I Spy a Wicked Sin (10 page)

“I thought so. Now relax and give yourself over to me,” he said seductively. “Trust me and I’ll make you fly.”

On his knees, he scooped his hands under her ass, lifted her off the bed, and brought her sex to his mouth. He had an image of feasting on a juicy watermelon in the summertime, and figured that to be a good analogy.

Pink, succulent flesh yielding to his will. Spilling its sweetness onto his taste buds, making him lap it up, loath to waste a drop. He stabbed his tongue deep into her sheath, fucking her that way, swirling, and out again, licking up to her clit. He repeated this several times and she began to thrash, harsh sounds breaking in her throat.

Not good enough. He wanted her mindless, all her control lost. So he fastened his mouth to her sex and began to suckle, ate her like a five-star banquet, relentless.

She began to vibrate in his hands, writhing. “Oh, shit! Jude, yes!”

He didn’t let up and she bucked wildly, screamed so loud his ears rang. Salty- sweet cum splashed over his tongue and he devoured all she had to give.

“Fuck me!” she cried. “Please, fuck me!”

Lowering her once more, he groped for the foil packet, tore it open, and covered himself. Then he hooked her legs over his shoulders and impaled her in a single smooth glide.

Tamara was beyond coherent speech at this point, just what turned Jude on the most—a lover who was totally under his control, his to play with, fuck without mercy. Whatever he desired.

And Lily was still there. Riveted. He couldn’t say how he knew, he just did. Her presence was palpable, the air supercharged. He could almost smell her arousal, and it brought out the feral male animal in him. Mastering one lover while another observed, hidden in the shadows.

He pumped his slick length into her with steady strokes, holding back his orgasm as long as possible. His cock was on fire, balls tight and on the verge of detonation.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Goddamn! Can’t hold back . . .”

Giving in, he hammered into her, plunging deep. The storm built, the familiar buzz starting at the base of his spine. His balls drew up and he exploded with a shout, filled her with his cum. He held himself seated to the balls until the spasms receded, leaving him empty. Satisfied.

And boneless, too. Smiling, he lowered her to the bed again, leaned over, and ran a hand up her arm, to her shoulder. When he found her face, he gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you, Tamara. You are amazing.”

“Me? No way. You fucked me stupid.” A yawn punctuated the statement.

“Stay for a while longer? Take a nap?”

“Then go for round two?”

“Give me a bit to recuperate, and you’re on.”

He sat up and removed the condom, tied it off, and tossed it in the direction of his clothes. He’d take care of it, and any others, later.

Much later. Spooning to Tamara’s back, he realized he no longer sensed Lily’s presence. Irrationally, he felt a little disappointed that she hadn’t stayed. Maybe even joined them.

He ought to consider himself fortunate that Lily was sexually open and hadn’t already packed and run for the hills.

She wouldn’t, either. He knew she was intrigued and would stay to build her place here.

And one day soon, she wouldn’t be on the outside looking in.

Lily stood riveted, entranced by the sight of Jude’s big body quivering over Tamara’s. His thick cock buried in her pussy, the woman’s long legs dangling over his muscled back.

He pulled out of his lover and Lily retreated into her room, hand over her pounding heart. She’d never witnessed anything so . . . so
raw
. Untamed.

And completely unrepentant. He’d known Lily was there. She’d made a noise and he’d turned his head slightly to the side, lips curving into a wicked smile. He hadn’t faltered. Instead, he’d ravished the other woman like a starving man, with double the fervor.

Over and over, Lily’s mind replayed Jude undressing her. Sucking her nipples. When Tamara had gone down on him, Lily longed to be the one taking his cock into her mouth, deepthroating him, pushing him to the edge. She could practically taste his earthy flavor, the salt and musk of him.

And when he’d spread the other woman wide and feasted on her . . . Lily shivered. In all her travels, all her dealings, she’d never played the voyeur before today. Spied on people who were breaking the law, yes. Not on people having sex. Never cared to because, to be honest, most of the men she ran across during her assignments just weren’t that compelling. They were rich, lazy, spoiled. Crooked as hell, with few redeeming qualities.

Jude blew all her preconceptions out of the water.

The man was powerful. Exciting.

And her job entailed dousing that fire forever.

For once in her career, she couldn’t reconcile the damning evidence and the task ahead of her with the man. The loss of self-assuredness scared her. She couldn’t breathe.

Slipping on a short silk robe, she left her room, intent on taking a walk and regaining her equilibrium. But the film reel of Jude’s glorious ass flexing as he drove into Tamara wouldn’t leave her alone. He was everything Lily desired in a sexual partner and nothing she could have long-term.

She wandered aimlessly, locked in turmoil. To try to resist the lure of becoming part of Jude’s lifestyle, his world, would be fruitless. She craved the pleasures he could give her like an addict craved another hit.

So she’d take all she could, for the time they had. Because he was a killer, she could justify and compartmentalize her actions. To survive, she had no choice.

With new resolve, she padded downstairs, feeling somewhat more settled. Not great, but less conflicted. In moments, she found herself in the sunroom, darkened now save for the light reflecting from the pool outside and bouncing around inside, where she stood. All was peaceful. Maybe she’d sit out there, or go for a skinny-dip.

The instant the idea formed, she caught a silhouette seated on the pool’s lip. Liam’s profile. The younger man’s legs dangled into the water, arms braced on either side of him. He stared across the wide expanse before him, unmoving. A beautiful, naked statue carved of marble.

She was about to go outside when he slumped and hung his head. His long bangs hid his expression, but she didn’t need to see it to read the emotions when he rested his elbows on his thighs and buried his face in his hands. Pain rolled off him like blood from a mortal wound. Backing away, she respected his privacy, though she wondered.

What was Liam’s story? Why was he so upset?

Earlier, he’d given no indication anything was wrong. Seemed as though she wasn’t the only one around who had learned to compartmentalize—or was trying, and miserably failing.

Little did Liam know how she empathized.

She made herself scarce, wishing she could force Liam’s silent agony from her mind.
Oh, sweetie. The pain you feel now? That’s nothing.

But he’d survive.

Like Lily, he’d have no choice.

Jude gasped and bolted upright, confused by the dark veil over his vision where there had been death moments before. A horrible scene in living color, vanished in an instant. Where was the dead man?
Where am I?

Gradually, he came to his senses. He was sitting up in bed, clutching a sheet to his sweaty chest. And he was still blind.

“Another fucking nightmare,” he muttered to himself, swiping a shaking hand down his face.

Pain throbbed at his temples, squeezed his brain in a vise. Dammit, he needed his medicine if he hoped to stave off a full-blown migraine. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, only to be broadsided by a wave of dizziness that knocked him on his ass.

He flopped onto his back, legs dangling over the side, and breathed through the sickness roiling in his belly. Too late. No way could he make it to the bathroom to get his capsule. Clutching his head, he curled onto his side in the fetal position, determined to ride it out.

Dimly, he became aware of the mattress dipping with someone’s weight. A hand smoothing his hair.

“Are you all right?” Liam asked quietly. “Do you need a pill?”

“God, yes. Please.”

“Hang tight, man.”

Jude almost groaned at the loss of the soothing touch as the other man retreated. In the bathroom, the medicine bottle rattled and the faucet ran briefly. Then Liam returned, helped him sit up, and pressed a glass into his hand.

“Thanks,” he said, voice raspy.

“No problem.”

Liam placed the capsule in his open palm and Jude downed the thing, hating the inevitable stupor to come. But it was either oblivion or puking for hours until he passed out anyway. Some choice.

Liam took the glass from him and set it on the nightstand. “Lie down again and be still.”

“Like I have another option?”

“I wish you did, my friend.”

“Me, too.”

Jude settled on his pillow and closed his eyes, giving a sigh as his friend continued stroking his hair. “Your fingers are magic.”

“You know better than anyone.”

In spite of the drill bit boring into his skull, Jude smiled. “Maybe not better than Lily.”

Liam froze. “You know?”

“I’m blind, kid, not deaf.” Damn, that had come out awfully short.

“Jude, I’m sorry. I—I—”

“What’s this?” Reaching for the other man, he found his knee and gave a reassuring squeeze. “We’ve never apologized to each other for indulging our appetites and there’s no reason to start now.”

“Yeah? Well, don’t growl at me next time.” His tone reminded Jude of a sulky boy.

“What? I did not.”

“Afraid so.”

Despite the sledgehammer pounding behind his eyes, he thought back. “Okay, maybe I did. It’s this damned headache.”

He had snarled, a little, not just because of the migraine. For some reason, knowing his friend and sometime lover had taken Lily first, four days ago, annoyed the hell out of him. No, it sort of pissed him off, truth be told. Which wasn’t fair to Liam.

“It’s all right,” Liam said, sounding mollified.

“No, I make the rules. I ought to be able to live by them. I’m the one who owes you an apology, and I’m sorry.”

“Forget it.” The hand resumed stroking his hair. “You’re in no shape to get worked up.”

“I don’t like arguing with you.”

“Shh, we didn’t argue,” Liam soothed. “Sleep.”

“Don’t know if I can.” Even as he made the claim, his body sank into the bed, the medicinal fuzz taking the edge off the pain and making his friend seem miles away. “That goddamned nightmare ...”

“They’re getting worse.” A statement, not a question.

“I can’t escape them,” he said hoarsely. “They’re brutal, frightening, and they make no sense.”

“What was it this time?”

“I killed a man.” His big frame shuddered. “In cold blood. I was perched atop a building in some small desert town with a rifle and scope. Blew his brains out and the worst part was . . . I was glad to exterminate him.”

Liam’s voice cracked. “God, Jude.”

“The dreams aren’t always that bad.” No, sometimes they were worse. What his sweet, sensitive friend didn’t know was for the best.

“If you say so.”

He didn’t sound convinced, and Jude didn’t have the heart to lie. Instead, he drifted off to the comforting lull of Liam’s fingers raking through the strands of his hair, as he wondered what type of man dreamed of murdering other people without remorse.

And whether they were nightmares at all.