by Lora Leigh
"Don't stop."
"Never." His voice was ragged as his fingers eased from her, then returned. Eased back, returned again.
Lubricating her further, stretching her farther. Creating a need inside her that she suddenly feared would destroy her mind.
"Cam. Please." Her head dug into the mattress, her nails clenched at the sheet, finally tearing it away from the mattress as she felt him move closer, his hard thighs brushing against hers as the head of his cock slid against the prepared entrance.
"Easy," Cam crooned.
She felt the cool edge of the curved vibrator against the entrance of her pussy. It entered slowly, penetrating her as she writhed and tried to take more. She needed this. Needed it so desperately she was dying inside for it.
"Beautiful." He sighed behind her as the vibrator wedged inside her, the curled end pressing against her clit, the soft vibration tearing through her bundle of nerves.
"Hold it for me." He pulled at her arm, caught her hand, then drew it beneath her. "Hold it right there, sweetheart."
Her fingers curled against it, holding it in place. She was past denying him anything at this point.
Then she felt him, hard, thick—so hot. The crest of his cock pressed against the entrance to her ass, parted her, sent flames exploding, burning, tearing through her. It was pleasure and pain, agony and ecstasy, and she was dying for more.
"Cam!" She tried to scream his name, but she couldn't find the breath to scream.
"Should I stop, Jaci?" His voice was ragged, growling.
"No! Don't stop. Please. Oh God, Cam. It's killing me!"
She tried to rear back, tried to take more. A hard chuckle sounded behind her, and he eased farther inside her. Stars exploded behind her clenched eyelids, her body drew tight, juices spilled down her thighs.
"All of me, sweetheart." His rough croon stroked through her as he eased back, then eased farther inside.
Retreating, then penetrating farther.
"Mine." The sharp declaration of possession had her womb clenching, more juices spilling around the intrusion of the softly vibrating erotic toy.
Each slow advancement inside her rear tightened her pussy further, filled her more. Nerve endings became more sensitive, electrified, desperate for release.
She was crying now. She could feel the tears as they mixed with the perspiration on her face, need clawing inside her until she was certain she wouldn't survive it.
"Easy, baby. Sweet love. So tight and sweet and hot." His hand landed on her ass again, and she almost exploded. "So beautiful. So giving."
He pulled back, forged inside, deeper, taking all of her as she took all of him. She felt his balls, tight and hot, pressing into her, felt his cock, so thick, scorching, wedged inside her.
He was breathing roughly behind her. His breath sawing in and out of his chest, then his hands suddenly clenched on her hips.
Cam could hear her cries, the broken words, the pleas. He could hear the surrender in each broken cry and feel it as her ass flexed around his cock. He could do this. Take her like this. Find the distance by not staring into her eyes.
The vibration of the curved dildo echoed through the thin tissue that separated her pussy from her rear, the added sensation driving spikes of agonizing hunger through his veins.
God, he wanted to see her face. Her eyes. He wanted to be beneath her, watching her, filling her tight sex as Chase took her from behind. The ultimate surrender, and it was denied to him. He needed to give her this. She needed it or he might lose her forever.
He gritted his teeth and fought to take her easy. He pulled back, then reentered her. He shook his head, felt the sweat roll over his shoulders, chest, and abdomen. He felt her tighten, bearing down on the intrusion as she managed to push back, to force his cock deeper. And he felt his control break. He felt everything inside him flow into her, and thanked God she couldn't see his face.
She writhed beneath him, fucking back with each stroke and demanding more. She was wild in his arms, her auburn hair flaming over her shoulders, her head lifting as she rose before him, moving around him, begging for more.
He pressed her shoulders back to the mattress forcefully with his palm below her neck, gripped her hips with one hand, and began to thrust powerfully inside her.
Her ass rippled and clenched around him. Her cries filled his head. He was seconds—dear God—only seconds away from ecstasy.
Jaci fought the hold Cam had on her, feeling the burning pleasure and pain envelop her as he fucked her with smooth, hard strokes. The vibrator rocked inside her, curled up along her pussy, and pressed into her clit, driving shards of sensation through her womb.
Each strong thrust was agony and ecstasy. Each pushed her higher, burned hotter, deeper. She screamed his name, felt his hand land hard on her ass one last time, and then she exploded.
She couldn't breathe. Her eyes jerked open, dazed, unseeing, her body tensed, tightened, then a ragged scream left her throat as everything unraveled inside her with furious, blazing rapture. Explosions erupted in her clit, her pussy, her womb. Clenching, convulsing, she jerked beneath him then cried out again as he thrust inside her one last time before giving in to his own release.
And that release, buried so deep, sending thick, hot jets of his semen erupting inside her, threw her higher. It was more than the physical pleasure, more than the wicked intensity. It was the possession. A possession that defied the limits of either pleasure or pain finally erupted inside her soul and left her shaking, replete, beneath him.
Jaci collapsed on the bed as Cam shuddered behind her, his chest pressed tight to her back, his lips at her ear, his voice whispering, crooning, approving.
She didn't know what he was saying, couldn't make sense of the fractured words, but it didn't matter. She was drifting on clouds of pure satiation now, dazed, mesmerized by the aftereffects of his possession, as he slowly pulled free of her and collapsed on the bed beside her.
The vibrator eased from the tight clasp she had on it as he slowly pulled it free and silenced it. She heard a thump, a drawer grate closed, then he was pulling her in his arms, surrounding her with his warmth.
She didn't want to move. She wanted to drift here forever, so replete that even her soul dozed, sated with such an excess of pleasure that she didn't want to move. Not forever. Or at least for a few more hours.
She wanted to stay wrapped in the intimacy of being alone with him.
She didn't know how long they had lain entwined, exhaustion wrapping them together. But she knew when she felt him move. Cautiously, carefully, he untangled his body from hers, rolled to the side of the bed, and sat up.
She stayed still, praying, hoping against hope that he was going to lie back down beside her, that he was going to hold her for just a little longer—doze with her, let the final remnants of what he had done to her ease inside her before he deserted her.
Finally, long moments later, she heard him breathe out roughly, then felt his weight ease from the bed.
Damn him. Pain poured through her as she felt a sheet settle over her slowly, then listened as he picked up his clothes and left the room.
He would be back, she told herself. He wouldn't leave her alone like this, not after the pleasure he had just given her, the soul-deep possession he had just taken of her. He would not just desert her.
But he had.
She waited, listening carefully, and finally heard the muted drone of the television, the refrigerator door closing in the open kitchen.
Her eyes opened and she rolled over in the bed slowly, suddenly so lonely she could barely stand the feeling that poured through her.
Lifting herself from the bed, she pulled on a robe and then collected a pair of soft, cotton pants and a sleep shirt, before moving from the bedroom.
Standing at the entrance, she stared through the open rooms at the man that had just loved her as no other man had even had a chance to. In the time he had spent with h
er in that bed, he had marked her body and her spirit, laid claim to her heart, and left her pulsing in bliss. And now he was breaking her heart.
He sat in the recliner, a beer on the table in front of him, the television droning as he sat forward, his elbows braced on his knees, a heavy scowl lining his face.
He looked as lonely as she felt, and just as alone. Like a man who had faced a battle and came out on the losing end.
Moving toward the living area, she watched as his head lifted, his gaze flaring as he stared at her. His eyes were filled with shadows, with torment.
"I'm going to take a shower before I fix dinner. Would you like to join me?"
She took him by surprise. He blinked back at her, his lips parting as though he wanted to say something, before they pressed together firmly, and he gave a sharp nod.
"Cam."
He stopped as he moved to push himself from the chair.
"I can understand that you have an aversion to beds, but the next time you leave me like that without letting me know, without a touch or a word, then I'll walk out of this relationship. Do you understand me?"
His eyes narrowed on her.
"You hurt me," she continued. "Keep hurting me, and whatever's growing between us will turn bitter.
That's the only warning you're going to get."
His jaw clenched before he nodded again, dominance and arrogance at war with the challenge she was putting out to him and the demands she was making.
"Hurting you isn't what I want," he finally said.
"Then don't do that to me again," she whispered. "For both our sakes."
She watched his face as he moved to her, the heaviness in his expression, the flash of pain in his eyes.
Then his arms were around her, just a little too tight, his body tense as he held her to him.
"Never again," he promised, though his jaw bunched as it pressed against the top of her head, and she could feel the anger—it had to be anger—growing inside him.
She held onto him and closed her eyes tightly, wondering how in hell she was going to survive the pain she was watching brew inside him. Whatever it was, what they had done in that bedroom hadn't eased it.
The wildness was still there, the flaring desperation, and the haunting shadows that had no explanation.
She loved him, but she was beginning to wonder if love was going to be enough.
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The next night, Jaci tossed in the freshly made bed, uncomfortable, cold, and alone. Silence filled the apartment, except for the soft drone of the television.
Cam had kissed her forehead and told her good night. And then he had left her, moving from the bedroom back to the living room and the cold emptiness of the apartment.
Why? Why couldn't he sleep with her?
She rolled over to her back and stared at the ceiling above her. She hadn't expected this when she moved in with him, this sense of bonding, and still the aloneness. This was the second night he had taken her like a wild man, pushing her, pushing both of them, and leaving them shaking in the aftermath.
And it was the second time he had left her to face the night alone.
Well, too damned bad, because she had faced too many nights alone. Too many nights when she had needed him close to her and refused to allow herself other options. Too many nights when she had wondered what she had allowed to slip from her fingers. So, the fight was going to be harder than she had imagined it would be. She would just have to adapt.
She rose again from the bed, padded to the living area, and stared at Cam as he lay unmoving, silent and awake, on the large sectional couch.
The short curve of the cushioned furniture was empty, so she curled up there, her feet tucking against his as she drew another of the thin throws from the back of the couch and pulled it around her.
His legs parted enough to trap her feet farther within the warmth of them, then the television winked out.
Silence stretched between them, but it was a warm silence, one that felt comfortable, that wrapped around her and sent a surge of relief rocking her.
"Good night, Cam," she whispered.
"Good night, baby."
She turned on her side, tucked her back closer to the couch, and closed her eyes. Within minutes, sleep overcame her as it hadn't in that too-big, too-cold bed.
Cam knew the moment she fell asleep and lay still and silent, waiting for the sense of smothering unease to fill him. He hadn't slept with a woman since he was in his teens, since he was forced to stay in those old bitches' beds until the sun rose. He had rarely slept, certainly, other than once, he had barely dozed.
His skin had crawled with the feel of their naked bodies plastered against his back, their hands groping at him, even in their sleep.
Rather than the need to get up and find another place to sleep, a place alone, Cam found, instead, an uncertain peace. Jaci's feet were tucked against his lower legs, fragile, soft, and warm. He could see her face from where he lay, her expression serene now, as it hadn't been when he'd checked on her the night before.
She was comfortable and warm, and close to him.
His lips quirked at the thought of that, and at the fragile enjoyment he was finding in her feet shifting, pressing closer to him.
They had been cold when she first lay down and curled herself on the curved section of the couch. The chill had quickly turned to warmth though, and as she fell asleep, her graceful little toes had curled as though in contentment, before relaxing once again.
And now, rather than wondering how long he'd have to lie there before he could leave her without hurting her, he found drowsiness drifting over him instead.
He hadn't slept worth shit the night before, and he'd feared tonight would be no better. Now he smothered a yawn, let his eyes close, and found himself drifting to sleep with a speed and contentment that he hadn't known since he was a child.
Jaci muttered in her sleep as he felt himself drifting off, and he smiled at the sound. He could get used to that, he thought. He could get very used to it.
20
"I think it's singularly unfair that you're being given freedom to roam the club, while I have to beg for months just for a drink at the bar," Courtney pouted several days later, as she trailed Jaci through the club.
Jaci snapped another picture with the digital camera she used, before turning to look over her shoulder at her friend.
Courtney's eyes were filled with amusement, though her expression was less than pleased.
"No doubt you cause as much trouble in here as you do anywhere else," Jaci accused her. "Where's the fascination in it?" She let the camera hang by its strap below her breasts, as she made a few notes on the electronic notepad she carried with her.
"Tell me you see the possibilities, Jaci." Courtney's voice was scandalized. "It is an adventure."
"It's a place full of men," Jaci said as she lifted the camera and zoomed in on the molding at the ceiling.
"The exercise room is sweaty and smelly. The library is dark and gloomy, and the living area has a bar and a billiards table. Give me a break. It's so male-oriented, you nearly choke on the testosterone."
She could feel Courtney behind her, almost see the outraged expression on her friend's face.
"And they do not want us here." There was a pout in Courtney's voice. "They are determined to close us out of their little conversations and their conniving. It's totally unfair."
"Hmm. Maybe we should invite them to the spa with us," Jaci suggested. "See what they think about estrogen overload."
Unlike Courtney, Jaci had no interest in the club or the men who gathered there. She didn't want to know their identities, and she sure as hell didn't want to be a part of their conversations.
"You're being mean to me today." Courtney sighed, though Jaci heard the amusement in her voice.
"Doesn't it make you curious about them? Sometimes, I think if I could be invisible, then I could move about them, perhaps
find the answers I seek in what makes these men so different from others. The few I know that are members here are unlike other men. This fascinates me, wondering what has created these men, what makes them as they are."
"Have you asked Ian?" Jaci asked, though the only member that fascinated her was Cam.
"Ian's answers would only infuriate you." She rolled her eyes expressively. "He is a man. I have decided that male language and female language are not always compatible."
God, wasn't that the truth.
"Maybe men are just aliens," Jaci suggested, thinking of Cam.
Over the weekend, being with him had seemed so natural, so easy. She hadn't imagined that living in that huge apartment with him could be anything but taxing. She hadn't lived with anyone since she had moved from her parents' home.
But she had also realized there was so much about him that she didn't know, and that she didn't understand. Chase was easier to read. Cam hid much more of himself. She was learning that there was so much about him that she didn't know.
He was doing just as she had once asked him not to do, though. He was seducing his way not only into her heart, but around it, through it, binding her to him in a way she hadn't imagined she could be bound.
And at the same time, it worried her. The dark sexual core of him was growing. Despite the sexual excess of the weekend, he never seemed to lose that wild, desperate hunger growing inside him. And she was terribly afraid she knew the only thing that would ease it.
After she finished the photos and notes and walking through the club rooms, she returned to the main mansion with Courtney trailing behind her. Jaci couldn't help but wonder at the hunger driving Cam, and if she was making a mistake in pushing for more before giving into that need that tormented him.
There was something that warned her that whatever drove him, whatever tormented him, wouldn't be revealed easily. It was a part of him that worried her, even before she left Oklahoma.
That thought caused her to pause as she entered the office Ian had assigned her. She had known Cam before he joined the military. Admittedly, she had been too young then to understand much about the unsmiling Falladay twin. He was five years older than her. They hadn't even gone to the same school, but sometimes her father hired the boys to help on his small ranch.