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“I don't want to shower.”
“Too bad.”
I glared.
He was unbelievably bossy. I grimaced as something dribbled down my thigh, hating that he was right; a shower was needed.
He pulled me from the bed and straight to his mouth. I could smell my own musk on his lips and I hated the thrill that arced through my veins.
There was something inherently sexy about the way they smelled together.
I’d always been an odd duck about those things. I had a thing with smells.
And although it didn’t make any sense, I liked the way Jameson smelled.
Especially now.
Too bad he was the devil.
His hand found my bare flesh and he slowly rubbed the slick moisture from his seed all over my mound. I was both horrified and fascinated at the same time.
Was this normal?
Nothing about our situation could be deemed normal by any means.
“You see this? This is mine and always will be,” he told me, causing a shiver to dance down my spine. “No matter where you go, or who you're with...this will forever be mine because I was first.”
And I knew in that moment, he was right.
It didn't matter who I ended up with in the future, I would always carry the mental mark of Jameson Reed's touch.
I wanted to hate that.
But there was a part of me that went breathless and weak in the knee at the knowledge — and that made me want to scream.
“You're wrong,” I lied. “As soon as I leave this place, I'll forget all about you.”
My taunt did nothing but make him laugh.
“We'll see about that,” he said, finding my clit and slowly caressing the tiny pleasure spot.
I gasped as he pushed his finger inside me, his finger going easily thanks to the fact his seed was still dribbling down my thigh.
“You want to know what I think? I think you know that there's something between us that defies explanation, something that will always pulse with need and want and that scares the shit out of you.”
Maybe he was right but I’d go to my grave before admitting it.
I forced a small smile. “You can think what you want; it's a free country.”
Jameson laughed at my ballsy quip and withdrew his finger with deliberate care then shocked me when he pushed that finger into my own mouth.
I shocked myself when I licked it clean.
“You're more than you seem,” he said, his dark eyes gleaming. “More than the good girl. Deep down beats the heart of a bad girl.”
He laughed at my consternation and kissed me again, this time quickly and without fanfare.
“C’mon, time to rinse off so we can get dirty all over again.”
I hesitated but I didn’t have much choice. Jameson wasn’t the type to take no for an answer and shuttled me off to the bathroom to do as he’d instructed.
The water sluiced over our bodies, raining softly from the surprisingly expensive showerhead, reminding me of the tropical rain I saw in movies and imagined from books.
Truth was, I’d never been to the tropics of any sort.
Between bailing out my brother and trying to keep a roof over my head, there wasn't a lot left over to toss around.
I gasped as Jameson ran the soap over my body, paying particular attention to the hard, jutting peaks of my breasts as he washed away the evidence of his seed from between my legs and beyond.
I felt removed from the situation and yet strangely steeped in sensual awareness.
Ridiculous — I knew I couldn't experience both — but somehow…I was.
“You're body is exquisite,” he murmured, his big hands spanning my waist and dipping between my legs. “How is it that no one has managed to pluck that cherry?”
“I told you, I was waiting for someone special,” I said with a sigh, losing my ability to remain rigid and removed from his touch.
Jameson did wicked things to my resolve and it wasn't fair.
“When did you become a crooked cop?”
Jameson pulled away, his gaze narrowing. “Watch it.”
“Truth hurts?”
He grabbed the showerhead and pulled it free from the clip, rinsing the soap away. "You didn't have to say yes...probably would've been better if you'd told me to go fuck myself."
"You had me over a barrel and you know it."
"Maybe I saw an opportunity to force you to see that your brother is a worthless piece of trash. You know what the sad thing is? You're doing all the sacrificing and yet, your brother is happy to just take and take, giving nothing back. My guess is if he knew what you'd done for him...he'd mumble something about kicking my ass but secretly he'll think he's got something new to leverage with in his low-life circles."
"That's bullshit," I said, stung, but the worst part? I worried Jameson was right and that fear pierced my heart.
"Go ahead lie to yourself, tell yourself he's the kid you used to know. Doesn't change reality." He shrugged and replaced the showerhead. "Fuck it, who cares. You can believe what you want. None of my business."
"That's right...it's not."
Jameson smirked and placed his big body in front of the spray. "You're too fucking hot for your own good, you know that?"
I stifled a shudder of awareness. Why did he affect me like this?
I wanted to dredge up revulsion and hatred for what he'd forced me to do but there was something so primal, so raw about Jameson that I was drawn against my better judgment.
I started to speak but Jameson wasn't in the mood to listen.
Instead, he simply claimed my mouth and filled his hands with my breasts, pushing me against the shower wall, his cock thick and ready, pressing against my belly.
Thank God, I was on the pill.
Even though I’d been saving myself, the pill had helped ease my menstrual cycle when the cramps had become unbearable.
Still, even if pregnancy wasn't a worry…I pushed at him desperately and he stopped with a question in his gaze.
“I’m on the pill because of my periods but what about STDs? Are you clean?”
“I am. Clean bill of health. I get checked every three months.” He hesitated and then admitted, “I’ve always worn condoms. Except with you.”
A tiny thrill tickled my stomach. "Why? What's so special about me?"
Jameson’s hesitation said as much as the hunger in his dark eyes. Maybe he didn’t know the answer but he didn’t want to push for one either.
Neither of us wanted to acknowledge that something pulsed between us.
Something out of our control.
“I like being inside you,” he finally said, jerking me to him as if I belonged in his arms. There was something so possessive about his touch that I couldn’t help but soften against him.
Even as his grip was firm, his tongue darted with slow, languid strokes against mine and I melted.
He was an enigma.
Brutal and unyielding in one breath; giving and generous in the next.
Before long I was clinging to him, hoisted onto his hips.
His cock ground against my feminine core and I wiggled with insistent, greedy thrusts, hungry for that thick rod to split me once again.
He parted my seam and pushed himself inside, grunting with the effort as he sank into my willing heat.
Impaled on that engorged length, I forgot my hatred, forgot my earlier revulsion and simply moaned with abject pleasure as he slammed me against the wall, knocking down shampoo and other toiletries.
"I could fuck you all day," he said with a tight groan as he buried himself deeper, pushing his length into my body as far as he could go.
We were practically one, he was lost so deep.
And oh, God, I loved it.
Heaven help me to my utter shame…I was greedy for more.
Jameson
Exhausted and ravenous, I walked on unsteady feet out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.
We’d fucked slow and hard i
n the shower and then once more on the bed.
I was dehydrated as fuck and if I didn't get some fluid, I’d collapse.
I tossed a bottled water to Ivy and guzzled one of my own.
She wore one of my shirts, an old metal rock tee, a throw-back from my misguided youth.
And damn, it looked fucking hot on her.
But then, she'd probably look pretty damn good in a garbage sack.
“You hungry?”
“I could eat.”
“Good.”
I grabbed a package of steaks from the fridge and a pan.
While I made quick work of frying up the steaks, she hopped up on the counter to watch.
Her blond hair, tumbling down her back, still damp from the shower, made wet spots right where her tits were.
It took great restraint not to lift her shirt and suck on her nipples like a baby needing milk.
“You can cook.”
I nodded. "A man should be able to do two things in this world; cook and fuck. The rest will fall into place."
She bit her lip. "Pretty simple philosophy."
"I'm a simple guy."
"You're anything but simple. I've figured that much out."
Her observation struck a chord but I hid it well.
I was a loner, which was why I was a good deep cover cop. I didn't form attachments and I excelled at making superficial connections with dirtbags.
Maybe because my own childhood had been an excellent training ground.
"How do you like your meat?"
"Medium rare."
"Smart girl."
I served up the steaks and buttered two slices of thick French bread. “Grub’s on“
