Tia needed wedding sex more than she ever dreamed, more than he ever dreamed. He was convinced as hell. She needed to be loved, cherished. She needed to be first. Needed to embrace that emotional pain instead of the physical. He’d be damned if he’d lose her after all this. He couldn’t have that blood on his hands. He wasn’t strong enough.
Jake kissed Tia’s neck, feeling her pulse under his lips. He’d given wedding sex to her for an evening. Why couldn’t he for a weekend? He wasn’t opposed to marriage. It just wasn’t for his lifestyle. But he was home now, and the house rules seemed to agree with marriage. Come Monday, they’d sort this out, and he’d make damned sure she’d never let another man hurt her. But for the weekend, they would be committed to each other.
He kissed her forehead, nudging a lock of hair from her face. So beautiful, and his heart ached even harder for her. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted you more.”
Tia sighed and turned her face away, unable to take the heat in his gaze any longer. He talked a good talk, Jake did. He made her feel beautiful, untarnished. Normal, if she didn’t take the whole masochist thing into account. But it didn’t solve her initial problem. His heart belonged somewhere else.
“I’m second best to you, Jake,” she reminded him softly.
“I’m second best to Kate. And I think you’re very sexy, very beautiful. I think you are smart, kind, and you may think you’re cold, but the real you is anything but. You’re warm and funny, and if I could learn to love a woman who wasn’t Kate, it would be you.”
So nice of him, like he was offering to trade brand names eventually, if he could stand the change. But a part of her understood where he was coming from. Love didn’t happen over a night of wedding role-play. “I can’t wait around for you to learn.”
“You don’t have to wait. Just… I can be what you want me to be. Whatever role you want me to play. I’ll be your fantasy. Let me learn to love you, Tia. Even if it’s just for the weekend.”
Fuck him or die…
That wasn’t at all what she wanted to hear. For once in her life, she wanted the real thing, not the fantasy.
Tia stiffened, shocked. Now, where the hell did that come from? She frowned, surprised her inner voice would go there. Every day she lived a fantasy, lived a role. She’d confessed her sins, and it hadn’t chased him away. In fact, he seemed even more hell-bent on dragging her into wedding sex purgatory. Maybe that’s what she deserved. If Jake wanted to be her fantasy, so be it. She’d give in.
She brushed her fingers along his jaw, and he dipped his head to kiss her neck, then her collarbone. Right now, her heart ached, and beneath the pain, she had lust that wanted to be fed. In the past, sometimes she used sex to chase away the emotional pain as much as she did to bring the physical pain. If she made love to him, under his tree, she could banish the bad pain for a little while.
She should be doing something different—running again, baking cookies, because whoring herself to Jake to kill the ache seemed wrong, even though she’d done it countless times before. But it was the only way she knew to make it leave. It was a double-edged sword. It hurt so badly, but if she made love with him again, it was going to hurt twice as bad.
She leaned up a little and let her lips brush his, once, twice. So sweet, so simple. The pain lessened. She pulled away to study his face, tracing the strong line of his jaw with her fingertips. She couldn’t name the emotions that filled his blue eyes, and he leaned closer before she could delve deeper.
“Kiss me,” he commanded hoarsely.
She brushed her lips on his again and he returned the gesture, his mouth just as gentle. She sucked his upper lip between hers, then his lower, then slanted across both, the fire in her belly growing. He finally touched her lips with his tongue, and she parted for him, the jolt of pleasure as her tongue touched his electrifying. Who knew something so simple could be so erotic? His tongue tangled with hers, and she gasped into his mouth, the fire in her belly flaming into an inferno that dipped to her pussy.
She ignored the growing need and let him explore her mouth at his leisure, so slow, still gentle. His mouth tasted the corner of her lips, then nibbled along her jaw, down to her neck. Strong fingers undid one button, then two, parting the material of her shirt, and she almost shook at the sensation of the pads of his fingers trailing between her breasts. He’d never undressed her before, shy of taking the nightgown off over her head. There’d never been any need for seduction.
He paused, as if assessing her charms, and kissed the top of one breast, then the other. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered. “Your breasts are perfect. You’re perfect.”
Years ago, she had learned never to believe a spy. But today, she wanted to believe Jake.
She framed his head in her hands and held him close, and he responded by pressing his lips harder to her skin. He palmed her breast, his thumb passing over her nipple with the slightest touch. Her breath hitched, and it took every ounce of strength not to thrust her chest into his large hand. He undid the front clasp of her bra and freed her breasts, the blue material falling to the side.
He traced under the swell of her left breast and along the underside of the right and then cupped them, his thumbs so close to her nipples. His breath was hot along the skin. He drew her left nipple into his mouth, sucking lightly, his tongue toying with the peak. Moisture flooded her panties, and she shifted her hips just a bit, angling so his groin came in contact with hers. His cock was already hard as he ground against her.
He lifted his head. “You want something more?”
“More?” She wiggled her hips under his, need taking over. “Whatever you wish.”
“Role?”
She hesitated. After all, she had told him she didn’t know what she wanted, except for him to make love to her so the pain would go away. But she went back to the fantasy, where he was her cover—fuck him or die. He should call the shots. “Whatever you want.”
“I want to be married to you for the weekend.”
The pain in her heart increased ten-fold, and she drew in a deep breath. Fuck him or die didn’t seem to be working at the moment. “Oh. I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
He sucked her nipple, the suction intense, and then let it pop from his mouth. “It’s a perfect idea. Then you’re first. I’m first. You’ll come hard all weekend and maybe the emotional pain will leave. When Monday comes, we can decide where this goes.”
She already knew where their relationship had to go. If she were brave enough, she’d face Chase and get him to give her someone different for a partner. Or work alone. But she wasn’t brave. It had been all she could do to sit in a room alone with Chase during an interview, despite the fact he had been ultra professional and never once hinted of their past. So she was stuck.
But Jake had asked, and she didn’t have the voice to tell him no wedding sex. As much as it hurt, she’d give it to him because… She thought for a moment as he caressed her body and made her feel so beautiful and cherished. That was exactly why. Even though she was second best, he still did a damned good job of making her feel whole. Beautiful. First. And she needed that, in the worst way. For the weekend, only.
“Fine. I’ll be yours, but for the weekend only.” It killed her to do this, but it had to be done. “We go back to work and it’s over, Jake. I can’t sleep with you and be your partner. It didn’t work with Blondie. When the weekend is over, we both move on. I become nothing to you. Nothing but work.”
He frowned. “Are you sure?”
“I don’t think it takes a rocket scientist to figure this out.”
He nodded but looked a little like she had crushed something inside him. Why would he care? He fucked women and left them all the time. He was a player. A man whore. A male version of her.
Jake nodded again. “But I want this for the weekend. I think you need it.”
She still didn’t agree, didn’t feel it was a good idea. If a night of being first was hard, how would she survive come Monday morning when she was nothing to him? It killed her to know as much as she had seen in her life, she wasn’t brave enough to just end it, now, before she got hurt.
The tough girl in her sighed and went back to pretending. Fuck him or die—it seemed to be working again. “Whatever you want.”
Jake reached around the tree and dragged something back. “I have something you might like.” From a bag, he pulled out something jingly.
“Nipple clamps?” She looked closer. “Those are mine. You went through my stuff?”
He laughed. “Please. You went through mine, I’m sure.”
She glared, but yes, she’d gone through his bag briefly before she showered. He had nothing of interest except she really liked his knife. It was part of being a spy, knowing what the other was up to. The one with the most knowledge won. But she was quickly losing this game.
“I don’t think clamps are vanilla.” But she trembled a little at the thought of him using them. This was the pain she sought. Good pain that would hopefully overshadow the ache in her heart and make it go away. Everything else they had done together had been so much more intense than at the club—clamps had to go the final distance.
As if to prove that, he dipped his head and sucked her nipple. The nub hardened under his tongue and teeth until it was ready. She kept her eyes closed as he applied the clamp, the sweet sting following and bringing a gasp to her lips. He began the same to the other nipple, and she sighed with need when he gave an experimental yank on the connecting chain. Yes, this is what she wanted. Needed.
“Then your vibrator is off limits, too? The butt plug?”
Nothing was off limits to him. If he wanted this, he could have it, for the weekend only. She thought for a moment. “If you use the plug, and we do it missionary style, doesn’t that cancel out the kink? The position alone is vanilla enough to follow the rules.”
His grin was so naughty it took her breath away. “I think that’s perfect logic.” He tugged the chain connecting the two clamps together, harder than the time before.
Bliss flew on the wings of the sting, the pleasure echoed by the throbbing of her pussy.
“Would you come for me if I licked your pussy?” He tugged her chain again, and her lust intensified.
She sucked in a deep breath and blew it out. This was the pain she could handle. That she wanted.
Bring it, bad boy
. “I’d rather you be inside me.”
“I’ll end up there, don’t worry.” He kissed a path between her breasts, using his mouth to tug her chain again. She arched off the blanket but bit her lip to keep quiet.
“Moan for me. You’re too hard for me to read, wife. I want to know when my tongue is a green for go. If I have to ask you what color you are, I’ll punish you. If you fake an orgasm, I’ll punish you harder. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she whispered. She’d never been vocal. Never wanted more than what she was given.
“Yes, what?” He tugged the chain again.
“Yes, Husband.” She moaned, wanting to please him.
He sucked the clamp and her nipple, and she obeyed by making a soft sound in the back of her throat. She wanted his fingers inside her pussy, sliding, pounding deep as he would later with his cock. Then his mouth continued downward, lapping her stomach. He unbuttoned her jeans, tugged at her waistband, and she lifted her hips so he could slide the denim down her legs.
He shucked his jeans and shirt and returned to the blanket, golden and naked. He rested between her thighs again, his breath hot on her slit. He blew out and she jumped.
“I have a new rule,” he informed her as his tongue darted out to tap her clit.
“I don’t think the house likes new rules,” she said on a gasp as his fingers replaced his tongue, strumming her hard nub.
“This is a husband rule. I don’t want you to wear any panties for the rest of the weekend.”
“That’s it? Any good Dom does that.” Thank God, a rule she could handle.
“Well, I am not anyone’s Dom here, so no panties unless they are crotchless. I want to finger you, fuck you, or lick your pussy at any time.”
He slipped two fingers inside her cunt and pumped gently, as if to prove a point. She rose into his hand, welcoming the thickness of his fingers.
“You had a skirt in one bag. I want you to wear that, so I can love you all weekend, whenever, wherever. You can wear jeans when you ride and shorts or something to run, but I want access to your pussy when I wish to have it. Would you like that?”
Maybe this
wasn’t
a rule she could handle. Her mind didn’t like it one bit. They’d end up fucking like newlyweds. On the table, on the porch, on the stairs… The thought of him creeping behind her and caressing her folds as she cooked dinner made her pussy wet, needy. His fingers were already sliding into her core easily, but now the wetness dribbled down the crack of her ass and her need ratcheted up a level. No panties might be as bad as wedding sex.
“I guess you
would
like that,” he said with a smug smile as he explored the growing dampness, his fingers making wet noises as he pumped them in and out. He lowered his head. “You are going to taste so good.”
He gave his own moan as he sank his tongue alongside his fingers, lapping her juices. His finger toyed with her clit, then caressed her outer lips. His tongue danced back up to her clit again, and this time, when he sucked, one hand snuck up and tugged the nipple chain.
“Oh,” she breathed, suddenly so close to coming, and he’d barely nibbled at her.
“You going to come?”
“I’m so close.” The waves inside her core crashed with wild intensity, like the pounding of the ocean, threatening to toss her overboard.
“I want you to come, around my fingers, against my mouth. When you do come, you are to say my name. Keep your legs open.”
Keep her legs open? She wanted to clamp them to his head as it was and ride his face. But his wishes prevailed hers. She spread her legs wider, so when she finally came she’d be able to please him. It didn’t take long. He sucked her clit, gave two hard tugs on her chain, and the thrill of pain sent a shock straight to her pussy, igniting her core into flaming orgasm.