by Tess Oliver
I covered my mouth to stifle a laugh. Jackson held back a grin too.
“That was sort of rude,” I said as he took hold of my hand.
“Nah, it was just Bodhi and Noah. Rude is what you would’ve seen if they hadn’t left the house.” He pulled me down a short hallway with dusty pictures hanging on the walls. He stopped in front of a halfway open door and looked at me. Some of the determination and confidence was gone. “Are you sure about this, Charli? I don’t want you to do this if—”
I pressed my fingers against his mouth to stop him. “I was the one who brought it up, remember? Uh, you do have a shield, right? I suppose I should have asked earlier but something told me—”
“I’m set.” He kicked his foot back and the door swung open. “Come, before the mood is ruined by brothers with sandwiches and talk of my tin of rubber Romeos.”
His room was much as I’d expected. Several dirty shirts draped over a chair, a mirror and shaving kit on a dresser that was painted pink, assuring me that it had at one time belonged to his mother. His bed was a tangle of sheets, and a pair of pants hung over the crude pine headboard.
“Sorry about the mess,” he said. “Wasn’t expecting— well, you know— Fuck it.” He spun around and pulled me into his arms. His kiss was deep and thorough, and my body flushed with warmth. I didn’t know what it was about the way Jackson touched me, but one caress, one brush of his mouth against mine and I all but trembled like a weak kitten in his embrace.
He released his hold on me to push the suspenders off his shoulders. Then he reached for the short row of pearl buttons on my dress. His fingers were big compared to the buttons, but he opened them deftly.
I peered down at his fingers as they worked the buttons. “My, you are nimble at that. Lots of practice, I guess. Have I mentioned how fond I am of that crooked smile of yours, the one you’re wearing right now? Oops, am I talking too much?” I twisted an imaginary lock shut on my lips. “I’ll hush up and let you continue.” I reached up to the buttons on his shirt. “In fact, I’ll busy myself with opening your shirt.” My fingers trembled slightly and I giggled. “I guess I’m not as practiced at unbuttoning a man’s shirt. It’s as if I’m wearing big, wooly mittens. It’s funny that now I’m unbuttoning your shirt when it was wide open the first two times I met you. I’m talking too much again. I’ll shut up so you don’t get tired of me before we even get started.”
The crooked smile widened. “No chance of that happening, Charli.”
I held up my arms as he lifted my dress up and off. He gazed down at my step-in chemise. It was pale blue nainsook, and it had been worn soft by many washes. Suddenly, I wished I’d had one of the silk crepe de Chine chemises like Rose and Emma owned. I didn’t even own a decent pair of hose. “I don’t usually wear stockings only because it’s hard to keep them washed when we’re on the road. Otherwise, I would be wearing them. Just in case you were wondering—”
He pushed his mouth against mine. His kiss was so deep, it felt as if he’d stroked the tender swelling between my legs. “The only thing I like about stockings,” he breathed against my lips, “is taking them off.”
“I didn’t want you to think that I grew up not learning how to dress like a lady. I mean it’s not like a grew up in a— oh my gosh, never mind, I did grow up in a tent.”
“Are you nervous, Charli?” he asked, seemingly having no idea what affect his rich, whiskey tone had on me.
“What gave it away? The fact that I’m chattering on like a nervous mama bird? See, I can’t even stop chattering about chattering.”
His expression was torn between what I was certain was desire and caution. “I can stop, Charli. It’ll be hard as hell. But we don’t have to go any further. Or do you want this?” he asked with a certain degree of hope. His blue gaze dragged down over my body before settling on my face. “God, you’re so damn beautiful, Charli. I don’t think you even realize it.”
There was something about the way he said it in that deep voice of his and that way he had of looking at me as if I was something extraordinary that made my throat ache. “I do want this, Jackson.”
He brushed his fingers along my thigh. My breath shortened as he reached under the bottom of my chemise. His slightly callused fingertips brushed across my skin. I sucked in my bottom lip as he reached between my legs. It was only a temporary trace of a touch as his fingertip trailed through the moisture in my sex. The intimacy of it made my head feel heavy on my neck.
I clutched at the open sides of his shirt for support. “See? Do you need any more proof?” My voice came out in a whisper.
“Shit, Charli, I’m fucking shaking I want you so bad.” His fingers pushed the thin ribbon straps of my chemise off my shoulders, and the fragile material pooled on the floor. The cool, late afternoon air swirled around me. I was completely naked, save for the short black boots. I went to cover myself, but Jackson took hold of my wrists and held my arms out to my sides to get a full view. “Christ, every goddamned inch of you is perfection.” He lifted me up and carried me to the bed. I sat in the center of his clump of bed sheets as he took off my boots. Before I could reach for the fly on his pants, he knelt onto the creaky bed and pressed his hot mouth against my inner thigh.
He ran a long trail of kisses along my bare skin stopping just short of my pussy. It was a teasing move that left me breathless with desire.
“Open for me, Charli. I want to taste you.” It was that rich, whiskey tone that stirred me even more and now, he was giving erotic commands. I was dizzy from the sound of it. My legs fell open, almost without me consciously moving them.
“Copper everywhere I look.” His warm breath tickled the moist folds of my sex.
My eyes drifted shut, intoxicated and nearly senseless with the feel of his tongue, teasing me at first and then stroking the intimate, tight bud. As the pressure of his mouth intensified, I instinctively reached for his head, pushing him harder against me. My hips moved in rhythm with his probing tongue, and my entire body quivered with anticipation of the coming explosion.
“Jackson, please.” I couldn’t think straight. All I felt, the only thing in the world at that second was his mouth on my pussy. If he had pulled away right then, it would have been nothing short of torture. Practiced, it was a word that suited him perfectly. He knew exactly what he was doing, and as his tongue flicked wildly across my tight bud, his fingers found the pool of slick moisture. He slid a thick finger inside of me and stroked my deepest, most intimate parts, bringing not just my pussy but my entire body to overwhelming waves of pleasure. My cry was lost in the room as I arched against his mouth, wanting to absorb every stroke of his tongue.
As the shuddering pulses lessened, my body relaxed and I caught my breath. Jackson stood from the bed. His blue eyes were like the blue of the mountains we’d just come from, dark and brooding and breathtaking. The tattoo to honor his fallen comrades and the puckered scar on his side, both profound reminders of his bravery as a soldier, moved with the tight muscles of his abdomen as he finished opening his pants. He gazed down at me through dark lashes as he pulled a yellow tin from his pocket and then pushed the pants to the floor. His thick, long erection glistened with moisture. Watching him sheath himself with the thin rubber shield made heat stir between my legs again. I was sure that I’d been spent, but I was wrong. It seemed that with Jackson, the satisfaction would come more than once.
He knelt on the bed and lowered himself over me. The muscles in his strong arms strained. It seemed he was holding himself back, as if once released he would not be able to stop. It was that pent up energy, that restrained desire that made me shiver with expectation. His tongue drew tantalizing circles around my taut nipple as his mouth covered my breast. I briefly closed my eyes to take in the pure pleasure of it.
My hands reached up and I smoothed my palms over the rigid muscles of his arms and shoulders. They
were the kind of arms that a girl could feel eternally safe in. “Jackson,” I said softly, “come here to me.”
He lifted his face from my breast and peered up at me with dark blue eyes for a second. He moved forward on his arms and lowered his face over mine. His mouth hovered just over my lips.
I pressed my hand against his face. I knew then that I’d allowed myself to get lost in the thought of this man, and that I was going to be utterly devastated when I had to leave him. But I wanted this badly. “Please, Jackson.” I spread my thighs wider for him as he settled down between them.
His gaze never left my face as he reached under my naked bottom to push my hips higher and make my sex more open to him. With a slow precision that belied the hunger on his face, he pushed inside of me, filling me completely. “Damn, Charli, baby, my sweet baby, you are so tight, so small, like a perfect glove.”
His deep, cool tone sent a tremor of need through me. I didn’t want this to stop, this connection we’d formed. I’d never felt so right for someone or had someone feel so right for me. He continued to watch me as he began to slide in and out, each time managing to press against every sweet spot.
“God, Jackson,” I reached up and clung to his arms. His muscles tightened and strained with each movement as his hips rocked against me. Then, as if a cork had been popped releasing energy, he moved faster and harder against me. I wrapped my legs around him to take him in deeper with each thrust. My body responded again, climbing to that edge that was one push away from complete ecstasy.
His thrusts were longer, more exaggerated now. Jackson gazed down at me through long black lashes. “Do you feel me, Charli, baby? I want you to feel every inch of me.”
He lowered his mouth and kissed me hard before his head swung back, and the groan that rolled from his throat brought on my own climax. My legs tightened and my body shuddered beneath his as we got lost in the physical delirium that washed over us.
As our ragged breaths slowed and the air in the room cooled the glow left behind on our naked skin, Jackson lowered himself to the mattress and pulled me into his arms. Outside his window, the crickets started their evening song and a dog barked in the distance. We relaxed for several minutes in the luxury of each other’s arms.
“My life is completely void of silence like this.” I snuggled tightly against him and fingered the pale black tattoo on his chest. “Living in a tent, amongst many other tents and people, is like living in a perpetual party. And not necessarily a good party. Peace and quiet doesn’t exist in a traveling show.”
He kissed my forehead. I closed my eyes and pressed my face against him.
“You realize that you are now my prisoner, and I’m never going to let you go. You’ll have to hang up your motorcycle boots and traveling trunk because I’ve caught myself an Enchantress and I’m keeping her for myself. In fact, you can keep wearing the boots. I rather like them. But you have to stay.”
His words made me smile, and at the same time, they tugged at my heart. I squiggled even closer to him, and his arms tightened around me. It was bliss being in Jackson’s arms. Pure bliss. Soon, I’d have to work up the courage to say good-bye to him. But for now, I was just going to enjoy being near him.
Chapter 13
Jackson
Dealing with Griggs had, up to this point, been easy enough. He’d delivered on his half of our bargain by making sure that the Dentons left us alone. He’d also provided plenty of business. The people in the District definitely enjoyed their moonshine, and in the hush circles around Capitol Hill, Walter’s corn whiskey was becoming the most sought after liquor being run across the bridges.
Even though Gideon, Bodhi and I were filling our pockets with money, plenty of danger and apprehension came with the job. Most of that uneasiness came from having to deal with Griggs himself. His power had gone to his head, and his temper was explosive. Most days I only had to talk to one of his lackeys, which was always a relief. They would hand me an address, time and order and that would be as close as I got to the boss. But on unlucky days, I’d have to talk directly to Griggs. Those were the days when I regretted this business deal. Unfortunately, the lobbyist’s offer of leaving Griggs out as a middleman was as appealing as it was impossible. One whisper that I was skipping Griggs and delivering directly to his customers, and they’d be dragging the river for my body.
Swanson, the biggest and seemingly stupidest thug in Griggs’s army, took my gun and let me in the door. I stood in the front room of the speakeasy waiting for the asshole to hand me my instructions. Instead, he motioned with his bulbous head for me to follow.
“Where are we going?” The chairs were propped up on tables, and the floor had been swept and polished. It was dark and dingy but it was clean.
“Griggs wants to talk to you.”
“Shit.” I hadn’t been led to his office since the first day when I’d made him my offer.
Swanson turned his big face back to me as he led me past the two doors of the gambling rooms. “Did you say something?”
“Nope.” I knew there was no sense in asking the moose sized man what his pinch faced boss wanted. He wouldn’t have told me even if he did know. I wondered if it had anything to do with the tail he’d put on us when we were delivering to Mr. Albert.
Griggs was talking to two of his men in a hushed tone as we entered. He shooed his guys out and pointed to the chair across from his desk. I plucked off my hat and sat.
He finished putting some papers in a folder before offering me a cigarette, which I accepted. He struck a match, and I leaned over for a light. He lit his own and waved his hand to put out the flame. His chair squeaked as he leaned back and took a long hit off his Pall Mall. He squinted through the smoke at me. “You like working for me, J.J.?”
Everything always seemed like a trick question when it was coming from Griggs. “I like working for you just fine.”
He nodded. “Good, that’s real good.”
Loud laughter rumbled from down the hallway.
Griggs inclined his head that direction. “Poker game. One of the players is Starfield, the carnival owner.” He leaned forward. The sudden movement made me stiffen. I’d teased Bodhi over retelling horror stories about Griggs, but I knew for a fact that he was ruthless and that he’d shoot you in the head for turning a nose up at him. “In fact, Starfield’s little business adventure starts today,” he continued. “Amateur fight ring. You should come watch. Place a bet. The carnival strongman is a fucking gladiator, a beast of a man. Have you met him?”
“I haven’t had the pleasure.”
His cheeks sucked in as he pulled on his cigarette. It made his nose that much more pronounced. “I understand your brother is pretty good with his fist. Heard they call him Crusher in these parts.”
“He’s laid out a few people.”
He chuckled at my vague response. “He’s a regular at Breakers, isn’t he?”
I shrugged, not really feeling the need to answer.
“You should get him in the ring. That would be a match that would bring in big wagers. The Crusher versus Hector the Strongman. Your brother would be the one laid out as you so politely put it. But it would still be a good show.”
I wasn’t going to let him goad me into a debate about Gideon’s fighting skills. “Did you have a job for me today?” I decided this little interview had already gone on too long.
He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. It seemed he was about to toss it to me but he stopped. His black eyes skewered me across the desk. “I had a tail on you the other morning when you were making a delivery.”
I nodded. “Yes, you did.”
“Ah, you saw him.”
“He wasn’t exactly discrete.”
“Fool,” Griggs muttered to himself. “I need to cut his take in half. Anyhow, to my point. He said you t
ook a lot longer than necessary to drop off that whiskey. Had me a little concerned.”
“Concerned about what?”
He leaned forward again and casually pushed aside a pile of papers. Then he brushed them off the desk and they fluttered around the room. “Concerned about why the fuck it took you so long to drop off a damn crate of moonshine,” he barked.
I relaxed back, but my heart was pounding in my chest. The last place I wanted to die was in this weasel’s office and at his hands. “Albert was out in his yard.” I put the cigarette to my lips and inhaled. Griggs’s eye flickered with anger, but I kept my tone easy as I continued. “He’s one of those guys who likes to talk. He wanted my opinion on his garden. He was thinking about putting in a fountain.”
“A fountain?” He stared at me, and I gazed back at him, unflinching and ready for anything. “A fucking fountain?”
“Yep, a fucking fountain.”
Quiet tension drifted between us. He relaxed back with a laugh. Some of the tension went out of my shoulders. Then he drew his Colt out from under his jacket. He placed it on the desk in front of him as if he was just laying down a pencil. “You know what will happen if you double cross me, Jarrett?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I know.”
His propped his elbow on the desk next to the gun and pointed at me with his cigarette. “And it won’t just be you. In fact, I’ll let you live long enough to watch your brothers die first.”
“I understand,” I said darkly.
“Good.” He tossed me the paper. “Here’s the next job.”
I grabbed the paper and stood, wanting nothing more than to get the fuck out of his office.
“By the way,” he said, “I heard rumors that you were seen with that little carnival beauty, Charli.”
I froze in my steps.
“I hope those were only rumors.”