Complicated Creatures: Part One

by Alexi Lawless

  She wound her arms around his neck, indulging in the sleek feel of his mouth, the tangle of tongues. Oh, but could this man kiss. Sam could feel her limbs grow languid, her body relaxing into him as she relinquished herself to the undercurrent that dragged her closer to him.

  “You make me feel edgeless,” she murmured into his mouth.

  “Likewise,” he whispered.

  “Being with you…” She slid her hands over the slopes of his shoulders, her legs riding up to hitch over his hips under the water. “Feels so easy, almost visceral,” she confessed.

  “And you don’t like it?” he asked, kissing the hollow of her throat.

  “I don’t like anything that feels involuntary,” she answered, leaning her head back to gaze at the stars over Chicago.

  Jack kissed a path down to her breastplate. “You aren’t feeling anything I’m not experiencing too, Samantha.” His hand slid up between her shoulder blades, drawing up the back of her neck and into her hair. He brought her face back down to his. “I missed you,” he whispered against her mouth. “Did you miss me?” he asked with a slow smile, the curve of his mouth sweet and indecent.

  Sam didn’t respond, and Jack’s arms tightened fractionally around her.

  “You have a tell too,” he whispered, watching her. “When you feel the most, you say the least,” he told her.

  Jack held her for long, quiet minutes, smoothly circling them round and round in the warm water, gentle drifts of steam rising around them in the dim light. She allowed her muscles to loosen in his arms, enjoying the rare sensation of being held in suspension.

  “I’ve barely slept all week,” he confessed. “And when I did, I kept dreaming you were there. I’d be holding you, touching you, and then I’d wake up and realize you were just a dream, a figment. But each time—it felt…” Jack took a quick breath, his eyes lowering to her mouth. “It felt like I’d been robbed of something.”

  “An orgasm perhaps?” she teased, running her fingers through the wet waves of his hair.

  He laughed softly. “That too.”

  “Tell me about your week,” she asked as he swirled them gently in the water, distracting him, distracting herself.

  “Mmmm,” he groaned, tucking his face into her neck. “Endless meetings on residential and commercial zoning, union contracts, rising prices on steel.” He punctuated each statement with a kiss to her neck. “Very little sleep and a lot of running and boxing to work out my…frustration.” He clasped her hips, hands sliding down to her bottom and tilting her up so she could feel his frustration in living color.

  “Frustration, huh?” she arched an eyebrow, rocking gently against him, the movement languid and sinuous in the water. “You must be worn out then,” she teased. “Overwrought and exhausted from a week of unsatisfying dreams…”

  Jack groaned as she bit into this earlobe, tongue teasing the hurt she caused ever so gently. He let her explore him, her fingers slipping over the wet musculature and tensile texture of his body. She didn’t linger anywhere, kept her touch light and teasing.

  He shuddered, holding her closer. “All week I’ve felt off. After you left Sunday, I thought it was over, before it even really started—”

  Sam cut him off, kissing him with a little pent up frustration of her own. Jack followed her lead, kissing back like he hadn’t seen her in weeks, hands tightening to hold her in place as he slanted his mouth over hers. He peeled off her suit in the water and she shivered, her body tense with anticipation. Jack lifted her up in his arms, carrying her from the pool and to his side of the terrace, through the heavy, lead glass doors of his private balcony. His fireplace was on, flickering gently, casting a hazy, golden glow around the room. She wondered dazedly if he planned on laying her out in front of it, but instead he carried her upstairs and into his bedroom, a masculine suite appointed in warm colors.

  Jack laid her on a massive bed piled high with quilts and downy pillows. The bed of a sensualist, she thought, bemused. Her wet hair spread behind her as she laid back, watching him peel off his soaked briefs before he stretched out on top of her, coming to rest between the cradle of her thighs. He replaced the chill of the air with his hot, smooth skin, touching his tongue to the valley between her breasts, working his way back up to her neck with biting little kisses lined with edge and need.

  “I missed you,” Jack whispered again, brushing his mouth against the underside of her jawbone, sliding his forearms underneath her shoulder blades, his hands warm and encompassing. “I only had one night with you, and it wasn’t nearly enough,” he confessed. “What the hell is happening to me?” he seemed to ask himself.

  She laughed quietly, nuzzling his face. “Good sex does that to anyone.”

  Jack pulled up to stare down at her. “I’ve had good sex, Samantha,” he told her seriously. “That was…something else entirely.”

  She didn’t know how to respond to that, so she slid her hands into his hair, thumbs massaging his temples as she brought his head down toward her. Sam suckled his lip, biting him gently before administering a soothing swirl. Jack groaned, seeking to get deeper, searching her mouth slowly with agile swipes of his sweet, delicious tongue. Sam felt saturated with sensation, limbs loose and lethargic. Jack kissed like he was speaking a language to her, some secret, shared communication. Each kiss felt a little reckless and fierce, his mouth hot and demanding. Her fingers tightened and fisted in his hair until he issued a hard growl, nipping her in retaliation. And she loved it. God, how she loved it.

  Jack muttered something fervent before bending his head to one breast, the pad of his tongue hot as he glided across and flicked the tip, tugging firmly. His teeth grazed over her nipples ever so slightly—a little jagged edge to accompany that soothing wet lash. There was enough pain and pleasure to make her shudder and groan, her abdomen and thighs tightening with each pull and stroke. Sam groaned when he kissed a path down to her belly, gripping his hair tightly again, her hips tilting forward to try to capture him, seeking heat, friction and satisfaction.

  When he looked up at her, expression tight with want, she told him in on a rasp, “I need you now, Jack. I need you hard and a little rough.”

  He pulled back, seated on his haunches, eyes darkening as he slid his hands down her legs and up under her knees. He yanked her down the bed so swiftly she didn’t have time to react before he neatly flipped her onto her stomach, pulling her up to her knees as he pressed her down to the bed with a firm hand between her shoulder blades.

  Sam felt a trill of excitement rocket down her spine, wondering if he had seen the wetness slip delicately on the inside of her thigh. He had. The next moment, he was licking her, lapping up the tang of her arousal, the bristles on his jaw rasping against the tender skin of her inner thighs. Jack licked her from clit to the tight rosette of her ass, hooking a long finger into her as he rubbed her sweet spot, drawing a long, keening moan from her as she rocked back against him, seeking more pressure, more friction, more of something…just…more, more…she chanted, her eyes squeezed shut.

  “Fuck, I need this,” he gasped against her ass, lashing his tongue against her vulva. “Why do I need you so bad? You’re making me crazy,” he muttered, kneading and pressing her clit as he tongued her entrance, pulling her hips up higher, nearly lifting her knees off his bed in his urgency.

  “Jesus, Jack. Do it,” she moaned. “Make me feel it. Make me feel you.”

  His mouth was so hot, so incredibly urgent as he maneuvered his tongue with his fingers to work her into the first of tight spasms. She was so enveloped in the continuous, unfurling ripples she barely noticed him prepare himself, ripping a foil packet and lubing himself lightly with her wetness. But she felt the low and heavy penetration, the warmth and tingle making her ultra-sensitive tissues undulate around him as he pushed through her channel. Sam felt tight, so tight and swollen from the stimulation, every ridge and vein of him making her edges flutter.

  “Yesss…” she hissed as Jack rocked into her, tilting h
is pelvis up at the end of each erotic push to rub her so exactly, so perfectly right that she nearly reared up off the bed, blood thrumming as she felt each surge Jack made with Technicolor brilliance. “Jesus Christ, yesss, Jack… God, it’s perfect. So perfect…” she groaned while he worked her so thoroughly, pleasured her so completely, Sam was awash in mindless, glorious sensation.

  Tonight, Jack was masterful, and oh-so-thoroughly controlled. He didn’t pound into her as she’d anticipated, forcing another orgasm from her like a hard and punishing surrender. Instead, he encircled, surrounded, tantalized, sliding and stroking her deep, serving her relentlessly, using his strength and skill to incense her again and again until she was lost, adrift in throb and pulse and breath, crying out her release in soft pants, the spasms of pleasure surrounding, crashing, absorbing.

  He withdrew slowly, turning her over to face him, arranging her legs around him, one hitched at his hip and the other braced over the crook of his elbow, plying her open to his perusal, a prurient vision. Her breath hitched as she looked up at him, at the dark flush on his spectacular cheekbones, the silver eyes that stared so intensely back at her.

  “Tell me what you want,” he whispered, reaching a hand forward to run it down her sensitized and overheated body. “Tell me and I can give it to you. I’ll make sure you have what you’re thinking of…over and over again. Just say it, Samantha. Tell me what you need,” he urged, his thumb strumming her sex, making her writhe again as he nudged within the constriction of her body, tantalizing her, teasing.

  Sam knew instinctively that he wanted more than she was offering—a moment’s respite, an erotic, self-indulgent foray with a sexy, midnight lover. She considered refusing him, realizing there was something growing powerful and latent between them, something that required negotiation, some kind of compromise… Jack didn’t want to take her, to fuck her into mindless acquiescence. He wanted her to say yes to him: to ask, to plead, to tell him she needed him.

  Sam pushed up on her elbows, reached up to run fingers down the handsome lines of his face, feeling the scrape of the day’s bristle, the intense heat of his skin. Jack pressed his mouth into her palm, eyes fastened on her, hypnotic as he stroked the bell head of his thick cock in and out of her with minute movements, waiting on her, listening for her words. Sam brought his face down to her, kissing him gently before biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. Jack snapped back, startled, a small smear of dark red on his full, wet lip.

  She smiled. “I believe I said rough.”

  Jack’s expression darkened as he wrenched her to him with the leg he had curled over his arm, pinning her down with his other as he impaled her with a heavy stroke, the muscle ticking in his jaw. Sam gripped his arms, nails biting into his skin as she groaned, urging him to do it, take it, take her the way she needed, but he fastened a firm hand against her, forcing her to follow, refusing her body’s harsh demands as he thrust tirelessly, the downward penetration deep, wringing all the sensation from his motion. The low drag of that long cock was maddening against her nerve endings and Sam arched after long minutes of this torture, fracturing on a low cry.

  He laughed as she clenched against him, overwhelmed and overcome, trying futilely to clamp her knees to his hips as he held her open, riding out her release as long jolts came through her in jarring shudders, his name an incantation as she flung her head back helplessly again and again.

  Jack hoisted her up, pliant and groaning, setting another remarkable rhythm, drawing her down as he came up, every action a controlled counter. He muttered curses and chants with each bias of movement, gripping her to him, touching her again though she couldn’t imagine finding the stamina to have another climax. Sam twisted against him, holding his thickly muscled wrist to still him, but he just pushed them down to the bed so his hand was trapped against her as he worked her in fast, hard strokes of his cock and hand.

  “Jack, Christ, it’s too much—I can’t—” she gasped, trying to stave off the climax, the pleasure nearly excruciating, as he ruthlessly stoked the sensations, staring down at her with glittering eyes.

  “You’ll come for me again,” he promised, teeth gritted as he rooted deep, over and over until she was gasping and desperate, uncertain if this was pain or pleasure, if she wanted him to capture and hold her like this or release and let her go.

  “Jaaack,” she groaned. “Please just…please…” she muttered incoherently, moving her hand from his wrist to his fingers, helping him rub her off exactly right, with that perfect amount of pressure, while they both worked furiously toward the rise.

  “I’m taking what I want, Samantha,” he bit out, as he stared down at her. “Now. Come now,” he commanded as his self-control splintered and he powered into her, hips snapping forward as his head flung back, lost in the wake of his own ferocious orgasm. Sam was sucked into his undertow, lost in the ebb and flow of their movement, riding that long, delicious wave that rippled from her core. Jack drove deep and held, squeezing her as his shudders began to abate, her name a hoarse recitation. Samantha—Fuck. Fuck, yes…

  Samantha…

  They held onto each other for a long time afterward, bodies cooling as their breaths calmed. Jack said nothing, gave nothing away, but Sam could sense his pensiveness, still cradled inside her warmth, his breath a gentle puff against her collarbone. She pressed her fingers into his head, neck, and shoulders, finding his individual pressure points and kneading through the remaining tension. She felt him gradually relax against her, drowsily shifting to press small, tender kisses to her breast, and she watched as his eyes drift closed, dark lashes heavy, the days of accumulated exhaustion taking over and dragging him into the respite of sleep.

  Sam held him for a long time, enjoying his nearness while she was lost in her own thoughts, finally succumbing to the languor enough to doze. As early morning light crept over Chicago’s horizon, she opened her eyes to watch the dusty pink and orange rays climb through the still-dark sky before slipping from his loosened arms.

  *

  October—Friday morning

  The Whitney, Chicago

  J A C K

  Jack’s eyes opened slowly, registering the distant sound of his alarm. He groaned, stretching widely, his hands tucked deep under his pillows. He felt…amazing. The sunlight touched the bed, warming him. He sat up on his elbows, quickly aware that he was alone. Knocking back his covers, he turned off his alarm as he swung his legs over. Five or six hours at least, he realized as he glanced at the time. Unheard of.

  “Samantha,” he called out, rubbing a hand over his face, wincing as he touched his lip. He walked to the bathroom, examining the slight swell in the mirror. Sam’s mark. And her resistance. Jack’s mood darkened as he realized she’d gone. He splashed water on his face, pulling on some pants before heading downstairs. The pot was on, the waft of hot coffee delicious. Like before, he saw a note folded up in a coffee mug. He plucked it out, wishing she hadn’t left.

  Jack,

  You’re breathtaking. Our time was…incredible. I’ll never forget it.

  -S

  He blinked, rereading it. “What the fuck does that mean?” he asked aloud in the emptiness of his apartment. He picked up his phone to call her, but somehow, Jack knew she wouldn’t answer.

  Chapter 16

  End of October—Two weeks later

  Chicago Midway Airport, Private Jet Terminal

  S A M A N T H A

  “Sam, you need to get to the gym,” Rush told her, his tone urgent. She could hear shouting and whistling behind his voice on the phone.

  “Why? What’s going on?” she asked, tossing her bag into the passenger seat of the ’vette, tipping the valet at the private jet terminal. She’d just landed from a thirteen-hour flight from Tokyo, where she’d spent the better part of the week in meetings with clients and courting new prospects. The very last thing she wanted to do was watch amateur fighters duke it out at the gym tonight.

  “It’s Jack,” Rush continued, sounding stressed.
“He had Manny set up a fight tonight with one of the amateurs in his weight class. Vic Vidal. I’ve seen this guy fight. Not for nothing, but he’s going to annihilate Jack.” Sam had never heard the usually laid-back Rush sound truly worried. Now she realized he had every right to be.

  “Talk him out of it,” Sam answered, her voice sharp.

  “I tried. He just asked me where you were, and I told him you were still out of town on business. He just said it was going to be fine. Said he had to work off some aggression.”

  “Why are you calling me then?” Sam asked, gunning the engine as she pulled out of the airport.

  “I’m not trying to get in your business, boss, but I figured you’d care that he’s going to get his ass kicked.” She heard a swell of cheers in the background. “Oh, hell,” Rush muttered.

  Sam’s hand tightened around the wheel. “What happened?”

  “He just pushed Vidal off, but he got landed with a combo to the ribs. I’d be surprised if he didn’t get a couple of them cracked,” he muttered. Sam could barely hear him over the din.

  “Where’s Mitch?”

  “He’s here. He tried to talk Jack out of it too, but he just wasn’t listening.”

  Another roar sounded of cheers and jeers.

  “How many people are there tonight?” Sam asked.

  “At least forty guys. We had to put people at the door. This shit’s like white-collar Fight Club.”

  “Jack won’t back down with that many people watching,” she reasoned out loud. “He’ll have to be KO’d. Shit!” Sam hit the wheel before taking a breath, trying to calm down. “Who’s reffing?”

  “Manny.”

  “Where’s Kim Sensei?”

  “Judo tournament in St. Louis.”

  “And Carey’s out of town this weekend,” she murmured to herself, remembering he’d mentioned taking Willa to a lake house on Mackinac Island. “Talon there?”

  “Just got here.”