“Purely by accident,” she assured him, knowing better.
“Accident?” He had the audacity to laugh. “Baby, bad things happen to liars.”
“Liar? How do I know it wasn’t an accident? It’s not like you actually let me know it was planned.”
The opportunity was there and too perfect to resist.
“You’re going to regret that tonight,” he assured her.
“Promises, promises.” She just wanted to come. He’d make her wait. Torture her if she let him.
He smiled. A slow, wicked, erotic smile that had her heart racing, her vagina clenching.
“Three orgasms before I fuck you,” he predicted. “Two after that and the last one…” Wry amusement curled his lips. “The last one will probably kill us both.”
“The first one now.” She was at the point of begging.
Jazz only chuckled. “Not hardly, baby.”
Instead of lowering his head to the aching flesh between her thighs, he rose over her.
Electric lust gleamed in his eyes as he brushed her fingers away from her nipples and lowered his lips to them instead.
“I was joking,” she whimpered. Knowing the torture would be worse now. “Jazz…”
His lips surrounded a nipple, sucked it into his mouth, and his tongue began to play. With one hand lying low on her stomach, his teeth surrounded the tip with searing pleasure-pain for just a second before he suckled at it with firm, hot draws of his mouth.
When she was certain flames would engulf her entire body he repeated each lick, nip, and hungry draw to the other stiff peak. And each time she tried to touch him he pushed her hands aside until finally he captured both her wrists in one hand, stretched them above her head, and went back to killing her with pleasure.
Perspiration slicked her body. Heat licked over her flesh as he played with each hard tip. Until finally he captured one between his lips, drawing on it tighter, harder … The lashing pleasure shot straight to her womb, bowed her body instantly and exploded in a shower of exquisite pleasure.
No, he had not just done that.
But he had, and he proved it as he moved to her other nipple. With expert licks, nips, and draws of his hot mouth he had brilliant heat cascading through her in an orgasm that rocked her senses.
No sooner had she began catching her breath than she felt the leather shackling her wrists above her head. Tugging at the restraints, she stared up at the lust-tightened features watching her carefully.
“I can’t touch you like this,” she whispered desperately. She needed to touch him.
“You make me lose control,” he whispered, his voice rough, hungry. “Besides, this way all you have to do is feel good.
Feel good? This way he could torture her easier.
His lips lowered between her breasts, moving down her body as his hands stroked along an inner thigh. She was so wet, her juices spilling from her vagina, that her thighs were damp as well.
“Two down,” he murmured. “One to go.”
Okay, her clit, she thought, shocked at how quickly arousal rose inside her after her release.
Jazz didn’t do anything quickly, though. With her restrained he had not just quick access, but full control. And he made use of it.
His tongue worked around her swollen clit, moving close but never actually creating the friction she needed to orgasm.
With her legs spread wide, knees bent, he devoured the swollen folds below, licking over them as his fingers eased along the narrow valley below the entrance to her vagina.
His fingertips found her rear entrance, pressing against it, entering as his mouth covered her clit.
Not enough.
Her head tossed, her hips arching forward to create the needed friction. Each push against his lips pushed his finger deeper past her anal entrance. When she was begging for it another finger joined the first and penetrated the tight ring of muscles.
Using the natural lubrication spilling from her vagina he was pumping his fingers inside her, fucking her rear with the same deep, bold thrusts he’d used when pushing inside her pussy.
His lips tightened on her clit, suckling it deep, harder. His tongue flicked at it, rubbed against it, then pressed …
“Oh God…” Like a trigger. His tongue pressed at the side of the swollen bud, rubbed and flicked and sent shocking, fiery explosions tearing through her.
Her muscles tightened, locked in place as his fingers moved along the incredible, nerve-laden ring tightening around them. Brilliant white light infused her senses and sent her hurtling into a release that had her sobbing his name.
Waves of ecstasy battered at her senses as she shuddered in his hold. Her body jerked, trembled until the aftershocks eased to a few little ripples racing up her spine.
And it wasn’t enough.
She whimpered as her vagina clenched and flexed. The additional hunger almost torturous to her now oversensitized body.
“This is the part I like.” Jazz’s voice was guttural and rough. “Every time you come it’s like your pussy gets tighter. It’s going to be so tight, baby, that the pleasure and pain will…”
The head of his cock moved into place, pressing against her then thrusting. Just as quickly he withdrew, only to push in again.
Three hard, agonizingly escalating thrusts and she was coming around the shuttling length of his cock as he buried it to the hilt inside her.
She was screaming his name as she felt her wrists release. Coming over her, Jazz gripped her hip and began moving against her. Even as her release rained around the head of his cock he was driving her higher, pushing her into a supernova she could feel reaching out for her.
“That’s it, baby,” he groaned at her ear. “Move with me just like that, Kenni … Ah hell yeah. Fuck me back, Kenni.”
She couldn’t control the arch of her hips. Jazz was thrusting into her fast and hard, pistoning strokes that ignited a torturous flame … It built. It seared her with pleasure, then when it exploded destroyed her with ecstasy, with a pleasure that drove her far beyond any previous concept of ecstasy.
Above her, Jazz called her name, his voice tight, strangled as the feel of his release throbbing inside her extended the rapture lashing at her, burning through her senses until she collapsed against the bed.
Boneless.
Exhausted.
She made a mental note though:
Never dare Jazz sexually again.
Not ever.
“I love you, honey-girl,” he whispered drowsily. “With all my soul.”
Okay, maybe she’d dare him occasionally.
EPILOGUE
Six weeks later
The funeral was a travesty. A joke Grace found little amusement in. But she was ordered to be there. Despite her objections, despite her arguments, still, she sat there beneath the summer sky at the edge of the Maddox family cemetery and kept her mouth shut as her mother was buried.
Lucia Maddox, widow of Benjamin Maddox, second wife to his brother Vincent Maddox, sister to Vincent’s first wife, Sierra Maddox. Betrayer. Traitor. Murderer.
Her fists clenched in her lap, her nails biting into her palms at the knowledge of what Lucia had been and what she had ultimately gotten away with. She hadn’t paid for her crimes. She hadn’t suffered for what she’d done or served time without freedom for the crimes and the pain she’d inflicted on the Maddox family. Grace couldn’t say she’d hurt those who loved her, because honestly, those who really knew her, hadn’t loved her.
She’d played the poor unloved wife for nine years. Poor little Lucia Maddox, the townspeople whispered. She’d married her sister’s husband only to suffer with the knowledge that he’d only married her because she’d so resembled the woman he had loved. Then there were those who said Vincent and Lucia had been sleeping together long before Sierra’s death. Grace knew better than that, just as she’d suspected it was Lucia who had begun the rumor.