by Jo Raven
Belatedly I notice the fact I’m facing him. I’m so fucking exposed—my dick, my face, he can see it all. Every reaction. Nothing I can hide.
And I can’t hold on to that thought, because with every shift of his body, every thrust, he shoves more pleasure into me. He brushes his hand over my cock and I shudder, but he doesn’t jack me off, and when I reach down to do it myself, he knocks my hand away.
“You will come,” he says, a promise, and another shudder wracks me. His hand finds my balls and cradles them, massaging.
Oh fuck… I’m shaking and I can’t stop, my body coiled tight, the pressure in my gut rising and rising until it fucking hurts, and then…
“Just promise me one thing,” Raine pants, and his voice echoes strangely in my ears.
I grunt. What is he talking about?
He bends lower, and whispers in my ear, “Promise you’ll keep the key, Jase. Promise.”
“I…can’t…” Can’t promise. Can’t speak.
Fuck.
He goes still, staring down at me, beautiful like a goddamn angel, and he literally has me by the balls.
I knew this was a bad idea. I’m panting and burning to come, and I want this so damn much I summon my last functioning brain cells to the task.
“I promise,” I whisper. “I’ll keep the damn key.”
He grins, drops a kiss on my mouth, and lets go of my balls to wrap his hand around my cock even as he pulls out a few inches and slams back into my ass.
God. I groan and buck and writhe. I’m so fucking hard his grip on my cock hurts, but he starts to stroke me, and the pain turns into pleasure. So much fucking pleasure, I’m bursting at the seams, coming apart.
My grip on his shoulders has to be leaving bruises. But I can’t let go. Heat bursts from my cock, and a hoarse cry tears itself from my throat as I come, and come. It feels like falling through empty space, burning, burning…
“Damn,” he breathes, moving over me, in me, forcing another choked cry from me and another crushing wave of pleasure. Then he stiffens and groans long and low, his cock swelling more, then jerking as he comes, too.
He slumps over me, and I catch him, wrapping my arms around him. We’re breathing together, our hearts pounding against one another, every inch of our sweaty skin touching. I clutch him close, struggling to wrap my head around what just happened.
My body’s still humming with the release like a plucked chord. Shit, I’ve never come so hard before. This orgasm was so much stronger than anything I’ve ever managed with my own hand. So damn sweet and sharp. It was…
He shifts, sitting up and starting to pull out of me. I grunt, my ass clenching, and I force myself to relax, watching as he removes the condom and ties it off, then drops it on top of our pile of discarded clothes.
I open my mouth to say something. Not sure what, but after having your mind blown to bits, surely you should talk about it, right?
Though the only thing that comes to mind is, wow, and goddamn, and… Did he feel it, too? Did he feel the world move, like I did? I wanna ask, but forming a question seems like too much work right now.
My lips feel numb.
My heart is racing.
And then he gets up and starts hauling me up and off the sofa. “Bed,” he whispers. “Come on. We both need to catch some Zs.”
Seriously?
He grins at me, satisfied and sated and way too alert after what happened. My muscles have turned to jelly, my knees won’t hold me. I feel as if the world was turned on its head tonight, and he acts as if we just took a tumble in the sheets.
Which is what we did… minus the sheets.
So there’s my answer. He didn’t feel it. Why should he, right? For him it wasn’t different than any other time.
I let Raine tug me into his bedroom, aware I should be resisting, insisting I’ll sleep on the sofa, but dammit, I’m still reeling from everything. And worse still, it’s just me.
Why did it hit me like this? Sure, I came as he fucked me, and that’s never happened before, but it was more than that. Is it because he enacted a scene from my dreams? Taking over, something that should have tripped all my wires and triggered all my panic reflexes but somehow didn’t, playing my body like a damn instrument, keeping his promise… Giving me no pain. Only pleasure, so much pleasure…
I shiver at the memory, my spent dick throbbing, as he pulls me on his wide bed, not quite a double but almost, and pulls the covers over us. He pulls me into his arms, shifting me until I’m on my side with his chest flush against my back—and again I should be going into a panic fit and I’m not.
Too lost in thought to pay too much attention. Because I shouldn’t be so fucking shaken. Sure, it was just sex. I’ve had sex every day of my life since I could get an erection. Scratch that, before even.
But this wasn’t just sex. It was so much fucking more. To me, at least.
And that’s exactly the problem. That’s what I wanted to avoid all along, falling this hard, forgetting about my mistrust, and who’s to blame?
Only myself.
Hush little baby in the cradle, the wind is blowing, the cradle will rock…
The words still humming in my ears, I jerk awake. I still feel blades cutting through me, burning as they sink into my skin and part my flesh.
Where am I?
I can’t move. Fuck, I’m tied up. Panic grips me, and I’m so cold my teeth are chattering. I struggle, although I know it’s useless, and God, I’m so tired of this. Always waking up in a panic, wondering where I am, what happened. If I’m safe. If I’m even alive.
Phantom pain dances all over my body. I swear I can feel every scar like an open wound, and I’d curl up and wait for the pain to pass, only I can’t fucking move. No matter how I twist and writhe, the bonds won’t give.
I groan, my eyes stinging and the back of my throat burning.
“Hey, what’s the matter?” a voice rumbles. The bonds shift, relaxing, and I jerk away, falling off the bed and slamming into the floor.
Christ. I sit up and try to crawl away, but my head hurts like rusty nails driving into my eyeballs, and my back aches where I hit it as I fell. I hunch over, bile rising in my throat, force myself to breathe.
Get a grip, Jason. Look around you.
A bedroom. Unfamiliar walls and I can’t remember how I ended up here, but the voice that spoke before… I know that voice.
A man rolls off the bed and comes to crouch in front of me, tall and broad-shouldered with tousled dark hair and bright blue eyes.
I nod, even as my throat closes up. It’s Raine. I’m safe.
Shit, I’m safe.
“Dammit, Jase.” He gathers me up in his arms, and I should be mortified, but I can’t feel anything else but relief. “What happened? Are you all right?”
I’m so far from all right it’s funny. I’m hanging on to him as if there’s emptiness yawning under my feet, and if he lets go, I’ll fall to my death.
That’s how it feels.
My face is mashed to his shoulder, my arms around his back. He’s rocking me, I realize with a jolt. A subtle back and forth movement. He’s humming something, but it’s not the ditty from my dream, thank fuck. That would have thrown me off the deep end screaming, for sure.
No, this is real, not a dream, and I’m clinging to him like a scared kid. I have to let go. I have to pull back.
“Tell me what you dreamed of,” he whispers against my neck and that finally does the trick.
I draw away from his warmth. “I’m fine.”
It will be a cold day in hell when I tell anyone about that dream, and speaking of cold… I rub at my arms. Being buck naked ain’t helping.
“You were trying to scream in your sleep,” he says gravely, those blue eyes candid and darkened with concern. He’s kneeling in front of me, naked, like me. Beautiful, though. Unscarred for the most part. Unblemished. Too damn kind.
“Just a bad dream.”
“Jase.” Another shiver goes through me, lik
e every time he calls me that. He puts his hands on my arms and rubs them, and I lean in, unable to help myself. “Did you think you were at Simon Gomez’s Club?”
Ah fuck. I pull away and grab at the mattress to heave myself up. His interest in Simon Gomez is dangerous. “No. I can’t remember what the dream was about. I should get—”
“It was something else, then. Something that scared you.”
Man, I don’t want to talk about this. Don’t want to remember—the dream, or the faint memories behind it. I get up and sit heavily on the bed. “I said I’m okay. And that I should get going.”
“Yeah, you said that.” He’s still kneeling there, almost at my feet. Impossibly handsome. Way too sexy. And despite this showdown, his dick is half-hard between his legs, and damn if the sight doesn’t send a bolt of lust straight to mine. “Don’t go.”
I bow my head and breathe out, my hands fisting at my sides. “Don’t play with me.”
“I’m not playing.” He licks his lips. “Go out with me.”
What? I shake my head. “We fucked, that’s all.” Sure, it was more to me, but who the hell cares? “This ain’t real.”
“What if I want this to be real?” God, his eyes are so damn blue. Hypnotizing. “To hold you in my arms all night, wake up with you in the morning. Kiss, and fuck, and keep the nightmares at bay.”
My nails bite into my palms. “Look, we both have nightmares. But that’s all we have in common. I’m a hooker. You hate that.”
His brows draw together, shadowing his eyes. “I want to strangle every guy who as much as looks your way, or thinks about touching you. Anyone who thinks about hurting you.”
See? I wanna say. This is crazy, and you know it. I should just laugh and leave. But his answer stops me short, and the laughter dies in my throat.
He means it. He really means it, and it’s fucking with my mind. As if it wasn’t messed up enough.
I take a bracing breath. “Raine, dammit… I can’t.”
There’s a fine tremor in his hand when he lifts it to shove hair out of his eyes. “I see.”
“No, I don’t think you do.” This is way too complicated, way too dangerous. But what comes out is, “You’ll leave me sooner or later. You’ll move on. But I…” My breathing is chopped, and my eyes burn like I’m about to fucking cry. “But I won’t.”
Oh fuck me, this is bad. Mortifying. And he hasn’t said another word, which only means I’m right.
I stumble out of the bedroom blindly, to look for my clothes. I find them in a pile on the floor of the living room, and flashes from the sex we had on the couch last night stop me for a second.
His voice behind me makes me start.
“Come back tonight,” he says, taking my hand and pressing something small and cold into my palm. I know it’s the key I dropped last night as we tore each other’s clothes off. “Look, the number written on the key is the code for the door downstairs. Come back. Say you will.”
I stare down at his hand over mine. I only promised to keep the key, not use it, and come on, I said it during sex. It can’t possibly count, and I should tell him that. Not to expect this of me. Not to expect anything.
But I find myself nodding instead. “I will.”
Part Three
HUSH little baby in the bedroom
The wind has stopped, the cradle is still
I’ll come with my knife and make you scream
One time, two times, three times, four
Five and then we go once more…
Chapter Thirty-One
Raine
Friday night, and my brain’s so scattered I spill the customers’ popcorn all over the counter, then give them back the wrong change. My boss isn’t around to breathe down my back, and that’s a blessing, because I’m shaking with nerves.
Fucking stupid. I asked Jason to come by, to stay at my place, and I don’t even know what to expect after last night. Will he take the sofa and not talk to me? Will he come to my bed and let me in again? Will he come at all?
Will he open up to me? After talking to Ocean—and Jesse—about Simon Gomez, I realized how little I know about his hold on Jason and how little can be done without that information.
Not that last night I had the presence of mind to grill him about it. Not that he’d reply. He’s skittish and wary, and the only way to get him to relax is to slow down and let him open up at his own speed.
If only I didn’t have this bad feeling churning in my gut, insisting that time is running out… Which is laughable. Why now? I’ll bet it’s just my lack of patience speaking, and not any real gut feeling. Jason looked good last night. Less bruised. More confident. He’s okay, and we will talk when he’s good and ready.
I have to have patience, tread gently.
But when I finally get home, after I spend two hours puttering about, preparing dinner, cleaning up the place, and he doesn’t show up… The bad feeling is back, and has me up and pacing.
Fear. It’s acid, eating at my stomach lining.
By ten at night, my cell phone is blowing up with messages from Ocean and the guys. We’re supposed to take our guests out, and I should join them.
I really should.
But no fucking way. Not tonight.
Please, let him come. I haven’t asked for that much in my life, and I don’t pray, not since my aunt ruined that for me, but I want Jason. So damn much.
Another hour passes. And he doesn’t arrive. I pace the length of my living room. I tell myself it shouldn’t surprise me. Nothing strange about him not showing up. I pushed and pushed for that promise.
Besides, he’s probably working, and the thought makes me sick. It makes me wanna break every piece of furniture in my apartment.
He was right. Maybe all we have in common are nightmares. Maybe I should give up.
Fuck that. What if something happened to him again? Last time I thought he was avoiding me I found him banged up and blue with cold on the street.
I’m gonna go look for him. Just to check he’s okay. And if he is, I won’t even invite him over. I’ll leave it up to him. He has the key to my home, and more. It’s up to him to use it.
Grabbing my jacket, I fire one last message to a pissed-off Ocean that I’ll join them tomorrow night. The event starts tomorrow, spanning the whole weekend, and of course I’ll be there. I work there, it’s my job.
Timing couldn’t be worse.
Anyway, one thing at a time. I open the door to get out—and find Jason right in front of me. He jerks back, eyes wide, and I hesitate, not sure how to handle this, even if my pulse is pounding in my ears.
The key I gave him glints in his hand. As he comes to a halt a few paces away, face flushed from the cold, I see that he has a duffel bag slung over one shoulder.
He’s here. He came to stay the night, like he promised.
Happiness shoots through me, and I grin at him. “You made it.”
A flash of surprise goes through his eyes, then something else I don’t have time to read before he nods and looks away. “You were going out. I can come back later.”
“I was going out to look for you.” I close the distance between us, grab his wrist and yank him to me. Distantly I hear the thud of his duffel hitting the floor. “No need for that now.”
His eyes have gone round. He grabs at my arms and gasps when I cock my head to kiss him. I hunt after his mouth, slant my lips over his, and he pulls me against him with a groan I feel all the way to my bones.
And other places.
Taste of spicy cinnamon gum and pot sweetness, and underneath it all Jason’s dark bitter licorice of sexy male. He lets me walk him back a few steps, then he shoves me right back, toward the apartment door.
I like the direction this is going. I really do. My back hits the doorframe, and I use the momentum to twist us around so I’m the one pushing him into my apartment.
He shoves at my chest. “My bag.”
Breathing hard, my dick hard to the point of pain and my ch
est strangely light, I jab a finger into a solid biceps. “Don’t move.”
His mouth quirks, and I shake my head at myself for feeling so ridiculously happy as I go fetch his bag from outside. I heft it over my shoulder, enter and kick the door shut with my foot. I put it down gently, although it’s light and feels filled mainly with clothes.
“Now,” I say taking his face in my hands, rubbing my thumbs over his mouth, “where were we?”
He grips my wrists as if he wants to yank my hands away, but he doesn’t. “Every time,” he whispers, “I tell myself I won’t come to you. And every single time I fail.”
“Why’s that?”
A slight roll of his shoulders. “I dunno.”
“You can’t resist me. Admit it.”
He sighs. “Really?”
I grin and press my forehead to his. “I’m irresistible.”
Maybe I’m pushing it. I fully expect a snarky comeback, and I’d deserve it.
But he closes his eyes and says, “You are.”
Well, damn. I resist the urge to throw him over my shoulder and carry him to bed. Barely. Not sure he’d appreciate that. “Compliments will get you anywhere. Jase—”