Chapter 28
G enevieve
Jago was purposely unnerving me.
Just the dark, heated look in his eyes was enough to create tingles while goosebumps swept across my arms. As he took the glass from my hand, placing both on the table, I sucked in and held my breath.
There was no reason for me to squirm because we’d perfected our evocative dance, but I found myself pressing my legs together since my pussy was throbbing. He was the consummate predator, stalking toward me with the patience and concentration of a lion.
My throat was suddenly dry, my mind skittering around the fact I was married. I had the ring and the marriage license to prove it. Which was why the thought of engaging in carnal activity presented itself in an entirely different way.
“You’re doing this on purpose. Aren’t you?” I asked, hating the sheepish tone in my voice. Where had that come from? Maybe from the way he was looking at me. He’d undressed me with his eyes on the dance floor. Now he was planning how his nighttime feast would begin.
“What exactly?”
“Making me want you.”
“It would seem I’m damn good at making you want me almost all the time.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
“I’m not. Just stating fact.” He was now closer than an inch, so close his body heat combined with mine, which was close to becoming combustible.
“You’re good at lying, not stating facts,” I whispered when he reached out, gently touching my cheek. Every time I told myself I would resist him, his prowess and rough demands drew me in just like the spider and the fly I’d tried to teach Bella about.
Boy, wouldn’t she be proud of me at this moment?
“So you’ve said. Right now, I have no intention of lying to you, Genevieve.” He folded his fingers, rubbing his knuckles down the side of my neck before crouching down on one knee. When he lifted my foot, untying the first boot, I swayed back and forth.
I had to grip his shoulders to keep my steady balance. Maybe I was drunk on champagne or cresting on a high from the day and the sultry looks he’d given me.
After tugging one boot and tossing it to the floor, he repeated with my other foot, finalizing the action by rubbing his fingers along the inside of my leg.
When he reached the sheathed knife, he glanced up at me with a sparkle in his eyes as he unbuckled it. For any other bride, this would be about the garter belt, but in my life, nothing about borrowed and blue played a part.
Just danger and violence.
Every sound he made was more like a growl, guttural and husky in nature.
I was mesmerized by the sound, chuckling softly from the tickling sensations as he placed the knife on the table.
Not finished yet, he reached for the gun, rubbing the tip of his index finger across the barrel before untethering me from the steel protection.
He nodded in a sign of respect at my choice and I almost burst into laughter. Who compared weapons on their wedding day?
I had to remind myself nothing about our relationship was normal. Did that make it spicier? Yes. Did I crave the darkness and more than a hint of danger when surrounded by him?
I’d need to call myself a liar if I said I didn’t.
His eyes flashed once again before turning me around gently. With his hand on my neck, the tingling sensations increased.
I’d forgotten there was a zipper in the dress, although I hadn’t bothered with it either at the bridal store or when I’d wrangled my shaking body into it hurriedly after reaching the church.
But as he brushed my hair around one shoulder and took his time unzipping the long enclosure, I was painfully cognizant the zipper existed.
A wash of cool air fell across my naked skin briefly before he leaned over, not only blowing a heated breath across my back, but also pressing his lips against my skin.
Quiet moans slipped up from my throat as he pushed his lips against another spot. And another.
And another.
Swallowing, I closed my eyes as a full array of tingles swept down my spine. He’d never been this gentle before, almost romantic. I’d thought there wasn’t a romantic bone in his body. His breathing was labored, so much so I glanced into his eyes to make certain he was okay.
I’d never seen them devoid of anger completely, but now it was replaced with extreme lust.
“Do you know what I want to do right now, Genevieve?” he asked in a velvety tone that in and of itself made me blush all over again.
“No. What?”
“I’d like to rip your thong into shreds, push you down, and devour you until you scream out my name begging for more just as you come inside my mouth. And with my tongue drenched in your sweet juice, I’ll do it all over again.”
I started to stutter, which wasn’t like me in the least.
For a man who could be aggressively obsessive, I found his possessiveness strangely exhilarating.
He dragged his tongue along my neck as he peeled away the gown, slowly pushing it down both arms. The usually antagonistic man with zero patience had no issue waiting as he tugged the tight material over my hips.
As gravity finally guided it to the floor, I closed my eyes and envisioned his perfectly muscular physique devoid of the pesky clothes he was wearing.
His breath skipped several beats as he brushed the rough pads of his fingers down my braless back.
“Beautiful. A vision,” he whispered.
There was no reason for me to feel a rush of embarrassment, but that’s what was happening. My skin was on fire and my pussy was throbbing with such an intense need I found myself gasping for air.
I was floating on air as he turned me around, helping me step away from the material.
He cupped both sides of my face, his expression almost completely unreadable.
He was such a creature of beauty. As he pulled me close, I was instantly bathed in his scent.
Feeling slightly intoxicated, when his lips drew close, I was completely out of breath.
He didn’t give me any time to collect myself or object before he captured my mouth. The kiss was as passionate and gentle as his actions had been. He moved our lips together, creating several perfect o’s before sliding his tongue inside.
His self-control was mesmerizing and as he rolled his palms down my arms, every shiver was as much about what he would do as what he was doing. Still, through his gentleness I moaned, arching my back in eager anticipation.
I clung to his shirt, fisting my hands around the crisp material. He’d looked so damn handsome while reciting his vows, his face so stoic that I’d almost believed him.
In sickness and in health was a possibility.
Until death do us part was a definite given the profession we were in.
It was the love and cherish part that had my mind spinning and my stomach doing flip-flops. Just the way he was touching me now was a clear indication of our electric connection, but that’s all it was.
That’s all it could be.
I couldn’t stand to have my fragile heart crushed into a thousand pieces.
As he tasted me, swiping his tongue back and forth, he slid his hands down my back. With a slow and easy movement of his hand, he brushed his palm all the way down to my buttocks.
I shifted my hands to the thong, sliding my fingers under both sides. He allowed the kiss to be broken long enough for me to slide my panties to the floor, easing my feet from the openings. When I stood at my full height, completely bare and in front of a fully dressed man, he narrowed his eyes.
He kissed me more roughly this time and pressed his throbbing bulge between my legs. As he ground his hips back and forth, I became as lightheaded as I’d ever been. When he sucked on my tongue, I thought I would go mad. The sensations tearing through me were incredible.
For a full minute, I was floating on air.
“The things I’m going to do to you, my beautiful wife.” He cupped both breasts, squeezing them until I cried out from discomfort. “Make no mistake. No man will ever touch you again. If they do, they die. And I won’t tell you what will happen to you.”
Anyone who’d overheard his stark words would say he was threatening me, terror his method of control, but I knew better. This was Jago’s love language, as twisted as it might seem.
Yet even when there was any hint of pain, there was always pleasure. He was the perfect composer and I was his beloved student. The analogy was strange, but appropriate.
When he bent his head, sucking and biting on first one nipple then the other, I wrapped my arms around his head. There was something special about curling my fingers in his thick hair, feeling the exploding warmth from his hot breath.
My skin was on fire, my core little more than molten lava.
The moment he pushed back, I frantically worked on the buttons on his shirt. He grinned as if waiting for me to rip it off. I refused, wanting to torment him as much as he was doing to me. When I’d unbuttoned the last one, I gave him an indecent look before flicking my tongue around his nipple.
“Mmm… Careful, my wife. You know how I don’t like to be teased.”
Laughing in as sultry a tone as possible, I rolled his shirt off his shoulders, taking my time to brush my fingertips down his arms. His muscles rippled against my fingers.
I ground my pussy against his erection, trying my best to take some control, but my excitement refused to allow me to take my time.
He allowed me to unfasten his belt, doing nothing more than rubbing both my arms as I flashed glances into his eyes every few seconds.
His sigh was even more exaggerated when I slowly dropped to my knees.
I’d kept my hands on his belt, now tugging the thick leather until I was able to release the strap.
I rolled my hands down his muscular legs until I reached his shoes.
The intensity of Jago’s expression remained, his body tense.
He was victim to the rush of adrenaline and lust caused by my actions.
There was something exciting about watching his emotional state change, his needs outweighing any concept of logic.