Body Contact (20 page)

“Let me go.”

“No. I can't. Oliver wants this, and I do what he wants. He'll love the way you look now, with your nipples poking against your shirt,” she whispered. “I know he'll like it even better when we get that shirt off of you. Did you know there are some women who can come just from breast stimulation—when they're really hot. We'll find out if you're one of them. Or you can touch yourself while
I stroke your breasts. Making yourself come the first time has its advantages. Then I'll be able to see what you like. And I can do it for you later.”

Maddy whimpered in fear and frustration and tried to struggle. But she didn't have the strength, didn't even know what she wanted any more. Volcanic pressure was building inside her. Pressure that must find release—one way or the other.

But God, not like this. Not like this!

She tried to push herself up, tried to escape. But Calista shoved her roughly back onto the chaise—just as an icy voice cut through the fog in her brain. “What the hell is going on?”

It was Jack. Jack had come back. She croaked his name like a prayer of thanksgiving.

He repeated his question.

She heard someone else speaking. Calista. “I just gave her something to…you know…help her relax.”

“Relax. Is that what you call it?” Jack snapped.

Reynard was speaking now. “You didn't have my permission to give her anything,” he said, emphasizing every word as if he were talking to a stupid child.

Calista said something Maddy couldn't catch.

Then Jack was beside her, his palm against her cheek. “You're going to be okay,” he murmured.

She stared up at him, ashamed and confused. “I feel…” Her voice trailed off. She didn't want to tell him she felt like her blood was on fire. Not in front of these other two people.

Calista and Reynard were talking again. Reynard sounded angry. But she knew he was lying. He'd told Calista to do this—hadn't he? Or had that been the lie? Calista sounded like a little girl who'd been naughty—but she knew her father wasn't really going to punish her.

Jack's voice cut through the conversation again, and
she focused on him like a drowning swimmer clamping desperate hands around a lifeline. “Okay, I'm taking her out of here now. And you'd better tell me where the two of us can have some real privacy. I mean a room with no damn recording equipment!”

The other voices were just a dim buzz in the background. But when Jack spoke, she heard him clearly. “She and I are going to be alone for as long as she needs me. And if anybody barges in, I'm going to kill them, got that?”

She didn't hear the answer. She only felt Jack slip one arm under her shoulders, the other under her hips. Lifting her gently, he stood and cradled her against his body.

She turned toward him, helpless to keep from pressing her aching breasts against his chest. God, it felt good. So good. But she needed more.

“It's okay, baby. You're going to be all right,” he rasped, then turned and strode from the patio.

She kept her eyes squeezed shut and her face against his shoulder, trying to block out everything besides him as he carried her out of the sunshine and into the building.

Once she heard him curse. And once he snarled, “Get out of my way.”

She didn't know how long she was in his arms, but some time later he set her down on a wide bed.

The room around her was shadowy, and she knew the light was dim. She also knew her vision was fuzzy.

But that didn't matter. Nothing mattered but what she needed from Jack. Desperately. Now.

She reached for him, tried to pull him on top of her. But he loosened her clutching fingers.

“Let me lock the door.”

“Please,” she moaned.

Seconds later, he was with her on the bed, telling her
he was sorry, telling her that he never should have left her alone with Calista.

“Just…just…” Beyond desperation now, she grabbed his hand, pressed it to the throbbing place between her legs, rocking frantically against the pressure of his palm while she stroked her own breasts through her T-shirt and bra, finding her nipples, pulling and twisting at them.

She came then, in wave after wave of sensation that jolted through her like a freight train that had jumped the rails.

For long moments she could only ride the pounding rush of feeling. Then the shock wave finally subsided, and she pressed her face against Jack's shirt and started to sob.

“I…I…don't want you to see me like this,” she gasped between sobs.

“It's okay. You're okay,” he murmured, stroking her back and shoulders.

“No…I'm not okay…I need more…” she sobbed out. “I can feel it. Inside me. It's starting to build up again. Oh God, Jack, I don't want this.”

“It's all right. I'll take care of you.”

“And I'll never be able to look you in the eye again,” she answered, keeping her face buried because she couldn't bear to look at him now.

“That's crazy talk. You didn't do this,” he said, his voice fierce. “It's not your fault.”

“I'm a mess.”

“Shhhh,” he soothed, kissing her cheek. Lifting her face so he could kiss her wet eyelids as well.

She clung to him because there was nothing else she could do now—because she needed him more than she could imagine needing any man.

“It's okay. Baby, I'll take care of you,” he crooned.

“I need…”

“Anything. Just tell me.”

She pushed herself up, pulled her shirt over her head, then yanked up her bra without bothering to take it off. “Your hands on me. Oh God, I need your hands on me. Right now.”

He lay down beside her, gathered her to him, his hands stroking her swollen breasts, caressing her aching nipples. She arched into the caress, then rolled on top of him and found that he was hard. With a sob she pressed her sex to the rigid shaft, then began to move her hips, stroking her throbbing center against his erection, rubbing frantically to produce the friction she needed while he continued to play with her breasts.

The orgasm took her on a gasp, sending her spinning out of control and into some alternate universe where the only thing that mattered was release.

When it was over, his hands soothed over her back, then snapped the catch on her bra and removed it.

“Better?” he asked urgently as he lowered her to the bed.

Lord, the poor man probably wanted to escape. She lay back, breathing hard, staring up at him. She was wearing only her shorts and panties, but they felt too tight for her heated skin. The physical sensation against her flesh was intolerable. Reaching for the elastic waistband of her shorts, she pulled them off along with her panties so that she was lying naked on the bed. She wanted to hide, to disappear. She didn't want to be the person this was happening to.

But there was no choice. No choice at all. And the only thing she thanked God for was that Jack was with her. Because the idea of being like this with Calista and Reynard made her almost physically ill.

“She gave me something that made me this way. Something in my tea.”

“I know, baby. I'm so sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? You didn't do anything.”

“Except leave you in her clutches,” he growled.

She rolled her head against his shoulder. “Hold me.”

“Anything. Just tell me what you need.”

“I'm okay now. Sort of okay. I know it's going to sink its teeth into me again. I can feel it. Crouching like his panther. Ready to spring at me.”

His lips stroked against her hair, slid to her mouth.

“Jack, take off your clothes. Maybe this will seem more normal if you're naked too.”

“Okay.” He stood, tugged his shirt over his head. Then unzipped his fly. His slacks and briefs came off together, leaving him naked and aroused, his penis jutting toward her.

“This is making you hot,” she murmured.

“I'm sorry. I can't help it.”

“Don't apologize. I'd rather you be hot too.” The observation ended with a giggle that she knew could easily escalate to peals of hysteria. She struggled to contain the laughter, then stopped worrying about it as another wave of heat started building.

“It's going to hit me again,” she said in a shaky voice. “Please, come back. Please.”

“I'm right here. For as long as you need me.”

“I feel so naked,” she said, and that struck her again as funny. She was still laughing as Jack pulled down the covers, eased them under her, then pulled the sheet up again so that it covered her body.

Slipping into bed beside her, he held her gently in his arms, giving soft kisses on her cheeks, her neck, the tops of her breasts.

“Gentle isn't going to do it,” she gasped, dragging his hand to the juncture of her legs and pressing against him. She sighed as two of his fingers slipped into the hot, wet folds of her pulsing sex.

The need built quickly—taking her by storm.

She anchored her hands to his shoulders, feeling his powerful muscles flex. Eyes closed, she clenched her legs around his fingers, rocking again, wringing everything she could from the friction he was providing.

What he was doing felt exquisite. When he angled his hand to give her maximum internal and external stimulation, she cried out with the pleasure of it. Her body contracted, then exploded, sending more orgasmic shock waves through her system.

He stayed with her until the end, feeding the sensations with his knowing caresses.

When it was over, she flopped back against the pillows, breathing hard.

“Better?”

“For now.”

 

J
ACK ROLLED TO HIS SIDE
, looking down at Maddy. He was so damn angry that he could barely keep from pulling his clothes on, striding down the hall and wringing the neck of the skinny bitch who had done this.

Maddy licked her lips, and he instantly tuned in to the tiny movement.

“Are you thirsty?”

She gave a small nod.

“I'll get you some water.”

“You don't have to do anything…I mean…anything else. I can do it.”

She pushed herself up, looking suddenly flushed.

“Let me,” he insisted, wanting to do as much for her as he could, and at the same time needing some breathing space.

“Will you be okay by yourself?”

“Yes.”

Taking her at her word, he swung his legs over the side
of the bed and strode toward another door, which he assumed would lead to a bathroom. It did.

He stood in front of the long counter with its double sinks, trying to control the tumult of emotions raging inside him.

Deliberately, he turned on the water, letting it run cold while he focused on breathing steadily in and out. When he'd come back and found her lying on the chaise longue, looking like someone had dosed her up with a combination of uppers and downers, a bolt of panic had shot through him.

Jesus!

Coping with the scared, aroused look on her face had been bad enough. Then he'd focused on the bitch leaning over her, and a red haze had dropped over his vision. He'd known that he had to get her out of there—or beat somebody to a pulp. Calista or Reynard. Or both of them.

And at the same time, he'd known that beating Reynard up wasn't going to do Maddy any good. Looking back on that supercharged few minutes, he realized that he could have gotten them both killed by his heavy-handed tactics. But he hadn't been thinking about that at the time. He'd only been thinking about getting her out of there—to somewhere private and safe. Where he could give her what she so obviously needed.

And now here they were in this room—in the main house of all damn places. If Reynard wanted to, he could break down the door. But so far, so good.

Maybe Reynard knew he had gone too far. Maybe he was afraid he'd killed the deal.

Still, any way you looked at it, they were in trouble. You didn't defy a man like Reynard and not pay the consequences.

But he'd worry about consequences later. Right now he
had to take care of Maddy. Because he was pretty sure she wasn't over the effects of that drug.

He filled a tumbler with water. Then schooled his features into calmer lines as he came back to the bedroom.

Maddy had propped herself up against a couple of pillows. Reaching for the glass, she took several huge gulps.

“More?”

“No. Thanks,” she answered politely, handing him back the glass. He set it down on the nightstand, then glanced around for the first time. They were in a large, sumptuous bedroom, furnished with priceless antiques. It was not unlike the room where they'd first made love, he thought, noting the irony.

When he saw that he'd set down the wet glass on a very expensive table, he shrugged.

Maddy followed his gaze. “You're going to make a ring,” she murmured.

“Too damn bad.” He peered at her, trying to assess her condition. Never mind his own arousal. That was just a side issue. “Are you…okay?”

“Sort of.” She swallowed. “It's…um…still there. I can feel it. Waiting for me. But the edge is off. Well, not the edge. I guess what I mean is that I'm feeling more like I've got some control. Like I can use it—instead of being used by it.” She tipped her face toward his. “Do you understand what I mean?”

“Yeah. Maybe. I'd just like to know what the hell she gave you.”

Maddy slid back down to a prone position, watching him intently, and he realized he was standing there with his cock jutting out like a telephone pole.

He glanced down, then up again in time to see a silly grin spread across her face. She giggled. “If you think about it, you realize guys look funny when they're hot.”

“Thanks.”

“I was thinking about that yesterday,” she went on garrulously. “On our walk. I wouldn't want something thick and hard sticking out in front of me every time I got turned on.”

“Um-hum.”