Duncan stared at her for a second. Was she kidding? Judging from the downcast eyes, she wasn’t. “Jess, you were incredible.” He tilted her head up by the chin to make her look at him. She stared back at him with wide, hopeful eyes. Earnestly, he said, “Honestly, I thought I was having an epileptic fit there at the end, I swear you were great. We were great. Weren’t we?” He was pretty sure she’d enjoyed herself, but his own orgasm had been so intense maybe he’d been mistaken. He desperately needed to hear that she’d loved it as much as he did. Not because his ego demanded, but because he wanted to desperately to please her. It wasn’t much, but maybe he could build a relationship starting from there.
Jessie rolled her eyes and pushed one hand against his warm, brown chest. “Oh, C’mon. You must know. I’m not stroking your ego here by telling you how you made my eyes roll back in my head.”
He grabbed her by the waist and dragged her squealing against him. “Stroke it, stroke my ego,” he said, tickling her ribs. “Just a little. I won’t stop until you give me some stroke.”
Jessie struggled valiantly, laughing against his chest. He shifted on top of her and held her arms above her head with one hand, so he could tickle her mercilessly with the other. “NO!” She said firmly, smiling up at him. “You’ll have to stroke yourself, I’m afraid.”
Duncan looked down at her laughing face and felt something tender well up in him. Something he’d thought long dead. She was so pretty, so sweet and so goddamn sexy, he just wanted to keep her prisoner here. He wanted her laughter and her cries of excitement to echo off these walls forever. The only question was: what did she want?
Duncan stopped tickling her and stared into her large, cinnamon eyes. He let her arms loose and brushed his fingers down her sensitive inner arms to her bruised throat while he tried summon up his courage. Her laughter faded to a gentle smile as she looked up at him. He seemed very serious suddenly. She looped her arms loosely around his neck and waited for him to say what he was thinking.
“Jess,” he said slowly, watching her face for any shift in expression. “I know you got into this with me because of the whole virginity thing. But what happens now? I mean, is that it? Are we done?” He looked at her intensely, unaware that he was holding his breath in anticipation of her answer.
Jessie was totally unprepared. She thought men instantly fell asleep after sex, and she’d planned to make her escape while he snoozed—peaceful and oblivious. She should have known that none of the stereotypes applied to Duncan. He actually wanted to discuss their relationship after sex. Wasn’t that the woman’s traditional role? He kept surprising her. Maybe she should stop making assumptions about him. They always seemed to be wrong.
She wanted to say something casually dismissive and pretend that he meant nothing to her. That would be the smart thing to do. Just exit gracefully and forget about him. But her body, and more importantly, her heart, cried out at the prospect of never seeing or experiencing that ecstasy and intimacy with him again. She couldn’t leave him, even though she knew it was the right thing to do if she wanted to avoid getting crushed.
She really didn’t know what to say. She wouldn’t until she had some time alone to think, without his body and his scent driving her crazy. But right now she could tell by the expectant look on his face that he wouldn’t be easily dissuaded from his conversational path. Fortunately, she knew his Achilles Heel. It was there, prodding against her stomach insistently.
“Funny.” She said, looking up at him innocently as she arched her back to brush her hard nipples against his chest. “It doesn’t feel as though we’re done here at all, does it?” She pulled insistently on his neck until she could reach his lips. She softly bit his full lower lip and then soothed it with her tongue.
“Jessie. You’re not answering me,” he said, trying to sound firm while she ran her small, soft hands down his back.
“No, I’m not,” she said, gazing up at him seriously for a moment. She just couldn’t use sex to manipulate him. It wasn’t in her nature. It was better to be honest. “But I will. Just not now. This is all so new to me. I can’t think now. I just want to feel. Is that okay?”
Duncan was torn. Should he pursue some kind of definition of their relationship or just be happy she wanted to continue a indulging in some sexual exploration with him? She was so fine—so everything he was looking for even though he hadn’t actually been looking for anything. She’d just come out of nowhere. Blitzed him into feeling something again. He didn’t want to force the issue and risk alienating her. He’d let it go—for now. He trailed his hand down her body until he was cupping her between her legs. “But aren’t you sore?” He asked, not sure what he wanted her answer to be.
Instead of answering she echoed his gesture by smoothing her hand down his chest to his hard phallus and gently squeezed the tip. “I want you. That’s all I know right now.”
Duncan leaned down to press a playful smack on her lips. “OK, but I’m exhausted. You’re going to do all the work, especially since I’m feeling a bit unappreciated right now.” He chuckled at her puzzled look. “I mean it, it’s your turn to make love to me.” He rolled until she was lying on top of him, her breasts resting firmly on his chest.
He trailed his hands down her smooth, supple back to her bottom. Oh, God, how he loved the feel of those firm, high globes against his palms. He squeezed and she shifted against him, her damp pubic hair teasing his erection. He caught his breath in response. How he’d dreamed of having her just like this over the past two days. Now that it was actually happening, he didn’t want it to end. He would make love to her all night, until she realized how good it was between them. Then, tomorrow when he asked her what she wanted from him again, she wouldn’t have any choice but to admit she wanted more. He didn’t know how else to make her care for him.
Jessie was mesmerized by the look on Duncan’s face. There was desire there in his eyes, but there was also something more. He looked sublimely happy—like he’d just invented calorie-free chocolate or something equally stupendous. She wondered if her expression mirrored his. She was smiling like a goon, she knew that, but his expression was content and joyful. He didn’t seem to be plagued by the doubts and insecurities that were causing her so much distress. It almost hurt to look at him, he was so beautiful in his happiness.
Jessie propped herself up on his chest with one arm and traced his face with her fingertips. He really was beautiful. Not just the dazzling eyes, his entire countenance was arresting. The high cheekbones combined with the full sensual mouth and strong chin made him look like a darkly seductive angel. She couldn’t believe she was lying here so casually with someone so attractive. “Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are?” She asked, touching his lips gently. He nipped at them and raised his hands to brush her hair back from her brow.
“Oh. Now the ego stroking begins.” Duncan rolled his eyes and gently swatted her bottom. She responded with a squeal and tweak of his chest hair. Rubbing at the offended area, he looked up at her defiantly. “Too late, lady. You’re in the driver’s seat this time around.”
“I mean it. You’re gorgeous. I’m not just stroking your huge, inflated ego.”
Duncan was embarrassed by the course of the conversation. Of course he was thrilled that she liked the way he looked, but gorgeous was a bit much. It sounded too close to pretty for his liking and he thought he was much too scarred and rugged for that description. She was gorgeous, not him. He quickly changed the subject. “It’s not my ego that’s huge and inflated right now,” he said with a wiggle of his eyebrows and a flex of his hips.
Jessie sighed at the sensation of him undulating against her. Wanting to feel more of him, she shifted until she was sitting astride his slim hips. He gasped as she lined up their bodies until his penis was sandwiched between his hard abdomen and her soft, moist mound. Slowly at first, she slid herself against his erection. Balancing herself on her hands against his smooth chest she began experimentally shifting up and down against his
shaft, gradually increasing her pace until she was panting with exertion.
Duncan had been watching her face in wonder. She seemed to be on the edge of orgasm just from rubbing against him. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was soft and open in concentration. She was so beautiful in her passion. So responsive, he feared he would lose control before he entered her. He tightened his hands on her curvy hips to still her movement.
Jessie stopped her undulations long enough to ask. “You don’t like this?” She asked, disappointed. Who knew such pleasure could be induced so easily. They didn’t even need a condom for this.
“I love it,” he said, pulling her down for a long kiss. He released her and looked up at her intently while running his hand up her thighs until he reached the silky curls at the apex of her legs. He parted her gently and touched the aching bud there with one slick thumb. “But I need to be inside of you. I want to watch you ride me.”
“Oh.” She said, her eyes hot and fevered with her need to climax. Strange how his words affected her—riding him was suddenly exactly what she wanted to do. Just the thought of his hard flesh buried deeply inside of her again sent waves of sensation through her aroused flesh.
Duncan placed his hands on her waist and lifted her slightly until she was posed above him. Reaching into the night table he brought out another condom and handed it to her. With his guidance, she was able to smooth it down his shaft. Looking pleased, she watched him expectantly, as if asking ‘what next?’
“Put me inside you, Jess. I can’t wait anymore,” he rasped, stroking her hips to encourage her. Instead, Jessie touched him, stroked him until he was mindless. “Please,” he said through gritted teeth.
She grasped him by the base of his penis and raised the head until it brushed her damp outer lips. Very gradually, she lowered herself until she was impaled on him. She felt powerful in this position, very sexy and provocative. It was an exciting sensation being in control of all that barely constrained strength. He could so easily take control, but he didn’t. He was completely still. She could tell from the strained expression on his face that he was fighting the need to pump and grind that was welling up within him. She wanted him to unleash all that passion, but first she wanted to experiment with her new dominant role.
“Like this?” She asked, looking down at him intently as she slowly raised herself until he was posed on the brink of her again.
“Yes, just like that,” he choked out, pressing gently down on her hips to make her enfold him again. He shifted his hips upward to meet her thrust and sighed with pleasure at being buried so deeply within her.
Staying perfectly still with him filling her so sweetly was like torture. Jessie wanted to gyrate against him wildly, buck and grind until she was sated, but that would end things too quickly, so instead she moved slowly, dragging her body upward by tiny increments, maximizing the friction and building up the anticipation.
“Oh God. Jess. That’s so good.” Duncan said, his voice husky and strained as he swiveled his hips in a small circle that made Jessie groan and grind down on him until he felt like he was going to die from the pleasure.
Experimentation forgotten, Jessie began moving faster, up and down while tightening her inner muscles on his hard shaft. Her breasts bobbed in front of Duncan’s mouth and he abandoned her hips to grasp those pink-tipped mounds, kneading them in rhythm with her escalating hips.
He thrust up into her, his hips leaving the bed in his urgency. He could feel himself about to lose control, so he whispered husky encouragement to her using coarse, shocking language to tell her exactly what he wanted from her. His hands tightened convulsively on her hips as he gave one final deep thrust and groaned her name.
Her scream was loud in the quiet bedroom when she finally exploded around him. She slumped forward, breathing heavily against his neck. Her hair sticking to her face and chest as she gasped, “Oh my God. I can’t believe how great that was. Remind me to never stroke your ego ever again.”
He laughed into her hair and smoothed his hands down her slick back, sated, deliriously happy, but also terrified of losing her when the sun came up.
Chapter 21
According to the read-out on the digital clock, it was just after one o-clock in the morning. Duncan couldn’t sleep. Didn’t want to sleep. Sleeping meant wasting valuable time with Jessie. She was spooned against him, breathing softly; her riot of hair spread over the pillow and her buttocks nestled tightly against his groin. Despite the fact that they’d made love twice more before she’d collapsed exhausted onto his pillows, he was aching and hard with desire for her. He didn’t seem to be able to get enough. It was so tempting to wake her, but he didn’t. She’d had an exciting day and needed her rest. Instead of ravishing her, as he so desperately wanted, he propped himself up on one elbow and watched her in the pale moonlight.
Somehow the heavy black comforter had ended up on the floor, but the crisp, white cotton sheet was thrown over both of them. The skylight over the bed and the coverless windows provided enough illumination for him to be able to make out her long, dark eyelashes resting against her cheeks and her sweet rosebud mouth. Unable to resist, he pulled the sheet down to her luscious hips to expose her breasts.
She did not wake but moved restlessly in her sleep as he cupped one full mound with a dark hand, watching the dusky nipple come to life. He leaned down to kiss her shoulder as he gently tugged on that tight bud. She sighed and he seriously thought about sliding into her from behind, and waking her with a powerful orgasm.
He was just about to do just that when he heard something. Not a loud sound, or even an unusual one, but still it seemed out of place. It was the furtive tap of shoes on ceramic tile. Duncan stopped touching Jessie and became very still, listening for that sound to occur again.
Theresa had come home around eight, armed with bags of clothes and books for her, a chew toy for Hannibal, and a comic book for Duncan. He’d left Jessie alone in the bedroom long enough to inspect Theresa’s purchases and had momentarily choked up when his sister had shyly handed him the latest issue of Superman. He hadn’t collected them in years, but it was rather sweet that she’d actually remembered that he’d had an extensive collection as a teenager.
When Duncan awkwardly tried to explain why Jessie was still there, especially in his bed, Theresa didn’t seem even slightly surprised or concerned; despite the presence of a currently unoccupied third bedroom with a pullout couch down the hall. She’d just looked at Duncan’s hastily donned, inside-out shirt, and hopelessly mussed hair and smiled knowingly as she collected her packages and withdrew to her room, claiming exhaustion.
Some God-awful music came thumping through the walls a few seconds later, courteously blocking out any of the sounds that might emanate from Duncan’s room on the other side of the hallway. Obviously, he’d worried needlessly about preserving his sister’s innocence. Best of all, she seemed happy that he had someone.
This noise, the one that had made him pause in his exploration of Jessie’s body didn’t sound like Theresa. She wasn’t capable of moving so furtively. She was inherently noisy in everything she did. Duncan knew it wasn’t Hannibal either. He’d seen the dog an hour ago, stretched out on the daybed in Theresa’s room, obliviously snoring away with his paws twitching as he chased the Siamese cat next door in his dreams.
No, it wasn’t the dog or Theresa. Someone else was in the apartment. Instantly, he thought of Diego. Was that asshole actually bold enough or stupid enough to come here? To his home? And how would he have found out where Theresa was anyway? It didn’t matter. All Duncan could think about was protecting his women. Something he’d failed to do that morning, he thought, looking down at Jessie.
Breath held, he eased away from Jessie and covered her back up with the sheet. She didn’t move a muscle and her breathing remained undisturbed. He exhaled in relief as he carefully got up off the bed and slid his jeans back on.
There, he heard it again. Whoever was out there was moving across the ca
rpet toward the bedrooms. From the front foyer, there was an alcove to the left with a short hallway with four doors. Duncan’s bedroom was the first on the right, the main bathroom across the hallway on the left with Theresa’s room and the small third bedroom beyond.
Duncan could hear the swish of fabric and wondered if Diego was wearing a long coat. Soundlessly, Duncan moved toward his closet where he kept his gun, high on a shelf. Glad he’d left the closet door open, he reached for it, and was rewarded by the feel of cold metal against his fingertips. He brought it down, and cocked it as quietly as possible, his eyes on the bedroom door. Was it just his imagination or was the doorknob on the left turning? It was impossible to tell in the dim light.
The door made a faint creak as it was quietly pulled open several inches and Duncan used the sound to cover his progress. He wanted to be between Jessie and the intruder.
It was darker in the hallway, but Duncan could see a much denser silhouette of someone standing in the doorway. At first it was just the rounded outline of a head, but shoulders and long, dark hair quickly became apparent. As the shadow eased into the room, Duncan stepped forward and pressed his gun to the temple of the intruder. It took him a moment to realize that Diego’s head was much lower than it should be. He’d only seen Diego sitting on a bar stool, but both Theresa and Jessie had said Diego was over six feet tall. This shadow couldn’t be much taller than Jessie. Duncan left the gun where it was, pressed tightly to the intruder’s temple, but pulled the man forward, so he could see him more clearly.
It wasn’t Diego as he’d expected. It was much, much worse. “Kerry,” he whispered in disbelief, dropping the gun to his side bonelessly.
It was his wife, back after three years in Europe. She didn’t look happy. In fact, she looked downright enraged that he’d dared to assault her with a gun. Her dark eyes were snapping with indignation and she was staring down her nose at him like he’d started eating filet mignon with his hands. It was a familiar look, one she’d perfected over seven years of living in the same house, if not together.
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