Mercy(White Collared Part 1)(31)

He fixed his hands under her arms and yanked her to her feet. As he kissed and nibbled at the sensitive spot under her ear, his nimble fingers got to work divesting her of the blouse. Desperate for his touch, her nipples poked against the fabric of her bra. He brushed his fingertips across her collarbone, so agonizingly light that if her eyes had been closed she’d swear a feather danced across her skin.

She shivered with arousal, desperately wanting to force his hand to her breast. His fingers drifted down her sternum. He spread his fingers over her small breasts and held them there.

Not. Doing. Anything.

Reminding her of who truly held the power.

The muscles inside her pussy tightened, eliciting a small whimper that tugged up his lips in satisfaction. Only then did he finally move, the rough pad of his thumb caressing her nipple through her bra, touching her as if this was the first time he’d ever touched a woman. So soft and so reverently, she could cry. She had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from demanding more.

With a flick of his wrist, he unclasped her bra with one hand and slid the straps down her shoulders. He lowered his head to her breast and slipped a nipple into his mouth. Her hands itched to plunge into his thick hair and clasp him to her, but she sensed if she did, he’d stop.

He peered up behind his long lashes.

And bit her.

The wet folds between her thighs fluttered, and a foreign sound erupted from her throat. He soothed the bite with tiny licks and then sucked the bud into his mouth so tightly it teetered on the edge of pain. Tension built low in her belly. She was going to come, and he hadn’t even touched her below the waist. Moving to her other breast, he gave it the same treatment. Her inner muscles throbbed. She ached for something to fill her. His fingers. His cock. She didn’t care at this point. Whatever he wanted to give her. She’d take it. She’d die without it.

As the storm raged outside, the wind whistling and hail pummeling the windows, an even greater storm raged within. But as the orgasm began to stir, Jax stopped. Cradled her face between his hands. And stared at her as if deciding what to do next.

She whimpered, not caring if it made her seem weak. Right now she’d let him do anything he wanted to her. Anything but stop.

“Jax?” Not knowing the rules, she took one hand from her face and kissed his fingertips.

His eyes fluttered shut and he sighed. She laved the webbing between his fingers with her tongue, tasting the salt on his skin. His hands were large and his nails even, as if he’d had them manicured. But they were far from unblemished. Tiny white scars, of varying sizes, marred both sides of his hand.

His eyes shot wide open.

Dangerous.

Hungry.

Predatory.

He dropped to his knees and smoothed her slacks down over her damp thighs. Now flush with her drenched, white lace panties, he growled low in his throat, pressing a gentle kiss directly above her clit, and then he rolled her panties down her legs. His nose bumped her slit as he deeply inhaled, his grumble of appreciation easing all of her insecurities.

Using the top of his head, he propelled her to the bed, the silk of his hair like a whisper across her skin. He eased her to the edge and pressed his hands to her belly, bending her back to lie on top of the comforter and then spreading her thighs for his perusal. Her fingers curled into the blankets as she waited for him to relieve the pulsing in her pussy.

“I need to taste you, Katerina. I’ve been dreaming . . .” He didn’t finish his sentence but instead swiped his tongue up one side of her labia and then the other. “You’re so wet. You want this don’t you? Tell me you want me.”

“I do.” Her hips bucked in search of his mouth. “I want you, Jax.”

“Fuck,” he muttered, stretching the lips of her vagina with his fingers, baring the heart of her core. “You got me, baby. You fucking got me.” His tongue probed inside her tight channel, teasing her like a little cock. She arched in an attempt to take him deeper, but he restrained her with an arm over her pelvis, holding her in place.

As if she were in the last mile of a marathon, she gasped for air, a heavy pressure lodging in her chest, her heart sprinting. Sweat beaded on her forehead.

Not now, damn it. She refused to let the anxiety steal this from her. Jax won’t hurt me.

When he pulled back the clitoral hood, exposing her tiny bud and gently flicking the tip of his tongue over it, all thought drained from her mind. The discomfort in her chest lifted, and although her heart continued to race, liquid heat flowed like lava in her belly, pressure winding into taut coils.

Murmurs of approval reverberated in Jax’s throat as he lapped up the proof of her desire, driving her closer and closer to the edge of the cliff. A thick finger slipped inside, stretching her, testing her readiness. “Your pussy’s like a drug. I’ll never get enough.”