A Touch of Confidence (14 page)

A tremor shook her body, and her heart smashed into her chest. What did he say?

“But I need to get something. So I’m going to leave you here, with your hands tied to the chair, while I find it. When I come back, I want to see your pussy wet and ready for me.”

What the…? He’d just told her he loved her, and was following the confession up with orders? Really? “You can’t just say something like that and then walk away.”

He laughed. “That’s where you’re wrong. With you in this position, I can do or say almost anything.” He slapped her again, and she jerked at the pulse of pain and pleasure.

Claire squirmed, pressing her thighs together, trying to exert some pressure on her clit. God, she needed to come. Jack was acting bossier than usual, more dominant, and his behavior and comment sent an almost perverted thrill through her, escalating her need and hunger for him.

He placed his hands on her legs, stilling her desperate squirming. “Keep your thighs open the entire time. Stay right where you are and don’t try and make yourself come. When you orgasm, it will be because
I’ve
brought you to that point. Not you.”

“Hurry up,” she growled.

“Pardon?”

She closed her eyes and grit her teeth. “Please, Jack. Hurry up, please.”

He swiped his finger through her wet folds one last time and was gone, leaving Claire exposed and aroused and draped over her kitchen table.

She didn’t question that he’d be back, didn’t doubt that when he returned he’d take her to new heights, let her soar across the sky. She trusted him. If Jack said he’d be back soon, he would. And she couldn’t wait. Not just because her pussy thrummed, hummed, clenched and needed to be touched. But because when Jack was around, Claire was happy. Filled with a pleasure no man had inspired in her before. He filled her heart and obliterated a loneliness she’d never realized was there.

When he was around she…lived. Whether they argued or laughed or grieved or watched telly together, she felt alive. And the part that stunned her the most? Jack seemed to feel exactly the way she did. When she was around he was…calm. Happy. He seemed content.

The seconds dragged by. Cool air wafted over Claire, hitting the juncture of her legs. She moaned at the conflicting sensations of hot desire and cold air pooling in her pussy and prayed Jack wouldn’t be long.

She needed him. Wanted him. Loved him.

Claire froze.

Loved him?

Yes, loved him. Of course she did. How could she not? He was everything she looked for in a man. Strong, sensitive, kind, loving…bossy.

She closed her eyes, laid her cheek on the table and let the knowledge fill her. She loved Jack Wilson. She was wholly and entirely in love with him. And that love made her heart swell. A smile played on her lips. She loved Jack, and if his words were anything to go by, he loved her too.

“Fuck, you don’t look half sexy.” His voice broke through her musings.

She opened her eyes to find him standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame, naked as the day he was born, his gaze pinned on her.

He held something in his one hand which she couldn’t see, and his dick in his other hand. Correction. He didn’t just hold his dick, he pumped it slowly, starting right down at the base and sliding his hand over his length, all the way to the tip, enclosing his tip in his palm, and then sliding his hand back down to the base.

Claire noticed he wore a condom, whimpered at the sight and its meaning, and flicked her gaze to his eyes, knowing everything she’d just realized must be on display in her expression.

His breath caught. His gaze darkened. And his hand pumped a little faster.

“We’ve had fun up until now.” His voice danced across the kitchen to a slow, sexy beat. “But tonight I make you mine.”

She smiled at him. A slow, siren’s smile, borne of her confidence. “I dare you to try, Mr. Wilson.”

He stalked over to her. “Grab the edges of the table, Miss Jones. You’re going to need to hold on to something.”

There was almost no time to follow his instructions. Not with her wrists bound like they were. But she managed to grasp the edge with her fingertips, and then there he was.

His hands on her hips, his thighs between hers, and his cock at her entrance, pushing, plunging, driving inside her.

One thrust, and he filled her. His shaft, thick and long, stretched her inner muscles and teased her nerve endings, dragging along the walls of her pussy.

But one thrust was not enough. Not for her, and evidently, not for Jack either. He withdrew and thrust in again, not tempering his actions with soothing words. No, Jack was fucking her, hard. Slamming into her, filling her, then withdrawing only to slam into her again.

His hands were on her hips, holding her in place, pulling her back on his cock as he thrust in, then slackening their hold as he withdrew.

Claire loved it, loved every second, loved him. Loved the force with which he took her. And take her he did, claimed her as his, and she gave herself to him fully, gave her body over to him, to do as he pleased with. Knowing whatever he did would be as pleasing to her.

Then his hand was gone, only one arm pinned her down, and his thrusts slowed. He still filled her, utterly, but the pace was different. Not as demanding.

He slid his hand between her ass cheeks, and something cold and wet touched her hole.

She shrieked, the cold stilling her body.

It didn’t stay cold. Not for long. Jack rubbed it into her, rubbed it around, teased her hole, all the while fucking her pussy.

A sob escaped her throat. She wanted…more. Jack had hauled her past a place where emotion and logic reigned. What he did to her, the sensations he inspired within went way past pure physical need. With the knowledge he loved her all wrapped up in the knowledge she loved him too, Claire threw caution to the wind, and lost herself to his demanding seduction.

The teasing was exquisite. But not enough. The next time he thrust inside her, she lunged back, lifting her ass up, silently begging for more.

And bless him, he gave it to her. Slid that finger right inside. And not just to the knuckle this time. He slid it in all the way.

The breath exploded from her lungs as sensation burst through her pussy.

Jack didn’t miss a beat. He drove his cock inside her, fucking her ass simultaneously with his finger.

Oh, God. She was wild. Wanton. A carnal shrew desperate for more. So she begged for it, and he gave it to her. Gave her more. Slid another finger in her ass.

This time the sensation bordered on pain, and Claire missed a beat, allowing herself time to stretch, to accommodate his fingers. Just as she adapted, just as she felt her ass give, he added a third finger.

The pain wasn’t borderline. It was instant. Burning. She had to breathe through it. But he must have added more of the cold, wet stuff as he’d slid that third finger in, because his fingers glided inside her. Just like his cock glided in her pussy. And though she was full, stuffed to capacity, that fullness somehow completed her. Made the pain worthwhile.

As he increased the speed of his thrusts again, his fingers working in time with his hips, so her orgasm began to build.

“Claire, you slay me.” His voice was a hoarse tribute to her. She heard more than just sexual desire in it, more than just lust. She heard an emotion she couldn’t identify. She just knew that emotion filled her heart just like his cock and fingers filled her below. “You’re mine, you know? You have been since that first kiss.”

His words flowed over her, and her muscles tensed, preparing for an orgasm.

And once again, he withdrew, pulling away from her, retreating completely, leaving her teetering on the edge.

She screamed. Literally screamed, frustration almost blinding her.

He moved, shuffled behind her, and then his mouth was on her pussy, eating hungrily at her, and his finger was on her clit, rubbing, arousing, demanding.

She couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t hold back the release. It wasn’t what she’d expected. Not at all, but the pressure on her clit was undeniable.

Her orgasm slammed through her, sending her spiraling over the edge, tumbling and falling deeper and deeper into pleasure. His finger was merciless, playing, touching, caressing, drawing out her climax as his mouth licked her swollen folds.

Pleasure like nothing she’d ever experienced slammed through her as she convulsed and shuddered and cried out.

But even as her orgasm peaked and then ebbed, even as she collapsed, exhausted on the table, she knew it wasn’t enough, knew she wanted
—
needed
—
more.

Jack was standing again, behind her, touching her. She couldn’t see, couldn’t open her eyes to look, didn’t have the energy.

But he gave her what she needed. Gave her that something more. This time, when he breached her ass, it wasn’t with his fingers. No, this time, when he slid in, past her tight ring of muscle, it was with his cock.

And this time he was relentless. Moving slowly, giving her time to adapt to his massive size, he drove his full length into her ass.

As the remnants of her orgasm shuddered through her pussy, she instinctively clamped her ass muscles, trapping him inside, holding him, growing accustomed to his girth and to the shock of having him there. It hurt. But in a good way. In a shocking way. A carnal way. A filthy way.

A way that had her pussy fluttering again in excitement, had her juices stirring.

He withdrew, and pressed in once more, faster this time.

She cried out, in pleasure and in pain, and he fucked her again. And again.

“Mine, Claire Jones. You are mine. You have been since day one, and you will be ’til the end.”

Oh, she was his alright. And she suspected he was correct. She had been since day one.

His thighs were slippery with sweat. Hers were too, and as he drove into her, his rough, hair-covered skin slid against her smoother one.

Full, so full, and still shivering from her orgasm. But this was it. This was that something more she’d needed. A compulsion to move with him, to rock her hips as he plunged inside her could not be ignored.

Jack ran his hand around her hip, and his finger found her clit, stroking it. There it was again, the climb to orgasm, the impulse to lose herself in the extreme passion of his fucking. To come with Jack Wilson. To become one with Jack Wilson.

Claire’s pussy fluttered, clenched and exploded once more into orgasm.

She screamed as she came, this climax more complete than the last, more whole. She didn’t need anything more than he gave her. Especially not when Jack cried out behind her, when he thrust one last time, deep and hard, and then came as well.

Even through her own convulsions she could feel the way he pumped inside her, his movements still, but his shaft thumping within as he spurted. And spurted. Until he had nothing left. And then, as the last quivers of ecstasy rolled through her, he collapsed on top of her, squashing her into the table, and Claire knew their relationship had just changed irrevocably.

It was time to voice the words that had been screaming inside her head since he walked out the kitchen.

She feared she might not have the strength or energy to project her voice, but she gave it her best shot. “I love you, Jack.”

Jack heard. She knew because he jerked above her, as if hit by an electric shock. “Wh-what did you say?”

“I said I love you too.”

He was silent. Too silent. And for a heartbeat Claire feared she may have misheard him earlier. Perhaps he hadn’t professed to loving her after all.

She dismissed the notion immediately. Whether he’d professed his love or not, Claire felt it with his every action, his every tender word, his every sensual kiss. And she’d felt it in his body as he’d made love to her tonight, claiming her completely, make her his.

“You have nothing to say in response?” she asked.

“
Love sought is good…
” She heard the smile in his voice. “
But given unsought is better.
”

“That’s it?” she huffed. “I tell you I love you, and in return you…you quote Shakespeare?”

He nuzzled her neck. “You forget Shakespeare has a quote for every occasion.”

“Then could you maybe quote something that makes me feel loved in return?”

“Ah, Miss Jones, maybe I could.”

She waited expectantly, but no quote was forthcoming. Not only was a quote not forthcoming, but Jack withdrew from her. He climbed off her back and slipped off the table, disposing of the condom.

Before Claire had a chance to object, he stood in front of her, his hands on the scarf he’d knotted to the chair. He untied it, freeing her. Claire shook her hands, letting the blood flow through to her arms.

Jack kicked the chair out the way and knelt before her, so his eyes were level with hers. Then he smiled, and his dimple danced in his cheek.

“You sure you’re ready to hear this?”

She nodded. “I’m pretty sure.”

“Can you promise not to threaten me with a lawsuit once I’ve said it?”

Claire pretended to give it some thought. “I guess I can promise as much.”