Hurricanes and Handcuffs: A Red Hot Cajun Nights Story

by Jodi Redford

  A decadent wave of bliss spiraled low in her belly, radiating outward through her body. She trembled, sobbing whimpers catching in her throat. Jax’s dark gaze bore into hers, compelling her to give in to the rising tide of sensation. “Come on my cock, baby. Now.”

  She broke on a shuddering wail, the powerful quakes racking her limbs. He swallowed her cries, his pumping cock stringing her ecstasy to the absolute max. Desperate to take him over the edge with her, she dug her nails into his flanks and met him stroke for stroke. The tension in his quivering muscles and the harshness of his breaths hinted that he was on the cusp of his own release. He surged deep, his thrust faltering, and she squeezed her inner muscles tight around him.

  A strained oath ripping from him, he shuddered in her embrace, the hot pulse of his cock noticeable even through the thin barrier of the condom. He slumped with a weak groan, shifting his weight so he rolled onto his side. Banding his arm around her waist, he pulled her to him, his rapid breaths mingling with hers.

  They lay tangled together for an endless moment. Now that the glow of her orgasm was fading reality returned with a vengeance. Only it was a reality she hadn’t counted on. In all of her brilliant planning she hadn’t factored in the biggest obstacle of all.

  Her fantasy of Jax was a pale shadow of what they’d just shared. And her heart felt no closer to letting him go.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Jax disposed of the condom and climbed back into bed with Gabbi. Her luscious curves an enticement he couldn’t resist, he trailed his fingers over the gentle dip of her waist. She played with his nipple, the lazy circling on his areola stoking his lusty cravings. Lowering his head, he nuzzled the side of her neck, her blissful sighs and sweet feminine scent officially scrambling his brain cells.

  He rolled her onto her back and cruised his mouth down to her breast. Plumping the soft mound with his hand, he kissed the stiffened peak before teasing it with the tip of his tongue. He suckled her nipple until she was squirming and gasping beneath him. Satisfied he’d worked her into a proper frenzy, he licked his way to her stomach and rimmed her bellybutton. Her abdominal muscles quivered, giving him a wicked idea.

  He pushed up onto his knees and crawled to the edge of the bed. Gabbi sent him a confused frown. “Where are you going?”

  “Downstairs. Need to grab a few things.”

  She propped herself up on her elbows and gaped at him. “Are you freakin’ kidding me right now?”

  “Nope. Be back in a flash.”

  “You better be, or I’ll finish this without you.”

  Her cranky pronouncement stalled him in mid-step. Pivoting on his heel, he strode to the nightstand and tugged open the bottom drawer. He located the pair of fur-lined handcuffs and returned to Gabbi. Calmly meeting her wide-eyed stare, he fished the chain around a headboard slat and clicked the cuffs around her wrists. “You were saying?”

  “Well played, you crafty son of a bitch.”

  Chuckling, he abandoned the master suite and jogged down the stairs to the solarium. He fetched one of the silver trays and loaded it up with the supplies for his feast before detouring to the kitchen for a couple of garbage bags.

  Gabbi’s bemused gaze locked on the tray when he ambled into the bedroom. “Really? You’re going to have a snack now?”

  “Mm hm. And it’s going to be mighty tasty.” He smacked his lips and plopped the tray on the foot of the bed. He took a moment to admire the decadent visual of her naked and handcuffed to the headboard, her scrumptious body his to do with as he pleased. Transferring his attention to his stash of supplies, he grabbed the trash bags and ripped them at the seams before arranging them beneath her.

  Judging from her slack-jawed expression, she’d finally figured out that she was part of his snack. Her gaze darted to the tray. “Do you have any idea the mess all of that could make?”

  “Hence the trash bags.” He snatched the shot glass. He’d debated using the actual hurricane glass but ultimately decided it’d be too difficult to keep balanced. The goal was to make this challenging. Not downright impossible. He planted the cocktail right above her navel. “Here’s how this is going to work. Manage not to spill that the entire time I’m eating and I’ll let you come.”

  “W-what if I do spill it?”

  “Then no orgasm for you, and I make you suck me off.”

  Her quickened breath hinted that she might not be entirely against that idea. Or at least the part about giving him a blow job. He settled between her legs and scooted the tray closer for easier access.

  His focus fused to her glistening pussy, he drizzled the honey dipping sauce directly on her clit and watched the thick syrup trickle over her labia. He lapped at the goo-covered bundle of nerves, each pass of his tongue causing her stomach muscles to jump. The brimming shot glass wobbled. “Careful, baby. You’re dangerously close to missing out on that orgasm.”

  She bared her teeth at him, her belly going rigid. He selected one of the powdered sugar dusted beignets and tore it in half before sopping it up with the honey sauce coating her pussy. Tossing her a wink, he popped the sweet morsel in his mouth and chewed it with lusty abandon. He licked his fingers. “I believe seconds are in order.”

  A frustrated groan rolled from her. Enjoying this far too much, he reapplied another generous helping of the honey and spread her labia apart with his thumbs, enabling the sticky sweetness to dribble along her folds. He plowed his tongue over her slit and flicked lazily at her clit. A fierce tremor shook through her, spilling a tiny portion of the hurricane over the rim of the shot glass. The alcohol pooled in her bellybutton. He tsked. “Bummer for you.”

  “You dirty rat bastard. You cheated by overfilling the glass.”

  “Would I do such a thing?” He scooted the tray aside and straddled her torso. “Time to pay up, sore loser.”

  He fisted his cock and her gaze ate up the way he gave his shaft a self-indulgent stroke. Offering her a wicked grin, he reached for the last of the honey sauce. “No point letting this go to waste.” He upended the bowl, glazing his dick with the honey. The gooey sensation was nowhere as erotic as the feel of Gabbi’s lips closing around the head of his cock for the first time. Mesmerized by the sight, he glided deeper, giving her another inch to taste. Her blissful hum vibrated around his shaft and traveled all the way to his balls.

  Closing his eyes, he gripped the top of the headboard and slowly fucked her mouth. The warm, wet heaven enclosing his throbbing flesh sent intense shockwaves rippling down his spine. It’d be so easy to come like this, and the uninhibited eagerness of her sucking guaranteed the likelihood of that happening, and soon, if he didn’t get a damn grip on his control.

  Unable to resist, he opened his eyes and tortured himself with another view of his slick cock sliding between her lips. His sensitive gland bumped over the grooves in the roof of her mouth. He hit the back of her throat and she swallowed him with a greedy moan. Certain he was two seconds from losing it, he disengaged and squeezed the base of his dick, the constriction a momentarily cease fire to the pressure building in his balls.

  Her eyes glassy with desire, Gabbi strained toward him. He offered her a hungry kiss, his salty essence on her honeyed lips adding to the fire in his veins. Skimming his mouth over her chin, he bit her before dropping onto his haunches between her legs. Gripping her behind the knees, he spread her wide and sank inside her, bottoming out with one deep thrust. She arched her back, her vibrant auburn strands steaming across the pillow as she shattered around him.

  Gabbi lost in the throes of rapture was the most beautiful thing he’d witnessed. He wanted to keep her coming all night long—hell, for the rest of eternity—just so he could watch the pleasure crashing across her face. She sobbed and shook, the fierce contractions of her pussy eroding what little remained of his control. Sweat blanketing his back, he pounded desperately toward the oblivion she offered. It slammed into him with blinding impact, ripping her name from the depths of his chest. Shuddering, he collapsed on top of
her.

  Several minutes passed before he chased down his breath and managed to rope it into submission. His head felt like it’d exploded. Both the one upstairs and the other one still buried in Gabbi.

  That thought brought a ping of alarm. Holy shit, did he...?

  Dredging up the necessary energy, he slipped from her and glanced down at his cock. Fuck.

  Heart pounding, he reached for the handcuffs and freed her from their bond. Maybe it would have been better to leave them on while he told her this. God knows it might be the only thing that’d keep her from killing him. “Gabbi, I forgot to use a condom.”

  She blinked at him. “What?”

  “I know it’s a stupid excuse, but I got carried away and wasn’t thinking.” Unmindful of the stickiness of his fingers, he raked them through his hair. “I’m sorry. Please believe me, I didn’t mean for it to happen. I always use protection.”

  “I’m on the pill.”

  Those four words were better than a death row pardon. Though truthfully, the more he thought about the idea of Gabbi carrying his baby, the less it terrified him. In fact, he kind of liked it. A lot. Which was strange, considering the thought of parenthood was something he’d always shied away from. Then again, just because his parents were perfectionistic, unemotional assholes didn’t mean he’d follow in their footsteps. He’d make damn sure that he didn’t.

  He tenderly kissed her fingertips and rubbed the circulation back into her wrists. “I get myself checked regularly, and I’m one hundred percent clean. You don’t have to worry about that.”

  “I am too. You’re the first man I’ve slept with in over a year.” She averted her gaze. “I’m only on birth control to regulate my periods.”

  Her admission surprised him, and while he was being honest with himself, it also made him happy. She’d never hinted that there might be a man in her life, but he’d agonized over that possibility. Knowing he had no competition in that area? Yeah, thrilled didn’t even begin to describe what he felt.

  He scooted off the bed. “I’ll get a shower going for us.”

  After setting the tray on the antique secretary for safe keeping, he padded into the master bath and dialed on the jets in the steam shower. Within a few seconds the water reached the optimal temperature and condensation clouded the glass doors. He returned to the bedroom and scooped Gabbi into his arms. She snuggled against his chest as he carried her into the tiled stall.

  Reluctant to release her from his arms, he set her on her feet and turned her toward the warm spray before acquiring the body wash from the built-in caddy. He squeezed the gel into his palm and spooned her from behind while he sudsed her breasts. Paying extra attention to her nipples, he kissed her steam-dampened neck. “I like you smelling like me.”

  She didn’t respond, so he ghosted his hand down her belly and slipped his soapy fingers between her legs. A sigh drifted from her and she melted into him. Much better. “They make a female version of this scent. We’ll get you some in Paris.”

  She stiffened. “You mean you’ll get me some.”

  “No, you should pick it out. Maybe you’ll like a different scent better.”

  A strange tension spiking the humid air around them, she pulled out of his embrace. Slicking a hand through the sodden lengths of her hair, she turned to face him. “Jax, I’m not going to Paris with you.”

  Why was she being so stubborn about it? He didn’t get it. Most women wanted to go on trips. Hell, usually they were begging him to take them to lavish places. Shit knows he’d gotten himself out of many an argument with past lady friends by chartering either his private jet or yacht to some tropical locale for a weekend of extravagance. “You wouldn’t have to cook for me, if that’s what you’re thinking. Besides, I need you to keep up your energy for other ways to service me,” he teased.

  Gabbi didn’t laugh. If anything, she looked sad, and a little angry. “You asked me earlier where this is headed. Now it’s your turn to tell me. Although I have a good idea already.”

  He frowned. “I don’t understand what you’re asking.”

  “Okay, I’ll spell it out for you.” She crossed her arms over her chest, blocking his view of her magnificent breasts. “It sounds an awful lot like you’re promoting me from your chef to your Flavor of the Week.”

  Her words were like a knife in his gut. “Why the fuck would you say something like that?”

  “Isn’t it true?”

  “Goddamn it, Gabbi. Do you honestly think I see you as that?”

  “Then what exactly are you proposing? What am I to you, Jax?” Her beseeching gaze tore through him, stirring all of the uncomfortable fears that gnawed on his psyche.

  The vulnerability closing in on him was more claustrophobic than the mist-shrouded shower stall. Acknowledging someone’s importance to your existence robbed you of power. He knew that for a fact. He also knew that Gabbi meant more to him than any other person in the world. At times it scared the living crap out of him. Because if she ever walked away from him he’d never survive the loss. “You’re my friend. My confidant. My lover. What more do you want me to say?”

  She stared at him for a long moment. Finally she dropped her gaze to the foamy water swirling around their feet. “Nothing. That’s all I needed to hear.”

  Relief swept through him. “Then it’s decided. You’ll come to Paris with me?”

  She nodded without meeting his gaze. Her quiet demeanor added to the unease brewing in his gut. He tipped her chin up, forcing her to look him in the eye. Her expression was unreadable, but he was certain of one thing. She was unhappy with him.

  One way or another, he’d fix whatever he did wrong and make her smile again. He’d spend every waking second of the rest of his life ensuring her happiness. Because there was no damn way he was fucking this up.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  How many times had she dreamed of waking up in Jax’s arms? Wistful and fragile as those hopes had seemed, they felt more substantial and attainable than the illusion of owning a piece of his heart.

  She’d known the chances of that happening were slim to none. She’d gone into this with her eyes wide open, and without any foolish ideas of him falling madly in love with her. But she also hadn’t counted on him suggesting a permanent fling. Which would amount to what, precisely? Her becoming his mistress? Because that sure as hell sounded like the situation to her.

  The really disturbing part? She was considering it.

  Just acknowledging it brought on a spike of queasiness. Was she really so desperate to be a part of his life that she’d settle for what little crumbs he’d throw her way? She had more self-respect than that.

  Didn’t she?

  Her stomach roiling, she untangled herself from Jax’s arms. He mumbled something in his sleep before rolling onto his other side. Although she knew she was prolonging her torment, she watched the moonlight play over the chiseled plane of his cheekbone. He’d never looked more like her dashing prince as he did right then. Only he wasn’t going to wake up and present her with a glass slipper before whisking her off to their castle in the clouds where they’d live happily ever after.

  Even if she did become his mistress, how long could it conceivably last? A month? A year? Sooner or later he’d grow bored. Then what? Worst case scenario for Jax, he’d feel awkward about her continuing to work for him. Maybe he’d even try to pawn her off on one of the other Nobles rather than deal with living under the same roof with her.

  Fuck that shit. If she left, it’d be on her terms. Bad enough she’d walk out the door with a broken heart, she refused to do it with zero trace of dignity.

  Hugging her arms to her chest, she headed into the hallway. Shivering, she hurried to her room and pulled back the quilt and bed sheets before huddling beneath them in pathetic misery.

  She eventually fell into a fitful snooze that was disturbed by constant nightmares. In one she was stranded alone in the middle of an ocean. All around her relentless waves threatened to shred her flimsy
lifeboat to smithereens. No matter how diligently she paddled for shore, she couldn’t escape the eye of the storm. Something slammed into the side of her inflatable boat, toppling her overboard. She opened her mouth, crying for help, and the deluge of suffocating water sucked her into the abyss.

  She jerked up in bed, shaking. A soundless sob broke from her and she slumped forward. Arms banded around her from behind, the unexpected contact jogging a yelp from her. Still trapped in the foggy recesses of her nightmare, she kicked and wiggled frantically, trying to break loose of her shadowed boogeyman.

  “Gabbi, honey, it’s me.”

  Jax’s gentle yet firm tone gradually cracked through her panic and she relaxed. Blinking as awareness settled in, she turned her head and peeked at him over her shoulder. “What are you doing?”

  “I could ask you the same thing.” He brushed the hair out of her eyes, his features set in confusion. “I got worried when I woke up and you weren’t there. What made you come back to your room?”

  “I must have sleep walked.”

  His expression remained unconvinced but surprisingly he refrained from calling her out on the lie. “Now that you’re awake do you want to come back to bed with me?”

  She clutched the covers tighter to her. “I’m too tired to move.”

  Gusting a weary breath, he pulled her down next to him and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her close. She stared at the wall, her chest tight from the suppressed emotions welling inside her. It felt like she was drowning under their weight. Maybe that’s what the nightmare meant. Only Jax wasn’t her lifeboat. He was the submerged iceberg waiting to capsize her completely.

  ***

  The doubts haunting her didn’t fade with the break of dawn. If anything, the harsh morning light only made it impossible to hide from the ramifications of giving her heart and body to a man who didn’t love her.

  Why had she foolishly assumed that she’d be able to get him out of her system? He was worse than a drug, and there was no rehab to cure her of this addiction, other than completely removing the temptation.