A Beauty Dark & Deadly (A Dark & Deadly Series Book 1) (21 page)

Like it was his fault she slept with another guy multiple times behind Jason's back. The thing was, Jason never hid the fact that he was reserved. He wasn't a social butterfly and didn't like to push his boundaries. It was why he refused to do book signings and be on social media. He hired someone to do that for him, to market his books. All he wanted to focus on was his writing. He was introverted and that was okay with him. Stacey wanted to change him into something he wasn't. It was her fault she couldn't understand and accept that he was who he was. She would force him to open up so he would stop talking all together. It was why he never talked to her about his scars. It was why he stopped talking to her altogether. So she found someone who would.

In a way, he couldn't blame her. She did come to him with concerns and he refused to entertain them. He understood now her frustration with him then. The problem was, she didn't know him at all. She didn't know that he wasn't going to change just because she wanted him to. She didn't know that if she pushed him, he would withdraw even further until she wouldn't be able to reach him anymore.

Was it right? No. But it was who he was. 

She didn't need to cheat on him. She could have filed for divorce. He would have given it to her; he didn't love her anymore. It was the embarrassment, the lack of respect, that enraged him. And he had every right to be enraged. If she didn't want to be with him, fine, but to betray him in such a way? That crossed a line.

He grabbed another condom from the dresser and tore the plastic. He hadn't had sex in a couple of years. Hopefully, the condoms weren't expired. He knew he would have to get more anyway, with the way they were going at. Inwardly, he grinned. He felt like he had when he was a kid in school and couldn't stop staring at tits and asses. With Emmy, he couldn't stop staring at her in general. Everything about her was a well of beauty and he wanted to drink her in as much as he could. He would not let himself take her for granted, would not allow himself to let one moment escape where he wasn't touching her, breathing her in, feasting on her with his eyes. She was everything he wanted in a woman. She was younger than he was used to and it almost made him self-conscious. He wanted to make a good impression; if she didn't want to be with him, fine, but he wouldn't let her forget their moment together.

He must have made an impression on her because she was insatiable. She wanted him more and more, her desire for him insurmountable. He worried he didn't have the stamina to keep up with her but refused to linger on that thought until he needed to. For now, he felt the same way about her, unable to keep his hands off of her, unable to tear himself away.

Once the condom was on, he grabbed her waist and flipped her over so she was on her stomach with her ass in the air. He stared at her, drinking her in. She got him hard just looking at her.

Fuck.

His instincts worked in double time with her. Before he could mentally process it, his body was already doing the work. His hands pressed in her hips and he was almost certain she would bruise because of it. She didn't seem in pain at his touch, however, so he wouldn't - couldn't - lessen it. It would fascinate him to see his mark on her. It would make him want to consume her body again.

At that moment, he thrust into her. She hissed at his roughness but after last night, he knew she liked it. Which surprised him and turned him on at the same time. He watched as her fingers curled into the sheets, her knuckles turning white at how tight she gripped them. Fuck, she looked good. And she felt good, too. He didn't understand what he had done in his life to deserve her, to deserve this moment, but he would not let it go without him taking full advantage of it.

She was wet. God, she was wet. For him. He caused this response in her body. He had that ability over her and he wanted to use more of his power to his advantage. The way he felt inside if her must be what Heaven felt like. It was indescribable. He couldn't find the words and he was a writer. This didn't make sense. He didn't want it to.

This morning was nowhere near last night. He refused to take his time. He wanted instant gratification. He wanted it hard, fast, right now. And fuck, she was giving it to him.

He could hear her moans. It ripped right through him and caused him to bleed out. His hands gripped her waist - he had this fascination with holding her waist; his hands fit perfectly in the curves and it made him feel as though they were specifically made for him to hold - and continued to thrust, in and out, in and out.

Fuck, she was so good, so wet. There was a good chance he would bruise her, simply because he was holding so tight. He didn't know any other way to hold her. He tried to be gentle about it but that didn't work, not when she looked the way she did. Not when she sounded the way she did.

From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a movement. She was doing something with her left hand. When he realized what that was, he nearly toppled over and missed a beat. She was touching herself, keeping her balance with one hand and increasing her pleasure with the other. Her moans got louder. If he had neighbors, they would have heard. With his history, they might even have called the cops. He didn't give a shit. Not when she looked like this. Not when she sounded like this. Not when she felt like this.

"You better hurry," he told her, "because I'm going to come soon and I can't stop."

Her cunt twitched around him in response to his words. He was surprised she liked to be talked to that way though the fact they were in an intimate setting probably helped. He made note of it and continued to thrust, faster and harder. He wanted her to get off but he wasn't lying when he said he was going to come soon. She had to have expected it, when she was so tight so wet for him.

Fuck. She would be his downfall. 

She took her left hand and placed it between her thighs, keeping her weight balanced on her right hand. He couldn't see her fingers on her clit, couldn't see them push back and forth helping her reach her climax. Her moans got louder and louder, however, and he knew the exact moment when she reached that point of no return. He remembered from last night.

The sounds she made, God, he had no idea how he'd be able to take it. They were like wind chimes in the wind. They were like his favorite song on the radio after a lull in playing it. She was saying his name like it was a prayer, like he was some kind of holy being granting her pleasure and she wanted him to rain down on her and save her very soul. Which was crazy to him, because she was his goddess, a woman to be worshiped with every piece of him, everything he could possibly offer, and somehow, she still wanted him, wanted him inside of her, fucking her, taking her any which way. She looked so sweet and innocent but wasn't. She was pure but she knew what she was doing. She knew how to take it. She knew. She knew.

And that knowledge gave her all the power in the world, but he didn't care. Jason didn't care because he wanted her to have it all. Because she only used it for good. She was responsible enough not to take advantage of him.

Her breathing got shallow and there it was. She convulsed around him like she had no choice, like she couldn't stop it if she tried, and he finally let himself release into her, filling her up and letting him go and it was literal bliss. This was Heaven. He was dead. And it was beautiful and perfect and he never wanted to go back to his old life ever again. Not when she was here. Not when she wanted him just as badly as he wanted her.

When he finished, he held himself inside of her as long as he could before he started softening and slipped out altogether. She collapsed onto the bed and placed her head on the pillow, completely spent. He discarded the condom before crawling back into bed with her. Now that he had her in the most intimate way, he didn't want to be away from her. Not when she was warm and perfect and hopeful. Not when her goodness enveloped him and made him forget. Made him forget about all the bad things he had done. All the bad things he might do if this was ever taken away from him.

He couldn't lose her. He wouldn't lose her. Not now. Not ever. Not if he could help it.

--

Jason hadn't realized the two had fallen asleep until a knock on his door woke him up.  He pressed his brows together, waiting. He never had visitors. Something was off. Something was strange. The knock resumed, this time, more insistent. He felt Emmy stir next to him until she cracked her eyes open. When she focused on him, her lips curved into a smile. Jason felt his heart skip at the sight of it. It was a smile he felt he didn't deserve. It was a smile he wanted to keep locked in his memory for the rest of his life.

"Is someone at the door?" she asked through a yawn.

"It would seem so," he said. "Should we answer it?"

Emmy shrugged but sat up. The two threw on clothes: for him, a t-shirt and sweats; for her, one of his shirts. He could tell if anyone would answer the door, it would be him. He didn't mind. She looked so damn good in his old shirt and the curve of her thighs and the length of her bare legs were causing fantasies to spark his mind into waking up even further.

"Let's get this over with," he murmured to himself but Emmy caught it and smirked.

They headed down the stairs and Emmy went to sit on the couch while Jason went to the door. He furrowed his brow when the visitor was still there, hands on his hip, brow furrowed with obvious impatience. Jason had a knot in his gut. He shouldn't answer the door. He should let this stranger leave on his own accord. But there was no reason for his gut feeling and he knew Emmy was waiting for him to make pancakes. Jason intended to get rid of this guy as quickly as possible.

Jason opened the door a crack, furrowing his brow. It used to bother him that people would be intimidated simply by his physical appearance. Perhaps his reputation played into it now. He hoped this guy would actually back off upon seeing Jason, whatever he thought of him. Jason was satisfied when the guy's eyes widened a fraction at seeing him in front of him, in the flesh.

"Yeah?" Jason asked roughly, just to emphasize his prickly demeanor. "What do you want?"

The guy was younger than Jason, probably around Emmy's age and good looking in a pretty kind of way. He had short dark blond hair and crisp blue eyes, angles in his face that revealed a masculine nature, and while he wasn't as tall as Jason was, he was lean and compact. The guy probably ran; he looked like the sort who was in good shape. He wore a simple t-shirt and jeans. There were goosebumps on his arms due to the heavy fog that usually occupied Tahoe winters in the early morning, so either this guy wasn't from here or he left without remembering to grab a jacket.

"I need to speak to Emmy," he said and Jason had to hide a smirk at the fact that the guy's voice wavered just a bit.

"What do you want with her?" Jason asked. He didn't like that a man had showed up to talk to his girl. A man shown up at his house to talk to his girl. It wasn't right.

The guy furrowed his brow, annoyed. That was surprising. He didn't continue to stay afraid of Jason. "I need to talk to Emmy," he said, rather forcefully. "Emmy? Emmy?" He was shouting. Jason wasn't sure whether to be annoyed or amused. "You kill her too, you sick son of a bitch?"

"You want to say that again?" Jason asked, standing at his full height.

Jason had to hide a smirk seeing the man flinch. He narrowed his midnight blue eyes and clenched his jaw so it popped. It didn't help that his hair fell into his face, hiding a portion of it, making him all that more intimidating. He wore a sleeveless shirt and pajama bottoms, his arms long and well-defined. Jason might have been a recluse but he still kept in shape as best as he could, and now, muscles were coming in handy.

"I'll handle it," Emmy murmured, squeezing Jason's hand before stepping in front of the door.  She had thrown on a pair of her jeans at some point, as well as sandals. He watched as her eyes widened in recognition and then narrow suspiciously. He could feel tension rolling from her body and knew there was more to the guy than his asshole behavior.

"Emmy," he said and Jason furrowed his brow. He didn't like the way this stranger said Emmy's name - warm and familiar - like they had been acquainted with each other before, in the most intimate of ways. Like he was one of the reasons Emmy seemed so experienced in the bedroom. The thought made Jason's skin crawl.

"What do you want Cody?" she asked, her tone clipped.

There was a history there between them, Jason realized. He couldn't say if it was romantic, sexual, or platonic, but something was definitely there. It hung on the lines that connected them, like dirty laundry out in public for everyone to see.