Devil in the Details Page 2

  I smirked and slowed down. Jack tossed his head back and groaned, all but wanking himself.

  “Enough of that, Jack,” I commanded. “Hands on the headboard. Now.”

  “Fuck you,” he snapped back, but lifted his hands and pressed them to the wood of the headboard. Perhaps this time I wouldn’t give in and let him touch me, no matter how much either of us wanted it. “You’re killing me here.”

  Stepping out of my trousers, I folded them neatly and hung them over the arm of the recliner. Then I took off my sunglasses and set them on the tallboy. Turning back, I let my eyelids drop and, in a low voice, said, “If I were killing you, you wouldn’t even know it was happening.”

  Not the most erotic thing I could have said, but sometimes I had to remind Jack just who he was with, to see if this time, he really understood and realised I wasn’t good for him.

  All he did was suck in a sharp breath and shift his hips as if he was trying to get some pressure on his cock. “Please.”

  Not this time, then.

  Leaving my briefs and socks on, I kneeled on the end of the bed and gestured at one of Jack’s feet. He lifted it and I unlaced his shoe painstakingly slowly. Jack growled and his arms flexed as if keeping his hands on the headboard took a great effort. By the time both of his feet were bare, Jack was swearing at me, to which I just smiled as I moved up over him.

  “If you take much longer, this could be a solo affair, you realise,” he warned, when I very carefully began pulling his shirt the rest of the way out of his trousers.

  “Well, that would be disappointing, I suppose.” Concentrating on gently sliding buttons through holes was challenging since Jack kept pushing his hips up into my crotch as I straddled him. “However, I’m sure you’ll be ready to go again in fifteen minutes.”

  Jack cackled and started to reach for me. One stern look and he contritely put his hands back on the headboard. Which stymied me when I finished unbuttoning his shirt and realised he’d have to move them if I wanted to strip him completely. Yet, looking at him like this, under me, with his chest bared, blue shirt spread to either side and his arms up like he was surrendering, was incredibly distracting. I pushed the material off his shoulders as much as I could, letting my hands linger on his warm skin. Jack watched as I dragged my palms across his pecs and downwards. His belly trembled and his abs rippled. I drifted my fingers through the thin trail of dark hair that swirled around his navel and ran down into the waistband of his trousers.

  I had never been so entranced by a body before. Certainly none of the other men I’d had sex with had ever fascinated me as Jack did. Intercourse with anyone else had always been part of the job and aesthetics hadn’t meant as much as the reason why I was there. It had never been like that with Jack, though. Even before we’d had sex, I had felt drawn to this man who didn’t flinch from the name Ethan Blade. His voice, his sarcasm, his laughter, his skin, his hands, his—

  “Ethan?”

  His dark-brown eyes focused on me, the smirking and teasing replaced by an expression of almost pained tension. When he dipped his gaze to where my hand pressed against his abdomen, I understood his problem. Jack hadn’t said anything to me, but we’d been together enough for me to pick up on his reaction to how our skin tones looked side by side. He could lose himself for long periods watching his brown hand move over my white skin, or mine over him. If I let him go long enough, the intercourse afterwards was always hard and desperate, and scary at how vulnerable it seemed to make Jack.

  Vulnerable wasn’t what I needed. Wanted, perhaps, but needed? Not now. Hard and desperate, though . . .

  I leaned down, careful to keep our groins apart. Any more stimulation there wouldn’t help either of us keep on track, different though those tracks may be. The moment my lips touched the skin of his shoulder a lingering tension in my chest eased. Jack was familiar and warm and the way he turned his head to kiss my temple sent shivers down my spine. I breathed in deep and the scent of his clean skin filled my body. I weakened for a moment, nearly telling him to move his arms, to hold me, touch me. If I did, I’d never be able to leave again. So instead I occupied my mouth with tasting him, replenishing my memory of how smooth his skin was across his pecs, just the lightest smattering of hair and no disfiguring scars. Reminding myself how responsive his nipples were to my tongue, hardening with the slightest of flicks, and how his chest rumbled under my lips when I sucked. I made my way downwards, relishing every sound Jack made, every quiver in his body, every curse he snarled when he remembered he had to keep his hands on the headboard. Smirking, I gave him payback for all the times he’d tortured me with his tongue in my naval.

  “Fuck. Jesus. Shit!” Jack bucked, twisting in an effort to dislodge me. “Ethan!”

  Sitting back on my heels, I smiled sweetly at him. “Yes, Jack?”

  He glared at me. “Stop it, you crazy bastard.”

  “Hmm. Half right, Jack.” I traced a finger across the buckle of his belt. “Does this mean you don’t want . . .”

  “There’s only so long I’m going to keep my hands on this headboard, Blade. Get on with it.”

  “Since you asked so nicely.” Slowly, slowly, I undid his belt.

  Jack whimpered. “I won’t be responsible for what may happen.”

  “There you go, shifting blame again.” I lowered the zipper, careful of the hard obstruction under it. His response was unintelligible. I took pity on him and got his trousers down and off. The number of wet spots on his boxer-briefs lent credence to his complaints so I divested him of his underwear as well.

  Hard cock flopping up onto his belly, Jack let out a relieved whoosh of air. The tension left his thighs and they fell apart slightly, and his abdomen relaxed. A goofy grin spread across his face. “Thank you.”

  The sight of him so sillily happy broke something inside me, flooding me with heat and anxiety. It didn’t matter that he was naked and hard, only that I had made him smile at me like that. And that if I went through with my plan, there was a possibility I’d never see it again.

  “I’ve changed my mind.” The words were out of my mouth before I’d even fully realised the thought.

  He lost the grin that had set my heart alight. “What?”

  I crawled up his body and let myself melt into him. “Touch me. Hold me.”

  “Always.” Jack’s arms snapped down and around me, hands pressed to my back, big and hard and comforting. “You know you worry me sometimes.”

  Snuggling my face into the curve between shoulder and neck, I mumbled, “I do?”

  “Yeah. It’s just that I never know what you’re thinking. I mean, one moment you’re all hot and in charge, the next you get this sad look on your face and ask to be held.”

  I shivered. This was unusual. Jack didn’t normally talk so openly about such things. I’d had to dig to get the real story about what happened at the charity race dinner out of him on the Gold Coast. Jack’s jaw moved against the side of my head, as if he was about speak again, but he didn’t. His arms got even tighter though.

  “I’m all right,” I assured him, lying.

  The only thing holding me together right now was his arms. One look and my plan had been shattered. I could feel the chaos of uncertainty and doubt creeping into me, my body tensing in defence. So much of my life, so much of me, was dependant on trained instinct and being at least two and preferably three steps ahead of my targets just to stay alive and finish the job. I had no training, no weapons, no instincts to get me through this.

  Well, I had one instinct and I reached for it with every measure of my being.

  Jack rolled us over and pulled away so he could look at me properly, concern making him frown. Gently, he ran knuckles down my cheek. “Ethan, what’s wrong?”

  “Fuck me, Jack.” My cheeks flamed, but my cock surged even though it had been flagging. Jack had been right. There was a visceral satisfaction in saying it, and a reciprocal excitement in seeing the effect it had on Jack.

  His eyes went
wide and his hand stalled half way down my cheek. Then he smiled, that same delightedly stupid one he’d given me moments ago. “You said it.” Before I could chide him for narrating the obvious, he lunged down and kissed my nose, my cheek, my chin. “You’re blushing so hard. Christ, Blade, do you have any blood left in the lower half of your body to keep you hard?” His hand went questing for answers.

  I squirmed, desire starting to push aside the unwanted, terrifying emotions. “Jack.” Now, apparently it was my turn to whine, but even that urge fled as his hand dove inside my underwear and found my cock.

  “Yes. Yes, you do,” Jack answered himself, his fingers closing around me and stroking. “I find, old bean, that I’m of a mind to make you pay for all your teasing.”

  I chuckled at his atrociously bad British accent.

  Between kisses and bites to my neck and shoulders, Jack kept working my cock and said, “Another time, though. Jesus, I’m so fucking primed I might not even get inside you before I blow.”

  Before I could gather enough faculties to respond, Jack lurched up to his knees, tossed off his shirt and had my boxer-briefs down and cast aside with barely any help from me.

  Jack sat still for a long moment, looking up and down my body. He squeezed himself and groaned. “Yup. Another time.”

  Then he crawled across me, making sure there was a lot of skin contact as he opened the bedside table drawer and foraged for condom and lubricant. Successful, he slithered around until he lay directly on top of me, dropping the gear by the pillow while he kissed my neck and down my chest. Halfway down, he stopped, grabbed the lubricant, and continued.

  When I realised his destination, I reminded him, “Jack, I thought you were about to blow.”

  “We covered this earlier. Pay attention.” He lubricated his fingers and wormed his way between my legs. “I owe you something first.”

  His mouth was on me and his fingers were at my entrance before I could even think to protest. As often and strenuously as Jack said otherwise, I still felt it wasn’t fair that he fellate me as much as he did. My objections had weakened considerably over time and were reduced now to a few plaintive “Jacks” while my body arched into him and my fingers dug divots in his shoulders. He licked and sucked and the deep pulling sensation threaded from my groin up into my belly and lungs until I couldn’t breathe and my heart thudded impossibly loud. Then his finger breached me and I didn’t know which way to go, up into his mouth or down onto his hand. Jack solved the issue, as he always did, by synchronising his sucks and thrusts so all I had to do was shake in between them.

  When he worked a second, then third finger into me, I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed him on me, in me, all around me.

  “Jack.” I tugged on his arm. “Please, now.”

  His response was indecipherable around my cock, but his fingers curled inside me and I nearly came down his throat. He kept it up until I was a writhing, whimpering mess, unintelligible and lost to the sensations. Then he stopped right before I reached orgasm.

  “I hate you,” I moaned as he kneeled between my legs with careless disregard for retaliation. I may have been trembling uncontrollably, but I was sure my aim was still good enough to kick him off the bed.

  Jack smirked as he leaned over me, reaching for the condom and diving in to kiss along my jaw, which I willingly gave him access to. “No, you don’t.” He sat back to open and roll on the condom, stroking my thigh with his free hand as he did so, as if he needed constant contact.

  “No, I don’t,” I said softly and lifted my calves to his shoulders.

  “I don’t hate you either.” Then he shifted forward, pushing my knees to my chest, and entered me.

  I was still a little startled whenever Jack penetrated me. There was a slight burn and mildly uncomfortable sensation but it passed quickly as he worked his length into my body. In those first few moments, it was the gentleness of his touch and his attention to me that always took my breath away. The way he focused on my body over his own and made sure he wasn’t hurting me, rather than just ramming me in order to get his own gratification. Only when the glide of his cock was smooth did he start to give in to his own wants.

  Jack shrugged my legs off his shoulders and pushed them apart so he could get closer. He skimmed his lips over my throat, kissing his way down my shoulder and back across my clavicles. His body moved over me and in me, tender, deep thrusts, making sure I felt every inch of him. Braced on one hand, he reached down with the other to pull at my thigh to let me know where he wanted my legs. Obedient, I wrapped them around him, knees pressed to his ribs, heels against his flexing buttocks. That done, he touched me. My face, my chest, my arm. Soft, wondering caresses that left me dizzy.

  It was slow and passionate and beautiful and not at all what I needed. Wanted, yes, but needed? Not if I had any chance of salvaging anything from my botched plan.

  Damn Jack and his rules and careless words and his tender touches and his effortless ability to hurt me.

  “Jack,” I moaned, lips pressed to his cheek.

  “Yeah.” He rocked into me, harder and deeper.

  It felt so good I could nearly fool myself into believing this was all I ever needed. Much more of it, though, and I’d be confessing everything to him, and the plans of a Burmese drug lord were the least of it.

  “Jack.” There was more pleading in this one, hope that he would hear what I needed without me having to say it again.

  Whatever Jack heard, it sent a shudder through his body and he kissed and licked and tasted his way from one nipple to the other, murmuring “Yeah” over and over as he went.

  Everything he was doing was wearing me down, kiss by kiss, touch by touch, thrust by thrust. He lifted his head and brought his face to mine, cheek to cheek, and his hand stroked up my ribs, over my pectoral, curved around my neck and his fingers delved into my hair.

  I loved it when he touched my head or wound his fingers through my hair. So many memories of being touched like that, from so long ago. It wasn’t sexual for me, even when he did it in the middle of intercourse like this. To me it meant caring and comfort and . . . and love. Involuntarily, I titled my head back into his hand, wanting more of it.

  “Christ, Ethan,” Jack hissed, his fingers digging into my scalp, his hips pushing harder, trying to get closer, deeper. He kissed my jaw, my neck, my ear, then worked his way towards my mouth.

  Already on a precipice, I knew that if he kissed me properly, I’d be completely lost.

  I bucked, pushing at him with arms and hips. “Jack.”

  “I know, I know.” He shifted sides and sucked my earlobe into his hot mouth.

  “No, Jack. I mean . . .” I trailed off as little shots of lightning shot from my ear right down to my aching cock and arse. This wasn’t going to plan at all. Gathering my few remaining wits, I got hold of a fistful of his hair and tugged his head up. “Jack, I said fuck me.”

  Jack’s hips froze in mid-thrust. Startled, he stared at me for a moment, then asked, “What do you mean?”

  Oh dear. I squirmed, feeling my cheeks warm, even more than they had under Jack’s attentions. “I mean, like the first time. In the cave, when you drove me crazy.” Like when the sex was only hot and amazing, not incendiary and shattering, and I didn’t know you like I do now, didn’t know just how thoroughly you would destroy my world and recreate it for me in beautiful, painful ways.

  “Crazier,” Jack corrected absently.

  I chuckled because I didn’t want him to worry. And nipped at his jaw because I needed him to know I still wanted him. “Please, Jack. Like then.”

  The shifting of our bodies let his cock slide out of me, so I took advantage of it and wriggled over onto my belly. I lifted my hips for him, knees bent and spread, a silent plea for him to fill me back up.

  After a strained moment, Jack moaned, “Fuck,” and settled back between my legs. Hands on my hips, he pushed his cock into me, slow like it was the first thrust again. It forced the breath I’d been holdi
ng out on a relieved sigh, then a second breath on a gasp as he pulled out and plunged back in, fast and hard.

  I didn’t know why I thought this position would be easier. The pleasure jolting through me was exactly the same as before, explosive and glorious, just concentrated into sharper, firmer motions. Jack’s touches—sweeping caresses up and down my back, hard grips on my hips and shoulders, the bite of his teeth on my shoulder blade—still sent me reeling. The sounds of his panting and grunts, of his flesh slapping against mine, of “Ethan” and his growling blasphemies, riddled me like bullets.

  Don’t fight them. It’s easier if you don’t. Just let them do whatever they want . . . It was advice I’d followed since the day it had been given to me. Words that I’d clung to in every sexual encounter with a male target—until Jack. That first time, I’d tried to follow the advice, but Jack had shaken me free of it, relentlessly waking up parts of me, physical and emotional, I hadn’t known I possessed. I knew them now and still he was giving them back to me like it was the first time.

  I was doomed.

  “I’m not going to last long,” Jack warned me.

  Neither was I at this pace. I got a hand around my cock moments before Jack shoved me down into the mattress. He lay down over my back and wrapped his arms around me, holding me tighter. His weight was oppressive but welcomed, like he could protect me from anything the world fired at me.

  “God, Ethan,” he moaned, hips going wild.

  Every push of his cock into my body was cracking me open. I buried my face in the pillow and clung to the arms around me with one hand, the other around my cock, doing nothing but giving it a channel to move in as Jack pounded my arse.

  “Fuck, I’m close.” Jack pressed his face into my shoulder.

  I let go of his arm and reached back to wind my fingers through his hair, to make sure he didn’t pull away yet. I wanted him as close as I could get him right then. My orgasm was building frightfully fast and I clenched my fist around my shaft, hoping it would give me just that little bit of extra—

  The orgasm ripped through me, heat and light bursting through the cracks to shatter me into a million pieces that Jack held together with his strong arms and encompassing body. I barely heard him shout “Ethan,” but I felt him come, hard and powerfully, his cock pulsing inside me. Several never-ending moments later, the tension eased out of him and his whole weight settled on my back.