Chapter 14
G enevieve
As I slipped up from a strange dream, the warmth of being under soft covers tried to drag me back into a deep slumber. Yet something told me to open my eyes. As soon as I did, I was mortified to see that the sun was shining in through very thinly cracked blinds.
A feeling of horror swept through me and I jerked up, blinking a few times, but it was difficult to focus.
The covers slipped down and I realized from a single shiver my breasts were exposed.
I grabbed at the sheets before hearing slow and steady breathing.
I turned my head and cringed. The dream hadn’t been strange. It had been twisted. Sick.
Maybe somewhere deep in my psyche as I slept I hadn’t given myself to a monster. No, it wasn’t about giving or taking. What I’d shared with the bastard had been partially about dancing around a game of chess and…
And the other part was too disgusting to think about.
We’d been so drawn to each other that we’d caved under our bodies’ betrayal. That wasn’t entirely true either. Jago would probably fuck any woman who offered themselves to him and I was certain he had. But me? What was my excuse? Trauma? Fear? A horrible week? What?
I’d never forgive myself.
I glanced around the room, taking in the plush and richly colored atmosphere.
This was definitely his bedroom with dark wood tones on a huge king-sized bed, the black comforter matching the accent colors in the pictures on the walls.
The artwork was evocative, far too seductive to be studying while waking up next to the enemy.
My eyes fell to the weapon on the nightstand on his side of the bed.
For a few fleeting seconds, I thought about taking it and trying to sneak out of the house.
Then another brutal dose of reality sank in.
I wouldn’t get down the driveway before I was captured and brought back.
Seeing the gun was the reminder I needed that what had happened the night before hadn’t been smart.
Gah. What had I been thinking?
The scent of the man lingered everywhere, staining my skin. I pulled strands of hair to my nose and grimaced.
A bottle of wine was still on the table next to the huge leather chair, only a small amount remaining in the bottom while the two crystal stems were stained with red. We’d consumed an entire bottle of wine.
There’d been so much tension between us, so many sparks and I’d done my best to ignore them. I’d failed. Furious, I dropped my head into my hand, shifting across the soft sheet. The instant wash of discomfort reminded me of the harsh punishment.
Even that had ultimately made me wet.
Hungry.
No, I’d been famished.
I laughed softly and covered my mouth with my hand, reliving the rest of the night. He’d carried me to bed, bringing the wine moments later. There’d been no discussion at first. He’d opened the bottle, offered me a glass, and had crawled into bed. Barely five minutes later and he’d fucked me again.
My pussy was sore, but the ache was warm, the insides of my thighs still sticky. I looked over at him, hating myself all over again for basking in his stunning good looks. The sheets had fallen to the point where the deeply carved V in his chiseled pecs shifted all the way to his massive thighs.
Unable to help myself, I pulled the sheet away, once again admiring his entire physique including his cock. Holy shit, he was huge, so much so I’d feel the throb between my legs for hours if not the full day. Why did that make me happy?
I pushed back a groan and carefully returned the sheets, shifting further to the side of the bed and easing out from under the covers. With my feet on the floor, I glanced over my shoulder. Right now, I needed time alone. And the bathroom.
His bathroom was as lavish as his bedroom, the massive space equipped with a three- or four-person shower and a gorgeous old-fashioned claw-foot tub that had been slightly modernized and was much larger. Everything was striking yet very cold, the colors far too masculine, but suited him perfectly.
I found toothpaste and a new toothbrush and snickered. How many of these did he keep since he likely had a new squeeze over a few times a week? As my mouth foamed, I stared at myself in the mirror.
I’d bet all my chips at the wrong time. See where it had gotten me? I’d need to play this much more carefully or next time, I wouldn’t be able to save my family.
Or myself.
No longer capable of looking at my ugly reflection, I rinsed out my mouth, then decided I had to scrub off his horrific scent. I couldn’t stand it any longer. The odor was like dense woods and a hint of rainwater, exotic spices and citrus. How could anyone stand the combination?
It took me a few seconds to figure out how to start the shower and I huddled next to the door until I was certain the water was hot.
At least he had good tastes in shower gel and shampoo. I closed my eyes as I stood under the huge water spigot, finally allowing myself to take gasping breaths. They turned into a single, horrid-sounding sob that racked my chest.
I allowed the heated tears to fall as I reached for the shampoo. Only one week ago everything in my world had been okay. Better than okay. Now this.
I lathered my hair and sucked back the tears, allowing anger to fill the void. Eventually, the emotion would crush out all despair. It had to. I had no other choice if I wanted to survive and keep my father’s immortal spirit alive.
Finally, a laugh bubbled to the surface. Was he looking down on me now and frowning or applauding me? It was tough to tell with my father.
I was so lost in the flush of anxiety that I didn’t hear a warning. There’d been no crackle of electricity as I’d experienced with Jago before, but suddenly, he was there invading my space in the shower.
Gasping, I frantically washed soap from my eyes, immediately clawing my way to the shower door. But that would mean I’d need to get by an immovable object.
“You’re not going anywhere just yet. Are you, mi ángel espanol ,” he whispered in my ear.
I wasn’t his Spanish angel. I wasn’t his anything.
Jago wrapped his arms around me, but took my hands away, placing them on the tile before proceeding to finish washing my hair.
A part of me wanted to push him off, even to scream at him to leave me alone, but the action felt sensual.
Soothing. I closed my eyes, allowing him to use the conditioner as well.
He was gentle in his actions, something that surprised me.
He’d been rough the night before, but no man had ever provided me with so many amazing orgasms.
When he was finished, he turned me around, curling his finger and using it to lift my head so I’d be forced to look into his eyes. When I wasn’t wearing my heels, he towered over me. As he rinsed my hair, I fingered the tattoos on his chest, tracing the emblem that reminded me of a firebird.
He said nothing else as I toyed with him, and when I felt his cockhead pressing against the top of my pussy, I bit back a moan.
He was physically exquisite, his cock long, thick, and hard.
Every muscle was perfectly sculpted, his shoulders so broad I wondered how he fit them through a typical doorway.
When the water ran clear, he rubbed his two index fingers down the sides of my neck to my chest, taking his time to roll them under my breasts.
“Perfect,” he muttered before cupping them, using his thumbs to work my nipples until they were rock hard and aching.
He lowered his head, every move methodical.
When he pulled one hardened bud into his mouth, I gripped his shoulders and slowly eased my head back.
The water continued cascading down both our bodies, steam already rising in the gorgeous space.
He shifted to my other nipple, licking and nipping until I couldn’t hold back a moan. He growled in appreciation. Even more so when I rubbed the flat of my hand down his taut stomach to his groin. The second I wrapped my hand around the base of his cock, he sucked in his breath.
“Are you wet for me, Genevieve?”
“No.”
As expected, he decided to prove me wrong, sticking several fingers deep inside. My pussy muscles immediately clamped down on them, pulsing uncontrollably. He pumped several times and my pussy throbbed more than the night before. “Are you sore?”
“I’m… fine.”
He chuckled. “There’s no sense in lying to me. You want this as much as I do. Say it.”
“No.”
The sinful action as he pinched my nipple brought me a wave of ecstasy.
“Say it!”
“Yes. Fine. Yes.” I laughed at myself and the ridiculous situation.
I did want him, at least physically. I stroked his cock, rolling my fingers back and forth, allowing myself a couple of quick glimpses.
His balls were hanging low, extremely swollen.
Just like they’d been the night before. I continued rubbing him until I sensed I’d created friction.
He seemed to love it, his jaw clenching, but his eyes lighting up. There was such fire in them, an eagerness to consume me.
His fingers worked magic, the man thrusting just enough I was left in rapture. When he pulled them free, he purposely rubbed them against my lips. I parted them without thinking and he slipped his fingers inside.
“You’re very wet and all for me.” His deep, guttural sounds brought a wave of desire that couldn’t be denied. He knew it. I knew it.
Jago spun me around to face the wall once again, using his knee to kick my legs apart. When he gripped my hips, tugging me away until my back was arched, he pressed the tip of his cock against my wetness.
The fact he didn’t immediately plunge his shaft inside annoyed me. “Just fuck me.” I had no idea why I’d begged him and while the thought was repulsive, I was ready to repeat my request.
But I didn’t need to.