Your To Take - Connaghers 03 (9 page)

Chapter Ten

Days and weeks blended together in a blur as Vicki worked to
get her line ready for the commercial and the upcoming show. She lost count of
the long hours she and her seamstress spent on the signature gown and the new
men’s shirts, but through it all, Jesse was there.

Not constantly, thank goodness—for she would have lost her
sanity and succumbed to temptation long ago. Long sessions with the therapist
Victor had recommended kept Jesse out of sight, and the work helped keep him
out of her mind. She went once a week herself, even though she couldn’t really
spare the time with the show only weeks away. Some of the questions were
hitting too close to home.

Why don’t you like to talk about your relationship with
your mother? What’s keeping you from a committed relationship with Elias?

She knew on both accounts. She just didn’t like to talk
about it, which evidently was the whole point.

Speaking of Elias, she hadn’t seen him in several nights
because of a major drug case he was working on. He didn’t even have time to
stop by for a quickie or a shower, but he did make a point to call every day.
Although absent, he was connected, unlike their previous separation, but his
solid presence wasn’t there to keep her attention occupied. His body wasn’t
there to keep her distracted, and her libido was set on a constant rumbling
roar.

Even the work, while frantic and stressful, was welcome,
because it kept her hands busy with something other than Jesse.

He stood still and quiet as she buttoned the fitted
turquoise shirt up his chest, helpfully tilting his head back so she could
fasten the high collar. Even while she tied the neck cloth about his throat,
she didn’t really let herself see him. When she finally stepped back and let
her gaze take him in, she couldn’t tear her eyes off him.

His eyes glowed like living jewels, perfectly set off by the
color of the shirt. With his hair tumbled about his shoulders and the tight
black breeches she’d borrowed from VCONN’s costume department, he looked like a
young well-to-do lord from the nineteenth century. Nipped in tight at his waist
but long and full in the sleeves, the shirt managed to give him elegance and
old-world charm without making him look too feminine.

And his eyes. Damn it. She couldn’t escape his eyes.

He said nothing. He didn’t have to. The results from his
first trip to the doctor had been clean except for some kind of intestinal
parasite he’d picked up, combined with general anemia and malnutrition. He’d
gone back after a round of antibiotics, and he’d put on twenty pounds and
cleaned up his stomach.

Nothing would keep her from taking him.

Nothing but sheer desperation to keep him at arm’s length as
long as possible.

She heard the therapist’s calm, clinical voice in her head.
Jesse
is fully committed to you and he articulates very clearly what he wants and
needs from your relationship. He’s not conflicted. You are.

Swallowing hard, she stepped to the side and waved a hand at
the full-length mirror. “What do you think?”

He laughed softly. “I don’t even recognize myself. I never
thought I’d wear silk let alone something handmade by the most…”

He allowed the words to trail off and didn’t finish the
sentence. He must have seen the ragged tension in her body language, reflected
back a thousand-fold in the mirror. Dark and solemn, his eyes said what he couldn’t
voice. They spoke of need, agonizing need. Elias hadn’t spent the night in
nearly a week, but it wouldn’t have made a difference for either of them.

Jesse needed something her lover wouldn’t…couldn’t…give
either of them.

Shame knotted her stomach. If she wasn’t such a coward,
she’d be meeting his needs. He depended on her for housing and his job as her
model, despite the five-thousand-dollar check she’d put into a bank account for
him with the promise of a percentage of the shop’s earnings going forward.
More, though, he depended on her for his physical needs. Needs that no one else
understood, let alone could actually satisfy.

No one but me.

She knew it. He knew it. Hell, even Elias knew it. Ignoring
the vicious ache of need clenching every muscle in her body when she looked at
him wasn’t fooling anyone.

Least of all myself.

She turned away from those haunting eyes and pretended
interest in the sketches he’d done for her on the high worktable. In the
mirror, she watched his shoulders droop with disappointment. “Take off your
clothes except for my shirt.”

In a second, he snapped from despondency to desperate,
boundless hope. Without a single question or hesitation, he stripped off the
tight pants, taking whatever underwear he might have worn along with them. It
took all her self-control not to turn around and gobble him up with her eyes.
Instead, she clutched a pen in her hand so hard her fingers hurt. She still
wasn’t exactly sure what she was doing.

What she was going to ask…no…
tell
him to do.

That’s what he needs most of all.

“Slowly…” She cleared her throat to loosen the tightness
that was trying to strangle her. Still clutching that pen like a talisman, she
sat in her wheeled office chair and faced him. Luckily, the shirt was long
enough to give her a moment to collect her thoughts, because she had the
feeling that once she saw him naked she was going to have a hard time
remembering her own name. “Unbutton the shirt, starting from the top.”

His chest rose and fell so rapidly she could see each fluttering
breath. He lifted shaking hands to the turquoise silk. Leaving the tight, high
collar bound at his throat, he worked the tiny buttons loose, each one making
her breath come faster, her pulse thundering in her head. He peeked at her from
the curtain of tumbled hair hanging in his face, and his eyes cut her to the
bone. So much hope. So much love. And terror, yes, because he was so afraid
that she’d come to her senses and run like hell.

She wanted to, oh, she did. She wanted to flee. She wanted
to throw him up against a wall. Or fist her hand in his hair and drag him down
to torment her with his tongue.

Clutching the arm of her chair with her left hand, she
forced herself to watch the show he was giving her. Inch by inch, he bared his
chest, the flat planes of his stomach, the line of slightly darker hair down
his belly drawing her gaze inevitably to his groin. Framed in the turquoise
silk tails of his shirt, his cock rose hard and painfully aroused.

He’d waited so damned long for this, and so had she. But
staring at his obvious need, she still wasn’t sure what to do. Her mind felt
frozen. Her eyes burned, not with sadness or regret, but such need, her heart
so heavy in her chest that it felt like boulders crushed her ribcage.

She jerked her gaze up to his face, seeking a clue, a hint
to what he expected her to do. If he wanted humiliation or pain, she’d probably
crack or burst into tears. Mal had said something about dogs, collars, leashes,
whips and flails.

Some Mistress I’m making. God, if that’s what he wants, I
don’t think I can go through with this.

Seeing the panic in her eyes, he dropped to his knees in
front of her and pressed his forehead against her thighs. “Let me touch you,
just a little.” His whispered voice shook as badly as her hands. “Please,
Vicki, please. You don’t have to do anything. Just seeing the way you look at
me is enough.”

“No,” she forced out. The roughness of her voice shocked her
and made him cringe harder against her legs. Desperate, he clutched her,
wrapping his arms around her thighs like she was his last hope. “No, it’s not
enough. You need more than me looking at you.”

She released her death grip on the pen, letting it fall to
the floor so she could fist her hand in his hair. None too gently, she jerked
his head up. “And so do I.”

Jesse closed his eyes a moment, trying to hold back the
flood of emotion and need. He didn’t want to terrify her with demands and hopes
and fears, not so soon. She’d taken that first step, and he knew what it’d cost
her. He knew she was scared. Odd, but he’d never expected he’d be the calm,
confident one when it came down to their relationship. Not as the bottom.

It was liberating, though. He’d always been forced, the
victim whether unwilling or not. He’d never had the opportunity to think about
what he’d ask for, how he’d guide someone into getting what he needed while
still taking the bottom, but that’s exactly what Vicki gave him. It was like
finding the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, only to discover it also
held every single hope and dream he’d ever had in his entire life.

“Can I ask for things, m—” He caught himself saying
ma’am
and changed it to, “Madame?”

Some of the rigid tension tightening her body against his
eased. “Yes, please, absolutely. What do you need, Jesse?”

Fuck me, hard, right here, now, push me down on the floor
and take me as many times as you want.

Shuddering, Jesse pushed those thoughts away. Soon, dear
God, soon, but for now, he simply said, “Can I touch your breasts?”

She let out a low, choking laugh that nearly made him
release right then and there. “That’s all you want?”

He smiled, deliberately quirking his mouth to give her the
dimples she found so tempting. “With my mouth? Madame?”

“Just Vicki.” She gently ran her fingers through his hair.
“Unless you like calling me that.”

“Vicki.” He leaned up closer, hovering over her breasts
while his gaze flickered up to gauge her reaction. “Can I lick and kiss your
breasts until I come?”

“Make sure the door’s locked and the blinds are down. I
should have checked before getting started.”

Since it was almost ten o’clock at night, he was pretty sure
no one would be stopping by other than her cop, but he jumped up and checked
the door and windows anyway. He made sure to do it quickly, with enough energy
and enthusiasm to cause the shirt to flip up and expose as much of his ass and
groin as possible. He headed back to her but jerked to a halt, spellbound.

Vicki pulled her sweater over her head, tossed it on the
floor, and then reached behind her to undo her bra. It wasn’t anything fancy—black,
a little lace, but not racy—but he’d never seen anything sexier in his life. He
dropped back to his knees before her and closed his hands over hers. “Let me,
please?”

Giving him a nod, she opened her jean-clad thighs to him,
letting him slide into her embrace. He pressed his face against her chest,
listening to the pounding of her heart. Breathing her scent. She held him, too,
her hands gliding over his chest, sliding beneath the silk to rub his back and
shoulders, but she stayed away from temptation.

Let me see how long it takes for her to grab my cock.

He knew as soon as she did, he’d be done. Just thinking
about her hand on him was enough to make him jerk and throb, so close to
release. Instead, he concentrated on her. The silken skin inviting his mouth,
the sweet, sexy curve of her breasts beneath the scrap of bra, her lush, hot
scent. It wasn’t perfume, just her—warm, clean, slightly spicy, better than
homemade apple pie. Home.

Burying her hands in his hair, she held him close and let
her head fall back. A low hum of pleasure vibrated her chest beneath his mouth.
He unhooked the bra but didn’t remove it with his hands. He used his mouth,
nibbling and gumming the lace over her nipple, dampening the material before
letting it slip away to reveal her flesh. The feel of her hard nipple in his
mouth made him groan.

Arching against him, she tightened her grip in his hair,
driving him to take more of her into his mouth. He closed his teeth carefully,
listening for the slightest sound of pain or hesitation from her. He liked his
sex rough and dirty and tip-toeing down the line of pain and pleasure, but she
might not.

He had his answer when she yanked him away by his hair…and
dragged his mouth to the other side. He rubbed his stubbled jaw against her, then
his lips, soft, his teeth, hard, his tongue wet, winding about her. He sucked
her breast into his mouth, straining to take as much of her as possible.

Pushing against him, she forced more of her flesh into his
mouth, thrusting like a man, and it felt like his bones were melting. Like she
was inhaling him instead of the other way around, and he’d just puddle on the
floor while she drained him dry.

She pulled his head back to let him breathe. Eyes wide and
dark, she stared down into his eyes, shaken, aroused, he hoped. She wrapped her
thighs around him, dragging him so close her jeans rubbed against him—rough,
raw, heaven. If she’d taken him into her body, he would have died for sure.

“How close are you?”

A tremor rocked his body but he held his breath a count of
five, ten, waiting for the surge to ebb enough for him to talk. “Very.”

She flashed a wide smile, dragged his mouth up to hers, and
wrapped her hand around his cock. Her tongue thrust into his mouth, claiming
him. He shuddered, groaning on a climax that scoured his brain with sand. He
couldn’t stop. Another spasm rocked his body, another, until he was shaking,
his face wet, and she held him in the shelter of her body, rocking him like a
baby.

He thought he’d shamed himself by crying like a virgin, but
then he realized she was crying too. The pit of his stomach sank to the floor.

He’d never ever forget that day in the park when she’d come
to him, pale as a ghost, shaking and sick. He might not have known her full
name or where she lived then, but he’d known that she was a formidable woman
with a steel core and a heart as big as Texas. She didn’t break down. She
didn’t cry and cling. She took names and whipped anybody’s ass who was too
stupid to get out of her way.

But for that one sweet afternoon, she’d let him hold her.
She’d sobbed on his shoulder and told him about her cop’s partner. Her terrible
guilt, her fear that it could have been the man she cared about. Even though
she loved someone else, Jesse couldn’t forget that he’d been the one to hold her
that day. He’d allowed himself to hope. Not that she’d take him in, nothing
that grand. Just that she’d care for him too. He wouldn’t have minded the
streets for the rest of his life if she came to him every day.