Make Me Scream (9 page)

Jamie moaned, her hips bucking against his shoulder, her teeth nipping at his erection.

He found her clit, now swollen from its shield, and fastened his teeth around it, drawing it into his mouth and sucking. As expected, she gasped and arched her hips. He plunged the vibrator deep within her, flicking the nub with the tip of his tongue while he moved the heated phallus in and out in a languorous rhythm.

Jamie screamed, her cum rushing out to wash the vibrator and his hand.

Deftly he switched positions, his mouth firmly fastened on her, his tongue buried deeply within her, licking her slick walls, while the vibrator worked its magic on her clit, bringing her to another screaming release.

She gently bit down on his cock, sucking him deeper. It fueled his excitement, took his breath.

But he didn’t want to come in her mouth. It had been too long to settle for second best. He wanted to be buried deep within her tight pussy.

He stood on shaky legs and scooped her up from the couch. As soon as her legs came around his waist, he flexed his hips, burying himself to the hilt in her wet warmth.

Staggering, he walked toward his bedroom. Jamie came twice more before he lowered her to the mattress. Then it was his turn.

It was his new personal best.

“I
should go home.” Jamie stretched and smiled against the pillow at the feel of Devon’s renewed erection nudging her hip.

“Mmm,” he said, heating the skin on her shoulder. “Not yet.”

Rolling over, she held him close and kissed his temple then sighed. “It’s getting late. I really should go.” She sat up, pulling the top sheet with her.

“Wait.” He scooted across the mattress and stood. “I’ll walk you home.”

Transfixed, she stared at his still inspiring package. What was the hurry? It wasn’t like she really had anything to rush back to or do.

She blinked, drawing back to her original plan. No. She had to go home. When she’d walked away from her life with Fred, she’d vowed not to get involved with another man until the whole Fred debacle was over and done. Besides, it was past time she learned to stand on her own two feet and not depend on anyone else. A sigh threatened to escape when she looked at the broad capable shoulders before her. It would be so easy to let Devon help…

“You know,” he said, pulling up his boxers and reaching for a shirt from the pile next to the bed, “I usually enjoy being stared at. Especially by a hot babe like you. But somehow I get the impression lust isn’t what’s on your mind.”

Their gazes met.

Dang. He was good. Too good to get involved in the mess that was currently her life.

Clutching the sheet to her, she backed toward the bedroom door. “I, ah, was just thinking about everything I had to do. You don’t have to walk me back. It’s not that far, just across the courtyard.”

He paused and then continued pulling the T-shirt over his head. “Not a problem. Just thinking about stuff to do, huh?”

She nodded and stepped into the little hall connecting his room to the kitchen and bath.

He was right behind her.

“’Cause, I thought maybe you were thinking about what’s his face. Fred.”

His name hung like acid rain in the silence of the apartment.

Dang. She was just such a coward. She was running again. Running from Devon. Running from the way he made her feel. But what choice did she really have? If Fred found her, she could be putting Devon in danger, and that wasn’t fair.

Scooping up her clothes along the way, she turned toward the bathroom. At the door, she turned to face him. “I’m not lying to you, Devon. I do have things I need to do. And I have my own apartment, and that’s where I need to go. I’ll be fine.”

He stopped her from closing the door by placing his palm on the edge. “Can you look me in the eye and tell me this has nothing to do with Fred?”

Clutching her side of the door, she took a deep breath. “I could, but I won’t. You’re going to believe what you want to believe.”

He released the door, allowing her to close it just in time to hide the tears she blinked away.

Maybe Fred had ruined her life. Living with him had been torture, and the fear was alive and well, thanks to his relentless pursuit. The question was, what was she going to do about it?

After pulling her clothes on and shoving her feet into her sandals, she took a cursory look in the mirror over the sink.

A blond stranger with terrified eyes looked back at her. Blond, terrified and…She leaned closer. And with one boob noticeably smaller than the other. Crap. Where was the errant gel blob?

Devon kicked the adult toys under his sofa with considerably more force than was necessary.

Damn. What was his problem? It wasn’t like he didn’t have stuff to do. The new catalogs were due to come out soon, and he still had a good hundred items to describe.

Thoughts of his time with Jamie filled his mind. The sex was so damned good, so right. And, the fact was, he wasn’t ready for it to end. But he wouldn’t beg.

Jamie walked into the room, the sheet clutched in front of her like a shield. Shit, what did she think he was going to do, strip her and have his wicked way with her against her will?

She bent, looking for something. He’d offer to help, but the sight of her firm, tan legs short-circuited his brain for a few seconds.

In his mind, he saw himself walking over and flipping up the sheet, dragging her panties down and off. He’d spread her legs wide, gripping the smooth ass cheeks, and plunge into her hot, honeyed pussy.

She’d scream in ecstasy, pulling his hands around to play with her tits.

He blinked and frowned. Her tits…her tits. What was it about them that tugged at his memory, buzzing around his sex-fogged brain like an irritating gnat?

She chose that moment to wrap the damn sheet around her like a mummy, drawing his attention back from whatever it was he’d been thinking.

What the hell was she doing under there? He watched her gyrations for a few seconds. “Is there something I can help you with?”

She jumped at his question, looking damn guilty, in his opinion.

“No! No,” she repeated in a softer voice. “I’m fine. I just realized my top was twisted.” She folded the sheet and laid it on the arm of the sofa and then arched her eyebrow. “Or would you like me to put it back on the bed? I can help you make it before I go, if you want. The bed, I mean. I can help you make the bed.”

He bit back a grin, watching the color rise up her neck to her cheeks. “No, that’s okay. I can do it later.”

Her shoulders slumped in obvious relief, and he told himself not to take it personally. Unfortunately he’d never been very good at listening to advice.

He strode to the door and grabbed Killer’s leash from the hat rack. “Let me get Killer, and we’ll walk you home.”

“I told you, that’s really not necessary.” She hovered by the couch, her body language telling him she wouldn’t argue if he just did it.

With a stay gesture that always worked with Killer and Petunia, he hurried to the spare room and took his dog out of the kennel. When they returned to the living room, Jamie was gone.

“C’mon,” he said, clicking the leash to the dog’s collar. “At least you can get rid of your piss. Nouns are like that. It’s the verbs that get to you.”

H
eart thundering in her ears, Jamie power-walked across the deserted courtyard. Eyes wide, she scanned the area constantly, jumping at every shadow.

It had been Fred she saw on the beach. She knew it. Didn’t she?

After jiggling her key in the old lock, she threw her shoulder against the door and half fell into her darkened apartment.

A little whimper of fear escaped her. She banged the door shut and threw the bolt home while her other shaking hand frantically felt for the light switch.

The light came on, illuminating the bright decor to a blinding level. As soon as her eyes adjusted, she glanced around. Everything was the same as she’d left it. There was the basket of laundry and her beach sandals.

She forced a laugh at her panicked state and put her groceries in the fridge. But, just to be on the cautious side, she checked all the window and door locks, looked in all the closets and under her bed before going into the bathroom. Maybe a nice hot shower would help her sleep.

He stepped from the shadows and watched as Jamie’s apartment blazed with light. Little fool. He counted to ten, but it didn’t help his frustration. Why didn’t she realize she belonged to him and stop her stupid little games.

His cock stirred when her bathroom light filtered through the darkened bedroom to the window where he stood, hidden in the shadows. Instant recall of her body, wet and slick in all the right places, raced through his mind.

He stepped back, deeper into the shadow between the units. A group was congregating around the fire again tonight. It wouldn’t do for any of the testosterone-laden tenants to see him. Ditto for the old lady and her bloodthirsty dog.

He rubbed his calf, still tender from the rottweiler’s nip the day before. He’d take care of the damn dog.

Then he’d find Jamie and convince her he knew what they needed.

They belonged together.

Jamie clutched her towel tighter and edged along the wall toward the side window.

“Stupid,” she whispered. “You’re being stupid, jumping at shadows.” With slow, deliberate movements, she reached out and tugged down the cord, releasing the blind.

The metal sound echoed in the room as the blind unfurled to land with a clang on the sill.

She edged around the corner until she came to the window facing the courtyard.

The amber glow from the fire pit cast her neighbors in a glow, bronzing their buff bodies.

She spotted Todd by the edge of the group and wondered again about his sister and what he would do if he ever caught up with the man who had ruined both of their lives.

The man she recognized as Drew sauntered across the space and paused to speak to Todd before bending to extract a beer from the cooler by his feet.

Before they spotted her, she let the second blind down and leaned against the cool wall. Whew! She grinned. Her friends back home would be drooling at the sight of her neighbors.

Sobering, the thought hit her. She would probably never see any of her friends again, thanks to Fred. She tucked the towel more securely. At least she knew her friends were safe now. She’d led Fred away from them when she allowed him to chase her far away.

So far away that her old life seemed more like a dream than her past.

Devon logged off and sat back with a satisfied sigh. He’d just sent the latest batch of catalog copy to the Ballbreaker editor. His check should arrive within the next week or so.

He picked up the Float Like a Butterfly, Sting Like a Bee and flipped its tiny stinger with the tip of his index finger, careful to avoid the activation button.

All sorts of hot, raunchy ideas of how he could utilize the innocuous-looking gel insect on Jamie had him shifting in his chair.

He put the bee next to his computer and adjusted his shorts to accommodate his erection; then he flopped back in his chair.

Sex with Jamie was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. That was the only reason he wanted to howl at the moon and crawl to her, begging for more.

He stood and turned off the desk lamp then walked to start picking up the clutter they’d left behind in his living room.

A knock echoed through the quiet apartment, Killer’s bark immediately following as he pranced toward the door.

“Damnit, if that’s someone wanting an apartment at this time of night, I’m going to kick their ass.”

Killer growled his agreement as Devon swung open the door.

A brown cardboard box rested on the doormat. A glance confirmed it was from the Talk Dirty To Me company and probably included the latest models of dildos for the new line the editor told him about last week.

He sighed and picked up the box, absently tapping his finger on its side. The idea of working anymore tonight held no appeal. Still, the sooner he wrote the copy and turned it in, the sooner he’d get another check.

He walked back in, not stopping until he reached the kitchen, where he rummaged around for a knife.

He pulled the first dildo from the box, matching the packing slip with the numbers on the clear wrapper, and began laughing.

Inspiration struck.

Jamie had just finished applying coconut-scented lotion and pulled her nightshirt over her head when a knock sounded, rattling her door.

“Jamie? You up?”

A peek through the peephole confirmed the identity of her late-night visitor.

After struggling a few seconds with the door, she swung it open.

Devon stood smiling at her, a clear plastic container of strawberries in one hand and what looked like a cake box in the other.

“Hi! I’m up.” She sniffed at the box, which definitely held some kind of cake, and tried not to look at what else was obviously up.

“Thought maybe we’d have a bedtime snack.” He walked past her to set the boxes on the table and then came back to plant a smacking kiss on her forehead before shutting the door. “I brought angel-food-and-strawberry surprise.”

“What’s the surprise about angel food and strawberries?” She watched him slice the cake and place it on mismatched plates from the kitchen and then spoon the strawberries on top.

What could only be described as a devilish grin flashed her way, his eyes sparkling.

He reached for the hem of her nightshirt. “Ah-ah-ah. We wouldn’t want to get your nice, clean shirt sticky and dirty.”

“Wait!” She clutched her shirt to her chest and dove for the lights. “Let’s light candles.” At his look of confusion, she hurried on. “It’s much more romantic and also saves money on the power bill.” Lame, so lame.

But by the look on his face when she returned from lighting a few candles, he didn’t seem to notice.

With a flourish, he grasped the hem of her shirt and drew it up and over her head and then tossed it onto the couch. He waggled his eyebrows. “I’ve got whipped cream, but you have to get naked if you want any.”

Ever since catching sight of his erection as he walked in her door, she’d been wanting to be naked, so it was no hardship.

Hooking her fingers in the string sides of her thong, she shimmied out of her panties and tossed them aside.

“Your turn,” she said in a voice turned husky with desire.

His grin could only be described as weird. He made a big production of unzipping his pants.

The tip of his erection was the darkest purple she’d ever seen.

She frowned, but before she could comment, he pulled it out—and off!

“Check it out,” he said with an eagerness that was contagious. “First you push up on the balls, like this, while you squeeze, and voilà!”

Streams of what she hoped was whipped cream spurted from the end of the phallus, forming a frothy pile to cover the strawberries.

Her shrieks of laughter bounced from the old walls, along with his deeper, rumbling chuckles.

Gradually their laughter subsided, replaced by an awareness that heated the room, altering their breathing.

“This,” he said, indicating the purple penis, “is from the new kitchen gadget line. It’s, um, not for internal use.”

“Good to know.” She stood looking into his eyes and wondered if she was going to have to make the first move. Assuming any move was made.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.

“And you,” she said, stepping close to tug his shirt from his waistband, “are way overdressed.” She pulled his shirt over his head and let it drop.

His hand on hers stopped the descent of his pants. “If I take these off, it will be over too soon.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles, pulling her toward the table. “Climb up.” He removed the plates of cake and helped her stretch out on the cool tabletop. “Let’s play.”

He shook the dildo, little droplets of whipped cream flying to spatter her face, eliciting a fresh burst of giggles.

He silenced her with a kiss, dragging his teeth on her lower lip before straightening. “Don’t laugh, woman. I’m creating a masterpiece.”

Amid lots of squirming and giggling, he managed to finally write his name, in whipped cream, across her flat, tanned tummy.

Taking a plump strawberry, he bit off the tip, allowing the juice to trickle across her breast and down her rib cage. With the piece of fruit, he followed the lines of his name, applying pressure to ensure the juice escaped, coating her torso in its sticky sweetness.

He drew happy faces around each breast, topping the puckered nipples with a dollop of cream, and then licked them clean.

“Devon,” she breathed his name with a hitch in her voice, causing his breath to lodge in his chest for a moment.

No one had ever called his name during sex or any act of passion.

“Shhh,” he said, shucking his pants and climbing up beside her, hoping the old table would hold their combined weight. “Let’s play nice and get you all cleaned up.”

His tongue followed the flowing script of whipped cream and strawberry juice, lapping at the combined sweetness of the concoction and her skin.

Beneath his steadying hand, Jamie squirmed, the heat of his palm filling her with a different kind of warmth.

Their breathing sounded unnaturally loud in the quiet apartment.

She reached for him.

The spell was broken as the sound of shattering glass echoed from the walls.