The door to his office was closed with light bleeding into the hallway from beneath. She didn’t knock. A turn of the knob and she entered. He sat behind his desk tapping away on his desktop computer. Hair tousled, as if he’d raked his fingers through the blond strands. Surprised, Harden looked up. Fear flashed across his face. “Is Allie…” His voice drifted as his gaze dropped to her body. “Okay?”
Jentry closed the door behind her and crossed to the bar built into the wall. “Allie’s fine. She had a good evening. Even stood up and took two steps.”
He sat back in his chair, watching her like the predator he was. “Really?” he drawled.
She poured him a whiskey. “Well, one and a half steps. and that was holding onto the coffee table. I embellished, so sue me.”
“You’re her mom, so you’re entitled.”
She brought him the drink and herself. Two empty chairs were in front of the desk. She chose to round the desk and place his drink within reach of him. She squeezed between him and the desk. He pushed back with the drink clasped in his hand and his gaze hungry. She scooted over and planted herself right in front of him, robe closed, legs crossed, skin exposed from her knees down to her toes.
“What’s this?” He sipped the whiskey, but his gaze was on her, sweeping from her head to her toes.
Uncertain if he meant the drink or her attire, she answered both questions. “A peace offering.”
He nodded and took a long draw on the drink. His Adam’s apple bobbed as the liquid slid down his throat. “The whiskey is the peace offering.”
His fingers trailed up the edge of the silk robe, his touch light. She didn’t feel it, but she had a vivid imagination and already knew his touch and what it did to her.
“What is this?” He tugged gently on the robe. “Is this part of the peace offering?”
Gaze flat along with his expression. She’d hate to play poker with him because he gave nothing away. “Well…” She wouldn’t use herself as a bargaining chip. “No. It’s not. This is me…”
Everything crashed in her head. Allie, Carl, Harden, the syndicate, it all came together in an emotional time bomb. She wasn’t a crier, hated tears, but sometimes… Sometimes tears had a mind of their own.
And God bless him, he let her cry, only his hand on her foot, providing a connection. She didn’t know how long it took for her to regain her composure and mop up with the tissue he provided. He waited, not saying a word until—
“Why the tears?” His voice soft, gentle.
She heaved a cleansing sigh. “I’ve always had to be strong. It’s second nature, I guess. A character flaw. Probably one of many.”
“Some would call that a strength. I certainly would.”
She smiled. “I didn’t have to be strong for Allie because you were there. My family was there for me also, my mom, my sisters, my dad. God knows, I needed them. But I needed you. It’s not that you did anything other than be there, but that’s what I needed. You gave me what I needed. Thank you, Harden.”
His gaze dropped to his fingers caressing the top of her foot. He stopped, his fingers sliding away. “That’s why you’re here? To thank me?”
She reached across the distance separating them to capture his face between her hands and raise his chin until their gazes met. “I’m here because I want you. I miss you. I…need you, Harden.” One hand dropped to her belt. One tug and the bow unfurled.
Those cold blue eyes went from below zero to twelve in seconds. In a blink, he scooped her off his desk, dropped her splayed thighs over his thighs.
Jentry had no time to react because he kissed her, deep and rough, his tongue slicing hungrily into her mouth. She responded with all the pent-up passion roiling in her veins. She held nothing back, kept nothing for herself, gave it all to Harden.
His hands went to her thighs, open wide for his access to whatever he wanted to touch. Oh, those rough palms of his set her aflame as they stroked from her knees to her hips, so much better than the silk on her skin. He shoved the lingerie out of his way as his hands traveled over her flat abdomen to her peaked nipples. They begged for his attention and received it when he bunched the silk under her chin and forced her to hold it.
It was torture, sweet torture, submitting to her nipples rolling between his fingers, then pinched ever so gently, and finally sucked into his hot mouth. Her clit throbbed, her pussy dripped with each caress, lick, suck until she whimpered. “Please.” Her back arched.
He took her mouth again, driving his tongue deep as one hand gripped her hip and the other skid down the center of her body. His fingers parted her slick flesh and delved into her wet heat.
“Jesus! You’re so…” His words were lost when two fingers plunged into her core. Together, they groaned. Her at the stretch she desperately craved. Him at the… “Tight, wet…” He pulled out of her body to lick her off his glistening fingers, then thrust his tongue back into her mouth. “Sweet.” He panted and trailed those two fingers down her body to the apex of her sex.
Jentry’s head snapped back and her hips snapped forward. The lingerie unfurled, shielding her body, but he didn’t need to see where his fingers had landed. They landed upon her sweet spot, her throbbing clit that now pulsed with each flick of his finger to the sensitive nub.
“Harden,” she cried, the sound broken, her need for him so consuming. “I wanna explode with you inside me.”
They reached for his belt at the same time. He knocked her fumbling hands away and had himself free in seconds. Seeing his turgid length, she faltered and couldn’t decide if she wanted him on her tongue and at the back of her throat, or deep in her pussy. His hands on her ass lifting and hauling her to him was the deciding factor.
Legs draped over the armrests, split wide open, with his hands on her ass, she balanced over his cock, waiting for that first touch, first stretch, first wounding fullness that robbed her of breath and coherent thought.
He breached her core—the stretch, exquisite—and didn’t stop until he bottomed out. Her hiss mingled with his groan. He kissed her and angled his hips downward ever so slowly, the glide hollowing her out, leaving her aching for him.
He slammed back home with the full force of a man whose self-control was gone. He fucked her hard, going deep, filling her, stretching her, his harsh groans reverberating in the office. His fingers gripped her ass. He kept her right where he wanted, to fuck her as he wanted, and she had no intention of going anywhere but right here. With him.
“Yes!” she shouted, her hands behind her on his knees, her body open to his use. However he wanted her, he could have her. He sunk lower in the chair, changing his angle again. His cock slid against the front wall of her pussy, hitting that spot again and again. That sweet spot that made her eyes cross, made her swear and give praise to the glory of good dick. Thank you, Jesus!
Over and over, he thrust into her, her moans escalating as her orgasm barreled closer. Her body convulsed. Her pussy clenched and her orgasm snapped, no buildup, just snapped and she was flying, soaring, lost in a bright white haze of bliss. He held her close else she melt in a puddle at his feet. His strong arms were the only thing keeping her upright while he pounded into her, each thrust more devastating than the last.
Somehow, through her orgasmic fog, she felt him swell within her slick channel. He stilled, went rigid, and with a sharp grown, his release splashed against her womb.
But he wasn’t done. He kept fucking her through both their blissed-out states. The wet sounds their merging bodies made had her coming all over again, a gentler, just as shattering orgasm as the first one, rippled up her spine, and left her a rung out, addicted mess when it finally dissipated.
Slowly, she came back to herself with his lips on her neck, his arms still locked around her, and his cock still inside her. And stiffening again with every heartbeat.
“More.” She breathed into his ear and rolled her hips. Another ripple traveled through her pussy and she rolled her hips once more chasing her new addiction.
“Yes,” he groaned between nips and soothing licks to her neck. “But not here.” Cock buried deep within her body, he grabbed her ass with both hands and picked her up.
With no choice, she wrapped her legs around his waist and held tight as he crossed the room. Each stride caused the iron bar wedged inside her to hit each corner of her pussy.
Jentry yelped and bit her lip at the surprising stretch. His lips found hers in a gentle kiss at complete odds with the strength surrounding and inside her.
The door opening and slamming into the wall snapped her out of her post orgasmic haze to realize they were in the hallway. She was impaled and they were in the hallway, with him striding toward the bedrooms.
Oh God! We’re not alone. His guards will see. Will know!
“Stop!”
He didn’t.
“Harden!”
Finally, he listened. But did he put her down? Nope. He pressed her back to the wall and rocked his cock into her until a moan crawled up her throat and eased out her mouth.
“We can’t—we can’t—”
“We can’t what?” Those cold eyes of his stared into her face. “This is my house. This is my pussy.” Another thrust. Another roll. Another moan. “I’ll fuck you where I want, when I want.” Another thrust. A slow, agonizing roll of his pelvis that left her stuttering. “Tell me I can’t, Jentry.” He licked into her open mouth. “Tell me, baby. Tell me you don’t want me to fuck you. Hard, deep. Go on. Tell me. Tell me I can’t have my pussy again.” His cock kept moving in and out of her open, willing body.
She couldn’t form words, never mind sentences, to string together any sort of protest.
“Besides”—he freed one hand to tuck the robe around her more tightly—“I’m a jealous bastard. I would never ever put you on display. “You’re mine. Understand?”
All she could do was nod and whimper as he made her ride him. Damn, she was about to come again. Off the wall, their journey continued across the expansive living room in full view of the two guards, who looked once and quickly averted their gazes.
She looked up to find him watching her with those cold eyes that blazed with heat. Cold fire that ignited every cell in her body. She fisted his shirt and brought him down for a kiss because if she belonged to him, he damn well belonged to her. “And you’re mine, do you understand?”
The corner of his mouth curled and that blue flame in his eyes blazed brighter. That was all the agreement she needed.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Sprawled on his bed naked because he’d stripped her the second the door closed, he watched his sperm leaking from between her splayed legs. Fuck! It was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen in his entire life. And he’d seen a lot.
Harden studied her. He wasn’t talking shit when he said she was his. He meant every word. She was his, only he couldn’t keep her. She couldn’t stay. Not with him.
Shit!
Her hands coasted over her flat abdomen. Then one hand traveled to cup a breast while the other slid to her soaked pussy. Enough, he thought. Tomorrow could wait. They had tonight. And if that were all they had, then so be it. Tomorrow a bullet may find him, but tonight, she was his and he was hers.
He yanked off his clothes and didn’t stop until he was as naked as Jentry. Dropping to his knees, he positioned her at the edge of the mattress and pushed her knees to her breasts. Her pussy was so pretty leaking his seed. The sight made him growl and reach to spread his seed into her plump folds and clit.
Something primitive snaked through his psyche and every possessive instinct rose to the surface. “Hands and knees,” he said, standing up.
Dazed from her orgasm, she blinked slowly at him. Quite pleased with himself, he chuckled and manhandled her into the position he wanted, which was her ass in the air with her hands and knees at the edge of the bed.
He paused in complete appreciation at the stunning sight of her bent over, ass with twin dimples at the base of her spine and her dripping pussy on display for him to kiss, lick, fuck, anything he wanted to do.
So damn pleased, he rubbed his free hand along her curves and slid his cock through her wetness. She hissed, arched her spine, and tilted her sweet ass for penetration, but he wasn’t quite done torturing her. He rocked against her clit once, twice.
“Harden.” His name was one long growl.
That’s what he wanted to hear, lust, pure and undiluted lust, the same lust driving him to notch himself at her entrance and thrust into her wet heat.
The feel of her gripping him was so fucking tight. “Yes.” Closing his eyes, he let his head drop back because it felt damn good.
He opened his eyes and looked down at her naked body to see PROPERTY OF CDJ and froze. It had been there all along, seen yet not seen, because he’d focused on her, not the tattoo. But somehow it was there, a glaring announcement of what she’d survived. Anger replaced the lust pumping through his arteries, racing through his veins.
The bastard was dead. As soon as Harden found what hovel sheltered him, he would be cremated, alive.
“Don’t stop.” She moaned and looked back at him. Now, Jentry froze, her eyes wide with growing horror because she knew what snagged his attention. A whimper ripped out of her throat, raw, anguished as all the pain she’d stored inside rushed out in a single broken sob.
“Don’t, baby.” He curled around her and held on. Just held her as sobs racked her body. So many words rushed to his mind. “It’s okay. It doesn’t matter. I don’t care.” All were true, yet all were a lie. It wasn’t okay some fucktard made her get a tattoo claiming ownership of her body. It did matter, otherwise she wouldn’t be crying in his arms. He did care. Oh fuck, did he care? Too many words and all of them useless platitudes as her heart bled out while shame consumed her.
So instead of platitudes, he showed her how he felt about her, and not the damn ink on her skin.
Harden slipped free of her sweet heat and urged her onto her stomach. He began at her nape, a simple kiss, lips meeting flesh. Then another kiss next to the first one. He took his time kissing her shoulders, leaving not an inch of skin unloved, including that damned tattoo.
“You are not this ink. This ink is not you.”
Her head angled to the right and her red-rimmed eyes found his.
“You are so much more than what that asshole tried to whittle you down to. You are Jentry Playne. A beautiful woman, mother, survivor, fucking badass.” …That I love.
Fuck! I’m so screwed.
“I am, aren’t I?” She sniffed and ran her thumb under her wet eyes.
“Yes. You. Are.” Each word was punctuated with a kiss down her spine. By the time he kissed each ass dimple, Jentry had her back arched, silently begging for him to continue.
Harden grabbed her hips and pulled her onto her hands and knees once more. His cock filled once more as he stared at the most perfect ass and pussy he’d ever seen. “I don’t give a fuck about Carl or this goddamn tattoo because you’re mine and I don’t have to ink your body to prove it. Do I, Jentry?”
Brown eyes locked on him. He palmed his cock and rubbed the turgid length between her soaked folds. A shudder ran through her body and transferred to his cock.
“Words, baby. I want to hear it,” he growled and rocked his cock across her clit.
“No.” A moan escaped her. “You don’t need any ink to prove I’m yours. Because I am, Harden. I’m yours. Now, stop teasing and put it inside me.”
So much for liking submissive women. He entered her body in an excruciatingly slow glide that tortured them both. Only when he was fully seated, his crown nudging her womb, did he curve his body around hers and give his hands free rein to travel up the flat plain of her stomach and cup her breasts, fondle her nipples, and grind into her welcoming heat.
The pleasure sang through his veins with each grunt and moan. Their voices combined in a carnal, primal dance as they moved together with single-minded intent. He thrust inside her, each time deeper, each time faster, th
eir pelvises slapping together in a no holds barred rhythm that rung full-throated cries from her throat. The sound of her pleasure made him feral, pushed him to push her to the absolute limits. She rolled her hips, made her ass dance, made his body stutter, drove him closer to exploding.
Jentry fisted the sheets and buried her face in the mattress and screamed as her pussy milked him, demanded he pump his seed into her womb. “Harden!” His name was a broken, raspy word, guttural, as if ripped from her soul.
“I’m here, baby.” He groaned and dug his fingers into her hips. He powered into her, losing control and his mind. He came and kept coming, his cock possessed until his balls were drained, his muscles were weak, and his vision winked.
“Jesus,” he croaked and slumped to the side, taking her with him, his cock buried where it belonged, home.
“Jesus about sums it up,” she said, sounding exhausted, and angled her head.
Needing her mouth on his like he needed air, he gripped her chin and kissed with all the love trapped in his heart. The morning would come too soon, and with the light of day, a new reality. Harden had to face the truth. Bruno was right. Jentry couldn’t stay. Regardless of what he wanted, she and Allie had to leave.
But not yet. He held her as her body went lax and sleep claimed her because he couldn’t let go. Not. Yet. Not when he’d just found her. He couldn’t let go. Not today and not tomorrow. A few more days wouldn’t matter. Would they?
Yes… Yes, they would.
Damn. His hold tightened in a desperate attempt to keep reality at bay. It was useless. The truth couldn’t be denied. To protect her and Allie, come morning, Jentry had to go.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
A chill raced down Jentry’s spine, followed by shivers streaking to her toes and fingertips. She didn’t want to wake but... Why was she so cold when she’d spent the entire night cocooned in warmth? In his arms. That’s right. Harden. She reached behind her to find an empty space. A cold space.
Plain Jane and Mr. Wrong (Plain Jane Series Book 4) Page 28