Storms and Dreams (Becoming Jane Book 3) (7 page)

He beamed, threw his head back and laughed heartily. “See, that right there, Jane. That’s you. You’re spectacular. How could I resist you?”

“At the laundromat—”

“Ah yes,” he said. Stepping closer to me, he cradled my face in his hands. “I believe I exhibited some of those kinky qualities then. Didn’t I?”

“Just a bit.”

“After that encounter, I think I’ll forever have a terrible fondness for laundromats.”

“Me too,” I said, my pulse quickening at the memory, I turned and took a few steps away from him. “Yeah, you made all kinds of promises that night,” I said, looking back at him. “But then you backed off. You changed your mind. Why?”

Why are you even asking this?
I thought. This was in the past; we’d gotten together despite all the confusion. What did this matter now? But it did somehow. I needed to know.

“The truth,” he said, more statement than question. But I answered him anyway.

“Always.”

“The truth is,” he said, his gaze scanning over the ocean’s horizon as if he’d find some answers there, “I was scared. I’d almost lost control with you that night. It shocked me how much I wanted you.”

He turned back, his eyes searching mine. I was stunned by his expression, realizing that it mattered to him, too. He needed to explain just as much as I needed to hear it.

“I haven’t wanted anything or anyone like that in a very long time. Maybe ever.”

I bit my lip, wanting to respond, but unsure of what to say. I hoped he could see my response in my eyes.

“We both felt it. Didn’t we?” he said, and his gaze was to the sea again. “If we’re honest, we both felt something from the very beginning. And it scared us. Both of us.”

I swallowed hard. “What do you mean?” I asked, and I felt the lie lurking behind the question. I knew exactly what he meant.

He crossed to me in two long strides, his leather clad knuckles brushing my cheek. “This,” he said. “This right here. What’s between us is so strong I can almost see it in the air, like lightning.” His hand slipped over my jaw and cupped the back of my neck. “It’s been there from the very beginning. We both knew it. And we both denied it. Didn’t we?”

“Yes,” I whispered. Every nerve in my body had been called to attention at his touch. The sensation was overwhelming. I trembled under his hands, and took a step back, an involuntary reaction to alleviate the overload of feelings that were flooding my system.

“We both lied to ourselves, and fought it,” he said, stepping into me, crowding me, “even as we hungered for each other, even as we kept falling together, time and time again, we fought it. We told ourselves it was just physical, that it was just sex.”

“Yes,” I said, and took another step back. I wanted to run into him, to climb into his arms and cling to him, but his words were shaking me, rattling the precariously repaired pieces of my heart. I wanted to gather the pieces and give them over to him, a gift. But I couldn’t. The last time I’d given my heart away, it was returned to me, broken. It had taken me years to put myself back together. How could I risk that again?

“It’s always been this.” His hand raked into my hair and massaged my scalp, fingers gently tangling in the tendrils. “From the beginning, our bodies recognized it, and our hearts did too, even as our minds fought it.”

My eyes fluttered closed at his words. He was looking at me too intently, his gaze too brilliant for me to hold.

“And still we’re fighting it.” His hand tilted my head back. I opened my eyes and he pinned me with his gaze.

My lips parted. I wanted to answer him. But, no sound would come from me. I was paralyzed.

“We are,” he said, and his expression shifted as if a connection was being made. “You are. That’s what all that was about. Back there. Wasn’t it? We were getting too close. You said it yourself. Things were getting heavy.”

“No, I—”

“Don’t lie to me, Jane. Don’t. You’re scared,” he said, and his other hand rose to cup my cheek, his thumb caressing my skin. “Oh, darling. I won’t hurt you. You don’t need to be scared.”

“I-I can’t help it,” I stuttered. Closing my eyes, I shook my head in his hands. “I can’t—”

“It’s my fault,” he muttered as if chastising himself. “I pushed, sharing things I should have known would upset you.”

“No.” I shook my head again. “You don’t know anything. And that’s just it. You’re wonderful and you’ve been so open with me, and I want to…I want to do the same—”

“But you can’t,” he said.

“Not yet,” I whispered, and opened my eyes to find his, filled with understanding and sympathy. I wanted so much to tell him, to tell him everything. “I can’t,” I said, and felt my eyes fill with tears.

“So you steered us towards something familiar, something safe. Sex.”

“Yes,” I admitted. “But I didn’t know I was doing that until just now.”

It was true. All of it. He was absolutely right. I’d been freaked out and overstimulated emotionally and I’d completely sabotaged our afternoon by picking some kind of weird confrontation. And I’d managed to defile the moment we were having, to boot. I’d made it all about the physical, all about the sex, because that was easier than having to deal with hearts.

“It’s alright,” he said, gathering me into his arms, his hands running over my back, trying to soothe me. “Let me help you. What can I do? Tell me. Anything.”

“Kiss me,” I said, my lips trembling. I hated myself in that moment, hated myself for doing it again, taking the coward’s way out. I should’ve taken him inside, sat by the fire and had a lengthy heart to heart. I should have told him right then, all about Brian, all about….everything. But I didn’t.

He stilled, and then slowly, his hands ghosted up my arms to cup my face. He kissed me softly, his lips warm and pacifying, full of sympathy and patience. I didn’t want his sympathy. I didn’t need his patience.

“No.” I pulled away. “Thomas, I need
you
.”

His eyes searched mine, questioning. I stared back, silently pleading with him, hoping that somehow he might understand what I needed from him without me having to utter another word.

Fuck me,
I thought.
This is too much right now. I don’t want to feel anything but your hands on me, your cock inside me. I can’t talk to you right now, can’t tell you how I feel. I can’t listen to you anymore, can’t listen to the sound of my heart pounding louder than the waves against the shore. Just fuck me, Thomas. Don’t give me your understanding or your sweetness, just fuck me until I can’t think anymore. Make this all go away for a while.

“Okay,” he said, as if reading my mind.

His mouth crashed into mine, his tongue forcing between my lips before I had a chance to acquiesce. He plunged inside, dominating, stilling my movements, until he was fucking my mouth and I was letting him, helpless in his grip. I moaned into his mouth when I felt his cock, hard and insistent against my hip, and a wave of lust rushed through me. I felt faint, stars pricking at the edge of my vision. I pushed at his chest. Breaking the kiss, I gulped for air, and stumbled backwards, needing just a moment to clear my head, just a moment to get myself together so I could see straight, feel straight. I turned and ran smack into a huge outcrop of waist high boulders, then tripped and fell forward over the nearest one, ass up, feet dangling, chest planted into a cold wet pillow of snow. He was on me in an instant, his hands pulling the puffy coat from my body, his arm crossing over my chest to pull my body back against his as he scrambled out of his coat. He gripped my jaw firmly, angling my face to his. He kissed me again, his tongue lashing over my lips and past them to pillage my mouth furiously. His other hand snaked under my sweater and found the edge of my bra, pushing it up, all of it up, until my breasts sprang free, my nipples knotting painfully in the cold sea air.

“Jane,” he rasped. His hand paused, hovering over my breasts. “Tell me. Should I keep going—”

“Don’t you dare…” I croaked, realizing what he meant to do. My eyes flicked to the hard rock in front of us, its snow covered surface, the cold raw aura of our surroundings. My inner muscles clenched at the thought, my panties flooding with anticipation. He’d heard my silent plea. He knew exactly what I needed, and he meant to give it to me. “Don’t you dare stop,” I said. “And I’m fucking serious.”

He growled at my words, and pressed me forward, bending me over the rock, forcing my naked breasts into the cold crisp snow. His hands gripped my hips, found the front of my jeans, and pulled them open, yanking the denim down and pinning my knees together. I felt leather grazing up my naked thighs, the warm exploration of his hands a stark contrast to the blast of cold air that met my skin.

“God, yes,” I whispered. “More.”

His hands stopped at my hips and I heard the sound of fabric ripping, then felt my panties give way. Something flew over my head and landed to my right. I turned my head, the snow scraping my nipples painfully as I moved, and saw the panties, bright red, a vulgar flash of color in the pristine snow. He inhaled sharply, his gloved hands running up over the length of my back, over my ass and down. It was so good. The leather against my skin felt dirty and dangerous. I tried to move, to push my body against him, to get more contact.

“Don’t move,” he growled, pushing me down hard.

My nipples felt raw and painfully aroused, the snow numbing them to the point that they were starting to throb.

“Please,” I whispered.

He slapped my ass, and my body jolted at the contact, the leather meeting my skin with a loud “crack!”

“Oh, fuck!” I shouted.

“We’ll get to that,” he said. “Shut up. Remember? I like to delay your gratification.”

“Yes,” I said, nodding. “Okay.”

His fingers probed, each thick digit stroking through my folds, delving into my core and circling my clit, pinching the swollen nub until I was begging him for more.

“Please, Thomas,” I pleaded.

Crack! He smacked my ass again, and I could hear his breathing now, labored and hoarse, could feel the hot stream of his breath as it cut through the cold and glanced off the surface of my skin.

His arms hooked under my torso and he lifted me, twisting me slightly so that he could see my breasts. The cold sea air felt almost warm on my frozen skin, my nipples prickled at the sensation.

“Look at yourself,” he commanded, and I did.

My breasts were an angry pink, the tips tender and inflamed from cold.

“Beautiful,” he said, cupping my breast, two fingers pinching the frigid nipple painfully. He licked his lips, and gifted me with a sly smile, before he bent his head and sucked one nipple into his mouth.

It felt like a furnace had erupted around my breast. His mouth sucked greedily, roughly, his tongue and teeth making a meal of my flesh. I gasped as pleasure raked through my body. My knees buckled and I fell back against him, but he caught me with those gloved hands, one at my waist, the other racing over my ass and between my thighs. He impaled me, two fingers sinking into my wet cunt to lift me back up so his tongue could continue torturing my breast.

I moaned, my orgasm coiling tightly as his fingers worked inside me. In and out, slicking over my clit and back inside again, his thumb joining the routine, urging me on. I was so close, so close, my muscles clenched around his fingers as I strained for release. So close…

He withdrew, his fingers trailing my wetness over my thighs as he yanked me upright and threw my body over the boulder.

“Oh, god,” I sobbed into the snow.

Crack! He slapped my ass, and then again. Crack! So hard that I gasped and tears stung the corners of my eyes.

He bent over me, the warmth of his body covering mine. He whispered in my ear, “You are exquisite,” he said, as his hands ran down the length of my body, tracing over the curve of my waist and hips. “Your ass is the loveliest shade of bright pink right now.”

My backside throbbed at his words, the skin burned and tingled. I felt more vulnerable and exposed than I ever had before and yet I didn’t care. All I wanted was more.

“But it’s a deeper pink I’m after,” he purred. His fingers walked lower, feathering over my folds so softly that I arched my back, and strained towards his hands, seeking contact.

“What a greedy little cunt you have.” He laughed. “Look how she begs for me.”

His words brought a picture to my mind, and my cheeks flamed. How must I look right now? Half naked in the snow, my body sprawled in front of him, my ass wiggling in the air.

“Oh, god,” I whimpered.

“He can’t help you now, darling,” Thomas said as he pushed himself upright. I heard the sound of leather gloves being shucked, the metallic clink of his belt as it released and the rasp of his zipper as he lowered his jeans.

I held my breath and bit my lip when I heard him groan, as those deft fingers fondled me at last, bare skin to bare skin. I melted in his hands, warm and pliant, my pussy yielding to him gratefully as I felt the hot blunt head of his cock nudge against my opening.

“This won’t be gentle,” he said, a sharp edge to his tone, as he palmed my ass, his thumbs separating, pulling me open to him.

“Good,” I whispered, my chest heaving with anticipation.

He slammed into me—one long stroke that seared a hot tunnel of pleasure through my core and straight up my spine. I cried out, my fingers digging in the snow. He bent over me and caught my hands, twisting my arms behind my back. Using my restraint to anchor his position, he fucked me mercilessly. My mind emptied; nothing was left but this feeling. Nothing but him. There was no cold, the frigid effects of the snow receded from my awareness. There was no boulder, the rough surface of the rock didn’t register on my skin. There was no ocean, no soft sounds of gently lapping waves. There was only Thomas. Thomas’s voice, murmuring words of desire and intent. Thomas’s hands, holding me down. Thomas’s thighs, slapping against my own. Thomas’s cock pumping into me over and over, hot and hard, plunging into my cunt, penetrating me deeper with every inch, body and soul. I reveled, letting my consciousness succumb to the onslaught of sensation.

This isn’t just sex
, my heart said, so clearly that I almost thought I’d heard it aloud. My trance was broken, and I felt a sob building in my chest, even as my orgasm coiled tightly in my belly.
Even this
, my heart said,
even this isn’t just sex. Because it’s him, it will always be more with him. So much more. You know it.