Sweet Seduction Surrender (Sweet Seduction, Book 4) Page 8

  I nodded, making my hair pull where he held it tightly.

  "I want noise, Kate. Lots of it. I want to hear you when I take you, when I make you mine."

  I nodded again, no way was I arguing with that idea right now. I was so turned on.

  "Fuck," he breathed out again, as though to himself. His hand still running smooth circles over my butt cheek. Then without warning, he impaled himself to the hilt in one swift plunge.

  I made a sound, it obviously wasn't enough for him, because he pulled me upright by my hair. It was much rougher than I was used to, but right in that moment I don't think either of us were complaining at all.

  "Was that good for you, baby?"

  "Yes," I moaned as he rocked back and forward, his thrusts determined and controlled; hard and fast, and timed to match my panting breaths.

  "Are you sure, 'cause I can't hear you," he growled in my ear. "Let go, Kate. I'll catch you."

  "Jason," was all I managed as an unexpected orgasm struck from nowhere. I knew I'd been turned on, I knew I'd been more aroused than I had ever been in my life, but the force with which I was pummelled by the ecstasy the orgasm created was breath stealing. All I managed after saying his name was one long, loud scream.

  "Yes," he said on an expelled breath of hot air at my neck. "Yes," he moaned as his own release shattered his control and made his movements no longer measured and determined, but frantic and a little bit insane.

  We were both breathing too hard as he pushed my body forward gently to lean us over the back of the couch. His lips laid a trail of delicate kisses against the skin at the nape of my neck, his sweat mixed with mine through the back of my silk robe, making it cling to my frame between our feverish bodies.

  We lay there for several unbelievably dizzy seconds, blood pounding through my body sending endorphins tingling through my frame. A lazy smile graced my lips. I don't think I could have been happier. I'd heard of the different types of sex people could have. Jealous sex. Revenge sex. Make-Up sex. But nothing beat the passion of mid-argument sex.

  I could so get used to this.

  Jason let out a long sigh, pulling a bit of his weight off my body slightly. He brushed my straggly hair off my face, where it had come loose from my ponytail.

  "You are a surprise, Kate," he whispered softly. But when I went to turn around and face him, he pushed his body back into mine to hold me in place. "But I will still spank your fine butt if you do anything as reckless as you did today again."

  A shiver raced down my spine. It had nothing to do with fear, but everything to do with delightful anticipation.

  "Fuck," he breathed again at my back. "That fucking turns you on, doesn't it?"

  I didn't answer. Let him await our next argument with as much heightened anticipation as me.

  It was only fair, after all.

  Chapter 8

  Kate, Kate, Kate

  I did get to review the contract eventually. But only after Jason opened it away from me and begrudgingly handed it over, once he knew it wasn't a bomb or something, with another reminder of how angry he was that it was here at all. I just smiled sweetly and once the forms were in my hand waltzed off to my office to red flag the file. I should have started work on the project. There's a lot I could do over the phone or via email, but even though the Monday start date I'd given Mrs Montgomery-Smith was a misdirection, I didn't see the point in slaving away until then.

  Not with Jason Cain in my house.

  I came out of the office to find him sprawled across the settee. The settee he'd just had his decidedly wicked way with me on. My turn to smirk. He caught the smile on my face and chuckled, then patted the seat next to him in invitation.

  "I'm sure we can use this thing for what it's actually designed to do," he said, surfing channels as he spoke.

  "Bah," I scoffed. "What fun is that?" I slipped into the seat beside him as his head turned to look me in the face.

  "You are a naughty girl, Ms Anscombe. But I must admit to needing a little recovery time. Shall we watch a movie and then you can tell me all of your fantasies in great detail. We've got the whole night ahead of us, after all."

  "We have? What did Eric say?" I asked.

  Jason settled on the movie channel and placed the remote on the armrest, then lifted his arm next to me in a clear sign he wanted me to get closer. I was momentarily caught off guard. I don't know why. He'd cuddled after sex in bed, why not now? But it was an image I'd failed to imagine in my head, so no matter how much it was wanted, it still surprised.

  I snuggled in though, no way was I missing an opportunity to touch his body.

  "Ben is in Wellington helping the police bring down their mob boss. Once that's all handled, then Nick will have something to keep King happy with back here."

  "Declan King wants this other guy out of the picture?" I asked, piecing it all together.

  "Yeah, that's about the upshot of it all. Once McLaren is contained, King has free rein of the North Island. Nick will make sure he realises it's because of ASI."

  "A favour to win a reprieve."

  "Yep. Nick's good at that sort of thing."

  I was pleased to hear Jason speak so highly of my brother. There was obvious respect there, even if they'd been at each other's throats when Jason first came to town to help out his sister, Gen. Obviously both men had developed a healthy working relationship. It boded well for any personal relationship Jason and I would have in the future.

  And just like that I was on uncertain ground.

  Jason didn't notice, turning his attention to the movie which had just begun screening. Eventually, I cleared my mind of all the discordant thoughts tumbling through it, and settled in to watch as well.

  It was altogether too pleasant an experience, watching a comedy on TV with Jason at my side. We heated up a frozen pizza when we got hungry, found a second movie as the afternoon turned into night, and through it all he held me close, making sure I was sprawled across the couch and resting my cheek against his chest, while his arm wrapped around me protectively, comfortingly. It was a feeling, a beautiful sensation, I could easily get used to. I could already tell a part of me had fallen for this man in more ways than I cared to interpret.

  I mean, I'd always been attracted to him, from the first moment we met, despite his rude greeting and less than enthusiastic response to my presence at Dominic's house. I had been confused at his instant obvious dislike of me, but intrigued nonetheless. I'd never been one of those girls who went for the rugged bad boy image. I liked my men strong, sure, but not dismissive.

  So why had I been dreaming about Jason Cain? And why did this moment, surreal as it was, feel so very much wanted and right?

  Because, if I was honest, for the first time in my life a man didn't treat me the way I expected, the way I had come to regard as my right. Those who met me within my family social setting treated me as the daughter of a well respected man. They showed the correct amount of consideration, never over stepping the mark. It was boring, and although some were very agreeable, none ever made my stomach flip or my heart beat out of my chest.

  And then there were those who I met through work, who showed respect of my professional accomplishments, the right amount of admiration for my skills and what I had achieved, and treated me with courtesy, showering me with dinners and events that matched the level of esteem I had earned. Again, they were often enjoyable encounters, but they rarely led to a second date.

  I had experienced one safe 'tryst' after another. Some had managed to get closer than others, even making it to my bed. But none were anything more than what I expected. No surprises. No risks. No life.

  Jason had been correct, I realised. I did just float through my world without trying too hard, without putting myself out there in the hopes that I'd find something special, something that made my world spin, rather than just pass by.

  It was an uncomfortable epiphany. But my troubled thoughts were interrupted by Jason's cellphone. The ringtone was a standard old
school phone bell-type trill, which cut through the closing credits of the movie with a jarring-like quality.

  Jason withdrew his arm from around me and picked his phone up from the side table where he'd had it resting. He still had things on around his waist, but he'd manoeuvred them all to the other side, including his gun and the knife I'd threatened him with. I was certain it wasn't so much to keep them out of my reach, but to make it comfortable for me when I lay against him. That made my heart speed up for some reason.

  "Cain," he announced into the phone, not giving away the fact he was lounging on my settee with my body pressed hard up against his. He sounded professional and one hundred percent on the job.

  "Good to know," he added, after whoever was on the other end had said their piece. "Hear from you in the morning then," he concluded and swiped the screen to end the call.

  He returned the phone to the table and turned to look at me. I waited patiently for him to convey whatever message the caller had left.

  "Eric," he explained. "McLaren's been arrested. Nick's got an early morning breakfast meeting scheduled with King tomorrow. We're still on lock-down until Nick gives the OK."

  "Oh," I said softly. My mind racing to catch up with my hormones, which were already on board with one more night in Jason's arms. "So...?" I began.

  "So," he finished for me. Then added with a wicked gleam in his eyes. "I'm not sleeping on the couch again tonight."

  "I thought you didn't sleep," I pointed out, my heart pumping in my chest.

  "I didn't last night. King could have made a move. He's unlikely to tonight with McLaren out of the way, but the lock-down's in effect until we can be certain he's appeased." He waited a beat, then said, "Not that I plan on doing much sleeping tonight either, but for entirely different reasons."

  His voice had lowered on those last words sending a thrill of desire and anticipation through me.

  "I thought you needed time to recover," I pointed out, playing devil's advocate in the steady and hungry looking gaze he had on me.

  "I'm young and fit, Kate," Jason pointed out.

  I didn't say anything in reply, I was too busy concentrating on breathing. If I lost track of that, I'd probably pass out. His hand slowly came up and brushed my hair off my face, then reached behind my head to slip the hair tie out. He ran his fingers through the strands distractedly for several seconds. I wasn't sure what the faraway look in his eyes meant. Was he having second thoughts? He was definitely thinking something through though. Some question or puzzle he needed to work out. I don't know if he solved it, but he came to a conclusion in the end, which brought his eyes back to mine.

  He held my gaze for a moment and then said, "I'm going to ask you do something and I don't want you to think too much about it. I just want you to go with it. To let go of everything you believe you need to think about, and just do it. OK?"

  I sucked in a shaky breath and just stared at him. What on earth could he ask me that he didn't want me to think about? What did it mean?

  "I don't understand," I finally admitted.

  "You don't need to," he shot back, a little more firmly than before. "You just need to trust me. To let me handle everything so you can simply enjoy."

  And now my heart had reached an epic speed inside my chest, it almost ached with the pace it was keeping. My throat was dry and even though I couldn't breathe properly, what I was sucking in scraped over the roughness in my neck and made me want to lick my lips and swallow futilely to ease the sensation. I knew it would only make me cough, and right now I couldn't allow that sort of distraction. Jason was all my mind would let me deal with.

  "O..OK," I stuttered instead, watching his lips tip up on the edges in a small smile. It wasn't so much as amused, I don't think, more like it was resigned. He wasn't making any sense at all.

  "OK," he said softly though, still running a hand through my hair. "Go in to your bedroom, Kate," he instructed. "Strip out of the robe and lie down on top of the bed on your back."

  What?

  "Wait for me. Don't touch yourself. Don't move. I will come to you. Understand?"

  No. Absolutely not.

  He waited patiently for me to answer. His eyes never leaving mine. Like before, I felt as though there was more to the question than the word understand implied. A weight to his query that meant something I was still not getting. Admittedly, I was confused. Why would he want me to strip naked and lie on the bed? And wait? And what was he thinking saying I couldn't touch myself? As if I'd do that with him in the next room and at any moment walking in on me on the bed.

  "Kate," he pushed. "Don't think. Just do."

  Oh. Right. OK. I nodded my head slowly, still holding his intense gaze.

  "I..I'll go then?" I suggested.

  "Don't touch yourself," he repeated, for some reason thinking that command was the most important of all.

  I frowned at him, but got up off the couch, suddenly on shaky legs, and walked back-stiff out of the room. I almost shut the door to my bedroom - I mean, I was about to strip bare - but he hadn't told me to do that. So I didn't. I also forced myself not to think, and just slipped my silky robe off my shoulders and let it glide to the floor. The feel of the delicate fabric floating across my skin sent a shiver down my spine.

  My eyes closed and I had to breathe through my nose to stop my body shuddering. For crying out loud, it was just a piece of material.

  I glanced back over my shoulder, but Jason hadn't followed me into the hall. I could hear him channel surfing again. My frown deepened. I stood there for at least a full minute, listening to the channels on the TV changing mid sentence, again and again and again. He wasn't coming. At least he wasn't leaving that settee just yet.

  I shook my head and returned my eyes to the bed. A soft glow of light came in from the hallway, but I hadn't switched any illumination on in my room. Jason hadn't told me to, and I was guessing this game - it seemed like a game and if I thought of it as a game it kind of made sense - was all about me following instructions clearly. No deviation, hence the repeated "Don't touch yourself" command.

  I huffed a breath of air out and climbed onto the bed. My knees felt cushioned by the duvet cover, my hands automatically curled into the soft, thick fabric beneath them. I stilled on all fours on top of my bed, unsure what to make of the fact that everything felt... more. More texture. More sensation. Just more.

  I continued my crawl up the bed, not wanting to be unprepared when Jason came in the room. And being prepared meant having carried out his instructions... to the letter. I rolled over onto my back and let out a slow, shaky breath as my skin came in contact with the cool surface of the linen. My butt wiggled involuntarily, as though trying to make a cavity in the bedspread to cradle itself within. But it was more than that, I couldn't quite grasp it yet, but my body wanted something else my mind wasn't prepared to acknowledge just yet.

  Although I could still hear the distorted sound of the changing channels on the TV from out in the lounge, in my room everything seemed unnaturally quiet. The lack of any ambient noise around me made me hyper-aware of my breathing; how it sawed out of my chest as though I'd just run a marathon, when all I'd done was walk from the living area to my bed.

  I tried to settle my respirations, all the while trying to slow down my heart rate, but my mind kept getting distracted by the scratch of the material beneath my skin. My fingers gripped the duvet cover, scrunching it up, and then flattening out, seeking friction, sensation, a positive response to a need I couldn't quite grasp.

  Minutes passed. My breathing became more controlled, but my heart rate was a lost cause. And my need to move was excruciating. Jason told me not to think, to just do. But my mind had stalled on his last instruction: "Don't touch yourself."

  I let a long, slow breath out through pursed lips. I felt so vulnerable lying here in the semi dark, completely nude. Waiting. And I felt rebellious because of it. How dare he order me around and expect me to do exactly as he demanded.

  I lift
ed my head and peered out into the hall. Still no Jason, but the TV was flicking through its channels every few seconds. How would he even know if I disobeyed him?

  I don't know why touching myself seemed to be the only form of disobedience I could conjure up. Surely getting up off the bed made more sense. Even getting dressed, turning on the light. Taking a bloody cold shower would do. But I dismissed all of those notions as inadequate. He wanted me to obey that last command. Why else did he repeat it?

  And, if I was brutally honest with myself - and there was no one here to see the blush that came at these next thoughts anyway - I was entirely too turned on. Who gets turned on by this sort of thing?

  Obviously me.

  I licked my lips, took one more quick glance out of the doorway, still seeing nothing there and hearing the TV channel surfing, so I slowly began to stroke a hot hand down my chest, pausing slightly at my breasts. My back rose, pressing my already rock hard nipples into my palms and I closed my eyes as my hands squeezed the flesh tight.

  Oh, dear Lord that felt good.

  My eyes sprang open to make sure Jason hadn't appeared or heard the small whimper that escaped my lips. But the TV would have been too loud and was still alternating channels, the abrupt interruption to sentences making it obvious he was still surfing out there.

  I smiled at my defiance of his instructions. Captain Jason Cain was not in charge of me.

  One hand travelled on reluctantly from my nipple, but there was a more urgent area needing my attention. Eyelids closed again, I let a long sigh out of my mouth, turning my head to the side as my fingers found their goal. My body shivered, then followed that up with a jerk as I started rolling my clit beneath my fingertip.

  I could still hear the channels changing from down the hallway, so I didn't bother to open my eyes and check the room again. I just concentrated on what my fingers were doing, on the wetness beginning to coat their tips, on the swelling and throbbing that had taken up residence between my thighs.