Lucky Stars (Ghosts and Reincarnation #5)(90)
Author: Kristen Ashley

“But –”

“It’s time to go home.”

“But –”

Jack was unrelenting. “This evening, we’re moving home.”

He shifted away, let her drop to her back but when she did, her eyes went to his shoulder then his throat then his ear.

Then she said, “Jack –”

He cut her off again by brushing his lips against her own before he whispered, “Now, poppet, we can make love or we can walk the dogs. Your choice.”

He watched close up as her eyes finally met his and she blinked.

“Make love?” she breathed.

Jack grinned and teased, “Is that your choice?”

Her eyes grew wide and her body, which had relaxed, went stiff again before she retorted sharply, “No!”

Undeterred, he nevertheless relented and, still grinning, he announced, “Then we’ll walk the dogs and then come back and make love.”

Her hands came to his chest and she gave a useless shove for Jack wasn’t going anywhere.

“We can’t make love,” she snapped.

“All right,” he replied and bent his head to nuzzle her neck. “If you’re not ready for that then I’ll make you come with my mouth and, after, if you feel up to it, you can do the same for me.”

She gave him another ineffective shove and demanded, “Get off!”

He ignored her and mused against her neck, nudging her earlobe with his nose, “Or maybe we can do it at the same time.”

Her hands stilled and she whispered, “Oh my goodness gracious.”

There it was. Another something.

Her words made him smile. His hand drifted from her waist upward and stopped by her breast, his thumb stroking the side.

She liked that. She’d always liked that. Very much. From their first night together he discovered how much she liked it.

She liked it no less now because her body melted under his and her hands slid up his chest so her fingers could curl on his shoulders.

Thank God, he was getting somewhere.

Not about to lose his advantage, his mouth slid over her jaw to touch hers.

Speaking against her lips, he stated his preference, “As much as I like the idea of having the taste of you in my mouth while your mouth is wrapped around my cock, I might get distracted and not hear those sweet, sexy noises you make. So, if you don’t mind, I’d rather make you come when I can concentrate and listen to you and you can return the favour later.”

Her eyes grew wide then they went languid.

Watching it, Jack realised that yes, thank God, he was definitely getting somewhere.

“You’ve never spoken to me like that,” she murmured, the fingers of one hand curling around his neck, her body had grown soft but it was moving restlessly under his.

Oh yes, definitely getting somewhere.

“No,” he replied and touched her mouth in a brief kiss, “I haven’t.”

He didn’t have to ask if she liked it, he knew from her response she did.

“Jack –” she whispered, the hand at his neck moved, her fingers gliding in his hair, her actions belying her next words. “I’m not ready for this.”

He touched her lips in another brief kiss before he said, “All right, my love, I’ll be sure to spend a lot of time getting you ready.”

“Holy heck,” she breathed but her fingers put pressure against his head, her head lifted and she touched her mouth against his.

When she did, he growled his triumph into her already opened mouth, slanted his head and slid his tongue inside.

She immediately emitted one of her sexy, little noises and his already hard c**k jerked at the sound.

Then Baron and Gretl moved, their tags jangling and they both barked.

This was right before they heard a banging at the door.

Jack’s head came up and twisted as the banging continued, loud and unabated.

“What the f**k?” he muttered.

Belle’s body had grown tense underneath him and feeling it, Jack decided he was going to wring the neck of whoever was at the door.

“Would a reporter bang on the door like that?” Belle whispered, her voice filled with anxiety.

“No,” Jack answered as the banging stopped then, within seconds, continued and he stifled a frustrated growl.

“Mom and Gram wouldn’t bang like that,” Belle told him as, with regret, he moved away from her warm body and their warm bed.

“No, they wouldn’t,” Jack replied though he figured they would but not on Sunday.

He exited the bed and Baron and Gretl started circling to the bedroom door and back to Jack.

He heard Belle’s movement, looked back and saw her sitting up and throwing the covers back.

Jack stopped in his progress to the door and ordered, “Don’t move.”

Belle halted her legs in mid-swing and asked, “What?”

“Don’t leave that bed.”

“But –”

“Belle.”

She stared at him a moment then her legs settled and she whispered, “Okay.”

“I won’t be a minute,” Jack told her and watched her nod.

Then Jack, barefoot, bare-chested and wearing only pyjama bottoms, stalked through the house, down the steps to the front door and threw it open.

A tall, sandy blond-haired man with intensely blue eyes stood outside wearing a beat up leather bomber jacket, a pair of faded jeans and a t-shirt stating his fondness for The Rolling Stones.

He had an even more beat up leather satchel over his shoulder and, alarmingly, a large, even more beat up leather bag sitting on the stoop by his foot.

His eyes bugged out when they fell on Jack’s face.

“Jesus, you’re the famous, rich dude,” he declared.

Jack scowled at him. “I am indeed. And you are?”

The man’s face split into an easy, wide, white smile and his hand shot forward toward Jack before he said, “Jenson Abbot, Belle’s Daddy.”

Jack stared at his hand, vaguely disappointed that he couldn’t commit homicide against Belle’s father and then he took his hand and shook it, introducing himself by saying, “Jack Bennett.”

“Dude, I know,” Jensen Abbot replied. “Christ, photos of you and Belle are everywhere.” He dropped Jack’s hand and went on, “You two look sweet together. Sah… weet. Never thought my precious girl would find someone to complement her, because, hey man, I don’t have to tell you, she’s beautiful but, seriously, dude, you… are… it.”

Jack had no reply to that however he did get the impression that perhaps Belle hadn’t been entirely forthcoming with how wild her father was and she had painted a verbal picture of Jensen Abbot that was rather wild.