She wanted to comfort him--soothe him, hold him in her arms--but there was no way to give a child comfort when he found his beloved mother murdered, and right at them moment, Jack was a young boy reliving his mother's murder.
"I swear, I felt something in me snap, Briony. I told Ken to run, but he didn't--he didn't--he wouldn't leave me." He pressed his fingertips to his temples. "You can never wipe the memory away, no matter what you do. You can never forget the smell of blood, or the hatred in someone's eyes. He wanted to kill us, and if he hadn't been so greedy to make us pay--because of course it was our fault he'd had to kill her--he would have succeeded."
Briony bit down hard on her lip to keep from allowing the small sound of horror to escape her throat. Jack was seeing every vivid detail, so much so that it was spilling over into her mind as well.
"He came at me so fast--he was always so fast--and big." Jack looked at her. "Like me. Damn him to hell, just like me. Big beefy shoulders and arms--natural muscle, not from working out in a gym. He was strong. When he hit me, I knew he meant to kill me. She wasn't there to stop him, and he was going to beat me to death with his bare hands. I tried to fight back, and instead of running, Ken jumped on his back to keep him off of me. Even with two broken arms, Ken tried to defend me. When I went down, my father kept hitting and kicking me, until I couldn't breathe. I think he thought, with so much blood, and the sound of the breath rattling in my lungs and throat, that I was dying. He left me there, lying in my mother's blood, and he turned on Ken. Ken could have gotten away, but he wouldn't leave me."
"Any more than you would have left him," Briony reminded him.
"I don't know how I got up, or where I found the strength to move, but my body had somehow separated from my mind. I didn't feel pain. I don't know if I was really breathing. Later, they said my ribs were caved in and it was impossible for me to stand, but I did. I could see Ken's face, the tears running down through all the blood. And I saw him--the monster who ruled our lives. My world narrowed to him. I picked up the baseball bat and I took him out just the way I take out every other target--coldly, precisely, and quite thoroughly."
"God, Jack."
"I didn't feel anything at all. I should have, he was my father, but I didn't, Briony. I didn't--and don't--feel remorse or horror or even joy or satisfaction that he's dead. I felt nothing then and I don't feel anything now. When I line up a target, it's always that same way. My mind separates and it's nothing more than a job."
She turned on her side, easing her body against his, sliding her arm around him. "You feel remorse when you've done something that hurts Ken--or me. I've seen it in you. You're careful with both of us. Is that what you're afraid of, Jack? That you won't love the baby and that if I walked out you'd follow us and murder us? Is that really what you think you'd do? You'd try to stop us?"
"Babies," he corrected automatically. "And I wouldn't try, Briony, I would stop you." He sighed, the sound more sorrowful than hopeful. "I wanted you to have a decent man."
"You wouldn't murder us, Jack. It's unbelievable that you could conceive of such a thing. You wouldn't. It isn't in you. Of course you'd try to stop us if you loved us. Any man would. You are a decent man, you dope. You're just a difficult man. There's a difference. And has it ever occurred to you that you're so afraid you're like your father that you examine your motives way too much? People get jealous and possessive and some try to hold on too hard. You know your weaknesses and strengths. Maybe you'd go a little overboard to keep a woman you love with you, but you'd never harm her. Never, Jack. I don't think it--I know it with absolute certainty."
"I frighten you sometimes."
"Everything frightens me sometimes. I'm ashamed to admit to you that I'm pretty much the biggest chicken on the face of the earth. You're an intimidating man--a little on the ruthless side--and I never know what you're going to do."
"Or what I'm capable of."
"I may not know what you're capable of, Jack, but I do know what you're not capable of. I'm a good judge of character and I've been in your head. You're not capable of murdering a woman--especially one you love. As for the babies, Jack, you would never harm your own children. You'd die to protect them. You're so far from being your father you don't even know it."
"I love you just the way you are, but I'd want to dominate you, insist on you doing everything my way."
"Like I'm not aware of that? I was raised with four brothers, Jack. While I don't consider myself submissive, I also don't argue for the sake of it. If it's really important to me, I'll let you know, and if you don't back off, I'll probably do it anyway and you can yell all you want."
His eyes met hers, and there was something dark and dangerous flickering there, but looking beyond that, there was something else. Something deep and enduring, an emotion she wanted to wrap herself in.
"I'm giving you a last out, Briony. I'll get the other team to take care of you. You can stay with Lily. It's a fortress there. She's an anchor. You won't feel any pain around the others."
"I'm not with you because you're an anchor."
"Damn it, Briony, are you listening to anything I've said? If you stay with me, I'll never let you go. I'll make you crazy..."
"It's a nice kind of crazy, but if you don't want me here..."
He actually snarled, like a wolf. She heard the growl of anger and his hand caught hers and forced it between his legs to rub over his aching, full erection. "Does it feel like I don't want you? I can't think straight with wanting you, and damn it, it isn't all about sex either. Whitney may think he overdosed us with the right pheromones, but it's a hell of a lot more complicated than that. My need of you, this monster of a hard-on, comes from my heart, not just from lust."
There was a moment, a heartbeat, when she didn't think she'd have the courage to seduce him, to take what she wanted, but then her will took over, conquering fear as it always did. She wouldn't let Jack Norton slip away from her because she was afraid of the unknown. She wanted him with every breath she took, not because of the craving clawing through her body and making her breasts feel swollen and achy, but because she saw inside him and loved and needed what and who he was.
"Jack," she said softly. "You always come to bed with too many clothes on. Do you think you could do something about that for me?"
He wasn't wearing a shirt, but he had put on the soft flannel drawstring pants in concession to her modesty. His breath hitched and his body stilled, gray eyes moving over her face with something close to hope, something close to despair, and such a dark intensity of raw desire it robbed her of breath.
"You have to be sure this is what you want, baby," he said, even as he pushed the offending material from his body. He wasn't strong enough to keep her safe. He wanted her so bad he could feel her in his bones, right through his skin. He'd wanted her since the moment he'd seen her again, and the longer they were together, the more he knew she was right for him.
Part of him, the sane part, nearly pushed her away, knowing the outcome, but self-preservation kicked in, and he lay back, letting her hands caress his body, with soft, sweeping strokes that sent shudders of pleasure down his spine. Save me, then, Briony, but God help you, I hope you know what you're doing.
Her breath slid over him, teased his senses, heightened his sexual needs. She kissed his chin, nibbled for a moment, and then trailed kisses down his chest, over his scars, down his belly, until he couldn't find a way to breathe adequately. Her tongue darted out, moistening her lips to a silken slide. He couldn't think clearly anymore, could only gasp when her tongue curled around the thick length of his erection and began long, slow licks, as if she were savoring an ice cream. I've never really done this, so if I do it wrong, tell me.
There is no doing it wrong. If you don't enjoy it... She was killing him with that hot, wet mouth now, so tight, tongue moving and flicking with tiny teasing strokes that nearly took the top of his head off. She kissed her way down his shaft and across his tight balls, tongue going on a little foray th
at had his teeth coming together and a moan escaping. For someone who doesn't know what she's doing, you're doing a damn good job of it.
I'm just following the little fantasy in your head.
Hell. He didn't know he could fantasize that well. His imagination could never have taken him over the way her mouth was doing. She did little figure eights back up his rigid shaft and suddenly engulfed him, suckling, drawing the ragged breath from his body. Her mouth tightened again, sucked and tormented, this time sliding slowly down him almost to her throat. Electricity sizzled along his thickening cock. He was so hard he thought he might explode, but he didn't--couldn't--stop her.
It was more than the sensations her mouth created, it was her enjoyment, the obvious pleasure she took in loving him. He felt it in her--there was no faking it, and Briony was definitely enjoying herself. More than enjoying herself, she was getting hot and wet, her hips moving in an automatic rhythm to the glide of her mouth.
Her tongue lashed him with heat, circled, and probed, and then she was suckling again, and he couldn't stop the streaks of lightning racing through his body, or the need to take control. His hands fisted in her hair, pulling her head back to just the perfect angle so he could watch as he thrust deeper into her mouth, so he could take over the direction and pace.
She hesitated, and he tasted the fear in her mind at the loss of control over the situation. That's so good, baby, so good. Relax for me, you can do this. He pulled back, groaning as the erotic sensations rocketed through his body. He thrust deeper, holding her in place, the sight of his cock disappearing into the velvet heat of her mouth nearly driving him over the edge. Harder. That's it, baby. Harder. She was killing him and he couldn't stop, couldn't be gentle with her with his balls tightening and thunder roaring in his ears. He was going to explode down her throat.
He wanted to savor this moment, keep it in his memory for all time, but it was far too late, she was stroking his sac, gripping the base of his shaft as he thrust deep, and he felt the fire race up his spine and spread, spread hot and searing through him, until he was exploding, yelling hoarsely, as his shaft erupted in hot, spurting jets. Even then he couldn't let her go, holding her to him, so that he honestly didn't know if she was suckling him dry or he was forcing her to accept him.
Briony choked and then swallowed, her gaze holding nothing but longing, shy sensuality, a lingering doubt that she hadn't pleased him. Acceptance of who he was. His peculiar need to dominate and control every situation. There was no distaste, or repugnance, not even a shadow lurking in her mind--only her wanting to give him pleasure.
Anger at himself, despair, shot through him. I'm such a fucking bastard. You're an innocent, and you hand me something incredible and special, and I take it instead of allowing you to give it. Even now, he was holding fistfuls of hair in his hands as the streaks of lightning raced through his body with her hot moist mouth surrounding him. He let go of her, fingers sliding with reluctance from her hair. Jack threw one arm over his eyes, ashamed of his nature and his own lack of the ability to control it. He had too many demons forever haunting him, and he couldn't let go like that, couldn't give in to his baser nature. She didn't deserve that.
Briony moved, sliding out of the bed, away from him. He heard her in the bathroom, the running water, the pad of her bare feet as she returned and stood by the window, drinking slowly. "You're so silly, Jack. You're not supposed to have control when you have sex; isn't that the point? I wanted to drive you wild, feel you crazy for me, for the sensations I can bring you. That was the idea. I'm not fragile. I have the same tremendous drive that you do, the same pheromones, the same terrible hunger for you. For me, it was wonderful and exciting and very, very sexy. The feel of your hands on me, holding me to you, knowing I'd taken you over the edge, it was perfect."
His arm dropped down and he looked at her, eyes glittering silver in the moonlight. "Do you have any idea the things I want to do to you?" His voice was rough, already thickening with lust. "Whitney's potent brew, my feelings for you, and my need for constant control are a bad combination."
"Maybe they're a great combination--did you ever think of that?" She sat on the window ledge and sipped at the glass of water. "Maybe you're just afraid because the pull is so powerful. Maybe you need to control everyone and everything in your environment because you're afraid to lose them, afraid of being hurt. Guess what, tough guy, everyone loses people, everyone gets hurt--its part of life."
"Afraid?" He sat up, eyes narrowed and dangerous. His erection was back, and it was as heavy and as painful as before--as if the combined scent of them was a drug that filled him with a raw, aching hunger that couldn't be assuaged. "Look at me. Do you think this is normal for me? I'm shaking I want you so damned much."
"And that's a bad thing? Jack." Her voice caressed him, whispered over his skin until he swore he felt her mouth on him again, her breath. "You think I'm not feeling the same way? Empty and unfulfilled? So wet I can feel cream dripping along my thigh."
Jack raked both hands through his hair, a groan escaping at her words. "Damn it, don't say things like that. I want to be buried balls deep in you, and if you tempt me..."
"Am I supposed to never have anything or anyone for myself because of a little fear? I've lived with fear my entire life. You just deal with it, Jack, you don't let it conquer you."
"I'm protecting you."
"The way you do Ken? Has it ever occurred to you that you don't want someone to love you because then you'd have to accept a little protection back? Ken would die for you--nearly did die for you--and that's not acceptable, is it? Only you want that choice, but life--and relationships--don't work that way. Ken is part of who you are, but even then, you don't like to relinquish control to him, do you?"
"You're going to get yourself in trouble, Briony."
"Why? Because you can't take the truth? You want me on your terms. You want me to stay and accept you as you are, but you'll be damned if you'll accept me for who I am. I'm a woman with my own needs. I'm not going to let a little fear stand in my way--especially if the experience is pleasurable."
"You have no idea what my needs are, Briony, what you're asking for."
"I'm asking you to love me, Jack. If you can love me and accept me for myself, I can do the same for you. I can give you anything you need. I don't want to be here, forcing you to give up your life for me because we happen to have made a baby together. And I'm no martyr to give up my life for you with nothing in return but protection."
Jack spread out his hands, palms up. "This is it, Briony. This is me loving you. I've never felt for anyone else--or wanted anyone else--in my life the way I do you. I don't know how to romance a woman, or how to be gentle or tender..."
She shook her head. "You're so sad, Jack. You're very romantic and gentle and tender. You don't see yourself at all."
"You don't see me. You've built me up in your mind because I shield you from pain." He couldn't pull his gaze from hers, no matter how much he told himself to walk away, walk into the night. The demons raged tonight, demanding things better left alone, yet she stood there, with her soft skin and beautiful face and her too innocent eyes asking him to love her.
How the hell did he know what love was? Obsession--yes. Domination--yes. But love? Looking at her hurt. Did that count? Wanting to keep her safe--watch her smile, watch her eyes light up when she saw him. What the hell was love?
"I scared you when I took control. You couldn't stop me and you knew it. I saw the fear in your eyes, felt it move in my mind and I couldn't stop, couldn't let go and give you control back."
"Of course there was fear. I was doing something I'd never done before, but it was part of the excitement. I trust you, Jack, more than you trust yourself. You were in my mind, I felt you there, guiding my actions, and you knew I was loving every single minute of what I was doing. The fear doesn't matter--it never has. When you took control, I felt more powerful than I've ever felt in my life. More beautiful and sexy and hot. I wanted you so
much and I wanted to make you feel exactly the way you were feeling."
He watched her throat work, watched her swallow. Even that small ordinary action was sexy to him. His skin was too tight for his body and his blood pounded in his groin. Hell yes, he was afraid. If he let her all the way in, and somehow, someway, the ugly shadow of the man who sired him--who hid deep inside where he never wanted to look--was let out, he would destroy the one woman who mattered to him. He was too weak to drive her away. He'd had her now, and the thought of endless days and nights without her was too much to bear.
"Take off your top, Briony." His voice had gone husky, but carried the ever-present command in it. He couldn't change that even if he wanted to.
"My top?" She set the glass on the window ledge and grasped the hem of her shirt, arms crossed, pulling up in nearly slow motion so that inch by inch the smooth expanse of her peaches-and-cream skin was revealed. Her ribs, the underside of her breasts, the firm, rounded globes and darker pink nipples. Briony drew the shirt over her head, trying not to moan as the material brushed over her sensitive nipples. She tossed the shirt aside to stand facing him, moonlight spilling over her, casting a silver aura around her.
The shadows caressed her body lovingly. Each breath she drew in lifted her breasts, so that her nipples moved from dark shadow to silver light. If it were possible, his body hardened and thickened more. He didn't deserve her, but he was going to take her--and keep her. Maybe it wasn't everyone's brand of loving, but he'd give her everything he had--everything he was.
Jack moistened his lips and waited until he could breathe. His cock was as hard as a rock, springing out from his body greedily, and his hand circled it, stroked, with the same casual way he wore his nakedness. "Get rid of the pants, baby, we don't need them tonight--or any other night."
For one moment, Briony hesitated, reluctance crossing her face. "I haven't gained a lot of weight, but my stomach is quite a bit bigger."
Impatience hardened his features. "I know exactly what you look like, Briony, and you're so damn beautiful to me and so is your belly. Just get rid of them."
Conspiracy Game Page 28