Street Game
Page 28
“Damn you, Jaimie,” he growled and lifted her h*ps toward his face and buried himself in her.
She cried out, a harsh, broken sound, as he swept his tongue over and into her damp, hot core. His tongue pushed deep, seeking her exotic taste. He’d craved this for so long, her wild, exciting flavor. Nothing else could ever satisfy him. Her cries, her shuddering, thrashing body, soft like silk, hot as hell, all for him. He knew exactly where to touch her, an instinct he possessed, had always possessed, but now it was far more acute. Each stroke of his tongue, each stabbing twist, an artist’s flick, the lapping of a cat, all brought sensual writhing and soft, sobbing gasps of mindless pleasure.
No one could ever replace Jaimie and the unreserved way she gave herself to him.
She arched her body into him and pleaded for more, nearly as insane with arousal as he was. He sank a finger into her as his tongue teased at her clit. He used the edge of his teeth and she came apart, her muscles squeezing, clamping down hard so that his c**k pulsed in anticipation.
It wasn’t enough for him. “More,” he insisted, his voice harsh with lust. “Give me everything, Jaimie, all of you.”
His tongue swept deep, licking and sucking, giving her no respite, demanding she go higher, taking her to new heights, driving her up fast and hard. Her body shuddering, she dug her heels into the floor and tried to squirm and thrash out from under him, but he held her firmly, lapping and sucking, devouring the nectar spilling from her body. His. All for him.
Her energy bled into his, surrounding him, connecting them closer so they seemed so wrapped in each other, he wasn’t certain where she started and he left off. He already had a taste of what life was like without her and he wasn’t willing to ever go there again. He was determined to bind her to him again.
Her stomach muscles bunched beneath his spread fingers and her voice strangled in her throat as her body locked, clamping down like a vise and then flying apart.
“Mack,” she sobbed his name, still trying to move out from under him even as her h*ps pushed into him.
“That’s right, honey. Mack. There is no one else for you, only me. Always me.”
He bent his head a third time to her, feasting, and she orgasmed again, a wild, broken cry escaping her throat.
He knelt up, dragged her to him, lifting her h*ps as he drove himself deep, drove himself home, her sweet sheath, hot and tight surrounding him. He belonged. She was home to him and always would be. She was everything. His other half. Her body gripped his, clamping down hard, squeezing and massaging. He pulled back and her soft cry of denial was music to him. He positioned her legs over his arms, giving himself more control and more leverage.
“Jaimie, look at me.”
He saw her throat convulse. She turned her head, the mass of damp black curls spilling like skeins of silk around her head. Her skin was covered in a fine sheen, her eyes dazed from the continual orgasms he demanded from her—extracted from her.
“Keep looking at me,” Mack commanded. “I don’t want any mistakes made about who you’re with. About who you belong to.” He drove deep through the tight, velvet folds, snapping his teeth together as fire streaked through him. She was scorching hot and getting hotter, if that was possible. He lifted her h*ps as he hammered down, imprinting his body in hers, reclaiming her, making certain she knew that claiming was what he was doing.
He refused to allow her to look away from him. His gaze held hers captive as his hands gripped her h*ps and his body took possession. A low, broken cry escaped again as he levered himself over her, his rhythm strong and hard, each stroke deep and deliberate, dragging over the sensitized bundle of nerves again and again, gentle and then rough, at once a caress and a harsh demand.
Her breath came in ragged gasps as he increased his pace, rebuilding the tension inside her, coiling her tighter and tighter, pushing her further than she’d ever gone with him before. Her head tossed, but her eyes never left his. She clung as if he was her only anchor, her nails biting into his shoulders like brands, sending him even higher. He drove between her damp thighs with a kind of fury, a rhapsody of torment and pleasure for both of them.
Jaimie couldn’t break his hold on her and she knew exactly what he was doing—
proving to her that she would never have this, this absolute torturous bliss, with any other man. No one could nearly kill her with pleasure, drive her so insane she couldn’t think, only feel, only burn hotter and hotter until she was desperate, afraid she’d burst into flame from the inside out.
The energy binding them together increased the sensitivity of her already passioninflamed body, but more, she could feel his body, every stroke of his velvet-encased steel shaft slamming home, filling and stretching her, streaking fire through both of them. She felt his lust rising like a tide. She felt his anger as he hammered home the point—his. She was his. She would always be his.
She never wanted him to stop, although fear snaked through her, attacking on a visceral level. He would own her again. She’d managed to survive without him the first time, but now their union was even more explosive. There would be no letting another man touch her. It would never happen. The thought sickened her. It was Mack. Only Mack, taking her over, proving to her that she was nothing without him.
He didn’t give her time for coherent thought, jerking her legs up over his shoulders as his h*ps pistoned ferociously, driving him into her again and again. His face was etched into a harsh mask, his sensual lips over bared teeth as his breath hissed out, but his eyes always dominated, demanding she not look away from him.
Commanding her in a way that both thrilled and frightened her because she couldn’t stop herself from taking what he gave her. She wanted him like this, wild and out of control, forcing her far beyond every comfort zone she’d ever known.
Her greedy body spilled hot nectar around him, clutched and grasped with evertightening muscles. Hotter. Always hotter, the inferno in her building until she thought her life would be forfeit. She could hear inarticulate pleading coming from her throat—for what, she wasn’t certain. More. To stop. No, never that. She wanted him hammering into her, the sound of their bodies coming together in a ferocious tango. She had to have this, have him.
She writhed, tossed her head, bucked her h*ps in a wild bid to meet his madness, to force his finish, to take him the way he was taking her.
“Now, Jaimie, for me. With me.” He hissed the command through clenched teeth, his gaze piercing hers straight to her soul. Taking her. Capturing everything she was, would ever be, into his keeping, including her ability to orgasm.
His heavy shaft stroked over her inflamed, swollen bud and she exploded; wave after wave of intense sensation surged through her. Her muscles clamped down around his thick, hammering c**k in a painfully erotic vise. Her body tightened more and more, until she thought she’d shatter into a million pieces. Her back arched. Her h*ps bucked, every muscle went stiff. She opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out. The orgasm tore through her body, shredding every idea she’d ever had of lovemaking. The explosion tore through her womb, rushed through her stomach like a rolling fireball, into her br**sts, down her thighs, as wave after wave hit her.
Just as she thought she’d hit the peak and the rolling ecstasy was subsiding, her body gripped his even harder and hot seed splashed deep, triggering another, even more powerful inferno that engulfed her completely, sweeping her body into a frenzy of flames so that she writhed, so that strangled cries emerged. Her heart pounded and her lungs burned. She burned.
She couldn’t look away. Couldn’t break his hold on her, and she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was proving a point. He gave her what he wanted to give her. Lust, brutal and strong and controlling, such pleasure she might not survive it.
He’d give her his protection. But it was going to be on his terms, not hers.
“Don’t you ever f**king leave me again, Jaimie,” he whispered hoarsely, his gaze boring into hers. “Do you understand me?”
She had no voice; she might never be able to speak again. She licked dry lips and managed a nod while deep inside, where no one could hear, she was screaming.
Mack searched her face for a long time before he seemed satisfied. He collapsed over the top of her, sprawling on her as he used to do. It was only then that she realized he still had his clothes on. She was completely na**d and she hadn’t even realized he was nearly fully clothed until she felt his weight blanketing her. The material hurt her sensitive skin and he must have known it because he nipped her chin with his teeth, and then pressed a kiss over the sting before rolling off of her.
Jaimie closed her eyes as she flung one arm across her face. There was no hiding.
She couldn’t pretend away the breathless cries or her ragged breathing as she fought for air. There was no way to fake her response to him. He knew exactly what he did to her. He lay next to her, one arm wrapped possessively around her waist, just as he had done so many times before while she lay wishing sex—great sex, mind-blowing sex—would be enough to sustain her, but knowing it would never be.
She hoped he’d go to sleep just like the many other times he’d worn himself out again and again until neither could move and then, without saying a word to her, he’d wrap her up in his arms and fall asleep. Now she didn’t want to talk, and he was stirring.
She’d always loved him, from the first moment she’d seen him, so big and sure of himself. So completely confident. Just the opposite of her. It had been hero worship all those years ago and Mack had treated her like a puppy, a little girl all eyes and a mop of curly hair with a brain too advanced for her years. He’d seen her through all those awkward times with a casual protection that evolved into something fierce and primitive.
Jaimie had always wanted to belong to him. She had been desperate to belong somewhere—anywhere—all her life, and there was Mack. He was everything she didn’t have. And it was dangerous to be desperate, to love someone too much. She didn’t think that was possible until right at that moment. She lay na**d on the floor of her workroom, her heart pounding, head roaring, weeping inside. She wasn’t strong enough to resist him, and she never would be.
“I can feel your energy, Jaimie,” Mack said softly and turned his head to look at her.
The jolt, the thrill, she got every time he focused on her was pathetic. His eyes seemed to look right into her soul, a silly cliché, but Mack could make her feel like the only woman in the world just by looking at her.
“I know. You’re right, my talent is getting stronger. And I’m not screaming in pain. You were able to shield me.” She was screaming in pain, he just couldn’t hear her. “I guess we’re both growing stronger.” She didn’t get as much control of her voice as she would have liked, but if she was lucky, he would put the tremor down to regaining her breath.
He pushed himself up and looked around for her clothes. His hands were unsteady as he caught up her shirt. “There’s something magical that happens when we’re together.”
It was the last thing she expected him to say. Her breath caught in her throat.
Mack didn’t say things like that. He didn’t have an ounce of the poet in him. He was all warrior, slashing eyes, grim, tough face, sure of himself. She could only nod her head, her throat closing unexpectedly.
“Sit up, baby. We made enough noise down here to bring the cops, let alone all the boys. We need to get you dressed.”
She felt the color sweep up her neck. He meant she’d made a lot of noise. She couldn’t remember, but she might have begged him not to stop. Loud. Very loud.
There might have been a scream or two punctuating the pleading. She wasn’t certain she was ready to face him.
“I know I’m not good at talking to you the way you want, Jaimie,” he continued, his voice low as he tugged the T-shirt over her head. “I’m not exactly a smooth talker like Lucas, but I mean what I say.”
She cried out, a harsh, broken sound, as he swept his tongue over and into her damp, hot core. His tongue pushed deep, seeking her exotic taste. He’d craved this for so long, her wild, exciting flavor. Nothing else could ever satisfy him. Her cries, her shuddering, thrashing body, soft like silk, hot as hell, all for him. He knew exactly where to touch her, an instinct he possessed, had always possessed, but now it was far more acute. Each stroke of his tongue, each stabbing twist, an artist’s flick, the lapping of a cat, all brought sensual writhing and soft, sobbing gasps of mindless pleasure.
No one could ever replace Jaimie and the unreserved way she gave herself to him.
She arched her body into him and pleaded for more, nearly as insane with arousal as he was. He sank a finger into her as his tongue teased at her clit. He used the edge of his teeth and she came apart, her muscles squeezing, clamping down hard so that his c**k pulsed in anticipation.
It wasn’t enough for him. “More,” he insisted, his voice harsh with lust. “Give me everything, Jaimie, all of you.”
His tongue swept deep, licking and sucking, giving her no respite, demanding she go higher, taking her to new heights, driving her up fast and hard. Her body shuddering, she dug her heels into the floor and tried to squirm and thrash out from under him, but he held her firmly, lapping and sucking, devouring the nectar spilling from her body. His. All for him.
Her energy bled into his, surrounding him, connecting them closer so they seemed so wrapped in each other, he wasn’t certain where she started and he left off. He already had a taste of what life was like without her and he wasn’t willing to ever go there again. He was determined to bind her to him again.
Her stomach muscles bunched beneath his spread fingers and her voice strangled in her throat as her body locked, clamping down like a vise and then flying apart.
“Mack,” she sobbed his name, still trying to move out from under him even as her h*ps pushed into him.
“That’s right, honey. Mack. There is no one else for you, only me. Always me.”
He bent his head a third time to her, feasting, and she orgasmed again, a wild, broken cry escaping her throat.
He knelt up, dragged her to him, lifting her h*ps as he drove himself deep, drove himself home, her sweet sheath, hot and tight surrounding him. He belonged. She was home to him and always would be. She was everything. His other half. Her body gripped his, clamping down hard, squeezing and massaging. He pulled back and her soft cry of denial was music to him. He positioned her legs over his arms, giving himself more control and more leverage.
“Jaimie, look at me.”
He saw her throat convulse. She turned her head, the mass of damp black curls spilling like skeins of silk around her head. Her skin was covered in a fine sheen, her eyes dazed from the continual orgasms he demanded from her—extracted from her.
“Keep looking at me,” Mack commanded. “I don’t want any mistakes made about who you’re with. About who you belong to.” He drove deep through the tight, velvet folds, snapping his teeth together as fire streaked through him. She was scorching hot and getting hotter, if that was possible. He lifted her h*ps as he hammered down, imprinting his body in hers, reclaiming her, making certain she knew that claiming was what he was doing.
He refused to allow her to look away from him. His gaze held hers captive as his hands gripped her h*ps and his body took possession. A low, broken cry escaped again as he levered himself over her, his rhythm strong and hard, each stroke deep and deliberate, dragging over the sensitized bundle of nerves again and again, gentle and then rough, at once a caress and a harsh demand.
Her breath came in ragged gasps as he increased his pace, rebuilding the tension inside her, coiling her tighter and tighter, pushing her further than she’d ever gone with him before. Her head tossed, but her eyes never left his. She clung as if he was her only anchor, her nails biting into his shoulders like brands, sending him even higher. He drove between her damp thighs with a kind of fury, a rhapsody of torment and pleasure for both of them.
Jaimie couldn’t break his hold on her and she knew exactly what he was doing—
proving to her that she would never have this, this absolute torturous bliss, with any other man. No one could nearly kill her with pleasure, drive her so insane she couldn’t think, only feel, only burn hotter and hotter until she was desperate, afraid she’d burst into flame from the inside out.
The energy binding them together increased the sensitivity of her already passioninflamed body, but more, she could feel his body, every stroke of his velvet-encased steel shaft slamming home, filling and stretching her, streaking fire through both of them. She felt his lust rising like a tide. She felt his anger as he hammered home the point—his. She was his. She would always be his.
She never wanted him to stop, although fear snaked through her, attacking on a visceral level. He would own her again. She’d managed to survive without him the first time, but now their union was even more explosive. There would be no letting another man touch her. It would never happen. The thought sickened her. It was Mack. Only Mack, taking her over, proving to her that she was nothing without him.
He didn’t give her time for coherent thought, jerking her legs up over his shoulders as his h*ps pistoned ferociously, driving him into her again and again. His face was etched into a harsh mask, his sensual lips over bared teeth as his breath hissed out, but his eyes always dominated, demanding she not look away from him.
Commanding her in a way that both thrilled and frightened her because she couldn’t stop herself from taking what he gave her. She wanted him like this, wild and out of control, forcing her far beyond every comfort zone she’d ever known.
Her greedy body spilled hot nectar around him, clutched and grasped with evertightening muscles. Hotter. Always hotter, the inferno in her building until she thought her life would be forfeit. She could hear inarticulate pleading coming from her throat—for what, she wasn’t certain. More. To stop. No, never that. She wanted him hammering into her, the sound of their bodies coming together in a ferocious tango. She had to have this, have him.
She writhed, tossed her head, bucked her h*ps in a wild bid to meet his madness, to force his finish, to take him the way he was taking her.
“Now, Jaimie, for me. With me.” He hissed the command through clenched teeth, his gaze piercing hers straight to her soul. Taking her. Capturing everything she was, would ever be, into his keeping, including her ability to orgasm.
His heavy shaft stroked over her inflamed, swollen bud and she exploded; wave after wave of intense sensation surged through her. Her muscles clamped down around his thick, hammering c**k in a painfully erotic vise. Her body tightened more and more, until she thought she’d shatter into a million pieces. Her back arched. Her h*ps bucked, every muscle went stiff. She opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out. The orgasm tore through her body, shredding every idea she’d ever had of lovemaking. The explosion tore through her womb, rushed through her stomach like a rolling fireball, into her br**sts, down her thighs, as wave after wave hit her.
Just as she thought she’d hit the peak and the rolling ecstasy was subsiding, her body gripped his even harder and hot seed splashed deep, triggering another, even more powerful inferno that engulfed her completely, sweeping her body into a frenzy of flames so that she writhed, so that strangled cries emerged. Her heart pounded and her lungs burned. She burned.
She couldn’t look away. Couldn’t break his hold on her, and she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was proving a point. He gave her what he wanted to give her. Lust, brutal and strong and controlling, such pleasure she might not survive it.
He’d give her his protection. But it was going to be on his terms, not hers.
“Don’t you ever f**king leave me again, Jaimie,” he whispered hoarsely, his gaze boring into hers. “Do you understand me?”
She had no voice; she might never be able to speak again. She licked dry lips and managed a nod while deep inside, where no one could hear, she was screaming.
Mack searched her face for a long time before he seemed satisfied. He collapsed over the top of her, sprawling on her as he used to do. It was only then that she realized he still had his clothes on. She was completely na**d and she hadn’t even realized he was nearly fully clothed until she felt his weight blanketing her. The material hurt her sensitive skin and he must have known it because he nipped her chin with his teeth, and then pressed a kiss over the sting before rolling off of her.
Jaimie closed her eyes as she flung one arm across her face. There was no hiding.
She couldn’t pretend away the breathless cries or her ragged breathing as she fought for air. There was no way to fake her response to him. He knew exactly what he did to her. He lay next to her, one arm wrapped possessively around her waist, just as he had done so many times before while she lay wishing sex—great sex, mind-blowing sex—would be enough to sustain her, but knowing it would never be.
She hoped he’d go to sleep just like the many other times he’d worn himself out again and again until neither could move and then, without saying a word to her, he’d wrap her up in his arms and fall asleep. Now she didn’t want to talk, and he was stirring.
She’d always loved him, from the first moment she’d seen him, so big and sure of himself. So completely confident. Just the opposite of her. It had been hero worship all those years ago and Mack had treated her like a puppy, a little girl all eyes and a mop of curly hair with a brain too advanced for her years. He’d seen her through all those awkward times with a casual protection that evolved into something fierce and primitive.
Jaimie had always wanted to belong to him. She had been desperate to belong somewhere—anywhere—all her life, and there was Mack. He was everything she didn’t have. And it was dangerous to be desperate, to love someone too much. She didn’t think that was possible until right at that moment. She lay na**d on the floor of her workroom, her heart pounding, head roaring, weeping inside. She wasn’t strong enough to resist him, and she never would be.
“I can feel your energy, Jaimie,” Mack said softly and turned his head to look at her.
The jolt, the thrill, she got every time he focused on her was pathetic. His eyes seemed to look right into her soul, a silly cliché, but Mack could make her feel like the only woman in the world just by looking at her.
“I know. You’re right, my talent is getting stronger. And I’m not screaming in pain. You were able to shield me.” She was screaming in pain, he just couldn’t hear her. “I guess we’re both growing stronger.” She didn’t get as much control of her voice as she would have liked, but if she was lucky, he would put the tremor down to regaining her breath.
He pushed himself up and looked around for her clothes. His hands were unsteady as he caught up her shirt. “There’s something magical that happens when we’re together.”
It was the last thing she expected him to say. Her breath caught in her throat.
Mack didn’t say things like that. He didn’t have an ounce of the poet in him. He was all warrior, slashing eyes, grim, tough face, sure of himself. She could only nod her head, her throat closing unexpectedly.
“Sit up, baby. We made enough noise down here to bring the cops, let alone all the boys. We need to get you dressed.”
She felt the color sweep up her neck. He meant she’d made a lot of noise. She couldn’t remember, but she might have begged him not to stop. Loud. Very loud.
There might have been a scream or two punctuating the pleading. She wasn’t certain she was ready to face him.
“I know I’m not good at talking to you the way you want, Jaimie,” he continued, his voice low as he tugged the T-shirt over her head. “I’m not exactly a smooth talker like Lucas, but I mean what I say.”
