Blind: Killer Instincts (21 page)

“Dead inside. Nothing.”

He muttered what might have been, “Oh, Ems,” before rolling her to her back and settling over her.

“Whatever you need, I’m here for you,” he whispered. He kissed her temple, her cheek, her jaw, everywhere except her mouth.

She dug her fingers into his hair and pulled him where she wanted him. His mouth on hers. She kissed him deeply, thrusting her tongue into his mouth, pressing as close as she could get and still be in her own body, but it wasn’t close enough.

He cupped her face, swiping his thumbs over her cheeks with such tenderness. This big, tough man was capable of more than she knew. She relaxed, and he took over, easing back a bit. At least their noses weren’t practically breaking on each other’s cheekbones anymore. She felt more from that tender touch than she had all night. It was the way he lavished attention on her mouth. She shifted, restless, but he held her in place.

Why was it this man stirred such intense desire in her? It was too soon. They didn’t know each other. And yet, this was where she wanted to be. Alive. Making love to a man who quietly made her want to be better. Worthy of him.

Jacob kissed his way down her neck, pausing to suck lightly at the sensitive juncture to her shoulder. She lifted her hips, grinding against him. He pushed her shirt up and lowered his weight onto her, restricting her movements.

She pulled her shirt up the rest of the way, wiggling it off until all she wore were her panties. He made an approving sound and palmed her breast. She arched her back and surrendered to the sensations assaulting her body. The sheets were cool, soft, and smelled faintly of lavender. The coarse hair on Jacob’s chest and legs rubbed against her as he moved, and his stubble scraped the sensitive flesh of her breasts. Desire coiled tightly inside of her, driving out the last bit of her ability to form coherent thoughts.

She felt a hell of a lot now. There was nothing numb about what he did to her, how he made her feel.

Her focus was on his hands, the way he made it hard for her to breathe, and the pounding of her heart.

He pushed her breasts together and licked from one nipple to the next. She shivered and grasped the sheets. He rolled one stiff peak between his fingers while teasing the other with his tongue.

She almost wanted to push him over, shove a condom on that hard cock she could feel against her thigh, and ride him to climax. Almost, because he was showing her what else he had. They might not be afraid of playing it a little rough, but he was touching her in places unavailable to human hands. It felt as though he reached inside of her and hugged her heart.

“Jacob,” she moaned.

“Hm?”

“I want you.”

“You have me,” he muttered against her skin. He switched breasts, content to go no faster.

She shifted her feet against the bed, trying and failing to lift him, move him, make him do something.

He took pity on her and slid his hand between their bodies, cupping her mound and giving her the desired pressure. She moved her hips, grinding against his palm. He shoved her panties aside, and as she shifted against him he thrust two fingers into her pussy.

She gasped and wrapped her arms around his neck.

He pumped his hand in and out while his mouth worked on her breast. She groaned and scraped her nails over his back. His shoulders tensed as she dug deep tracks, but he didn’t relent in his slow, sensual assault on her body.

Jacob sat up suddenly, his erection tenting the front of his boxers. She could feel his gaze raking over her. The cool air tightened her damp breasts.

He grasped her panties and pulled them off.

Finally! Down to business.

She reached for his boxers, but he intercepted her hands, pushing them up over her head. He wedged his body between her legs, scooting farther down the bed until his face hovered above her mound. The light glinted off his eyes, and it felt as though he saw beyond her exterior. As if he recognized her fear and apprehension and met her, toe-to-toe. Or, face to pussy as the case were.

He lowered, and she shivered as his breath skated over her skin. Last time, she hadn’t had the opportunity to feel nervous. But tonight, it was as if they were each stripped bare.

He wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked. The sensation of it shot straight to her toes. She reached above her and grasped the headboard, needing something to hold onto. He rubbed his tongue over the nub, sparking off a fresh wave of arousal.

Damn him, she didn’t know if she wanted closer, or to get away.

She rubbed her feet back and forth on the mattress. He had her pinned way too well for her to move against him. Her channel clenched as he continued to torment her.

Her toes curled, her body tightened, and she groaned. Her abdomen tightened as pleasure danced over her extremities. The orgasm was sharp, short, and intense, rushing through her at full tilt. She gasped and blinked at the ceiling.

Jacob crawled up her body, dropping kisses on her hip, her stomach, ribs, between her breasts, and along her collar bone. She sucked in deep breaths, her head spinning from how fast that had happened. Despite the release, she wasn’t sated. Not yet. She wanted more of him, as much as she could take.

Emma pointed toward a cardboard box. There were condoms there, but he ignored her and fished his jeans back onto the bed.

“I got my own this time.” He chuckled.

She laughed and stretched, feeling the soreness in her body and loving it. Loving how he drove her crazy. Every brush against the sheets heightened her sensitivity.

Jacob returned to her, sliding between her thighs and hooking her knee over his arm. Their gazes locked and her lungs stopped working. It was as if she could see straight to his soul. He wasn’t keeping her out, at least not now.

He positioned his cock at her entrance and thrust. He sank slowly into her, and it was more intense because she could see the way his features changed, how his nostrils flared and his cheeks sunk in the deeper he delved. Her insides quivered, and she swallowed a whimper.

Was she supposed to feel so emotionally raw?

He invaded her body, her heart, and filled her mind. He was all around her.

Jacob let his forehead drop until their noses bumped. He flexed his hips and sank the last little bit into her. She squeezed her internal muscles around him, and she felt him smile a little against her mouth. How she wanted to see that smile, soak it in.

She kissed him, needing more connection, more of whatever it was he was doing to her. She’d asked him to make her feel.

He shifted, hoisting her leg higher and opening her up to a deeper penetration, robbing her of thought, leaving her adrift in a sea of sensation. He rocked against her, stroking deep inside her channel, rubbing all those nerve endings and coiling her desire tighter.

Jacob levered up and began a slow, purposeful thrusting. She shifted against him, but he had all the power. Her orgasm, her body, and even her heart were at his mercy.

She felt his gaze on her, and she couldn’t help but meet it. Her chest ached and her heart swelled, beating hard against her ribs as he continued pushing her onward.

He didn’t speak, but he didn’t have to. He saw her. All her flaws and her sordid history, and yet, he still wanted her. She’d have to trust that. Trust that this man would be there for her where all others had failed her.

She dug her nails into his shoulders and gasped. Her body rippled with orgasm— sharp, sweet and sudden. He continued thrusting, drawing the pleasure out. She raked her nails down his back, and he groaned. His thrusts were rough and short. He thrust once more and froze, features tense, mouth open. He blew out a breath and covered her, crushing her mouth to his.

He rolled them to their sides, pulling her close, and cuddled her without being asked to. He knew she needed the comfort. Neither of them spoke, and that was okay. She’d wanted to feel, but now, maybe she felt too deep. He did things to her, crazy, wonderful things that made no sense.

Rhonda pressed dial again on her cell.

“Come on, already. Pick up the damn phone,” she muttered.

Once more, the phone line went to the answering machine, and she rolled her eyes.

“Hey, it’s me. I guess you left your cell phone at home when you picked Rachel up from work. They didn’t have chocolate chip cookie dough, so since you weren’t answering, I picked something else.”

She ended the call and tossed the phone into the seat next to her. Going a half-hour without contact from her family shouldn’t be a big deal. After all, she’d gone nearly a year without speaking to any of them, thanks to a real gem of an asshole boyfriend who had a degree in manipulation. She’d vowed to never let anyone come between her and her family again.

They’d planned to go out to a movie and have a real girl’s night, but her little sister had been called into work at the local barbecue hangout. Rhonda and her mother had swung by for dinner, but it wasn’t the same without Rachel at the table with them.

She pulled into the drive of their little brick house. Both cars were there, including Rachel’s with the dead-as-a-doornail battery. It was all where it should be, and yet, something seemed off.

If Rachel and Mom were home, why were the lights off? And why weren’t they answering?

She peered at the house.

No, she could see some light from inside. Was that the kitchen?

Her gut clenched and she twisted to survey the street. Had Frank followed her home? Was he here?

Frank said the moment the cops pulled him off her that he’d make her pay. She’d been so scared. One of the officers, a woman with kind eyes and a quick smile, had checked up on her a few times and told her to take martial arts classes. Rhonda had gone mostly to get out of her own head—and found she’d liked the discipline. Maybe it was her imagination, but she felt more confident and capable for working her way through the programs. She’d become something of a dojo junkie.

She wasn’t going to ignore her instincts.

Rhonda left the ice cream in her car and crept to the side of the garage. The door was busted so she couldn’t get in through the laundry room, but that was okay. There was always the glass sliding door to the kitchen. Besides, with her luck Mom and Rachel were in the kitchen pigging out on whatever was leftover from the restaurant and this wasn’t an emergency at all, just her overactive imagination.

She reached the door and peered into the bright country kitchen.

Nothing.

In fact, if she peered through the kitchen over the bar, she could make out their heads resting against the back of the couch as they watched TV.

Well now, didn’t she feel stupid?

Rhonda shook her head and mentally kicked herself. Her paranoia bit hard sometimes. She went back to the car and snagged the ice cream, vowing to keep her delusions to herself.

Frank was not out to get her.

They were safe and sound.

She opened the front door, suppressing her annoyance that it wasn’t locked. Between Frank and the serial killer the news was going on about, you’d think they would exercise a little caution.

“Hey, what’s up with not answering the phone?” she called out as she flicked the locks into place.

Shit, the TV was loud. No wonder they hadn’t heard. They could probably barely hear themselves think.

Rhonda headed toward the kitchen, still unable to shake the sense that something was amiss.

A shadow moved in Rachel’s room on her left. Rhonda stopped as the shadow seemed to peel off the wall and become a person. Fear immobilized her for a second, but then her self-defense training took over.

“Mom, Rachel, call 9-1-1,” she yelled, but they didn’t move.

The man rushed her, something in his hand.

Rhonda didn’t think. She reacted. She threw the gallon of ice cream at her attacker. It hit him square in the face, knocking him off his stride for a second.

A second was all she needed.

She didn’t care if this was Frank, her father come back from whatever hellhole he’d crawled into, or anyone else. No one threatened her or her family. No one.

She rushed the attacker, grabbing the wrist of the hand with the weapon, and kicked his legs out from under him. He went down like a sack of potatoes, and she came down on top of him. She punched with everything she had, aiming for the face, the throat. Her knuckles and hands hurt, but she pushed that aside. Frank had taught her that, at least.

Her attacker thrashed, his arms flailing.

Plastic rattled, and the cold, heavy weight of the ice cream smacked her in the kidney, paralyzing her for a split second.

He pushed her off, kicking and throwing random objects at her. She grabbed the weapon he had—a sledgehammer, by the weight of it—and screamed. For a brief second she glimpsed his face, illuminated by the kitchen light.

Fuck, he was practically a kid.

She hefted the weapon and ran after him, but he was already scrambling to get the locks open. He sprinted down the driveway before she could get her hands on him again. She shoved the door shut and locked it, pulse racing and her body shaking.

Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit.

Had that really happened?

The pounding in her hand, the jarred feeling in her elbow and shoulder, they all said yes.

“Mom? Rachel?” She ran into the living room, her heart in her throat.

Both women sat bound and gagged on the sofa, their eyes wide and murmurs drowned out by the TV.

“Oh my God. Oh my God.”

The shaking was bad now. She looked around for something to cut them free. She needed to call 9-1-1. She needed to untie them.

“I’m going to get help. I’ll get you out of that.” Rhonda grabbed her cell phone from her pocket and punched in those three digits. She rushed to the kitchen, yanking open drawers she knew didn’t have knives or scissors in them. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t process. Couldn’t remember which damn drawer they were in.

“9-1-1, what is your emergency?”

“Hi, my name is Rhonda. Someone was in our house when I got home. He had my mom and sister tied up and he attacked me.”

“Is he there now?”