Wild Card (5 page)

He just grinned smugly and disappeared through the door, apparently unconcerned with his lack of clothing.

Ginny dropped her robe at the foot of the bed and climbed up under the covers naked. “I’m not bothering with a nightgown,” she called out. “So you’ll have to keep me warm.”

His chuckle floated back up to her. “I thought you wanted to be able to sit a horse tomorrow.”

It suddenly seemed less important than spending the night with Jack’s naked body pressed against hers. “What’s a few head of cattle here and there?”

She heard another laugh, followed by the quiet sounds of him moving about in her small kitchen.

She knew exactly when he came to the door, but he said nothing and didn’t cross the room. Finally, she raised her head. “Will you quit staring and come to bed?”

“What can I say?” He smiled as he stepped over the threshold. “The view was nice, even with all the blankets.”

Ginny drew back the covers and grinned as she admired him. “If you want to sleep tonight, stop wandering around my house buck naked.”

His smile shifted to a wicked grin as he obeyed and slipped into the bed next to her. One arm wrapped around her waist and tugged her firmly back against him. “You think being naked in your bed is liable to make me more sleepy?”

She snuggled against him and reached back with one hand to stroke his thigh. “I think it could, if we keep our hands to ourselves.”

He smacked her hip lightly. “You want to be so sore that Ollie has to ask why you’re riding funny tomorrow?”

“We both heal quickly.” After rolling to face Jack, Ginny bit his chin. “I’m a little more worried about exhaustion.”

“As well you should be. And not just yours. I’m not twenty anymore, woman.”

“Mmm, me neither.” Her face nestled against his neck and her limbs tangled with his, and sleep beckoned. “’Night, Jack.”

The last thing she felt were his strong fingers drifting through her hair as he held her close to him. “Good night, Ginny.”

Chapter Three

Jack awoke the next morning alone in Ginny’s bed. He could hear her downstairs, along with the clatter of the cast-iron stove. He rose with a smile and sought out his clothes, amused to find them folded neatly on a chair next to the bed.

He listened to her move about as he pulled on his clothing, opting to carry his gun belt in his hand as he started down the stairs. “I hope there’s coffee this morning,” he called as he reached the bottom step. “You wore me out.”

“Yes, there’s coffee,” Ginny laughed and pointed to an insulated carafe on the sideboard. “You like omelets?” She poked at a half-cooked one in a skillet and shot him a questioning look.

“Sure. Sounds good.” He dropped his belt over the back of the chair and crossed the kitchen to stand at her back. Her hip felt good under his hand, the wicked flare a reminder of the night before and how well it had fit his fingers as he’d pulled her into every thrust. The memory made his voice a little lower than usual as he leaned down to kiss the side of her neck. “Good morning.”

She lifted one hand to his face, then turned her head and smiled. “Good morning, Jack.”

He nuzzled his nose against her ear. “You must have been quiet.”

“Uh-huh.” She laughed again. “I wanted to let you sleep. I wore you out, right?”

His fingers tightened on her hip, and he tugged her back until her ass pressed against tight against his cock, which had hardened the moment he’d touched her. “Obviously not enough.”

Ginny sucked in a sharp breath and arched to rub against him. “Your breakfast is going to burn.”

“I burn my breakfast half the time anyway. I’m used to it.”

She moved the skillet to the back of the stove and turned in his arms. “I’m not, but… I could get used to it.” The words were almost shy, and his chest felt tight.

He lifted her up and turned to drop her carefully on the table. “If I was feeding you, sweetheart, I wouldn’t burn the eggs.”

“Mmm, I wasn’t talking about the eggs.” Ginny’s mouth trailed from his jaw to his ear.

It was exactly what he wanted to hear, but Ginny had been running shy far too long for him to get careless. He reached for the belt on her robe as he snuck his tongue around her earlobe. “I could get used to you getting used to this.”

She gasped and wrapped her long legs around his hips. “I like the way you think.”

She fumbled with his shirt. The belt on her robe fell open, and he paused to move her hands away. He didn’t bother with the buttons, just dragged his shirt over his head and dropped it to the floor. When he looked back at her, he found her watching him hungrily.

She caught his gaze and smiled slowly as she shrugged out of her robe. The silk fabric fluttered to the table, and she lay back, stretching out on top of it. “Good morning.”

The view was so entrancing he couldn’t quite believe his luck. His hand looked large and rough against the soft skin of her stomach. He brushed his fingers in a lazy circle around her belly button and fought the urge to howl his triumph. After all the years of watching and waiting, he had Ginny under his hands.

And he didn’t feel like letting her go anytime soon. “You going to be heartbroken if I take my time figuring out just how good my morning can get?”

She laughed. “I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Jack. You take your time.”

It was hard deciding where to start, but her lips were too tempting to resist. He braced his hands on either side of her head and leaned down until his lips hovered over hers. “Anything I want?”

Ginny’s sigh feathered over his mouth. “Anything you want.”

“Anything?” He bit her lower lip before giving in to the temptation to kiss her, swallowing any answer she might have given. He didn’t need words when he felt her enthusiasm in the touch of her body, in the way she arched into him, as though she couldn’t bear not to have his skin against hers.

She moaned into his mouth and bit him back. “Anything, Jack.”

His belt still lay over the back of a nearby chair, easily within reach. Jack pushed himself upright and watched her face as he reached out and caught the roughened leather. “Hold up your hands.”

Her breath hitched, but she complied wordlessly.

Jack slid the gun holsters from the belt and left them on the chair. Then he wrapped the leather around her wrists and tightened it just enough to hold them trapped together without being uncomfortable. “Put your hands over your head and leave them there. If you move, I’m going to find something to tie you to.”

Ginny made a soft noise and rubbed her hips against him. She kept her eyes fixed on his as she stretched her arms out over her head. “What do I do?”

“Hopefully? You come so hard you forget your name.”

Ginny began to ache as Jack stared down at her, talking about orgasms and looking at her like she was a juicy plum he was about to bite into. “And I can’t move my hands?”

“No.” The corner of his mouth ticked up as his palm came to rest on the curve of her hip. “Though maybe I shouldn’t be trusting you to listen. I saw how well that went last night.”

“Last night? Your punishments weren’t very discouraging.” Her skin heated at the memories. “If anything, you were forcing me to behave badly.”

He shrugged and reached up to tease around her nipple with a barely-there touch. “What can I say? I love a woman who behaves badly.”

“I must be a dream, then,” she murmured, smiling as she trembled.

His fingers caught her nipple without warning, pinching it as his other hand dipped between her thighs to rub once against her clit.

Ginny cried out and shot halfway into a sitting position. After a few heartbeats, she shuddered and relaxed, dropping her hands back to the table above her head. “Sorry.”

“Mmm, sure you are.” He dropped a hand to the table above her head and pinned her hands down, his grin widening. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were just begging to get spanked again.”

“I
am
begging,” she whispered, twisting under him. The gentle ache sharpened until she almost hurt. “Jack…”

His fingers slipped over her clit again before sliding lower. He eased one inside and groaned, his eyes never leaving her face. “You’re so wet. Tell me what you want, Ginny. Say it.”

“I want you to fuck me with your fingers.” Her whole body tensed, and she fought the urge to free her hands and grab him. “I want you to watch me come.”

Jack groaned again, then leaned down and claimed her mouth. His tongue plunged past her lips, hot and every bit as demanding as the finger stroking inside her. Ginny forgot everything but the fire burning inside her, and the fact that the man above her could ease the ache, make her scream. She tried to raise her arms, but his grip on her wrists was unyielding.

He lifted his head and watched her face as he eased a second finger into her. “Wiggle all you want, darling. You’re not going anywhere.”

Her heels dug into the backs of his thighs, and she panted. “If you let me go, I could touch you.”
God
, she wanted to touch him.

“You want to get free?” His thumb swept up before she could answer, narrowing in on her clit as he worked her body with an intimate knowledge which should have taken months to learn. His fingers slicked in and out of her at the perfect angle for several moments, then froze. His smile turned arrogant. “No getting loose until you come, Ginny. And no coming until you beg.”

Begging would mean letting go of control, even more than she had the night before. Ginny bit her lip and stared up at the hard set of Jack’s jaw for a long moment, then rocked her hips against his hand, moving his fingers inside her. She moaned when the friction sent another stab of pleasure through her.

His breath caught, and he let out a hoarse laugh. “You can try that, sweetheart, but I bet I could make it feel a lot nicer.” He moved his fingers again, curling them inside her until her back arched off the table and she cursed sharply. “Just tell me you need it.”

She’d opened herself to him in the quiet darkness of her bedroom, but she wasn’t sure she could do now, with sunlight spilling through the kitchen windows. It seemed more
real
somehow. More dangerous. “Jack.”

“Ginny.” His eyes softened, and his fingers fell into a gentle thrusting rhythm. “It’s okay, darling. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

“No.” Her own voice was a harsh rasp she barely recognized. “I told you last night, honey. You’re the furthest thing from ‘
safe’
I’ve ever seen.”

He stilled again, pulling his hand away from her body this time. “If you don’t feel safe with me, this ends now.”

She should have been physically frustrated by the loss of his touch. Instead, her chest ached, and she closed her eyes against the hurt she glimpsed in his eyes. “That isn’t what I meant. I don’t feel safe with myself.” She forced her eyes open again and sought his. “Don’t stop, Jack. Please.”