Wild, Wild Mother of the Bride (4 page)

"Beyond this door, there's no going back,” he whispered, pausing for another kiss. “If you want to leave, go now. Run to the inn, gather your clothes and sneak back upstairs."

She smiled, so radiant it nearly took his breath away. “Why, Master ... if I didn't know better, I'd say you were trying to get rid of me."

Jacob's hold on her body tightened. His fingernails bit into her flesh, but she didn't make as much as a gasp of protest.

"Never. That's what I'm tryin’ to tell you, sweetheart. You let me take you through those doors, really
take
you the way I want to, and I may never let you go again."

Eliza tilted her head and gave him another one of those deep, assessing gazes. He steeled himself for a sure rejection.

Marissa had told him all about her mother's history. She wasn't the type of woman who committed to anything longer than a month-by-month apartment lease. At forty-two, she'd never held a full-time job, never been married, never gotten engaged.

But she'd committed to Marissa. That meant she'd make an exception ... For love.

All right, so Jacob knew that was too much to hope for. Eliza didn't love him. But he'd settle for her attraction to him, or for her piqued curiosity. Anything that would get her through that door.

"Noted.” She motioned in the direction of the jailhouse, a grin playing around the corners of her luscious mouth. “So now I've agreed to be your prisoner, what are you waiting for?"

His cock gave another lurch, sending a shockwave of lust into his tight sac. Jacob growled, a primal sound from deep within his chest. He dug into his front pocket for the key to the jailhouse with one hand, while still propping Eliza up with the other.

After what seemed to him like an eternity, he managed to get the door unlocked. Toeing it open, he carried Eliza over the threshold, bride-style. The irony wasn't lost on him. Judging by the way the generous smile vanished as she clung to his shoulders, Eliza didn't miss the symbolism either.

Shadows draped every corner of the one-room jail. Jacob considered turning on the overhead lights, but he didn't want the harsh neon glare drawing unwanted attention to their late-night adventure. He'd enjoyed the thrill of showing off his prize to anyone who cared to watch, but right now, he wanted Eliza all to himself.

He'd helped build the place, and knew every hidden nook and cranny. Still, he moved slowly, avoiding the desk in the middle of the room and circling past the gun cabinet before coming to a stop in front of the lone ten-by-ten cell.

Eliza gave a low whistle. She reached out and ran her fingertips along the iron bars. “This is where you intend to keep me, huh?"

"For now."

He carried her inside the cell. Once in captivity, she lowered herself to the cement floor and walked to the far end of the small space, where she continued to marvel at the solid construct of the iron bars.

"This is not what I imagined at all."

"What did you imagine?” Jacob asked, walking to the gun cabinet. He didn't need to watch her to ensure she wouldn't leave. He trusted her to stay, just as much as she trusted him not to hurt her.

The thought excited him on an elemental level. The primal desires he'd so often hidden from his lovers stirred low in his belly. Eliza had walked into the lion's den, and she didn't show the slightest bit of apprehension at being caged.

But she would. Just as soon as he tied her to those bars and locked the door.

"Something ... bigger, I think. With more cells. More wanted posters. Maybe a little dirtier, too.” She laughed, and the sound practically lit up the inside of the room with its silvery twinkle.

Jacob opened the cabinet, shoved a fake Winchester rifle out of the way, and pulled out a thick coil of rope, his favorite soft leather flogger, a tapered candle, and a book of matches. He carried everything back to the cell.

"The jailhouse is the most recent addition to the village. It hasn't gotten much use."

She turned around as he approached, her eyes widening as she took in the items he carried. “You seem so ... prepared. You want me to believe I'm the inaugural guest?"

The door squeaked on its hinges as he slammed it closed. A matching iron key locked them both inside.

"Believe what you will. Though ‘guest’ might not be the word I'd use."

Eliza licked her lips and her nipples puckered to stiff little nubs. “Prisoner, then?"

Jacob kneeled, placed the candle on the floor and lit a match. After setting the wick aflame, he blew out the match, dropped it to the ground and rose, still holding the rope.

As he neared Eliza, he tugged the length of it between his hands. It stretched taut with a snap that echoed through the room. “Slave."

This time, she gasped. Her gaze darted to the front door and her eyes widened, as though seeing the unforgiving bars as proof of her captivity for the first time since being carried in here.

Firelight danced in her dark eyes. It caressed the delectable curve of her shoulders, nuzzled her breasts and danced in the flickering shadows between her legs. Shadows he ached to stroke and worship.

She dropped her dark lashes a fraction and drew her lower lip between her teeth. “We're not playing anymore, are we, Jacob?"

She'd dropped the title, but he wasn't about to correct her. Instead, he grabbed her wrist and wound some of the rope around it before doing the same to the other and yanking both hands above her head.

He thought this time she'd struggle for sure. Again she surprised him by leaning close as he worked and whispering in his ear, “I'm not afraid of you."

"Maybe you should be."

With his free hand, he landed an open-palmed smack on her slick mound.

She sucked in a breath, but the scent of her arousal intensified, filling the air with her unique musky aroma. Jacob fought the urge to kneel before her and bury his head between her legs one more time.

He finished tying her wrists and was about to order her to turn around, but found he didn't have to. He watched, open-mouthed, as she spun in a dainty, elegant motion on the tips of her toes, gripped the bars high above her head with both hands and shoved her ass high into the air.

"Show me,” she murmured, her sultry voice doing naughty, wonderful things to his mind, his chest, his groin. “Show me who you really are."

Any remaining shreds of misplaced hesitation fled Jacob's mind and body when she uttered the invitation she had to know he couldn't refuse. He kneeled and picked up the flogger in his right hand. With his left, he untied the knot holding up his trousers and let them fall to his ankles. He toed off his boots, then kicked away the material bunched around his feet, leaving him naked from the waist down.

God, his cock ached for her. The way she wiggled her ass, taunting him, caused flames of pure desire to lick at his balls.

The flogger swooshed through the air as he raised it, whistling when he brought it down. The first smack landed flush across her right buttock. She cried out, a soft, mewling whimper that had him lifting his hand again, bringing down a second perfect lash to caress her other cheek.

Her back arched. The slender line of her neck tensed and she tightened her grip on the bars. “More."

Oh, he'd give her more. So much more.

The next flurry of loving lashes landed everywhere—on her buttocks, the backs of her thighs, her hips. Each strike painted a thin pink stripe along her pale, fire-kissed skin. Soft sobs shook her shoulders, but there was no mistaking the fresh dewy wetness clinging to her pussy lips.

He'd never had such a willing submissive before. The few women he'd played with in this manner had been just that—playmates. Never had anyone taken his need as seriously as Eliza did.

The flogger ravaged her flesh, yet she welcomed each smack with a tiny lift of her ass. She stood on her toes, rising up to meet the soft leather.

Jacob's palm curled around his cock. He stroked the hard length, matching the rhythm to the torrent of lashes striking his lover.

The final smack licked between her legs, clinging to her soaked folds. Eliza cried out, a sharp, uncensored wail. She thrashed against her bonds, her body shuddering in never-ending ripples of ecstasy. The muscles in her ass bunched and tightened as she came. She sobbed Jacob's name and parted her thighs further, giving him a perfect glimpse of her slick nether lips, flushed a deep red and quivering in the midst of release.

Jacob's cock felt ready to explode. His balls nestled tightly against the base of his shaft, and he could barely walk for the ache in his groin. Thankfully, it only took two steps to close the distance between them.

His breathing came in harsh, ragged gasps. As he struggled to get the flurry of emotions swelling his cock, his chest and his mind under control, he placed an open palm along one of Eliza's beautiful, wounded buttocks. Heat seeped from her bruised flesh into his, traveling up his arm, searing him.

"That was...” Her voice trembled. She turned her head to glance over her shoulder. Tears glimmered on her long eyelashes and wet trails stained her cheeks with black streaks of runny makeup.

Cruel. Brutal. Selfish.

A thousand such words flittered through Jacob's brain. He held his breath, waiting for her to finish the sentence.

"Perfect,” she said at last, before letting her forehead fall against the iron bars.

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Eliza had wanted to fuck. Pure and simple. When she'd ventured outside the safety of her inn room, she'd thought of nothing but assuaging the desperate need that had been building inside her since the day she'd met Jacob.

She'd never, in a million years, have dreamed that she wouldn't
need
to fuck the man who'd dominated her fantasies in order to find deeper fulfillment than she'd ever known. So much for age bringing wisdom. Jacob was twelve years younger, yet he seemed to know exactly what she lacked. What no other man had ever thought of giving her.

The gift of pain, mingled with so much pleasure she thought she'd die from it.

"P-please,” she whispered through parched lips, “I want you. All of you."

Jacob's open palm caressed her burning flesh. His touch felt like a brand, a promise and a vow all rolled into one. She needed him. Wanted him. Craved him with every last needy cell in her trembling body.

It didn't matter that she'd just come hard enough to set off an earthquake. She hadn't had nearly enough of Jacob's unique type of pleasure.

She understood now that she didn't need to fuck Jacob to find more satisfaction than she'd ever thought possible. But God, she feared if he didn't shove his cock in her soon, she'd tear apart at the seams.

Gratification was no longer enough. The headlong rush toward orgasm and its glorious achievement was no longer enough. She needed something else, something more important than both.

Jacob
.

"Eliza,” he whispered, and there was so much reverence, tenderness and awe in his voice it made her chest ache.

"Yes. Yes, yes, yes.” She repeated the word like a mantra, urging him on with a slow undulation of her hips. Each circular motion made her tender flesh scrape against his broad palm, sending another jolt of pain through her body. Each throbbing ache melded with her pounding arousal, causing her pussy to clench and unclench in a silent plea for attention.

Jacob thrust his hips forward and the tip of his cock nestled inside her soaked folds. She nearly sobbed again at the feel of his thick shaft parting her tender, lash-whipped pussy lips.

Eliza ground her hips, curled her belly, undulated her spine. She stretched as far as the bonds would allow, all in a desperate attempt to force Jacob to bury his thick shaft inside her sorely neglected cunt.

"So beautiful,” he murmured. “So perfect for me."

"Yours,” she managed to grind out between gritted teeth. “All yours."

She'd never even considered saying those words before. In the past, men flew through her life, never staying long enough to make an impression. All except for Marissa's father, but Eliza had been young and foolish then. But she'd learned what she needed to—that giving her heart to another meant ending up alone, drowning in agony. Even now, all these years later, she vividly remembered sitting on the tile floor of her bathroom, staring at a blue stick, vowing never to make that mistake again.

She'd only loved one person since then. Marissa. And now, the night before she was to entrust her precious daughter into the arms of her future husband, Eliza was learning there was room inside her for a wealth of emotions she hadn't allowed herself to experience in much too long.

It took one dominant man and the flick of his talented wrist to make her realize what she'd been missing.

Jacob pushed inside her. She moaned, and the reverberation bounced off the walls, sounding more like a low, endless howl. She barely even recognized her own voice.

She took him to the hilt, welcoming every inch of his long, thick cock inside her channel. Jacob gripped her hips and moved in slow, gentle glides. So careful not to hurt her. So tender.

She wanted to be fucked hard, rough and fast, but he slid in with more patience than she'd have guessed him capable of. She heard his low grunts, though, and the gritting of his teeth that told her it took every ounce of willpower he possessed to hold back from driving into her with harsh, deep strokes.

Her forehead pressed into the cold bars. The rope chafed her wrists. And yet she felt nothing but the torrent of bliss spreading from her cunt to the rest of her body. Pleasure built deep in her core with every thrust. She met him glide for glide, her aching buttocks slapping his stomach each time he drove the length of his cock home.

She lost herself in the pleasure. With each thrust, he brought her closer to another magnificent orgasm. She blazed toward it, wanting this to last forever and yet craving the potent rush of release.

His release
, she realized with a start. Suddenly, Jacob's orgasm was more important than her own. He'd given her so much. She wanted him to take pleasure in her body, to find his ecstasy and share it with her.