“I can promise you, honey, spanking isn’t hitting.” The sultry tone in his voice sent shivers down her body.
Taking a deep breath to regain her senses, she met his gaze.
“Let’s talk about what we should do about the wills and my brother,” she said.
His eyebrows rose. He hadn’t expected her to change the subject.
“We?” he asked. Cynical amusement flitted over his face. What was so funny? “I don’t think you have a clue yet. There is no we. There’s only me. You better learn that I don’t run a democracy in this house. In my house. I’m the ruler, master, and lord.”
She’d thought about saying it would be her house after they married, but thought better of it. That would be close to a death wish without the chance of dying. At the moment, she preferred living. And really, for some reason she wasn’t afraid of him. His gruff voice and words actually excited her. Besides, despite all of the threats he made, he hadn’t hurt her intentionally.
“What are your brothers? Peons?” She did wonder if he loved his brothers as she did hers.
“They have their own homes, their own jobs. They understand their positions in the organization.” He crossed his arms and looked down his nose at her. “Do you understand yours?” Before she could answer, he placed his hands on the wall behind her, framing her in. “Now tell me. Why did you shoot at me?”
Yes. He put her in her place. His forceful and dominant stance quickened the pace of her heartbeat. Even as a teenager, he had that aura of leadership. She admired that. It freaking melted her panties.
She eyed the bulging veins on his arms, beautifully sculpted by hard work or lifting weights. Her money was still on gym-made muscles. Having all the riches he’d grown up with, his work probably required no more than lifting a pen and his wallet.
“You’re the boss.” She tried to keep the sarcasm out of her tone. “I’ll walk one step behind you. But I have to talk to you about my brother.” She could place her pride to the side as little mattered to her beyond taking care of Damien. If she had to sleep with the devil to protect him, she’d do it. And when the devil looked like Jake Whitfield, who said she was sacrificing anything.
Once again, he surprised her. He lifted her by the shoulders and flattened her with his body against the wall before she could move. He gazed into her eyes as her toes barely scraped the floor.
“No. That bullshit can be left for last. Why were you shooting at me?”
She struggled, working at his hands as his hips pressed against hers. “Let go of me before I hurt you.” Turning her head away, she tried to keep her mind off how much she loved feeling his firm body against hers and the strength of his hands.
“Why, sugar, you couldn’t hurt me if you tried.”
“Your bloody shirt says differently.”
His evil chuckle didn’t reassure her when he let go, allowing her to stand on her own. Yet he remained in her personal space.
“Yeah. That was an anomaly, and you do owe me another shirt. This was my favorite one. The blue matched my eyes,” he said with a teasing tone.
She had cut him, and he only worried about his shirt? Maybe he was as crazy as his father. After another peek, she had to admit the color did look good on him. His wearing nothing would look even better. She mentally groaned.
With her feet flat on solid support, wearing two-inch-thick-soled boots, she was eye-level to his mouth. For such cruel-looking thin lips, they appeared soft. The type she’d probably enjoy biting. She shut her eyes and released a shaky breath.
Had she really thought that? What was it about this man that made her feel weak, feminine, and horny? The kind of thoughts flitting through her mind she’d learned to ignore years ago, except when alone. Mac had said there were only two reasons to have sex: to produce children and to control someone. She’d never understood who controlled whom. One thing she learned was if Mac caught her flirting with a boy, he would lock her in her room for days. The isolation had kept her out of trouble, but her imagination had done so much more.
Even with her eyes closed, she sensed a shadow crossing her face before she felt his warm breath on her cheek. Then male lips gently pressed to hers. She gasped, her heart racing as his tongue stroked and dipped into her mouth. Unable to resist the temptation, she opened wide and joined in, tasting and rubbing her tongue along his. She clutched his forearms and dug her nails into hard muscles, wanting to beg for more.
He tasted like what she expected: a mixture of smoke and something indefinably masculine. Each time her tongue met his, the passion of the touch built until she forgot to breathe for a couple of heartbeats. Seconds passed before she realized he’d broken their kiss, and she’d been following his mouth with hers. The room swirled as she gulped in air.
“I’ve got to see and feel them,” he muttered.
His large hands grabbed her corset and then shoved down the edge beneath her breasts. Her stiff nipples landed in rough, warm palms as he cupped and massaged. His touch felt good. Her heart thumped so hard she had difficultly catching her breath. She’d always suspected she would love it rough.
“Damn, I’ve been aching to do that,” he said in a raspy voice. His gaze devoured the view as he lifted them.
She probably should protest, but his touch and hungry look enthralled her to the point that forming words felt impossible. How long had she dreamed of having him touch her? The way he rubbed his thumbs over the sensitive nubs brought a whimper to her lips as she arched her back. With each caress, she ached for more.
“You like that, huh?” He chuckled and lightly tugged at them. “Then let’s see how you’ll like this.” His hands clasped her ribcage and lifted until her breasts were even with his mouth. Her hands clutched his shoulders. He rested a knee against the wall. His thigh supported the vee of her legs, providing enough support for his hands to roam.
He sucked in one tight nipple and tongued the tip. Every inch of her body zinged as nerves she’d never knew existed came alive. Whenever she’d been alone in her bedroom and tugged at them, it hadn’t felt as delicious as what he did with his mouth. She clasped his head and looked at the ceiling with unseeing eyes. Surely they’d rolled to the back of her head. Her heart pumped so fast, she expected it to burst. She clenched her teeth with the tiny amount of restraint she possessed to hold back the scream. The last thing she needed was to alert his brothers on what he was doing―correct that―in what they were doing. She didn’t want him to stop. No one had ever made her feel this way. Self-gratification would never do the trick again.
He moved his mouth from one breast to the other and back, while his hands slid down her torso. With ease, he unhooked, unzipped her pants and then his fingers slipped beneath the waistband of her pants to cup and massage her buttocks.
When had her ass become an erogenous zone?
He lifted her enough to open her pants all the way until cool air touched the moisture pooling between her legs. Pressing her shoulders back against the wall, he tilted her hips as his knee returned to support her.
His mouth continued to suckle, and his teeth tugged. Her fingers threaded through his thick hair just as calloused fingers rubbed between her slick folds. Dizzy from lack of oxygen, she was thankful for the support of his strong body and the wall behind her. She widened her legs and thrust her hips, enjoying how he knew exactly where and how to touch her.
Losing herself in his expertise, she jumped when someone banged on the door.
“Hey! We got a problem!” The male voice sounded pissed. Sen’s?
Jake released her breast with a smack and then gave it a lick. His thumb continued to massage the small knot, bringing moisture with each rotation. She should say something, protest, hit him. She only knew she didn’t want him to stop and didn’t care that someone stood a few feet away with a mere interior door between them, probably listening to her every moan.
Her gaze searched his, worried about what he planned next.
“Shh, sugar. Don’t worry. Sen won’t o
pen the door. If it’d been Ethan, I couldn’t swear to it. He loves to watch,” he said in a soft tone. Then he raised his voice. “What is it?”
He kept his gaze on hers. Unable to even blink, her gaze transfixed to his blue, blue eyes. A flush warmed her cheeks, her eyelids drifted half closed. Without hesitating, his fingers pulled at the sensitive bundle of nerves between her legs, and she shuddered. His fleeting grin attested to how much he enjoyed having her at his mercy.
Her head spun from trying to understand the man. He had too many layers, from caring one moment to devilishly provoking to tantalizing and on and on.
“You better quit what you’re doing and get out here.” Sen’s voice remained on the other side of the door.
“If it isn’t life or death, it can wait a little longer.” Jake’s voice was edged with dark impatience.
Terrified that Sen would open the door, she pushed at Jake’s hands. She needed to straighten her clothes, pull her shredded dignity around her. His hands finally slipped from out of her heat and pants.
“Let’s finish this quick. I’m nothing but considerate,” he whispered,
And before she realized what he planned to do, with one arm around her ribs and another behind her knees, he scooped her up and placed her on the edge of the desk. He swiped away the papers, lamp, and odds and ends and then spread her on top. He unfastened a couple of buckles and jerked off her boots and pants. Knowing his brother and who knew how many others were outside the door, she fought at his hands without saying a word. One Whitfield was bad enough, but if she shouted, others would come. No way could she handle them all.
She reached out to snatch her clothes back, but they flew across the room to land next to a large vase in the corner. When his hands seized her knees and lifted, she landed on her back, the breath knocked out of her. She scrambled to hang onto the cool top. Unable to regain her senses and tell him he was a son of a bitch, his mouth covered her folds. His tongue speared into her, finding the tender knot, and he sucked hard, finishing what his fingers had started. Her body arched as she threw back her head.
Sticking the side of her hand into her mouth, she bit down to silence the scream. Her heels dug into his shoulders. Then the best orgasm in her life washed over her wave by wave. That felt so gooood.
The man knew his way around a woman’s body, even if he went about it demandingly and rudely. Who was she kidding? She loved it.
“Sugar, you okay?”
The buzzing in her ears subsided. Limp and brain dead, she looked at him in surprise. How could any man know how to do that? He knew her body better than she did. Who had taught him that?
He wrapped an arm around her waist and hauled her up against his chest. Grabbing her hand, he flipped it over. That was when she noticed the blood. She’d bitten into the meaty portion near the thumb.
With his long reach, he pulled a tissue from a box sitting upside-down on a nearby chair and swiped at the red beads. “Damn. Like I said before, you’re beautifully responsive. That’s hot. Molten lava hot.” With unexpected tenderness, he brought her hand to his lips, kissing the wound, while his other hand slid up and down her bare thigh as if to soothe her.
She fought the urge to part her legs again. Her fingers itched to cup his crotch, to see how hard he was from his attentions. Oh, God, she hoped he was hard. It would be so disturbing to think he could do that to her and not feel anything.
As if he knew what she was thinking, he reached down and adjusted himself.
“I’m so fucking hard, I’m surprised I didn’t come in my pants.” He grinned and looked her over. Her breath shortened. “You and me. Later. When we have more time.”
A flash of devilment appeared in his eyes as he lifted her hand again and sucked in her middle finger. Zap! Hot pleasure shot straight to between her thighs.
“I’m going to send Ethan in, if you don’t hurry,” Sen said with exasperation in each word.
Jake pulled out her finger and licked a path down her palm. Did the man know every erogenous zone on a woman’s body?
“Your brother’s waiting for you,” she managed to say in a breathy voice. She really needed him to quit touching her. Maybe then she could reclaim her common sense and salvage some control over her own body.
“Yeah. You’re right. But I’m glad I got to taste you. You’re real sweet.” He ran his thumb across his lips and licked the pad as if he anticipated another meal on her behalf.
Unable to look at him any longer without begging him to take her, she glanced at the door.
He clutched her hair and slowly pulled her head back. “Look at me. I’m the one you need to worry about, the one you need to make happy,” he said roughly, possessively. Her heartbeat raced. When his gaze dropped to her lips, she knew. He was angry with himself for losing control and going down on her, for wanting more just as much as she did. She shuddered from the deep hunger boiling beneath the surface, brought on by his rough treatment. “You fascinate me. With your black, red-tipped hair.” He slid a knuckle down her face. “Even your pale makeup. Wild and unpredictable. So I’ve decided to meet the old man’s requirements for now. I saw the lust in your eyes when I yanked down your top. Even now, you like how I’m holding you, controlling you with your wild, beautiful hair. Let’s say I want to find out more about you and how you’ll react to all of my particular tastes,” he said in his deep, husky voice.
His fingers tightened until her scalp stung. Part of her wanted to fight back, but she never felt so alive, so freaking turned on. Her nipples tightened until they ached, and she wanted his mouth on her again. Then he turned the hand with the smeared makeup on the knuckle and lapped at each finger that had been in her seconds earlier, his gaze staying on hers. She whimpered again, wanting those glistening digits inside her, working their magic.
The pleasure crossing his face captivated her. Whatever he saw on hers satisfied him enough to let her go.
“I need my clothes,” she said barely above a whisper. Her dry throat hurt from panting so hard.
Remaining on the desk, passive and attentive to his every move as he gathered her black jeans and boots, she raised one eyebrow when he stuffed her black panties into his pocket, silently daring her to protest. Then he helped her dress and straightened her corset. He rearranged and buttoned and zipped his clothing without her help. She merely watched, but when he wrapped his fingers around his cock and moved it to one side of his pants, her breath quickened. Nothing sexier than watching a man situating his package.
“Sugar, you still haven’t answered me about why you shot at me, though I have a feeling it’s all tied into your anger management issues. So for now, go to the kitchen and tell my mom and Jimmie Sue I’ll be with them shortly. Introduce yourself to your future mother-in-law.” He grabbed her chin. “And be nice. If you hurt those ladies or make them uncomfortable, I’ll tear up your butt twice as bad as I did when we were in high school.”
When he turned and reached for the doorknob, she did it before she even thought it through. A thud echoed in the room. Near his ear, a letter opener was stuck into the wood paneling, the mother of pearl handle quivering.
Did he believe he could talk to her like that?
His cold gaze stared at it for a few seconds and then he glanced over his shoulder at her. Blue eyes darkened, giving her a warning. She knew without a doubt the line was drawn, and he expected payment for that show of disobedience. Excitement zinged through her veins.
He opened the door and strode out, greeting his brother without another look her way.
There was no doubt he would make her pay for that final defiance. She caught her breath at the thought. Sure, she needed to learn to control her temper, but she wanted his unspoken promise. His threat had spiked the desire to revisit her so-called just desserts for being bad. She’d wondered for years if the sting of his hand was as sweet as she remembered.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Whatcha find out, Luc?” Jake slipped into the front of the hearse parked at the end
of his drive and faced the man behind the wheel, waiting for an answer.
“You were right. Mac and the old man had been shot. From what they found, the shots were from a distance, probably across the dance floor, hitting each through the heart. Whoever did it was an ace shooter. He then partially covered the bodies with an accelerant to burn as much evidence as possible.” Luc offered Jake a cigarette and then shook one out.
Lucius Quinn owned and operated the one and only funeral home in Marystown. Like many of the long-time citizens, he’d owed Dick Whitfield, and in turn, owed the brothers. His payment came about by sewing up knife and bullet wounds without the necessary reporting to the authorities, and providing insider information through his friendship with the small county’s M.E. The report on the old man hadn’t been released to the family; mainly because the local deputies hated the Whitfields and did everything they could to make their life a misery.
Jake understood the cops feared more people would die if it was known that the old man had been murdered. From the beginning, he’d suspected homicide, especially after what Angel had blurted out in the limo, and the way the kid hated him. Somehow, she had found out the truth before Luc had.
The oily smell of lighter fluid drifted in the air-conditioned space as Luc offered the flame to Jake. Taking a long draw, Luc pressed two buttons on the door, lowering the windows slightly, and exhaled a stream of smoke. The wisps disappeared with the help of the air conditioning blasting full force.
Jake settled into the leather seat and watched the red tip of his cigarette glow brighter. Smoking always calmed his nerves. Since he was hornier than a dog chained in a barn full of bitches in heat, he needed the smoke badly. Leaving Angel had taken every bit of his willpower. Next time, he wasn’t sure if he could walk away without fucking her bowlegged.
“Whoever did this, the old man must’ve known him. No way would a stranger get that close to him before he shot back.” Jake blew a thin stream of smoke out the cracked window. “Any bullet wounds show up recently?” Jake knew Luc helped a few others outside the Whitfield organization.
Jake: A Southern Crime Family Novel Page 5