by A. O. Peart
“What do you want me to do? How can I make this really good for you?” I asked, watching him and adding another little circle to my hip movement for a better stimulation.
His eyes opened a bit more, and one corner of his mouth twitched in an amused smile.
“Tell me. I want you to have an amazing orgasm,” I panted, getting really aroused again. “Oh, God, baby. I think I’m gonna come.”
Jack grasped my hips and slammed hard into me. “This is what I want—we come at the same time. It’s gonna feel fucking amazing. You’ll see.”
I gritted my teeth, moaning at the sensation. “I’m close, so close. Hurry, baby.”
“Touch yourself with one hand and play with your breasts with the other,” Jack commanded.
I did as he wished.
“That’s so hot,” he panted. “Keep going like this. And fuck me harder. Slam up and down, babe.”
I did that too, and Jack momentarily squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again to watch me. I rocked him hard, our bodies colliding, the wet sucking sounds of lovemaking mixing with the sound of skin slapping skin. I increased my speed, flying up and down, riding him hard.
He threw his head back and screamed, “Now, Willow! Now, come with me! Hard. Fuck, oh, fuck!” He thrashed under me, grasping my hips and grinding my pussy into his crotch.
This orgasm hit me like a tidal wave, leaving me spent and breathless. My knees spread wide to the sides, and I sank down, lying flat on Jack’s torso. I kissed him, our tongues unrelenting.
I don’t know how long we lay, wrapped in one another, catching our breath, and waiting for our heartbeats to slow down. Finally, we drifted off to sleep, clinging to one another, both reluctant to let the other go. I didn’t want to ever let go.
Later—after what might have been minutes or hours—I was on my back with Jack hovering over me, our faces inches apart.
“You are the most beautiful woman in this world. I’m falling in love with you all over again, Willow. Truth is, I’ve never stopped loving you.”
Tears streamed down my face, and I choked on the unspoken words. I couldn’t find the words to convey my own feelings for him and the realization that, like him, my love for him had never died.
“I dreamed of this moment ever since you left me. You’ve been always in my heart and in my very soul, Willow.”
“Which is exactly where I belong,” I whispered.
Chapter Twenty Six
Sometimes, after months—or even years—of disarray, everything falls right into place. Pieces of a gigantic puzzle, while scattered, may look impossible to put together; but, with effort and time, one by one, they become a masterpiece.
That’s how my life had been for the longest time—like a mountain of puzzle pieces that could only be connected if the first two pieces were joined. The initial piece of my puzzle was Seth’s assault, after which I escaped and hid in the only place I knew was close and safe—Rita’s apartment. Rita put the next piece of the puzzle in place, by inadvertently brining Jack back into my life.
Jack connected another puzzle piece by showing me, on more than one occasion, that he was a changed man, and that what I feared about him the most—his lack of control over his temper—simply was no longer an issue. Subconsciously, I’d clung to my memories of the Jack who got into fights over the smallest provocation. I’d been convinced that he’d never change.
“Why are you so deep in thought?” Jack wrapped his arms around me and kissed my neck. Twice. The second time, his tongue darted from between his soft lips and tasted my skin. “Mhm, you smell good,” he added in a low, seductive voice. His hands travelled upward and cupped my breasts, squeezing and rolling them gently, while his rapidly growing erection pressed hard onto my lower back.
“Why do you ask, when you couldn’t care less about the answer?” I laughed.
“Who says I don’t want to hear the answer?” His teeth grazed my earlobe, and a pure sexual current ran through me, all the way to my throbbing pussy.
“Jack,” I breathed, pushing my back onto his front and grinding in response.
But he was such a tease and, instead of continuing his sweet assault, he left me hot and bothered where I stood in front of the kitchen sink, peeling potatoes for dinner. I turned and looked at him incredulously. “Seriously? Just like that—gone?”
He sat in one of the kitchen chairs and reclined in it, yawning and stretching his arms over and behind his head. That movement pulled his clothes taut over his body, emphasizing what I now wanted so desperately to play with—that impressive, seductively proud bulge pushing against the fly of his jeans. I drew in a shaky breath. He noticed my obvious reaction to him and grinned, satisfied. It was incredible how attuned we had become to one another in just a few short weeks.
“Come and get it.” The tip of his tongue slowly swept over his upper lip while he watched me from under half-closed lids, still shamelessly reclined in the chair. But then he did something even more unabashed—he rubbed his crotch with his hand and very slowly moved his hips up and down.
“That’s it.” The vegetable peeler clunked into the sink, while I grabbed a kitchen towel and wiped my hands. In three strides I stood in before him, hands on my hips, pretending to fume. “Unzip them,” I ordered.
He hooted and catcalled, then threw back his head, and laughed.
I didn’t budge. I knew he wanted me as much as I wanted him—the proof was right there, stiff and hard as a rock, right under his hand.
“If you don’t unzip your fly, you won’t get any,” I taunted.
He tsked mockingly, raised his eyebrows and smiled. I couldn’t help it, I grinned at him, but I still didn’t touch him. Instead, I very slowly pulled off my t-shirt, and dropped it on the floor. I cupped my breasts and, standing right in front of Jack, squeezed them in my hands while smiling seductively at him.
He gulped, his eyes growing round, fixed on my chest. Slowly, he pulled down the zipper and moved the denim of his jeans aside, letting his cock push against the black cotton of his boxers. The view was spectacular. I leaned forward, put my hands on his knees, and kissed him hard on his mouth. He opened and let me in. Grabbing me around my waist and spreading my legs with his knees, he sat me smack down on top of his cock. It pressed right where I so desperately needed it, and I moaned into his mouth. I started rubbing against it, riding him brazenly, because there were no barriers between us, only trust, love, and understanding.
When I wanted him, I didn’t have to play games to make him comply. When he wanted me, he only had to say the word—often no words were even necessary. It was that simple between us.
“I want you inside me. Now!” I urged him, pulling my skirt all the way up and over my head. I let it drop to the floor. I pushed the damp fabric of my underwear aside, freed his rigid cock, and hungrily guided it inside me. “Oh!” I slammed down and rode up. “Oh!” I did that again and again and again. I came fast, after about five plunges, but there was no shame in it, nor in my satisfied, guttural sounds.
Jack’s lips were pulled back from his clenched teeth, his nostrils flared, his breath coming in short, shallow bursts. “Suck me off, baby,” he demanded.
Wordlessly, I pulled up with a sexy, wet sound and kneeled between his widespread knees. He was watching me with the most incredible expression on his face—there was lust, of course, but what dominated his features was devoted, unconditional love. He loved me so much, that the mere thought of it made my heart ache. And I loved him right back, more than I’d ever loved another human being.
My lips tightened on his thick, veined penis, and he growled, throwing his head back and draping his arm over his eyes. His other hand grasped my hair and guided my head up and down his shaft. I tasted myself on him, and liked it. Jack always made me so incredibly wet and crazy for him. I took two slow breaths while sucking him off then eased his cock deep down my throat. His body became rigid and he whispered, “God, baby, I just love when you do that.”
I slid him
out of my mouth with a smacking, wet, pop, and then swirled my tongue over the large head of his cock, teasing its tiny opening and stimulating a drop of precum to bead on its tip. Jack was shaking, ready to come. He grasped my head with his hands and said, pleadingly, “Either finish me off now, or ride me some more.”
“Which would you like better?” I teased, smiling.
He growled, pretending annoyance, “Woman, I’ll smack your behind so hard it will sting for days. Fuck me now, or let me do it myself.”
“Nope. I won’t let you do that yourself. You’re mine.” I grinned at him.
“That I am,” he said gently. He reached out to me and, lifting me up, guided me back onto his erect cock.
I sank down, immediately feeling a desperate need to ride him, hard. This was incredible; we simply could not get enough of each other. Some days it seemed as all we did was have sex. Maybe we were trying to make up for all those lost years. Or maybe it was that we truly belonged together—human puzzle pieces that would never truly fit if they were forced to be joined with anyone else.
We came together, clutching one another, whispering declarations of love and commitment, but most importantly, feeling an overwhelming need to make each other feel cared for and satisfied in every way.
Feeling spent and weak, I rested in Jack’s arms and lay my head on his shoulder, with his warm breath caressing my cheek. He kissed a line from my ear down alongside my jaw, all the way to my chin. I was relaxed, and all I could think of was how safe and loved Jack made me feel. He was the only man for me. I’d never been with anyone who made everything feel so … normal. The Jack I remembered had always been good to me and highly considerate of all my needs. He had loved and protected me, so not much had changed there; although I sensed that what Jack offered me now was much deeper, more mature, and was definitely rock solid. Back then, his temper ruined it all, and his juvenile need to prove his own worth by using physical strength was—to put it mildly—disappointing. I couldn’t trust him, back then, the way I trusted him now.
He drew circles on my naked back with the tips of his fingers. “You didn’t answer my question,” he said, his voice relaxed.
“What question was that?” I laughed.
“I asked why you were so deep in thought.”
I lifted my head from his shoulder. “You did? When?” I looked at him, smiling.
I felt him growing soft inside me. We badly needed a washcloth, but that could wait. I had no desire to move.
“When you were standing by the sink, peeling potatoes,” he said. “You looked like you were engrossed in some heavy-duty thinking.”
I growled softly, “Oh, that.” I lifted my head off his shoulder and looked in his bright-blue eyes. “I was just thinking about us. About how quickly things have progressed in just a few short weeks, and how everything between us is different now than it was six years ago.”
He was watching my face, looking like something bothered him. Maybe it was the way I phrased my observation. Finally he asked, “And you mean that … how? Is that good, or bad?”
I huffed indignantly, “Of course in a good way. I’m surprised you even have to ask.”
Jack kissed the tip of my nose. “But something’s bothering you, right?”
I sat up straight. “Well, sometimes I kinda get lost inside my head. Today, I’ve been thinking of how good we are together now, and how different things are than before. It’s great, right? But I have this nagging feeling that I need some kind of a closure. Maybe I need to acknowledge that something substantial, a pillar of what I’d always thought to be among my most basic beliefs, has crumbled. The question is—do I think that’s good, or do I think I lost an irreplaceable part of myself.”
Jack stared at me, a small frown pulling his eye brows together over the bridge of his nose. He waited patiently for a better explanation before he decided to venture into any theories.
Seeing that he needed more of an explanation, I continued, “I finally understand something about myself: I’ve always looked for bad boys, because I’ve had this stupid conviction that my purpose in life was to uncover and nourish the little bit of good they had in them. That’s why I ended up with Seth. I believed that I could change him for the better.”
Jack looked away, clearly uncomfortable with my admission. “Is that why you’re back with me?”
I was .utterly and genuinely shocked! Oh, crap. I had made him believe he was my next project. “No! Jesus, Jack, I wasn’t talking about you!” I wrapped my arms around his neck and nervously watched his face. “Well, maybe you and I had that kind of relationship in the past. Yeah, that makes sense. But not now. You are not the angry young man I used to know.”
“Okay,” he said slowly. There was a definite note of suspicion in his voice.
“Let me explain, although this is still confusing to me, too.”
“Try me.” He gave a tiny, sexy smile, and of course my heart melted.
“First, I need to …” I pointed to our joined bodies and giggled. “We are a mess.”
“I don’t care, but if you do … here, let me.” Jack shrugged. He took off his soft, white t-shirt, rewarding me with a mouth-watering view, and used the shirt to clean us off.
Immediately, the air seemed charged with pure male energy. I loved how my body responded to Jack’s sculpted torso—this time, it wasn’t a sexual response, but joyful pride in being his woman.
I half-stood and let him wipe the sticky mess off my thighs. I admired how meticulous he was trying to be.
He looked at me and said, “I’m all ears. I want to know what’s bothering you.”
I sighed and bit my upper lip, trying to decide how to phrase this better. “I used to feel sorry for Seth when he screwed up. Even when he was mean and rude to me, I still felt he was a lost soul that desperately needed my help. And I was willing to offer it, no matter the consequences.”
Jack raised one eyebrow, but remained quiet.
“But when he hit me, something inside me broke. That compunction shattered into tiny pieces and now it’s gone. And I’m relieved, because, no matter how noble my actions have always seemed, I always wound up a victim.”
Wordlessly, Jack wrapped his arms around me and held me close, gently rocking us from side to side. This was not only a soothing motion, but also silent proof that he understood. I felt as if the weight of the world had been lifted off of my shoulders, and I could finally take a deep breath.
I pulled back and looked in his eyes. He was my rock to lean on, and I owed him something substantial: my trust that he was finally capable of reigning in his temper, and making good decisions when handling situations that might trigger it. I knew his temptation to fight was long gone. Jack was a mature, responsible, and sensible man—a man I didn’t need to try to fix. And that was an excellent thing, because my urge to fix broken men was finally put to rest.
I pecked him on the lips and grinned. “You know, Jack McCoy. I think we will be just fine.”
THE END
Reclaim Me is the second installment in the Change Me/McCoy Raven Brothers series. All books are standalone, although some of the characters make appearances throughout the series. The next novel is scheduled for release in the early 2015.
OTHER BOOKS BY A.O. PEART
Change Me/McCoy Raven Brothers series
(Adult romantic suspense)
Resist Me
Almost Bad Boys series
(Adult humorous romantic comedy)
Almost Matched
Almost Broken Up
Almost Too Far
The Forged series
(Young Adult paranormal/urban fantasy)
Forged by Greed
Forged by Magic
Forged by Legacy
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
A huge thank you to my amazing assistants, Jessica and Lisa, my graphic guru Helena, my wonderful editor Lori, and the meticulous formatter Grace. This book would never come to be without your help. Thank you for your hard work an
d friendship.
***
This book belongs to all the firefighters and military personnel who ensure our safety and freedom, and to my readers who offer me their support, encouragement, and enthusiasm on daily basis.
Thank you!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
A.O. Peart writes in multiple Adult, NA, and YA genres, including romantic suspense, romantic comedy, paranormal, sci-fi, and urban fantasy. Angela lives in the Seattle area with her family and a chronically curious cat Cinnamon. You can often spot her in one of the countless Seattle Starbucks locations, feverishly typing on her computer and sipping coffee with cream—or rather cream with some coffee in it. Don’t be surprised when a paperback you ordered from her arrives “decorated” with coffee and chocolate stains (kidding!)
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