Breach of Contract (Kavanagh Family Romance Book 1)

by Elizabeth Miller

  “Hear my soul speak. The very instant that I saw you did my heart fly to your service, there resides, to make me slave to it,” he whispers, swallowing the rest of the passage.

  “Jayce.”

  “Maisie.” He rests his forehead against mine.

  “Why did you bring me to Hamilton?” I’m not sure he ever really answered me when I asked earlier.

  The dark curve of his lashes flutter against his cheeks and he sighs. “You keep pushing me today.”

  I smile while my hand finds the edge of his boxer briefs, only to slip under the waistband to caress his backside. “Tell me.”

  He pulls away, enough to scrutinize every detail of my face in the threads of light coming from the tree and through the window. The bruises beneath his eyes are less pronounced than they once were, as if he found the rest he was missing for so long. Tousled hair. Simple smirk. He’s a picture of casual elegance, blending perfectly with the loft’s rustic charm. Yet his smooth fingers dragging along my skin remind me of the suits he wears so well in the office.

  His mouth tightens into a line and right this second, he’s all business. “I brought you here because you’re gorgeous, inside and out. I brought you here to show you that. I’m going to prove you’re wanted, that all of our moments are as beautiful and bold as you are. That we can be us without fear of repercussion or censure. For you to see yourself as I do—kind, funny, and erotic. I want the same pulsing emotion that moves through my blood to flow through yours when we’re together. I’m going to push your limits, test your boundaries, make you feel all of the things you’ve been missing.”

  “Wow,” I say, my pulse already doing a good job of getting something going. “Thank you.” I murmur before pressing soft kisses on his chin, neck, and then lips. “For today. For being my boyfriend. And mostly, just for being you. Now, I have a surprise.”

  “What?” His hand slides down my stomach to my hip and around to grab my ass.

  “I had a spa night yesterday in my apartment. I shaved my legs,” I say as I spread them, making room for him between my thighs.

  He nods, bending to nibble my collarbone. “So smooth,” he mumbles into my skin.

  “I painted my nails.” I scape them down his back.

  “I like your nails.”

  “Then I waxed my pussy. All of it. Completely bare.”

  “Christ.” He groans and grinds into me, hard. “I love your pussy.”

  I’d laugh but dear Lord, I can’t think of anything but his mouth on my breast. Through my bra, he clips my nipple. Then he pauses. His breath steams my skin through the lace.

  After another heartbeat, he rises to his elbows. “Do you trust me, Maisie? No.” He presses a kiss to my opening mouth. So quick. Too quick. “Think about the question.”

  I don’t need to. “I do. I really do.”

  He’s up to his knees and then off the bed, his face hidden in shadow as he stalks to the corner of the room. Dragging an old wingback out, he positions it in front of a tall mirror.

  “Up,” he demands, hand out.

  I take it and he tugs me center stage where I stare expectantly into his brooding features.

  He sighs and cups my face between his palms, maneuvering me until all I see is him. “I’d like to play, peach. With you, for us. It will take trust, but you have all of mine.”

  “Tell me,” I whisper.

  “I’ll protect you. Always remember that.” Reaching for his jeans on the floor, he produces his phone. He swipes and clicks and then sets it on the dresser, horizontal and propped up against a stack of books. Before returning to me, he flicks on a lamp and I blink against the intrusion of light.

  A moment later, he’s behind me, slowly running his fingers from my throat to my hips where he twines our fingers together. “I want to make a movie.”

  “What—” I lick my lips and swallow. “You and me, together. On video?” A groan rumbles in my chest as I tug my hand free, pivoting to face him. His mouth is on mine a second later.

  “You can say no,” he mumbles against my lips.

  All I can think is yes. “Yes. Yes,” I say again and again.

  “Fuck,” he mumbles, his hands cupping my breasts. My breath gets stuck somewhere between awe and my ribcage.

  “You’re sure?”

  I nod, nod, nod as fast as the words can form. “I want this with you.”

  “Okay.”

  “What should I do?” I stare at him, my teacher. The man I’ve given everything to, and gotten the same from in return.

  “Don’t worry, sweetheart.” He takes my bottom lip between his teeth. “All you have to do is listen.”

  He steps away to start the video. “Sit.”

  I do, settling on the edge of the chair. He’s before me now, motioning for me to remove his briefs. They’re black and tight, molded to his ass and thighs. His thick cock sticks under the band and I have to work it free. When he pops out, rigid and flared at the crown, he grabs my hands and pulls them above my head. Instantly my tits push out, back arched, and he tilts my chin with his fingers. “You’re indecently sexy.”

  I take him in—naked, hard, drawn in shadows and light. He can see the longing and adoration I can’t hide. Right here, with his eyes on me, I fall completely in love with Jayce Kavanagh. My heart, it doesn’t hurt. It’s not confused. Not now that I know what it’s like to soar.

  He bends to give me his mouth, but stops just out of reach. “Everything you offer is for me and only me. Say it, peach.”

  The statement turns into a tug-of-war between us. His breath is mine. My soul is his.

  “Every piece of me if yours.” And I believe it. Every bit is the truth.

  He kisses me. Too sharp, too brief, and then he nods and moves behind the chair. “Lie back.” When I do, he drapes my hands over the top of the chair. “Hold them here, and don’t let go. Do you understand?”

  I nod, and he shakes his head. “Out loud. Tell me.”

  How could I forget his incessant need to know my thoughts, to hear the inner workings of my mind? If he was at all ready, I’d scream how I ache for him. Not just his big cock, but his heart and the feelings entangled inside.

  I exhale a jagged breath instead. “I won’t let go.”

  His eyes soften as he palms my breast, squeezing and then pulling the cup down to expose my taut nipple. It tightens farther from the brisk air and his hot stare. The other side follows suit before he taps my hip—an indicator to lift my body while he slides my panties off.

  He steps away with an appreciative smile. “I’m going to eat your pretty pussy, peach. When you come, you’ll say my name, always my name. But these.” He walks behind the chair and I find him in the mirror, his attention directed solely on me as he reinforces the bend of my fingers as they grip the blue upholstery. “These will stay where they are. Now, spread your legs. Show me.”

  I blink my focus from the bow of his bottom lip to the dip of my belly button, and then lower and lower as I open my thighs. Exposed, my pink flesh is on display and glistening under the weight of his scrutiny. I like to consider myself a confident woman, strong in stature and opinions. But in this moment, with my arms freely bound and the air cool on my naked skin, I’m helpless against the sheer desire in Jayce’s eyes. He groans, reaching for his cock. He strokes and squeezes it on his way to kneel before me.

  “Jesus Christ, you’re magnificent,” he whispers, while staring at my now-pulsing sex. “Tempt not a desperate man.”

  I expect him to touch me there, but instead, he reaches for my nipple, tugging so hard I gasp and arch from the chair.

  It’s clear he’s trying to kill me with the words of a poet, a borrowed family, and the reality of my fantasy brought to life. That’s his intent, but when his fingers drag down my quivering stomach and over my newly bared mound and then through my slick folds, I’m going to die the best death. A tortured, keening death that grips me as he strokes.

  He fucks me with one finger, slow and methodical, w
atching his slick digit enter and retreat. I’m so wet. So wet and needy. I keep my hands above my head but squirm, wiggle, and stretch in a demand for more friction. He denies me with an evil smirk. His lion eyes find mine while he leans in. When his tongue touches my clit, I muffle a scream against my arm. He pushes my legs open wider, stretching the muscles into a quivering strain. His nails dig in just as his mouth does.

  I watch him in the mirror, stimulated not only by his tongue and teeth but by the dark hair swaying between my legs. It’s so beautiful. He’s so beautiful and so am I, wiggling and panting beneath him. A sight I’ve imagined a thousand times before brought to life by the man I never believed could be mine.

  He uses the perfect pressure, the perfect tormenting variation of strokes and suction, the perfect dominance that has my hips swaying and tilting under his open mouth. I see it all, all of me on full display. My flushed cheeks and heavy breasts with rigid, aching points. I bend under the urge to pull my nipples, begging silently for him to do what I can’t because my wrists are willingly held above me. He groans. The vibration sends shockwaves from my core to my spine and I buck against him, needing him to touch me everywhere.

  His back and shoulder muscles tense as he devours me, eating away my struggle for control. When I give in, when I let the pleasure of his tongue consume me, an orgasm breaks wide open. “Jayce,” I moan, giving him what he wants. “Jayce, please,” I beg as I tremble and shake. He doesn’t stop tormenting my sensitive clit, sucking and licking the painful peak until my hands land in his hair to pull him away.

  “Oh, peach,” he murmurs, his lips slick as he removes my clenched fists. With a murderous glare, he forces them to the back of the chair and then he slaps my pussy. He slaps it hard. My spine arches through a silent cry. “I’m going to enjoy your punishment as much as you are. But first . . .” He licks a yelp out of me. “I want you to come again on my tongue.”

  “No.” I shake my head against the impossible request. “I can’t. I can’t.”

  “You can and you will.”

  He keeps his eyes on mine as he returns to his feast. God, I groan and clench the chair through his maddening open-mouthed kisses and his hands that smooth over my stomach to find my breasts. It’s too much. I fight against the pinch to my poor swollen nipples, moaning and undulating through the stinging pressure. As his brutal tongue works me over, my hips find his rhythm. We move to the same beat, the same strings that pull me taut and over the razor-sharp edge a second blissful time. “Oh, fuck,” I gasp, squeezing my thighs shut. But he follows as I squirm, holding me against his mouth to allow the silver tendrils of pleasure to paint my world a new color.

  “Look at you.” His gruff voice reaches through my stupor, but all I see is him bending to press a kiss to my inner thigh. The right and then the left. “You’re stunning. Maisie, you’re so beautiful.”

  “Oh.” Shit. I can’t protect myself from Jayce Kavanagh. He may have had control of my body through a contract, but he earned my devotion with sweet words and a firm grip on my hips and heart.

  I don’t have time to think about that, not with his mouth and tongue traveling over the expanse of my stomach, and not when he twists me to my knees or removes my bra.

  “Ready for your punishment, peach?”

  I moan the first time his palm lands on my backside. Heat sears through my skin and my pussy pulses on the other side of the sting.

  “How did that feel?” he asks, sinking his teeth into the smarting flesh.

  “Good. So good.” I lean into the next thwack and hiss my appreciation. Ten more, twelve in all leave me breathless and with a blistering burn on both cheeks. I ache with the want to fuck and be fucked. And feel. God, he’s making me feel everything.

  He kisses and licks his way along my back as his fingers slide through my slick folds, to my clit and around, and then in. I cry out and wiggle for deeper, harder. “Ah, my bad girl likes her spanking too much, I think.”

  I moan my agreement as his cock nestles against my opening, long and hard and tempting. “Please. I want you inside me.”

  “I know. I want that too.”

  Jayce pulls me to standing with my back against his chest and turns us slowly to face the mirror. I gasp and reach up and behind me to hook my wrists around his neck, tugging him closer.

  Lord, he’s sexy. Dark hair falls on his forehead, pointing to his eyes. Those intense, dangerous eyes drill down and find all my secrets.

  “Look at you,” he whispers, palming my breasts.

  I swallow a lump because I am looking. Pink in the cheeks and chest, naked and held—I’m a prize in his worshipping hands.

  “I don’t need to borrow Shakespeare’s words. Not for this.” Jayce presses his lips to my cheek, dragging them to my ear where I hear him and see his mouth move in our reflection. “Every line of your body, every stroke and curve was made by God’s paintbrush. It was his hand that created your beauty. He doesn’t get it wrong, peach. You are his masterpiece, and I am devoted.”

  Oh, my heart. It thumps as his words unhinge the lock on my feelings. Emotion floods my closed lids, and I turn my nose into his neck, breathing in long drags of leather and cinnamon and Jayce. Clarity comes with each breath. Today, Hamilton, his family, the video, his room and him—it’s more than an answer to my filthy fairy tale. He set out to prove that it doesn’t matter who believes I’m beautiful. The fact is, I am.

  “Thank you.” I said it before, but I mean it more now. I know what he’s done and the confidence he’s unhinged. I murmur my appreciation against his lips, along his tongue as it meets mine, and into his heart.

  Jayce settles on the chair, my ass to his bulging groin, my legs on the outside of his. I can’t help but stare at the raw sensuality of our form, open and bold. My fingers ache to touch him, but I don’t dare mess with the picture he’s created. Reaching between us, he grabs his cock, the flared head purple and weeping pre-cum. He groans my name as he rubs it through my folds, his wetness mixed with my own as he taps my clit.

  “Oh, God. I like that. I like that so much.”

  “Yeah?” His heated eyes meet mine in the mirror. “You like how my cock feels against your sweet, wet cunt? You do, my filthy, beautiful peach. And how about when it’s here, pressing into your tight, little hole? How does it feel when I spread you open? Just like this.”

  I nod, because I can’t speak. I can’t do anything but tug him closer, pulling him into the stretch, the slow burn to fullness. He presses and retreats, teasing me into a blubbering, begging mess until my hips take over and I work him in, fuller, tighter, deeper.

  “Look at that,” he says, sliding out of my pussy to stroke his erection. “Soaking wet. You made a mess of my cock. Fuck, peach. You have no idea what that does to me.”

  I groan and throw my head back on his shoulder.

  Laughter rumbles in his chest. “So impatient. How’s this?”

  Adjusting his dick at my entrance, he grips my waist and slams me down. I cry, stretched open and pulsing with a surprise orgasm. It ripples along my spine and around him, drowning out his groan and my jumbled appreciation.

  When sanity returns, I sink my fingers into his silken hair and tug his lips to mine. He licks into my mouth as he rocks me on his cock back and forth.

  “You’re so goddamn tight after you come.” His jaw clenches.

  I’m speechless, but I don’t think he expects an answer when he holds me up and from below, then slams into me. I’d like to say I help him fall apart. That it’s my sexual prowess that has him growling and panting, his breath coming in short puffs on my shoulder. But it’s Jayce. He’s giving me everything. Everything. He pumps his hips, driving into me in long, deep strokes. Every muscle in his body clenches and flexes under the strain. He glistens with sweat. I turn and lick his jaw, bite his neck, and take the salt from his skin. “So good.”

  He groans when I pull my nipples. He growls when it’s my clit. First rubbing myself and then placing my fingers on either side o
f his slick cock before he plows into me again. He fucks me so hard. So hard and deep I can’t catch my breath or gather my thoughts. I’m numb to everything but pleasure and his grip on my waist, to the animalistic sounds he makes at the back of his throat.

  “Not yet, peach. Don’t you fucking go without me this time.”

  I’ll wait for you forever. Please. “Please.”

  His cock swells. He pumps in and out in wild, frantic thrusts that match the staccato rant of my begging pleas. I need to come.

  I squeeze my eyes shut when it’s his hand between my legs. When it’s his fingers on my swollen clit. When his teeth sink into the soft flesh connecting my neck and shoulder and stars burst behind my eyes. He thrusts up and presses me down, grinding so deep inside me I see the sun and scream my greeting.

  Jayce jerks behind me, a long growl let loose into my hair. His dick twitches; his heart pounds. He’s everywhere. He’s given me everything.

  “Do you see that, Maisie?” He pants in my ear. “Do you see us? How beautiful we are together?”

  “Thank you.” I press a kiss to his damp neck. “Thank you,” I say again and again. Because I do. I see us so clearly and I don’t need a mirror.

  I feel it all.

  Everything.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Three Empty Words” 3:20

  Jayce

  “WHAT ARE YOU doing?” I mumble as I wake. Not that I want Maisie to stop, God no. In fact, my fingers glide through her hair to keep her in place, to keep her bobbing head in place. She breaks away and I groan.

  “I’m giving you a blow job. A very merry Christmas blow job.”

  “You were. Past tense.”

  She licks from root to crown. “You ask, I answer. Now shush and let me finish. I like the way you taste.”

  “Yeah?”

  Her response is drowned out when she swallows me whole. Christ. This girl. She burrowed her way right inside my heart, and it doesn’t hurt a bit. Sweet, bold, passionate Maisie is what I never knew I needed. And, now I need her more than air.