From Rags

  “For God’s sake,” she snapped. The bloke never let up. “I’m horny and I want you; if that’s not enough, if this was only fun when I was resisting you, then get into your car and piss off.” His fingers stilled. A moment later he withdrew them. For a second she thought he was leaving but then she heard the telling sound of a wrapper being torn and a zipper being lowered. Her thong went with a snap. Finally she felt the tip of his condom covered cock teasing her soaking wet entrance.

  Connor caught her hips firmly and worked an inch inside her. So tight. He closed his eyes against the temptation to plunge into her; he was long and thick and she was so tight. She squirmed and her muscles clutched at him, trying to take him further inside. But he held himself immobile and tightened his grasp on her hips to stop her squirms. “Want more?”

  Oh he better not be one of those people who loved to hear begging. She didn’t do begging. She gave him a curt nod.

  “Then tell me who’s inside you.”

  “What?”

  “I need to know you’re not picturing yourself with just anyone.” It bugged him that she wanted to have her back to him. “I need to hear that you know it’s me who’s about to bury my cock inside you and fuck you raw.”

  A tremor rippled down the length of her spine. “I’m not picturing anyone else.”

  He rewardingly pushed in another inch. Her muscles clamped down on him, practically squeezing the life out of him. “Then you can tell me who’s inside you.”

  Swallowing her profanity, she relented. “Connor.” He gave her another inch. God the feeling of him stretching her…It tingled, it burned, it stung. It was absolutely amazing. She was sure that she hadn’t accommodated someone so thick before.

  “Tell me again.” He didn’t doubt for one minute that his insistence would have her snapping at him, but he wouldn’t let her try to treat this as a nightly encounter with a stranger.

  “Connor.”

  Another inch. He groaned. She was so gorgeously hot and tight around him. It was taking every ounce of his control not to fully sheath himself in one last stroke. It really didn’t help that her body language was egging him on to do exactly that. “Again, Jaxx.”

  So far Jaxxon had bit back at least a dozen curses and even resisted the temptation to stomp on his foot, but now he was just cheesing her off. She growled. “Christ, Connor, either stop with this crap and fuck me or sod off and I’ll get someone else to take care of the itch.” He stiffened and everything suddenly seemed deathly quiet. Alright maybe that wasn’t the smartest thing to say. But the bloke was getting on her wick, and he knew it.

  She silently cursed herself as he withdrew from her. Yep, she’d pushed too far. But then he abruptly slammed into her, seating himself to the hilt. Her eyes snapped open and she cried out at the painful but so blissful invasion.

  He bit her ear. “Don’t talk to me about letting another bloke touch you.” He surged into her again. “D’you hear me? Don’t.” It didn’t matter that they weren’t in a relationship. It didn’t matter that once the lust had burnt away they’d go their separate ways. His soul had already claimed her as his a long time ago and would always see her that way no matter where in the world she was or who – he hated even the thought of it – she was with. The idea of another bloke’s hands on her…It would always drive him to breaking point.

  Jaxxon’s back was arched like a bow as he plunged in and out of her with hard, fast, powerful strokes. She threw her head back to rest on his shoulder again, relishing every sensation. He nibbled and kissed and sucked on her neck. She knew he was purposely marking her but she couldn’t find it in herself to care; the concoction of heat, lust and bliss that was blasting through her like a hot wind was so intense that it left no room for anything else. It was all simply too much. It was nowhere near enough.

  “Ten years, Jaxx,” he gritted out. “Ten years we’ve wanted this and you thought you could ignore it?”

  He was right, she acknowledged. It was always going to happen. From the moment she had heard his voice again on her machine, it was inevitable. But even if she had been prepared to admit that aloud, it seemed that she had forfeited the power of speech in favour of carnal bliss. She was adrift in the sensation of his thick, long shaft pumping in and out of her. She knew that with one touch to her clit she’d go off like a sodding volcano.

  As the tenor of her cries signaled to Connor that her climax was looming, he pulled out of her, spun her round and meshed his lips with hers. The kiss was raw and primitive just like their joining. The second he lifted her she locked her legs around him. Then, holding her gaze, he drove into her over and over and over, making her take everything he had to give.

  Jaxxon clung to him, her nails digging into his back through his shirt. She loved the feel of him so deep inside her. But she didn’t like the eye contact. It made her feel exposed, vulnerable even; she didn’t want him to see the truth that this was more to her than just a shag in the dark, an itch to a scratch. She tucked her face into the crook of his neck. She was so close now.

  “Look at me, Jaxx.”

  Oh the bastard.

  “Look. At. Me.” He wanted to be caught up in that feral gaze when they both came. “Jaxx.”

  Hoping against hope that the out-of-control sensations spiraling through her might disguise any deeper emotions from her eyes, she lifted her head. And just like that, at the raw possessiveness and fevered passion she saw on his face, a violent climax tore through her.

  Connor covered her mouth with his own, capturing her scream, as his own release hit and his seed exploded out of him. “Fuck.”

  Neither of them moved as, panting and gasping for breath, they waited for the aftershocks to subside. He wanted to say something but didn’t know what. He could tell her the truth; that that had been the best sex of his life; that it hadn’t been meaningless to him like every other shag he’d had; that he’d missed her so fucking much. But wouldn’t telling her that be the equivalent of leading her to believe that more could come of this?

  Jaxxon slid down his body, not letting it show that she felt the loss of him being buried deep within her. It hadn’t been as good as she’d always imagined it might be, it had been a million times better. “Not bad, McKenzie.” She was going for calm, flippant and casual. It must have worked a lot better than she thought because his eyes bugged and his mouth drooped open. Clearly he had been hoping for a much more decent compliment. She fixed her dress, praying her legs would support her quick exit. No sign of her torn thong. Great. Seeing that he already had questions in her eyes, she decided she’d just have to leave the thong – it was time to go.

  “Not bad, McKenzie,” he echoed in a tone filled with disbelief as he removed the condom and zipped up his pants. “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he called after her as she scuttled off. “Is that all you can say?”

  “What do you want me to say?” She retrieved her coat from the hood of her Audi and slung it onto the passenger seat as she hopped into the car. Before she could close the door a hand grabbed it tightly. She looked up to see a highly annoyed bloke. “Connor, what’s the problem? We both got what we wanted. We’re both going home satisfied.”

  “So that’s it? One shag and done?” It wasn’t lost on him that he sounded a lot like some of the women he had shagged in the past.

  Jaxxon veiled the relief she felt at hearing that he hadn’t had just a one-off shag in mind, it was going to take more than the one time to rid him from her system. But she couldn’t let him see that weakness. Connor was, essentially, a predator. Predators and weaknesses did not mix well. She maintained her casual air. “Alright, look, I’ve got a lot on at the minute but I don’t see why we can’t get together again. Phone me.” With that she snatched the door from his grasp, banged it shut and drove off without a second look. It was the only way to keep herself safe – she couldn’t let anyone in, especially not Connor McKenzie.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “Not bad, McKenzie,” repeated Anna, shocked. “Oh, Jaxxon, y
ou didn’t.” It had been days since she had last seen Jaxxon and she been waiting desperately for the scoop. Whatever she had expected to hear, it wasn’t that Jaxxon decided to have a rendezvous at night time in a wooded area. Brilliant. But ‘Not bad, McKenzie’…Dear God.

  “For all I knew one shag was all he was after,” said Jaxxon defensively, swinging Bronty’s lead in the humid air. The dumb dog was fascinated with a pine comb at the moment. Each time she walked him in the park she became more and more concerned by the fact that her dog didn’t seem to do anything typical of canines. He didn’t go round pissing and shitting, marking his territory. He didn’t sniff everyone and everything he came into contact with. He didn’t try to chase other animals. It was almost as though he had no innate instincts that told him how to behave. “I thought I’d play it casual so it was painless for both of us to walk off.” It would never be truly painless for her though. She knew that for sure Wednesday night.

  “I guess I see your point. But ‘Not bad, McKenzie’.”

  “At least I commented on the shag. All he did was pounce on the idea of me walking off after just the one time. He sounded like a girl to be quite honest. I don’t think I’ve ever met a bloke who minded being used for sex.”

  “So what does that tell you?”

  She knew what Anna was getting at, but Jaxxon was smart enough to know that Connor would never want more than what they had now – which was very little. “That his ego is too sensitive.”

  Anna shook her head, smiling. If only Jaxxon could see her own worth instead of viewing herself as a moody bitch, Anna might have a shot at convincing her of what she herself believed: Connor McKenzie would never let her go, even if he didn’t realise it himself yet. “When are you seeing him next?”

  Tingles abruptly scurried along Jaxxon’s spine. The nape of her neck felt itchy. Someone was watching her. Just like when she went shopping with Anna that time, it felt wrong. Like the gaze was sending a bad vibe. Still managing to hold onto the thread of the conversation, she replied while scanning her surroundings, “I told him to phone me.” There were people around the park but no one who gave her cause to look twice. Was she getting paranoid?

  “He’s a bloke so that could take days. They like to play it cool so they don’t seem desperate, as if the way they ravish us when they do see us doesn’t tell us differently!” They both winced as Bronty tried to eat a bee. “Do you fancy trying that new bar, ‘Frankie’s’, later?” When Jaxxon groaned she added, “Come on, we never hit any bars last weekend.”

  “Only because we went to the charity event.”

  A loud bark-growl had them both jerking around. Jaxxon felt her eyebrows shoot up as she found Bronty in the kind of pouncing position expectant of a lion, glaring at a bloke who – judging by his attire – was a jogger. She could only guess that the bloke had given Bronty a fright when he sprung out of the trees onto their path. “Bronty, you daft sod. Sorry,” she told the jogger when she approached. “He’s a bit odd to tell you the truth.”

  “I-it’s, er, alright, he’s just, er, protecting his mistress.”

  Jaxxon gave Bronty, who hadn’t moved a muscle, a little shove. “Oi, snap out of it. And stop posing like that.” She looked at Anna. “Do you think he knows he’s a dog?” Anna was too busy staring open-mouthed at the jogger to answer. Jaxxon knew that look and what it meant. It wasn’t unusual for celebs to stroll about this park. But damned if Jaxxon could recognise him. She again took in his athletic build, his dark eyes, his high cheekbones and tousled dark hair. She also took in the fact that he didn’t have an ounce of sweat on him, which was surely odd for someone jogging around, especially in this heat. And then there was the look on his face…He seemed nervous. Had the look of someone who’d known exactly what they wanted to say but been put off. Like stagefright.

  “Alright, well, bye.” She took a frozen Anna by the arm and guided her away. The bloke did start jogging then. Yes, she was being paranoid.

  “Now that is one divine man,” said Anna, finally back to Earth.

  “Who is he?”

  Anna looked at her like she was loopy. “That’s Luke Winston.” Jaxxon looked none the wiser. “Don’t you know who Luke Winston is?”

  Jaxxon shook her head. “He looks a bit familiar.”

  “So he should. He was in a boy-band when he was younger and now he’s an actor. Doesn’t he have the most gorgeous arse!”

  No, Connor does¸ thought Jaxxon. Alright, whoa, where the hell did that come from? She really did not want to end up in the state of mind where she compared and contrasted every bloke she met against Connor. For one thing, that would make her a very sad individual. Also, she knew perfectly well that no one would ever measure up to him. No one ever had in the past eight years, and that was before they’d even shagged – and what a bloody good shag it had been. She would be destined to life as a spinster. Not going to happen. Yes, a night out where loud music could drown out her thoughts would do her the world of good.

  Connor’s muscles ached deliciously after his work-out. And so they should. He’d spent longer hours than usual at the gym; practically abusing the exercise bike, the rowing machine and the specially designed weights that helped develop the muscles required to withstand the g-forces and racing conditions. It might look like all an F1 driver had to do was sit on their arse and steer, but there was more to it than that.

  Connor had to ensure that he worked on his neck muscles; a lot of stress was put on them considering that the helmet weighed 7kg and the g-force could send his head lurching and bobbing. He also had to concentrate hard on keeping up his upper body strength so that he could tackle the twists and turns of the speeding the car and the physical stress coming from the g-force. For similar reasons, exercising his arms and wrists were important. And of course there were his legs; a driver’s braking power depended massively on the strength of his leg muscles seen as the pedals of F1 cars were made to be stiff.

  He thought it was ironic that he trained his mind to be alert and prepared for anything – how else would he handle a speeding car and be totally attuned to every movement? – and yet the reappearance of one person in his life had thrown him completely. During training seemed to be the only time that he was actually in control of his body; a body that craved Jaxx in a way that scared him. His theory was that if his body had been well worked, it wouldn’t be so unruly. So, yeah, he’d overworked himself a lot lately.

  Nonetheless, whenever she crept into his thoughts his cock roared to life. How was it possible that he thought of Jaxx so much? But, then, how could he not think of her? How could he not think of Wednesday night? It had felt so good to be inside her. She had been so responsive to his touch. So hot and tight around him. So gorgeous as she came, screaming.

  And then she had topped it off with ‘Not bad, McKenzie’.

  Not bad, McKenzie?! It had been amazing, that’s what it had been. He’d never had a shag like that in his life.

  Then she had scarpered like the hounds of hell were chasing her. Had that been regret? Or was it that what happened had meant so little to her? That he meant so little to her?

  Christ, why was he stressing over this? He should be glad. She was his favourite kind of woman; she understood that sex didn’t mean the involvement of ‘feelings’, she didn’t have this need to bask in the bloody afterglow, and she didn’t put any pressure on him. She had just got her jollies and left, not even hinting for a compliment on her performance or if she was the best sex ever. The irony that this woman was the best sex he’d ever had wasn’t lost on him. He wondered if that meant it’d take longer for him to burn off his craving for her.

  The chiming of his mobile phone stole him from his contemplations. The name on the screen of his Blackberry was ‘Warren’, an Olympic runner who had been a good mate of his over the years. “Hello.”

  “Connor, you busy right now, mate?”

  “Just got out of the shower. About to have a beer and wind down. What’s up?”

 
“Er…I’m at that new bar, ‘Frankie’s’, with Clive and Mick.”

  That explained the background noise. “I’m not really in the mood for that tonight.”

  “I think you might change your mind when I tell you who I’m looking at right now. Jaxxon Carter’s here, she’s with the really cute, leggy model who went to the charity event with her. And, er…”

  Connor’s entire body tensed and his jaw locked.

  “Well, that actor Luke Winston’s hovering around her.”

  Little bastard.

  She probably should have been politely concentrating on what Luke was saying, but Jaxxon was busy wondering if there was such a thing as Celebrity Fright Syndrome and if Anna suffered from it. She hadn’t said a word since the bloke had appeared at their table a half hour ago, just stared at him like he alone held the keys to the secrets of the universe. The bloke certainly held a secret…but Jaxxon had yet to figure out what.

  Oh on the surface he seemed totally fine and the evening had so far been alright, if you discounted the fact that he had sat with them without waiting for an invite. He didn’t seem conceited, he hadn’t mentioned either of their careers, he hadn’t plowed her with extremely personal questions. They were just two people talking which was kind of refreshing. But there was just something not quite right. He was so nervous and couldn’t meet her eyes for very long. A few times already he had tried to get her to leave the bar with him. Also, he was trying to get her plastered. Poor thing didn’t know she’d worked in a pub for years and could handle her alcohol better than most blokes – not that she wasn’t the teensiest bit tipsy. The only reason she hadn’t sent him away with a kick up the arse was that she was certain he’d be plastered before she was and then maybe she could coax his big secret from him.

  “Oh bugger.”

  Jaxxon nearly jumped when Anna spoke. So she was alive then. “What’s wrong?”