Unwrapping the Best Man Page 6

  ‘I don’t need gentle, Jackson. I just need you.’

  I breathe in deeply, needing it to calm me as she wets her lips and smiles. ‘I want you to make love to me.’

  My breath catches, icy shards piercing my skin with the cold sweat that spreads instantly. ‘I don’t make love, Cait, I fuck.’

  There’s a flicker of something in her gaze before the shutter falls and it’s gone too quickly for me to read, but I’m backing away when she grips the silk still connecting us and tugs. ‘Then fuck me, Jackson.’

  Heat consumes me, her demand seeing off the hesitation, and I’m striding forward, forcing her back to the bedpost as I crush my lips to hers. To hell with my perfect plan. I kiss her to force out any stray doubt, I kiss her to remember how she tastes, I kiss her to coax out her sultry little moans in the hope I can get enough.

  It’s her hands lifting to my hair that brings me back a second’s clarity, a reminder of the cravat caught between us and why it’s there. I tug it down, her hand with it as I tear my mouth away.

  ‘What’s your safe word, Cait?’

  She blinks up at me all dazed, but I know she’ll have one—hell, most members of Blacks do.

  ‘My...my safe word?’

  I study her face, see the high colour in her cheeks and the widening of her eyes.

  ‘Yes.’ Please tell me she has one. I can’t be the first to ask, the first to need...

  ‘Would red suffice?’ She swallows hard, a confident smile quick to follow. ‘Or is that a little common?’

  I’m thrown. First by her hesitation, her obvious inexperience, next by her flippant remark, and hell, those eyes, those big blue orbs that I can feel myself getting lost in. They scare me and I spin her away to face the post, her body hot beneath my fingers at her hips and I breathe in the scent of her hair, close my eyes tight as I press my lips to the blazing mass. Get it under control.

  ‘No, red is perfect.’ I sweep her hair over one shoulder and kiss the tip of her ear, then lower as I scrape my teeth along her lobe and feel her shudder as she gives a breathy little moan. ‘Red matches your fire.’

  I stroke my free hand down her front, tracing a delicate path between her breasts and brush my arm, only very slightly, against her nipple. It’s enough to make her rock and I smile as I flatten my palm over her stomach, smoothing it down further.

  ‘Are you wet for me again?’

  I press a kiss to her shoulder as she nods, her stomach contracting beneath my palm.

  ‘Do you want me to touch you?’

  ‘Yes,’ she whispers, her hands reaching back to claw at my kilt.

  ‘No.’ I step back. ‘Not until I say.’

  She looks at me over her shoulder, all mutinous and wanton in one. ‘Not fair.’

  I can’t help but grin. ‘I want you to hold onto the post.’

  Her eyes narrow but she does as I ask, and I sweep my hand lower, brushing over her curls. My intent is simply to tease but she tilts her pelvis into my touch, the impatient move forcing my fingers deeper. And fuck, I’m too turned on by the evidence of her need surrounding my fingers to rebuke her for taking what she wants.

  I pull back and she makes a panicked whimper, the sound turning into a pleasing moan as I roll over her clit, make the move more deliberate and she bucks, one hand flying to cover mine as she tries to ride me, to take over and I nip her shoulder in punishment.

  ‘I told you to hold the post.’

  ‘But you’re driving me crazy.’

  ‘And I’m about to drive you crazier...’ I take hold of her hand, place it back on the post and squeeze her fingers around the wood. ‘I’ll make it worth your while.’

  Her eyes blaze into mine. ‘You promise?’

  I chuckle deep within my throat. ‘I promise. But this time you won’t come until I say. Understood?’

  Her eyes flash, the colour in her cheeks deepens, and I know she’s reliving her forbidden climax against the tree.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good.’ I reach around her to take up the free end of the cravat. ‘Lower your hands down the post.’

  I watch her trail her fingers down the wood, her eyes still fixed on me.

  ‘Lower.’ I press a kiss to her shoulder, another nip. ‘Lower still.’

  The move forces her to bend forward, her arse pushing me back and nudging at my hardness. I clench my jaw as the heat rushes to greet her, my cock so grateful for the sweeping touch. And I know the force of it, of every touch, every caress, every sound is amplified because it’s her. Caitlin. Surrendering to me.

  I walk around her, a safe distance, as I wrap the silk around the bedpost and bind it to her other wrist, my eyes averted as she watches me tie her down and test the binding. There’s a little give, but not enough to free herself.

  ‘Perfect.’

  I say it in reference to the bond but as my eyes trail over her I know I’m talking about her.

  I deliberately chose to position her this way, to have her body facing away in an attempt to keep the hunger under control and my eyes out of hers. But I realise the error I’ve made, because now she’s bent over, her arse thrusting up, her breasts falling free and she’s all mine.

  She’s all mine for the taking.

  The image and idea merge and send the blasted sporran lifting parallel to the floor. She cocks one eyebrow at the sight and wets her lips, ever brazen. I know she likes that she can see how much I want her, but it’s my turn; I want the same from her.

  I trail my fingers down her back as I walk away and turn to eye her salaciously upturned rear from a safe distance—the perfect vantage point. ‘Step wider.’

  She does it.

  ‘More.’ The hint of her pussy, her wetness grips me, winds me, and I drag in a breath.

  ‘Again.’

  She does it, turning her head to look at me. ‘Better?’

  Fuck, yes.

  ‘I’ll take that as a yes,’ she says, eyeing my need, goading me.

  My lips quirk. Goading me, she’s fucking goading me, even when she’s at my mercy. I shouldn’t love it but I do. It’s so her.

  I step forward and palm her arse cheeks, so soft and warm as I circle over them, gripping and kneading, exploring and spreading, eyeing her tightly puckered opening and knowing what it is I want, what I have planned.

  ‘Admiring your handiwork,’ she murmurs.

  ‘I’m admiring you...’ I spread her arse wide to emphasise my point ‘...before I take you.’

  Her breath is a hiss in, her head lifting as she rocks back, telling me how much she likes it, how much more she wants. I dip one hand to her pussy, finger-fuck her deep and she tightens around me, her, ‘Yes,’ loud enough to echo around the room, but I don’t care if anyone else hears. Not now. I’m too lost to this. To her.

  My fingers are saturated by her need and I drag them up, between her crack, and tease them against her opening, easing the tip of one finger inside as she moans and thrashes, and I have to use my other hand to grip her steady.

  In and out, I ease. Sweat beads over her skin, along her spine as she starts to mewl, mewl like a fucking kitten, begging as her head falls forward, her eyes on the floor as she forces me deeper inside her. Thank fuck she can’t see my face. I know how unguarded I am in this moment but hell, Caitlin like this, for me, her wrists bound, her body mine; it’s more than hot, it’s...it’s...

  I quit my mind, I quit the motion and spin away. I’m shaken. Torn inside.

  It’s just sex, Jackson—sex.

  ‘Jackson.’ My name is a plea. Hell, she thinks I’m doing this to tease her. What would she say if she knew the truth? That I’m too shaken up by her.

  I unbutton the collar of my shirt and several more, desperate to ease the tightness in my throat, my chest, but it’s all a placebo effect. I know it has nothing to do with the shirt an
d everything to do with what this is doing to me, to her, to us.

  I unfasten the sporran as I head to the chest of drawers and tug it away from my waist with more force than it requires and the straps whip against the antique wood.

  ‘You’d think you were uptight about something,’ she says, always with the teasing, and it only serves to highlight how very different this is. How very different she is. No other lover would dare to tease me now. They play a role, a submissive role to all intents and purposes. Though I’m no Dom. I’m just a control freak in bed.

  But her confidence, her knowledge of me, her ease around me...not even Eliza projected this kind of...this kind of what?

  Vibrancy, relaxed arrogance, easy appeal...

  I flick open the sporran and take out a condom, feeling her eyes on me, inquisitive, searching.

  ‘I’m clean,’ she says into the quiet. ‘We have to be, don’t we?’

  She means for Blacks. Testing is a must. My mind tries to torture me with all the partners Cait may have had... May? Okay, has had. And it’s a healthy reminder that this is all it is for her too—more sex. A bit of fun. Nothing serious, nothing more.

  I look to her, still bent forward, her breasts waiting for me to cup, her upturned arse daring me to return and I swallow. ‘What about birth control?’

  She nods, her eyes below my waist again as she takes in my dogged need beneath the kilt. I should strip the rest of my clothing away, but I’m used to being clothed while my lovers are stripped bare. It’s another piece of my control, my delayed gratification, and I’ve never needed it more than I do right now.

  I toss the condom back on the side and stalk towards her.

  She traps her lip in her teeth once more and her arse gives a little wriggle of its own. Like she knows that’s exactly where I’ll start. That it wasn’t an empty promise. I plan to fill her from behind while my fingers take her from the front; I want her filled to the brim with me. Only me.

  ‘You’re not going to strip?’ she asks as I come up behind her.

  My one-sided grin gives her my answer. ‘I think you like me in a skirt.’

  Her laugh is a flirtatious lilt and as I trail one finger down her spine I feel it ripple through her, the next coming from her in a breathy whisper. ‘You should wear it back home.’

  My cock beats its own answer, desperate to thrust inside her. I use it to block out the reference to home, to where this cannot happen, and flick the kilt up. My erection lands against the warm skin of her arse and she rocks to caress it, trying to take some control and tease.

  ‘Not so fast.’ I press her away and widen my stance, bend my legs as I force my cock to slide along her seam. She gives a breathy little, ‘Yes,’ and arches her spine, her legs straightening up and locking in place as she tries to draw the sensation out.

  ‘You’re so responsive,’ I murmur.

  ‘And you’re a tease.’

  Her fight has my cock jerking up, pre-cum already escaping, and I take a controlled breath, gripping her hips to raise her that little bit more. Better. I angle myself and rock, catching her clit with the head of my dick and smothering myself in her liquid heat. Each move coaxes out a whimper, a whimper that’s building in its desperation and, together with her slick warmth surrounding me, it’s pushing me to the brink.

  It’s that worry that has my hand tightening around the base of my cock, my other easing around to her front, seeking out her clit, needing her to be as far gone as I am. I circle over the hard nub and she writhes, moans. I step back, freeing my cock to palm her arse again. To knead and grope before I dip my fingers inside her molten wet heat. One finger, two, three. Christ, she’s so hot for me they slide in with ease and my cock is bucking, ready to jack off all by itself—fuck.

  ‘Please, Jackson, please...’

  ‘What is it, baby?’

  ‘I need to... I want to...’

  Her words are barely audible, her body barely moving now as she tightens every limb in an attempt to stave it off: the climax I haven’t yet permitted.

  ‘Not yet.’

  Her eyes are glazed with lust as she looks to me over her shoulder.

  I ease my fingers out and run them between the cheeks of her arse and her lashes flutter, her lips parting with a breathy moan.

  ‘I want to be inside you, here...’ I finger her tight opening, lubricated with her own dampness ‘...when you come.’

  Christ, I do. I want to fuck her every which way she’ll have me and never have to face the question of what this means for us going forward.

  ‘Stay still.’

  I caress her arse cheeks, exploring like I did before, only this time my cock is buried between her legs, easing back and forth, lubricating itself on her. I ease the tip of my finger inside her tight opening and she lets out a strained cry, her body trembling as she works to hold herself still, and I grip her hip to keep her there as I ease in further.

  ‘That’s it, baby...push out, take me in.’

  She opens to me as I delve deeper, the sheen of sweat on her skin builds, my own too. I reach around her and stroke over her clit, pressing until she begs.

  ‘Fuck me, Jackson, fuck me now.’

  She’s ready, I can feel it. And hell, I am. But I need to keep this slow, I need to keep it in tune with her. I slip my cock from between her legs, position my moist head where my fingers once were and push slowly.

  She stills; her breathing quiets.

  ‘Relax, baby, relax.’ I stand straighter, one hand low on her back, the other guiding myself inside her. The sight of my head pressing inside her arse is enough to tip me over and I clench my jaw, feeling my body pulse. Not yet.

  The master of delayed gratification—like hell!

  It’s taking every last shred of control not to come like some inexperienced fool.

  ‘You feel so good, Jackson.’

  Her arse opens around me as she pushes out and moves back and fuck, I’m stretching her wide, going in deep. I grind my teeth, keep my movements slow, steady. Talk is impossible now.

  ‘So fucking good,’ she moans, the blissful sound echoing through me, melding with my own cries that I’m barely aware of making.

  I reach around her front, my cock half buried inside her as I seek out her clit. I need to... I want her to... I need her on the precipice. She bucks back with a moan, a plea. ‘Now, Jackson, now... I need to...please.’

  ‘Yes, come for me, baby, come for me.’

  It’s like turning on a switch. She writhes against my finger, my cock, her whole body pulsing and then she arches, her cry guttural as she lets go and my cock sinks inside her, deep, closed in, squeezed. I try to back out, scared to hurt her, but she pulses around me, her muscles clenching and holding me there and, Jesus, I can’t hold back any more.

  Pleasure rips through me and I throw my head back and let go. The world spins, my head filled with her pleasure-charged moans as I call out her name again and again. And then my head falls forward, my eyes take in my cock buried so deep within her, and I take a sucker punch straight to the heart. I know it.

  I fear it, but I know it.

  I may be arse-deep in Caitlin, but I’m the one who’s well and truly fucked.

  I bend over and ease her up against me as I move us forward and slide her hands up the post. She’s all breathless and warm, her soft little noises doing a merry dance over my writhing gut.

  Silently, I untie her wrists and scoop her up. She looks up at me, but I can’t meet her gaze. I’m too exposed, too fucking vulnerable. I fucked her like I promised—we had sex, just sex. So why the hell do I feel like I’ve just used the most important person in my life and ruined her in one fell swoop? Worse, why do I want to keep her in my arms and never let her go?

  I swore this would never happen again. That I would never want to keep a woman in my life. Ever. I fuck and go.

&n
bsp; I use like I was once used, always with full consent.

  But Cait...fuck, Cait.

  She rubs her head into my shoulder, snuggles down, and my heart clenches in my chest. I flick away the covers on the bed and lie her down before drawing them back up to her chin.

  She blinks up at me and pats the space next to her, her eyes sleepy, her smile sultry and warm and everything I could ever want is looking at me right now.

  No.

  I look away. Drag in air.

  ‘Come to bed?’

  I force my eyes back to her. And when I do my chest swells fit to burst. She’s all soft and inviting, big eyes and wild hair, and I swallow. Hell, I can hardly leave now. We’ve already made a pact: a holiday fling.

  But getting into bed is almost as bad as vanilla sex. Vanilla sex while looking into Cait’s captivating blues. I shake my head to clear the dangerous vision so strong in its possibility, its near reality, and swallow down the swell of emotion it sparks.

  Never going to happen.

  But to fuck and run would make me a callous chicken shit, and I’m neither.

  Or so I thought.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Four months later

  ‘SLOW DOWN, CAIT, you’re making me dizzy!’

  I spin around and practically dance backwards on the pavement as I grin at Coco, my arms laden with shopping bags. ‘I want to do Hamleys before closing; I love it there this time of year, with their cute little window displays and the excitement of the kids.’

  ‘Seriously, I’d rather be doing Harrods.’

  ‘Well, I need to get Jake something and Harrods ain’t going to work.’

  ‘Jake—your nephew?’

  ‘Yup, and the twins, Annie and Alice. I can also see if they have anything for Joe’s kids, although they’re older and a royal pain in the whatsit to buy for, and it needs to be something cool. I am the young, funky aunt after all.’

  She laughs. ‘Oh, there’s no risk of you losing that crown.’

  ‘There really is.’ I cringe at her as I continue to bounce backwards. ‘I have no idea what to get them, and my brother is about as helpful as a chocolate fireguard—ah, now there’s an idea!’ I press a finger to my lips, crushing half my shopping bags to my chest. ‘Chocolate, lots of! Can’t go wrong, hey? Still, that’s more of an add-on gift...not the main deal.’