I Spy a Wicked Sin (12 page)

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Authors: Jo Davis

Tags: #American Light Romantic Fiction, #Erotica - General, #Fiction - Adult, #Assassins, #American Mystery & Suspense Fiction, #Romantic suspense fiction, #General, #Romance, #Erotic fiction, #Suspense, #Erotica, #Fiction

BOOK: I Spy a Wicked Sin
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Lily’s body ignited. Fire flared in her pussy and she grasped Jude’s organ, pumping the base in a firm grip. He moaned, arched his back, seeking more. Pre- cum leaked from the bulbous head, the shaft flushed a purplish red.
“Want to know what I’m thinking?” she asked.
“Y-yes, honey. Tell me.”
“I’m picturing you fucking Liam.” A hearty groan punctuated her statement as she continued to stroke. “You’ve fucked him, haven’t you?”
“Yes, I have.”
“Do you love bending him over, splitting his ass with this huge cock? Being buried deep inside him?”
“God, yes,” he rasped. “He’s an incredible lover, as you well know.”
She laughed softly. “That I do. Tell me something. . . . Could I watch, the next time you fuck him?” She’d show Jude anticipation. She was going to drive him crazy. Bending, she licked the head of his cock, tasting the salty drops.
He hissed, making a visible effort to control the thrust of his hips. “I’ll go one better. You can join us.”
A thrill went through her at the idea, but she hesitated, thinking of Liam and whatever was troubling him. “Will he mind?”
“I have a feeling he’ll welcome the suggestion with open arms. He’s already becoming quite fond of you, in case you weren’t aware.”
“I feel the same about him. You’ll ask him?”
“Just try to stop me now that you’ve put the delicious thought in my head.”
“Good.”
Putting aside the talk for now, she licked his shaft from base to tip. Then she suckled his testicles, rolling them between her fingers to heighten his pleasure. From his writhing and the increasing throaty noises, she was succeeding.
When she slid his cock between her lips, sucking him down, he bucked, called out her name. His girth filled her mouth, stretched her so wide she couldn’t possibly take him all the way down her throat, but she took all she was able.
It was enough. After several pulls, he gently pushed her back. “You’re going to make me go too soon, baby. Want to last.” Sitting up, he said, “I want you on your hands and knees.”
Lily shivered. She was no stranger to sex, but rarely did she allow a man to take such a dominant position. And this man was nothing if not in command. But the quiver she felt was one of excitement, not dread. He wanted this, and she couldn’t wait to give it to him.
She assumed the position, poking her ass out and spreading her knees. Her pussy was wet, burning at the knowledge that she’d willingly made herself vulnerable to whatever he wanted. She wanted this powerful man for herself, splitting
her
pussy,
her
ass.
Whatever he desired.
Jude fumbled in the bedside table for a moment, taking out a condom and small bottle of lube. Items in hand, he carefully moved around behind her, touching her side to guide him.
Fingers skimmed down her spine to the crease in her rear. A cap snicked open and she gasped as cool gel squirted onto the puckered entrance of her ass.
“I’m only going to give you my fingers here, this time,” he reassured her. “I’m not sure you’re ready to take me this way.”
“I’ve been fucked like that before, but not in a while.” And never by anyone as big as Jude.
“Relax and let me savor, hmm? Just feel.”
A lubed finger worked into her hole, past the tight ring of muscle. The strange pinch was accompanied by the peculiar warmth that quickly became pleasure, spreading tendrils of heat to her clit. The bud throbbed as a second finger joined the first, stretching her bit by bit.
He shifted and his tongue laved her slit, soft and warm.
“Oh!”
Lily couldn’t help but arch into him, swept away by the naughty act—a man finger-fucking her ass while eating her from behind. Her body hummed, the sensations almost too much.
“You have such a sweet cunt, baby,” he whispered against the bare lips of her sex. “Juicy like a ripe peach. Want me to eat your peach, baby?”
“Yes! Please, yes!”
The rasp of his tongue against her skin fanned the flames higher. Then it dipped between her folds, licking at her cream, fucking her channel in tempo with the fingers tunneling in her ass. Angling his head, he found her clit and fastened his mouth to the nub, suckling, shorting out her nerve endings.
“Jude,” she gasped. “Oh, God, I’m going to come!”
“You’ll come on my cock, honey. Wait for me.” His fingers left her ass, and the condom wrapper crinkled.
Grasping her hips, he positioned the head of his cock between her soaked pussy lips and began to push into her channel. His rod was scorching hot, stretching her impossibly wide, filling her as she’d never been filled before.
“Goddamn, you’re tight and you’re so small,” he groaned. “Am I hurting you?”
“No, don’t stop.”
“Thank God.”
He continued in a slow, sensuous glide, until they were locked together, groin to ass. His balls were snuggled against her sex, fingers digging into her flesh. His cock was a torch inside her, setting them both aflame.
“Fuck me, Jude. Oh, please . . .” Was that her voice, begging?
“Shit, yeah. But I’m not going to last long.”
“Just do it!”
He pulled out to the head, pushed in again, slow, torturing them both. Out, slow, then in. She backed into him, impaling herself, urging him to go faster, give them what they needed.
His strokes became harder, deeper. They panted together, bodies slapping as he fucked her fast and hard now, driving her mindless. Nothing mattered but his cock hammering into her, claiming her as his.
Her clit began to pulse and her orgasm exploded. “Oh, yes! Jude!”
With a guttural cry, he buried his cock deep and held there, heat spilling into her. Her sex convulsed around him, milking every last drop as his big body shuddered again and again.
At last, he pulled out with a sigh of regret. Wrung- out, she flopped onto her back and watched him remove the condom, tie it off, and pitch it over the side of the bed.
When he lay beside her and opened his arms, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to cuddle against his side and pillow her head in the crook of his shoulder.
“Being with you was even more awesome that I imagined it would be,” he said quietly, kissing the top of her head. “Thank you.”
“Same here, and no thanks necessary. I don’t plan on it being the last time.”
He chuckled. “Woman after my own heart.”
For some reason, Lily’s throat tightened and something hitched in the region of
her
heart. Sex had never made her so emotional before.
It couldn’t be because he was the most extraordinary man—not to mention lover—she’d ever met.
Or because he was nothing she’d been told to expect.
And certainly not because he’d put her comfort above his own lust.
“Jude?”
“Mmm?”
“When you asked me if you were hurting me . . . if I’d said yes, would you have stopped?”
“What?” He sounded surprised by the question. “Of course I would have. Contrary to what you might believe, I
do
think of others besides myself. I take care of the people close to me.”
She swallowed hard. “I apologize. I suppose I’m not used to a man like you.”
“Whatever that means.” He snorted, hugging her close. “And I
will
find out what’s wrong with Liam, now that I’m fully aware something’s up.”
“I shouldn’t have implied otherwise,” she said.
“No worries. Let’s take a nap before we face the rest of the day, shall we?”
“Okay.”
Listening to Jude’s heart thump under her ear, Lily realized she’d never felt so safe in her entire life. So complete.
Or so hopelessly confused.
This man was a good man, one worthy of respect. Love. This man deserved to have a life, based on who he was
now
.
But what about the monster he was before?
Lily drifted off with visions of blood, death, and heartbreak tormenting her mind.
Seven
J
ude leaned forward on his stool, arm sweeping bold, angry strokes across the canvas.
“Jude, are you attacking that thing or painting?” Somewhere in front of him, Tamara wiggled on her mound of pillows. He felt her curious stare, heard the concern hidden behind the humor in her voice.
“Damned if I know.” Frustrated, he set aside his brush. “This isn’t working.”
“Can I help?”
“I don’t think so.” He hung his head, blowing out a frustrated breath. Today, she couldn’t hope to touch the darkness inside him, threatening to swallow him whole. Making love with Lily yesterday had earned him a brief and much-welcome reprieve. Last night, however, had brought horror to his dreams again.
Hold up—is that what Lily and I did? Made love?
As he tried to wrap his mind around that idea, slender arms snaked around his neck. Tamara pushed close, maneuvering to stand between his knees, pressed her breasts to his chest.
“Are you sure? I bet I can find a cure for that sad face,” she said, almost purring.
“I’m sure you could, but . . .”
Clever fingers unsnapped his cargo shorts, burrowed inside to grasp his cock. She kissed his jaw, rubbed against him like a cat, skillfully played with him. A nice buzz began in his groin and he became half-hard.
And then nothing. He couldn’t dredge up the desire to give her what she sought, and it wasn’t fair to drag her into the pit with his black mood. Gently, he disentangled himself and removed her questing hand from his shorts.
“Sorry, beautiful, I’m not good company and I’m sure not getting anything accomplished. Rain check?”
“If that’s what you want,” she said with a tinge of disappointment. “Call me?”
“Sure.”
Neither of them believed he would.
As soon as she dressed and left, he tossed aside the almost-completed nude she’d been posing for, grabbed a blank canvas, and let his demons loose.
He ditched the soft flesh and earth tones for tints of red and orange, shades of black. What he couldn’t see with his eyes, his mind saw clearly enough: rivers of blood, broken bodies, brain matter, vacant eyes.
The weight of a ghost rifle replaced the brush to fill his hands, familiar and terrible. As awful as the knowledge that he was capable of taking out his target from a mile away and vanishing before anyone was the wiser.
Is this what I am?
A killer? A monster?
Why is this happening to me?
Pressure built in his chest, constricting his lungs as he slashed at the canvas, too massive to contain. Pushing outward, crushing him, until the rage exploded.
“
Why?
” he bellowed.
Grabbing the wooden frame, he smashed the canvas over the easel and kicked it, sending the whole structure flying. He whirled, subjecting his table full of paints, brushes, palettes, and thinners to the same treatment. They hit the floor with a resounding crash, which served only to fuel the madness rather than abating it.
Yelling his despair, he lunged toward the models’ stage area, searching for something else to destroy. Just as his life had been destroyed. His entire world.
He tripped over a chair, righted himself, picked the fucking thing up, and hurled it as hard as he could. Glass shattered in a huge, satisfying crash, but it still wasn’t enough.
He stalked toward the tinkling sound of falling glass, hardly aware of the sting on the soles of his feet. Intent only on finding something else to obliterate.
His foot snagged on something—a cord?—upsetting his balance. With his forward momentum, he couldn’t stop his fall. On reflex, he thrust his arms out in front of him as his body hurtled through jagged teeth that tore at his shirt, his skin. The air rushed from his lungs as he hit the ground hard and lay prone on the grass.
He was on his lawn? Which meant he’d taken out a section of the wall-to-ceiling glass in his studio. And plunged through the opening.
“My God, Jude!” Liam shouted. “What the fuck?”
He didn’t answer. Couldn’t think past the whirling cacophony in his head. The rage, the pain, that had nowhere to go.
Liam was crouched at his side in an instant, helping him to sit up. Strong arms encircled him from behind, hugging his chest. “Jesus Christ, what are you doing?”
“I don’t know.” He tried to breathe through the insanity, regain his balance. “There’s death all around me,
because
of me, and I can’t get away from it—”
“Easy, boss,” his friend whispered. “I’ve got you. They’re just nightmares, and you’re letting them get to you.”
He shook his head, clasped his trembling hands. “No. I think . . . maybe they’re real. I have a rifle in my hands, and I know how to kill. I’m good at it, damned good.”
Liam hugged him tighter. “Doesn’t necessarily mean anything. You’ve been through a terrible ordeal, and—”
“I’m a monster,” he said, almost too low to hear.
“What? No,” Liam countered fiercely. “You’re my best friend, the finest man I know.”
His voice broke. “There’s something wrong with me. I’ve done terrible things, maybe on those trips when I didn’t tell you where I was going.”
“I refuse to believe that.”
“Why didn’t I just die?” The plaintive question was out before he could stop it, but what did it matter? It was how he felt.
Liam scooted to face him, taking Jude’s cheeks in his hands. “Don’t ever say that again, do you hear me?”
The younger man’s lips moved against his, warm and pliant. Jude melted, a helpless sound escaping his throat. The turmoil inside eased as his friend swept his tongue into his mouth, deepening the kiss. This was what he needed right now, not some fling with a lover like Tamara, nice as she might be.
He needed someone to assuage the hurt in his soul, someone he really cared about, who cared for him in return. Liam was a lifeline, had been there for him these past four years.

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