by Jordan, Skye
He lowered his hand to the waistband of her pants, and his fingers hit the cool metal of her belt buckle. “Jesus. Next time, don’t wear a fucking belt.”
“Next time, huh? Let go of my hands, and I’ll take care of it.”
“I’ve got it. I like your hands right where they are.”
“I want to touch you.” She tilted her head and bit his earlobe. “Let me touch you.”
God, that voice. The raw need there echoed his own. His head was spinning. Probably because he wasn’t getting enough air to his lungs. All the oxygen was concentrated in his bloodstream. And all that blood settled in his southern region.
The belt dropped open. Jack yanked at the button of her jeans, pushed at the zipper.
Finally.
He flattened his palm against her warm belly and drew back to watch her face as he slid his hand over her smooth mound, then deep between her legs.
Her head dropped back with a moan. Her fingers curled around his, and her hips rocked against his hand.
“Mmm, you’re wet for me.” He slid his fingers across her opening, wetting the tips, then pushing two fingertips into her heat.
A sound of pleasure hummed in her throat. She pried one of her hands free and slid it around the back of his neck. Her fingernails bit into the skin there, dragging his head to hers. “I love the way you touch me.”
This was all for him. All this desire, all this heat. All just for Jack. He felt like the luckiest bastard on the planet. But he felt something else too. Some kind of indefinable pull. He needed more. Needed connection. He tilted his head and kissed her. She moaned into his mouth, and he echoed her, then broke the kiss so he could watch her as he fingered her to climax.
“You’re so beautiful when you come.”
Her hips rocked to the rhythm of his hand, and Jack used everything he already knew about her body to lift her toward orgasm quickly.
“Oh my God.” Her words were filled with awe, as if she couldn’t understand how she was on the edge of climax in mere minutes. Her free hand fisted his shirt. Her mouth dropped open. “God.”
The orgasm peaked with a sudden and fierce jolt, making her body buck. Jack kept even pressure between her legs, let the first climax ebb before he lightened his touch and stroked her clit with his thumb.
“Fuck.” She came again, her muscles straining, her nails digging into his shoulder.
When the pleasure eased, Miranda opened her eyes. They were liquid chocolate.
Jack shook his head. “Not yet. You’ve got one more in you. Give it a second.”
A dazed kind of realization slid through her eyes, and when her muscles released their grip on his fingers, he started moving again.
“Jesus, Jack.”
Slow and gentle, he pushed her back to the peak and let her linger there until she whimpered. Jack wanted her barriers gone while they were together tonight. Wanted the chance to touch her a little deeper in the hopes of creating a more permanent place for himself inside her memory and, eventually, her heart. He wanted her so addicted, she couldn’t say no when he called. Couldn’t push him away when he got close. Wouldn’t have a reason to resist the trust building between them.
She lifted her hips, searching for release. “Jack.”
“You want to come?”
“Yes.”
“It’s right here.” Jack pushed deeper, hooked his fingers and flicked her G-spot. “Work it, baby.”
She pulled against his shoulder, gaining leverage to rock her hips against the pressure, driving his fingers deeper, rubbing against his palm.
“That’s it. Come and get it.” He watched pleasure and tension flash across her face. Watch the orgasm peak like an incoming wave. Her brow tightened, mouth dropped open, eyes slid closed.
“Yes, fuck…” Her body shuddered, writhed, bucked. She dropped her forehead against his shoulder, her sounds of pleasure muffled by his shirt. Jack let her drift back to earth while he floated on the high of her complete surrender.
He eased his hand from between her legs. Her breathing was ragged, her body limp. He closed his arms around her waist, lifted her off her feet, and carried her to the bed.
She fell back, boneless, and Jack explored her body with his mouth as he slowly stripped her. By the time she was naked, Jack’s need was white-hot. He pushed aside just enough of his own clothing to roll on a condom, then knelt on the bed and pulled Miranda onto his lap.
She straddled him easily, her body loose and pliable. She fumbled at the buttons on his shirt, complaining. “Too many clothes.”
Right now, that was a secondary issue for Jack. His most urgent need was to get inside her. The anticipation of feeling all that tight, wet heat made him ravenous. “First things first.”
He reached between them and rubbed the tip of his cock across her opening, wetting himself. Then he gripped her thighs and pulled them wider across his lap while pushing up on his knees. He sank deep in one thrust. Miranda sucked a sharp breath, but her body opened, welcoming him.
The thrill cut through him. Heat speared his cock, pooled in his balls, coiled at the base of his spine, hazed his vision. Miranda moaned. Her fingers worked harder on the buttons of his shirt and pushed it open. Her warm hands stroked his skin. Then she spread her thighs wider and took him even deeper.
Jack forced himself to sit back on his heels when his body told him to drive into her using all his strength. There was plenty of time for hardcore fucking later. Right now, he needed to connect with her. Burrow beneath those walls while she was too high to notice.
“You feel so…damn…good.” Her voice dripped with pleasure.
Jack cupped her face and kissed her, sipping at her lips. Her lids were heavy, her lashes covering her dark eyes. “Ride me, baby.”
A sultry smile tipped her mouth. “My pleasure.”
She rose up on her knees, wrapped her arms at his neck, and started to move. She took him in full, slow strokes. She was slick and hot and soft, and Jack lost himself in the feel of her. He braced her back with both hands and covered one breast with his mouth. He sucked at her nipple and felt the corresponding squeeze of her pussy. He bit down, and a moan rolled in her throat. Her rhythm picked up pace. He slid his hands lower, gripping her ass and pulling her hips deeper into the thrust.
“Fuck, yes.”
She was quickening around him like she was going to climax again. He’d never had a woman respond this quickly, this easily, this explosively. During their first night, she’d rocked him into a double orgasm. His first. And if this was any indication of how their night was going to go, it wouldn’t be his last. She tested his restraint, challenged his endurance. Wrapped around his heart and squeezed.
She clasped the back of his neck with one hand, dropped the other arm to his thigh behind her, and climaxed again, her body undulating with the coil and release of muscle. She drenched his cock.
“Jesus Christ.” Her chest heaved, her face tilted toward the ceiling, her eyes closed. “This is insane.” Her head lolled sideways. She opened her eyes and met his gaze. “You’re wicked good in bed, Mr. Taylor.”
“We’re wicked good in bed, together.” They were both sweaty now, and he repositioned his hold on her hips. He held her steady as he lifted to his knees, squeezed his glutes, and drove himself deep into her heat, all while he purposely held her gaze. He moved easily inside her, a slick, hot friction that blinded him with stars and made Miranda moan. “Wicked fucking good.”
Need coiled into a knot at the base of his spine and tightened across his hips. Jack put his quads and hamstrings to work, lifting into Miranda. He burned out his glutes thrusting deep. The back wall of her pussy slammed against the head of his cock, and her body squeezed in response. He made that his target and strived for a bull’s-eye on every thrust.
Four strokes in, Miranda climaxed with a curse. Ten strokes in, she came again. Twelve, she begged him not to stop. Fifteen, she was limp, leaning on him to keep herself upright. He found himself striving to break so
me undefined goal. They’d already surpassed every sexual fantasy he’d ever dreamt up, but he couldn’t keep himself from trying to make her climax just one more time.
“Jack.” She said his name like she was waving a white flag.
It broke his trance and dragged his thoughts back into his own body, where need raged. With a growl, he held her tight and quickened his pace, adding the slap of wet flesh to the party. His release came in a series of shudders, racking every muscle in his body.
When the quakes subsided, Jack dropped his head to her shoulder. His vision remained a cluster of flashing stars.
“Oh my God,” he breathed. “I think I fucked myself blind.”
Miranda started laughing, causing them to collapse together on the bed in a tangle. Then he was laughing too.
When they were both out of breath, they drifted into silence. That full, rich, comfortable silence that buoyed the spirit.
Oh yeah. No doubt. He might not confess this to anyone until they’d been married ten years, but he knew she was most definitely The One.
11
Miranda floated to consciousness confused. She didn’t know when she’d fallen asleep. Or where she was. Or, shit, whose warm body she was draped over.
No, no, no.
She didn’t do this. She didn’t sleep with men. She had sex with them, then left. Sleeping hadn’t been part of the equation since… She didn’t even know. A decade ago?
Panic streaked through her stomach. Her mind started a gymnastics routine to figure out how to leave without this guy waking up. And, fuck, she didn’t even know who this guy—
A hand slid over her hair. Miranda’s brain fog evaporated, and her eyes focused.
Jack. She was in Jack’s hotel room. And she’d been wrong. It hadn’t been a decade ago since she’d actually slept with a man. It had been only three days.
Her stomach unlocked, her chest relaxed, the air pent up in her lungs released. She used the bed to push herself up. She felt dazed and exhausted, but in a good way. A really good way.
Jack’s lids were heavy, his expression relaxed and happy. “Hey, beautiful.”
Miranda’s heart squeezed. Butterflies invaded her stomach. “How long have I been asleep?”
“Maybe twenty minutes.”
She took in their situation. “Why are you still dressed?”
He grinned. “We got busy with more important things.”
Miranda groaned and eased back into position against his chest, head on his shoulder. “Well, stay dressed.” She snuggled her face against his neck and kissed him there. “You’ll have to get the door for room service.”
“Great minds. I’m starving.”
Miranda reached for a menu on the bedside table, then slid off Jack to lie half-on, half-off him, opened the menu, and held it so they could both read. “What’s good?”
“It’s all hotel food, but the burgers aren’t bad.”
“That would take too much effort. Like, I’d have to sit up.”
Jack laughed and picked up a strand of her hair, twirling it around his finger.
“The cheese-and-fruit plate could work,” she said. “I could eat both of those without moving.”
He turned the page to a wine list. “Do you want wine with your cheese?”
Laughter bubbled up from nowhere. He looked at her, his expression curious.
“You’re really clueless about how mismatched we are, aren’t you?”
“I’m sorry.” His brow dropped with a mock frown. “Aren’t you the same woman who was right here, in my bed, an hour ago? ’Cause you look a lot like her, and damn, we synced right up.”
“Even if I knew anything about pairing wine with food, which I don’t, I don’t drink. So, water is fine. Sparkling if they have it.”
One golden brow shot up. “You work at a bar, but you don’t drink?”
“Club soda and lime is my drink of choice.”
Jack reached over, picked up the phone, hit a button, and placed the order. After he hung up, they continued to lie together, quiet. She loved the way he touched her. Fingers in her hair, hand sliding up and down her spine.
“Tell me about you.” His voice was soft and easy, but the topic created tension in Miranda’s gut.
She hummed and slid a finger along his jaw. “But then you’d lose all those sparkles in your eyes when you look at me. That would be such a shame.”
He rolled to his side and propped one hand under his head, facing her. “Try me.”
This was the beginning of the end. She could feel it. “I’m the opposite of you in every way.”
“How?”
“I’m not close with my family. I’ve never traveled outside Tennessee. I live paycheck to paycheck.”
He threaded his fingers with hers. “Did you grow up here?”
“Born and raised in the worst parts of Memphis. Moved here when I was a teenager.”
“What brought you here?”
Well, if this didn’t kill the spark between them, Miranda didn’t know what would. “My mother met a professional bull rider and followed him here on a leg of his circuit. A few months later, she followed him to Austin, this time without me.”
A beat passed before he realized that was the end of her story. “Wait, she just left you?”
“Without looking back.”
“How old were you?”
“Fifteen.”
“Wow.” He went quiet, clearly processing that information. She forced herself to meet his gaze. She couldn’t quite read it now. There was no disapproval or pity there, but he’d definitely sobered. “Did you move in with your dad?”
“I don’t know my father. Eventually, I ended up with Marty. God, he was so pissed at my mother. He’d left her about a year before, but continued to write to me in Memphis. We didn’t have the money for things like internet or cell phones, so good old snail mail was the only way to communicate.”
“He’s the father you never had, then.”
She nodded. “Best thing that ever happened to me. Nowadays, whenever you hear about an older man taking a young girl under his wing, there are always nasty assumptions. This wasn’t like that. He is the most honorable, loyal, caring man I’ve ever known. Our relationship has always been brutally honest, unconditional, and completely platonic. Not even a hint of inappropriateness.”
“He sounds amazing.”
“He’s a dying breed, for sure. I don’t know where I’d be without him.”
“You said you had half siblings. Did you all stay with Marty?”
“No, Gypsy and Dylan had real fathers. Fathers who took them away as soon as my mother’s bad habits resurfaced.”
“What kind of bad habits?”
“Drug and alcohol abuse.”
“God. That’s…heavy.” He went silent a moment. “Is that why you don’t drink?”
She nodded. “My lousy genes don’t need any encouragement.”
“I assume Gypsy is your sister. Hard to tell with an unusual name like that. But Dylan sounds like your brother.”
“Your assumption is correct.”
“And how long is Gypsy staying?”
If Miranda was lucky, Gypsy would be gone when she got home from work tomorrow. “Not long. She was having some trouble where she was living. Guess she’s looking for a fresh start or something.”
“And you don’t want her to make that here?”
Miranda didn’t immediately answer. His question made her reconsider what she had against Gypsy. Resentment? Yes. Jealousy? Yes. But Miranda only had to remember the years before her mother’s death for the real reason to surface.
“I raised them both until their fathers took them away, but when our mother got sick and I needed her, she wasn’t there. Now she wants me to support her when her life goes off track. She’s selfish. And she’s a liar. She’s given me, Marty, and Elaina, Marty’s mother, three different reasons for coming into town. I don’t need any of that in my life.”
She decided to turn off t
his path before it reached a cliff edge. “Enough about my mess. How’s your dad?”
He didn’t immediately answer, then exhaled with “Actually, a little better.”
Miranda was grateful he shifted topics easily. He propped his free arm behind his head and explained dementia syndrome.
“Earlier tonight, I put headphones on him and set him up in front of Pandora and had him create a thumbprint radio station.”
“Why? Is music good for dementia?”
“I don’t know about that, but it seems to make him happy. You actually gave me the idea.”
“How’s that?”
“I was feeling shitty about news I got today, then Luke Bryan’s ‘Country Girl’ came on the radio. My mind shot back to you dancing at the bar with Violet, and that one memory turned my whole disposition around. I thought maybe I could make that happen for my dad with music that reminded him of my mom.” His gaze went distant and a little smile tilted his mouth. “I may have actually seen a flicker of the Dad I used to know, though it could also have been my imagination.”
His comment paralleling his parents’ relationship with theirs made Miranda’s shoulders tighten. She decided to avoid the topic altogether. “What bad news? Not about your dad, I hope.”
“No. I mean, not really. It’s complicated. Sounds a lot like your family situation, but in a business setting.” He heaved a sigh that carried the weight of the world. “The trouble in my father’s business was caused by his business partner. A man we considered family for thirty years. He took advantage of my dad’s weakened mental state after my mom died to embezzle every penny of the company’s liquid assets.”
Shock hit her, a fist to the gut. “Holy shit. What kind of company?”
“I can’t say right now. This town is smaller than it seems, and the industry is even smaller. Everyone knows everyone, and employees surf between companies for upward mobility. I don’t doubt employees and customers of the firm frequent your bar. I don’t want you to have to worry about slipping. We can’t risk employees jumping ship before we get this situation under control.”