by Lili Valente
He cursed against her mouth as their lips met in a long, slow, sultry kiss. “Either works for me. Choose your own adventure, sunshine, but choose quickly or I’ll choose for you.”
“I’ll be good, but I want it a little rough,” she whispered, a thrill zipping through her as the words left her lips. “I can’t stop thinking about last night when you had your hand in my hair. It made me so wet, sir.”
“Then roll over.” Jackson pulled away, his volume dropping, the way it did when they started a scene. It was his “I’m in charge now” voice, the one that held such incredible power over her body that she suspected there would come a day when he would be able to make her come with his voice alone, no touch required. “Now, Hannah. Don’t make me ask again.”
“Yes, sir.” She hurried to obey his command, rolling over onto her stomach before pushing up onto her hands and knees on the beach towel she’d spread on the deck after their swim, her thighs already trembling with anticipation.
But she should have known Jackson wouldn’t want her in the same position as last night. Her love wasn’t only sweetly skilled and wonderfully wicked; he was creative.
“Swimsuit off and on your belly. Arms in front of you and legs spread.” As she hurried to obey, Jackson crossed to the other side of the boat, collecting something from the banquet where they’d had lunch before returning to her side. “Lift your hips.”
Hannah curved her spine and Jackson slipped a small pillow from the seating area beneath her pelvis before setting a hand on her bottom, signaling for her to relax.
“Now you’re ready.” He pressed a kiss to her shoulder as he tied her wrists in front of her with her discarded sarong. “Now I’ll be able to fuck you without leaving bruises on your pretty hip bones.”
“I don’t mind a bruise or two.” Hannah held her breath as he moved behind her, holding himself up in a push-up position, hovering close enough for her to feel the heat of his body, but not the brush of his skin against hers.
“Well, I do.” He kissed her other shoulder, making her ache for the feel of his weight settling on top of her. But he held himself away, taking his time trailing kisses up the back of her neck. “No bruises today. You’re too beautiful. All your sun-warmed skin and that white tan line on your ass. I’ve been dying to get you out of your swimsuit all day.”
“You should have said something sooner,” she whispered, shivering as his fingers wrapped gently around her throat, urging her to tilt her head back and push up on her forearms. “There’s no one around to see. We could have gone sailing naked.”
“Sometimes delayed satisfaction is the best kind.” His fingers trailed down her throat to skim the top of her breast. “Don’t you think?”
“How are you holding yourself up with one arm?” she asked, breath coming faster as her nipples pulled tight, aching for his touch. “I want to feel you.”
“I want to feel you, sir,” he corrected, but there was amusement in his voice. “And the answer is skill, sunshine. Patience and skill. Arch your back more. Yes, like that. Perfect.” He captured her nipple between his fingertips, pinching with the barest teasing pressure. “Now I want you to hold absolutely still. Don’t move, don’t squirm those pretty hips, don’t even let your shoulders rise and fall too fast as you breathe. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” she said, pressing her lips together as soon as the words left her mouth, sensing that obedience was going to be a battle.
Even with his warm fingers barely touching her nipple, it felt like her nerves were being set on fire. Electricity hummed from her sensitive tips to knot between her legs. As he transferred his attentions from one nipple to the other—continuing to hover above her body in a one-armed push-up position that she couldn’t believe even he could sustain for this long—her clit swelled and the pulse between her thighs picked up speed.
“I love your breasts,” Jackson whispered, kissing the place where her neck curved into her shoulder. “I love how your nipples get so tight for me.”
Hannah squeezed her eyes shut and dug her teeth into her bottom lip, fighting to stay still as he pinched and teased her nipples and her breath came faster, making her stomach flutter against the towel beneath her.
“I love the sounds you make when I bite them,” he said, trapping a mouthful of the top of her shoulder between his teeth and biting down, making her groan as a primal wave of lust rocketed through her.
“Yes, bite me again, sir,” she whispered, her entire body beginning to tremble. “Please. Please bite me again.”
“Not yet, sweetness,” he said, returning his teasing attention to her breasts, plucking first one nipple and then the other until it was pure hell not to move and a soft whimper escaped her lips. “You’re doing so well, but I know you can give me more. Spread your legs wider.”
She obeyed, so relieved to be granted permission to move, even just a little bit, that she danced a few feet away from the razor’s edge, regaining enough control that she was able to remain still when Jackson brought the tip of his cock to her entrance. It rested lightly at her opening, enough for her to feel how hot and hard he was, but not enough to grant her even the slightest bit of relief.
All she wanted was to lift her hips and shove backward, impaling herself on his erection. She wanted it so badly her inner walls pulsed and her body gushed wetness onto the blunt head of his cock, desperate to ease his way. But instead of pushing forward, he rocked his hips slowly from side to side, teasing first one side of her opening and then the other, while his fingers continued to twist and pluck at her nipples and Hannah slowly went out of her mind.
“God, please, Jackson,” she panted, tears rising in her eyes as she fought the overwhelming urge to move. “Please, please, please.”
“Please, what,” he demanded, tongue teasing back and forth across the place where he’d bitten her, where she was dying for him to bite her again. “And please, who?”
“Please fuck me, sir,” she practically snarled, so desperate for relief she couldn’t decide if she loved him or hated him. “Please, I can’t take any more. I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.” The strain in his voice indicating that he was nearing the edge of his own control was the only thing that kept her from breaking. “Just another minute, sunshine. You can do anything for one more minute. Sixty, fifty-nine, fifty-eight…”
As he counted down his touch grew rougher, harder, until he was twisting her nipples in painful, blissful circles and she was panting for breath and making desperate, unfeminine sounds low in her throat.
But she didn’t care. She was beyond caring about what Jackson thought of her. All she cared about was relief from the pressure mounting to a previously unfathomable peak inside of her. She was so high on lust there was no air to breathe.
Higher, higher, he took her until the world spun and her head felt too light for her body.
For a moment, she was afraid she would suffocate on her own desire and pass out before Jackson decided to end his erotic torture. But then he bit her again, hard enough to send pain flashing through her nerve endings, and dropped his hips, shoving all the way to the end of her.
Her cry of pain became a high-pitched keen as Jackson wrapped a bracing arm around her ribs and slammed all the way to the end of her, triggering an orgasm so intense it was like an atom bomb had been detonated in her core.
Hannah clawed at the deck beneath her as the world went white and she was blinded by pleasure. Euphoria spread from her center out to bathe every inch of her body in bliss, the release so sweet that pleasure became pain and then swung back around to pleasure again in a seemingly endless feedback loop while Jackson fucked her so hard she felt him everywhere.
Everywhere. In her belly, in her ribs, in her throat, filling her up until there was no place he hadn’t touched and there was no awareness of what was his and what was hers. There was only pulse and throb, hunger and satisfaction, love and the communion of two hearts beating in perfect harmony.
Hannah
was dimly aware of Jackson finding release and rolling onto his back, pulling her on top of him while he freed her hands, but she was still too lost in that other world they’d found together to pay too much attention to her body. She was at ten thousand feet, soaring weightless, not certain she would ever come down.
She had no idea how long she lay on top of him, catching her breath, only that when she finally opened her eyes the blue sky was stained with sunset light and the sea air had grown cooler.
“I wonder if that’s what heroin is like,” she rasped, her voice rough.
“If so, no wonder it’s so hard to quit.” Jackson’s fingers played gently up and down her stomach. “How do you do it?”
“Do what?” She turned her head, meeting his eyes over her shoulder, her heart flipping when she saw the vulnerable, open expression on his face.
“Make me want you more every day?”
She lifted her hand, cupping his scruffy cheek in her hand. “Dark magic.”
He smiled, and her flipping heart turned a cartwheel. “I believe it. There’s no other explanation.”
But there was another explanation. It was love. Once-in-a-lifetime, only-gets-better, love-you-more-every-day-until-they-put-me-in-the-ground love. She’d known that for a while now and someday soon, Jackson would know it, too.
She didn’t doubt it, not even on those mornings when he stayed in his room until well after breakfast, hiding from her after a night when close had become too close for his comfort. There would come a day when he would realize that there was no need to hide and nothing to be afraid of.
He was safe with her. He could let his guard down and be the man he truly was, the man who was as sweet as he was Dominant, as gentle as he was controlling. She would never take his love for granted or betray his trust.
Never. No matter what.
“No matter what,” she said aloud, her brows drawing together as something ugly whispered through her subconscious. It was like a foul smell drifting through the air, familiar, but horrible, something she knew she didn’t want to recognize.
Once she named it, there would be no denying the existence of the filth smeared across the walls or the body rotting beneath the floor.
Once she remembered, she would never forget again.
“What’s wrong?” Jackson asked, his voice going deep and dangerous as the orange sky darkened, black and blue creeping in to bruise the undersides of the clouds. “Cat got your tongue, Harley?”
Before she could reply, or tell him that she wasn’t Harley, Jackson’s hands were back around her throat.
But this time, his touch wasn’t gentle. His fingers tightened like a vice and pain blossomed through her forehead, the pressure building suddenly, fiercely, until it felt like her eyes would burst from their sockets.
Panicked, she clawed at Jackson’s arms, desperate for breath, but his grip only tightened.
“You’re going to die, Harley,” he growled against her throat as the world went black. “I will end you if it’s the last thing I do.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Hannah
Hannah woke with a startled groan, hands flying to her neck. She gasped for breath, her throat still tight from the terror of the beautiful memory turned nightmare.
She swallowed slowly and blinked, willing herself to remember the way that day on the boat had really ended, with her and Jackson sailing home under the stars. She’d snuggled in his lap as he’d steered with one arm wrapped around her waist, holding her close to him with a gentleness that made it clear that she was precious to him.
Her heartbeat was nearly under control when the world pitched. A moment later, the plane touched down with a rough bump.
Startled, Hannah turned to look out the window, where pale light glowed on the horizon and unfamiliar palm trees—more sparse and scrubby than the ones back home—streaked past the window. For a moment, she couldn’t remember where she was, but then it all came rushing back—Adam in the doorway, the miracle of learning that her sister was alive, the pain of realizing Jackson planned to kill Harley, and then the terror of grasping that she had much bigger problems than a broken heart.
She had been kidnapped by Jackson’s father and he was going to kill her. Or Harley. But first, he was going to make her father choose between the daughters he’d sacrificed so much to protect.
Depending on how things played out, this could be the last sunrise Hannah would ever see.
No. He won’t get away with this. You’ll find a way out and you’ll take Harley with you.
Hannah swallowed hard. Ignoring the lingering taste of her own sickness in her mouth and the acrid scent rising from the blanket she’d thrown over the puddle of vomit, she glanced around the cabin. Jackson’s father was nowhere in sight. He and Adam must both be in the cockpit, landing the plane, which meant she was alone for a few precious moments and she meant to make the most of them.
Flicking open her seatbelt, she lurched out of her seat, clinging to the back of the seat behind her, fighting the drag of the g-force as the plane continued to decelerate. She pulled her way to the rear of the cabin to a large desk that occupied most of the space near the bathroom and snatched the slim gray phone from its cradle, sagging with relief when she heard the buzz of the dial tone.
She’d noticed the phone last night, but under Ian’s watchful eye there had been no opportunity to attempt a call for help. Now, she had at least a minute or two before the men finished landing the plane.
Hopefully, it would be enough.
Quickly, she punched in the familiar phone number and waited with held breath as soft clicks drifted from the receiver, signaling that the call was trying to connect. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes with her free hand as her brain sparked and hummed, waking up fast as adrenaline dumped into her system.
She couldn’t believe she’d fallen asleep with Ian sitting across from her, watching her like an animal he couldn’t wait to slaughter. It must have been a defense mechanism, a way to cope with the stress induced by sharing air with a predator.
Whatever kindness Jackson possessed, he’d clearly inherited it from his mother. Based on their few hours of acquaintance, Hannah was willing to bet that Ian Hawke was a prototypical psychopath—a creature utterly without empathy or remorse—but she didn’t intend to stick around to confirm her diagnosis.
She was going to get away from Ian, even if she had to reach out to one monster to be saved from another. She couldn’t believe that Jackson had anything to do with her abduction. The tortured note in his voice as he’d called after her had been too real.
Finally, after several more clicks and a long, vibrating silence that made Hannah’s stomach sink with dread, the phone rang just as the plane slowed to cruising speed. Hannah’s fingers tightened around the receiver as she spun to look over her shoulder, praying that Jackson would answer before his father came back through the cockpit’s door.
He picked up halfway through the second ring. “Who is this?”
Unexpected tears surged into Hannah’s eyes, her throat locking tight as a wave of relief and longing swept through her. No matter what he’d done, it was so fucking good to hear Jackson’s voice.
“It’s Hannah, but I don’t have much time,” she said, sucking in a panicked breath. “Adam is working for your father. I’m on his private plane right now. We just landed somewhere with palm trees, but a long way from Tahiti. We were flying all night and the sun is just now coming up.”
“I’m coming for you. Can you see anything outside?” Jackson asked, getting right down to business though the strain in his voice made it clear he was worried about her. He was fine with killing Harley, but it seemed he still cared whether she lived or died. “Are there any identifying landmarks or an airfield name or—”
“Nothing. Just the palm trees.” Hannah leaned down to stare out one of the rear windows as the plane made a slight turn to the left, revealing a stunning view of the ocean and a tiny island off the coast. “No, wait. There’s a little
island next to the airstrip. It has a beach, a small dock, and bright red hammocks hanging in the trees. There’s no one there now, but it looks like some kind of tourist destination. Maybe that will help?”
“Maybe, but keep looking, and if we’re disconnected know that I’m close,” Jackson said, making Hannah’s knees go weak with relief. “The last satellite image had you near the Florida Keys. We’re only a couple of hours behind you. We’ll figure out where you’ve landed and I’ll get to you before he hurts you. I promise, Hannah. I swear it on my life. Just hold on.”
“I will, but hurry,” she said, sniffing hard as tears filled her eyes. “He’s going to kill me, Jackson. Me or Harley. I know you don’t care about her, but I—”
“No, you don’t understand, baby. I never—”
With a click and an ominous sounding whine, the line went dead. Stifling a panicked cry, Hannah jabbed at the switch hook, trying to get back to an open line and call him back.
She needed to hear his voice again. She needed him to finish what he’d been about to say. Maybe there had been some kind of horrible misunderstanding. Maybe he hadn’t betrayed her, maybe there was—
“Just like Romeo and Juliet.” A low voice from behind her broke into her panicked thoughts.
Hannah whirled to see Ian seated on the small sofa, his long legs crossed.
“Two households, alike in dignity,” he continued, a smirk on his face. “An ancient grudge that lingers on, souring the hearts of both young and old…”
“You have no heart,” Hannah whispered, letting the phone slip from her hand. “Jackson told me all about you.”
Ian’s brows rose. “I doubt all about. My son and I have never been close. I don’t tell him my secrets.” He lifted one shoulder and let it fall. “I don’t tell anyone my secrets. That’s the best way to keep them, don’t you think?”
Hannah leaned against the desk as the plane continued to taxi toward some unknown destination, wishing she had tried to open the cabin door when she had the chance. Now Ian sat between her and a possible break for freedom and there was no chance of overpowering him. He looked like he was well into his sixties but was in excellent physical condition, nearly as powerful and intimidating as his son.