Primal Force (7 page)

Sex, then gone. That she could handle.

She gave a little nod.

A smile jerked one corner of his mouth as he reached past Sam to wrap a fist around the thick shiny braid flipped across her shoulder. “Let me put this another way. I don't want a girlfriend. But I do, very badly, want to fuck you.”

Law watched her complexion catch fire, but she didn't look away. When his gaze lowered to her breasts, her nipples pebbled as if he had actually touched them. He suspected if he reached into her pants he'd find her wet and warm with anticipation. But lust wasn't the same thing as accepting what he had said.

“Tell me this is what you want.”

Jori frowned at him. Why was he giving her warnings? Couldn't he tell she was so ready for him she was about to burst into flames? Maybe not.

She reached across the space between them, tangled her fingers in his beard, and tugged. “You promised me sex. So shut up and put out.”

His laughter startled her. At most she would have expected something dry and mirthless from him, as if dust had collected on his humor. But this was a belly laugh, full and rich, and sexy as hell.

Law reached for her hand to guide it down to a hands-on demonstration of his interest. But Sam suddenly sat up and shoved her curly head into his face, blocking the move.

Pushing the pooch's head aside, he gave Jori a glance that made her thighs clench together. “Let's do this.”

Once inside her door, he didn't give her a chance to even turn on a light. He took her by the shoulders, spun her around so she faced him, then back-walked her up against the nearest wall and kissed her.

Law had never been much for kissing. It was just the opening move for sex. But kissing Jori was different. Like potato chips, one of her kisses was not enough.

Heat slid through Jori as his hand slid up and grasped the braid at her nape to hold her still under the assault of his mouth. He kissed the way he did everything else, full-on, hard-charging. With no possibility of retreat. More than that, he kissed like a man with a hunger he couldn't quite control. A little rough and eager.

That was okay. She had an appetite of her own to satisfy. She reached up and fisted the thick hair at the back of his head with both hands to pull him closer.

She'd never kissed a man with a beard. It was a warm soft surprise that contradicted his hard-ass outside. He tasted clean and sexy and male.

She wanted to kiss him until she was saturated with his taste and smell and feel. Yet the world was spinning too fast for her to stay balanced. Her knees began to shake, her thighs loosening with anticipation.

Law was not about to move even an inch away. He wanted her to be much
much
closer. He moved a hand from her waist down her back. His hand traveled over the fabric that covered her hips until he cupped it under her butt. Then he pressed her hard against his throbbing groin, dry-humping her like a teenager for the sheer pleasure of it.

Jori's hands moved to his shoulders and gripped hard. He had worked her shirt up so that she felt cool air against her bare midriff. Then he grasped her with both hands just above her waist. His thumbs massaged her ribs just below the cups of her bra, then slipped up into the spaces left as she gasped in response to his touch. Once inside, his thumbs skimmed the soft undercurves of her breasts.

His kisses went roaming, leaving her mouth to trail across her cheek, whiskers tickling her, until he reached her ear. He sighed into it and then licked the center.

Jori jumped in shock at the touch of that warm wet tongue. But his hands were moving again, skimming her shirt up and over her head.

Law stepped back a little to better see what he had revealed. One of his slightly abrasive fingers skimmed along the top of her bra from side to side, then hooked into the low point. Grinning, he drew her in by it and kissed her, hard and quick before releasing her.

“Turn around.”

When she had, bracing her hands against the wall, Jori felt him move in behind her until the proof of his interest in the main event was pressing into her backside. His hands slid up her back until they could work the hooks of her bra.

It surprised her that he didn't just jerk them open in his eagerness to see what lay beneath. Instead, he took his time, releasing each hook separately, as if each were a little present not to be missed. It was an excruciating tease as he paused after the second hook to run a finger under one strap and then the other, lifting them up and sliding each off the curve of her shoulders to hang loose along her arms. It was a delicate act for so powerful a man and it made her aware that he was enjoying this as much as she was. Finally, he unhooked the last catch.

She caught the bra against herself. His hands went about her waist once more but he didn't turn her around. The shock of his tongue, warm and sinuous between her shoulder blades, made her gasp. Her nipples beaded up behind her hands as he slowly traced her spine with his tongue. No man had ever done anything quite like that, so simple yet so intimate, as if he was enjoying her whole body. Not just eager for the main attraction.

The shocking heat of her own arousal melted her knees. In another second she'd be sliding toward the floor. But he seemed to sense that weakness and quickly spun her around. When she faced him, she dropped her hands, watching his face as the bra straps sailed down her arms and off her fingertips.

He stilled, the features of his face rigid as he looked his fill.

When his eyes came back to hers, Jori held his simmering stare. The intensity of that serious golden gaze weighed like sunshine on her face. In response, a bead of sweat worked its way down between her breasts, trembling with each breath she took. She closed her eyes, the better to pretend that it was Battise's tongue tracing that damp trail down her torso. The thought made her arch her back and take a deep breath, which thrust her breasts forward. Slowly, she let it out between parted lips.

Watching that slick of sweat surf her cleavage, Law's mouth went dry and then flooded back, so that he had to swallow before he could breathe. Unable to resist, he leaned forward to catch the salty drop on his tongue just before it reached her belly button. The knot in his cock doubled down.

With a rough groan of intent, he stripped off his shirt, tossed it aside, and reached for her with both hands.

But Jori moved to hold him away with a palm flat against his sternum. It was her turn to look. He went still as stone, his expression again as guarded as it had been every other time they'd gazed at each other. She held that daunting expression a beat and then lowered her gaze.

He was beautifully made. Powerful shoulders flowed into smoothly sculptured pecs beneath a trace of dark hair. The ripples of his abs were like the pattern water made on a beach as the tide ebbed. Besides the unusual tattoo circling his left biceps—something she wanted to ask about but didn't dare—there were other markings. Things that made her breath hiss inward between parted lips.

A scattering of scars, some smooth and others puckered, marred the perfection of his lower torso. The scar she'd seen from the back that morning in the parking lot now revealed itself as wrapping forward over his left hip before disappearing into the pants riding low on his hips. There was a patch of skin grafting the size of her palm to the left of his belly button. Heavier scars disappeared into the waistband.

She blinked twice before lifting a misty troubled gaze to his. The
keep out
sign was back in his eyes.

“The scars bother you?”

“Of course.” Jori wanted to touch but his expression revoked her permission. “You've suffered so much.”

“That was long ago.” He said the words carefully, but the rough edge of those last words told her that
long ago
still occasionally roared back with disturbing clarity. Samantha was proof of that.

He back-stepped, palms going up in surrender. “If you find me ugly—”

“No!” She took a step toward him, but he backed up again.

His lids shuddered down. “My equipment's all original and in working order. If that's what's worrying you.”

“It's not that, either.” Gazing at his torso, the push of tenderness, sorrow, and desire to make it better welled up in her.

She approached again. This time, he didn't retreat as she reached out and ran a finger lightly over one of the scars. She felt a heavy tremor roll through him and knew it was costing him a lot to be inspected this way. That wariness was too much for her to respond to with mere words. Easier to just lean in and press her mouth to the scar at the top of his rib cage. His skin was warm, no, hot to the touch beneath her lips.

He took her by the shoulders, lifting her away from his body. Then a hand came up, forcing her chin to rise so that he could look her full in the face. “I don't need pity.”

“You don't have it.”

“Are you sure?”

Jori smiled and reached for his belt with both hands. “Aren't you?”

Something like humor flickered in his sludge-gold gaze. “All right then.”

When she surged in against him, all heat and womanly curves and hunger, and eager moving hands, Law gave up any scruples about what they were doing.

She unbuckled him and then slid down his zipper. That little zipping sound was the most erotic thing he'd heard in months. No, it was the yummy sound she expelled into his open mouth when she reached in and released his cock.

Well, hell.
He wasn't going to be able to be gentlemanly about their first time after all.

He grabbed her arms, lifting them back against the wall and pushing her body flat with the power of his. “I'd love to do you right here but it's not practical for me.”

She smiled at him, laying her arms about his neck. “I do have a bed.”

He grinned.

They entered the bedroom to be greeted by a hissing and spitting ball of black, white, and orange fur dancing sideways across the middle of the bed.

Until that moment, Jori had completely forgotten about the fact that Samantha was with them. And that her kitten, Argyle, wouldn't necessarily be happy about that fact.

Argyle's tail stood straight up and bristling, her kitten body like a McDonald's arch, every whisker stiff with rage at the intruder who came and rested her doggy head on the coverlet.

Law looked back at Jori. “Friend of yours?”

“Yes.” Jori scooped Argyle off the bed. She cuddled the kitten in the curve of her arm as she stroked her. “Now, Argyle, you've seen a dog before.” She walked slowly over to Sam and bent down. “Sam, this is Argyle. Argyle, this is Samantha.”

The kitten shrank in her arms for a second then poked her head out and batted at the dog's nose with a paw. Jori noticed she hadn't used her claws.

Samantha calmly accepted the feline inspection. Just added a whiff of kitten to her collection of identification smells of things in the world.

“That's right. Sam is a friend.” Jori patted Samantha. “You two play nice.”

“Somewhere else.” Jori looked up to see Law pointing toward the doorway. “All nonessential personnel out. Now.”

Offended, Argyle let out a loud
mee
-now a whole octave higher than usual before leaping from Jori's arms and disappearing through the doorway.

Sam glanced at Law, who gave her the
go out
sign. With what Jori would swear was a doggy sigh of exasperation, the goldendoodle exited the bedroom at a more cautious pace.

Law quickly closed the door behind the pair. “Now, where were we?”

Jori pointed to the bed. “Almost there.” Her voice sounded calm but she was looking at his erection with eyes wide. His pants were splayed open, and his thick rigid cock was arching out of the opening. And she had very hungry eyes. Maybe they were a little too bright?

“How long has it been for you?”

Embarrassed, she glanced up at the water spot on the ceiling of her cheap apartment. “Four years.”

“Four—?” She was practically a virgin again after all this time.

Unless she'd gotten freaky inside.

“You still prefer dick to pussy?”

Shocked by his crudeness, Jori jerked her gaze back to him. Right, why should he be any different? All ex-cons must be lesbians. It was one of the clichés everyone wanted to believe about incarcerated women. Her armor of emotional distance clanked into place. “What's the matter? Worried I might disappoint you?”

“Just the opposite.”

Jori studied his expression to see if he was baiting her. He looked completely serious. And a little uncomfortable. “If you've changed your—”

He was on her in a flash, a wall of warm smooth skin covering muscle and bad intentions. “I don't give a rat's ass about anything before now. I want to fuck you, bad. Do you still want to fuck me?”

A flush warmed her neck at his language. Like him, it was direct and to the point. No flowers. No easing into the moment. Just the bald honesty of his erection pressing into her belly.

“Say something, Jori.” The demand, whispered into her ear, made her belly quiver and her sex tighten in delicious anticipation.

She smiled. Battise was asking permission, even if it sounded like a command. So his style. She could be as direct.

In answer she reached down between them and fisted him. He was hot and hard and trembling with the need for action. As he groaned in pleasure she took advantage, pumping him a little just to make certain he knew he wasn't the only one with control. “No more talk.”

Within moments they were entangled on the bed. Law had a new directive in his head:
Do this right. For her.

He took advantage of her prone position to trail his fingers down her arms and cover her breasts. Lifting them to his lips, he took a nipple between his teeth, tugging and licking first one and then the other. He loved the way she squirmed under him. No doubt his whiskers tickled her as he whisked his beard lightly back and forth over her tender nipples. She was moaning low. Maybe he was hurting her. But she grabbed handfuls of his hair to hold him in place when he lifted his head to check. Her eyes were tightly shut, her mouth slightly open. The sight was even more erotic than the sound of his zipper being lowered by her. His cock was weeping with need, and they hadn't even gotten past second base. But that was about to change.