The Kept Woman (14 page)

"I won't move a muscle," he said as she walked out the door, wondering what exactly "more so" could mean coming from a woman who'd already said the best three words in the English language: "
Fuck me now!
"

"
Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod
."

Before she reached Dakota's bedroom door, Sam leaned an unsteady hand against the wall and tried to catch her breath, nearly knocking a small gilt-framed expressionist reproduction to the floor in the process. Unless she took immediate action to stop it, she was about to have sex with Indiana's most notorious millionaire politician playboy. There were so many surprising things about that development that she hardly knew where to begin. She barely knew the man! She was his employee. And let's face it—she had no experience handling a player like Jack. She was way out of her league.

Sam put her other hand to her chest, feeling her heart dance around in a panic. This was all Monte's fault. It was the dress—a dress that made Sam feel far more vampish than she had a right to. The dress gave her a false sense of daring. The dress made her too big for her britches. At that thought, she pressed her thighs together, finding that her britches were so wet she was in danger of dripping on the expensive Persian carpet runner under her feet.

She hadn't had sex in eighteen months, for crying out loud! This was no way to ease back into things. Having sex with Jack Tolliver would take some serious balls. She couldn't go through with this—could she?

Sam straightened, pointed the flashlight into Dakota's door, and made sure he was asleep. Apparently, Jack had done a decent job of tucking him in, as Dakota was snuggled down into the comforter, thumb in mouth, thoroughly in dreamland. She laid the flashlight on top of the covers, kissed his curly head, and whispered good night.

She left a second flashlight with Greg and the last with Lily, who were both sleeping soundly, and returned to the dark hallway, realizing she'd need to walk back to her suite with only the slightest hint of firelight to show her the way. With each step of her bare foot on the carpet, she engaged in an inner debate.
I can/I can't. I want to/I shouldn't. I can have sex with Jack and stay sane/I'm just torturing myself. I am perfectly capable of keeping a one-night stand in perspective/I'm not cut out for casual sex
.

She stood outside the half-open door and peeked inside. She didn't see Jack on the couch, but she did note the arrival of three white candles on the coffee table, their flames adding to the glow in the room. After a big, fortifying breath, she pushed open the door all the way and dared to look at the bed.

This couldn't be happening. In a few short weeks she'd gone from sleeping alone on Kmart sheets to being invited to lie down in that decadent collection of smooth satin and fine cotton under a diaphanous white canopy, in this elegant room, with that exceptional naked man at her side.

"Are you really naked?" Sam took a tentative step into the room and shut the door behind her. She heard her own breath coming hard.

"Come over here and find out." Jack clasped his hands behind his head and sank back into pillows. It was a move that displayed an arrogant sexuality, not to mention a pair of killer biceps. Patches of dark hair appeared under his arms and over the finely sculpted chest now coming into view as the sheet slipped down his body. Jack flashed a white grin at her. "I highly recommend it."

"Oh God." Sam froze, her hand still clutching the doorknob behind her.

Jack bent his good knee—the right one—and it caused the sheet to slide farther down his body, exposing a hard waist, a solidly muscled hip, and a bit of upper thigh. Sam hadn't been in the same room with a body like this since figure-drawing classes at Hanover, and those models weren't as defined as Jack. Her fingers itched. She needed a brush and a canvas. She wanted to capture that sleek rope of muscle where it attached at his hip. She wanted to shade in the contours of his six-pack using violets and browns and blues. She wanted a vista of skin in peaches and shadows, blue-blacks for his hair, a stormy mix of green, blue, and black for those erotic cat eyes of his.

The eyes that bored into hers at that very moment.

"Get in here, Samantha."

"I. . ." She let her hand fall from the doorknob. She cleared her throat. "It's just that—"

"Come to me."

She swallowed. Jack's voice was commanding and confident, and she had a sudden physical memory of what it felt like when he kissed her, his hand at the back of her head. His voice sounded like that—sure and steady and in control.

"Or I'll come to you." His smile broadened. "And when I get there, I'll get rid of that dress of yours and carry you over here and toss you on the bed like you've always needed."

Sam blinked. How did he know that's what she'd always needed? He was right, of course, but how did he know? "That could work."

The covers went flying. Jack was on his feet, and the first thing she got a glimpse of was a Michelangelo-quality butt and her eyes nearly popped from her head. Unbelievable. Then he turned around and she gasped. Talk about seeing angels.

His body was poetry. It was song. It was nature at its masculine best. And she let her eyes travel down from those golden, cut shoulders to that tapered waist and tight hips, down those big thighs and sculpted calves right back up to the heavenly zenith between his legs—dark and rigid and swaying in a way that was mesmerizing.

She let her eyes wander back to his face, which was now quite close to hers.

Zzzzzip
.

His hands were at her spaghetti straps, then her elbows, and then her hips. She felt the cool air of the room brush against her breasts and belly and back. The dress slithered to the carpet with a soft hiss of fabric.

She stood before him in nothing but a pair of beige bikini panties.

"Say it," Jack said, his gaze sweeping down her body and back up again. His fingers snaked into her hair. Sam tried to get her lips to move, but she couldn't, which seemed fine, because she had no idea what he wanted her to say anyway.

Jack took the pad of his thumb and stroked her bottom lip, none too gently. Sam's knees began to shake.

"Say what you said in the car, Samantha."

"Uh. . ." Sam tried to recall what it was she might have said that he'd liked so much, but truly, her mind was not functioning. The only things that seemed to be functioning were her female parts, where all sensation and need seemed to be focused.

"Keep both hands on the wheel?" she offered tentatively.

Jack laughed. He slapped both hands on her ass and pulled her close. "You know what I want to hear."

Sam nodded, the fog lifting from her head. Jack apparently liked her unladylike explosion of pent-up lust. She was a little uncomfortable with it, herself. Maybe she was just out of practice. But for this incredibly sexy man with those hands and these eyes and that heat and the carnal way he was smiling down at her—she could do that one small thing to make him happy.

"Fuck me now," she said.

Sam was up off the floor, Jack's hard forearm under her knees and his other arm around her waist. Instantly she felt herself get spun around and tossed through the air. She landed on the bed with an "
oomph
."

Jack grabbed her legs and pulled until her butt hovered at the edge. He propped her feet on his shoulders and grinned down at her.

"I like it when you say that."

"I can tell." Sam's heart thudded. This was not the normal kiss-fondle-insert pattern she was used to. This was not the way it was with Mitch, and certainly not the way it was with that architect guy, whose name she didn't remember and who clearly didn't matter anymore.

"I like a whole lot of things about you, Sam."

"Really?"

Jack stroked his hands up and down Sam's legs, which she was terribly glad she'd shaved that evening, because his fingers slid along the smooth skin, bringing tingles to her spine.

"I like the way you smell. I like your smile because it's genuine and warm and pulls me in." His hands cupped her butt. "I like your cute little ass."

Sam moaned.

Jack's fingers brushed across the swell of her breasts and flicked at her nipples, which were alarmingly hard. "I just love your breasts, Sam."

She sighed, the pleasure so intense it was almost pain. It
was
pain—the pain of deprivation. She felt tears sting her eyes.

Jack wasn't done. He traced his fingers down the center of her belly, then slid them up her sides to her hair. "You have beautiful curls and such a pretty little neck." Jack leaned forward, pressing her legs back toward her shoulders, as he licked her throat. "I like the way you taste, baby. I want to taste you everywhere. Would that be all right?"

"Oh
God
!"

Jack let up on the pressure and straightened again, and Sam felt his hands slide down the whole length of her body to her feet. He grasped them. He studied them intensely. Sam watched, amused, as Jack began to delicately lick at each toe on her left foot, then her right. It tickled, and she giggled.

Sam squirmed when Jack began to slowly suck at each toe, but he held her tight as he took his time. Each toe was slurped into his wet and hot mouth and his tongue swirled as he sucked, one toe after the next, with great attention and concentration. She was wondering if maybe Jack had a foot fetish when he suddenly stopped.

"I have a thing for your feet," he said, looking down at her sheepishly just before he dragged his tongue along the length of each sole. "I hope you don't mind."

Sam shook her head rapidly. "I can live with that."

Jack then pushed her legs together, knees straight. He nibbled and licked his way down each Achilles tendon and each calf and the ticklish back of each knee and both thighs until he ended at the crotch of her panties.

Sam tensed a little, all the blood rushing to her head and all the moisture collecting in her underwear. This was the part that scared her a little—the actual sex. This was what she craved and missed and needed and this was what she wasn't sure would be a smart thing to do.

How in the world could she look Jack in the eye as they strutted around town pretending to be a couple after she'd coupled with him? How was a woman supposed to collect her paycheck after that?

Then Jack began sucking at her swollen lips through her panties and Sam howled with pleasure. "Oh, oh, oh
yeah
!"

He laughed, the sound muffled by the silky underwear. He began to push his tongue gently into the fabric-covered hollow between her lips; then he kissed the tender inside of her thighs and nibbled at her belly, all while she moaned and sighed and squealed.

"I also really like the noises you make, Sam," Jack said, taking a breath. "You make some very sexy little noises."

"
Oooh. Oh. Yes
."

"And you know what?" Jack curled his hand inside the crotch of her panties and slid his fingers up and down her slit, then gently pushed inside her. "I can't wait to hear how you sound when you're coming all over me."

Sam began to pant. She felt his fingers push farther into her body and his thumb seek out her excruciatingly sensitive clit and she could feel herself tremble. Her hips began to push back at him.

"I have a feeling that's going to be soon, Sam. Am I right?" He intensified his probing and increased the pressure with his thumb. He put his lips on her left nipple and bit gently, and Sam gasped at the unfairness of his expertise. She was going to come right then, ten seconds after he'd put his hands on her. How embarrassing.

"Oooh God
yesssss
right
now
!"

Jack slammed his lips onto hers and murmured to her as the pleasure rolled in an ebb and flow that caused her fingers to go numb and her ears to roar, and then she exploded, but he kept kissing her, stroking her, whispering to her as she wallowed in the rich, dark pull of the best non-solo orgasm she could ever recall having.

Jack dragged his lips from her mouth and down her neck, across her breasts, down her belly, all while he gently removed his hand from inside her, swept her panties up and off her legs, and ripped open a condom. She had to laugh, even in her orgasmic haze, because Jack was so smooth it was entertaining. Where he'd stashed the condom she had no idea, but before she could catch her breath he was covered up and smiling down at her.

Sam's throat suddenly tightened. He was so beautiful and she had her legs spread open and she felt the hot tears spill down her cheeks. "It's been a long time for me, Jack," she said.

He stopped. He frowned. He dropped to his elbows and cradled her head in his hands. Jack kissed her wet cheeks and stroked the hair from her forehead.

"I want you bad, Sam. But if this is too much for you, I understand. We don't have to do this, sweetheart."

"What? Are you nuts?" Sam smacked both hands down on that perfect butt and guided him toward her. "Yes we do! There's no way I can stop now. That's the first decent orgasm I've had in the new millennium."

Jack laughed softly and flexed his hips a bit, and Sam felt her body begin to give way to his ample erection. He was tentative at first, stroking her face and kissing her and easing himself into her. Sam could hardly believe the sensation—she didn't remember ever feeling this full in her life. Maybe she never had been, not like this. And she wrapped her arms around Jack's muscular back and hooked her heels onto those rock-hard thighs and did what she apparently did best in his company—she begged for it.

"Please. God yes, take me," she whispered, learning in a hurry why Jack had a reputation as a ladies' man. He knew what he was doing. No doubt about it.

Jack moved his hips in a slow grind, with a gentle determination, until he had every bit of himself inside her. He cooed to her, kissed her, cupped her ass in his hands while he leaned into her and gave her the best fucking she'd had in her life. Then it got even better.