Wicked Pleasure (Bound Hearts #9)

Wicked Pleasure (Bound Hearts #9) Page 2

He wasn’t wearing jeans. He was wearing the camouflage pants he usually wore when leaving for or returning from duty. How long had he been home? It couldn’t have been for long. Had he come straight here for her? Just for her?

“You shouldn’t be here, sweetheart.” His hands slid over her back. Up. Down. Then, his hand slid beneath the bottom of her shirt and touched her bare flesh.

Oh God. His hands were broad and calloused, warm, impossibly arousing. She could feel the shudders working up her spine from his touch, tearing at the control she had promised herself she would have around him.

At twenty-six, Cam was a world ahead of her in experience. A warrior, a conqueror. It was in his dark face, in those light green eyes.

“Where should I be?” She lifted her head to him, he with his gaze imprisoning hers as he stared down at her. He swayed to the music with her, rubbed against her.

“Safe,” he answered.

“At home, playing with my dolls?” she suggested sweetly. “Those days are long gone, Cam.”

His expression was hungry. She teased him, though she knew better. She tilted her hips toward him, then gasped in shock as his hands slid to her rear, clenched the rounded flesh and jerked her to him.

“Cam?” Her nails dug into his shoulders as the hard wedge of his erection pressed tight against the sensitive flesh between her thighs.

“You can go home with me, or I can take you back to your parents’,” he rasped. “Which one?”

Her lips parted as she fought to breathe, to make sense of this abrupt change in the man she had been flirting with and teasing for so many years.

“The party—”

“You’re not staying here.” He backed her against the front of the truck, lifting her until he was wedged fully against her, his hands sliding beneath the skirt to the bare flesh revealed by the thong she wore.

No, she wasn’t staying here. She stared into his eyes, instinct clashing with feminine need and fear, until she fought to breathe through the sensations racing through her.

The party was a catalyst, nothing more. It always had been—since that first party, when she was sixteen. He was the dark visage that moved from the shadows, caught her wrist, and dragged her from the date she had arrived with, and had made certain she never stayed.

He had taken her home that night. Tonight, he would take her to his home. Since she was thirteen and found him in that truck at the back of her father’s land, Cam had been her protector in ways he had never been before.

He pulled her to his pickup, unlocked the passenger door, and lifted her to the seat. Before she could turn forward, one hand slid into her hair, the other clamped to her hip, and he was staring at her. His gaze bored into hers, the tension building until Jaci felt as though it would eat her alive.

“My house or your parents’?” his voice was hard, demanding.

There was no question of which.

“Yours.” She had waited too long, fantasized for too many years.

No sooner had the words left her than his lips covered hers. Possessive, demanding. He made no concessions, no apologies. His tongue stroked into her mouth, nudged against hers and in those seconds she learned more about a kiss than she had learned in her entire life.

She learned a kiss could burn from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. That it could slam into her womb, convulse it and release inside her a hunger for more that she didn’t know she was capable of.

Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, her head tilted to his, mewling cries leaving her lips as he nipped at them, sucked them, then pressed against them once again.

He kissed her like he was dying for her taste and hers alone. He kissed her with an experience, a knowledge worlds away from hers.

When he pulled back, she stared up at him, dazed and uncertain and wanting so much more.

“You know what coming home with me means?” he asked her then. “Everything it means?”

She nodded. Oh yes, she knew what it would mean. She wouldn’t be tossing alone in her own bed. She would be in his bed, beneath his hard body.

“Everything, Jaci?” His fingers tightened in her hair as he jerked her closer, his thighs spreading hers, her skirt riding up until the hard proof of his arousal pressed dead center between her thighs.

“Everything,” she gasped.

He could have her here, right here in the front seat of his pickup, if that was what he wanted. Whatever he wanted. She was dying for more, primed for it.

“You shouldn’t have come here tonight.” His fingers caressed her cheek, his expression darkening. “Any night but tonight.”

“But I knew you would be here tonight,” she answered. “I came for you, Cam. I always come for you.”

He grimaced, a hard flex of his expression as his hands slid to her thighs, curved on the bare flesh and his hips pressed harder against her.

Jaci felt her lashes droop, sexual weakness filling her, pumping through her. A drugged awareness of the fact that he was more man than she could handle, but the only man she wanted.

“Get in there before I end up fucking you here.” He jerked back, slid her around on the leather seat and slammed the door.

He didn’t drive sedately back to the house he shared with his brother on the other side of town. He took the back roads with a speed that should have been reckless, but instead felt controlled.

He handled the vehicle the same way he had handled her earlier. With confidence and determination, he drove the truck into the twocar garage where he drew it to a stop and cut the motor.

He wasn’t giving her a chance to change her mind. He turned, opened his door, and stepped out before reaching back for her. Lifting her against his hard body, her toes barely touching the floor, his lips stole her kiss, and stole her senses.

His lips devoured hers, his tongue slid past them, licked against her tongue and danced over it as she strained to get closer. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she held on tight, lost in a sea of such incredible sensations that she never wanted to emerge from it.

Her senses were tossed amid the lust burning out of control between the two of them, but there was more, she thought. There was a lifetime of waiting, of knowing this was coming. Years of saving herself for this one night, for this one man.

One arm remained around her back while the other gripped the side of her rear, holding her against him as he walked, maybe stumbled a bit to the door that led into the house. Her eyes were closed and desperate mewls of pleasure were echoing from her throat.

His hand clenched on her butt as he braced her against a wall. She didn’t even know which room they had stepped into.

“Take this off.” He pulled the shirt over her head, disposed of it, tossed it behind him, and a second later he was laying her back on a wide, leather couch as he knelt on the floor beside her.

She wasn’t wearing a bra. She had deliberately not worn a bra, and now, as Cam stared down at her, as those light, bright-green eyes narrowed on the swollen, hard-tipped mounds of her breasts, she was fiercely glad she hadn’t.

Her nipples ached. They hurt with the need for his touch, the stroke of his tongue, his lips.

“You’re beautiful.” He said it so simply, his voice so husky and rasping with hunger that she felt her lower stomach tighten violently in reaction.

“I’ll never get enough of you.” One broad hand cupped a breast. “Ever.”

Then his lips were covering her nipple, sucking it deep inside his mouth, as her back arched and a cry fell from her lips.

She was only barely aware of his other hand pushing at the elastic band of her short skirt, pushing it over her hips. The black skirt was amazingly daring, the thong beneath it so brief that she had nearly not worn it.

But this was Cam. There was no shame with Cam.

She writhed beneath his mouth, his tongue flickering over her nipple, flaying it with heat as she kicked the skirt from her ankles and his large hand pressed between her thighs.

His fingers pushed under her panties, found her slick and wet, as a cry ripped past her lips and her fingers tightened in his hair.

The tip of one finger rubbed at the entrance to her body, drawing more of the silky wetness from her. Jaci felt as though she were burning from the inside out, lost in a vortex and fighting to find her way.

“Hold on to me, baby,” he whispered, as though he knew, understood. “Just hold on to me. It’s all okay.”

But it wasn’t okay. She had waited too long, needed too much.

Her hands tore at his shirt until he jerked it from his shoulders with one hand. The fingers of the other continued to stroke, to massage the swollen folds of her pussy.

Her hands pushed down on his chest as she fought to breathe, her fingers fumbling with his belt, then the zipper of his pants.

A minute later, the hard, impressive length of his erection was free.

He knelt beside the couch, his fingers doing erotic, wicked things between her thighs, and all she could do was stare at the hard, swollen head of his cock.

It was dark, throbbing, the heavily veined shaft twitching under her fingers as she curled them around it. Not that they could meet. There was a lot of flesh there.

“Jaci,” he growled her name—a rough, thick sound—as she lifted her head and placed a kiss at his thigh.

“I’ve dreamed of this.” And she had. Endless nights of dreams.

“All of it, Jaci?” he asked her then. “Everything?”

“Everything.” She lifted her head and licked over the engorged cock head, the taste of stormy male and dark lust meeting her tongue as she moaned at the knowledge that he wanted her. Cam wanted her.

“Like this.” His hand caught in her hair, held her head still, then his hips pressed the thick length closer. “Open your mouth, baby. Slow and easy. Take me there.”

Slow and easy. She let her tongue flicker over the head, feeling his hands tighten in her hair as he filled her mouth with the hard flesh.

Jaci couldn’t help but cry out. She stared up at him, her lashes heavy, heat consuming her as she began to draw on the sensitive crest, sucking and licking it. Reliving all the fantasies she had ever wove in her head when it came to Cam.

As she drew on him she felt her thong slide down her legs. Felt his hand part her thighs. His tongue lapped at the moist flesh of her pussy, sliding through the narrow slit, circling her clit.

She stared up at Cam. He had one hand buried in her hair, the other circling her hand, guiding his cock in and out of her mouth.

And between her thighs . . .

A whimper left her, as knowledge slowly penetrated her as surely as that tongue penetrated her vagina, and calloused male hands spread her thighs wider.

She tried to jerk back, but his fingers tightened.

She cried out, staring up at Cam in shock as his eyes opened, the pupils suddenly flaring as something akin to agony twisted his features.

His cock slid from her lips and her head jerked, staring down to watch his twin, Chase, lift his head from between her thighs.

His lips glistened with her juices. His eyes, so like Cam’s, his features identical, suddenly tightened with shock and knowledge.

“Cam?” His voice was hard, powerful. “She knew this was coming. Right?”

Jaci shook her head, shuddering, torn between begging them to stop and begging them to finish. A roller coaster of sensation was tearing through her. Her senses were alive with too many impulses, too much pleasure, and too much awareness.

It wasn’t just Cam.

Everything. He wanted everything. And then she remembered. Like a splash of cold water, she knew that the rumors of the two brothers sharing their lovers wasn’t just rumor. It was truth.

“This is everything,” Cam whispered, touching her cheek, drawing her gaze back to him, his eyes tormented, somber. “I thought you knew, Jaci. I thought you were warned what everything meant.”

Watch Cam. Everything means giving it to him and Chase. The warning, given by a friend that she had ignored. That Jaci had denied. Petty gossip, she had told herself. Jealousy. But it was truth.