From Rags(83)
Author: Suzanne Wright

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhh you sadistic twat!”

He then slid down her body, keeping his weight over her, until he reached her ankles which he also cuffed to the bed, leaving her in a fantastic starfish pose. “Sorry, Jaxx, but I had to be prepared in case you wouldn’t listen to me.”

“You think this will make me want to listen?”

“Well no but it does mean you’ll have to.” He settled down beside her but she turned her head away. Propping himself up on one elbow, he drew circles on her back through her dress – a dress that had a long zip that stopped at her pelvis, begging to be lowered.

“Don’t touch me!”

“I’m just trying to relax you, babe.”

“Just tell me what you want. Oh hang on, let me guess, you were passing by and thought you’d drop in for a quickie.”

“Actually I’ve just got off a very long flight to here from London to see you.”

“Why? Haven’t you got over that addiction yet?” She snickered, trying to veil just how her body was responding to his touch. “Or was it that you heard some rumour about me being with another bloke and felt compelled to come and scare him off with the caveman routine?”

“I’ll be honest and say that it has been playing on my mind that you might be with someone, and I just can’t have that, Jaxx.”

“Oh so you get to have as many bed-buddies as you like while I have to live the life of a bleeding nun?”

“I haven’t been with anyone since you.” Needing to taste her skin again, he kissed her shoulder.

She snorted. “Like I’d believe that.”

“It’s true.” He trailed kisses along her shoulder to her nape. Her answering shudder relieved him. She was still responsive to him even if she wished she wasn’t.

“Stop kissing and touching me.”

“I can’t, babe, I’ve missed you so f**king much. Everything in that apartment reminded me of you and having the dog didn’t help.”

“I told Tony to take him.”

“I kept him.”

Shocked, she almost laughed. “Why?”

He buried his face in her soft, silky hair, loving the scent of her strawberry shampoo. “He was all I had left of you and I didn’t know how to let go. I didn’t want to either.”

That had her backpedalling. The combination of his words and his relaxing touches – that were, unfortunately, still managing to feed her craving for him – had her melting into the mattress and calming. It was nice to know she wasn’t turning frigid. “It’s not enough that you missed me, Connor.”

“I know, I know.” Unable to stop himself, he slowly lowered the zipper on her dress.

“Connor, no -”

“Please, babe, I need this, I need to touch you.” Lightly he ran his fingertips along her back.

“If you know it’s not enough then why are you here? On the off-chance that I might be up for a one-off shag?”

After a deep, preparatory breath, he said, “You remember I told you that my sister died? What I didn’t tell you was that my dad killed her.” Her head instantly whipped round to face him, her expression one of shock. “He used to knock my mum and me and Selina about all the time. One day, she was eleven, he took it too far. Me and my mum walked in as he was finishing her off, he was so smashed he didn’t even realise how much damage he’d done.”

“That’s why you always hated him so much,” she whispered, recalling the times she’d tried to get him to stop wasting energy on hating him.

He nodded. “The reason my mum found it so easy to dump me onto social services when her boyfriend asked was because she couldn’t bear the sight of me. She said I looked too much like him, I reminded her of him. And I had his temper. You know what? Before that she was a good mum, a good person. What he did just messed her up. He messed up her life and mine and, worse, ended Selina’s. I was terrified she was right and I was like him; that I might have it in me to hurt a kid or a woman or mess up people’s lives.”

“So you decided not to have a family.”

“I didn’t cry when Selina died, you know. Or when my mum dumped me. I came close but never did. I don’t ever remember crying much as a kid. I thought if I couldn’t even cry when my own sister died then I couldn’t have really loved her, and if I couldn’t love my own sister then I was someone who just couldn’t love at all. That was what I reasoned.”

She really wanted to say something. The bloke had just told her some major stuff, had just confided in her to an extent that he never had before. But nothing came to mind.

“I’m not telling you so you’ll feel sorry for me or to soften you up,” he stated as he kissed his way along her spine. “I just want you to understand that the reason I tried to keep things casual wasn’t because I didn’t care about you. I honestly didn’t think I could give you anything more or feel anything more.” He slid his hand under her dress and palmed her arse. “But as it turns out, I’ve been a blind prick.”

She couldn’t help but close her eyes and moan as he clutched and massaged her arse. She’d missed him and missed his hands on her. Then his words filtered through. “Blind prick?”

He glided his hand along her inner thigh, loving the way she quivered, and slid his finger passed her thong and between her slippery folds. “Jesus, babe, you’re already wet for me.”

“Stop.” The protest was so weak she might have slapped herself for sounding so pathetic if she wasn’t cuffed to the bed. So caught up in the sensations, she couldn’t even open her eyes. “Connor, don’t. I told you I can’t move on if you walk in and out like this.”

“I don’t want you to move on. You’re mine, Jaxx. You always were.”

“I belong to no one.”

“Wrong.” He slipped his finger inside her and her walls gripped him and moisture coated his finger. He thrust his finger in and out at a leisurely, teasing pace. Her low moans were eating at his control. “I worked it out, Jaxx; the way I hate you being away from me, the way I can’t stomach the thought of anyone else touching you, the way sex is so different with you…” He draped himself over her and peeled up her dress. “I’d convinced myself I was just addicted to you, but you know what Jaxx?” He snapped her thong, ragged off his belt, and shoved down his pants. “The truth of it is, I love you.” Then he slammed himself home, groaning at that blissful, familiar feeling of her muscles clasping him like a vise.