A Night of Southern Comfort (2 page)

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Their mouths met in a clash of lips, tongue, and teeth as they took turns dominating the other. Jack liked his sex a little rough and Gwyneth responded to his forceful caresses with her own brand of possession. Tender wasn’t his thing. It gave women the wrong idea and he didn’t like complications in the bedroom. Complications ruined the mood.

Gwyneth burrowed under his jacket and pushed it off his shoulders. Her soft lips kissed and nipped the skin along his jaw and his neck, setting off sparks that coiled in his belly like a snake waiting to strike. Deft fingers worked the studs on his shirt, peeled it off, and threw it to the floor. He hissed in pleasure as she dragged her hands along his abdomen, fingernails raking against his nipples, and then drifted lower to stroke his aching cock through his pants.

Jack pushed her dress off. His breath hitched when the silk caught on the tips of her breasts for a split second before it fell like a waterfall and settled in a pool around her feet. “Gwyneth.” He licked his lips. “You’re beautiful.”

A crimson stain flooded her cheeks.

She was one long, flawless expanse of porcelain skin that gleamed in the soft light of the lamp on the side table. A pale blue strapless bra barely covered her pink-tipped nipples peeking through the lace trim. Matching garter belt. A tiny thong.

Hell.
He
loved
lingerie.

Jack grasped Gwyneth’s waist and pushed her backward until her hips rested on the arm of the sofa. His mouth watered as he kissed his way down her neck and collarbone before stopping just shy of her breast. Her chest heaved and each ragged breath brought her pink, tight peaks within licking distance. The temptation was too much and he nudged aside the layer of lace and sucked her nipple into his mouth, feasting on the ripe, sweet flesh until it stood taut and glistening before he moved on to pay homage to its twin. She moaned, low and deep in her throat, and Jack lost the battle with his restraint. He loved the wanton, in-your-face need woven through that sound. With a delirious craving to hear more, he released the tempting morsel in his mouth and licked his way down her body to the thong that barely covered her sex.

He pulled aside the triangle, revealing her smooth mound and a thin strip of silky hair that directed him to her wet, swollen folds.

“I thought this was going to be fast.” Gwyneth’s voice was husky with desire. “This is quite a detour.”

He chuckled in response, then paused. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed during sex. Hell, lately he hadn’t laughed much at all.

“A Brazilian wax job is like a neon sign screaming ‘put your mouth on me.’”

“Then just follow the sign.” She gasped as he slid his finger into her. Oh yes. Hot. Wet. His.

“Please,” she whimpered.

His lips quirked into a smile. “I made you beg.”

Her answering laugh dissolved into a groan as his tongue delved into her core, tasting her sweet fire. She collapsed against him when he inserted another finger into her slick heat and traced lazy circles around her clit. She bucked under him, her body reaching for his touch, demanding him to give her more pleasure. Every part of his body, from his hands pinning her to the couch to his dick straining against the confines of his tuxedo pants, screamed for him to respond to her siren song. The hot, wet clasp of her body was irresistible, so he lifted her up and carried her over to the bed.

“Bastard.” She rapped her hands against his chest.

He captured her hands and leaned down to possess her mouth in a bruising kiss.

“See how delicious you taste?” Jack groaned against her lips. “Just like honey.”

She freed her hands and unbuttoned his pants and removed his boxer briefs. At the touch of her soft hands on his erection, he gritted his teeth with the force it took to keep from pushing her down until he felt the heat of her mouth on his cock. This woman made him crazy but he wasn’t going to resort to desperate, Neanderthal pawing like some horny kid. Swearing softly, he bent to take her mouth again.

“Condom.”

Her reminder forced him to let her go just long enough to root through his suitcase for the condoms he’d packed as an afterthought. Rummaging around, he shoved aside his gun and grabbed the string of six blue foil packets. He focused on the woman in his bed removing her bra and thong.

Yeah, six might be enough.

Jack ripped open a package and smoothed the rubber over his hard-on before striding back to the bed. Gwyneth curled a hand around his neck and pulled him back to her for a kiss, then shoved him down. He landed on his back and remained there when she straddled him, staring down at him under a veil of thick eyelashes. He shivered in anticipation. Her expression said she’d take what she wanted and demand the same of him until they both collapsed from exhaustion. Hell, yeah. He craved the oblivion of a night of being well-used by a beautiful woman.

She slid her hands up his chest, leaning over until her nipples brushed his skin. “This okay?”

He nodded and laced his hands behind his head. Normally he liked to be in control and dictate the evening’s events, but Gwyneth clearly enjoyed her power and he loved watching her. “It’s your night. The first time’s all yours.”

She smiled wickedly, leaned back and used her hand to guide his cock into her slick heat. White-hot pleasure rolled through him as he sank into her inch by inch. In an instant, his world narrowed down to the spot where their bodies were joined.

“God, James.” She huffed out a laugh, the smile on her lips tinged with surprise. “You feel so good.”

“It’s only going to get better.”

She laughed. “You’re a damn cocky bastard.”

“Only if I can’t live up to the hype.”

“All I hear is blah, blah, bla—”

His mouth on her breast shut her up. What he’d intended to be a lesson to his sexy, smart-mouthed bedmate turned into a reward of instant gratification that he didn’t deserve. He hadn’t been a good boy in a long time but her sweet taste burst on his tongue like the lollipops handed out by the family doctor.

Her silky hair cascaded down her back, tickling his thighs, the light caress a thrilling contrast to the tight, wet clasp of her core. She undulated her hips in a lazy rhythm calculated to make the bone-melting pleasure last forever—or drive him insane.

Gwyneth’s moans increased, vibrating through him in a pounding pulse he mimicked with the hard thrust of his hips. Greedy for all of her but unable to settle on one delicious inch, Jack traced the curve of a luscious breast, glided down the sleek skin of her belly, lower until his fingers found her swollen clit. At his touch, Gwyneth shuddered, losing her control over their sensual rhythm and giving him the best opportunity to take the reins.

Rising up, Jack shifted until she was underneath him, every inch of her luscious body soft and open for his invasion. He propped himself up on his forearms, burying himself inside her body, the urge to move overwhelming. He forced himself to remain still. He loved this part. It was like base-jumping—standing on the edge, toes curled, muscles taut, adrenaline intensifying every sound, taste, smell, and touch. The precipice was a rush but the free fall was so much better.

But he didn’t want to take this leap alone.

As if she could read his mind, Gwyneth’s eyes fluttered open and his breath caught at the naked desire in their depths. Working as a deep-cover cop, his survival depended on him being the invisible man, but she saw him—really saw him—and he understood the meaning of regret. His choices made it impossible for him to pursue a woman like Gwyneth.

Her voice was a ragged whisper. “Please.”

Compelled to take what he could from their one night, he yielded to the lust that raged through him. He rode her, plunging deeper, harder, worried he was hurting her but unable to stop. Gwyneth wrapped her legs around his waist, the dig of her heels in his lower back demanding he hold nothing back.

“Please. I can’t…I want… Make me come.”

Her breathy plea raised goose bumps on his skin He didn’t need an explanation to understand what she needed from him. The prize was hovering on the edge of his sanity and he didn’t care what lay beyond as long as he got there. Ignoring the scream of his body when he stopped moving, he grabbed one of her hands, lifted her arm over her head and braced her palm flat against the headboard. She stared at him, her expression wary.

“Hold on.” Jack ordered. “I’ll get you there.”

When she duplicated the action with the other hand, Jack took a deep breath and began the deliberate descent back into madness with a series of low thrusts. He drank in the sight of her body, stretched and vulnerable beneath him. The sight of his cock plunging in and out of her tight heat switched on his autopilot, electricity shooting down his spine and settling heavy in his balls. With shallow, fast strokes he pounded into her, now desperate to hang on until he could live up to his earlier bragging.

But damn if she didn’t test his endurance.

Braced against the headboard, Gwyneth met his every thrust with equal force. He gritted his teeth, but focused on her face. Damned if he’d miss how she looked when she came. Just when he feared he’d break first, her orgasm, swift and fierce, hit them both like a freight train and milked him until he had no choice but to follow her over the edge.

Gasping and covered in a sheen of sweat, they lay motionless in a tangle of arms and legs. Jack’s ears rang from the blood rushing through his body at a rate that might have killed a man with less motivation to live. But he faced the prospect of an entire night with this woman, and he’d be damned if he let something as trivial as dying make him miss a moment of it.

And one night was all it could ever be.

Gwyneth was real, determined, and his sexual match in every way. She was the kind of woman who could distract him from getting back to the job he needed and loved. A woman had taken his career from him once and he’d move heaven and hell before he let it happen again. In the maze of undercover assignments, he’d lost sight of himself and the last year had shown just how badly he needed the job. It was all he had.

Banishing those dark thoughts, Jack stirred and leaned over to dispose of the condom before pulling her back into his arms. With a contented sigh, Gwyneth rested her head on his chest, their legs intertwined.

She was the first to break the silence. “That was…”

“Incredible.”

“Yeah.”

He grinned. Gwyneth raised an eyebrow. “What are you smiling about?”

“I made you beg.”

“No, you didn’t.”

He leaned up on an elbow, prepared to argue. He’d made her beg. She’d said please. Several times.

“I didn’t beg you to stop.” Her grin lit up her whole face with wicked intent. “I begged you to keep going. That’s entirely different.”

He considered that. Her voice, pleading in passion, was the sexiest thing he’d ever heard. His cock stiffened and twitched against his leg at the thought that he could spend the rest of the night making her beg again.

She kissed him, scrambling his brain. Her tongue explored the inner recesses of his mouth. He groaned as she pulled away, scooting off the bed. Grabbing his hand, she tugged him from the bed and toward the bathroom.

“Come on. It’s my turn.”

He circled his arms around her waist, pulled her against his body, and pressed a kiss just below her ear. “Your turn for what?”

“To make
you
beg.”

Sweet Lord.

Jack watched her saunter into the bathroom as images of what she promised formed in his mind. The sound of running water and her sultry “Are you coming?” broke him out of his stupor. He stumbled toward the adjoining room, fully prepared to beg and love every minute of it.

…

The next morning Jack woke to the sun shining through his windows. The scent of Gwyneth and sex surrounded him in the utter stillness of the room.

She was gone.

A glance at the empty space beside him and a note on the pillow confirmed his assessment.

The heaviness in his chest surprised him. What was he expecting? A quick roll in the hay before parting ways? Or was it the prospect of breakfast in bed, a few lingering moments with a fascinating woman? He’d gotten exactly what she promised, and a little more, if he was honest with himself. She’d said she was starting a new life and he’d been fortunate to catch a glimpse of the amazing woman Gwyneth would undoubtedly become in her new future. It gave him hope that his fucked-up life would somehow work itself out as well.

Reaching for the paper left on the bed, he laughed out loud as he read the neat, elegant script covering the hotel notepad:

You never made me beg.

No, he’d never made her beg. She’d demanded “harder, faster” and that he “do that again, please” until the wee hours of the morning, when they’d both fallen into a sated, boneless slumber. But she’d never asked him to stop.

She’d also never told him her name.