by Ivy Layne
Looking up, I met his eyes as I opened my lips and took him inside once more. His silver eyes were molten with lust—that I'd expected—but there was something else. Something demanding, proprietary. Something that said I was his and that I was precious. I dropped my eyes, unable to hold his gaze any longer. I was supposed to be taking control, reminding us what my place was in Jacob's life. The way he was looking at me had me more off balance than ever.
His fingers stroked at my scalp, not holding me in place, not tugging me closer. He was letting me lead, his hold on my hair a caress, not a command. My heart squeezed in my chest. What was going on here? I tried to focus on his cock in my mouth. I'd make him come, and we'd be back on even ground.
It made sense in my head, but I was too far gone already, lost in the taste of Jacob, captured by his rough gasp when I sucked him hard, the low moan when the head of his cock hit the back of my throat. I took every inch I could fit without choking, sucking hard, every nerve in my body on fire from the taste of him and his hands in my hair.
The tips of my hard nipples scraped his legs, and we both groaned. Every touch to my sensitized skin was too much. I was careening to overload, and he'd barely gotten his hands on me. Between my legs, I could feel the swollen, wet heat of my pussy. I was ready for Jacob.
My mouth slid faster over Jacob's cock, my lips and tongue fucking him, tight and wet, setting a rhythm that had him unable to resist fucking me back. A fierce joy exploded in my chest as his control slipped just a little. I needed to know I could do that to him, that I could push him until he needed me like I did him. His fingers curled to grip my hair as he groaned, "Abigail, I'm so close."
He was giving me a chance to pull away. It wasn't going to happen. I wanted this as much as he did. I wanted him to come on my tongue. I had to taste him. His orgasm was mine, and I'd earned every drop. My fist at the base of his cock milked him, my mouth sucking hard as his body stiffened and he came for me, his cock jerking on my tongue, his come filling my mouth. I swallowed him down, triumph filling my chest. Whatever happened between us, this part of Jacob was mine.
We stayed like that, Jacob catching his breath, my head resting against his thigh, his thick cock still half-hard, not an inch from my mouth. He'd just come, my tongue still coated in his taste, and I wanted to do it again. Mine. The thought kept running through my head. His long fingers stroked through my hair, and I reminded myself that he was not mine. I was his. Big difference. He would never be mine.
The world flipped upside down as he bent over and picked me up, cradling my naked body to his chest. I wasn't surprised when he headed down the hall to the bedrooms. As we passed the door to the guest room, to my room, a jolt of shock hit me. Jacob was taking me to his bedroom. I'd been in there once, the first full day I'd lived in the penthouse, but I hadn't invaded his private space since then.
He came to me. Always. I'd followed his lead and hadn't gone near his bedroom, sensing that he'd wanted that distance between us. As I'd drawn closer to him, I'd needed distance as much as he did. Maybe more.
I closed my eyes, hiding my face against his chest, suddenly afraid and completely unable to hide from him. Jacob was everywhere. His arms around me, his scent pervading every breath, the sound of his heartbeat echoing in my ear. Carefully, he laid me on his bed, coming down beside me, nudging me until I was spread out in the center of his duvet like an offering.
His eyes locked on mine, and I couldn't look away. I was afraid to read him, afraid I was lying to myself when I saw tenderness there, tangled with desire. I forced my eyes to close, catching my breath when his lips touched first one lid, then the other before taking my mouth in a deep, wet, claiming kiss. I could hide my eyes, but I couldn't hide from that kiss. My body was out of my control.
My arms came up around Jacob, holding him to me, my mouth moving under his, matching him, falling into the kiss with my body as my heart tried to run. His body moved over mine, covering me with his heat as he settled between my legs. His cock was hard again, thick and pressing against my slick pussy. No question that my body wanted him inside.
With a last, desperate wish, I wanted him to slam inside me, to fuck me hard, to take me with a rough detachment that would let me come with nothing more than a physical release. Instead, a tight knot in the center of my soul began to unwind as Jacob slowly pressed that thick cock inside me, stroking me with his body, taking me with a thorough patience that left me with no doubt he knew exactly what he was doing and who he was with.
I couldn't pretend this was some anonymous fuck. That I was nothing more to him than a convenient pet. Not when his lips stroked my ear and he breathed, "Abigail, fuck, Abigail. You feel so good. Fucking made for me."
A sob hitched in my chest. It was too much. He felt too good. Too right. His cock filled me, stretched me open and made me into someone else. This wasn't fucking. He was making love to me, his body singing to mine, stroking and touching me until I shook with it, desperate to come and wishing it would never end.
The orgasm broke over me in a wave of pleasure so sharp, I bit my tongue to keep from crying out. I was still trying to hide from him. I couldn't let him see me—he had split me open, stolen my defenses. I'd given my heart to him, and I hadn't even known when it happened. I could pretend this was still a game, or a deal, but I knew. This agreement with Jacob was deadly serious, and I'd lost all control.
The pleasure built again, sharp and sweet. I couldn't fight it. With each steady, measured thrust in my body, Jacob claimed more of my heart. He was stealing me, and I couldn't stop it. My nails sank into his shoulders, my back arched, and I came again, my body claiming his in tight, fierce pulses of my pussy.
He groaned his own release into my neck, filling me with his heat, before collapsing and rolling us to the side so he didn't crush me with his bigger body. I came back to myself slowly, his fingers stroking through my hair, soothing me, chasing away my thoughts before they could gather into coherent questions.
I felt tears drying on my face. I'd cried at the end as I'd come. I was still crying, silent tears trickling down my cheeks to land on Jacob's skin. Why was I crying? What was going on with Jacob? With me? Like a coward, I didn't sit up and demand he explain why he was behaving so differently. I stayed where I was, ignoring my own tears, treasuring the stroke of his fingers in my hair, the sound of his strong heartbeat beneath my cheek.
There would be time enough for explanations later. For now, I just wanted to pretend Jacob was mine, that this was real and I could have him for my own. I would deal with reality later.
I woke in the middle of the night to find myself still in Jacob's bed, my body draped over his and his arm clamped over my back, holding me to him, even in sleep. I shouldn't be here. This was dangerous. Making love in his bed was bad enough. I couldn't start sleeping here too.
I'd tried to put us back on even ground, to remind us both what we were, and somehow, Jacob had flipped everything upside down anyway. Now he was sleeping, and I was back in control. Holding my breath, I slid out from beneath his arm, carefully moving off the side of the bed.
My own sheets were cold and empty. I slid between them and turned on my side, gathering the spare pillow in my arms as if it could be some kind of replacement for Jacob. Not likely.
There was no replacement for Jacob, just a chilly, empty bed and a heart that was beyond repair. I lay there for hours, wishing for sleep, trying to fool myself into believing I was better off where I was. I drifted off as the first threads of dawn light came through the window, my cheeks again wet with tears.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
JACOB
* * *
I woke up reaching for Abigail and found my arms empty. For a moment, my brain fogged with sleep, I panicked, nightmare images of Big John taking her flashing through my brain. I bolted from the bed, heart thudding in my chest, before I skidded to a halt at her bedroom door at the sight of her curled up in her bed, fast asleep.
It was after dawn, and I would have be
en up already, but I'd turned off my alarm the night before. I hadn't wanted to wake Abigail. I had an early meeting, but I'd wanted to sleep as late as possible. Now that I'd had her in my bed, I wanted to keep her there. Instead, she'd woken in the night and stolen away like a thief.
I didn't have to turn on the light to see the tracks of dried tears on her smooth cheeks. I didn't want to understand. I'd be lying to myself if I didn't admit that I was disturbed by the changes between us. Abigail Jordan was supposed to be an experiment. A pet. A private indulgence. I was not supposed to want to keep her. I'd planned to enjoy her until the danger from Big John had passed, then set up a trust to take care of her mother and send her on her way.
A few months of spectacular sex at a cost I could well afford. I'd always wanted a taste of Abigail, and this way, I could do a good deed and get my fill of her at the same time. At its worst, the situation would soothe my conscience for all the time I'd spent lusting after another man's wife.
I should have known the plan would fall apart the first time she'd gone to her knees for me. The wave of possessiveness I'd felt should have been a warning. I'd ignored it. I'd gorged myself on her, taking everything I wanted from Abigail, not caring that each day with her, my need had grown.
I hated the thought of her full name. Abigail Jordan. She didn't belong to them. John hadn't deserved her. She'd been wasted on him. Abigail was mine. It wasn't enough to own her body. At the start, I'd thought that would be more than enough. Her body and her willingness to give me anything I desired. What more could any man possibly want from a woman?
What did I care what was in her heart, in her soul? The more I sated myself in her tight, slick pussy, the more her body alone wasn't enough. I wanted her smiles, her laughter. I craved a soft look. Her casual affection. I knew she desired me. Abigail wasn't experienced enough to fake her body's reaction to me.
I was a greedy bastard, and I didn't care. I'd known what she was doing the night before with her strip tease. Fucking hell, she'd been hot, peeling open her silk robe and sucking my cock like she'd been dreaming of it all day.
By the time I got inside her, she'd been soaked, so turned on from sucking me off that the moisture from her pussy had slicked down her legs. Abigail was a treasure, and she was terrified of me. Of what was happening between us.
I wanted to pretend I didn't get it, wanted to tell myself this was simple. I knew it wasn't. She'd been victimized by her husband. He might have married her, while I'd tried to make her my pet, but John had used her love for her mother to enslave her.
And how is that different from what you did? A sly voice in the back of my head demanded. But it was different. Maybe not at the very beginning. But I'd planned to set her free. And now? Are you going to set her free now?
No, I was not going to set her free. I couldn't. What if she actually left? First, she wasn't safe. I'd hid from her the details of Big John's intentions. He wasn't just planning to use her to convince the Raptors to work with him. She'd become part of the deal. If he got her, he'd give her to them.
What they'd do with her didn't bear thinking about. There were gangs out there who weren't that bad. Not all criminals were animals. I knew a few legitimate businessmen who were far worse than some of the men and women on the wrong side of the law. The Raptors were every ugly cliché made worse. Abigail would be better off dead than with them. And when that problem is taken care of? Will you let her go then? The sneaky voice sounded a lot like my conscience. I wished it would shut the hell up.
I was taking better care of Abigail than John ever had. And no, I was not going to fucking let her go. I wouldn't chain her to the bed. I wasn't an animal. I wasn't Big John. I'd just have to make sure she didn't want to leave me. She hadn't cried the night before because she didn't want me. I wasn't a mind reader, but I knew Abigail wasn't that good of an actress.
When she was hiding her thoughts, she got all proper and dignified. She didn't drop to her knees and suck my cock like she'd been dreaming of nothing else for her entire life. She didn't cling to my arms and cry out her orgasm. I'd felt her shock when I'd kissed her. I'd shocked myself. I'd avoided kissing Abigail for weeks. Now that I'd done it, I had to wonder what the fuck had been wrong with me.
Kissing her was like tasting her soul. All her sweetness, everything that made her Abigail, was right there in her lips, in the way her mouth opened for me, in the little gasps and hitches of her breath as I claimed her. Now that I'd kissed her, I was going to do it every day. Every hour.
She needed to tell herself that we were just sex. I understood. She'd been stripped of too much in the last few years. She couldn't take the risk of losing more. Of losing her heart. Was that what I wanted? Her heart? Stop being such a pussy, that irritatingly knowing voice said. Man up and admit what this is about.
Fuck. Love. Was it about love? Is that what I wanted from her? I'd never wanted it from a woman before. I knew what love was. Knew what it looked like. I'd grown up in a home filled with love before it had been stolen from us. A memory of the picture some asshole had sent of my Aunt and Uncle's deaths flashed through my mind, carrying with it a bolt of nausea. I remembered that I still hadn't apologized for being such a bastard to Abigail. Fuck. If I wanted her to stay, I was doing a shit job of convincing her I was a good bet.
I had to do better. She was scared, and she should be. I'd been an ass from the start, wanting everything on my terms. If I was really going to be honest with myself, that wasn't going to change. I still wanted everything on my terms. It's just that now, I wanted what was best for Abigail. If I was going to give her my best, I had to make sure she wanted the same thing I did. I wanted Abigail to stay with me. I needed her to be mine. All I had to do was convince her she wanted the same.
I was already more than halfway there. She might have convinced herself otherwise, but I knew she never would have come to me in the first place, never would have let me touch her body the way I had, if she hadn't already been half in love with me to start. She could have told herself that she was exploring her sexuality, or whatever bullshit she'd used to justify giving me control of her body, but the base fact was that Abigail would never have accepted my offer if she hadn't already had feelings for me. At the very least, she trusted me. I could work with that.
My mind occupied with Abigail, I got dressed for my meeting and left the penthouse. I'd get coffee and breakfast there. Maybe I'd even leave work early. The building was quiet at this hour, the parking garage well-lit but silent. That was probably why the scuff of the shoe on concrete caught my attention so easily. I couldn't see anyone else between the rows of cars. No engines were running, and no headlights flashed.
I slowed, looking around. We had security down here, at the entrances from the street, on top of cameras and hand scanners on the stairwell and the elevator. No one should be able to get into the garage who didn't belong, but it wouldn't be the first time someone had managed to slip through the guards.
Cooper was right. If I'd wanted a truly secure building, I would have left off the retail and the office space. Once I decided to give the public access to Winters House, I'd made it far more complicated to keep the building safe from intruders. At the time, that hadn't been a concern. Now that it was, I was starting to wonder if we shouldn't relocate to the real Winters House.
Our family home didn't have a formal name, but all of us had always called it Winters House, and my giving this building the same name had been an inside family joke. The real Winters House, where my oldest brother, Aidan, and my younger sister, Charlotte, still lived, was a ten-acre estate in the heart of Buckhead.
Surrounded by a high wall, protected by motion detectors and armed guards twenty-four seven, Aidan's home, my home, was close to impenetrable. But I didn't want to move in with my brother. I didn't think he knew what I've been up to with Abigail. If he did, I'm sure I would've had a phone call or a visit already. Aidan loved his siblings and his cousins, but he was a nosy bastard. He took his position as the head of t
he family seriously. Too seriously.
I wasn't sure I was satisfied with my explanations to my own conscience. I already knew they wouldn't be good enough for Aidan's. It was the best indication I could have that I needed to get myself together where Abigail was concerned. As my mother always used to tell us, "If you're too embarrassed to tell the people you love about something you're doing, either you're doing wrong, or you need more confidence in your choices." I missed my mother.
Nearing my car, I heard it again. The scuff of the shoe on concrete. Not a dress shoe like mine. A sneaker. Maybe a work boot. Something softer, rubber, but the sound was there. Investigate? Or get in the car and call Cooper? I wasn't stupid. I was in good shape, and I was fast. I knew how to use a gun, but I wasn't carrying. If I thought there was trouble, I was better off getting the hell out of there than trying to deal with it on my own. Walking faster, I clicked the button to unlock my car and swung my briefcase to my right hand. It wasn't the best weapon, but it was all I had.
Possibly sensing that his quarry was going to escape, whoever else was in the garage stopped trying to hide. Footsteps came toward me, shuffling then pounding at the concrete. I was less than a yard from my car. Diving for the driver’s side door, I wrenched it open and slung myself inside, losing my briefcase on the concrete.
The engine turned over, and I jammed the car into reverse when the rear window exploded in a shower of glass. Where the fuck was the Sinclair team? At that thought, I heard shouts from behind my car. More gunshots. Hitting the gas, I reversed out of the parking space, then jammed on the brakes when I felt the thud of impact. I hoped it wasn't one of Cooper's guys.
I looked around the parking garage wildly, trying to figure out my next move. I could hear the shouts of 'security', then my name.