Somebody's Wife: The Jackson Brothers, Book 3 (7 page)

She smacked him lip to lip, grabbed her glass of wine, then scurried down the hall to prepare the bedroom. After fiddling with the first handcuff, she got the hang of it and had the other three on the brass rails in no time. The fuzzy blue fake fur clashed with her flower-print bedspread, but she didn’t care. Oddly enough, the lined cuffs were cheaper than the brand preferred by cops. Of course, she could have gotten the leather cuffs which were lined with real lambskin, but Mitch definitely would have pitched a fit over how much they cost.

Ooh, bad thought, Mitch castigation was not allowed tonight.

She laid out the blindfold, which was really just an eye covering like you’d wear on planes to cut out the light, across the pillow. She didn’t need scented candles, vases of flowers, sexy lingerie, bubble baths, or romantic words. She just needed him to want her again. She needed his excitement. The stage set, she called out, “Honey, I’m ready.”

Oh boy, was she ready. First, she’d cuff him, then lick his nipples, because he said it tickled when she sucked them. Normally he wouldn’t let her for very long, but this time she’d do it for as long as she wanted. Then she’d climb on top to ride him. At her own pace, fast or slow, well, she liked to start out slow, then fast. Usually, Mitch let her do it for a while, but in the end, he’d flip her over onto her back and pound. Which was nice, very nice, but...she wanted to be in control.

His footsteps stopped in the doorway. When she turned, he stood, feet spread, the wineglass hanging heedlessly in his fingers. Then he raised it to his lips and sipped, his gaze on the handcuffs at each post on the bed.

“What would my mom say if she knew you were into bondage?”

Connie smiled. “She suggested them.”

His eyes went wide for a moment, then one side of his mouth quirked. “Liar.” He winked. “I like that you thought it up all on your own.”

He hadn’t said a word about the money she’d spent.

“Take off your clothes and get on the bed,” she ordered.

He twirled the glass in his hand, looked from the cuffs, to her, to the blindfold, then back to the cuffs. “I think you’d look better in fuzzy blue.”

She shook her head. “No. They’re for you. You can use them on me later.”

He toed off his shoes, left them in the doorway, then sauntered to the end of the bed, and focused on the coverlet as if something lay on it.

“You know what I see in my mind’s eye?”

“No.”

“I see you. Blindfolded. Naked. Spread-eagled.” He leaned forward, one hand on the brass stead.

Her heart raced. She could see it, too. She could feel his words as if he were touching her as he spoke.

“I see your pretty pink pussy. It is so beautiful and so wet. It’s begging me to kiss it. Lick it. Suck it.”

He turned slowly, capturing her gaze with his. She saw her own reflection in his eyes, felt her breath trying to push past her throat, and tingled with a thrill that drenched her pussy.

“And when you start to come, I’m going to hold you down. I’m going to lick you until you can’t help but scream, until it’s so freaking intense that tears come to your eyes, until you think one more second and you’ll die from the pleasure. And then I’ll lick you some more.”

Her mouth had gone dry. It hurt to swallow. She didn’t recognize the huskiness of his voice or the heat in his eyes, as if another man had taken his place, as if she were the most important thing in the world to him. As if he wanted this so badly, he’d sacrifice anything to have it.

Connie couldn’t have done a thing to resist him.

Chapter Six

Without another word, he reached out and slid one spaghetti strap down her arm. All she wore was the thin cotton dress, no panties, no bra. He pushed the other strap off her shoulder. The bodice caught on her breasts, her almost painfully hard nipples. Eyes locked with hers, he put one finger in the center of the neckline and tugged the dress down.

Hot, breathless, wet, achy, she felt as if his gaze consumed her. This was brand new, as if they were first-time lovers when the heat and the need were all fresh and untried. When she couldn’t wait for his touch or the sound of his voice. When she’d go mad if he didn’t take her right this minute.

The dress fell past her breasts. His finger continued the trail across her abdomen, but with the zipper fastened, the material wouldn’t go over her hips. And still he gazed at her.

Tipping the wineglass to her lips, he let her sip the sweet wine, then he whispered a command. “Undo it.”

She couldn’t help herself. The wine went to her head. She unzipped because he told her to, then pushed the dress past her hips, letting it flutter to the carpet.

“Get on the bed.”

She wanted, needed, to do whatever he said. She climbed onto the bed, hands and knees first, her bottom facing him. Then she flopped to her side, turned, and looked at him.

“Now lay down and spread your legs and arms.” With a touch, he directed her to lay width-wise, so the bedstead didn’t obstruct his view of her.

She’d wanted to tie him down, yet his voice mesmerized her, his eyes tawny like a lion, heated, powerful. He managed to find the one thing she’d thought about in the shop, being forced to accept the pleasure, not being able to get away, the intensity almost unbearable. Allowing him control over when she came, how hard she came, for how long.

He set his wine on the bedside table, then secured her leg in the first handcuff. Trailing fingers along her skin, wherever he could reach, he repeated the procedure with feet and hands until she was restrained and spread for his eyes alone. Standing behind her, he leaned over, kissing her upside down.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered, “and you’re all mine.”

Her heart tripped. She’d wanted this for so long, the words, the need. She’d wanted it, yet she’d forgotten how it made her soar, how it eclipsed every other thought in her head.

He padded once more around the bed, returning to the place he’d started. His gaze fixed on the triangle between her legs, he popped the buttons on his shirt and dropped his jeans. His penis jutted, a greedy length.

He climbed between her legs, reaching for the blindfold.

“No. I want to watch.”

He shook his head slowly, dipping down to kiss, lick, then suck her nipple into his mouth. “You bought it, must mean you want it, so we’re using it.”

He slipped the elastic band behind her head and fit the material to her eyes. His chest flattened to hers, and he fiddled a moment with the bottom of the covering, making sure for himself that she couldn’t see from beneath.

“I’d turn out the lights,” he said, “but
I
want to see. Everything.”

He slid down her body, trailing his tongue over her breasts, dipping into her belly button. Without sight, the sensations were all fresh, acute. His lips were softer, his tongue warmer, the pads of his fingers rougher. His scent, intensely male, intoxicated her, filling her head like a drugging incense. He turned his face, and his hair brushed her belly, the feeling electrifying. How many times had she run her hands through his hair, yet never had she felt each individual strand like this or savored its thick softness. The lack of sight intensified everything, made each single stroke the center of her universe.

He parted her folds and blew lightly. Her body arched. Her whole being became her throbbing clitoris.

“Mitch, please.”

He prodded her with the stiffened tip of his tongue, then delved down to lap straight up inside her.

“Jesus, baby, you are so wet.”

“I got turned on thinking about sucking you.”

He followed up his tongue action with two fingers. “I like that sucking me makes you hot. Licking you is about to make my balls explode.”

She wriggled as much as the cuffs would allow. They weren’t tight, but she couldn’t bring her legs together nor find the leverage to push her hips off the bed.

“Stop talking, please.”

“Whatever you want, baby,” he whispered, then assaulted her clitoris as if it were quarry he had to subdue. Fast, sharp licks, then a suck, followed by slow swirl that quivered along every nerve endings, from the bud of her clitoris to each square inch of her skin. He set her on fire inside and out. She moaned, letting him know his effect. She was so wet and hot, moisture trickled down to the bedspread.

“Please don’t stop, please don’t stop.” She panted, tossed her head on the bed. Spirals of near violent pleasure shot out and back. “Oh God, I’m going to come, I’m coming.”

He slid down to lick her opening, and the force fled, the orgasm retreating.

She raised her head as if she could see him. “What are you doing? I was almost there.”

He chuckled. “I know. But you weren’t ready yet.”

“I was, too. I was more than ready.”

She felt him shake his head, his faintly stubbled cheeks caressing her inner thighs. “You weren’t screaming and begging.”

“Do it again, I’ll beg, I promise.”

Blowing on her, he started the whole thing over again, pushing her higher and higher, forcing a fast pant from her, until finally she keened for the come.

He pulled back again, this time nipping her thigh.

“
What
are you doing?”

He gave her that all-knowing chuckle again. “It can be better, baby, I know it can. Just be patient.”

“Please, Mitch, let me come.” There, she was begging.

He squeezed her thighs. Her skin felt near to bursting, on fire with his touch. She wriggled, presenting him with her so-called beautiful pussy and showing how needy it was, how needy
she
was.

“Please, Mitchie.”

He didn’t, he wouldn’t, torturing her, shoving her to the precipice, holding her a moment away from orgasm. Beneath the mask, her eyes teared with need, she begged and pleaded, yet he kept her on the razor-sharp edge until she was delirious.

“Please, please, please, oh God, oh God, oh God.” Her mind whirled, her thoughts, her feelings, everything centered on his tongue and her clitoris and the screaming, aching need. Flailing her arms and legs as far as the cuffs would allow, the chant pounded inside her head. She would implode. Cease to exist.

“Pleeeeease.” A long wail escaped her lips, fell into the night, surrounding them both.

Mitch sucked her clit into his mouth, flashed his tongue over the hard bead, then stabbed the hot flesh repeatedly.

She went off like Mount Saint Helens, bucking and heaving. He held onto her hips, keeping her on the knife edge of orgasm, making her ride long and hard. He held her when she fought him, when the pleasure was at its peak, its intensity near painful, when she was no longer inside her own body. When everything centered on the orgasm. When she’d do anything for him.

He knew the feeling exactly. When he was inside her, when his mind existed only for her, only to come in her. He needed that now more than he’d ever needed anything. He needed her.

Without giving her time to come down off the high, he slid up her body, ripped the mask from her face, and drove inside her. Her dazed and glassy gaze didn’t even focus on him. But her body took him, rippled beneath him, shot close to orgasm once more as he ground against her and inside her. She milked him with her muscles, caressing his cock as he thrust.

“Kiss me, baby.” He wished now he’d removed the handcuffs. He wanted her wrapped around him, all of her, arms, legs, pussy. Taking her mouth, he ravished her lips, ravaged her body, and staked his claim far more thoroughly than any mere protestations of love could do. Then he lost himself in a violent, shattering orgasm that turned him senseless to anything but the feel of her body, the taste of her tongue, and the scent of her release.

* * * * *

He lay between her legs, his weight pinning her to the bed. Mitch rolled to the side.

“I’m sorry, baby.”

Connie’s chest rose, dragging in the air he’d denied her.

“Are your wrists all right?” He glanced at her restraints. She’d fought them, hard. Hopefully the fuzzy blue material saved her from slicing flesh on the metal.

She turned her head, slowly, as if returning from a long distance. Closing her eyes, she rested a moment, filled herself with another deep breath, then gazed at him. “I can’t feel them. I can’t feel anything. I think I died and went to heaven.”

“Me, too, baby.”

“Mitchie, that was the best.”

She called him that in extreme moments. Or when she wanted to piss him off. It was a testament to how profound the loving had been. For the life of him, he couldn’t remember a moment better than when he’d flooded her with his essence, his soul.

Powerful and elemental enough to make a baby. Part of him soared, praying he’d given her that in the most spectacular moment of their marriage.

Another part trembled with fear. Jesus, what had he done?

He slid off the bed, unable to face her, unable to let her see the panic in his eyes or the tension suddenly riding his face.

“I better undo you. Are you sure I didn’t pull too hard on your arms or legs?”

“You were right. That was better than if I tied you down.”

The moment she came would live in his body, a tactile memory, for the rest of his days. No matter what happened. Her pleasure had brought him to the edge of reason. He could have done nothing beyond burying himself inside her. He couldn’t have fought the need if he’d tried.

It was only now that his gut began its relentless trembling, when he realized what he might have done to their lives. Another baby, another mouth, another responsibility he couldn’t face.

Four depending on him.

Had she taken her pill today? He’d checked this morning, but he couldn’t remember the count. He had the overwhelming urge to check again, to assure himself. Would she remember tomorrow? Or the next day? Could he take care of them all?

His head spun. From heaven to hell in sixty seconds.

He undid the handcuffs, kissing each slightly reddened spot, then reverently setting her limbs upon the bed.

“I love you, Mitch. We’re going to be fine. Aren’t we?”

“Yeah, Connie, we are.” But he couldn’t look at her. He felt lower than low. He didn’t know how the hell he would keep her and the kids safe. For now, he concentrated on her body, caressing her skin. “I do love you.” Despite his fears, he’d never questioned that.