Cajun Hot (15 page)

"Look at me,” he rumbled, dark as the thunder. “Open your eyes and look at the man who possesses you."

She squeezed her eyes tighter and shook her head. “No,” she whimpered, about to explode from wanting him inside her. “I won't."

"
Putain.
"

Her eyes sprang open at the insult. “I am what you've made me, Jacque."

And she loved every bit of it.
The freedom he'd bequeathed with his teachings was as breathtaking as the storm raging around them.

Suddenly, he let out a scorching curse and reared off her, rolling to the end of the bed. He sat there, holding his head and swearing. “
Merde.
"

"What's wrong?” she asked, stunned by his mercuric desertion. Her body protested, aching, devastated by the absence of his enveloping heat. She sat up and laid an uncertain hand on his shoulder, only to be violently shaken off.

"Don't!"

"But—"

"Don’ touch me, Sahara, unless you want me to finish what I started. And it won’ be pretty.” He stabbed his fingers through his long hair.

She settled behind him, not daring to reach out. “That's a matter of opinion..."

He turned, pinioning her with anguished eyes, black and hollow as the deepest abyss. “You wanna be raped, woman?"

Outside, the wind died to a whisper and the rain slowed.

"It's not rape if the woman wants it,” she said into the sudden quiet.

He stared at her, long and hard, searching her face, as though trying to comprehend what was happening between them. Slowly, cautiously, she laid her fingers on his biceps. Her chain stretched taut, preventing her from going any further. She leaned over and tenderly kissed his shoulder, rubbing her cheek lightly over his sweat-sheened skin.

"I don’ understand, darlin'. What are you sayin'?"

She bit her lip and cast her eyes downward. “I wanted ... that is, I thought...” Her head wobbled and he grasped her cheeks between his hands, forcing her to look at him.

"Thought what,
chère
?"

"I thought you needed me to fight you. Almost as much as I needed you to win."

Understanding slowly crystallized in his eyes. “Oh, baby.
Mon coeur.
I don’ deserve you.” He swept her into his arms, lowering them to the bed. “I've been such a bastard. I'm so sorry."

Before she could draw breath he was over her, thrusting his silken length deep inside her.

Oh, yes! This was what she wanted. To feel him all around her, volcanic in his heat and power, singeing her to her toes with his molten body. No man had ever made her feel this way, so complete, so transformed by his love that she'd be so much less than herself without him.

She wrapped herself around him, buried herself under him, and let herself be conquered by his searing passion. “Jacque, I need you so."

She gave in to him. All of him. And knew she'd never be the same.

She loved him. Purely and simply. And she'd do anything for him. Anything. Including staying in this dreadful swamp, if that's what he wanted.

She smiled, and knew her life had just altered irrevocably. She'd come full circle. She'd come home. Suddenly, she didn't care what people thought of her, of how she and her man lived. Finally ...
finally
, she understood what had driven her mother to stay with her father all those years.

Love. The purest, most exquisite form of selfless love.

"I'd never hurt you,” he whispered, holding her as close as a man could hold a woman, joined in a union as old as the universe. “I'd kill myself first."

"I know.” Her certainty must have shone in her tear-filled eyes, because when he searched them, he smiled, too.

He moved then, loving her with a patience that took her breath away, with a tenderness that made her heart weep for joy. She lost herself in the feel of him surrounding her, in the bliss of belonging to this wonderful man.

He loved her completely, taking command in a much different way than he had earlier. He lavished her with soft, languid kisses, long, caressing strokes of his hand, slick thrusts of his opulent length. When, after seemingly hours, they climaxed together, it wasn't with the usual fast, furious tumult, but with a deep, intense, endless rapture.

"I love you,” she whispered as she fell asleep, still tucked under him in his warm embrace.

And in her dream he answered softly, “
Et je t'aime, ma douce amie.
"

I love you.

The words echoed in Jacque's soul, bringing elation and torment at the same time.

She loved him. Sahara, his own sweet love.

She loved him, but would she stay? Would she pass the test to become the wife of his heart and his home, as well as in illicit ceremony? He hardly dared hope.

She'd given him so much, in such a short time. Limitless joy in his company, unabashed worship of his body, undivided attention to his needs and wants, words and interests. A profound understanding and acceptance of Jacque Cherchat, peeled down to the most basic, primitive level, the essential man he wasn't particularly proud of, but knew was the basis of his being. A man far more volatile and dangerous than millionaire playboy Jack Kershaw could ever show himself to be.

She loved him.
Him.

But would she stay? If he really tested her, would she stay?

The question haunted him, tortured him. Would he survive if she walked away?

He doubted it. He needed her with a depth that left him gasping for air, grasping for purchase on the brittle edge of reason. If she left, he'd hunt her down, capture her again, sell his soul to the devil all over to keep her with him always.

She stirred in his arms and he realized he was covering every part of her, holding her in a death grip, crushing her with a strength that would surely leave bruises.

She looked up and smiled sweetly, looking so much like a woman in love that his heart spun in his chest.

"Good morning,” she whispered.

He knew if he held her for a single second longer, he wouldn't have the strength to do what he must. He gave her a quick kiss, then slid away from her. “Come on, sleepy-head. It's late. We have to get moving."

He parted the
baire
and slipped through the opening, padding to the stove to put on coffee. She watched him from his bed, a rumpled odalisque ensconced in the delicate web of mosquito netting, lit by the muted rays of the morning sun. He almost changed his mind.

"Can't.” She held up her wrist. She was still chained to his bed. A mischievous smile graced her kiss-stung lips. Her legs parted, beckoning him wantonly.

A wicked jolt of possessiveness tore through him. For a moment, the desire to leave her like that nearly overwhelmed him. He was instantly lead-pipe hard.

His gaze shot to the clock, his mind furiously calculating how much time he had before they must leave for Gerroux.

Enough.

He quickly retraced his steps and knelt between her welcoming thighs, overwhelmed by a need to experience her once more. Before he took her to the bus that would seal his fate.

She grasped his manhood between her hands, paralyzing him instantly. Helpless to do more than watch in rhapsodic fascination, he endured her talented fingers stroking him, her palms cupping him hotly.

His balls swelled in his sac, ready to burst. His cock ignited in a solid column of burning brimstone.. In seconds, he was ready to explode. He groaned and clenched his teeth against the terrible need to let go, to come all over her in a thick spurting roar of gratification, drenching her with his sticky essence.

The feel of chilly metal against his heat jerked him to attention. She was winding her chain around his shaft. He yelped in surprise when she looped the cold chain around his balls, pulled hard, then continued to wind it tightly around the base of his erection.

"Sahara, what the hell—!"

"You're my captive now, Jacque."

His cock throbbed in its erotic confinement. His sac felt as though it held a melon. He was sizzling, sublimely turned-on.

"Do you deny it?” she queried provocatively from beneath him.

He felt the muscles in his neck pop in long cords.
Bon douce Dieu.
“No. I'm yours,
en tout
, completely. Do with me as you wish."

The tip of her tongue slicked her rosy lips. A hungry male growl rumbled in his chest, eager to feel that tongue on him.

"Well, in that case..."

Her lips parted and she tugged the chain, compelling him upward, toward her succulent mouth.

He lost all pretense of control. In a flash, he'd moved up, straddling her breasts, and plunged his cock into the moist velvet of her open mouth. He groaned low as she closed over him, hit with a wall of hunger so fierce he couldn't stop it if he tried.

Desperately, he grabbed her hand and brought it between his legs. Grasping her two first fingers he pressed them deep into the tender flesh just behind his balls.

"Aahhh!” He shuddered with pleasure, unable, unwilling to rein it in. He pressed harder on her fingers, showing her the spot that would bring him to paradise and beyond. “Keep them right there,” he rasped, “hard."

She licked her assent and stroked her tongue up his length. All the while, her seductive gaze held him in its thrall. The primitive masculine thrill of watching her service him in this way clawed through his core, inflaming him further. She pulled the chain tighter. He shouted a vile curse, flinching in exquisite agony.

His mind emptied of everything but the powerful sensations searing through him.

Her tongue continued its devilish mission, working up and down his thick shaft, around his tumescent head and over his turgid sac. He wanted to come. Desperately wanted to come. But couldn't.

He gripped the black iron headboard until his knuckles turned white. His chest heaved; his breath came in great gulps. Sweat poured from his temples. He felt like he was going to explode, he needed to come so badly. He'd never craved an orgasm more in his life. But climax eluded him, hanging tantalizingly close, just out of reach.

"Sahara,” he ground out. “Let go."

"No.” Her fingers stayed firmly in place where he'd put them.

"Please.
Please.
I'm beggin’ you."

"Say you love me, Jacque."

Her words stunned him. He looked down at her, his woman, pinned beneath his body. His buttocks rested on her soft, lush breasts, the tip of his cock pulsed wildly between her lips, in volatile suspension of its thrusting ownership of her mouth. Her eyes, her limpid, sensual eyes, looked up at him. Daring him. Seducing him. Reducing him to a witless slave.

"
Je t'aime
,” he croaked, his throat rigid and dry with unholy need. “God, how I love you."

Beneath his shaft, her lips curved in a slow, triumphant smile. His cock vibrated in reaction, the sensitive skin of the head picking up every nuance of her movement. Her tongue crept out and lapped once, tasting the clear liquor seeping from its tip. A strangled moan escaped his throat.

"I'll never let you go,” she whispered, then took him into her mouth and sucked.

The breath left his lungs.

"
Bon Dieu
,” he rasped, launching over the brink.

With a fierce jerk, orgasm punched through his entire body, from the soles of his feet to his clenched teeth. He gripped the iron headboard and hung on for dear life, roaring his savage pleasure at the hand and tongue of his scandalously talented wife. His body shook with the effort to spew its seed, but the chain wrapped around him and her unyielding fingers on his hidden trigger prevented it from happening. What he experienced was blinding, dazzling pleasure, shockwaves of ecstasy ripping through his cock and balls in never-ending circles.

When it was over, and he could open his eyes again, his cock was still hard as a steel oar, undiminished in its undisputed male potency. His wife was staring at it in awestruck surprise.

He swallowed, lubricating his parched throat, and gave her a modest grin. “A trick I learned from an old voodoo priest,” he mumbled by way of explanation, loathe to tell her he'd actually learned it from a book on tantric sex and the only reason it had worked was due to her unflagging stubbornness with her fingers. “Now, unhand me and let's get serious."

Her eyes darted to him and widened. “You mean you can—?"

"
Mais
yeah,
chère
. You want it with or without chains?"

Sahara stared eagerly at his male pride, long, thick and purple, bulging from its metal bonds. “With."

Jacque allowed himself a grin of satisfaction. She'd come a long way in a short time.

He slid down her body and planted himself between her legs. Her hand grasped his hip, tethered to his cock by her shortened restraint.

"Wrap the chain all the way around me so your hand is trapped between us."

He heard her shallow intake of breath, but she obeyed without protest. The chain was narrow and delicate, carefully chosen. It wouldn't interfere with her pleasure, it would enhance it. She wound the chain up to the rim of his prick, then back down until she almost ran out of links. It was impossible for her to move her hand more than a few inches.

He slid his heavily armored member into her, an inch at time. She gasped and squirmed, wriggling as she expanded to fit the added thickness. He was naturally big, but now his size stretched and filled her to overflowing. Her fingers tickled as she struggled to find a comfortable position. She finally gave up and cupped him instead.

The leather of her cuff scraped erotically against his thigh, her hand teased like a butterfly as he joined their bodies. The look in her eyes as he glided out, then back into her, was nearly enough to put him over again. Nearly. But first he wanted to make her scream as loudly as he had.

He moved relentlessly in and out, in and out, building her excitement, making her writhe under him at the lubricious sensations of his improvised cockring. Her fingers grasped him at the root, exploring the hot, wet place where he thrust into her.

When he could take no more and maintain control, he whispered into her ear, “Spread yourself for me,
chère
, with your fingers, so you can feel everything."