weightless, and mindless, she closed her eyes, hovering on the precipice of climax. His lips descended over hers in a bruising, claiming kiss, and his tongue plundered, mirroring the actions of his cock, driving her higher and higher.

“Come again, Katerina. Come now.” He pinched her clit and bit her nipple until an explosion of light flashed behind her eyelids.

Her body bowed off the bed, and she shattered, splintering into a million pieces. This orgasm was completely different from her first, not as deep or as sharp, but equally as pleasurable.

Over and over, her pussy clamped down on his cock, and this time she watched
him
as his face contorted into a mix of pleasure-pain, eyes shut, brows furrowed, deep lines crinkling his forehead, and perspiration trailing down the side of his face.

With a shout, he shuddered, climaxing so violently she felt the pulsations inside her. She smoothed the plastered hair off his face and rained kisses down his jaw to his fluttering pulse point in his neck. He rolled off her and gathered her in his arms, staring up at the ceiling.

As a messed-up teenager, she’d fumbled with boys in the backseats of cars, the windows fogging as they groped each other with inexperienced and clumsy hands. Boys who took what she gave freely at that age, her need to feel loved by someone, anyone her only goal. Too young to know better, her body didn’t soften, didn’t dampen.

Then she’d had decent sex with men like Tom, which achieved mutual orgasms without dirtying the sheets or requiring a shower to clean the mix of sweat and bodily fluids from their bodies.

No question, the sex with Jax had been phenomenal. Better than when she’d placed first in her Moot Court Competition. But still, something felt . . . off. They’d made love. Tenderly. She’d expected sex with Jax to be the equivalent of a double-hot-fudge-cookie-dough sundae with extra whipped cream. Except for those couple of bites and pinches, their lovemaking had been closer to French vanilla.

“Jax? Can I ask you a question?” she asked.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Of course. You can ask me anything.”

She took a deep breath. “Did you hold back with me?”

He went completely still and a look of pain crossed his face. Then he got off the bed and started dressing.

“Jax—”

“I’m sorry. This was a mistake.” His tone was flat. Lifeless.

“I don’t understand. Where are you going?” She picked up a nightshirt off her floor and threw it on. “Talk to me, damn it. You owe me at least that much.”

He took a step closer and reached out for her before shaking his head and dropping his hand to his side. “I’m sorry. I can’t . . . I’m just so sorry.” He turned his back on her and strode out of the room.

Completely gutted, she held back her tears and fell to her knees. Every molecule in her body screamed for her to drag him back to bed and fuck the answer out of him, but she couldn’t ignore the agony in his eyes or the way his shoulders had drooped in defeat. It didn’t matter how much she wanted to soothe and comfort him.

In making love with a client tonight, she’d risked her internship. Her career.
Nick.

And for what?

Jax didn’t want her. But for a few precious minutes in his arms, she’d forgotten the lesson drilled deep inside her soul at fourteen.

No one wanted her.

After all, she was a mistake.

Chapter Twelve

T
HE WIND HOWLED
and rain pattered on the bedroom window. As a warning that she’d soon lose power, her bedroom lights flickered. Happened all the time in this rickety building.

She usually loved rainy nights.

But not tonight.

Tonight the rain reminded her of all she’d never have. All she’d lost.

Without Jaxon, her apartment seemed darker. Quieter. Colder.

If not for the delicious twinge between her thighs, she could almost convince herself she’d imagined making love with him.

But they had made love. And she wanted to do it again.

And again.

And again.

What was it about the way he’d moved inside her that made sex different with him than with previous lovers? Was that what it was like to make love to a Dominant?

Except the sex had lacked the kink she’d expected. Yes, he’d played her body like he was its master, but he hadn’t demanded her obedience. Hadn’t flogged or bound her.

Not that it wasn’t the greatest sex of her life because it was. Her back ached from his weight on her, her nipples throbbed from his bites, and her thighs were sticky with remnants of their joining. Quite different from the sterile lovemaking she’d experienced with Tom and the drugged-out, hazy sex of her teenage years.

What had caused him to run from her? Guilt? Regret? Or was she a dud in the sack as Hannah had suggested?

Awareness slowly seeped into her consciousness. She looked at herself and realized she was on her knees, naked from the waist down. Needing a candle and lighter, she stood, her legs shaking like a newborn foal’s, and opened her nightstand drawer. As she withdrew the items, her gaze fell on her vibrator, taunting her with the memory of Jaxon licking his lips when she’d told him about it.

Shivering, she ignored the sex toy and instead lit the candle and set it on her dresser.

Lightning flashed followed by an immediate boom of thunder that shook the walls of her room. Darkness flooded her apartment.

Eerie silence made her more aware of her rapid breathing.

Times like these, she wished she had a roommate. Or a really big dog.

At least she’d lit the candle before her power went out.

The first notes from Beethoven’s Fifth cut through the silence and she jumped, knocking her elbow into the dresser.

Her cell phone’s ring for an unknown caller.

She hesitated, her hand clenching into a tight fist against her belly as if trying to hold wild butterflies inside.

Most likely a wrong number. But what if it was Jaxon?

She lifted the candle and ambled to the couch to retrieve her phone from her purse. By the time she dug it out, she’d missed the call. She checked the display, perplexed to see her own number listed as the caller.

Her hands shook, and she dropped her phone on the carpet.

Damn it. This wasn’t the first time she’d sat alone in the dark. All she needed was a panic attack to make her night complete.

She dug in her purse and flicked open her handy Tic Tac dispenser. Definitely a double kind of night. She tossed her antianxiety meds into her mouth and flinched when her phone rang again.

She snatched it from the floor and answered without checking the caller ID. “Hello?”

“Kate?” Hannah sniffed as if she’d been crying.

Anger surged to the surface. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

Another sniff. “Then don’t talk. Just listen. I’m so sorry I hurt you. Can you ever forgive me?”

Kate sighed and massaged her temple. “No.”

“Never?” Hannah’s voice changed from pitiful to incredulous, as if it had never entered her mind that she’d lose their friendship over sleeping with Kate’s boyfriend.