Savor Me Slowly (Page 31)

“Not physically.” But she felt the gesture all the way to her tattered heart. To him, she was only a woman. His woman. She wasn’t a machine. I love this man and I don’t have much more time with him.

Think only in the here and now.

Smiling wickedly, she dropped to her knees.

His eyes widened. “What are you doing?”

“Taking the edge off for you, like you did for me.” She hooked her fingers in the elastic band of his underwear and tugged. The material did not want to move past his powerful thighs, forcing her to rip the sides. “Besides, you’re not the only one who needs to do a full-body search.”

Jaxon’s long, thick cock sprang free.

“You don’t have to do that,” he said brokenly.

No, she didn’t, but she could hear desire and perhaps desperation in his voice. She wouldn’t have walked away for any reason.

At eighteen, she’d been trained to do this. A human male she’d never met had arrived and placed several rubber cocks in front of her. He’d then proceeded to instruct her on the best ways to move her mouth, her tongue, and when to scrape lightly with her teeth. Where to place her hands, when to pull away.

She had never enjoyed the act. Once, a man had gotten a little too…grabby, trying to force himself so far down her throat she couldn’t breathe. In retaliation, she’d bitten him hard enough to draw blood and suspected he had problems getting hard even now, all these years later.

She’d been punished for that, of course. An entire day in a sickbed, head pounding as if it would explode, praying it finally would explode and put her out of her misery.

Jaxon, though, she wanted to please this way. She wanted to taste.

“You don’t have to,” he repeated, his hands in her hair, sifting through the strands.

“I know, but I crave it.”

His breaths became short, choppy. “Who am I to stop you, then?” he asked with a crooked half-grin.

She licked the head, tasting salty precum, and he groaned a sound of utter torture. Encouraged, she opened wide and sucked him deep. He released another groan, this one hoarse and raw, almost savage.

“God, baby. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

Up, down, up she moved. He was careful to remain still, his hands loose. He allowed her to decide how deep, how fast, and that freedom allowed her own desire to intensify. Training was soon forgotten, his cock so thick and hot it was all she could think about. Her tongue laved the head with every upward glide, her teeth scoured the base lightly, and her fingers pulled at his balls. Careful, gentle. Don’t hurt.

“Shit, baby, you’re so good.”

Soon this cock would be inside her, pumping and sliding. Soon it would fill her up, be a part of her. She groaned as she shifted on her knees, the ache between her legs painful. She arched her back, rubbing her pearled nipples against his thighs.

That pushed Jaxon over the edge. His hands tightened on her head and hot seed jetted into her mouth, down her throat. He roared and roared and roared, and her sense of feminine power increased. I did this. I gave him ultimate pleasure.

When the hot stream stopped, she stood to shaky legs. Almost fell. Jaxon caught her and hefted her up. He carried her to the bed and tossed her onto the mattress. Twice she bounced before settling atop the covers.

She nibbled on her bottom lip and peered up at him, her blood blistering her veins. Fevered, that’s what she was. Jaxon loomed over her, watching her as sweat trickled down his face and chest.

Without a word, he climbed into bed beside her.

Immediately she curled around him, unable to remain in place. Her hips undulated against his, and she gasped when her clitoris hit his pelvic bone. Pleasure zoomed through her. Yes, there.

She arched forward again, but Jaxon caught her by the waist and held her still. She whimpered.

“Two minutes of recovery,” he said. “After a man comes, he’s like a woman for two minutes, completely in touch with his feminine side. If you can hold out, I’ll make it worth your while.”

Two minutes? Surely an eternity. “You’re going to have to distract me or I’ll attack you.” Sadly, she was not lying. The fire in her blood was too hot for her to ignore. Deep breath in, deep breath out. “Tell me how you got the scar. Or if you’d rather not, tell me—”

“I’ll tell you anything.” One of his hands traced a heated path along each of her vertebras. “I was a wild teenager, drinking, doing drugs, sleeping around. Girl I knew killed herself because I’d hurt her, and I cleaned up for a little while. But one night in college I slept with a girl at a party and we both passed out in the bed. Someone found us and told her boyfriend, who stormed over and cut me while I was too wasted to fight him.”

A lance of pleasure zinged from her core, and she realized she’d been moving against him again. Be still. Otherwise he might think his gruesome story turned her on. “Plastic surgery would fix it.”

Jaxon shook his head. “I’ve had several surgeries. This is as good as it gets. Does it bother you?”

The question was calmly stated, but she sensed its importance to him. “Are you kidding? I told you how much I love that scar. It’s a testament to your strength and courage.”

“I’m glad you think so.” His hands tightened on her. A moment later, she was lifted and straddling him. Her hair cascaded down her arms, the ends brushing his chest.

She blinked in surprise, even as she moaned in bliss.

“Two minutes are up.” He licked his bottom lip in hungry anticipation. “I’m a man again.”

She would have laughed, but sure enough, his penis strained between his legs and pressed against her wet, needy core. Her eyes rolled back in her head at the decadent sensation of man against woman, hardness against softness. “Thank God.”

His gaze lowered to the lace still shielding her wetness from view. “Want to keep your panties?”

“Destroy them.”

The sides were ripped a split second later, and he jerked the material out from under her. Skin to skin contact followed. Both of them stiffened at the delicious agony. But she needed more.

Le’Ace unhooked her bra, shimmied out of it.

“Need a taste of those pretty little nipples.” He rolled her to her back and laved a nipple into his mouth. Cold sheets at her back, hot man on top. “Brace your feet on the bed and drop your knees.”

Trembling, she obeyed. Her fingers threaded through his hair, urging him on, even though she was totally exposed to him, vulnerable and at his mercy.

“So pretty. So good.” He sucked a little harder as his fingers coasted down her stomach, through the fine triangle of hair, and sank two deep…deeper…“I’m never letting you go. I can’t. I crave you more than is probably healthy. Someone should probably lock me up, because I’m surely stalker material. Anyone who hurts you, I’ll kill.”

“Jaxon!” She begged him for more and he eagerly gave it to her, working yet another finger inside. He would always give her more, she knew. Whatever she desired, Jaxon would provide. I’ll do the same for him.

Her heart pounded frantically. Stars winked over her vision, reminding her of the blow Mia had dealt her. Only this time, the blow was desire and it was so much more potent. An all-consuming force. Good versus evil, right versus wickedness, for surely she would die without release. Surely she would become all the more addicted to Jaxon.

“So wet, so hot. Ready for me, baby?”

“Yes.” Yes, yes, yes.

She was empty without him, hollow and bereft. How had she existed so long without him? Never again. For as long as she lived, she wanted to be with him. Despite pain, despite punishment. How many days did she have left? Weeks? Didn’t matter. Eternity would not have been long enough.

“Hurry!”

“How hard can you take it?”

“As hard as you can give it.”

A split second later, he plunged inside her to the hilt, stretching her, filling her. Her hips rose to meet him, to take him even deeper.

“Damn,” he said, sliding out only to pound back in. Sweat poured from him and dripped onto her. Silver eyes flashed down at her.

Her knees squeezed at his sides. Her nails sank into his back, drawing blood.

“You’re not leaving me again,” he gritted out. The bed shook with the force of his claiming. “Say it.”

“Not leaving.” Except in death, she vowed.

“Good girl.” The head of Jaxon’s cock pressed exactly where she needed with every forward ram. He’d been made for her, this man. A perfect fit. “You’re mine.”

“Yours.” That would be true now and always, no matter what happened. “Jaxon, oh God, Jaxon.” Over and over he rocked into her.

“I’m going to take you in every way imaginable. I’m going to burn away the memory of everyone else.”

Her head thrashed from side to side. Any moment now…

“Raise your arms.”

The moment she obeyed, her back arched of its own accord and he leaned down to suck her nipple. Release slammed into her as savagely as Jaxon, pouring wave after wave of pleasure in her.

His lips meshed against hers, and he swallowed her screams. Her inner walls milked him; her tongue dueled with his. Then he, too, was climaxing and she was swallowing his roar.

They lay together in silence for a long while, heartbeats calming, skin cooling, bodies too sated to do much more. Though Mishka had tried to roll away from him a few times, Jaxon mused. He’d pulled her back into his side every damn time. He’d meant what he’d said. He wasn’t letting her go.

He’d never before enjoyed holding a woman afterward. They tended to talk. And talk and talk. They wanted to share their feelings and listen to his. Freaking nightmare-ville.

With Mishka, the holding was almost as good as the sex. Almost. She was relaxed, at ease, soft and pliant. He wanted to hear her feelings, wanted to tell her his. Had from the beginning. Did he understand the reasons for it? No. Did he care? No again. He might be a pussy right now—might? Ha!—but he was a satisfied pussy, so again, he didn’t care.

“Want me to show you the inside of Nolan’s house?” she asked sleepily.

“I don’t want to leave this bed until morning.”

“You don’t have to.”

Confused, he turned his head and peered up at her. She’d propped her rosy cheek on her upraised hand, both balanced by her elbow. The long length of her lashes cast spiky shadows on her cheeks. God, she was lovely.

Her strawberry tresses tumbled to his chest in absolute disarray. He brushed several strands from her mouth and hooked them behind her ear. “What do you mean?”

Grinning, she held up her bra with her free hand. “Camera.”

He barked out a laugh, even as he reeled inside. That grin of hers was carefree and real, her entire face lit with her amusement. “So you did have a camera.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t take any pictures of you.”

“Shit,” he said, still grinning and shaking his head. “I had no idea. You’re a better agent than I am.”

“No, I just have the right tools.” Her smile widened. “The camera’s in the center of the bra, and that’s why my dress was so low cut. So men would stare at my cleavage and the camera could easily capture their eye patterns for retinal scans. If necessary.”

He scrubbed a hand down his face. No telling what kind of expressions he would have been wearing if the thing had been turned on. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

“It isn’t much.” She scooted from him and laid the bra on the bed. Lines of concentration formed around her mouth as she twisted the underwires.

She was adorable when she focused.

As with any holocamera, a blue screen materialized above the lens.

“All right,” she said. “This is Nolan’s entryway.”

Normal enough, with open spaces and a wrought-iron bench, though there were family portraits on the walls. Human portraits. Jaxon frowned. “You sure this is Nolan’s place?”

“The apartment belonged to one of the victims,” Mishka explained.

“Not one I know about, because this address isn’t in any of my files.”

“No. Estap has kept her identity and a few others to himself.”

“Bastard,” he said, meaning Nolan and Estap.

“Yeah.”

“Did Nolan kill her?”

“He says no.”

Jaxon arched a brow. “You believe him?”

She shrugged and pressed the wire. “I haven’t figured him out yet.” Another picture appeared. “Okay. This is the living room.”

He studied the brown syn-leather couch, matching love seat, and concrete floor with a red and orange rug. “Homey.”

“Yeah.”

A cell phone suddenly buzzed. He recognized the fast-fast-sloooow pattern, which meant it was his phone, not Mishka’s. He frowned at the carpet, where his pants lay. More buzzing. “Probably Dallas. Or Mia.”

Mishka stiffened and he didn’t have to guess what thoughts were running through her mind. They wanted him to leave her. Lock her up. Something.

“I’ll call her back.” Soon he was going to have to talk to his friends about their treatment of his woman. Mishka came first. That’s the way it had to be. That’s the way he wanted it. He wanted them to like her, but if they couldn’t, if they refused, he…he didn’t know what he would do.

Relaxing, Mishka twisted the wire again. “Bedroom.”