Deep Domination (Bought by the Billionaire #2) (7 page)

And what would hurt a man like Jackson the most? A man who had been so crazy about Harley it whispered from his hands, lingered in every word, poured from his soul when he made love?

What would destroy a man who would have died before he laid a hand on his lover in anger?

By the time the sun sank behind the mountains at the rear of the property and birds began to fill the yard, feasting on the insects emerging into the cool dusk air, Hannah was certain that Harley had accused Jackson of rape and that at least a few people had believed her.

What she didn’t know was why.

Why had Jackson become Harley’s target in the first place? Based on Hannah’s one night with him pre-private island, her gut instinct was that he was a good man—intense in the bedroom, but as tender-hearted as he was Dominant. But now she knew that he had a dark side. A black as sin side. She had no doubt that he would destroy Aunt Sibyl in his quest for vengeance without thinking twice about it. She also had no doubt that he was a criminal and every bit as dangerous as Eva’s son had said he was.

But what had come first? Was he a bad man who had earned Harley’s twisted brand of justice? Or was it Harley’s lies that had transformed a good man into a person ruled by hate and bitterness?

She didn’t know, which was why she had to get permission to leave her room. She would never get to a cell phone or a computer if she was trapped in the master suite all day.

She told herself that’s why she was so desperate to see Jackson again, but lying to herself was getting harder with every day she spent in captivity, forced to confront the truth in all its forms.

And the truth was that every cell in her body hungered for Jackson’s touch. She longed for his hands on her breasts, his tongue in her mouth, his cock shoving into where she was already sore and aching.

She knew it would hurt to take him again so soon, but she wanted the pain. She wanted the pain and the pleasure and the closeness she’d felt in those few breathless minutes they’d lain side by side on the floor in the dark, their fingertips barely touching.

“What’s wrong with you,” she muttered as she finished her dinner and turned her teacup over, preparing to pour herself some of the chamomile tea Eva had taken to bringing to help her sleep. But underneath the cup, tucked neatly beneath the tea bag, she found a piece of paper folded into a tiny square.

Tea forgotten, Hannah unfolded the paper to reveal a few words scribbled hastily on the page:

I’m watching. Don’t be afraid. I won’t let him hurt you. Be strong and wait for my signal. I’ll get to you before it’s too late. –A friend

Crumpling the note in her fist, Hannah looked up, scanning the world outside her prison. Was this from Eva? From her son? Or was Adam, the pilot, not as obedient as he’d seemed during their flight to the island?

Or maybe this was from Hiro, the man she’d thought was a true friend before he’d helped facilitate her sale to a monster.

Whoever it was, she wasn’t sure what they meant by a signal, but she would certainly be keeping an eye out for anything that looked remotely like a sign. It was comforting to know someone was concerned for her, but her less optimistic side insisted that getting away from Jackson wouldn’t be so simple.

If there was a traitor in his midst, she had little doubt the man was already two steps ahead of the person who had offered to help her.

Just like he’ll stay two steps ahead of you and make sure you never get to that computer to type his name into a search engine.

The thought was depressing, and her tea tasted pungently sweet in her mouth instead of comforting the way it had the night before.

She moved mechanically through her shower and headed to bed not long after dark, but she knew sleep was going to be hard to come by. Her skin felt too tight and every nerve in her body raw and agitated. She tossed and turned for over an hour, shifting from lying on her side, gaze fixed on the door, to flopping the other way to stare out at the patio.

She didn’t know which point of entry Jackson had used the night before, but she wanted to see him coming if he joined her again tonight, to be alert and aware instead of waking up already wet and aching and half out of her mind with lust.

Outside, the moon was rising, casting the trees in peaceful blue light. She longed to step through the sliding glass door, to feel the grass cool on her bare feet and the breeze whispering across her feverish skin. It felt like years since she’d been outside and waiting for Jackson was making her feel her captivity even more keenly.

Finally, as midnight came and went and the clock crept closer toward one, she admitted that sleep was a lost cause. She was too on edge, too desperate for contact and the chance to get closer to solving the mystery of the man who owned her.

She flung off the covers, wrapped her toga sheet around her breasts, and padded across the wooden floor. When she reached the glass, she couldn’t resist sliding the door open and letting the wind in through the screen door. The villa was one of the few she’d encountered in the islands that had air conditioning, and it had been humming steadily during her entire visit, but Jackson hadn’t said that she couldn’t open the door. He’d just said that she couldn’t leave the room or he would punish her.

The thought sent electricity coursing through her, like lightning dancing across water. It was a beautiful, dangerous feeling and before she knew what she was doing she was reaching for the screen door and sliding it open.

She was about to step one bare foot over the threshold and onto the concrete patio when a voice sounded from outside the door.

“I was wondering how long it would take for you to disobey me,” he said, his voice as deep and delicious as it had been last night when he’d asked her if she wanted him to fuck her.

Against all common sense, Hannah smiled. “I haven’t disobeyed you. I’ve only opened the door. I haven’t left the room, sir.”

“But you were about to,” he said, shifting in the padded lounge chair he’d pulled up beside the door sometime between the time she’d gone to bed and when she’d finally given up hope of sleep.

In the soft moonlight, she could make out the outline of his features, but not his expression. She couldn’t be sure if he was angry or in the mood to play, the way he had been last night after her spanking, but for some reason she sensed she wasn’t in trouble. At least not yet.

But she could be…

She pointed her toe, letting it hover above the unblemished concrete as she circled her ankle. “What will you do if I step outside, sir?”

“Harley…”

Her sister’s name was a warning, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to obey or not. To be a good girl or a bad one. It was hard to choose, when he made punishment feel so good.

“I broke a rule last night,” he continued softly, his deep voice setting things to stirring inside of her, making her even more anxious for his touch.

“What rule was that?”

“I told myself I wasn’t going to fuck you with my mouth,” he said. “That it was too good for you. That you didn’t deserve that type of pleasure from me.”

Hannah brought her foot back to the floor inside, torn between indignation—she wasn’t her sister, and she wasn’t a foul thing unworthy of his kiss—and empathy. He wasn’t the man she’d met that night six years ago and whether she’d had good reason or not, Harley was to blame.

Jackson was profoundly changed, but there was still a hint of vulnerability beneath his merciless exterior, and she wanted to get closer to that soft spot, not farther away. She wanted him to feel in control so that he would loosen the restraints he’d placed upon her and let her out of her cage.

But how could she make that happen when he’d set so many rules for himself? Rules they seemed destined to break as the chemistry between them flared hotter with each encounter?

Finally, she decided she had no choice but to ask and hope he could hear the sincerity in her question.

“What can I do to make things better, sir?”

“Nothing,” he murmured. “You have no power here, princess. Remember that. It is the only thing you need to remember.”

“I understand,” she said, curling her toes into the hardwood as knowing flickered to life in her bones.

It wasn’t a thought so much as a feeling, a certainty that she should trust her instincts. She wasn’t an experienced lover, let alone an experienced submissive, but her instincts hadn’t led her astray last night. She’d pleased him and she could only hope that following that soft, sure voice inside her would please him again tonight.

“I know I have no power.” She released her hold on the sheet, letting it fall to her feet, leaving her naked in the moonlight. “I’m here for your use.” She waited until she felt his eyes on her in the near-darkness before she sank to her knees. “So use me, sir.”

He shifted slightly in the chair. “Would you like that?”

“Yes, sir,” she confessed, knowing she wouldn’t be able to pull off a lie when her sex was already slick from the thought of his cock pushing between her lips.

“You’d like me to fuck your mouth?”

She dampened her lips, nerves tingling. “Yes, sir.”

“Are you sure?” He rose from his seat, moving closer with that predatory gait of his. He was wearing dark pajama pants and no shirt, leaving his powerful chest and taut stomach bare to her gaze. He was as stunning as he was crazy and just a single look at him was enough to make her pussy wetter. “I won’t be gentle. I won’t stop when I hit the back of your throat. I’ll fist my hand in your hair and force you to take it all, every inch.”

She bit her lip, barely holding back a moan of arousal. “Yes, sir.”

“I’ll fuck you until tears run down your cheeks and spit leaks from your chin.” He stopped in front of her, reaching out to tangle his hand softly in her hair, making her ache to wrap her arms around his legs and rub against the silken fabric of his pajama pants like a cat desperate to be petted. “I will use you until you’re jaw feels like it’s about to snap in two and then I’ll come so deep down your throat you’ll have no choice but to swallow every drop.”

She let her head fall back, not bothering to try to control the way her breasts rose and fell as her breath grew faster.

She wanted him to see what he did to her, how much she wanted everything he’d just described. She wanted him to take her mouth and then she wanted him to throw her on the bed and claim her body the way he had last night, soothing away the shame of the punishment with pleasure. She wanted his smile between her legs, his face twisting with passion as he labored above her, as lost in the magic they made as she was.

She knew there were no guarantees that she would see Jackson’s patient, gentle side again, but it didn’t matter. She would take his anger and punishment if that’s all he would give her. She wanted him whatever way he would have her and she seemed to have no more control over that than the wind whipping through the trees outside, forcing the limber trunks to bend.

“Have you ever deep throated a cock before, Harley?”

“No, sir. But I want to try.”

“It’s going to hurt,” he warned. “Especially the first time.”

“I don’t care,” she whispered. “Please.”

He made a soft, hungry sound low in his throat and his hand tightened into a fist in her hair, sending another shockwave of arousal coursing through her. “All right, princess. Then sit back on your heels and open wide.”

She let her jaw drop and her tongue slip out to cover the edges of her bottom teeth, her body buzzing with awareness as he shoved his pajama pants lower on his hips, freeing his engorged length. Her nipples tightened as his cock bobbed free, seeming even larger from this angel, with the thick, turgid length pointing directly down toward her face.

Her eyes widened and worry that she would choke on him whispered through her, but before anxiety could become fear he guided his leaking head to her lips and pushed inside.

The salty, musky, Jackson taste of him washed over her tongue as he glided in slow, pausing as he neared the back of her throat to adjust the angle of her head with the fist still clenched in her hair. Hannah hummed around his thick head, relishing how soft the spongy flesh of his cock felt against her tongue.

“Relax your neck,” he said, murmuring soft sounds of approval as she tilted her head farther back, relaxing into his control. “Good, now your shoulders. Let your shoulders fall away from your ears. That should relax your throat.”

She obeyed and fresh saliva filled her mouth in response, easing the way for him to push deeper, slowly easing closer to the sensitive tissue that she feared would trigger her gag reflex.

She tensed instinctively, but he corrected her—

“Don’t fight me. Relax. Relax your throat and as you feel yourself about to gag, swallow instead. Just swallow me down.” He eased forward and she obeyed, slowly taking more of him, centimeter by centimeter of his massive length slipping down her throat while he whispered encouragement. “Yes, princess. Fuck, that’s perfect. Don’t worry about drooling. Your spit feels so fucking good on my cock.”

She continued to work her mouth farther down his shaft, her breath coming faster as he kept going, sliding deep, deep down her throat.

“Breathe through your nose,” he said, his hand gentling in her hair. “Don’t panic. You can breathe. There’s no reason to be afraid.”