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He wished he could curb the need. Pulling her to her feet, he knew there wasn’t a chance in hell. He was still dying for her. Dying for more.
Catching her around the waist, he moved her to the chair next to them, pushed her to her knees in the seat cushion, and pressed against her shoulders to lean over the back. Gripping the belt around her wrists, he held her in place as his knees bent and he pressed the still-hard, violently sensitive crown between the bare, soaked lips of her pussy.
Intense heat encased his cock. Slick, fiery syrup. He could hear her crying, begging for more. But he
wanted this to last. Wanted to feel every ripple of her pussy as he pressed inside her. Feel her tight.
“Ah God! Janey, baby. ” He bent his knees, worked in deeper, deeper, and felt every cell in his body catch fire as he lodged to the hilt inside her. “Sweet, sweet Janey. God, I love this. So tight. So fucking hot. ”
Janey was drifting in a haze of pleasure and need. Her pussy throbbed, flexed. Her clit was tortured.
Behind her, Alex held on to the belt with one hand as she felt the fingers of the other slide around her hip, pushing between her thighs.
“Poor little clit,” he groaned at her ear. “Poor sweet pussy. What do you need, Janey? Slow and easy?
Or hard? Fast? Do you want me to pound inside you, or slide in long and slow?”
She shook her head. She was supposed to decide? She wanted both. She wanted it all. Her head hung over the back of the chair as she panted, just trying to breathe through the pleasure.
“Do you need a little more burn, sweetheart?”
He was buried full-length inside her. How could he burn her more?
His hand rubbed the side of her ass; her eyes widened.
“Yes. Oh God, Alex. Yes. ” Her back arced, and a cry strangled from her throat as his hand landed on the side of her ass.
Again. He pulled back and his hand landed, not too hard, hard enough to burn, hard enough to send explosions of brilliant pleasure racing through her.
“So fucking pretty. ” He smoothed his hand over her, then lowered it, pressing her thighs farther apart.
His fingers rasped around her clit; then he was gripping her hip and plunging inside her. As though he couldn’t go deep enough, couldn’t fuck her hard enough.
Janey felt her muscles clamp down on him involuntarily, trying to hold him inside her, tightening on him seconds before the most incredible orgasm tore through her.
It lit up her mind. It sent brilliant shards of heat and light racing through her body as she screamed his name, cried, felt the tears that rolled from her eyes at the sheer, perfect brilliance of a release that soared through every fragment of her being.
She was pulsing around him. He slammed in deep, yelled her name, and she felt him, spurt after spurt filling her again, sinking deep inside her as her pussy flexed and tightened around him.
She was left limp, ragged. Her only tie to earth was his grip on her hip and the warmth of his body behind her. Because nothing in this world, nothing else, mattered in this single moment, but this.
It was after midnight, and Natches was still awake. He paced the living room of the ho
useboat, feeling the chill wind outside, though he knew it hadn’t penetrated the heavily insulated interior.
It was a chill he couldn’t shake inside.
Clad in jeans, barefoot, a longneck bottle of beer in his hand, he paced back to the closed shades of the door and paused. He took another drink of the beer, then paced back to the table. To the picture and the note.
She was the devil’s whore and now she’s breaking a good man. Your sister. Your responsibility.
Take care of her as you took care of her bastard, incestuous lover.
God, this was insane. He stared at the picture. It had been taken from the second floor of the building across the street from the restaurant. The window there looked directly into Janey’s window. Through the sheer curtains Natches could see the two forms. Alex and Janey. Alex was too damned big. Too fucking old for her.
He wiped his hand over his face and turned away. It looked as though Alex were forcing an embrace on her. Natches finished the beer and only barely managed to keep from throwing it at the wall.
“Natches. ”
