Wait for Me (7 page)

Is that for me? The mattress dipped under her weight sprawling back over the spread. Whatever he’d dealt with downstairs was riding him hard now. He came to her for solace, relief and she would give it to him. She’d almost missed the pleasure in his tense stare when she raised her knees and caught a slight lift to the corner of his mouth. She teased her foot along the hard bulge in his trousers caressing the length with her toes. The stiff erection pushed at her foot. She rested on her elbow, planting both feet on the bed and crooked a finger in his direction. 

Take the panties off; baby was what she imagined his ragged heartbeat thumped out under his heaving chest. She’d never taken off panties so fast in her life. They hung from her one ankle before he snatched them off tossing the thin material across the room. Her flesh puckered under the man before her, his raw appraisal in his eyes seemed to lead his body closer. The trousers hit the floor along with the briefs. Her body began to pulse, craving his touch, eager for the length to be buried deep inside her. Caught in the near delirium of Jonathan’s need for her attention, Kenya could feel the promise of his caress moving along her thigh before he even touched her giving her goose bumps.

Deft fingers played over her swollen sex pinching the sensitive folds rolling, Jonathan roll it with enough pressure between the pads of his fingers to make Kenya purr. The mere touch lifted her back off the bed greedy for something bigger than his fingers.

Kenya blew out a breath, feeling them slip deep within her, her inner muscles welcoming ever inch. Biting her lip, she watched him crawl up over her stomach. Closing his fingers over the butterfly clasp of her bra releasing her breasts to bounced under his knuckles. The fine material clung to her nipples standing tall. She brought her hand up to his face brushing a thumb over his bottom lip.

“Touch me,” Kenya urged in a whisper.

Thinking he would suckle her breast, she closed her eyes waiting to feel the heat of his mouth instead she slapped a hand out as two fingers pushed deeper into her sex making wide circles until she dropped her legs out wide. Panting, Kenya gripped the covers in her fist while working her sex against his fingers. A climax hit with just a few strokes. She writhed clamping her thighs together his fingers still between her legs.

“Jonathan,” came out on a rasping breath.

Wanting more, clutching his hair, she led him up her body. He found her breasts licking hot wet circles around her sensitive buds. Jonathan held her gaze and she watched him bit his lip. He wiggled his hips pushed into her smooth and easy. Kenya’s mouth fell slack at the full pressure of him filling her completely. Kenya gripped the thick bedspread in her fist.

Those eyes found her again, began to sing, making her body dance to a rhythm only they could hear. Jonathan’s face never changed as he entered her, slow, controlled, elbows on the bed eyes trained on hers chest crushing her to the bed. Kenya could hardly breathe, but he was drowning in something she had no name for, but would swim out to save him or drown trying.

His hips dipping in and out of her body, stroking, and coaxing it to open, expanding around him. He grasped her legs pushed her knees tight to her breast until her ankles rested on his shoulders. Her mouth went slack as his intense stare trained solely on her, as if they were searching her soul through her eyes. The position accommodated both his girth and thrusts. Fire burned in his eyes inches from hers, burning with something, she couldn’t name and it scared her she may not wanna know. She cupped the backs of his muscled pecs under the pummeling rhythm of his body over hers. The backs of her thighs tickled under the soft hairs on his chest. It tightened her heart for this man reaching for her with each stroke, each breath, and each blink. Eyes so beautiful, so present, and so focused. Her heart cried waiting for him to be taken away for a second…behind one blink. 

Voice tight with emotion, she said, “I’m right here, you’re friend, your woman…its okay, honey.” Stroking his face, Kenya braced her breast jiggling under his rough flexing hips. Biting her lip, she squeezed her brows together. He approached her pain threshold his strong thighs slamming against her body.

Hooking her heels over his back, hard muscles working his back and hips in a rhythm certain to have her screaming soon, she held him to her as he began whispering gently into her mouth a kiss away.

“You take me to a calmer place, Kenya,” Jonathan shifted his hips, sucking in a breath his hands pinning hers above her head. Arching her neck back, Jonathan’s mouth slid from her’s burrowing into her skin. Slow drugging kisses, moans, tongue licking up her ear, the man covered her entire body in his heat.

Slick and swollen, Kenya placed her feet on the bed pushing her hips into him, got him to change his rhythm. A cry burst from her throat, Jonathan changed angles, rolled them on their sides, pushing him past deep, into, oh shit, weaving their legs together. Kenya jerked, going into shock with Jonathan’s hips grinding inside her, his sex finding every corner it could, stroking it down pushing another orgasm from her body. Tight and forced he surged into her. 

Her climax hit, his hands digging into her behind holding her to him as he thrusts into her body making it convulsed. Close to praying, Kenya shouted when Jonathan stiffened, calves locked around her legs. He threw his head back; hot liquid filled her body. Cursing, he called her name loud enough to echo the halls of the castle. It rocked her body. Jonathan, an estate all by himself and he just drew a mote around her heart.

Chapter Four

Jonathan propped a shoe against the brass footrest skirting the bar in the pub. Kenya by his side perched on a bar stool he stood taking in the room. Pictures scattered around the walls of family and friends through the years held warmer memories than they had before Kenya. She’d brought a light to his world, making the smalls things in life worth the effort. Closing a hand over the nape of her neck he massaged absently. She leaned back the sweet scent of her hair filled his nostrils and he brushed a kiss over the shell of her ear.

“Hungry?” he asked lifting a menu from the rack on the bar, flipping to the back where the sandwiches were listed.

“I can wait until you show me around the estate,” Kenya replied swiveling the stool around to face him. Fingers threaded together she placed them in her lap.

“Then we’ll eat with the family. Here they come now.”

“
Cion.”
Jonathan pushed away from the bar at his grandmother’s greeting.

“
Cion, Mo ghra fior.”
Taking Gretchen into his embrace, Jonathan angled her toward Kenya. “Gran, meet Kenya Claiborne.”

“Hello, Mrs. Blakemore,” Kenya turned, offering her extended hand. Air in the pub tightened behind his grandmother’s curious stare on Kenya. Her body tensed. Everyone’s desire for an Irish woman wore not only on his nerves but Kenya’s too. 

Gretchen Blakemore set her hand hard against his face, almost a smack, her greeting since he was a boy. “She is glowing from your touch, she is more than…young man.” She stroked a hand through Kenya’s thick hair. Kenya gave him hard eyes when Gretchen held her chin with her weathered fingers, rubbing her thumb over Kenya’s smooth cheek. “Tell me again who this woman is, and doona lie to me. She carried your scent in her beautiful hair.” She smiled at Kenya.

Kenya kept her gaze locked on him, frustrated.

“Gretchen Blakemore, this is Kenya Claiborne, my lady friend.” Jonathan watched Kenya as his grandmother pulled her from the stool and across the room, Kenya eyeing him over her shoulder, pressing a hand over her skirt.

“Come with me, young lady,” she directed.

Jonathan propped an elbow on the polished bar top and watched his woman going to be questioned. It was Blakemore way.

“Think Kenya’ll stay after Gran inspects her?” Jamie questioned, sipping his beer.

Jonathan knew Kenya was strong enough to handle his Gran. “She doesn’t frighten easily. How are things going for you, cousin?” He asked before downing the last of his beer. Finished, he place the empty glass into a copper sink over the back side of the bar. “Where’s the young lady you were seeing? Brianna?”

Jamie slugged down the remainder of his golden brew. “Married to some bloke from Dublin. Gran scared her off.”

Jonathan shot a glance at the door Kenya had been stolen behind, knowing she’d be grilled. Nothing could be done; before he set his mind to this woman he needed to know she was genuine. “She’ll be okay,” he assured turning to Jamie. “What’s going on with the estate?”

“Since you were here last—a few weeks ago?” Jamie snorted. Both eyed the patrons lining the wall of the pub. Jonathan had read the short investigation story in the paper about Graham, their accountant, going missing. It buzzed through the pub for weeks but since had died down. Even the man’s family hadn’t heard from him. Jonathan knew that’s what Morgan had shown Kenya. The report only showed him as being the last person to see Graham alive and that the man worked for his family. That had been over a month ago. Graham was in hiding somewhere. Eventually he’d surface and Jonathan would make him pay for stealing the money from the account. He shot a glance at the door across the room. Catching his concerns, Jamie patted him on the back consolingly. Women were important to this family and not everyone would be accepting of his choice of girlfriend or if she became more. He had other things to take care of.

“Brian’s been putting the word out that the estate would be all Blakemore soon. He’s even been taking bids on land partials.”

“Since my last visit?”

Jamie nodded.

“The week after the ski trip, I put Fiona on the plane myself. We were going over the schedule for blasting the tunnels in the mountains. Creating rental caves for hikers is better than having them camped out close to the castle. It’ll bring in extra income as well,” Jonathan said scratching his brow. “When did Fiona come back?” He asked searching the faces filling the pub looking for anyone that might suggest they were one of Brian’s men. 

“She went to Africa then back to the States. Trying to bridge the retail gap between our two countries she went by an invitation from another hotel in Kenya. Fiona said you told her last month to handle things.”

“You believed that, Jamie?” he balked. “Fiona’s against foreigners living in the estate.”

“Nae, but you placed her in charge of the estate in ye absence. She’s gone on several trips lately to America, coincidentally, South Africa, Kenya and even Italy. I have me affairs to look after for the family. And the financial firm consumes most of my days. There’s an American company coming next week looking to extend their program for children into our local schools. They’re getting local companies to invest. I wanna look into it. It could go a long way in rebuilding our name with the locals.”

“Make certain I get a copy of your meeting. I’m on board if it’ll help the kids.”

Jamie nodded. Tossing back the rest of his drink, he moved to the other side of Jonathan and grabbed a handful of pretzels from the bar. “About Fiona…Move back to Ireland, it’s your estate Jonathan,” Jamie said. “You have a woman now. Get your affairs in the States in order and move back home where you belong.”

That made no sense; Fiona had always contacted him when she came to the states. 

“I’m taking Kenya for a walk around the grounds. I’ll check on the vault while I’m out. Tomorrow I’ll see the farmers and this new bank the accountant set up.”

“You speak so civilized. Kenya doesn’t know, does she, cousin?”

He’d toned down his ways afraid he’d scare her off in the States. The woman was delicate with the heart of a highland woman. He needed to ease his world on her not stun her into hiding.

He touched Jamie’s shoulder. “She questioned me about being Irish mafia.”

“Brave girl. You detest that stereotype.” Together they looked up as Kenya and his Gran left the room. His eyes trailed her supple hips swaying under the soft, brown dress as she maneuvered around the round tables, supporting Gretchen by the arm. His woman was beautiful. She was his woman. No one would take her from him. Fiona would have to get over her dislike for Kenya because he wasn’t about to give her up.

Arms out, Jonathan closed them around Kenya’s feminine curves molding into his body, surprised by her gentle kiss, her tongue slipped between his lips her deepening the kiss. Moving his hands easily over her hips, he held her to him and returned the welcome. What went on in the room? When she eased back running her fingers against his chest over the sweater, the pinched skin between her eyes said it hadn’t been a pleasant meeting with Gran. What had his Gran told her? He lost the question when she made her preference known publicly. Kenya stepped into him. Her upturned face invited him to take her mouth and he did in a slow warm caress. Licking between her parted lips he swept the bowl of her mouth, tilting her head back he moved closer not caring that they weren’t alone. Sucking her bottom lip he let it slip from his mouth to catch his breath.

“Oh yeah?” he teased.

“Oh yeah,” she returned a touch, sad, and that bothered him that his family was doing this to his woman. “I want to be here with you and for you. Regardless of whatever everyone else thinks about why I’m here. I’m tired of being looked upon as if I’m here for whatever all this is,” waving her hand in the air, “Jonathan I don’t want your money or your status or whatever else is going on here. As long as you believe that, I’ll stay. Soon as you start questioning why I’m here, I’m back on a plane for the States.”

“You’ve already shown me why you’re here. Everyone else just wants what’s best for the family. I wish I could say it won’t happen again, but this is what it means to date someone in my position.”

“I understand them wanting what’s best for you and if this were my uncles they’d take you for a drive through the country. Threatening to hurt you if I turned up pregnant or you looked at me sideways.” He leaned back eyeing her. Kenya shrugged. “It’s a part of the black family ritual to torture any man looking at the woman in the family. Don’t look at me like that, every family has its quirks.”