And just as she was thinking he might grant it, he rose up, and suddenly she found herself flipped over on her belly with her ass being hauled into the air. “Fuck, oh fuck,” she breathed, making it a chant as he left her there tormented and open and empty while he donned a condom. Her fists twisted in the sheets. She backed her ass up to him like a cat in heat.
“Yeah, I like that,” he murmured, stroking a hand over her hip, his normally amicable voice dripping with lecherous cruelty. “Maybe I’ll just look for a while.”
Beyond words, Starla could only turn her face into the mattress in frustration, but in her head, she called him every scathing epithet she knew. When hard teeth bit into her left ass cheek, though, she tossed her head back and yelped. “Jesus Christ!” He licked the sting away and gently sent a teasing fingertip through her wetness, pausing to circle her clit until she could hardly hold still for him anymore. With the lingering ache of his bite, the hollow yearning in her pussy, and the pleasurable caress of his fingers, she was drowning in conflicting sensations, held at the precipice of something huge just beyond her perception, waiting for his next move to take her there. A moment later, his fingers disappeared only to be replaced with something thicker, hotter, longer. The need that tore through her was almost a cramp. “Please.”
He pushed his cock between her legs. Not inside where she craved him, but sliding along her lips, back and forth, back and forth. The mattress caved where his hands came down on either side of hers, supporting his weight over her, and the harsh rasp of his breath brushed her left ear. Surrounded by his looming presence on all sides, she felt at once shielded from the world and unbearably vulnerable.
“Jared, please.” Her voice broke and she hated it.
He shifted behind her, and the thick shaft that had been grazing her outer lips pulled back to nestle at her entrance. Starla seized both his wrists in a death grip as he gave her an inch, no more. She tried in vain to push back on him, but he only kneed her thighs wider, giving her less room to maneuver. She hated him right then, even more so when he pulled back and resumed his leisurely thrusts along the seam of her sex. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Enjoying myself,” he said sweetly.
“You’re trying to kill me.”
Kisses fell along her left shoulder, behind her neck, around to the right shoulder. “Never.” Just when she wanted to scream, he pulled back again, playing his tormenting game with her, and slowly, oh so fucking slowly gave her his entire length as her fingers clenched on the straining muscles and tendons of his wrists. But no sooner had he taken her to the hilt than he pulled all the way out again. As he left her, the wet sound of her spasming body was almost forlorn, and she wanted to curse at him.
“You feel too good,” he rasped, the hard edges of his teeth making her nerve endings sing as he scraped them along the side of her neck. His beard tickled so much, she tried to squeeze her ear to her shoulder. He only lifted his hand to grasp her jaw and hold her in place, wrenching a gasp from her, sending shivers through the part of her that was dying for him.
Undulating her hips against his groin, she taunted him. “Too much for you, cowboy?”
With a growl, he claimed her again, thrusting so high, so deep, she couldn’t cry out because he had just driven the breath from her. “I’ll show you too much.”
Fuck, he did. He settled deep and rode her hard, rode her flat against the mattress, and when she squirmed, he only kneed her legs wider and rode her harder. Sweat slicked their frenzied movements against each other. His hand clenched a fistful of her hair, and he bit her on the neck, nibbled up to her ear, sighed endearments there that only made her heart soar higher.
Perfect, he was so perfect—the exact balance she hadn’t known she’d been looking for: the roughness she loved and the sweetness she’d always craved but never found. It didn’t have to be one or the other. She could have it all. With him, she could have everything.
Chapter Twenty-three
She wrung him empty, her beautiful body taking everything his had to give and demanding more. And when he came, she followed, biting blankets to stifle her cries and milking every ounce of energy and every iota of resistance from him along with his come.
“Oh baby,” she sighed, that lovely sigh that wasn’t so much coming down as drifting along. Jared kissed a line down the back of her neck as he gently pulled away, leaving her warmth and softness and feeling strangely like he was leaving the only place he’d ever belonged. “That was…”
“I know,” he murmured, making quick work of disposing the condom so he could crawl back in bed beside her as quickly as possible. She hadn’t moved except to pull her arms underneath her body. Was she cold? Just in case, he tossed the comforter over her gloriously naked body. One sleepily grateful brown eye peered at him through the tangle of her blonde hair.
“I’ve never…” After a moment, her hair puffed out with her sigh and the eye he could see closed. “Jesus, it sounds so corny.”
Under the covers, Jared stroked a hand down the smoothness of her back, feeling the grace of her curves and allowing his fingers to knead wherever they pleased. “Tell me.”
“I’ve never felt this way. You don’t have to lie to me or say the same thing, but please, can you not say ‘thank you for your honesty’ or anything like that, because I really don’t think I could—”
“Starla. It’s okay. I’m right there with you.”
“I shouldn’t even go there. Things are so crazy—”
“That they are.”
“—but you’re amazing, and if I do anything to fuck this up, please just remember that I don’t mean to.”
“Can I say something?”
She took a deep breath, blew it out. “Okay.”
“When I found you, I definitely wasn’t looking for you. I wasn’t looking for anyone. But now that you’re here…there’s nowhere else I would rather be. I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”
She smiled, though he only knew she did because her eye crinkled at the corner. Unwilling to miss that smile, he reached up and swept the hair back from her face so she could bless him with the beauty of it. It was a rare thing, a genuine smile on Starla’s face. He didn’t want to miss a single one.
Before long, she dozed off, but Jared had too much energy pent up to sleep. Which was odd, because sex like that should knock a man out for the night. Instead, his nerves were vibrating under his skin, and this woman was doing it to him. He felt alive for the first time since…well, for the first time in a long, long while. He pulled on his jeans and threw on a T-shirt, then headed to the living room to do something; he wasn’t sure what. Maybe crack open a beer and sit out on the back deck, or find something to watch on TV. When he picked up his cell phone from the coffee table, though, he knew exactly what the night had in store. There was a message from Ghost, received about fifteen minutes ago.
If you still want to do this, I’m at DM. Leaving at midnight.
It was exactly the opportunity he’d been waiting for. All of Starla’s troubles, a majority of his dad’s objections, and the danger to his girls, if it existed, could all be eradicated with the slam of jailhouse bars behind a certain slimy individual. The faster Jared could make that happen, the happier and safer everyone would be. If he had to work with a sworn enemy to accomplish it, so be it.
DM. Dermamania. Jared tapped back: I’ll be there and went back to his bedroom to change. Somehow he expected the occasion might call for all-black attire, even though they were just looking for the guy, not breaking and entering. A stop by his gun safe wouldn’t be unheard of either. Better to have a gun and not need it than need a gun and not have it. In his bed, Starla slept deeply, the covers rising and falling with her easy breath. He wasn’t going to disturb her, especially about this—she would either try to talk him out of it, or she would stay up worrying all night. Or she would even want to go with him, which he would never allow. If all went according to plan, he could wake her up in the morning with the good news: all her troubles were over.
***
The lights were on at Dermamania and Ghost’s car sat dark and alone in the lot, so Jared parked a few spaces down and walked to the shop’s front door. It was ten till midnight, so maybe Ghost had finished up already. The door was locked, but after a moment, he appeared to let Jared in, not looking at all happy about this whole thing. He wasn’t the only one.
“Yeah, gimme a minute,” Ghost muttered, then headed back toward one of the stations. “I just finished with a client.”
“No rush.” Jared glanced around the tattoo shop, wondering where Starla worked—but he found it quickly because, well, she had a black wooden name plaque over her station with teal starbursts painted on it. Her workspace was tidier than he had figured it would be, bottles and ink all lined up neatly along the wall, waiting for her to come back. He’d never been inside a tattoo parlor before, but the black chairs made him think of the dentist’s office. He imagined sitting in that while Starla created art on his skin, discovering to his surprise it wasn’t an unpleasant thought in the least. It was a nice place, walls painted a tasteful dark red and gray and decorated with brooding art. Probably Brian’s. Jared had always heard the guy was an exceptionally talented artist. He really hoped he was back up and running again soon—no one deserved to go out like that.