Right Kind of Wrong

  I go to pull my shirt off and he stops my hands, gripping my wrists tightly before knocking them away. A reminder that Jack is the hurricane. I let my hands fall away, feeling oddly safe in my powerlessness.

  He runs his palms over my chest and squeezes my breasts. Lightly at first then more firmly until my breaths are quick and short. He lifts them, tugging my left nipple into his warm mouth, groaning, then doing the same to my right.

  My core begins to tighten along with my hard nipples, growing wet and achy as I grind against him. My nails sink into the back of his neck in need. He pulls back and the wet tips of my breasts chill in the cool air of the room, causing a shiver to run through my body as Jack slips his fingers through the belt loops on my jeans and uses his hold there to pull me from the wall.

  Walking backward, he tugs me along until he reaches the bed and sits on the edge. He pulls my hips up to his face, me standing above where he sits, and undoes the button of my jeans. He pulls the zipper down, only an inch, and looks up at me darkly. His gaze lingers on my bare breasts, spilling free from where my shirt is tucked beneath their masses, then moves up to my throat, my mouth, my eyes.

  For a moment, standing above him like the queen I usually am in the bedroom, I feel confident and sure. I could shove him back and straddle his big body, riding him until I feel powerful and pleased, then climb off of his undone mess. But the powerful feeling is fleeting.

  As I try to push him onto his back, he grabs my wrists and pins them to my side, locking them there and eyeing me darkly until I relax my shoulders. Releasing me, his hands move down the sides of my legs, trailing down the fabric of my jeans and then back up my legs to the bottom of my open zipper.

  He pulls my pants even farther apart so my jeans are still loosely around my hips but my red thong is completely visible. Even with my shirt and pants still technically on my body I feel more naked than I’ve ever been. Not in an uncomfortable way, certainly not—I trust Jack more than I trust myself, which is nearly as frightening as the love I see in his eyes even amidst the lust—but in a vulnerable way. Because I’m not in control.

  He leans in and kisses the top of my panties, his hot breath warming the center of the red triangle of material separating us. I want his mouth lower but he doesn’t move his lips as he yanks my jeans down to my knees and runs his hands up the back of my thighs.

  A tremor runs through me and I feel myself grow wetter. I squeeze my legs together to give myself some relief but none comes as Jack’s hands glide up and over my naked ass and drives me even more wild.

  I shove my hands into his black hair, tangling them in his locks and trying to guide his mouth to where I need him. His fingers slip under the waistband of my red thong and pull it down and I freeze.

  “This is new,” he says quietly, his eyes zeroing in on the tattoo I got just after the last time he and I were naked together. A moon, right above my pubic bone, with the silhouette of a flying bird.

  A midnight bird of hope, identical to the one over his heart.

  Jack realizes this. No question.

  He had told me it represented hope. Hope for something to come, hope for something more. And that night last year with Jack made me hope for something I didn’t know I ever wanted. And while I wasn’t ready to admit it, my soul couldn’t deny it.

  Jack had changed me and he’d done so through sex, so I had the midnight bird inked along my most private of places because what we shared that night was intimate, and no one else needed to know about it. Ever.

  He runs his fingers over the tattoo, brushing the sensitive skin there with reverence. Then he leans over and gently kisses the bird. Like he’s honored. Like he’s grateful. He looks up at me with a million lost emotions in his eyes, and my heart tumbles over. What I feel for this man—for his heart, his bones, his stormy eyes and raspy voice—is beyond words. I would tattoo his name across every bare inch of my skin just to see him gaze at me this way. It’s bigger than me, this thing I feel. Stronger. More powerful.

  And it has overthrown my ruling completely and fallen head over heels in love with Jack Oliver.

  His eyes drop to the special tattoo again and he traces it with the pad of his thumb. “Jenna.”

  Oh God. My name. That voice.

  He looks up at me beneath long, dark lashes, still brushing my tattoo. “You love me.”

  I don’t deny his words and a devilish smile curls up the ends up his mouth. With one final kiss of my inked skin, he returns to my panties with a whole new fervor.

  His fingers still inside the waistband, he slides them to the center of my back, where the thin red string disappears between my cheeks. Flattening his palms over the round globes of my butt, he pulls his hands out from the waistband and carefully sets his fingertips along the center string and slowly runs them down the crease where my cheeks meet.

  The featherlight touch, running down the sensitive skin of my backside, makes my stomach clench and my thighs tremble. Until he reaches the bottom where the red string meets the triangle that wraps up and around to my front and finds me completely wet.

  He slips his fingers back under my panties, gently touching me between my legs, and I quietly gasp and grip his hair tightly in my hands.

  As his naughty fingers begin to stroke my slippery skin, I squirm in my imprisoning jeans, wishing for release as I try to move his stubborn mouth once again.

  With hazy vision, I look down to see him smile against my panties.

  In a raspy voice I say, “Bastard.”

  His smile grows as his fingers glide out of my panties and move around my thigh to the front of the red triangle.

  He quietly says, “Do you want me to stop?” then slips his thumb under the material again and strokes me up… and up… and right to my clit.

  I jerk at the touch, clutching his hair like a handlebar on a wild roller coaster as he gently rolls his thumb over me in small wet circles.

  “Do you?” he asks, placing kisses along the seam of my panties where they meet my thighs. Then he takes the seam between his teeth and lifts it from my skin. With the edge of my panties in his mouth, his hot exhales drift inside the material and blow across my wet folds and needy clit. A shudder races through me.

  I swallow, my legs shaking on the verge of orgasm and my eyes blind with desire as I whisper, “N-no.”

  He pulls my panties to the side with his mouth, exposing my most sensitive flesh, now glossy with my own wetness, and holds them there with his free hand as his sweet thumb falls away from my clit. I whimper, protesting the lack of contact. I was so close!

  He takes a good look at my wanting nakedness, his pupils dilating with pleasure and hunger. I hold his head with both hands, bracing myself as his long tongue slips out from his mouth.

  I watch as he slowly licks one long stroke up my center and I let out a small cry. My body trembles even more as he replaces his thumb with his hot tongue, rolling the textured pad of his tongue over my soft cluster of nerves. I hold his head against my V, moaning in ecstasy as more wetness leaks from my core and drips down my inner thighs. I tug his hair, feeling powerful as I guide his head between my legs.

  The pleasure suddenly stops as he pulls away and lets my panties shift back into place.

  I blink in confusion. “What are you—?”

  Taking my hips, he throws me to the bed on my back. Then he pulls my jeans off the rest of the way and yanks my shirt off completely, his eyes sharp and dark as he climbs over my body and pins my arms above my head on the pillow with one hand.

  I arch my back in protest and longing, not sure what to do without my hands as I breathe out, “I want to be on top.”

  His eyes pierce mine. “I know.” He slips his free hand inside the only piece of clothing I still have on—my panties—cupping the place his mouth just pleased. “But I want you my way.”

  He pushes a finger inside me, sliding it between the achy, wet muscles of my core as I whimper again and my eyes fall shut.

  “I want you to trust
me.” He kisses me lightly, gently, on the lips and whispers, “Do you trust me?”

  I nod, unable to speak or open my eyes against the fierce pleasure inside me.

  He pulls his finger out and my muscles try to grab at him as he does, desperate to have something to cling to and pulse around. He bends his head to tug one of my nipples into his mouth, and as he does, he pushes into me again and I exhale as his finger dives deeper than before. With my arms locked above my head and his hand inside my wet panties, pushing his fingers in and out of me while at the same time sucking on my nipples, I feel completely helpless. And it’s incredibly arousing. Being at his mercy. Trusting him completely with my body.

  He pulses in and out of me again but this time with a second finger added to the first to give me even more satisfaction. It’s such extreme pleasure, wicked and sweet. But it’s still not enough as I moan and wiggle under the crook of his fingers. His hands pull away from me then he lifts my hips and pulls off my soaking red panties before tossing them to the floor.

  He spreads my thighs apart and lowers his mouth to my center, the tiny textures of his tongue rubbing against the needy nerves of my clit once again and I cry out in bliss.

  I’ve been pleased by a guy’s mouth before but never while on my back. I keep my position above guys. I sit above their mouths or ride atop their bodies. I don’t lie beneath them and let them shove my thighs apart with their large hands—until now. Jack has me completely spread open for him and has his lips and tongue against me to do whatever he wishes. And all I can do is gasp and moan and beg for more as I tangle my fingers in his wild hair.

  He licks at me mercilessly, his hot tongue rolling over and over the bundle of nerves at my center as I grab him by the hair and hold him to me. I start to see stars as his lapping increases and soon it’s too much. A wonderful orgasm drives me to the peak and I whimper breathlessly as he licks me over the edge.

  My thighs begin to quake, destroyed by such pleasure, and my lower belly spasms in time with my aching core. I arch my back, wanting relief for my tight center, but not yet able to move my arms or open my eyes under the weight of such delicious bliss.

  I hear Jack hastily grab a condom and open my eyes just as he slips it on. Hovering over me, he pins my arms above my head again, forcing my breasts to stick out, swollen with need and nipples taut, and with my thighs fallen open from the climax and my core dripping with want and tightness, he pushes his thick cock into my body and pleasure darts through my limbs as he fills the aching need inside me.

  Open and completely at his mercy, I cry out for more, begging in pants and rejoicing in gasps as he thrusts into me again and again. The friction between our bodies flicks against my swollen clit and sends me over the edge again as I buck.

  He moves within me, filling me completely, driving into me again and again. My body is a wet glove, grasping at him, trying to hold him deep inside, but failing to keep him from pulsing in and out. In and out.

  Arching my back as far as my spine will allow me, I bow up to him, tipping my head back and closing my eyes against the blissful sensations his thick hardness sends through my nerves.

  With my hands trapped in his above my head, I’m completely without control. I’m his to touch. To do with what he will. A thought that lights my desire even more.

  Hot exhales escape my mouth as I watch the taut muscles of his chest and shoulders work for his satisfaction and mine, straining against one another. He pushes deep inside me and slips his hands away from mine, freeing my wrists as he traces his fingers down my arms and over my breasts. The rough skin of his palms catches on the tenderness of my needy nipples, shooting pleasure straight to my core.

  His hands slide lower and he lays them against my belly, his fingers brushing over the hollows of my pelvis as shaky breaths jump from my lips. Then, with his erection still buried deep inside me, he takes my hips in his hands and slowly begins to pump in and out of me again, this time with my hands free to roam his sweaty body. To grip his ass. To claw at his back.

  And I do all three as he plunges into my wanting body over and over. The tiny muscles of my core grip his hard erection inside me, milking him for dear life as I come undone beneath him and soon the tendons in his throat pull taut and his shoulders go rigid as he climaxes inside me and we both become a liquid mess.

  It’s the most pleasure I’ve ever experienced and yet my body lies open and bare beneath his. I don’t know how such a position could bring me such bliss. All I know is I want to experience it—experience Jack—again.

  20

  Jack

  Running a finger down her spine, I watch the morning light fall over Jenna’s face as she lies in my arms and slowly opens her eyes. It takes her a moment to register where she is and the events of last night, and when she does, her eyes dart around the hotel room until landing on the door.

  I trace my finger up her back. “You want to run, don’t you?”

  She snaps her eyes to me and quietly says, “No.”

  I inhale slowly and smile. “Yes, you do.”

  She drops her eyes to my chest. “I don’t want to run. I’ve just never slept with a guy until morning before and it’s…” She traces a small circle on my stomach. “It’s weird.”

  I tuck a strand of her dark hair behind her ear, wishing she would look back up at me. “What’s weird about it?”

  Keeping her eyes downcast, she lifts a naked shoulder. “I don’t know. It feels all domestic.”

  My fingers trickle down her spine again as I nod. “And Jenna will not be tamed.”

  She cuts her eyes to me. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

  “That is what you’re saying.” When my fingers reach her waist, I wrap my arms around her more fully and prop her on top of me completely. “But you could have left anytime you wanted last night. You didn’t have to sleep beside me.”

  “I know.”

  “Then why did you stay?”

  Her eyes flick to the tattoos on my collarbone. “Because I liked being in your arms. And I liked how warm you were. And the soothing the sound of your heartbeat when I laid on your chest.” She scowls. “Ugh. Listen to me. I sound like one of those lovesick lunatic girls who think sex equals love and happily ever after—”

  “No you don’t,” I say sharply, growing impatient with her endless efforts to not want me. “You sound like a woman who cares about the guy she woke up with.”

  She blinks up at me and bites her lip then rolls onto her side to face me. “Jack…”

  “Shh…” I kiss her, softly, slowly.

  It doesn’t matter what she says. I saw the tattoo. I know she has feelings for me. I knew how she felt long before seeing her newest tattoo, but the fact that she permanently drew a reminder of me—of us—on her skin means that she knew it too. And she’s known it all along.

  Pulling back from her sweet mouth, I glide my hand over the curve of her shoulder, her elbow, the dip of her waist and the flare of her hips. God, she’s breathtaking.

  I gently nudge her onto her back and trail my fingers across her belly. “You don’t want to be caged. I get it, Jenna. But this thing between us isn’t going away. Because it’s real.” I slide my hand down her body and she sucks in a breath as I softly caress the moon tattoo. “I know you have feelings for me,” I say, so quietly it’s almost a whisper. “And I’m crazy about you.”

  She watches my fingers trace the lines of the design. “Midnight bird of hope,” she says quietly. “That’s what I call it.”

  I look down at the matching tattoo on my chest and repeat, “Midnight bird of hope.” I smile. “What were you hoping for?”

  She hesitates. “You, I think.” She looks up and our gazes lock.

  This girl.

  I love her more than life itself.

  My heart starts to pound. “I think we should give it a shot.”

  Her eyes fill with warring emotions as she opens her mouth to respond. But then the phone rings.

  “Oh, crap,” she
says, whipping her head to where her phone sticks out of her purse. “I bet that’s my mom freaking out because I didn’t come home last night.” She clambers over me and answers with a rushed, “Hello?… Oh, hi Becca… Yeah, I’m not sure if I’m going to make it… I know… Okay, maybe next time… Love you too.” She hangs up and flops back on the bed. “I forgot that my aunt wanted everyone to come over for breakfast this morning, but I know it’s really just a ploy to get everyone to help set up for a family barbeque this afternoon.” She sighs. “It’s never-ending with them and their family activities.”

  I smile. “My uncle Brent used to have barbeques all the time. My brothers and I loved going over there because he had this cool attic and Drew always wanted to play hide-and-seek in there—” I freeze as a thought hits me.

  “What?” Jenna perks up.

  “Drew loved my uncle’s house,” I say distractedly. “I wonder if he went there to hide out.” I start nodding, my adrenaline spiking. “I bet he did.” I look at Jenna. “I bet he did.”

  “Do you really think so?”

  I keep nodding, feeling optimistic about my hunch.

  “Okay.” She smiles. “Then let’s go.”

  “Yeah?” I smile.

  She nods. “Let’s go check it out.”

  We hurriedly get out of bed and get dressed. Every few minutes, I look over at Jenna, trying to figure her out. But her lack of response to my asking her to give us a shot is telling enough. She doesn’t want a relationship with me and that’s something I can’t change.

  I can’t help but feel disappointed, though. I don’t know how to convince her that caring about me—or even loving me—isn’t a mistake. Especially now that she knows all about my crazy family and probably wants nothing to do with me.