A Touch of Confidence (13 page)

It was when they climbed into bed that night, sleeping together for the first time, that Jack knew he was right. She wrapped herself around his back, once again offering him her comfort and security, and he closed his eyes, expecting to see Big Jack’s lifeless face. Instead he felt only calm.

Moments before he slipped into dreamless oblivion, lines from a D. H. Lawrence novel danced through his head.

“All hopes of eternity and all gain from the past he would have given to have her there, to be wrapped warm with him in one blanket, and sleep, only sleep. It seemed the sleep with the woman in his arms was the only necessity
.
”

Indeed, sleep with Claire was all he needed right now.

Chapter Eight

Four weeks made a huge difference to Jack’s mood
and life. He no longer felt quite so raw or so torn apart. He’d begun to come to terms with his grandfather’s death, although he doubted he’d ever grow accustomed to missing him.

What hurt the most was the permanence of death. Sure, he’d missed Anthony while he’d been in Perth. But he’d known his brother would come back. He’d also known he could pick up the phone and talk to him whenever the urge struck.

His grandfather was gone forever. And wherever he was now, there were no phone lines. There was no way of contacting him. None at all.

Thank God for Claire over these past few weeks. A mere month ago he hadn’t even known her, and now she’d become his rock. His voice of reason. His calm. Even while she and her sisters had worked their hands to the bone to prepare their new store for the grand opening, she’d had all the time in the world for him.

They’d spent hours together discussing his future. She’d helped him put his work in perspective, decide what path to take and determine what was most important in his life.

“So I was over at Wilson Property Management offices today,” he told her now.

Claire looked up in surprise. She held the knife she’d been chopping carrots with. “You were?”

“Anthony asked me to drop by. Said he needed to discuss some things with me.”

“How did it feel, going back there?”

Since he’d been back at school for the last few weeks, he hadn’t had time to pop into the office. “Okay. I guess I’d gotten used to being in the office without the old man while he was in the hospital, so his absence today didn’t hit me as hard as I thought it would.”

“That’s good. Progress even.” She chopped another carrot before lifting a board full of diced veggies and tossing them in a pot.

Jack enjoyed spending his evenings at Claire’s place. Loved her cooking. She’d made him several meals now, each one more delicious than the last. He’d tried to repay her in kind, but one look at her face after she’d tasted his spaghetti bolognaise, and they’d come to a mutual decision that she’d do the cooking thereafter.

“So what did Anthony want?”

“To tell me what he’d found while going through all the books and files.”

Claire added chicken pieces to the pot, covered it, checked the temperature, then gave Jack her full attention. “And what was that?”

“That my grandfather had a total of seventy-one properties on file. Each and every one of which he owned.”

Claire’s jaw dropped. “He what?”

“He owned them. All of them.”

“Seventy-one properties in Sydney?”

“Yep.”

“Their combined value must be staggering.”

“To say the least.”

“Are they all leased?”

“Most of them. About ten are still standing open.”

“Holy shit,” Claire said, pretty much mimicking his response earlier.

“Know what’s even more staggering?”

“I can’t think
anything
could be more staggering than that.”

“Just one thing. He left all of those properties to Anthony and me.”

Claire opened her mouth, then closed it again, as if at a loss for words. “Holy shit,” she uttered once more. “You’re rich.”

He laughed. “Very.” The irony of the situation was not lost to him. For so long he’d debated the idea of giving up teaching so he could finally earn enough money to buy his own property.

Now, when he’d finally decided that he needed job satisfaction more than he needed to buy his own place, he discovered he didn’t just own one property, he co-owned seventy-one of them.

“Is this going to affect your decision? About working in the business, I mean?”

Jack shook his head. “No. I considered it again today, but property management is not my dream. It doesn’t turn me on. I’m a teacher, Claire. It’s what I was always meant to do. What I love. I can’t give that up to follow my grandfather’s dream, and I think he’d be furious with me if I did.” It had taken heaps of soul searching before he’d come to a final decision about working in the business.

Heaps of soul searching, heaps of Claire-Jack time and heaps of in-depth discussions with Anthony.

They’d concluded that Anthony would take over the company
—
an idea that excited his brother no end. The first order of business had been hiring a secretary and an assistant property manager. Someone to take care of the paperwork and someone to help go through each property on the books and determine what needed to be done with it, if anything.

Claire’s smile shone from her eyes. “So I can count on you to keep citing the great playwrights to me?”

“At least until I run out of quotes.”

“Good. I’ve grown kind of fond of your soliloquies.” She walked over to him, took his cheeks in her hand and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I’m glad you didn’t give up on your dream, Jack. Your students would have missed you.”

“Not as much as I’d have missed them.” He caught her mouth in another kiss, one that lasted a lot longer. “Ah, I almost forgot. I found something while I was at the offices. Something I think you’ll be happy to see.”

“What is it?”

“Close your eyes. I’ll surprise you.”

Her lids fluttered closed.

“Now put your hands together in front of you.”

Immediately she cupped her hands, waiting for him to put something in them.

He grinned and pulled it from his pocket. But instead of placing it in Claire’s hands, he wrapped one end around her wrists, tying them together.

“What the…?” Her eyes flicked open in surprise. “My scarf?”

“Yep. You left it in the Rose Bay shop that first day, after you’d wrapped it around my shoulders to keep me warm.”

She laughed. “Didn’t do a very good job, now did it? It’s too insubstantial to provide any warmth.”

“It did a great job, believe me. Surrounding me with your scent didn’t just get me warm, it got me hot and horny.”

“Can you untie it now?” She held her arms up to him.

He shook his head. “Nope.”

“No?”

“Nope. See, that scarf is still getting me all hot and horny. And wrapped around your wrists like that, leaving you bound and helpless, it’s giving me all sorts of ideas.” He tugged on the other end of the scarf, walked to the opposite side of the table and tied the wisp of material to a chair.

“Really?” Claire gave him the evil eye. “You’re really doing this?” The scarf was long, but not long enough that Claire could stand upright. She was forced to lean over the table.

Jack walked back around to her, admiring the luscious curve of her ass in this position. He grew hard just contemplating everything he had in mind. “Oh, yeah, beautiful. We are really doing this.”

Claire snorted. “I’ve heard of barefoot, pregnant and in the kitchen, but tied to the kitchen table is a new concept for me.”

He leaned over her to nuzzle her cheek, making sure he caressed her ass with his erection in the process. He also pressed his weight down on her back, flattening her chest on the table. “I’m not just
tying
you to the kitchen table, Miss Jones.” His hands were on her sides, molding to the hourglass curves of her waist. “I plan to fuck you on top of it too.”

“Y-you do?” It wasn’t nerves or inhibitions that made Claire’s voice tremble. She’d lost all sense of shyness around him over the last few weeks. Every time they made love, and they made love a lot, Claire seemed to relax more and more about her body. In fact, last night she’d had no trouble flaunting it in front of him, dancing naked to his tuneless singing, making him half crazy with lust.

She’d given him a whole new view of the tango. A dirty
—
filthy actually
—
view that he couldn’t wait to grab another glimpse of.

No, the tremor in her voice was excitement. Pure and simple. The wash of goose bumps over her neck told him as much. As did her sudden sharp inhalation of breath. “I most certainly do.”

He slipped his hands beneath her belly, undoing the zip and button of her pants. Then ever so slowly, he tugged her pants over her hips, and down her legs, making good and sure to take her knickers too. He paused after exposing each inch of skin, stopping to admire her shape, her womanliness. Stopping to press tiny kisses to her bare skin and nip provocatively at her buttocks.

She moaned and clutched the far edge of the table with her bound hands, shimmying her hips, trying to get her pants off.

“Uh-uh.” He smacked her butt. Not hard, just enough to leave the slightest sting, and she gasped in response. “We do this on my time.”

He nuzzled the pink skin he’d just slapped before dropping to his knees, moving down her legs and paying attention to her thighs and the back of her knees. He took his sweet time, enjoying every inch of her, loving her response, her taste, her moans. Loving the way she trembled beneath his hands and lips, and begged him for more.

When at last the lower half of her torso was nude, free of pants and shoes and socks, he smacked her other buttock. Again, not too hard, just enough to leave a sting. A little pain always increased the pleasure.

“Spread ’em,” he demanded in a guttural voice, sounding not at all like himself.

She showed him the slightest hint of her wet, puffy pussy
and her puckered, pink hole.

“Wider.”

Her breath hissed from her, and she obeyed, letting him see exactly how aroused she was. Her pussy lips glinted beneath the kitchen light, wet from her juices.

He rubbed her buttock, easing the sting. “Much better,” he praised. Christ, she looked good enough to eat.

Jack grabbed handfuls of her buttocks, spread them as wide as he could, knelt behind her and helped himself to a taste of her sweet cream.

No, a taste would never do. He helped himself to as much of her as he could, licking her juices away, gorging himself on her ripe lips, pushing his tongue into her channel, seeking more of her nectar.

Claire shivered around him, begging him for more. And he gave it, dipping his finger inside her, wetting it and then gliding it back, from her pussy to her ass, until he found that puckered hole, and let his finger play to its heart content.

Tonight he would make Claire his
—
in every possible way. Starting with her pussy, then claiming her ass, and after, demanding her heart. She had his. Absolutely and completely. It was only fair she give him hers.

“Jack…” Her legs began to shake, and she pushed against his finger, twisting her hips. He gave her an inch, slipping it inside just past the first knuckle, and continuing to lick her pussy.

The tension rose in her. Her muscles flexed, relaxed then flexed again. Her knees locked together and her torso began to quiver.

Jack placed one last, chaste kiss on her delicious lips, and withdrew from her altogether, almost laughing when she swore viciously at him.

Almost laughing. But his cock ached like the devil and blood boiled in his veins and humor was the last thing on his mind.

“Damn it, Jack,” Claire groaned. “Don’t you dare stop. Not now.” She couldn’t believe he’d pulled away. Seriously, the man seemed to have orgasm radar. Soon as he sensed hers approaching, he backed off, leaving her stranded, so close to coming she wanted to scream, yet unable to reach her peak without him.

“Giving me orders, Miss Jones?” He must have taken a step back, because now she couldn’t feel any part of him.

“You bet I am,” she huffed. “Get back here right now.”

He smacked her on the ass, harder than before. It hurt like the devil, and reverberated all the way through her pussy and clit, like a red-hot wave of pain and pleasure. A fresh gush of liquid seeped from her channel.

“You should know by now, I don’t take orders too well.”

Claire considered swearing at him, but didn’t. He’d probably smack her again, and as tantalizing as the smacks were, it wasn’t his hand she wanted on her ass.

She tried a different tactic. “Please, Jack. I’m begging you. Don’t leave me hanging.” With any other man, she’d have been too proud to beg. Or too inhibited. But Claire had learned that Jack loved it. It inflamed his passion to greater heights. And when he was inflamed, he ensured she was too.

He rubbed her buttocks. “I won’t leave you hanging, Clairey. I swear it.” As though sealing his promise, he swiped his finger over her pussy, slipping it just between her lips as he did, and then dragging it back over her anus. “I love you too much to do that.”