Complicated Creatures: Part One Page 21

  “I’m going to fuck you so good, so thoroughly, you’re going to come yourself hoarse,” he promised, hitching her up so she wound her legs around him. He caught her mouth again, swollen and damp, groaning as he pushed her into the back of the door, rocking her against the hard line of his cock with galvanic, exacting pressure. Jack slipped a hand between them, popping open the button of her jeans, tugging the zipper down before his fingers unerringly found the center of her, his thumb gliding tenderly along the gentle ridge of her clit, his fingers massaging, flexing, tracing the outline of her before dipping into the heat, making her buck against him.

  “Do you know how you feel to me?” Jack asked her urgently, feeling a little crazy with his need. “Do you know how good you feel against me, Samantha?” He licked her lip, lush and red, giving in to the urge to bite her, to suckle and savor her as his thumb worked in insistent circles, adjusting pressures until he was rewarded with her caught breaths and soft keens. She tugged away from his mouth when it became too much, her head falling back against the door with her eyes squeezed shut as she sucked in a tight gasp of air. Jack stared at her, mesmerized as she rode the edge of pleasure, legs tight against his hips, squeezing rhythmically, as if she couldn’t decide whether to push harder against him or pull away.

  “Don’t fight me, Samantha,” he told her. “I’m going to do this all night. Make you come and come and come until you can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t stop me—”

  “Fuuuck,” she hissed, arms tightening around his neck, her hands groping his shoulders as she pushed hard against his hand, jerking a little. “Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, just—” her hips rolled, pressing her clit into his thumb in sinuous little movements, forcing his fingers deeper inside her. “Jack…” She moved again, chasing the pleasure, head falling forward to open her mouth against his neck. “Jack,” she panted, teeth grazing as she called out, “Like that, Jack,” she urged. “Just… like… that…”

  Jack pressed his face to her hair, breathing in her scent, murmuring encouragements, giving her the exact right pressure she needed to reach the apex as she gasped and jutted, begging him to touch her, press her there, there. God, yes. There. Jack—please. Please. Please… He felt Samantha clench, her body stiffening while arms and legs squeezed around him, tightly impaled against his fingers, those slick inner muscles rippling, clasping…

  Jack spun, carrying her across the suite to the king-sized bed, lowering her gently as she shuddered, watching him strip her shoes and jeans with sloe, pleasure-soaked eyes. He stood over her, tearing off his sweater in impatience, unbuttoning his jeans. Samantha sat up slowly on her elbows, one leg bent against the bed. He saw the dark tangle only narrowly hiding her sex glistening from her orgasm. Jack wanted to devour her, consume her totally. He was burning, burning up for her. He couldn’t remember feeling this urgency, this madness for another person. He was ravenous for her. He had to have her.

  “Jack,” she called, holding a slender hand out to him. “Come here.” He paused, hands stilling on his jeans. He clasped her outstretched hand, letting her pull him to her, settling between the cradle of her thighs. He slid his forearms under her shoulder blades, feeling the pounding of her heart echoing the pounding of his. He laced the line of her collarbone with hot, humid kisses before drawing up, taking her mouth again. Jack couldn’t get enough of her. Couldn’t drink enough from her mouth.

  “Do you have protection?” she asked, pulling back, her expression drowsy with euphoria. She traced the wing of his brow with her finger, the line of his cheekbone.

  He nodded, closing his eyes and turning his face into her hand, kissing the plump flesh of her palm. “I’ll take care of you,” he whispered.

  They held onto each other for a moment, enjoying the shape and feel of their meshed limbs, the warmth of skin-on-skin before Jack retreated, dipping his head to place a line of kisses from her throat to her sternum. He dipped low to her belly, his tongue swirling in the indent of her belly button, making her laugh softly. Samantha ran her fingers through his hair, nails grazing ever so lightly, like she had the night she’d let him fall asleep in her lap.

  He closed his eyes momentarily, enjoying the sensation before dropping to his knees at the end of the bed, pulling her forward until her knees were resting over his shoulders. He breathed her in, nuzzling the junction of her inner thigh and sex, luxuriating in the musky, wet scent of her. He dipped his nose against her, following with the searching, silky probe of his tongue, lapping at her, listening to the guttural sounds of pleasure she made as she tilted her hips up to him, opening herself to his exploration.

  “You’re Eden, Samantha,” he whispered against her, licking into her softness, spreading her with his fingers. His tongue twirled against her clit, sucking on its silkiness, driving her mad, making her cry out in bliss. When she came again, holding him hard and close to her, Jack grabbed her wrists, manacling them against her own thighs, listening to her incoherent imprecations, feeling the involuntary clutch of her sex against his tongue. Samantha cried out, begging him to take her, fuck her, make it last, please make it last, while she came against his mouth like a wanton, making him murmur his delight, whispering praises against the most sensitive and secret part of her. As her tremors subsided, Jack lapped at her gently, shallowly, bringing her back from the pinnacle with honeyed, shameless kisses that drew out her shudders. He delighted in the wetness that flowed for him, because of him, only for him.

  Jack released her slowly, raising up from his haunches, smiling down at her as she sighed and groaned her happiness. Her dark eyes shone bright as hellfire. The way Samantha looked at him in that moment made his chest feel full and tight all at once, as if it were being constricted, her pleasure a cataplasm. The longer she stared back at him, the harder he became, until he was nearly in pain, dying for her, to be as close as he could to her, as deep within this woman as he could get.

  He kicked his shoes off, pushing down his jeans and pulling a couple condoms out of his wallet. As he began to straighten, Samantha came off the bed, surprising him. She toppled him to the mattress in a single fluid movement. She straddled him, her stunning body defined by the dim light filtering through the windows.

  “Magnificent,” he breathed, running the tips of his fingers down her sides, over the soft skin of her belly. He thrummed her clit as she leaned to grab the condom he’d dropped on the bedspread. She tore it open and smoothed it over him, her eyes admiring, a pleased smile on her lips as she looked him over.

  “You deserve to be worshiped,” she murmured, leaning forward to kiss his flat nipples, her pink tongue coaxing them to hardened points. “You please me,” she told him as he watched her dip two fingers into herself, scooping up a small dollop of her own cream. “The proof,” she whispered, using her liquid-coated fingers to clasp him tightly, stroking up from the base to the corona, making Jack strain against her secure grip, balancing the knife edge of pleasure and oh-so-delicious pain.

  Samantha raised herself up on her knees, coming down on him slowly…excruciatingly slowly. She eased him a few inches inside her before rising on a powerful clench, making him call her name and grit his teeth, the tendons of his neck standing out in harsh relief as she did it again and again, taking more of him each time. Each and every thrust translated into maddening and deliberate friction. Jack choked out curses and pleasure and praise, urging her to go harder, faster, more…just give me more, but Samantha kept his hips pinned down with her thighs, her hands on his stomach and chest, forcing him to accept her pace, making him relax into the hot, tight clasp of her body until he was mindless… just movement and sound and the feel of sex so good he thought he might be hallucinating it.

  Samantha drew his hands up, interlacing their fingers and using them as a counter balance as she rode him, rising and falling, circling her hips in a tight, hot grind. Jack lay helpless against the onslaught, issuing reflexive groans as he threw his head back, awash in sensation. Samantha powered against him, milking his cock s
o exquisitely he saw stars, all the blood collected only to serve her, to keep her impaled to him.

  She pulled back suddenly, drawing the heavy, plum head of him against her slick seam, gathering the moisture and rubbing her clit with his cock in fast and sublime swivels. Jack jerked against the pressure, surprised when she suddenly came off him, tearing off the condom to suck him deep into her mouth, tongue flat against the heavy vein, throat working as she sealed him to her. The suction was so intense Jack struggled against the excruciating rise, fought to stave off the climax against the intensity of the pressure.

  “Christ, Samantha!” he cried, voice strained as she worked him. “Jesus, I’m too close…” he struggled, hands trembling as he clenched her hair, trying to drag her back up.

  “Shhh,” she whispered against his skin, dark eyes pinning him with wicked intent. She licked the broad head, her tongue touching against the slit where his pre-come pearled. “You’ll lie back and take it,” she told him, holding him still as the tip of her tongue darted out to lick him again. Slowly. Delicately. Taunting him. “You’ll take what I give you, Jack,” she told him, her voice low. “You’ll give me that pleasure.” Samantha sucked him in deep, her fingers working his perineum and testes with provocative pressure, squeezing him in tantalizing intervals as she gave him the best head of his life.

  Jack gripped her shoulders hard, indenting her skin, unsure if he was trying to push her off or bring her closer. He wanted to come inside of her, he wanted to watch her face, wanted to make her come yet again; he wanted, he wanted… God, what the fuck did he want??

  “Samantha!” he shouted, his mind blanking as the sudden, incredible pressure of his orgasm burst down his spine. “YES!! Fuck, YES,” he came on a keening groan, fragmenting and releasing into her mouth, his spasms rocking him into her throat in prolonged jolts, vivid and dazing.

  As Jack finally stilled, his mind and body trapped in the voluptuous undertow while he struggled to catch his breath, he felt her rest against him, her breath searing and soft against his cock as her hand stroked the tender skin on the inside of his thigh. They lay there for long, silent moments, while he listened to her breathe, his fingers curling into the soft tendrils of her hair, attempting to process the experience.

  He’d had a great deal of sex in his life, but this was completely unlike anything he’d encountered. He felt…taken. Utterly consumed. One minute he was drawing the climaxes out of her, directing the pace, in control. The next moment he was defenseless against the way she took him, incoherent as she drove him into an intense, nearly unendurable orgasm. Yet he’d been locked outside her, forced to experience the sex without truly experiencing her. As amazing as it was, Jack felt strangely… bereft.

  “You wreck me,” he confessed, kissing her mouth, tasting himself on her. “Utterly.” Kiss. “Completely.” Kiss. “Devastatingly…” Jack sighed as her hand closed around him, thumb grazing delicately over the hypersensitive head, drawing another shudder from him as he kissed her mouth again. Samantha smiled against him before slipping off the bed and walking naked to the bathroom.

  Jack took a minute to gather himself, trying to clear his head of the post-sex euphoria fog. He could hear her fiddling with the bathtub faucets, pouring a bath, even as she turned on the shower. He wondered at that as he stepped into the bathroom, watching the large tub fill. He followed her into the shower. She was soaping up, her body flushed and slick, her back to him. His eyes were immediately drawn to a slash along her side, long healed. Another smaller one, on her hip. He bit his lip as he reached out to touch it, his eyes gravitating to the bullet wound in her shoulder he’d seen on the boat. Jack pulled her into him, kissing the scar. Samantha tensed, as if waiting for him to ask her about it. He lifted his head.

  “You shower before you bathe?” he asked instead, sensing her guard.

  “That’s for you,” she told him over his shoulder. “Why don’t you get in there and let me take care of you?” she suggested, turning in his arms. “I’m almost done here. Just give me a minute.”

  Jack blinked down at her, sluggishly processing. “You’ve taken care of me, Samantha. Better than I could have imagined,” he murmured, pulling her toward him even as she pushed him gently back. He realized suddenly that she was distancing herself without appearing to. He could feel her withdrawal even as she smiled at him, soapy hands caressing his sides as she stepped back under the shower head, rinsing off. Whatever was happening, it unseated him, but he respected her request, retreating and settling into the tub as she’d asked. He leaned back, dousing his hair before coming back up and closing his eyes, trying not to overanalyze as hot water lapped against him, fragrant and soothing against his loose, aching muscles.

  Jack heard the shower stop, heard her toweling her hair and body dry, but he kept his eyes closed, willing himself to stay pliant and relaxed. He felt Samantha slip behind him, her legs sliding around his shoulders as she sat at the edge of the tub. She must have found lotion in the bathroom, because she’d slicked her hands up, massaging his shoulders, neck and chest with sure, consistent strokes.

  “Dear God,” he groaned, dropping his head against her as she rubbed the column of his neck; she seemed to know all the right pressure points, unwinding and soothing him. “Where did you learn how to do this?” he asked on another long groan as she rubbed tension from his shoulder blades, once again making him feel heedless and sybaritic.

  Samantha kissed his temple before drawing her thumbs behind his ears, massaging his head with soothing pressure. “Believe it or not, martial arts,” she told him, cosseting him with her forearms as she massaged shampoo into his scalp, drawing him back against her stomach. “When you’re learning vital strike points, you also learn the balance of the most pleasurable ones as well. Yin and yang philosophy.” She found and rubbed a knot from his lats. “You worked out like a fiend today. You’re bound to be tight from all that boxing. A cat could rub up against you right now and you’d be happy,” she teased.

  “If that’s what we’re calling your pussy, then yeah,” he agreed. “You’d be right.”

  Samantha laughed softly, working his muscles for a while longer before he dunked down into the water, rinsing the shampoo from his hair and the soap from his body. Jack stood from the tub, accepting a heavy, plush towel from her, pleased with the way she admired him as he patted himself dry. When she moved to turn away, Jack stepped forward, tilting her face up for a kiss.

  “I want you again,” he murmured against her mouth. “Fire for fire, baby. You gave. Now you’ll receive.” He dropped the towel, slipping his hands around her and bringing her close within the band of his arms.

  Samantha looked up at him with those dark, arresting eyes of hers. “What do you want?” she asked, her breath catching.

  “I want you under me. Open for me. Will you let me in this time?” he asked, running his thumb slowly along her jawline.

  She closed her eyes, fingers trailing along his stomach.

  “Will you?” he asked again, tilting her chin up, forcing her to open her eyes and look at him.

  They stared at each other for long moments until she slipped her arms around him, rising on her tip-toes to kiss him so thoroughly, Jack could do little else but give himself over to the sweet, piquant taste of her mouth.

  Chapter 14

  October—Early morning

  The Pfister Hotel in Milwaukee, Wisconsin

  J A C K

  Samantha lay asleep on her side, facing him, her injured arm resting in front of her, leaving a space between them. Jack reached up to stroke her brow, touching lightly so he wouldn’t wake her. He was exhausted and replete, uncharacteristically fighting sleep. But he stayed awake, wanting to look at her. Examine her beautiful body. Watch her unguarded face in repose.

  As the early morning sun began to filter gently into the room, Jack looked his fill, touching her lightly, gently, here and there. Her skin was so soft, so supple, covering the sleek and disguised power of her muscles. He was begi
nning to doubt whether he’d ever tire of touching her, seeing her relaxed like this. Especially after hours of mutual, mind-blowing hedonistic worship. Samantha had absolute control of her body. She was its master, and it was her tool. She’d shown him again and again her power and her passion, driving him over the ledge as surely as she drove herself, relentless in her pursuit of their pleasure, taking the reins from him more often than not.

  Jack was unused to her level of play, the constant give and take. He was accustomed to control, to directing the scenes. Samantha maneuvered their positions as seamlessly as he did, fucking him as much as he fucked her. He understood now what it felt like to be with an equal. A true sexual partner. There was no imbalance between them. She gave as good as she got. And it may have been the most memorable night of his life, joining the handful he’d had with her since they’d met. He marveled at that—how quickly things had changed in the short time he’d become close to her.

  The room brightened slowly, and he noticed the bruising on her rib cage for the first time, evidence of her spar with Simon. Jack felt instantly angry and contrite. He recalled gripping her sides hard at the pinnacle, pistoning into her as if his life had depended on it. He wanted to hurt Simon for marking her, for looking at her, for sharing little jokes with her. He didn’t care if it was irrational. It felt right to be furious for this damage to her body. He bent down, brushing a kiss against the bruise, his eyes finding the scars on her side and hip again. They were pale from age against the rest of her skin and marled; evidence that she’d been hurt badly, repeatedly. Anger heated him. As he caressed her scars, Samantha stiffened in sleep, murmuring as she shifted, her leg coming up, putting more space between them.