The Mistress Mistake (18 page)

The seconds ticked by, and the silence in the
bedroom became deafening, the tick of a clock resonating loudly,
underlining the absence of any other sound in the room. As the
moment wore on and it became apparent he wouldn't answer her,
heartache joined the arousal bleeding through her veins, and she
wanted more than anything to soothe away the tormented look in his
eyes. As he stood in silence, she almost gave in to him; she knew
she was only seconds away from coming to her knees and lifting her
shirt over her head. She wanted to say, 'never mind', and take away
the condition she'd put on the gift of her body.

But she never got the chance.

His eyes fell back on her, and the menacing
accusation she read in them rendered her completely still. His
shoulders stiffened and his muscles became like sinewy bands of
steel. Fire smoldered in his eyes and his stance became one of iron
control. His voice when he spoke was primal, his intentions coming
out loud and clear. "Leave the fucking shirt on, then."

Connor was on Jessica in a second, pulling
the pillow away from her body and throwing it violently across the
room. He flipped her over with a punishing move that took her by
surprise and landed her on her stomach. It had the opposite effect
on her than when he did the same thing weeks ago. The arousal that
had stayed under the surface came over Jessica in a wave of longing
so fast and hard that she mewled into the mattress. She heard an
answering growl come from his throat as he wrapped his arm around
her waist and jerked her up to her knees.

Currents of sensation slammed her down low,
and she felt moisture between her thighs. He pushed her knees apart
and came between them, pushing so close that she felt completely
dominated by his much larger body. He was so much bigger than she
was, and he was using his size to control her now.

She should hate it, she really should. But
she couldn't. She waited restlessly for the moment he'd sink into
her, dying to feel that exact moment when he'd stretch her and push
past the restrictive tightness of her body until she felt his
fullness completely.

Her heart beating wildly, she felt him push
that first inch inside of her--but then he stalled. His torso came
forward and covered her, his head fell to the side of hers and he
hissed in her ear, "You want it, Jessica?"

Her breath hitched and she tried to push up
and backwards, tried to grip him between her legs so he'd sink
further inside of her. But she couldn't, he was holding her with
one arm wrapped around her waist and it felt like a band of steel.
He controlled her every movement and denied her the ability to even
so much as rock her hips toward him.

"Answer me. Do. You. Want. It?"

"Yes," she begged on a whisper.

He pushed another inch inside and loosened
his arm just enough so she could have at least some slight
movement. She pushed against him and began panting. She was aware
of his breathing as it became louder, next to her ear.

And then he stopped again. His arm around her
middle moved down and his hand snaked lower and landed on her clit.
He pushed his erection all the way inside of her with one smooth,
relentless thrust and then he began rubbing her clit in circles
with steady strokes of his fingers. Intoxicating pleasure rushed
through her. He pinched and pulled at the small nub in a movement
he repeated until she began splintering underneath him. She
screamed out her orgasm, and he let her milk it for a few long
seconds before pulling out of her and flipping her over to her
back.

He shoved back between her thighs, and then
lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist. Threading his
fingers into her hair, he lifted her face and as his eyes tangled
with hers, began sinking inside of her once more.

His eyes continued to hold hers, and when he
was completely impaled within her body, his gaze dropped to her
lips. His eyelids closed, and then opened again, his eyes on hers
again, as his body remained still. His voice when he spoke was
tortured. "You don't have a clue what you do to me . . . not a
fucking clue how bad I want you."

For a moment, Jessica saw into his soul, and
she knew that however they had started off, it wasn't that way
between them any longer.

She was trapped underneath him, but her hands
were free, and suddenly, she knew what she wanted to do. It was
only a small thing really, but in this moment, she wanted to ease
his torment however she could.

Her hands landed on the hem of her shirt and
she began wriggling underneath him. It took a moment to get through
to him that she wanted him to lift up and when he raised himself an
inch, it was all the leeway she needed to slide the shirt up and
over her head.

Jessica tossed the shirt away, and when she
turned back, his nostrils were flaring and his eyes were narrowed
on hers. She expected him to focus on her breasts immediately, but
he didn't. His hands wrapped around her face, staring down at her,
and he began moving his hips, slowly at first, pushing into her and
pulling out again, over and over, all the while, staring into her
eyes.

It was an intimate act, the closest she'd
ever felt to another human being, and the breath jerked from her
lungs. Just when she thought she'd have to close her eyes against
the intensity, his mouth dropped to hers and he began kissing her,
softly, repeatedly, over and over again.

Finally, she had to turn her head away to
draw oxygen into her lungs, and when she did, he slid down and
fastened his mouth on her nipple. Rasping her with his tongue, he
moved his head from one nipple to the next until they formed tight,
pointed peaks and desire, hot and brilliant, flooded through her
pelvis once again.

He took one breast into his hand and held it,
running his fingers over the tip, and then palming it completely.
His mouth on her other breast blew wet heat across her nipple, and
then moved to the white flesh above it. He began sucking her there,
and his mouth was hot and forceful, as he used his lips and tongue
on her.

The combination of that and the tight grip he
held on her other nipple was relentless and she began lifting her
hips, answering back against the thrusts he was taking.

Once again, orgasm washed over her, hot and
hard, and the pleasure was intense as it screamed through her body.
She heard her voice, high pitched and raspy, as if from a distance,
and then she felt him push hard against her and hold himself there,
and in the back of her mind, beyond all the pleasure, beyond the
intimacy, she knew they were coming together.

****

It was late, and they slept the rest of the
night, entwined together. And in the morning, Jessica left him
sleeping in the bed and went to retrieve her backpack where he'd
dropped it the night before.

She walked back to the bathroom, intending to
have a quick shower before he woke up. Shutting the door behind
her, she turned and faced the mirror, and looked at her hair, which
was a tangled mess. Her eyes dropped down her naked body, and what
she saw there made her heart lose a beat before it began slamming
in her chest once again.

He'd marked her!
And not just a small
purple area where he'd left a hickey. The top of her right breast
was covered in dark red bruises. All over, from her nipple up to
the top swell of her breast, he'd covered her in red and purple
hickeys.

She walked closer to the mirror and touched
herself lightly. It didn't hurt, but she didn't know how she felt
about it. She'd never dated much, if at all, and she wondered at
the whole reason behind what he'd done. The only experience she'd
had with a hickey was the one time she'd been about fifteen and she
and a bunch of her girlfriends had met some boys at the movies and
they'd paired up on the back row. The boy she'd kissed that night
had left a hickey on her neck, and it was the only one she'd ever
received until now.

Of course, in high school, she
saw
hickeys all the time, on both guys and girls. But it was always on
the neck, and it had never occurred to her that a man would put a
mark on a woman somewhere that no one else would be able to see
it.

It also amazed her that she hadn't known he
was doing it. She remembered having a vague awareness that he was
sucking on her breast, but the way he was doing it, and the other
things that were happening kept her mind from focusing solely on
his mouth at her breast.

But he had to have done this on purpose. As
she showered, she tried to figure out the puzzle. She knew it had
to be because she'd denied him her breasts for so long, and this
had to be a reminder to her that she had given them to him, that
they were now his. She felt a slow slide of pleasure at the
knowledge.

Finishing her shower, she wrapped her wet
hair in a towel and slipped clean clothes from her backpack. She
was supposed to start her job on Monday, so that left only today
and tomorrow to figure out what she was going to say to him. She
had to tell Connor about the job, at the very least, because she
had to get back to Richardson and her apartment, which was so much
closer to the grocery store. He'd have to go to work on Monday,
anyway.

She brushed her teeth and worked the tangles
out of her hair, and then finished up with a moisturizer on her
skin. She walked out of the bathroom and looked over at the bed,
and found him lying on his side with his head propped up on his
hand, looking directly at her.

His features were harsh and compelling in the
morning light, and the unbidden image of what he'd done to her
breast and the way he was looking at her now sent a sizzle of raw
attraction down her spine.

But she didn't want to get back in that bed
with him right now. By the looks of him, that was exactly what he
wanted, but his persuasion was something she felt the need to fight
against for the moment. She wanted to reclaim some small part of
herself this morning, and his bed was definitely not the place to
do that.

She felt a shiver of gooseflesh over her skin
as she arrowed a small smile in his direction and then began to
walk from the room.

"Where do you think you're going?" His voice,
even deeper than usual first thing in the morning, halted her in
the doorway of the bedroom.

Turning to look over her shoulder, she said
as casually as she could manage, "I'm going to check out your
house." And then she continued out of the bedroom, making her
escape from him, at least momentarily.

****

The house was all on one level, a split floor
plan with the master on one side and three smaller bedrooms on the
other. It was an executive home, with all the space and amenities
one could expect. It was divided in the middle by a great room,
with soaring ceilings and a wall of windows that looked over an
enormous backyard with a gorgeous swimming pool and spa--and the
obvious reason Connor had told her to bring her swimsuit. Jessica
slipped outside to explore the yard. The pool contained a water
feature, a rock waterfall that added to the beauty of the yard, and
it was all enclosed within a six-foot high wooden fence.

The lot the home was situated on was at least
a half an acre and adjacent to what appeared to be a wooded walking
trail, from what Jessica could see by peeking through two slats in
the fencing. So Connor had no back neighbors, only trees and an
amazing place to go either running or biking, directly through a
gate in his back fence.

The backyard was beautiful and well
maintained, every inch of it landscaped, and Jessica loved it
immediately. The house, on the other hand, was sparsely decorated.
As she walked back inside, it was obvious it hadn't been decorated
at all, but the features of the home itself were more than pleasing
to the eye. With its soaring ceilings, the crown molding and
recessed ceilings were shown to an advantage. The floors were wood
everywhere except the bedrooms, which were carpeted, and the
ceiling fans and fixtures were antiqued bronze. The kitchen
contained black granite countertops that segued beautifully into a
mottled tan backsplash. The paint in the home was bold, the walls a
light tan color highlighted with pure white molding at the top,
setting off the ceilings that were painted in a darker, warmer
shade than the walls, and had the designer effect of making the
rooms appear even larger. The construction of the house and the
detail inside looked new and impossibly up-to-date and all it
needed was the finishing decorator touch.

But either Connor wasn't interested in any of
that, or he'd only very recently moved in, which was probable
considering the number of stacked boxes she remembered seeing in
the garage.

As she stood in the middle of the beautiful,
almost empty kitchen, her inborn femininity couldn't help but
imagine what she'd do to it if it were her kitchen. She looked
around, turning in a complete circle, and almost jumped with fright
when she saw Connor leaning against the center island, watching her
quietly, dressed only in a pair of disreputable cargo shorts. When
their eyes locked, he showed no emotion, and other than raising one
dark eyebrow in question, he made no comment.

She declined to comment as well, and simply
stood and watched as he moved around the kitchen and prepared what
looked to be some kind of a protein shake. As he took the first
drink, he motioned to a closed door in the corner of the room.
Jessica walked over and opened it, fully expecting a food pantry
and finding exactly that. "I'm not much on a big breakfast, but you
can help yourself to whatever you want," he drawled in a deep,
raspy morning-voice.

The pantry was stocked with many
non-perishable items, as well as protein bars, granola bars and a
lot of food that could be eaten quickly, without even the benefit
of a microwave oven. She chose a granola bar and poured herself a
glass of water, since she didn't see any soft drinks of the diet
variety.