Jared was having to fight harder to fabricate plausible lies—those tight little nipples were driving him crazy pressed against his own. Her entire body mimicked the movement of her hips as she rubbed up and down him, slow, sensual, and sizzling.
“He told me he was coming here, but he never came back. I haven’t been able to get in touch with him, and I think something bad might have happened.”
Please don’t stop. Just don’t stop. She rewarded him by pressing her sweet lips to his, this time without an ounce of hesitation. Her tongue plunged into his mouth, her kiss demanding. There was no hint of awkwardness. His tigress.
Where was this feeling of possessiveness coming from? He’d never kept a woman longer than one night, never thought of a woman as his…
“Untie me. I’ve got to touch you.” Jared rasped, his oxygen all but gone.
“I can’t. I can’t risk it.”
“You can,” Jared commanded. But the little minx sat back, riding his cock, the rough material of her jean shorts pressing hard against his engorged flesh. “I told you what you wanted to know, now it’s your turn. Take those shorts off.” He couldn’t help the harsh authority in his voice this time. He was losing his mind, needing to touch her, to be inside her. Needing to take her.
Sparrow stood up right there on the bed, her feet straddling his hips. She unsnapped the button, slowly slid the zipper down, and then hooked her thumbs into the top of the cut offs and slid them down her long lean legs, torturing him with every inch of flesh revealed. When her shorts were to her ankles, she kicked them off and stood proud and naked, except for her panties.
They were white cotton with black lettering to match her barely-there top. There was a black arrow pointing straight at her crotch, and the words “Insert Slot B” were stamped across the top.
Jesus fucking Christ.
She dropped to her knees and straddled him again, falling forward onto her arms, her long, silky hair trailing across his chest. Her tight nipples and flushed skin spoke to her arousal as much as the small moans coming from her lips. He could just imagine how wet her panties would be, if only he could get his hands untied to touch her. Right this minute he’d be willing to say anything to get inside her.
“I can’t wait to touch you, to put my hands on you. Run my fingers through your hair. Hold your head to mine as I take your lips, and my kiss won’t be gentle this time, Sparrow, it will be hard. I want to show you how a kiss should be.”
Her eyes went even more heavy-lidded, but she still held herself aloft over him.
“And when I’m through with your mouth, I’m going to cup your beautiful breasts. I’m going to squeeze them and roll your nipples between my fingers until you’re moaning with pleasure.”
She bucked against him, her tight nipples grazing his chest.
“Show me Sparrow, cup yourself for me, let me imagine what my hands would look like on your soft skin.”
8
Sparrow’s body was on fire, her skin so sensitive just the brush of his chest against her drove her wild. Never had she experienced so many sensations at one time. His voice rasped over her skin. Sexy. Commanding. Hot. She wanted so badly for him to touch her.
It was like someone else had taken over her body. Some wanton. She sat back on her heels, savoring his hard length pressed against her panties. Unable to resist, although she didn’t understand why, her hips rocked forward and back. The pressure was building in intensity with each movement.
Unbidden, her fingertips grazed her thighs, skimmed her belly, and then cupped her breasts, squeezing them for the man beneath her. They felt heavy and swollen, aching for his touch.
“That’s it. Now pinch your nipples.” He locked his gaze on her, commanding her even as he was bound to her bed.
Sparrow felt like she would die if she didn’t follow his instruction. She’d never touched herself before, never explored her own body or anyone else’s. Following his lead, she took her thumb and finger and squeezed each nipple, pulling and twisting. Intense pleasure combined with pain pulled a sharp cry from her lips.
“That’s it sweetheart. That’s it. Harder.”
She tugged and didn’t try to hold in her cry of pleasure. She watched, her lids heavy, as he yanked at the rope over his head, and right at that moment she would have given anything to feel him touching her. She knew instinctively that while her hands might feel good, his would drive her absolutely wild. “Hank.”
“Free me.” She let her head fall back while riding his cock. Tension built inside her and she knew it had to lead to something, but she had no idea where.
“God, I can feel how wet you are. You’re soaking those panties. You need me to touch you. To take care of you. To give you sweet pleasure. All I need is one hand, Sparrow, that’s it. Let me show you.”
Sparrow was a woman possessed. She didn’t need to understand what would happen, she just knew he would take care of her. She rode him faster, moaning with each thrust and before she even realized what was happening, her hands were skimming up his huge arms and tangling in the rope.
“Almost there, baby.”
He bit down on her nipple and she cried out, bringer her hand back down to cup his head, her body buckling under the intense pleasure.
When he released her, she wanted to weep. “Untie me and let me make you scream.”
Her fingers shook so bad she couldn’t get a firm grip on the knot. Frustrated, she yanked, and the rough rope burned her flesh.
What are you doing? Had she lost her mind? Suddenly she was just as desperate for release as he was.
Her head dropped and she let her arms fall to her sides. She couldn’t risk it, no matter how much her body screamed for his.
“Get the knife and cut the goddamn rope.” He bucked beneath her, but instead of scaring her, it only made her hotter. Wetter.
Squirrel had been right. He was too much for her. The sexual eminence flowing from his body controlled her. She wanted to do as he asked. She wanted what he could give her like she’d never wanted anything in her entire life.
She knew what she had to do and she wanted to weep from despair. She reached over to the bedside table where Squirrel’s knife rested beside the two shot glasses, one laced with truth serum.
“That’s it baby, use the knife to cut the rope. I swear to God, I’ll give you pleasure like you’ve never dreamed.” His raspy voice sent goose bumps racing across her flesh. Her heart tripped and her fingers fumbled over the handle of the Bowie knife.
That’s all that stood between her and ultimate pleasure. Or—her worst nightmare.
Sparrow steeled herself and reached a little further, grabbing the bottle of whiskey and pouring a shot in each glass.
She downed hers first, praying the liquid would giver her courage to finish her task. She’d never in her life had a problem with being deceitful and devious, that’s how she rolled—it was the only way to survive up here—but something about this man pulled at her soul and she found herself wanting to save him instead of use him.
Self-preservation kicked in, though, and as much as she wanted to be his savior, she wanted to live more. Sparrow lifted the glass to his lips. “Drink. Let me think on this a spell.”
He drank without question. “More. Give me another shot.” Sweat beaded along his brow and she obliged, pouring him another whiskey. He downed it like a man dying of thirst. How much longer could she hold out? They both needed release.
“I want to cut you free. I want to real bad. But I can’t risk it. I’m asking you nicely, so please tell me the truth. What do you want with my family?”
“Right now all I want to do is to bury myself between your thighs.”
He might as well have struck a match and set her ablaze.
Desperation edged through her veins. How long would it take for the drugs to kick in? Freaking hell, this man was sex incarnate. She wanted to enjoy him longer, even if she meant to ultimately destroy him. After tonight, she might never get to kiss him again. And a
fter him, no man would ever measure up.
Sparrow pressed her lips to his, seeking solace in his touch, wanting to lose herself for just one more minute.
He met her full force, lifting his head from the pillow and going at her aggressively. Possessively. She’d always imagined sweet little kisses and loving words. But Hank, even bound to the bed, dominated her.
As his kiss grew lazy, she realized the drugs had started working. Still, she clasped him to her for a while longer, unwilling to give up their connection. No matter how hard she held him, though, he slipped away, and she let his head drop to the bed. “Hank?”
“Hmmm?” His lids lay heavy and low, and his grin was languid.
“Why are you here?” Sparrow forced the guilt down. He might look innocent right now, but this man was deadly.
“Hoping to get laid.” She couldn’t help but smile at his groggy words.
“I want you too. But if you want me, you’ll tell me why you’re here, why you came to my mountain.”
“My mountain,” he echoed.
Had she given him too much? If he was going to do nothing but repeat everything she said, this would be useless. “Jake, why are you here on my property?”
He closed his eyes and his black brows dipped down in frustration. “Not Jake. Not your mountain. My mountain.”
Sparrow sat back on her heels, crushing her crotch onto his still hard cock, Jared answered by pressing into her.
“Who are you?”
His eyes opened and she was swallowed whole by their blackness. “I’m the boy who got away.”
His words tugged at her, pulling forth an inkling of premonition, like she should know exactly who he was—and she had the sinking sensation that she did know. Sparrow braced her arms on the mattress, watching the expression on his face. “Tell me your full name.”
“Jared Crowe.”
Sparrow fell backwards off the bed and shoved her fist in her mouth to keep her scream inside. The boy from her dreams. One of the two she’d found tied and beaten like dogs, stuffed in a closet to starve to death. Her young heart had been unable to stand their torture a moment longer, so she’d snuck into their shack one night and set them both free. Jared and Hoyt Crowe.
The heirs to Crowe Mountain. Miss Kay had held them hostage after their parents’ sudden death, holding on to them to secure the land deed to the mountain and surrounding land. After the boys’ disappearance, Miss Kay had told everyone they were dead, leaving her with an indisputable claim to Crowe Mountain.
If Miss Kay found out the identity of Sparrow’s captive, she’d kill him. Slit his throat and burn the body. Had Sparrow set him free as a child only to trap him as an adult?
She approached the bed on trembling legs.
“Why would you ever come back here?”
“She took him. She took my brother. Have to get him back. He can’t stand the dark.”
Sparrow nearly doubled over. He’d been telling a partial truth earlier. But why would Miss Kay go after the Crowe brothers after all these years?
Sparrow sank to the bed, elbows braced on her knees, and let her head fall into her hands. A memory she’d buried long ago whispered to her from her subconscious. “Come with us. I’ll find a way to take care of you. Get you out of this place.”
Even then, beaten and starved, he’d tried to save her. But that was before Tootsie’s overdose, and Sparrow hadn’t had the heart to leave her mother to fend for herself. Tootsie could barely get out of bed most days, let alone manage the trailer. And now the tortured boy she’d set free had come home, and if Sparrow carried through with her plan and used him to ensure her position with Miss Kay, it would all but ensure his death.
“Have you seen him, Sparrow. Have they got him in the closet?” Jared’s voice dropped to that of a child in pain, hurt and questioning. Unbidden, tears rose to her eyes and she shook her head because she couldn’t force words through the tight cinch around her throat. “I wish you would’ve came with us, Sparrow.”
His words shook her tears free. “I wanted to. I wanted to more than anything.”
“Where’s my brother? Where is he? I have to find him before they hurt him.”
This was no longer the strong, dominating man from minutes ago; this was the little boy she’d saved all those years ago.
The last rays of sunlight streaming through the broken window blinds faded, leaving the room in a strange sort of dark twilight. The old lamp on her nightstand was too dim to light much beyond the table on which it sat.
Jared strained against his bonds. “No, not the dark. Please not the dark.”
His pleas ripped her from her thoughts. His skin had turned pale and sweaty, and his pupils were huge and unfocused. Her heart ripped in two, straight down the middle. No. She could never turn him over to be murdered, not even if it meant her own death. She would save him and his brother again. Just like when they were little kids. It felt a bit like fate.
“Sparrow, please untie me. I can’t take it. Too much. Have to protect him. Have to protect you,” Jared was rambling now, turning his head from side to side on the pillow.
Sparrow caressed Jared’s face with one hand and reached for the knife with the other. Yes, she would help them escape, but maybe she would go with them this time. If she could convince Squirrel to leave, Jared could help them start a new life. A life somewhere far away from this place that ran on drugs and booze and whoring.
9
When Jared came back to consciousness, his head was heavy and throbbing. He reached up to clasp his temples between his palms, trying to rub some of the grogginess away. Memories of Sparrow naked and riding him flitted through his mind. Her sweet smile, the taste of honey whiskey, and then…nothing. Just darkness.
Darkness made lighter as soon as he realized she’d set him free. Jared shot upright, the sudden motion setting off such a pounding sensation in his head he nearly fell off the bed.
“Whoa, slow down.” Sparrow appeared in front of him, the skimpy outfit from before back in place.
“What did we do?” His voice was rough and gravelly, like he hadn’t spoken in a while and needed practice.
“Nothing. You passed out.” He remembered nearly losing control. He remembered the feel of her skin on his. He remembered wanting her as he had never wanted anything in his entire life. Why couldn’t he remember the rest?
“What do you remember?” Sparrow asked.
Jared searched through the haze in his mind, but came up with nothing but fuzzy cobwebs. No sunlight showed through the blinds, and the room was dark except for a crappy lamp. “Did I sleep the whole day?”
Sparrow followed his gaze. “No, it’s after midnight now. You slept for a few hours.”
“What happened?”
Her cheeks flushed pink and she avoided his gaze. He grabbed her hand, gently wrapped his fingers around her wrist, and pulled her to him. “What happened?”
“I, I got scared. I got scared that I was losing control of the situation. So I gave you just a wee bit of something special in your whiskey, something to knock you out.”
“You drugged me?”
That tempting pink blush turned to dark red, and instead of the anger he’d expected to feel, he found himself wanting to comfort her. He gave a tug and she fell into his lap, simply enjoying the sensation of her skin against his. “It’s okay. I’m not mad, you can tell me.”
It was true. He should be furious. He should tie her to the bed and leave her there so he could go out looking for his brother. Instead, he eased his fingers up and down her arm in an effort to soothe her.
Sparrow blew her hair out of her face and turned the full force of her amber eyes on him, causing his breath to hitch. He knew this wasn’t a normal reaction. Maybe the explanation was simple. Maybe memories from the past were the only link between them. But his instincts told him it was something more. And years of Special Forces training had taught him to trust his instincts.
“Jared, it was really stupid of me to try an
d seduce you to get information. But I didn’t count on feeling this way. Having these reactions. And I got scared. That’s why I drugged you.”
His gut tightened as the first shimmer of anger edged its way into his psyche. He hated the thought that he’d spent the day tied down. If a man had done it to him, he would’ve killed him.
Then she clasped his hand between her two tiny ones and held it up between them, her gaze fraught. “I remember who you are now. You’re the boy from my dreams. I…I thought you died. Miss Kay told everyone you and Hoyt were dead.”
So much for the element of surprise. Jared tilted his forehead to hers. “I remembered you the minute I saw you.”
She pulled back, the shock clear on her face. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“How was I to know that you hadn’t turned into one of them? I mean, you stayed here. This place is evil.” Before she could say anything he continued, “Look at who owns it. Miss Kay chained and tortured her two orphaned nephews, her own flesh and blood, for no reason whatsoever.”
Her mouth fell open. “You don’t know?”
“Know what?”
“You’re the true heirs to the mountain. Your mama and daddy had the land deed, so when they died you would have inherited half the county.”
All those years of wondering why. The not knowing had left scars on his soul far deeper than any physical injury. Scars that bled tension into his veins. Scars that tormented him in his sleep. Now the same girl who had saved him all those years ago was easing his suffering once more.
“Jared, say something. You’re scaring me.” Sparrow cupped his cheek, her fingers soft and healing against his rough skin.
Jared laughed, but even he could tell there was no humor in the sound. No, this was the type of laugh that landed someone in a psych ward.
“Oh, Lord. I shouldn’t have told you that.”
Jared reeled in his emotions. After having spent so many years pushing them down and containing them, it was almost easy. Grabbing her wrist, he pulled her to him. “Don’t you see, Sparrow? You’ve given me my freedom again. All these years…I couldn’t understand why our only kin would have done that to us.”
Reckless River: Men of Mercy, Book 3 Page 7