by Lynda Chance
He couldn't stop the shudder, even now, just thinking about it.
And it had only gotten worse, as the days went on. She had him exactly where he'd never intended to be. Hung up on her, jealous over her, wanting to own her, body and soul.
But he'd be damned if she'd control him. He did things his way, all the way. He would be in control of this relationship. But it had upset her to know he'd thought about getting laid. And he didn't want her upset. So she wanted exclusivity? Not a fucking problem. He could give her that, because evidently, as he'd proven tonight, he didn't want to fuck anybody else, anyway.
But she was his, and she needed to learn that fact, memorize that fact, like now. He wasn't going to put up with guys drooling over her gorgeous little body in a string-fucking-bikini. Wasn't. Going. To. Happen. She wanted to wear it when he was around to shoot the other guys down? Fine. Not a problem. But she wasn't wearing it when he wasn't around.
With emotions running high and knots of tension shifting through his nervous system, he set out now to both soothe her and to get his way. "Don't cry, sweetheart." Reaching up, he wiped the tears away from her face. "We've had a fight, that's all." He purposely kept his voice gentle, and it didn't escape his notice that he was doing exactly what he'd told her only a few weeks ago that he'd never do. Seduce her into doing what he wanted, even if it meant having to bare his soul. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you." He lifted her chin and locked her eyes with his. "It won't happen again, I swear to God. I don't know what I was attempting to prove . . . I'm so fucked-up over you. This thing between us, it wasn't what I signed on for but I can't fight against it. All I want is you. You're all I ever think about and I . . . I almost vomited when that skank sat beside me and touched me. I thought about doing her. I'm ashamed to admit it, but I thought about it. But just as soon as the thought hit my head, I felt like I was cheating on you, and I hadn't even done anything yet. Just the thought of fucking her felt like a betrayal, and I almost physically threw up. And then . . . then I felt guilty and mad and totally fucked-up, and I drove around for hours. I'm sick of fighting it, I'm sick of fighting against it. I want you, and I want to touch you, all of you, and I promise, I'll never fuck up again."
Connor's rambling words came to a halt, and he waited, uneasy, for some kind of response from Jessica. She looked totally blind-sided, and he used the moment to press for even more. Dropping a kiss on her lips, he asked, "Will you come home with me tonight? I need to get away from here, away from this apartment, but I have to have you with me. Get your stuff and come with me, okay?"
She started nodding her head, quick little movements, up and down, and she said simply, "Okay."
He released her arms, and she stepped away and began gathering her belongings.
****
It was late, and the traffic was light as they left the suburb of Richardson and boarded the George Bush Expressway. Connor had never, not even once, mentioned where he lived in all the weeks she'd known him, and he'd certainly never mentioned taking her there before.
There was no conversation between them as they travelled along, each in their own thoughts. Jessica wanted to ask him where he lived, but his mouth was set in a harsh line, and she knew she'd find out before too much longer anyway. She'd been living in the area for over two years now, and although she didn't own a vehicle of her own, Allison did, and the two girls had explored the area in a wide circumference all around the university campus. So when Connor left the expressway and began travelling north on I-75, Jessica continued to recognize her whereabouts. He'd already told her where his company was located, and as they travelled north, continuing farther into an area known as the telecommunications corridor, it all made sense to her that this was the area of town where he would live.
Before too long, he left the interstate and drove into a gated, upscale neighborhood in Plano, another suburb within the DFW metroplex. Feeling her nervousness escalate, she sat still as he pulled into a three-car driveway and pressed a button on his dash that raised the garage doors. Automatic lights lit up the interior, and Jessica was surprised to see what amounted to piles and piles of stacked boxes taking up an organized space of one entire bay. She made no comment about them, although her curiosity was piqued. Connor cut the engine and within minutes he was helping her out and they were walking into the house from the rear entrance. She carried her backpack over her shoulder, stuffed with clothes and toiletries, and as they walked through, he unhooked it from her arm and relieved her of its weight. There were a few lamps that had been left on, so they weren't walking into total darkness. But she still had little time to take in her surroundings, because Connor dropped her backpack to the floor and without any preliminaries, hoisted her at the waist and dropped her over his shoulder as if she were booty he'd won and began carrying her down a long hallway.
Entering a darkened room, he flipped her to her back on the middle of the bed, where she promptly scrambled to a sitting position. He moved toward another door that she imagined was the bathroom, and turned on a light that cast a soft glow over the bedroom. His gaze locked on hers where she sat, and as he continued to stare into her eyes, he began stripping. He made quick work of it, and came to stand at the foot of the bed. "Clothes--off."
A sharp spiral of heat rushed through Jessica at the brusque command so like the ones he'd given her a month ago. But unlike the dread and trepidation she'd felt then, now arousal and anticipation coiled in a knot in her stomach. Licking her lips and containing a tremble of need, she slipped her shorts and panties down her legs and let them fall to the floor. He continued to watch her in silence, potent sexual chemistry beating hot and heavy in the air around them. Still unsure about displaying her body so boldly, she grabbed at one of the pillows and pulled it around to hug in front of herself, effectively hiding herself from him.
He growled a low warning in his throat, and the heat she felt slid down her spine and coalesced into a knot of arousal that landed in licks of fire between her thighs.
As he looked down at her, he adjusted his stance and his pectoral muscles came into bold prominence as his eyes narrowed and his gaze became more pointed. His erection jutted out from his body, swollen and rigid. "I want the shirt off, Jessica." He punched the words out in a harsh, demanding tone.
Her heart began pounding in her chest, arousal humming below the surface, trying to break free. She wanted to give him what he wanted, but there was still too much between them. "What about what I want?"
His eyes became hooded, his body held in inflexible bands of steel. "What do you want?"
What she wanted above all else was to know him, to get close to him, but he always kept that invisible line between them. "If I have to be naked, then you--you need to start m-moving in that direction to." That took everything she had to say, and she couldn't contain the tremble in her voice.
His brows pulled down in a frown, and he motioned to himself with one hand, sharply and impatiently, indicating his nude body.
She shook her head. "That's not what I mean."
"What then?" he asked, edginess rumbling from his voice as his shaft jerked and throbbed.
She inhaled deeply. "I'll take my shirt off, if you answer a question for me," she negotiated softly.
His eyes dropped to the pillow that hid her lower torso from him, and then slid up to her breasts hidden beneath her t-shirt. His nostrils flared and he hissed out through gritted teeth, "What question?"
Jessica steeled her nerves and asked, "You know what forced me into our relationship, so I'd like to know why you wanted it, as well." At his silence, she reiterated, "What made you want our . . . arrangement?"
There was a second there when she actually thought he would answer her. He inhaled sharply and his eyes left hers to settle somewhere to the left of her. He pushed his hand through his hair and then gripped the back of his neck.
The seconds ticked by, and the silence in the bedroom became deafening, the tick of a clock resonating loudly, underlining the absence of
any other sound in the room. As the moment wore on and it became apparent he wouldn't answer her, heartache joined the arousal bleeding through her veins, and she wanted more than anything to soothe away the tormented look in his eyes. As he stood in silence, she almost gave in to him; she knew she was only seconds away from coming to her knees and lifting her shirt over her head. She wanted to say, 'never mind', and take away the condition she'd put on the gift of her body.
But she never got the chance.
His eyes fell back on her, and the menacing accusation she read in them rendered her completely still. His shoulders stiffened and his muscles became like sinewy bands of steel. Fire smoldered in his eyes and his stance became one of iron control. His voice when he spoke was primal, his intentions coming out loud and clear. "Leave the fucking shirt on, then."
Chapter Nine
Connor was on Jessica in a second, pulling the pillow away from her body and throwing it violently across the room. He flipped her over with a punishing move that took her by surprise and landed her on her stomach. It had the opposite effect on her than when he did the same thing weeks ago. The arousal that had stayed under the surface came over Jessica in a wave of longing so fast and hard that she mewled into the mattress. She heard an answering growl come from his throat as he wrapped his arm around her waist and jerked her up to her knees.
Currents of sensation slammed her down low, and she felt moisture between her thighs. He pushed her knees apart and came between them, pushing so close that she felt completely dominated by his much larger body. He was so much bigger than she was, and he was using his size to control her now.
She should hate it, she really should. But she couldn't. She waited restlessly for the moment he'd sink into her, dying to feel that exact moment when he'd stretch her and push past the restrictive tightness of her body until she felt his fullness completely.
Her heart beating wildly, she felt him push that first inch inside of her--but then he stalled. His torso came forward and covered her, his head fell to the side of hers and he hissed in her ear, "You want it, Jessica?"
Her breath hitched and she tried to push up and backwards, tried to grip him between her legs so he'd sink further inside of her. But she couldn't, he was holding her with one arm wrapped around her waist and it felt like a band of steel. He controlled her every movement and denied her the ability to even so much as rock her hips toward him.
"Answer me. Do. You. Want. It?"
"Yes," she begged on a whisper.
He pushed another inch inside and loosened his arm just enough so she could have at least some slight movement. She pushed against him and began panting. She was aware of his breathing as it became louder, next to her ear.
And then he stopped again. His arm around her middle moved down and his hand snaked lower and landed on her clit. He pushed his erection all the way inside of her with one smooth, relentless thrust and then he began rubbing her clit in circles with steady strokes of his fingers. Intoxicating pleasure rushed through her. He pinched and pulled at the small nub in a movement he repeated until she began splintering underneath him. She screamed out her orgasm, and he let her milk it for a few long seconds before pulling out of her and flipping her over to her back.
He shoved back between her thighs, and then lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist. Threading his fingers into her hair, he lifted her face and as his eyes tangled with hers, began sinking inside of her once more.
His eyes continued to hold hers, and when he was completely impaled within her body, his gaze dropped to her lips. His eyelids closed, and then opened again, his eyes on hers again, as his body remained still. His voice when he spoke was tortured. "You don't have a clue what you do to me . . . not a fucking clue how bad I want you."
For a moment, Jessica saw into his soul, and she knew that however they had started off, it wasn't that way between them any longer.
She was trapped underneath him, but her hands were free, and suddenly, she knew what she wanted to do. It was only a small thing really, but in this moment, she wanted to ease his torment however she could.
Her hands landed on the hem of her shirt and she began wriggling underneath him. It took a moment to get through to him that she wanted him to lift up and when he raised himself an inch, it was all the leeway she needed to slide the shirt up and over her head.
Jessica tossed the shirt away, and when she turned back, his nostrils were flaring and his eyes were narrowed on hers. She expected him to focus on her breasts immediately, but he didn't. His hands wrapped around her face, staring down at her, and he began moving his hips, slowly at first, pushing into her and pulling out again, over and over, all the while, staring into her eyes.
It was an intimate act, the closest she'd ever felt to another human being, and the breath jerked from her lungs. Just when she thought she'd have to close her eyes against the intensity, his mouth dropped to hers and he began kissing her, softly, repeatedly, over and over again.
Finally, she had to turn her head away to draw oxygen into her lungs, and when she did, he slid down and fastened his mouth on her nipple. Rasping her with his tongue, he moved his head from one nipple to the next until they formed tight, pointed peaks and desire, hot and brilliant, flooded through her pelvis once again.
He took one breast into his hand and held it, running his fingers over the tip, and then palming it completely. His mouth on her other breast blew wet heat across her nipple, and then moved to the white flesh above it. He began sucking her there, and his mouth was hot and forceful, as he used his lips and tongue on her.
The combination of that and the tight grip he held on her other nipple was relentless and she began lifting her hips, answering back against the thrusts he was taking.
Once again, orgasm washed over her, hot and hard, and the pleasure was intense as it screamed through her body. She heard her voice, high pitched and raspy, as if from a distance, and then she felt him push hard against her and hold himself there, and in the back of her mind, beyond all the pleasure, beyond the intimacy, she knew they were coming together.
****
It was late, and they slept the rest of the night, entwined together. And in the morning, Jessica left him sleeping in the bed and went to retrieve her backpack where he'd dropped it the night before.
She walked back to the bathroom, intending to have a quick shower before he woke up. Shutting the door behind her, she turned and faced the mirror, and looked at her hair, which was a tangled mess. Her eyes dropped down her naked body, and what she saw there made her heart lose a beat before it began slamming in her chest once again.
He'd marked her! And not just a small purple area where he'd left a hickey. The top of her right breast was covered in dark red bruises. All over, from her nipple up to the top swell of her breast, he'd covered her in red and purple hickeys.
She walked closer to the mirror and touched herself lightly. It didn't hurt, but she didn't know how she felt about it. She'd never dated much, if at all, and she wondered at the whole reason behind what he'd done. The only experience she'd had with a hickey was the one time she'd been about fifteen and she and a bunch of her girlfriends had met some boys at the movies and they'd paired up on the back row. The boy she'd kissed that night had left a hickey on her neck, and it was the only one she'd ever received until now.
Of course, in high school, she saw hickeys all the time, on both guys and girls. But it was always on the neck, and it had never occurred to her that a man would put a mark on a woman somewhere that no one else would be able to see it.
It also amazed her that she hadn't known he was doing it. She remembered having a vague awareness that he was sucking on her breast, but the way he was doing it, and the other things that were happening kept her mind from focusing solely on his mouth at her breast.
But he had to have done this on purpose. As she showered, she tried to figure out the puzzle. She knew it had to be because she'd denied him her breasts for so long, and this had to be a remin
der to her that she had given them to him, that they were now his. She felt a slow slide of pleasure at the knowledge.
Finishing her shower, she wrapped her wet hair in a towel and slipped clean clothes from her backpack. She was supposed to start her job on Monday, so that left only today and tomorrow to figure out what she was going to say to him. She had to tell Connor about the job, at the very least, because she had to get back to Richardson and her apartment, which was so much closer to the grocery store. He'd have to go to work on Monday, anyway.
She brushed her teeth and worked the tangles out of her hair, and then finished up with a moisturizer on her skin. She walked out of the bathroom and looked over at the bed, and found him lying on his side with his head propped up on his hand, looking directly at her.
His features were harsh and compelling in the morning light, and the unbidden image of what he'd done to her breast and the way he was looking at her now sent a sizzle of raw attraction down her spine.
But she didn't want to get back in that bed with him right now. By the looks of him, that was exactly what he wanted, but his persuasion was something she felt the need to fight against for the moment. She wanted to reclaim some small part of herself this morning, and his bed was definitely not the place to do that.
She felt a shiver of gooseflesh over her skin as she arrowed a small smile in his direction and then began to walk from the room.
"Where do you think you're going?" His voice, even deeper than usual first thing in the morning, halted her in the doorway of the bedroom.
Turning to look over her shoulder, she said as casually as she could manage, "I'm going to check out your house." And then she continued out of the bedroom, making her escape from him, at least momentarily.
****
The house was all on one level, a split floor plan with the master on one side and three smaller bedrooms on the other. It was an executive home, with all the space and amenities one could expect. It was divided in the middle by a great room, with soaring ceilings and a wall of windows that looked over an enormous backyard with a gorgeous swimming pool and spa--and the obvious reason Connor had told her to bring her swimsuit. Jessica slipped outside to explore the yard. The pool contained a water feature, a rock waterfall that added to the beauty of the yard, and it was all enclosed within a six-foot high wooden fence.