Kneeling, Elle looked up at him. His face was a mask of desire, lines etched into his skin, white lines around his mouth. His eyes were closed, as he savored the feel of her hands stroking his heavy, thick erection. She felt his lust rising, his desire spreading and it should have scared her, but his love was woven so tightly into every image, into every thought, that she only wanted to feel more, to please him more, to give him--everything.
Hunger invaded, sharp and relentless, a need to feel Jackson, to know the shape and texture of him, to have his shaft filling her mouth, and feel his need of her--for her--filling her mind. She leaned into him, one hand sliding up his inner thigh, the other massaging his balls. She licked along the broad head, a curling sweep of her tongue, teasing him a little, feeling the jerk, the pulse that followed as she licked him like an ice cream cone.
Jackson's jaw was set, his hands balled into two tight fists, a mixture of such longing and restraint incredibly beautiful to her and such a sexy turn-on. He didn't grab her hair and thrust his aching cock deep into her throat, recognizing her need to be in total control, but she could tell she was driving him insane with her sensual exploration, her tongue laving and sliding over and around, exploring the hard length of him. His breath left his lungs in a rush as she skimmed her mouth up and down the heavy shaft.
There was no room for anything in her mind but bringing pleasure to Jackson. She wanted to prolong the time, savor it, revel in the way his body became hers. He gave himself totally to her, but a soft growl escaped, and his jaw tightened more, teeth clenching in an effort to stay under control when his desire and need raged like a wildfire.
Keeping her gaze locked with his, Elle parted her lips and, with infinite slowness, took him in, drawing the flared head into the moist velvet heat of her mouth. His body shuddered again. His hips jerked hard, his muscles going tight under her fingers. Even his balls drew tighter in reaction. She moaned, vibrating around his shaft as he slowly sank his length deeper. She heard the heavy rasp of his breath, hoarse and needy.
Love exploded through his mind, hot and hungry and so mixed with lust she didn't know where one started and the other left off. The two emotions were darkly woven together, inseparable, and she realized she wanted it that way. She wanted this, her gift to him, a treasure she could give him, worshiping his body and not allowing ugliness to touch them. His hunger fed hers. Her mouth tightened around him, tongue teasing and probing while she suckled strongly.
Jackson dropped both hands on her shoulders, fingers tightening. "Baby. You have to stop. We're getting out of hand here." His voice was rough, almost unrecognizable.
Oh, yeah. He liked it. He more than liked it. Triumph swept through her. Elation. She ran her tongue up and down his shaft and over the head, teasing at the underside before drawing him deep again, suckling strongly. She was giving everything to her man, showing him love, and no part of Stavros and his ugliness touched them--or could touch them. A kind of euphoria seized her and she engulfed his shaft with her tight mouth, her tongue working magic.
He gasped. "Elle." This time his voice was demanding. His hips shifted. "Feel what you're doing to me." He could barely get the words out, a groan escaping as he tried to keep his body from reacting. It was impossible with the demand of her hungry mouth.
Elle reveled in his slipping control, the way his heart beat into her mouth with every stroke. He filled her, her lips stretching around his girth, his shaft pulsing and jerking against her tongue as she urged him closer, her hands on his hips. He tasted a mix of hot, sexy passion, love and lust and sinful desire. She rubbed her tongue back and forth all along the rigid length of him, paying particular attention to the sensitive spot just under the flared head where he jumped and fireworks exploded in his head each time she concentrated her attention there.
She kept her gaze locked with his, wanting not only the pleasure in his mind, but to see it on his face, in his eyes. The haze, the opaque glitter, the lust rising, the harsh breathing. Her tongue stroked and caressed, teased and danced, all the while she watched his face and the expressions of pleasure chasing through him. She kept up a firm suction even as she bathed the head of his shaft with her tongue, then slowly pulled back until she was sipping on the very tip, watching him carefully. He swore under his breath, his tone ragged, shredded, his eyes flaring with heat as she, just as slowly, took him deep into her mouth.
"Damn it, Elle. You have to stop." Because he couldn't. He should, but he couldn't. He didn't have that kind of strength, not when her mouth felt like heaven and it had been so damned long and he'd been terrified of losing her. "Son of a bitch, baby, I'm losing it here."
The harsh tone fed her own desire, his entire focus, his whole being centered on her, on how she was making him feel, her tongue a hot velvet lash over the sensitive bundle of nerves on the underside of his shaft. The more she felt his pleasure the more she wanted to give him. She was drowning in the need to give herself wholly to him.
She suckled slow and easy until he was groaning, then switched to fast and hard until his hips pushed deep and he growled a warning.
"You're pushing me over the edge, honey. You have to know I'm not going to be able to stop." Jackson didn't want to stop anymore. She was driving him insane with her hot sexy mouth and the way her gaze locked with his the entire time, wanting him, worshiping his cock, loving him with every single stroke of her tongue.
Elle felt as if she might be going up in flames, burning from the inside out. Her breasts ached, felt swollen and sensitive, and between her legs she was wet, drenched with hot need for him. There was a desperation in her, a drive to exorcise every sexual demon she had. She had to feel Jackson in her body, hot and hard and so real, the love in his mind driving him deep to settle in her and live there, filling her up so no one else could ever touch her.
She felt empty without him, needy and urgent. She had thought she would never feel desire again, never know what it was like to burn for a man, but her body craved Jackson's, her mind twisted and burned through his, frantic for his touch, for his claiming her. She wanted him to replace the feel of depravity with love, cruelty with tenderness.
There was a roaring in her ears, thunder beating through her heart as she felt Jackson's swelling, his heavy erection growing even harder and thicker. His hips picked up a rhythm with her suckling and he pushed forward, deeper. She relaxed her throat to take him deeper. The moment he felt the muscles wrapping tightly around him, his mind went into another place. She felt the burst of pleasure shaking him, taking him over, the fireworks exploding.
Then his hands were gripping her hair and he was thrusting, driving forward and her lungs burned for air and the room tilted and she couldn't breathe, was frozen, helpless, paralyzed, uncertain where she was or what was happening around her. Rage and fear mixed and she began fighting, hitting, kicking as his body erupted, jetting thick ropes of hot seed splashing in her mouth. Her fist landed close to his groin, another struck his thigh.
Jackson jumped back, his legs rubbery, his body drained of strength. He stumbled, caught by the jeans around his ankles and went down hard. He laid there for a moment on his back, trying to breathe when his lungs burned for air and his body was still singing with fire. He wasn't entirely certain what had gone wrong, his brain still wasn't working very well. There was a roaring in his ears that slowly began to fade as he tried to piece together what was going on.
Elle scrambled away from Jackson, crawling backward until she felt the wall behind her. She pressed her hand tight against her mouth, her chest heaving, her throat raw. She realized she was screaming and forced herself to stop. She'd hit him. Hurt him. She'd destroyed something beautiful and priceless and she didn't even remember doing it until she found herself beating at him with her fists.
She had to leave. Run. There was no place to go, nowhere to hide from herself, from what she'd done. And she didn't even know what had happened. She curled into a ball and sobbed, wishing the ground would open up and just take her away.
>
12
JACKSON slowly sat up, very slowly reaching for his jeans and dragging them up over his hips. Elle was a distance from him, her body in a tight ball, her tangle of hair hiding her face, her weeping heartbreaking. Bomber pushed close to her, trying to comfort her, whining anxiously as he circled, trying to figure out what to do.
"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry." The words were muffled, but Elle just continued to repeat the apology over and over.
Jackson sighed and ran both hands through his hair, taking stock of the situation. He sat there, knees drawn up, looking at Elle, shaking his head. She'd withdrawn from his mind, and when he touched her tentatively, her barriers were strong, strong enough that he figured she'd be able to keep Gratsos out as well. She didn't want anyone sharing her thoughts, her recriminations. He knew Elle, she'd be hating herself and blaming herself for what had happened.
"Elle. Stop crying and sit up." He put demand in his voice.
She moved, flinching a little at his tone.
"I mean it. Sit up and look at me. You wanted to come home with me and now you have to put up with the consequences. Stop crying and look at me."
Elle raised her tear-streaked face, shoved back with her heels, her back pressed tight against the wall and sat, drawing her knees up to partially hide her face, but she was looking at him--and listening and that's what he wanted.
"I'm not dead."
Elle frowned and wiped the tears off her face.
"Look at me." He held up his hands, turned them over and over. "I'm not dead."
"I don't understand."
"You were afraid if I put my cock in your mouth I'd somehow wind up dead. Well I didn't. You gave me pleasure and I'm still alive."
She winced visibly. "But . . ."
"Come on, honey. You wanted to see if I was attracted to you and I was. You wanted to see if you could bring me off and you did." He tilted his head to one side. "Hell, baby, rockets went off. So much so that you knocked me on my ass." He grinned at her.
"That's not funny."
"It's a little funny. Me exploding all over the room and getting tripped by my own jeans around my ankles and landing on my ass. It was a hell of a ride, Elle. You don't do anything by halves."
She was silent. Brooding. Wanting to see it his way, but feeling a failure. "I don't even know what happened. One minute I was having the time of my life, loving what I was doing to you, wanting you with every cell in my body and then everything just went wrong. I don't remember anything but needing to fight." Tears welled up in her eyes again. "I'm sorry. I know I hit you."
"Baby, I wasn't feeling much but the rockets going off. I think you could have used a two-by-four and I wouldn't have felt it."
She pressed her fingers against her eyes. "I wanted you, Jackson. I did."
"I know, honey." His voice was gentle. "It's all going to come right. Have patience with yourself."
She shook her head. "I just want to be normal, is that so much to ask?"
"What the hell is normal?" Jackson said. "Kids all over the world are abused, Elle. Women are raped and kidnapped and forced into sex trafficking. Not just women. Little kids. Boys, teens. It happens everywhere. Parents die. Children are murdered. Illness happens, all sorts of bad things."
He stopped. Took a breath. He had been captured and tortured, but he had a far different background from Elle. He had seen women beaten. He'd seen men murdered. He had grown up thinking his lifestyle was normal. Elle was ill prepared for what had happened to her. She had grown up in a loving family where everyone was safe and protected and parents didn't hit their children. There were no drug deals and no murders. No father coming home drunk and beating her mother.
"Elle, think about it. The scars on your body haven't even begun to fade yet and the worst ones are where you can't see them. They aren't just going to disappear. They're there, a part of you. Sometimes everything will be fine, and other times it won't be. That's just going to be a part of our lives. I can live with it. And you'll have to live with my scars. Believe me, baby, I have plenty of them."
Elle sat on the floor, pressing her back against the wall, looking at the man across from her. He was strong and caring and deserved so much more than she felt she had to give him. He wasn't going to walk away from her no matter how rough things got. And maybe the one thing she could give him was living. To keep going even when she felt she was down and out. He could have been ranting at her and she felt she would have deserved it. He'd told her to stop. He'd tried to get her to back off, but she'd wanted him--wanted his desire--wanted that intensity, the love and lust wrapped so tightly together and only for her.
"Are we good, Elle?" Jackson asked.
She knew what he was asking. She wanted to hold him. The love she felt for him was overwhelming when she realized he was giving her acceptance. Just as she was. Flawed. Broken. Uncertain and fragile. Jackson accepted her. She nodded slowly. "We're good."
"I made a mess all over the floor." He looked ruefully around. "We'd better not have any company for a while."
"I didn't think about that. Jonas will probably be showing up to check on us. You know how he is." Elle scrambled to her feet. "We need another shower. And I have to light candles. Do you have any with strong fragrances? Where're your cleaning products?"
He climbed to his feet and reached over to draw her close, pulling her into his arms. "Kiss me, Elle."
She hid her face against his chest.
Jackson took a hold of her chin. "Kiss me."
She turned her mouth up to his. She expected his gentle, coaxing kiss, one filled with tenderness and love. She got something altogether different. Jackson's mouth came down on hers, his tongue sweeping away resistance with masculine demand. He poured sex and sin into her mouth, hot passion and sheer erotic hunger. His arms crushed her, steel bands, his body rock hard, pressed tightly against hers so that she seemed to melt around him, soft flesh, curves pressing deep against heavy muscle.
When he lifted his head, she felt weak with wanting him. Her gaze met his. She took a breath because it felt as if she were drowning. His hands framed her face.
"What do you see when you look at me, Elle?"
His gaze burned over her. Her breath hitched in her throat. She moistened her lips.
"Tell me."
She couldn't look away. She wanted to, because the way he looked at her made her ashamed. There was no mistaking the look in his eyes.
"Say it. Out loud. Say it."
"Love. I see love." Her voice was low, barely above a whisper.
"What else?"
"Hunger." That wasn't beginning to describe the intensity of the desire burning in the depths of his eyes. "Lust."
"For who?" he prompted.
"Me."
"I love you, Elle. I love you with every breath in my body. There's no room for another woman. No thought for one. You're it for me, everything. All the rest, the sex, whoever is after us, the legacy, all of it doesn't matter if you don't feel the same way. You have to love me with every breath you take. I want to know that you do. Before we go any further. Before you decide you're too broken, you have to stand up now and say I'm worth fighting for. Say it now. To me, with me looking you straight in the eye."
She blinked. Opened her mind to him. Flooded him with everything. Her fears. Her shame. Her love and need for him. Her desire for him. She held nothing back and still he kept looking at her. Waiting. Elle took a breath and traced his lips with unsteady fingers. "I love you, Jackson. With every breath in my body. I'm not going to run, not from Stavros and not from myself because you're worth fighting for. We're worth fighting for."
A slow smile lit his eyes and he lowered his head again and this time his kiss was infinitely tender.
"What was this about?" she asked when she could talk.
"I just wanted to prove a point."
Her eyebrows shot up. "What point?"
A small satisfied smile softened the hard edge to his mouth. "That we really are fine."
r /> She touched his lips, traced the definition there. "I'm glad you have so much faith in me, Jackson. I'll get it back."
"I know you will. In the meantime, that's what you have me for, to remind you often." He let go of her and then had to steady her when she rocked back on her heels. His grin flashed again. Masculine. Satisfied. "And you can find the candles while I mop up the floor. I've got some of those scented air things Inez brought me a while back. I think she thought my place was too much of a bachelor pad. Look under the sink in the bathroom. Or maybe in the closet. I think in a box on the floor."
"Good place for them." Elle found a small smile hovering as she hurried into the bedroom. "Do you want to take a walk after we shower? I'd like to get outside for a little while."
"You want to walk around town?" Jackson sounded skeptical.
Elle poked her head around the doorway to see him rinsing a mop. "No, silly. There's no fog. I thought we could walk on the beach. You practically live on it. We can't very well avoid it. And Bomber can let us know if anything creepy is around."
Jackson didn't answer so she went in search of the candles. She opened the walk-in closet and was surprised to find it very neat. He had several sheriff uniforms and lots of soft, faded jeans, one suit and a dress shirt. The wall behind the clothes had a security keypad on it. Elle frowned and ran her hand over it.
"Jackson, what do you have locked up in here?"
There was a small silence. She turned her head to find him leaning one hip lazily against the doorjamb. "Weapons. Lots of weapons."
She shook her head. "You're so crazy."
"I'm hopping in the shower. The candles should be in one of those boxes."
He sauntered over to her and reached past her to grab a clean pair of jeans. Elle inhaled his scent. She didn't think they needed candles, she liked the way he smelled, but maybe she was just a bit prejudiced.