Sexual Games [The Heroes of Silver Springs 8] (Siren Publishing Classic) (13 page)

A devious grin slowly unfolded on her sensuous lips, and her thighs clamped his hips tightly between them. She flattened her hands on his chest and flipped him over, rolling on top of him. The move startled a soundless chuckle from him. The woman might be smaller than him, but as the saying went, dynamite came in small packages. She had always been able to take him down when he wasn’t on his guard. Every second of tonight from the instant he had answered the phone was laying heavy proof to that.

She slithered down his body, dragging her palms down his chest in her descent. His need to finally have her hands on him this way had destroyed his common sense. He wanted his pajama pants off, wanted to fully feel her perfect body and vixen hands on every inch of his bare flesh. He wanted to be inside her, damnit, wanted to feel her pussy convulse around his cock as she came apart in his arms.

Fuck this silent game.
He was on the verge of saying it when her fingers latched onto the waistband of his pants and tugged them down. He lifted his hips off the mattress, his cock screaming hallelujah as it sprang free once again. He saw her hungered gaze settle on his cock, saw that tormenting pink tongue of hers glide across her lips, and a whip of anticipation slashed at his balls.

She dipped her head, licked the head of his cock, and his eyes rolled back in his head. She ran the tip of her tongue around his girth just below the foreskin then closed her lips around his cockhead, and a brutal pleasure tore through his system. Her mouth was hot, tight, drawing on his cockhead, her tongue rasping the ultrasensitive flesh beneath it. His balls drew up painfully tight as she cupped them in her fingers and massaged his taut sac.

He fought to breathe even as he lifted his head, opened his eyes, and gazed down at her. She looked at him from beneath her lashes, a temptress’s smile curving the corners of her lips around his cock. Her delicate fingers gripped his shaft, worked it slow and easy as she drew on his pleasure-tortured crest, then swallowed his length.

Christ.

He let his head fall back again, and he fought for control. Every muscle in his body tensed as the pressure mounted in his cock and balls. No, he would not come this way. He wouldn’t let go until he was buried deep inside her sodden pussy.

She fucked him with her mouth, her head bobbing, her teeth lightly grazing the flesh, her throat expanding to take every inch of his cock. She worked the hardened flesh, milked it until he teetered on the edge of a loss in control more ferocious than he had ever experienced.

He bucked his hips, using movement rather than words to warn her. He reached for her, fisted the hair that spilled over his abdomen, and tugged.

She pulled back so slowly it nearly did him in, releasing his cock from the capture of her lips with an audible pop. Lightning bolts of pure deviousness flashed in her eyes as she crawled on her knees up his body and settled herself over his cock.

As badly as his cock ached to be inside her, he wanted to stop her, to slow this down. He wanted her beneath him again, wanted to touch her, to taste her, to make her writhe and beg, to make sweet love to her.

She didn’t allow any of that. She closed her fingers around his wrists, pinned his arms to the bed on either side of his head, and lifted a curious brow as she bent her head to brush her lips to his.

He smelled himself on her breath and he realized she’d wondered if he would be one of those men who would turn away from her kiss now that she’d had her mouth on his cock.
Not a fucking chance.
If anything, that scent acted as an aphrodisiac to his already-colossal desire simply because he knew, and could still feel, where her mouth had been.

Her gaze imprisoned his as she shifted her hips slightly and then,
sweet heaven
, sank down on his cock. All thoughts of touching her fled as the sensations of feeling her body joining with his overwhelmed him. Her eyes closed and he thought he saw a flash of pain move over her face as her body took its time accepting his cock despite her quick descent. Her pussy was drenched, the entrance tight, almost as if she hadn’t had sex in years.

The possibility stunned him. Mallory was the fling queen. She went for sex whenever she wanted it with whomever she believed would give it to her without expecting anything in return. Didn’t she? Holy shit, when had that changed? Was it possible she’d been holding out for him?

He tried to reach for her, wanting to comfort her, to slow her down, but her grip on his hands remained firm. Her eyes opened and that devious glint was back, swirling with a primitive possession that sent rapturous chills through his bloodstream. She was in control here. He might be burning to touch her, but he could only do so if she let him. Permission to do so was apparently no longer in tonight’s rule book.

She rocked her hips forward, grinding her pussy on his cock, and he forgot all about his attempts to get free. Her inner muscles gripped at his shaft as she started to ride, picking up momentum with each grinding thrust. Raking fingers of pleasure clawed through his body as he watched her fuck him. If he’d thought she was beautiful before, she was beyond gorgeous now.

She laced her fingers with his and lifted his hands, turning them over and pinning them at his sides just above her knees as she sat up on top of him. Her hair fell over her shoulders, parting around her breasts. She gyrated her hips on his cock, using the flesh of his pelvis to caress her clit, then lifted her body and fell again, taking his cock deeper and sending him on a spiraling trip to ecstasy. Her head fell back on her shoulders, and his mouth watered to sink into the column of her throat she exposed. Her breasts bounced, her engorged nipples taunting him because he couldn’t feel them, couldn’t wrap his lips around them and suck her to oblivion.

He shifted his gaze down and watched as his slick, glistening shaft powered in and out of the flattened curves of her pussy. The erotic sight drove him straight to the edge.

She shifted her hold on his hands again, this time guiding them up to her breasts. Finally, he got to touch her. He took her breasts in his palms gratefully, molding the mounds with his fingers and squeezing tightly. Her lips formed an
O
of pleasure, her expression one of sheer erotic passion. He flicked his thumbs over her hardened nipples, saw her draw her bottom lip between her teeth, and knew she teetered right there on the edge with him. He felt her inner muscles turn to vises around his cock and struggled not to let go until she came.

He caught her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, pinched, pulled, and watched in absolute fascination as she thrashed on top of him. Her delectable body shook from the force of her orgasm as it tore through her, spilled out of her, covering his cock and balls with her juices. Her pussy convulsed around his cock and she collapsed onto his chest, her breathing ragged, her heart pounding so hard he could feel it.

He couldn’t hold back his own release a second longer if he’d tried. With a growl that totally blew her silent game to hell, he came inside her. Boneless, breathless, every muscle in his body relaxed. He wrapped his arms around her, loving the arch at the small of her back, the way her ass fit so perfectly in the palm of his other hand. Her head rested beneath his chin and he felt a drop of wetness hit his chest.

Sweat?
Both their bodies were slick with it. But, no. He knew with a certainty that ripped through his soul that wasn’t sweat he felt. It was a teardrop. He lifted his head, tried to look down, but saw only the top of her head. He kissed it softly, glided his hand up her spine and down again, caressing, hoping to soothe.

“Mal,” he dared to whisper because,
Jesus God
, the woman he loved was crying in his arms after making love to him for the first time. Sure, it hadn’t been the lovemaking he’d had in mind. Most people would call what they had just done pure, carnal fucking. He knew why she had all but insisted it to be that way, too. She hadn’t wanted to think, hadn’t want to feel.

She was feeling now, though, and if that teardrop was any indication at all, the emotions were shattering her.

“The silent game doesn’t end until morning,” she said softly, her voice steady despite the raggedness of her breathing, the quivers he felt moving through her.

Jackson laid his head back and closed his eyes. He would let her have her way tonight. The next time they played, and there would be a next time, it would be by his rules.

A persistent vibration pulled Jackson from his favorite dream. The semi-conscious part of his mind realized it wasn’t all a dream. Mallory lay beneath him, her bronzed skin heated with desire, her gaze on him beckoning, pleading as he spread her legs wide and took his time studying her glistening folds.

Touch me.

Her whispered request moved over him like warm velvet, but he resisted, drawing out the moment, heightening her anticipation.

Yeah, he knew that part was definitely the dream. The silent game was gone. So was the wall she had kept so firmly in place guarding her needs and her heart.

I want your hands on me. I want to know what it feels like to have you inside me.

Reality splintered into his dreamland on that one. She hadn’t let him touch her, but she knew what his being inside her felt like now.

The vibration kicked up again, bringing with it another fragment of realism. There was no place for vibrators in his dream world because, in a shift of the fantasy that stole his chance to touch, he pushed his cock inside her sopping pussy, and the phone rang.

Jackson bolted upright and muttered a curse when the sharp movement jarred his rock-hard cock with enough force to break the damn thing off. He looked beside him as he reached for the phone on the bedside table and sighed as disillusionment morphed into a pain in his chest more acute than anything he had ever felt.

“Graham,” he said by way of greeting as he brought the cordless phone to his ear and raked his free hand through his hair. She was gone. He should be used to waking this way, alone with a cock so hard it could split rocks, and an emptiness inside that made him want to do nothing more than slip back into his dreamland.

Except, this morning should have been different. He should have awoke with Mallory in his bed, in his arms the way she had been when he had drifted off to sleep. Had he really thought she would stay the night?

He sighed, closed his eyes, and silently admitted the truth. No. He had prayed she would, but deep down, he had been expecting to wake exactly like this.

“We think we found her,” the caller informed him, short and to the point.

Jackson opened his eyes, instantly recognizing Cooper’s voice, understanding the implications of his words. “Which one?” His kidnapper or the woman missing?

“Lexie Stratus.”

“When? Where?”

“About an hour ago in an abandoned warehouse on the west side, about as far from Stardust as you can get and still be in city limits.”

Jackson glanced at the bedside clock. It was barely six a.m.

“We won’t know for sure until we get the results back from the autopsy.” A heavy sigh followed Cooper’s words through the line. “The body is barely identifiable as human, let alone our missing girl. She hadn’t been dead long, maybe an hour, two tops.”

Grief for a woman he had never met, never even seen beyond a driver’s-license photo, washed through Jackson. “How did you find her?”

“An anonymous tip called into the bureau.”

Jackson froze as he started to climb out of bed. “My kidnapper?”

“We don’t know. The voice was disguised. Well enough we can’t even tell from the tape if it was male or female. The trace on the call led us to a disposable cell found in a dumpster five miles from the warehouse. Forensics is seeing what they can pull from it now.”

“I doubt it will be much, if anything.” If the caller knew enough to disguise his or her voice so well, he certainly knew how to wipe a phone clean of any trace, physical or technical.

“So do I, but I’m calling everyone in. I’ve already got a team of agents going through that warehouse with a fine-toothed comb. I want that entire area searched. I want any morsel we can find. I want to catch these bastards before I have another unidentifiable girl on my hands. And I want to find out who is playing games with this bureau.”

Jackson did, too. Especially when he had been at the head of what apparently started this game. “Mallory?” he asked, then added quickly, “Cameron and Kell?”

“Stone and Kell are already in. Mallory is on her way.”

Jackson nodded as he straightened. At least he knew Mallory was physically okay. Mentally, he figured she would be in a far different state. “I’ll be there in twenty,” he told his boss and cut the connection. He paused as he set the cordless back on the bedside table, his gaze landing on his cell phone.

He had dropped his cell phone and heard it shatter when Mallory took off her trench coat at his front door at two a.m. The light on the screen faded in and out, indicating a missed call. Apparently, it hadn’t shattered beyond repair. She must have found it on her way out, put it back together, rebooted it, and placed it on the table for him to find when he woke.

Considerate since you didn’t even bother to say good-bye.

Fury made his steps heavy as he walked to the master bathroom. He showered quickly, washing away the scent of sex, the only thing that remained besides the memories to convince him everything about last night had not been part of the dream. He dressed and walked out of the bedroom in less than ten minutes, finding his houseguests sitting at the bar separating the kitchen from the living room.