Brock’s hand came to rest over her inflamed behind. He rubbed the roundness through the gauzy cotton of her shorts.
“I’m sure your cute little ass is as red as a cherry. Pity I can’t see the results of my hard work.”
A final sob choked itself loose from the restrained chorus of whimpers as he continued to massage her tormented cheeks. Her hands curled into fists where they rested on the floor as heat soon replaced the stinging pain. She relaxed on his lap and grunted out a warning as his fingers brushed against the soft skin just above the waistband of her shorts.
“You might’ve spanked the living daylights out of me,” she sniffed in a teary voice, “but unless I want you to, you don’t get to strip me, so move your hand or prepare to suffer the loss of a digit or two.”
It was hard enough to suppress the lust searing through her that turned her loins into a raging inferno, she didn’t need to feel his hard palm further tenderizing the sensitive veneer of her buttocks. That could prove fatal, embarrassing even, when she climaxed on the spot.
Not happening. I might want the bastard, but I’ll be damned if I let him know just how much even while I’m suffering in pain.
His attentive manipulations ceased under her stiffening body. She seemed to wait for retaliation. A pleased smile brightened his face. He had read her accurately. The submissive in her wanted him— the Dom.Strike one!The problem was, he wanted more— a helluva lot more, and that might not be so easy to tap into her subjugation.
“Breathe, little one,” he surprised her by saying as he forced oxygen deep into his lungs in an effort to aid her in calming her ire. He loved the brat in her, but he didn’t want to spook her by pushing too hard too fast. It was time to hit the brakes.
Slow and easy wins the race, Brock, remember that.
“Hmm,” he murmured as he traced the small of her back while he continued to rub the rounded curve of her buttocks. The way she arched into the caress eased his mind. For the first time since he’d uttered that emotional oath to Cecile, he didn’t feel guilty about the emotions running through him. It felt right. More than that, it left him feeling invigorated, filled with hope for the future.
Jordan became aware of the purring sounds crawling from her chest and how her back bowed into his touch. She froze as she detected a change in the atmosphere, like they had been struck by lightning. A shudder followed the path of his hand skimming her back. She felt it then… the change in his caress. Her eyes fluttered closed as she struggled to comprehend what was happening.
Kismet! Call it what you like but it was there, in a moment of closeness. She was inundated with the emotions possessing every inch of her body, her heart— even her soul. She stood helpless against the power unsurpassed, cloaking her in a promise of… lord, she had no idea what. All she knew was that in a flash of charged voltage, his soul had connected with hers in a silent vow that staggered her. She heard him echo in her mind… forcefully, demandingly, with a possessiveness she’d never experienced before.
One word that broke all her resistance.
Mine!
Oh fuck and shitting seagulls! I am totally screwed!
Jordan had no idea how she had escaped so quickly from his lap but there she was suddenly standing in front of him. They stared at each other silently even while their hearts battled with the unexpected feelings bursting out.
Her fingers fluttered over the angry faded scars covering his bicep. He didn’t move. He had stopped hiding them. They were as much a part of him as every rippling muscle she traced. The cicatrix was broad and rough, courtesy of a blunt knife wielded by a renegade leader of a group of deflectors in Afghanistan who had taken pleasure in cutting him before he nearly ripped half his skin off in a fit of fury. He’d almost lost his arm since they hadn’t bothered to treat or stitch up the wound. A medic had tried his best but doing it in the field as they were escaping hadn’t lent itself to cosmetics.
He appreciated that she didn’t ask about it. Probably because she bore quite a couple herself, which he’d noticed the previous night in the bathtub. His respect for her rose exponentially but it didn’t lessen the need to know whether she was disgusted by the sight.
“You know,” she purred, “our heart’s intentions show where we’re going and the physical scars show where we’ve been.”
For the first time, Brock really looked at her tall, curvaceous frame, the full breasts, and the scarred thighs. In all of that, all he saw was beauty.
Her eyes had turned dark, threatening to steal away his breath as she studied his face. A mane of hair like an obsidian waterfall, cascaded down her back. Hands, strong yet gentle. And her mouth… damn! How he yearned to kiss that mouth.
And so he did. Grasping her hand, he tugged her onto his lap and caught her mouth full on in an open-mouthed, sexually demanding kiss.He fisted her hair to angle her head for complete domination of the act.
Jordan turned towards him, working her hands around his body to caress each line along his perfect physique.
The kiss was steeped in a passion that ignited every nerve ending in her body. It held a promise of passion, of the primal desire that lived in every human being and with it the message was clear. He was secure within his own soul having no intention of hiding behind the facade of the powerful Dominant that he was. It was a silent vow that he was embracing along with the remarkable connection that began to form between them.
Holy hell, this man can kiss and he’s offering me exactly what I’m after! Himself… every inch of his gorgeously hot body.
Except she was after more… so much more.
Chapter Five
“We leave them alone for an hour and what do they do? They start humping like… hey, don’t stop on our account,” Cruz quipped as he led the troupe’s entrance into the house.
Jordan broke away from the kiss but didn’t immediately scramble off his lap. Instead, she stared at him with an intensity that searched as much as it questioned.
“Soon, little one,” he responded to the enquiring look.