FlakJacket (7 page)

Witch.
“Tell me
no
now, or I will take everything that you are offering.” He murmured against her lips. It was her last chance to stop him.

Madison nipped at him, and her voice rang out in arousal. “Do it.” Once again, that’s all it took. He swept her up in his arms and moved down the hall to his bedroom. His body was screaming for everything he could take from her. He placed her on the bed and followed her down, covering her body with his own. Alarms were ringing in the back of his head, but he ignored them, and for the first time in his life—he acted with very little thought.

He cradled her head in his hands, his tongue busy in her mouth. They snaked down to her waistband, and her short shorts were gone as he slid them from her legs with her help; her naked body lay before him, and his mouth changed direction and went south, kissing her wherever he could find a new, sensitive spot. She managed pull him up and to unbutton his shirt and unzip his pants, but he had to help her to get them off. Her fingers skimmed his length, feeling his hardness in her grasp. His manipulation of her body stopped, bringing a cry from her lips.

“Don’t stop.”

His lips teased hers in a dance, and his whisper could barely be heard. “Just slowing a bit. I want to savor you.”
Witch, and you are a witch
. “I am completely out of my element.” He watched her and captured her yet again, his body now perfectly aligned on hers. He was a sight to behold, a warrior taking what was his.

Her voice clutched at his soul. “I want you Jordan. Make no mistake about that—this is a not a taking—it is a joining.” She had never seen this part of her future, his body covering hers, his teeth and his lips claiming her everywhere; she could barely handle the gamut of feelings that rushed through her. Never had she felt like this in a man’s arms.

His low voice growled back: “I’m not sure of anything right now.” His hands were on her hips, then on her backside, along her thighs and finally, they crept deeply into her body to her impassioned cry.

“Oh God, oh God.” He kept up his finger foreplay as her passion grew, and she became wetter, her womb weeping for him, beckoning him in. Her hips bucked under his hands and mouth. As his hands reached up to pinch the tips of her breasts, he straightened her legs and pushed her feet up to lie flat on his bed pushing her legs wide apart; she was open for him and trembling as he pushed her knees even wider to accommodate his body. He drove in hard, spearing her body with his own to her loud cry. A thin barrier met his thrust and ripped as he plunged in deeply.

Fucking A. She had never been with a man before
.

His mind struggled to process the information, but she moved beneath him, and he forgot all about that as his own passion soared. He claimed her again, driving in and out of her tight body. Her cries became inarticulate, his moans joining hers. Her legs climbed around his waist as she pulled him tighter into her body and he slid further into her; she tensed as his thumb pushed hard on her sex, driving her into an intensive climax that went on and on. Her scream was his name. He emptied himself into the depths of her, his own climax rolling over him and spiking hers anew. He was in the moment like never before; she was physically his. Heartbeats slowed, muscles relaxed, and breathing became measured, his mouth still wandering over her flesh.

They lay in a tangled heap of arms and legs and sheets and bodies, her lips on his chest, her hands sweeping softly over his abdomen. He had wrapped his body around hers in a protective stance, holding her to him. His lips continued to place teasing kisses on her forehead.

“Madison?” It was a painful whisper as if he was unsure how she would feel about what had just happened between them.

“Jordan. No post mortem now. I just want to lie with you and feel you around me. I am in a very happy place.”

He hesitated, but he didn’t know what to say and her request seemed reasonable; she wasn’t going any place until morning. He would make sure she was with him this night. “All right.” He kissed her, nibbling a bit. Later, there were things to be said between them—and they would be said.

She touched her abdomen, knowing the child was there and noting that in his sleep, Jordan’s hand completely covered hers where it lay. They were bringing someone new into the world.

H
e woke to her gentle breathing on his chest, her leg over his as if to keep him in his place. He had no idea what had triggered the explosion between them, but now he would have to take care of it. His repressed emotions had exploded leaving him vulnerable again—he already felt something for her sweet body, and he had opened himself up again to pain. He shut his eyes feigning sleep. He couldn’t blame the alcohol for what he had done; he had wanted her; It was time to admit it.

Jordan felt Madison’s small body move from her place atop him; she planted several small kisses on his chest, and she slipped quietly out of the bed and went into the bathroom. She pushed the door almost closed behind her. He glanced down at the small amount of dried blood on the sheet. His fingers touched it—her maidenhood gone, thanks to him. What had happened to his iron control?

He eased himself up and followed her silently to the bathroom door, inching it open and watching her lean gracefully to fill the tub with water and oils. Her hair cascaded to her shoulders in a riot of red curls and a soft smile played on her lips. As he watched her climb into the tub and sink slowly down into the warm water, he felt a jolt to his system; his sharp eyes noticed many fine white lines crisscrossing her lower back and backside. He picked them up for what they were—whip marks. Someone had severely beaten this woman in the past. There were healed lines at the very tops of her thighs as well.
Why hadn’t he noticed?
It was because she had hidden it well, and he hadn’t been looking. Who had done this to her? He tried to clear his head, imagining the pain of that whipping.

And now, they had another tangled web to sort because he had used no protection, another conundrum. Perhaps she was on birth control; he fervently hoped so.  Jordan almost went into the bathroom and demanded to inspect the rest of her body, but now was not the time. He bit his lips and went back to the bed, climbing in and sitting up against the headboard, rubbing his jaw, his rock hard body on display. He needed a plan, and he needed it now.

Madison knew she had little time to bathe. She had two interviews with TV stations to do, and she needed to be ready by 9:00 AM. Jordan had told her he would see she was escorted by car to her destinations; there would be no lingering here. Jordan’s child was in her future—she knew it with certainly now, but her vision had not included the carnal way it would happen or even if the two of them would stay together.

But, what a night! She had never felt like this before, and she hugged the memory close capturing it while she could; she suspected it would be fleeting. She washed herself carefully, her whole body somewhat sore from their raucous joining; Jordan was an overwhelming lover. She emerged from the bathroom to find him watching her intently, sitting up in their shared bed, the sheet now placed low on his body for decency. “Good morning.”
His Witch was bright-eyed
. “I would have joined you if you had awakened me.”

“I might have had something to say about that,” she replied, her eyebrows up.

He laughed. “You would have welcomed me, and you know it.” He had to talk with her.

“I have to get ready for my interviews right now,” she said as she walked out of his room
au natural
and towards the steps to go upstairs.

“You really should put something on, you know,” he called after her.

“Back at you Jordan.” He smiled at her comeback. He shrugged and got up, pulling the sheets off the bed and stuffing them in the washer; he touched the blood spot one more time before adding powder and turning it on. Then he went into his bath to shower.

Madison skipped down the stairs, her hand once again on her stomach, dressed in a cool violet sundress and heels. It had happened—she carried a child.

She smelled bacon from the kitchen, so she headed that way. Her place was already set beside his with juice and hot coffee. Jordan was cooking; he flipped a pancake unaware that she was standing behind him. “Wow. I didn’t know that you could do that.” He turned with a welcoming grin on his face.

“I can do many things that you don’t know about. Pull up a stool.” He watched as she gingerly climbed on it; she must be sore. He had used her body well.

He put three strips of bacon on her plate and served up two pancakes to her. He did the same with his own only with twice as much food and sat down beside her to eat; they ate in companionable silence. Then they sat drinking their coffee, Jordan’s hand rubbing absently on her bare thigh remembering the highlights of last night.

“Michael will accompany you this morning to your two interviews. I have other things that I must attend to, but he will take good care of you. I have others who will be watching you.”

“All right.”

“Do not stay beyond your interview. I want you home to rest; you have another event for tonight. I couldn’t cancel it, or I would have. You seem to be in great demand, but I’ve cleared your schedule for the next few days. I want you to rest, Madison.”

“My refugee issue is in great demand. I really should be back in Jordan helping and not here.” He pursed his lips.

“We’ll talk all that out. For now, just be careful.” He leaned over to touch her face. “Everything has changed,”
Witch
, “and you know it.” He regarded her intently. “I will see you when you get home, and we will talk about last night. I programmed my number into your phone. If you need me, call, and I mean that. You will continue to stay with me, and I don’t want to hear anything about your leaving.” The front door opened, and Michael came in.

“You ready?” She slid off the stool. Jordan sat still, hating to see her go, his eyes following her. She went through the door, and it closed.
Why did he feel like the earth had moved beneath his feet? There was nothing between them but unbridled sex—and he meant to keep it that way.

When he went into his office, the police report from Chicago was in his inbox. He sat down to read it carefully. Much of it had been redacted, but the gist of it was that Madison had been at a party with two female friends; she was seen on a surveillance camera with three men who were struggling with her; she seemed to be physically fighting with them. A scream was heard, but when it was reported, she was already gone.

She had been found five hours later along a road, drugged and in distress. The police arrested her, but then released her within the hour. The report indicated that she had been badly hurt and taken to a hospital; the toxicology report had shown a cocktail of drugs in her system, one of them the date rape drug. He sat back. She had not been raped; he knew that to be a fact, and there was no evidence of a rape kit being conducted on her at the time of her hospitalization. Why? He glanced at the photographs that were in the file. The bruises on her face and arms and neck were shocking and two of her ribs were cracked, her wrists marked with what appeared to be cuts from cable ties. She had been struck and kicked repeatedly. He put in a call to her father; he needed to know more about this incident.

“Hello.”

“Mr. Kelly. This is Jordan Lassiter. I need to discuss your daughter. The reports I have before me are troubling.”

“You’re looking at the report from the Chicago arrest, aren’t you? She was abducted from a party by three men, drugged and probably raped. She refused to talk about it, and I didn’t press her. She just closed in on herself. She had cracked ribs, and she didn’t speak for almost a month after the attack because of her damaged windpipe; she had a major concussion as well.” He paused. “She wasn’t supposed to live through it.”

“Did the police ever find these men?”

“We have photographs of them, but they couldn’t be found.”

“I want those photographs. Send them to me by courier, not through the Internet. And before you ask, your daughter is fine.”

“She’s been through so much. She needs to give all this shit up.” There was a hesitation. “There are rumors racing around that she is gifted with some kind of healing power and insight. There is a prophecy about a woman, a white witch walking among men. Have you seen any evidence of that?”

Jordan pondered the question.
Hell yes, he had
.

“She needs psychological help.” Well—how was that for support? Jordan didn’t reply except to say goodbye as he ended the call. Things had just gone from bad to worse. This woman knew things, and how was he to protect her if she wouldn’t talk to him? She was scarred physically and emotionally, but he knew she was a strong woman and a loving one. Her interactions with people showed her true character. She was a giver. He made a note to research this myth of the white witch. He shook his head in laughter; hell, he might have just slept with her.

He began to compile a list. First there were her assailants, three men who were obviously sent by someone else to teach her a very painful lesson. It was meant to look like a rape, to besmirch her reputation as a woman, but it was far more than that. They wanted her scared, and they had almost gone too far.

Then there was Thomas Hull; his attraction to her as a woman remained from what Jordan had seen. That man still wanted her, and while he had covered for his friend, Jordan felt that someone had ordered the earlier premeditated attack. There was also the hired assassin that he had stopped who said she had a price on her head; if that were true, there could be more attempts on her life. Did everyone want her dead or taken, or would badly injured do? It was a roulette wheel—and it was spinning.

He had made her HIS
—that had not been a brilliant move on his part, and he couldn’t really blame it on the alcohol. He knew what he was doing when his hands first touched her. He ran those very hands through his hair when another thought silently crept in—
she could be carrying his child.