As soon as the door lock flashed green, he propelled her into the room and slammed the door shut. He flung his jacket on the floor and shoved her against the wall. “Those jeans drive me crazy,” he growled, sliding his hands hungrily all over her hips.
“They’re too small,” she said shakily. “They shrank in the wash.”
“They’re perfect,” he insisted. He wrenched open the buttons of her jeans and fell to his knees, dragging them down around her ankles.
She clutched his shoulders for balance, staring down at his dark head, his thick hair straggling wildly out of its elastic band. He pressed his face against her mound, breathing in her fragrance with deep, hungry breaths, and put his hand between her legs, forcing them apart. He leaned forward and thrust his tongue into her cleft, swirling it tenderly around and around the flushed delicate bud of her clitoris, sucking on it with slow, devastating skill until her knees sagged and she started to slide down the wall. He reached up his arms to brace her, and his tongue plunged deeper, lapping up the heated juices that pooled between her legs. “Jacob, you’re obsessed,” she gasped.
His teeth flashed in a swift, feral grin. “Yeah,” he agreed, prying off her shoes. He yanked her jeans off her ankles. She heard the sound of ripping fabric and her panties sailed after them. She backed away, unbuttoning her blouse as he stripped off his clothes; with that wild look in his eyes, it was clearly up to her to salvage what was left of her wardrobe. He seized her and bore her down beneath him onto the bed, his hands everywhere, as if he were trying to learn her by heart.
Her body clenched. He was too heavy and hot and desperate, and she was jittery and wild, her nerves on edge. “No,” she protested, pushing at him, but it was like pushing a mountain.
“What?” His chest was heaving, but he froze in place, waiting.
“It’s too much,” she said shakily. “It’s freaking me out. I need you to be—” She searched for words, but they eluded her.
“What?” His voice was a grating rasp of frustration.
“I don’t know. Slower. Softer. You’re scaring me.”
He rolled off her onto his back, still panting, and clapped his hand over his eyes. “Shit. Shit,” he said, his voice furious.
His long, muscular frame vibrated with tension, his furiously erect crimson penis rose stiffly all the way to his navel. A tangle of conflicting emotions bewildered her: fear at his raw hunger barely held in check, pity for his evident distress, all mixed with a secret female satisfaction at her own power that she could drive him to such a state. She edged closer to him. “I didn’t say you had to stop completely,” she said. “I just wanted you to calm down a little.” She petted the hair that lay flat and silky against his hard belly, leaned down and gently swirled her tongue around the swollen head of his penis.
He jerked up onto his elbows with a muttered curse. “God, Annie,” he groaned. “This is supposed to calm me down?”
She cradled his balls tenderly in her hand, licking him from the base to the tip of his shaft with one long, wet, luxurious swipe of her tongue. “Do you like that?”
“Don’t ask stupid questions,” he said furiously. “I’m not in control of myself. Bear that in mind if you provoke me.”
The low tremor in his voice made her want to soothe him. She crawled on top of him impulsively and pressed her mouth to his in a soft, yielding kiss. “That’s just a risk I’m going to have to take,” she said. “I trust you, remember?”
His eyes never left hers as he groped on the floor for his jeans. He ripped open the condom and smoothed it swiftly over himself. “Maybe you shouldn’t,” he said. “Roll over.”
She stared at him blankly. He made an impatient sound, and flipped her over himself, and she found herself suddenly on her stomach, the mattress bouncing beneath her as he splayed his hands over her backside and pressed her down onto the bed. He kissed and tongued the little twin dimples at the base of her spine, and his strong hands shoved her thighs wide open.
She pressed her face into the rumpled sheets, lifting herself for him in a fevered agony of anticipation, far beyond any teasing or game playing. He thrust his fingers inside her, spreading her silky juices all around until she was slippery and soft and ready. She let out a low moan as his penis slid slowly into her tight sheath, stretching her wide. She was sore and oversensitive from the last night’s endless hours of intense lovemaking, but too aroused to care. She arched her backside up to him in eager, silent invitation.
He drove himself all the way inside her with a hoarse shout, crushing her onto the bed with his big, hot body and claiming her completely, and she finally began to understand what his harsh warning had meant.
She clutched handfuls of the sheet, trembling in confusion. Panic was mixing crazily with excitement as he drove his thick shaft in and out of her in a deep, savage rhythm that bordered on violence; but she knew instinctively that he was too skillful a lover to hurt her. It was his very skill that was so dangerous, his intense, seductive power that battered down her defenses, demanding that she yield herself up. She could lose herself to him, and be utterly possessed.
Their struggle took place on a plane of consciousness she had never known existed, with a clashing explosion of energy that shook her mind, scorched her body, turned her inside out. She yelled at him in raw, incoherent anger, thrashing beneath the plunging, rhythmic invasion of his body, but her struggles only inflamed them both further. He would not be denied; she felt it in the way he held her, the way he arched his long, powerful body over hers and drove himself into her. The desperate tension in her muscles sharpened the edge of the climax bearing down on her to an unbearable pitch, wrenching a wailing cry of pleasure from her throat. She felt his triumph in every cell of her body as she convulsed around him.
He began again almost immediately, rolling her onto her side. He folded her leg up, toying mercilessly with her shivering, unresisting body, relishing the sight of her, heavy-eyed and flushed and panting.
Then he mounted her again, his passionate desire unabated. Annie’s body responded helplessly, her sheath supple and slick as he took her from every angle, in every position. He moved and lifted and turned her to suit his pleasure as if she were a doll. He made her come again and again, with his hands and his mouth and his insatiable penis, but when he came close to his own orgasm he stopped, his body rigid. He held her crushed and breathless beneath him—and began again.
“Enough,” she begged him. “Please.”
“Not yet,” he said, his voice a harsh gasp. “I warned you, Annie.”
For this round, she was flat on her back, spread-eagled and writhing beneath his pumping body. She reached up and grabbed a handful of his hair, yanking down hard. He gasped, startled. “Damn it, Jacob,” she said furiously. “Are you doing this to punish me?”
“God, no.” He deftly unsnarled his hair from her fingers and pinned her hands behind her head. “I’m doing it because I love watching you come. I love when you clench up and squeeze my cock inside you, when you make those sexy sounds, when your face gets all rosy red. I just cannot… get… enough of it.” He punctuated each word with a sensual thrust. “Come with me now, Annie,” he urged. “Together. Right now. Let’s fly together.”
“No,” she whispered, shaking her head, sure that it was part of his sorcerous plan to bind her to him utterly. She thrashed on the rumpled bed as he thrust his tongue into her mouth and ground his hips against hers. He insisted, using the innate skill of his body, changing the angle so that his hard shaft stroked relentlessly against her most sensitive point. He demanded, compelled, dragged her inexorably over the brink with him, and they fell through dark and light together, fused into a single pulsing wave of rapture.
When she came back to herself, she was weeping. Jacob rolled onto his side and gathered her close. At first she just lay there sobbing in his arms, but as consciousness crept back, her anger slowly ignited. How dare he presume to comfort her when he was the arrogant bastard who had reduced her to this
ravished, unglued state. He was still inside her, wedged so deeply that she could feel his heartbeat pulsing against her womb. She lashed out at him, but he jerked away from the blow.
He swelled again to full arousal within her as she struggled, and she was suddenly exhausted. She went limp, sobs tearing at her chest. “Don’t, Jacob,” she whispered. “Leave me be. I can’t take any more.”
Jacob stared down at her, a tiny muscle pulsing in his jaw. His face convulsed, as if in pain, and he withdrew from her body. He sat on the edge of the bed and hunched over, putting his face in his hands. Annie curled up on the bed until the sobs subsided, and took deep, shuddering breaths, willing herself to calm down. Jacob’s muscular back was rigid and trembling. The room was utterly silent.
Jacob removed the condom without looking at her. He disposed of it and pulled on his jeans, his face an impenetrable mask. “Get dressed,” he said curtly. “We’re getting something to eat.”
Annie forced herself to sit up, draping her hair over her breasts, and watched him silently as he laced up his boots. “Would you bring me back a sandwich?” she asked, unable to control the tremor in her voice. “I’d like to take a bath.”
He frowned as he shrugged on his shirt, his face dubious.
“I could really use some privacy,” she said softly. “Please, Jacob.”
He walked slowly to the bed and pushed back the hair that veiled her face from him. He cradled her cheek and tilted her face up. “Do not leave this room,” he said slowly.
She shook her head.
He caressed her cheek with his fingertip, and stepped back, obviously reluctant. He plucked his wallet out of his jacket, and left.
And she could finally breathe.
Theoretically. If she breathed too deep, the tears would start again. If she held her breath, she would pass out. She compromised with short, strangled little gasps and stared at the horrendous motel art—some sort of obscenely bright-colored mallard duck. She put her hands over her eyes to block it out, and tried to pull herself together.
She had to grab onto the last, ragged, fluttering shred of her independent will and run, far and fast. She couldn’t let herself be taken over, swept away. For God’s sake, the man had just fucked her practically senseless, and she still wanted him. She doubled over with a strangled laugh and pressed her face against her knees.
After three short days with Jacob, the whole Philip story, which had seemed so apocalyptic, was blotted practically out of her mind. The memory now had a tinny sense of dis-tance, like a scary but more or less insignificant movie she had seen somewhere, a long time ago.
She dragged herself upright. Minutes were ticking away, and this might be her last chance. She had to haul ass or she would lose her nerve. One more assault on her defenses like the last one, and she would crumble—and become the body-and-soul property of a man about whom she knew practically nothing.
She had read somewhere that one of the quickest ways to make a person feel helpless was to take away their clothes. Conversely, putting them back on ought to give her a shot of instant backbone. She got up and rooted around in search of her underwear. She longed for a shower, but didn’t dare take the time. She found her panties, the crotch ripped out and hanging in pathetic shreds. Whatever. Going without underwear never killed a girl yet. She would find a K-Mart. Buy panties.
She yanked on her jeans, starting to shake. Half of her was terrified he would burst into the room, sandwich in hand, and bend her to his will again. The other half was silently begging him to get back quick, before she did something irreversible.
But he didn’t come back. And she knew what she had to do.
Her gaze swept the room. Mildred’s keys. Crucial detail. She pocketed them. Purse. Likewise. She grabbed it.
Then her eyes lit on Jacob’s jacket, and an idea sprang to her mind. She reached gingerly into the pocket and fished out the keys to his bike. She would hide them in the motel safe. Let him think she had taken them. It would give her the edge she needed without grounding him completely, or weighing on her conscience.
It was time to go, but her damned stupid leaden feet wouldn’t move. She grabbed the pen on the desk and scrawled on a sheet of motel stationery.
Jacob, I’m so sorry. I have to go because I need to…
She wadded it up and threw it into the trash basket, and grabbed another.
Jacob, I can’t let my life be taken over again…
She stopped, wadded, threw.
On the third sheet of paper, she watched, appalled, as her hand wrote,
I love you.
Tears started flooding down, and she flung the incriminating shred of paper at the trash basket, despising the little hiccupping sounds that were jerking out of her throat. She wrote
Sorry.
in a big childish scrawl, and laid it on the rumpled bed. On impulse, she dug into her purse and pulled out the sack of lucky dollars. She pulled one out and held the chilly coin until it had absorbed the heat of her hand, silently wishing him luck. All the luck and love in the world. She dropped it on top of the note, and fled.
She blew her nose repeatedly, practicing a cheerful expression in the elevator. She dinged the front desk bell until she got the attention of a plump blonde girl whose name tag read “Tammi.”
“Tammi, would you do me a favor? My boyfriend left the keys to his motorcycle in the room. He asked me to leave them in the motel safe if I had to go out. Would that be OK?”
Tammi looked doubtful. “Couldn’t you just leave ‘em in the room? I mean, it’s not like they’re jewels, right?”
Annie gave her a woman-to-woman smile. “It’s his beloved bike,” she confided. “You know how men are. He’s paranoid. Humor us.”
Tammi giggled. “I sure do know what you mean, ma’am.
I’ll just call the manager and have him put ‘em right in there for ya.“
“Thanks so much, Tammi,” Annie said, bolting out the door.
With the help of a couple of burly guys who were passing by, she got the motorcycle out of the truck, though it cost the two of them far more effort than it had cost Jacob to lift it by himself. She was wild-eyed, nervous, sure that he would appear at any moment. He didn’t.
She pulled onto the road, and all the accumulated tension from the past few days slammed down on her at once. She knew she shouldn’t drive while she was sobbing, her eyes constantly filling and refilling with tears, but she didn’t dare pull over to cry herself out. She just blinked hard, wiped her nose on her sleeve, and tried not to drive off the road.
* * *
Chapter Six
Contents - Prev
“For God’s sake, all I asked for was a turkey club, a burger, fries, a beer and a Coke. I didn’t order a six course meal,” Jacob barked to the Lone Star Steakhouse hostess. “It’s already been more than a half an hour!”
The hostess’s cherry-red mouth tightened. “It’ll be right out, sir.”
“That’s what you said the last four times,” he grumbled, sinking back down onto the bench. He was as agitated as hell, his boot pounding a staccato rhythm on the floor. He covered his eyes with his hand, horrified at himself. He had never tried to intimidate a woman with his size and strength before. He had never needed to, but the resistance he sensed in Annie goaded him to keep pushing her, to break down her defenses. He couldn’t seem to stop. It was like a bad dream. At this rate, he was going to end up in a padded cell.
He would bring back her lunch and throw himself on her mercy. Apologize for being such a controlling asshole. He couldn’t handle the stress of wondering if she would still be there every time he turned around. He might try asking nicely if she would please stay with him, instead of pounding his chest like a gorilla. If he knew she wouldn’t bolt, maybe he could calm down.
“Here’s your order, sir.”
He took the bag, muttering a distracted thanks, and burst through the restaurant doors. He started through the parking lot at a brisk walk, which quickly transformed into
a lope, then to a dead run. The more excess nervous energy he got rid of now, the better his chances of not fucking up with Annie.
The thought hit him just as he was shoving the key card into the back door of the motel. It froze him into place for a good fifteen seconds.
He shoved open the door and took the stairs. He needed at least four flights of stairs to process this revolutionary concept. Annie, cuddled up with him on his couch, watching videos and eating popcorn. He wondered if she would like how he had rebuilt his condo. Whatever. He could rebuild it to suit her if she didn’t. Annie in a beautiful evening gown, looking gorgeous on his arm at the annual New Year’s gala charity ball. Annie meeting his parents. That slowed him down for a moment. Dad was no problem; one look at those big gray eyes and the old man would be eating right out of her hand. Mama would be tougher, but Annie could win her over, he thought optimistically. He would just buy Annie a pastel linen suit and some little pearl earrings, and she could take care of the rest.
By the time he got to the top of the last flight of stairs, he was already planning the guest list. It was so simple, so obvious, so perfect. Why the hell hadn’t he thought of this before? He could have been in bed right now, cuddling his fascinating, sexy fiancee. He fished the key card out of his pocket, hoping she would still be in the tub.
He felt her absence like a blow when the door swung open. He forced himself to look around and check the bathroom, even though he knew it was too late. He looked out the front window. The motorcycle sat where her pickup had been. The bag of food fell to the floor.
He should have known better than to turn his back on her. Jacob grabbed the silver dollar off the bed and stared down at the single word scrawled across the sheet of motel stationery, clutching the coin so tightly that it bit into his palm. Then he spotted the crumpled sheet of paper on the floor, and lunged for it. He smoothed out the wrinkles and read “I love you.”
All Through the Night Page 33