Summer went hot and loose all over as she watched the change come over his face, his eyes glinting a hard, glassy green, almost as if they were lit from within. There was fire there. And stark command. And Jesus, it was Jamie looking at her like he was going to eat her alive.
He kissed her again, and it was all hunger and need and hurting, he kissed her so damn hard. It was everything she’d ever needed. Her body surged against his, everything just out of control. She couldn’t think. It was as if he’d shocked her senseless, and all she knew was his hot tongue in her mouth, the flavor of him, the scents of something dark—sandalwood or patchouli mixed with a little motor oil—and all of it so deliciously male she never wanted to stop breathing him in. She was soaking wet simply from kissing him, from feeling the authority in the way he held her.
You are in big trouble.
She didn’t care.
“Your bedroom,” he muttered from between clenched teeth.
Somehow she stumbled into the house. He was right behind her, holding her wrist hard at the small of her back, his body tight against hers, kissing and biting her shoulder as they moved into the bedroom. He whirled her body in his arms, everything happening so fast she had no time to think. He stripped her nightie off and it fell around her feet, leaving her naked. Then he took a step back and tore his shirt over his head.
“Oh . . .” It came out on a sigh of pure, burning desire.
His body was amazing. Broad shoulders, muscular chest. The washboard abs, the narrow waist. Even his tattoo was sexy—she’d always found tattoos sexy—the words memento mortalitatem tuam, Latin for “remember your mortality,” she knew, tattooed in a line down his ribs on his right side in bold calligraphic script. And oh, God, when had he gotten his nipples pierced? The two small, steel rings made her want to curl her tongue around them.
Her gaze flicked up to his, then down again as she heard him unbutton his jeans, the quiet snick of the zipper coming down. The fact that he wore nothing underneath made her sex clench. But he kept the damn jeans on, the solid ridge of his hard cock hidden beneath the worn denim, tempting her. She could hardly stand it.
She licked her lips. “Jamie—”
“Shh, Summer Grace. I need you to be quiet now, sugar. No discussion. Because now isn’t the time to negotiate and I am going to have to rein myself in to keep things under control.”
“Don’t, Jamie. We don’t need control.”
He stepped forward and slid his hand around her neck. She gasped in pleasure, felt his fingers flex in response.
“Yes we damn well do, sweetheart. No arguments. Just fucking kiss me, girl.”
She sighed through the slight constriction of her throat, loving the way he held her at that edge as she tilted her chin and his mouth closed over hers. She opened to his searching tongue, losing herself in the sweetness of his mouth. In his utter command.
When he pulled away, she was panting.
“Right now you are mine,” he whispered against her cheek, his hand still on her throat, his breath warm on her skin.
“Yes,” she murmured.
Her body already belonged to him. She couldn’t think of anything else at that moment but the desire—the need—coursing through her flesh, taking her over. He was taking her over. If he didn’t really touch her she was going to explode.
With his hand wrapped around her neck using only the slightest pressure, he backed her up step by step until she felt the mattress behind her legs.
“Down you go, now,” he said, his tone quiet. He was so damn commanding he didn’t need to use a harsh tone, a raised voice. She’d imagined a thousand times what being with him would be like—and, as she’d gotten older and discovered her desire for kink, what being dominated by him would be like. But never had she imagined it being this good. This natural.
He exerted the tiniest bit of pressure, guiding her to sit on the bed, her damp thighs hitting the cool sheets.
He leaned over her, clamping his hand a bit tighter. “This time, Summer Grace,” he told her, “it’s just gonna be you and me and the tiniest edge of kink. Because I fucking need you right now. Do you understand? Later, if you want to, we can do full negotiations. But I have to admit I am in no shape to do that. And judging by your eyes, your breath, your silence, by how beautifully hard your nipples are, neither are you, sweetheart. So tell me again. Is this still a ‘yes’?”
“Oh yes,” she breathed, the words whispering on a long sigh. There was no other possible answer.
He smiled, his dimples making small, charming divots in his cheeks, and she had a flash of Jamie at sixteen. That was when she’d first fallen for him. It had only taken fourteen years to get to this point. Fourteen years and her decision to finally end her pursuit of him. But he was right in front of her and she was naked and he was touching her—had kissed her! The kissing was a revelation in itself, the flavor of him still warm on her tongue. The answer had to be yes.
He kept his gaze on hers as he slid his hand down and his fingers bore down on the tender pressure points just below her collarbone, hurting her the tiniest bit. Letting her know his power, that he understood very thoroughly how to cause pain with the simplest touch. Then he moved a bit lower, between her breasts, pressed down, making a small hurting spot deep in her flesh. She sighed into the pain, needing to be touched. Needing to feel that little bit of pain. Needing Jamie. As if he heard her need, he gathered both breasts in his hands, kneading gently, his thumbs teasing her nipples, and pleasure arced into her like an electric current. He pinched one nipple and she gasped.
“You like that, do you, sugar? Oh yeah, I can tell you do. No, no. Hold still for me.”
He pinched again and she had to bite her lip not to move. It felt so good.
“I can see how hard you’re trying. Good girl. Now try harder.”
He pinched her again, both nipples this time, and she cried out.
“Still,” he ordered.
To her surprise he leaned down and pressed his lips in that space between her breasts where he’d dug into the pressure point there. She let her head fall back with a sigh of pure pleasure. The contrast of sensations was making her head spin. He was making her head spin. That little bit of mind fuck and the fact that it was Jamie. That fact was mind fuck in itself.
“Oh yes . . .”
© Eden Bradley, 2015