He withdrew his fingers and skimmed a wet trail up her stomach, over her ribs and the swell of her breasts. Unbearable tension stretched her nerves and she whimpered her frustration at being left unfulfilled.
Jason peeled back her bra and exposed her breasts to the cool air and his practiced touch. He rubbed and pinched the sensitive little buds, sending an upsurge of violent waves through her. His mouth traced the contour of her shoulder, neck and jaw line.
She found the bright orbs of his eyes as his fingers tangled in the mass of her hair. He leaned toward her and engulfed her mouth in a hungry kiss. She arched her back, shamelessly pressing her breast into his hand. The grip on her wrists loosened and his body softened against hers.
His hands moved down the length of her back, squeezing her waist before lowering to cup her bottom. He spread her open and eased inside her, stretching her with the hard tip of his penis. She broke free of his mouth to gasp. Jess reached behind her and dug her nails into his well-toned hips, tensing involuntary against him. A small amount of fear had seeped within her hazy mind. Fear of losing herself in her arms. Fear of acknowledging the passionate woman who was so unfamiliar to her. Her heart beat faster. It wasn’t just sex he wanted. He wanted her. She’d never given her heart to anyone. She wasn’t capable of that level of intimacy, yet she’d already given him more of herself than she’d ever given Tom.
His arm slid about her waist and he held her close. He took her slowly, inching his length deep inside her. Intense pleasure burgeoned from their joined bodies and she cried his name. He tightened his grip on her, stilling her movements. His body shook with hers, and she could feel him struggle with his desire and his control.
“Tell me what you want, Jessica?” he murmured against her hair.
Her muscles cramped strongly about his penis. She could feel him pulse violently within her, still he refused to give her what he must know she craved. She teetered on the verge of release and tears of frustration welled in her eyes.
“Tell me,” he insisted. “Tell me what you want.”
She wanted to experience what she’d not experienced in six long years with Tom. She wanted the big “O”, but dare she tell him that? She shook her head. She couldn’t say the words. He was asking too much.
With a low growl Jason pulled from her heated entrance and spun her to face him. He brought his mouth fiercely down against the pulsing vein in her neck. Muscles taut, he wound his fingers through her hair and pulled her head roughly back to expose the vulnerable skin at the base of her throat. His mouth assaulted her again inching lower to her aching breasts. His tongue circled the swell of her nipple. He drew the turgid peak into the heat of his mouth and without warning bit relentlessly into the protuberant flesh. Jess cried out. Pain, both sweet and brutal, shot through her, pooling in the distended flesh pulsing with tormenting heat between her thighs.
He whispered against her skin. “Tell me what you need, Jessica.”
His mouth relaxed and his lips gently suckled the throbbing tip. She squirmed, grasping the back of neck in silent ecstasy. He lifted her and carried her to the large Japanese-style bed in the center of the room, laying her down on the soft sheets. Her head was on his pillows and her eyes watched him as he slowly moved to cover her body with his own.
He kissed the soft part of her belly and moved his lips lower to the apex of her thighs. She pushed her hips upward and spread her legs. His firm hands held onto her thighs and the hot moisture of his tongue caressed her with eager insistence through the thin lace. Every precise movement of his mouth sent more hot wetness to this part her that had never felt so alive before.
His mouth never left her skin as he trailed wet kisses up her body and captured her lips with his. Jess moaned at the sweet, tangy taste of her juices on his tongue. She curled her arms and legs around him, crossing her ankles against his lower back to draw him tighter to her.
His breathing came hard and harsh as his penis found her opening.
“Look at me, Jessica.”
She opened her eyes, her lids heavy with desire. Jason lowered his head and nipped at her bottom lip before taking it into his mouth and gently sucking on it. He repeated it with her top lip. Her lips parted and his tongue darted inside for her to taste herself again. He deepened the kiss, his guttural moans intermingling with her soft sob of pleasure. He tasted so good, felt so good. Her hips moved beneath him, rising up to meet his downward thrust.
With one roll of his hips he penetrated the tight folds of her silky flesh. A wave of ecstasy rippled through her and another and another as he pushed deeper, stretching and filling her with his entirety. Her slick passage gripped him as she found his rhythm. There was no more time to think. She couldn’t anyhow.
She closed her eyes and ground her hips against him. Her breasts tightened with the delirious torment consuming her. He thrust deeper, curving an arm about her waist and holding her against him as he conquered her in a way no man had ever done before.
He stiffened, muscles tensing, his mouth clamping down on hers as he erupted with barely contained ferocity inside her and pushed them both over the edge. The final fiery current swept through Jess, leaving her powerless in Jason’s arms and her body euphoric in its startlingly absolute surrender.
* * * *
Jason watched her stir next to him, her skin radiant in the moonlight filtering through the window. If anyone told him a week ago he’d be married, have a son and be totally enamored by his wife he would’ve laughed. He would’ve placed a bet on it, in fact, because the chance would’ve been nil to none. But he’d not counted on meeting Jessica.
His eyes followed the graceful incline of her thighs to the exposed smooth curve of hip that narrowed fluidly and dipped to a slender and taut waistline.
The dark blue satin sheet was draped seductively across the flawless flesh of her stomach, and he drew deeply as his gaze swept her partially covered breasts. He wanted her again, to hear her sob with pleasure and feel her tremble against him. To know she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
He steeled himself against the overwhelming desire to touch her and kiss her parted lips. His father was behind Tom’s death. He was tying up loose ends, reminding him he could get to Jessica whenever and wherever he wanted. His marriage to her had indeed prompted the desired effect. It’d forced his father’s hand, yet he wasn’t wholly prepared for the consequences. And then there was Detective Inspector Drew Mahon’s dogged determination to see him behind bars for literally just being his father’s son.
He reached to brush away the silky errant strand covering Jess’ face. Her eyes opened directly into his.
“You’re here. I was afraid I’d dreamed this.”
He dipped his head and brushed his lips lightly across hers. “It was no dream. I’m here.”
She touched the frown line between his brows. “What’s the matter?”
His fingers gently skimmed the smooth contour of a partially exposed breast. “There’s something I need to tell you, Jessica, about me. About my father.”
“Can’t it wait?”
“No.”
She shook her head, placing her fingers against his lips. “Give me this night, for us. Please.” She smiled sadly. “Let me hate you tomorrow if I must.”
“I want you to know it was never my intention to hurt you, Jessica.”
“I know,” she whispered. Her eyes shone bright with her tears. “But you’re going to do it anyway and destroy us when we’ve only just begun. I thought tonight meant something to you.”
“It does. You know it does.”
Jess turned from him. “Couldn’t you have grown a conscience before we had sex?”
He gently drew her back to face him. “We didn’t have sex. We made love.”
“Is there a difference then?”
“Yes,” he said pushing a knee between hers. “Someday I’ll show you the difference.”
He kissed her and pulled her close as he felt her fear and tasted her tears. “I’ll
move heaven and earth to make it right again between us.”
“And if you can’t?”
“I just want you to give me the chance, Jessica. Promise me.” She nodded. “No. Say it. I want to hear you say it.”
“I promise,” she said, parting her thighs and welcoming him into the moist warmth of her body with the fierceness of his own possession.
Chapter Seven
Drew Mahon took another sip of coffee and turned his thoughts to Hilda, the McCormack’s housekeeper. His efforts to engage her in conversation had failed miserably. She’d ignored his subtle attempts to gain information about Jessica McCormack and in the end he’d had to conclude Hilda was either very loyal to her employers or decidedly unaffected by his charm.
He walked the length of the reception room past the elegant bookcases and portraits of God-knew-who hanging on the walls in between. The door swung open. He spun toward it as Jessica McCormack stepped into the room.
“Detective Inspector Mahon,” she said, extending a hand. “Have you been waiting long?”
Drew set his mug down on a nearby table and hurried toward her. He returned her smile and took her cold hand in his.
“Yes,” he replied, although without rancor. “But, I was early.”
He held her hand a trifle longer than was necessary. Her smile subsided and her oval eyes rounded in mild surprise.
“You look rested,” he said. “I’m glad. I admit I was a little concerned about you last night.”
“Concerned? Why?”
“Seeing a dead body is not easy for anyone, Mrs. McCormack, especially if it’s someone you know. You were rather distraught.” He eyed her candidly. “You’ve recovered well.”
Jess averted her gaze and pulled her hand free of his. She smoothed her hands down the front of her skirt and moved to sit in a chair near the fire, tugging at the turtleneck sweater she wore.
“Please, sit down, Detective Inspector,” she invited. “Will this take long?”
“It shouldn’t. I just need to clarify a few points, Mrs. McCormack.”
He took a seat opposite hers, fished a small notebook from the pocket of his coat and an even smaller pencil from within its pages.
Drew had expected Jason to join them. “Isn’t your husband at home?”
“No. He left early this morning for a meeting.”
“A meeting? On a Sunday? Must be important. Do you know who your husband’s meeting this morning?”
Jess clasped her hands tightly on her lap. “No, I don’t. But since you’re working as
well, I guess it can’t be that much of an anomaly.”
Drew smiled. “Touché, Mrs. McCormack.”
He noticed her curious glance at his note pad and pencil. “Still the cheapest way,” he said. “And simple to use.”
“Yes, I guess you have a p-point.”
His eyes captured hers, unwavering and bold. Her cheeks flushed beneath her gaze. “What kind of work do you do, Mrs. McCormack?”
“Mostly freelance w-work. But I s-studied journalism.”
Last night he hadn’t noticed her mild speech impediment. Still, if she lied he would know it. He pursed his lips. The niceties were over.
“What was the relationship between you and the deceased, Tom Addison?”
“Tom was my ex-husband.”
Drew looked at her for the longest time. The feeling in his gut that had told him there was more to Tom Addison’s death than an apparent robbery homicide suddenly intensified.
Tom Addison worked for Alexander McCormack That much he knew. But the fact Tom’s ex-wife was now married to Alexander’s son prickled his instincts even more. It was apparent the woman sitting opposite him had no idea of the kind of family she’d married into. He wouldn’t tell her about the McCormacks—at least not yet—but he definitely needed to revise his line of questioning.
“Why did you go to meet your ex-husband, Mrs. McCormack?”
“I’d re-married and I thought he deserved to know. For the sake of our son.”
“Didn’t you invite him to the wedding?”
Jess took a deep breath and looked at her hands. “The wedding was rather sudden. Besides, I doubted Tom would’ve come.”
“Why not?”
“We were divorced a little more than six months ago. It was amicable enough, but Tom still had a hard time accepting it.”
“And you married again, so quickly?”
Jess raised her head sharply, although her eyes didn’t quite meet his.
“I fell in love, Detective Inspector. There isn’t a designated time frame as far as I’m aware and the last time I checked it wasn’t a crime.”
“No, it isn’t. But it’s a crime to withhold information, Mrs. McCormack.”
“You think I’m withholding information. About what?”
“Your husband.”
Jess shifted uneasily. “Why on earth would you think that?”
Drew leaned forward. “I know Jason McCormack. I know the type of man that he is. I don’t want to see you get hurt. If there’s something you want to tell me about last night, about Tom Addison’s death, now is the time.”
“There’s nothing I can tell you, Detective Inspector. As I said, I wanted to meet with Tom.”
Drew raised a doubtful brow. “At Marmaduke’s?”
“The choice of venue was Tom’s.”
“Why didn’t your husband accompany you? Marmaduke’s is hardly the kind of place for a woman to venture to alone.”
“I—he—Jason didn’t know I was meeting Tom.”
“Are you quite sure about that, Mrs. McCormack? Your husband is a dangerous man, but I suspect you already know that. Your ex-husband is dead, and I think you know who killed him.”
“That’s a lot of supposition, Detective Inspector, but I know Jason. He has nothing to do with Tom’s death. He wouldn’t—”
“Search deep down in your heart and tell me I’m wrong.” When she hesitated, Drew continued. “I’m not an alarmist, but I believe in knowing all the facts.”
“The facts about what?” Jess queried faintly.
“The family you chose to marry into.”
“And you think I don’t have all the facts?”
Drew didn’t like coincidences and to find Tom Addison was once married to the woman before him niggled at him, especially since she was married to a man whose father was being investigated for Sean Wright’s murder. There was a connection here, somewhere. But would he find it?
“I know you don’t, Mrs. McCormack. Fact one—Your father-in-law is Alexander McCormack. He wouldn’t hesitate to kill anyone who stands in his way, but he’s clever enough to never get his own hands dirty. Your own death will come as a surprise because up until the very last moment your killer is your best friend or your lover with whom you feel safe enough to trust with your life, or perhaps that of your son?”
Jess jumped to her feet, her eyes shining with anger. “Stop it! Why are you telling me this?”
Drew slowly stood. He’d wanted to frighten her—frighten her into leaving this house. Jessica McCormack was a very beautiful woman and if he was learning anything about Alexander McCormack it was fact two that bothered him most. Alexander McCormack would never see past the color of her skin to accept her in any which way. So, why in hell would she go and marry his son?
Drew lowered his eyes to Jess. “We already know Alexander McCormack was involved in the death of a former associate. His name was Sean Wright. He came to see Jason February twenty-first. That was four days after he’d been arrested, questioned and released. Three days later, Mrs. McCormack, he’s found dead.”
Drew stepped closer and inhaled the fresh scent of wild berries that surrounded her. He couldn't allow anyone this innocent to be corrupted by Jason McCormack.
“There’s not much time, Mrs. McCormack. Do you think a man like Jason has a choice in how he lives?”
“I resent your implication, Detective Inspector. Jason—”
“Is nothing if
not his father’s son,” Drew replied dryly. “You wouldn’t be the first woman to die at the hands of a man she was sure loved her.”
“I won’t listen to anymore of this. Hilda will show you out.”
“Are you so in love, Mrs. McCormack, that you can’t see the danger you’re in, can’t see the danger you’ve put your son in?”
Her eyes glittered with latent anger. “Good day, Detective Inspector!”
Jess stalked to the window overlooking the landscaped garden. Drew quickly jotted down his telephone number. He grabbed her unwilling hand and put the piece of paper in it.
“Call me,” he said. His eyes were insistent and his voice held a warning. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but your husband is not the man you think he is, Mrs. McCormack. Trust me.”
She tugged her hand free and he followed her escaping steps to the door. She ignored him and half-walked, half ran across the expansive foyer and then up the sweeping stairs. Drew waited a few moments until he heard a door slam shut.
He was a jerk, but it’d been his intention to plant a seed of doubt in her head, to unsettle her and force her to think. To force her to leave Jason McCormack before it was too late. He slammed a fist against the doorjamb. The simple, routine intelligence report on Alexander McCormack was proving to be anything but routine and far from simple.
* * * *
A wave of guilt swept through Jess. She’d awoke this morning with thoughts of Jason on her mind. It should’ve been thoughts of Tom keeping her awake last night and consuming her now. She’d lied to Detective Inspector Mahon and withheld information about her ex-husband. Tom had come to Madeley, had spoken to Jason—and now he was dead. Did Jason kill Tom? Was the son as the father? She didn’t know, but wittingly or not Detective Inspector Mahon was forcing her to find out.
She’d been a fool. She’d dared reach out to take what she wanted and now it was being ripped from her fingers. What happened between them had happened because she wanted it to. She couldn’t blame anyone else for her naivety.
She touched hesitant fingers to her turtleneck sweater pulled high under her chin. Jason had been willing to confide in her, only, she hadn’t wanted to listen. He’d marked her—claimed her as his—as she had claimed him. She’d lain in his arms, trusting him and begging him when the time was right to make her understand, to make her listen. He’d turned her emotions inside out and stripped her bare. How could she, responsible, careful Jess, have let this happened?
Blood of His Fathers (Sinners and Saints) Page 9