by Taylor Lee
Sam startled, feeling his big hands slide under her sweats and within seconds, a cool wave of air confirmed that she was now totally naked. He stopped her protest with an amazed gasp.
“God, Samantha, and I thought your breasts were beautiful.” She felt his fingers trace across her taut belly and heard his admiring murmurs. In response to his intimate touch Sam reared back, clenching her legs together in what she knew was a futile attempt to protect her damp pussy from his expert exploration. Expelling a hard sigh, Jake rebuked her. “Uh-uh, Sam, I purposefully didn’t restrain your legs because I need unfettered access to your beautiful pussy. But if I have to tie your legs, spread-eagle you on the bed, I will. Do you understand?”
Sam tossed her head from side to side and whimpered, “Jake, I can’t…It’s too much. You don’t understand…”
“Understand what, my beautiful woman? That you don’t want me to bend your legs, like this, and spread them open wide, like this?” Before she could do more than wail in protest, he said, “But, Samantha, if I don’t hold your legs like this, how can I feast on your beautiful pussy? How can I bury my tongue in your intimate folds and drive you crazy sucking on your clit?”
Samantha didn’t know how she survived his assault. Using his tongue, his teeth, and his expert fingers he dragged a chorus of wailing sobs and pleading cries from her as he truly did feast on her pussy. When she’d come more times than she’d known were possible and her throat was raw from her ecstatic wails, he rose from the bed. His voice was hoarse, ragged. “I want you, Sam. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted a woman.” She heard the sounds of his boots hitting the floor, the telltale zipper sliding open. When he climbed back on top of her, she felt his strong naked body press against her and ached to touch him. He groaned a hard male sound as he spread her legs and moved up between them. When he pressed the end of his cock against her weeping vagina she was stunned to feel the size of his erection. She didn’t know how she could possibly take all of him inside her. His worried mutterings echoed her concerns.
“Damn, Samantha. I have to warn you baby, I’m a big man, and God, honey, you’re so tight!”
Feeling him easing cautiously into her tight channel, Samantha felt the beginnings of yet another orgasm igniting her vagina. Stunned by the way her body was responding to his tentative thrusts she was shocked to hear her frantic implications. “Please, Jake, don’t stop. God, whatever you do, don’t stop. I need you now!”
Samantha didn’t know when if ever she would forget the big man rising up and entering her one strong thrust after another. Not able to contain the tsunami of sensations that exploded throughout her core, the only cry more intense than her shrieking wail was Jake’s triumphant shout as he buried himself deep inside of her welcoming body.
Chapter 16
Jake collapsed on top of Sam, not knowing how or if he could survive the extraordinary climax racking his body. In all his years of actively engaging in sex, he could honestly say that he had never had an orgasm like the one raging over him now. His heart was pounding so hard that it was in danger of breaking through his chest. Breathing, which should have been automatic, was anything but. He was certain sucking in a decent lungful of air was a lifetime away. And the idea of standing on his shaking legs was a non-starter.
Rolling to Sam’s side, Jake quickly removed the cuffs restraining her and untied the blindfold. Rubbing at the inflamed marks on her wrists, he was glad that he’d used the high-end, leather lined cuffs that were much gentler than the police issue metal cuffs. Brushing her tangled hair off her face, he leaned down to kiss her flushed cheek. He wasn’t surprised to see the tears on her face. He prayed they were tears of joy. Her whispery pants and soft moans confirmed that she was negotiating the same passionate tidal wave swamping him. He wrapped her in his arms and held her close to him, not knowing if he could ever let her go.
At a deep level Jake was concerned that in his passion he might have hurt Samantha. Goddamn, he couldn’t believe how tight she was or how egregiously he had taken her. He scoffed at his choice of words. Fuck it, why not just say it. He’d fucked her as hard and thoroughly as he ever had anyone. But unlike the experienced women he customarily bedded, Sam was a genuine neophyte. Not a virgin, but goddamn close.
When he finally got his heart rate out of cardiac arrest range, Jake forced himself out of her bed and went into the bathroom. Returning with a basin of warm water, he knelt beside the bed, relieved that Sam had drifted into what appeared to be a deep sleep. Careful not to wake her, he gently washed the sweat off her face and neck and then moved to the rest of her body. He washed her beautiful breasts, smiling at her soft moans. Moving to the space between her legs, he gently separated her thighs. Carefully cleaning her intimate folds, he reveled in the erotic fragrance of their combined juices. When he finished, he pulled the covers over her naked body, glad that she was able to sleep.
Given the challenging day, not to mention the night that she’d had, she was clearly exhausted. While it was unlikely, he hoped that she might sleep till noon. Tucking the pillow under her head, he wrapped the blankets tightly around her. Leaning down, he kissed each of her eyelids, then gently brushed his lips across her swollen mouth. As much as he hated leaving her, he had an early morning meeting at the precinct. Fortunately he had a shower and changing room with a well-stocked closet next to his private office. He knew that the chances of anyone recognizing the unmarked cargo van he’d driven last night were next to nil, but he didn’t want to take a chance on anyone see him leaving her house in the early morning hours.
He grabbed a notepad from the dresser and scribbled a note.
Thank you, my prickly princess. I learned more about love tonight than I have ever known. However, I realized that I didn’t show you the difference between hitting and spanking as I’d intended. Clearly more lessons are in order. Maybe next time we’ll forego the restraints. Although knowing how feisty you are, I may decide to add leg restraints. Sleep well, my lovely princess. Until you’re in my arms again. Jake
****
Sam struggled to wake from her tormented sleep. Glancing at the clock, she was startled to see that it was after nine o’clock. She groggily insisted that wasn’t possible. She never slept past seven, ever. Usually she rose with the sun and was having the first of her five daily cups of coffee no later than 6:00 a.m. As she pushed herself into a sitting position, Sam acknowledged that her wake up time wasn’t the only thing that was out of order. To start with, she was stark naked and aching in places she didn’t know could ache. Then it hit her. The rush of images and sensations flooding her confirmed that she had spent the most remarkable and impossible night of her life.
Dragging her blankets over her naked body she tried shutting her eyes to erase the astonishing memories coursing through her brain. It was useless. There were too many confirming clues to ignore. The remnants of the clothes she’d been wearing lay in a heap on the floor. The marks on her wrists slammed home the reality of the night she’d spent—and the man who’d spent it with her. Forcing herself to look at the reddened streaks on her wrists, she allowed herself to remember Jake’s wicked smile as he calmly dragged her arms over her head and restrained her to the bed. And that was only the beginning.
Gingerly touching her nipples, Sam wasn’t surprised that they were sore. How could they not be? God, had he really brought her to orgasm by sucking on her breasts? Was that possible? To her horror she now knew that it was. But how? Dear God, she’d only had sex a few times in her twenty-five years and the last time had been when she turned twenty-one and got roaring drunk to celebrate her birthday. Her memory of that night wasn’t the pitiful sex, it was the crippling three-day hangover. The bigger issue regarding orgasms was that the only ones she’d ever had were wrought from her own capable hands and erotic imagination, certainly not the inept men she’d been with.
Struggling to deal with the totality of the night she’d spent, Sam reached between her legs and touched her intimate lips. Like her n
ipples, they were swollen and sore. Startled, Sam acknowledged that for the first time in her life someone had gone down on her. She sniffed, thinking what a ridiculous way to describe the amazing and incredibly intimate things that Jake had done to her.
Saying his name silently to herself, Sam came face to face with the most impossible part of the overwhelming experience. The man who did this to her was Jake, not some imaginary rock star she’d drooled over in magazines, but a real man. And not incidentally the most handsome and sexiest man she’d ever known. He had come into her house uninvited, cuffed her to her bed, stripped her naked, and to be blunt, had fucked the hell out of her. But even as she described what had happened as crassly as she could, she knew that wasn’t accurate. Such a callous depiction didn’t allow for his awed admiration of her body or the comforting, reassuring words he whispered as he feasted on her most intimate places and brought her to more orgasmic heights than she’d known were possible.
Focusing on Jake, Sam forced herself to acknowledge who he was. To put it succinctly, he was a Justice brother, one of four extraordinary men who had achieved a Northwoods version of a Guinness World Record of sexual prowess. According to the titillating lore, the fabled quartet had ploughed their way through most of the beddable women in the county and beyond with the efficiency of a BangShift snow plow. Now at least, Sam thought with a disheartened groan, she could add herself to that cast of thousands.
Hoisting herself out of bed, Sam headed for the shower, astonished at how many places on her body were sore. God, she’d survived vigorous Krav Maga matches with less aching body parts. She reminded herself that the challenging martial arts regimen only affected the surface of her body, not internal, secretive places that she hadn’t known could ache. Like her heart, for instance. Entering the bathroom, the basin on the vanity spiked a fuzzy image of Jake washing her body with warm water. Sam closed her eyes trying to blot out the memory of him murmuring how beautiful she was as he gently but thoroughly washed her most intimate places. The memory was too tender, too touching to banish. Allowing tears to fall that she couldn’t hold back lessened its poignant pull—at least somewhat.
A blistering hot shower and a mug of bitterly strong coffee helped convince Sam that she could erase the erotic experience or at least sequester it in a hard-to-reach portion of her brain. Which was essential if she was going to get the hell into her office to work. Marching deliberately out of the bedroom, she saw the note on the corner of the dresser. It was in Jake’s distinctive handwriting. Unable to keep from reading it, she almost gave in to the emotions that had bedeviled her since she wakened. With a determined shake of her head, and refusing to give into its magnetic pull, she crumpled the touching and audacious note into a ball and shoved it in her pants pocket.
Striding into the bright sunlight of what was now a late morning, Sam decreed that she would not, could not let Jake invade her psyche as he seemed determined to do. She reminded herself with a bitter snort that this was the same man who had planted an undercover agent on her reservation without her knowledge or permission. No matter how he tried to explain it, the facts were clear. He didn’t respect her professionally enough to include her in the decision to insert Mackey or to remove him as she’d asked. It was an untenable situation. She ground her teeth together and determined that no matter what had happened the night before, she would not allow Commander Jake Justice to take over her reservation or her life.
****
“Are you saying that Mingan is involved in the meth mess?” Mark’s questioning frown underscored his disbelief.
“I don’t know.” Sam shrugged. “On one level, I don’t think so, but on another, I’m concerned. Clearly Mingan is angry—primarily with me. But if Jake and his brothers and that DEA asshole are right, and the cartels are trying to establish a methamphetamine source on the reservation, they are going to need an inside accomplice. In my mind they would look for someone who is angry, thinks he’s dismissed, and not respected as a leader. Someone who feels slighted and has cohorts who are as twisted with hate as he is.”
Henry nodded thoughtfully. “And who believe that outsiders are controlling their lives in detrimental ways. The DPD, for example. Jesus, think how many times Mingan and his boys have been arrested. We all know that if he hadn’t been able to convince Emily Ann Slattern to recant, Jake and Jorden Justice would have had his ass in prison for rape, of a minor, no less. Fuck it, he’d be in gen pop at St. Cloud for ten, twenty years if Jake had his way.”
Sam emitted a troubled sigh. The suspected rape had occurred several years before she’d returned to the reservation. It was one of the first things her grandfather warned her about when he saw Mingan insinuating himself into Sam’s life. She’d assumed at the time that her grandfather was being overprotective, but the more she saw of Mingan the more his behavior concerned her. Obviously he hated the white establishment, Jake in particular. Even before she was in the picture, the two men were sworn enemies.
In addition, Mingan saw every issue through the prism of race. Sam admitted that she also was supersensitive about racial inequities and always on the alert for discrimination. But Mingan’s worldview was strictly brown versus white. In his angry cosmos the only way the browns could survive was if he and his followers outwitted and “out-violenced” their persecutors. The more she thought about Chief Thomas’s description of the kind of men the cartels would try to recruit, the more Mingan fit the bill. Adding in his visceral hatred of the white law enforcement establishment, particularly its commander, Mingan looked like a hell of a promising recruit.
Mark broke in. “Speaking of the rape charge that every damn one of us knows was true, I don’t like the number of girls that are running after Mingan and his asshole buddies. Christ, a lot of those girls are fifteen, sixteen years old at the most.”
Sam frowned and then breathed out a heavy sigh. “I’ve noticed the same thing, Mark. I’ve been trying to create a relationship with the teenage girls on the rez, but I admit I haven’t been successful. I’ve got Kate doing legwork for me, trying to open doors. She knows Isabella Harper, who seems to be the ringleader as far as the younger girls are concerned. It’s no secret that Isabella resents me. I heard her call me a ‘cherry nigger’ the other day, apparently because I’m not pure.” Sam didn’t add that she’d also heard Isabella call her a “tomahonky,” obviously referring to her association with Jake. “The fact that Isabella is openly hostile and that so many of the young girls admire her worries me. One of my concerns is that where there are drugs, prostitution follows. If the cartels really do have their eyes on the reservation, we shouldn’t be surprised that they might be interested in a sideline business.” Thinking about Isabella, she added with a hard sigh, “Just as the big boys are looking for susceptible recruits to grow their meth business, they might be equally interested in young men and women willing to pimp out their friends.”
Henry was horrified. “Jesus, Sam, that thought never entered my mind.” He hesitated, then added with a worried frown, “Don’t ask me why not. I’ve been so worried about the drug threat that I never thought about the girls.”
Sam shrugged. “I don’t know that it’s real, Henry. But we know prostitution is as common on the rez, as booze. According to the statistics I’ve seen, next to illegal drugs, the second biggest cartel cash crop is human trafficking. We’d be crazy not to keep an eye out for any signs that our young women are in danger. More than they already are, that is.”
Sam, Mark, and Henry spent the afternoon carving out a plan to determine precisely what Mingan and his gang were up to in addition to being troublemakers and lawbreakers. It curdled Sam’s gut that she couldn’t tell her trusted deputies that Commander Justice and his conniving brothers had decided that she and her team weren’t up to the task. So much so that they had planted a UC to get at the real truth, the facts the tribal police weren’t capable of finding. That aggravating realization kept Sam from reaching in her pocket throughout the day to reread Jake’s tender n
ote. In fact, as the day went by, she’d decided that when she returned home she’d destroy the note without reading it again.
Hours later, Sam gave in to the fact that her aching head and gnawing gut were making it impossible to work. While the thought of food was nauseating, a hefty glass of Jameson on her deck was an appealing thought. She was about to close up shop and head for her deck when her phone buzzed. Seeing Jake’s name on the caller ID, she hesitated, then let the call go to voicemail. She waited a long moment but couldn’t resist listening to the message. The sound of his compelling voice sent tingling shivers across her thighs.
“Good afternoon, Sam, although it’s damn close to being evening. I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner. It’s been a hell of a day. Call me when you get this. I want, make that I need to see you.”
Sam debated, then decided not to call him. It was too much. She was too conflicted to talk to him much less see him. Remembering the Jameson in her bottom drawer, she decided she didn’t need to go home to quiet her frazzled spirit. She could do that right here. She’d almost finished her drink when her phone buzzed. Again, she didn’t answer. This time, his message was decidedly less cordial.
“Hmm, if I were a suspicious man, I might think that you usually don’t let two calls go to voicemail without returning the call. Particularly since the last time you were with the caller, you were stark naked. Granted, you were wearing a blindfold, so maybe you didn’t have a chance to see what I saw, which was the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” His voice dropped lower. It had a distinctive edge. “Just so you understand, Sam. You are sadly mistaken, if you think we’re not going to discuss what we did last night. Call me. And, Sam? That’s not a request.”