Three big fingers filled her pussy, stretching her. He didn’t give her time to adjust, just thrust high and hard into her soaking channel. This time, there was no holding back her scream. It was too much, and not nearly enough. He worked her until she thought she’d faint, her wetness growing with every plunge of his fingers inside her. He pulled from her abruptly, making her cry out at the loss. Using her own moisture, he slid those same fingers one by one into her backside. Shudders wracked her body, and she whimpered when his other hand took the place of the first, filling her pussy. It was more than she could bear. She came, screaming. Her sex milked his fingers, tingles exploding over her skin as she rocked herself between his hands.
Fire flashed in her blood, sweat slid down her temples, and all she could do was let her head fall back as she moaned. “Jericho. My Jericho.”
“Yes,” he groaned, the sound tormented pleasure. “God, yes.”
His fingers jerked from her ass, and she felt him position his cock at the entrance of her anus. Oh. Jesus. A whimper fell from her throat, and his thick cock pressed her wider than his hand had. The tight ring of her anus bore down on him, and she forced her shaking muscles to relax, to accept the hot invasion. Anticipation pumped her blood even faster through her veins, a sizzle of ecstasy arcing through her overloaded system. He worked his cock deeper and deeper. She fell forward on her palms, bracing herself on the smooth wood table so she could move with him, take all of him. He thrust slowly at first, but picked up speed and force until his taut belly spanked against the softer curve of her buttocks.
The heel of his palm rotated against her clit, and her breath caught in shock. His hand worked her pussy to the same rhythm as his cock in her ass. His fingertips rubbed the thin layer of flesh between her two channels, stimulating her to a point she’d never reached before. Her nails raked across the tabletop, her back bowing as he fucked her hard and rough. Taking her. Possessing her. His palm slapped against her clit with each movement of his hand, his pelvis grinding into her ass. A wave of ecstasy hit her, almost taking her over the edge. Almost. God, she was so damn close. A few more strokes of that big cock in her anus, a couple of flicks of those clever fingers and she would break. He paused for just a moment, a fraction of a second, but it was enough to make her cry out in desperate longing. He couldn’t stop now. She’d throttle him if he tried.
Jericho’s deep rumble reverberated in her ear, the tone silky, dangerous. “Deny it all you want, darlin’, but we belong to each other. You belong to me.” His hot breath washed over her skin, making goose flesh break down her limbs. His thrusts became wilder, fiercer. “I don’t have to talk about the past for you to know you’re mine, Tori. Mine. You always have been, you always will be. You’ll never be free of me, you’ll never get the feel of me off your skin, the taste of me out of your mouth. You. Are. Mine. My soul mate. Just plain old fucking mine.”
“I hate you!”
He laughed at her, bit the back of her shoulder, licked the stinging flesh until she panted. “No, you don’t. You only wish you could.”
He was right, damn him.
Those wicked fingers rubbed her G-spot, and he shoved his cock deep in her ass, deeper than he’d ever been before and she was lost. She shattered, pushed beyond her endurance. Her inner muscles clenched around his fingers, his cock, and her entire body undulated against him in wanton abandon. Her skin felt too hot and too tight to hold in the ecstasy roiling through her, splintering her into a million unrecognizable pieces.
The last thing she heard before reality dissolved around her was his growl of “Mine.”
Her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed forward. He caught her, cradled her against his chest, brushed her sweat-dampened hair away from her face, kissed her temple. He whispered something against her skin, but she didn’t hear it. Consciousness slipped away, and she welcomed the sweet nothingness of oblivion.
Chapter Five
Tori dreamed about her last day as a human every night that week, her subconscious’s constant reminder to keep her guard up around Jericho, to not get too close, to never repeat her past mistakes. Because she might help other people fall in love, but her final hours as a human proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was a failure in the love department—always had been, always would be.
She just wished the details had grown fuzzier with time, but they hadn’t. The nightmare always started in the same place. She and Jericho arguing. Again. She’d wanted to see Enrique, to assure her brother that she was all right. She’d hated that she knew he’d be worried, and she’d been certain if she explained to him how she felt about Jericho, that he’d understand, that he’d give them his blessing. Jericho didn’t want to release her as his prisoner, but her insistence had finally paid off and he’d returned her to her brother—or maybe he’d just gotten sick of listening to her, and his sexual toy had been less fun to play with. Her reputation had already been tattered beyond repair, so the damage to her brother’s honor had been done.
The reasons didn’t matter, in the end. All that mattered was that things hadn’t gone the way she’d planned. She’d been such a naïve little idiot. Enrique hadn’t understood—he’d refused to let her go back to a man who’d stolen her virtue. Nothing she said would make him believe she loved Jericho, that she didn’t want to live without him.
Her mind was locked in the dream, wanting to change how it ended, kicking and screaming and railing at herself, but it always ended the same. She could only watch and wait and live through her own demise over and over again. It was like Groundhog Day on crack.
She’d managed to escape Enrique’s guards during the chaos of preparations for a surprise raid, and ridden her horse into the little backwater Texas town Jericho and his men occupied. Getting lost in the dark twice, terrified she wouldn’t be able to warn Jericho in time, her memory tormented her with every moment of the horrifying panic of that ride. One of Jericho’s men had reluctantly told her where to find him—the local saloon. The brothel. She hadn’t wanted to believe, but she couldn’t deny the truth that faced her—her brother had been right, Jericho had only used her to taunt an enemy, and she was a fool. She’d blurted out the information about Enrique’s plans, that Jericho and his men were in danger, and then she’d staggered out, too broken, too numb to know or care where she should go next. She’d just gotten back on her horse and left. Jericho hadn’t tried to stop her, hadn’t come after her, hadn’t cared that she’d been caught in the raid. He hadn’t cared that she’d died trying to save his life. And he certainly hadn’t had the decency to live and make her sacrifice worth something.
Every morning she jerked awake, back in her own bed, but sweat-soaked and shaking. Jericho was always there, reaching out to soothe her, and that soothing led to sex. Which meant her nerves were shot. Her senses were overloaded with both the remembered pain of Jericho and the overwhelming pleasure of being in his arms again.
It was enough to make her crazy. It sure as hell kept her a regular and loyal customer of Bean There, Done That. Caffeine was the only thing getting her through the days. She swallowed and offered Mason a smile when he noticed she’d stepped into line behind him. “Your Celia will be back from her convention tomorrow.”
She’d often accidentally run into him at the coffee shop, so if it was a little more often than usual this week, no one wondered why. If she could get in just a little encouragement here and there, it wouldn’t hurt. Keep him thinking about his soul mate, remind him he wanted her.
Mason grinned his pirate’s grin, showing even white teeth. “She’s not my Celia. Yet.”
“Well, she’s a fool to turn you down, young man.” Tori threw in an extra little old lady creak to her voice and patted his brawny arm.
He laughed, his eyes dancing with real amusement. She got the impression he was bemused and a little touched that the kindly old town gossip took such an interest in his campaign to win Celia over. “Why, thank you, ma’am. I think so too.”
Sweeping his arm in f
ront of him in a roughly gallant gesture, he let her step up to the counter and order her coffee first. He really was a nice guy, if they could just get him and Celia on the right track. Tori sighed, her smile crumbling when she turned her back on him.
Even with the ugly nightmares, the days had whipped by, time racing when she wanted it to slow down. Dread settled like a cold, twisted knot in her belly. For better or for worse, this thing with Jericho would be over soon.
Somehow, her subconscious’s less-than-subtle nightly memos weren’t enough. She was more in love with him than she ever had been before, and it made her want to vomit. Maybe she should have been surprised at the depth of her reaction, but she wasn’t. Soul mating was her business, and she knew from personal experience what happened when things went wrong. Maybe that was why failed soul mates became this kind of Guardian. Who better to understand the importance of their missions? Who better to appreciate the difficulty, the agony, of falling in love?
Jericho had kept to their deal. He hadn’t brought up their painful past, and Tori did her best to block out the nightmares and pretend it had never happened, to live in the now, to absorb the utter joy of being with a man crafted specifically for her.
It almost worked. When she was in his arms, she could almost forget. Almost.
As much as she loved every moment she spent with him, talking to him, being near him, a part of her would never belong to him, a piece of her heart and mind would never let her go all the way. And she was grateful. It would make it easier when they parted. She knew that, and still she ached. Ached for what was to come, and for what could never be.
She swayed on her feet, and Mason caught her elbow. “Whoa, Mrs. Chambers. You okay?”
His gaze had sharpened with both concern and professionalism. As a firefighter, he had medical training. Shit. She tried not to wince, straightened her shoulders, and offered the most genuine smile she could muster. “I’m just fine. Don’t you worry.”
Nodding easily, he didn’t relinquish his grip on her arm. “Why don’t I walk you back to the inn anyway? Just for my piece of mind.”
It wasn’t a request, and she knew it. Her grin was more genuine this time as amusement stole through her. A guardian angel couldn’t get sick, couldn’t get hurt, couldn’t die. His anxiety was touching, and only made her more determined to get things right for him and his soul mate. She and Jericho may have screwed the pooch for themselves, but as Jericho had said, they wouldn’t fail these people.
The trip to the bed and breakfast only took a few minutes, and she left Mason on the sidewalk to try to bury herself in the business of the inn. Cover story or not, she had to keep it running smoothly. It gave her something to think about besides Jericho and their assignment, so she was grateful for the distraction. She checked the rooms, chatted with guests, served tea and cakes, then immersed herself in paperwork. A typical workday, and the routine of it after a year was soothing. Her night manager rousted her from the small office behind the check-in counter at just after seven that evening, shooing her toward the back door and her little cottage.
Jericho would be there soon. He’d made sure they spent every night together this week. Sometimes in her bed, sometimes in his. So, she waited, anticipation creating a lovely buzz in her system—or maybe it was just her brain buzzing from too much coffee and too little rest. She puttered around, put in a pan of lasagna for dinner, took a basket of clean laundry into her bedroom to fold and put away. The house was quiet, peaceful. It reminded her of the solitary life she led, and how lonely it could be. Banishing the unwanted thought, she forced her attention to the task at hand. She was hanging a dress in her small walk-in closet when Jericho arrived. She didn’t hear him come in, she just became aware of him standing in her bedroom, watching her with that intent gaze of his.
“I took dinner out of the oven to cool. It smells great.” He braced his shoulder against the doorjamb to her closet.
“Thanks.”
Without trying, he dominated the space, his shoulders blocking the light streaming in from her bedroom. She reached overhead to jerk the chain attached to the overhead light. The naked bulb flooded the space with brightness, and she blinked to clear the sudden spots from her vision. Finished putting away the last of her laundry, she turned to exit. Jericho was still there, but he wasn’t looking at her. Instead, he stroked a finger down a jumble of silk scarves she had dangling from one hanger. When he met her gaze, his expression was considering, but the tiny smile that twitched the corners of his lips was pure sin.
“These are pretty.”
She swallowed, trying to generate some moisture in her suddenly parched throat. “I like them.”
“I’m glad.” His voice dropped to a low rumble that reached down deep inside her. “Take off your clothes.”
“Jericho…”
“Things have been so good this week, haven’t they? Better than ever, for me, anyway. But I want more from you. I’ve been dying to have you at my mercy, Tori. Let me. You know you like it, you want it. I want it.” Some emotion she couldn’t recognize flittered through his gaze, quickly masked behind a persuasive little grin. He plucked up a handful of the scarves, sliding them between his long fingers. She stared, mesmerized. “Let me please you, Vitoria.”
She hadn’t let him tie her up in the last week, deliberately. He’d hinted, but she’d always managed to distract him. It was too intimate, too trusting. But the effect of days on end with him, the sweetness of it, had drugged her. A slow, insidious contentment had wound through her. She closed her eyes, swallowed, her heart twisting in her chest.
“Please…” But she didn’t know what she was asking for—for him to stop tempting her, for him to give her exactly what he’d offered.
The light in front of her shifted, and when she looked at him again, she saw he’d stepped back to allow her to pass him. She swayed until her breasts brushed his chest, and when she met his gaze, he groaned at whatever he saw there. Tossing the scarves across the foot of the bed, he reached for her, had them both naked before her brain could even fully acknowledge what she was about to let him do. Despite all her very good reasons, her resistance crumbled. It always did with him. This thing she had going with him now would be over soon, and she would never have this chance again. So, she’d take it. Her eyes were open, she knew what she was doing. She just hoped her heart survived.
He stretched her arms over her head, looping silky fabric around each of her wrists and then attaching them to the swirls of wrought iron that made up her headboard. She tested the bindings, tugging at them while he repeated the process with her ankles. The muscles in her thighs tensed in an automatic motion to protect herself from so much vulnerability, but she couldn’t close her legs, couldn’t move. A shudder ran through her when he flipped on the bright bedside lamp, framing her in a circle of light that made her feel even more exposed.
Excitement whipped through her, even though she reminded herself this was temporary insanity. He moved between her thighs, forcing her legs even wider. His cock was a hard arc that danced just under his navel, pre-come already rolling in slow beads down the long shaft. The sight made her belly clench and molten heat pumped through her veins. She waited for him to touch, to take, but instead he just stared down at her. When he spoke, his voice shook. “You are so damn beautiful.”
She swallowed, made a smile quirk her lips. “You’re not so bad yourself, cowboy.”
It was nothing less than the truth. Jericho had a gorgeous body—the kind that made women pant, all broad shoulders and narrow hips, rippling abs and tight pecs. Plus, he was hung. She tried not to drool, but this was a fantasy come true. Bound, naked, and offered up like a buffet for his pleasure. With any other man, that might be a problem for her, but this was Jericho. She knew he’d make it good for her. In that, he’d never failed her.
He reached for her. His dark hair fell over his forehead as he leaned forward, his heavy-lidded gray eyes shining with naked desire. Her nipples tightened when his gaze to
uched them, and she strained against the silk scarves, wanting to get closer to him. That she couldn’t only made it better for her, made her burn. A fine tremor ran through his hands when he stroked over her collarbone, down to shape her breasts in his palms. Her breath caught as his callused hands stimulated her sensitive nipples. He lifted her breasts, kissed the soft, plumped curves. His touch was gentle, and far too slow to satisfy her. She was so ready when he took her nipple into his mouth and began to suckle that she screamed and jerked on the scarves. Tears blurred her vision and tingles flowed in rippling waves over every inch of her flesh. She was damp, flushed, ready for him to take her and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do to hurry him up. God she loved this, loved him, loved the way he touched her, kissed her, pleased her. She gritted her teeth to suppress the urge to tell him. Giving him that much would destroy her, and she knew it. All she could do was take what he offered—sex—hot, sweaty and dirty.
The smooth, hard head of his cock brushed over the lips of her pussy. Need clawed at her, made her writhe in response. She arched herself for him, a silent offering, a demand, and he chuckled. The sound was nothing short of sinful, and it ratcheted up her anticipation even further. “I can’t wait much longer, Jericho.”
“Yes, you can. You will. And you’ll like it.” He moved down her body, his broad shoulders keeping her thighs spread wide, and his breath whispered over the moist folds of her swollen sex. “I promise.”
She whimpered, tugging hard on her bindings, desperate for the wild, mindless pleasure only he had ever given her. The first stroke of his tongue on her pussy made her jolt, scream and twist. His lips closed over her clit and sucked. The breath exploded from her lungs and she couldn’t drag in enough oxygen to plead, beg, and cry for more, for relief, for anything and everything he had to give her as long as he kept that wicked promise. Her muscles throbbed with the strain of pulling at the ties on her ankles and wrists, but she couldn’t lie still. She craved him so much.
Believe in Me: Unbelievable, Book 2 Page 4