Must Be Crazy: (Melissa and Jackson) (A Jetty Beach Romance Book 2) (11 page)

Jackson tries to get handsy with me in the limo, but I keep my distance. I don’t want any more games. If he takes my picture again, I’ll probably slap him, but he’s smart enough to leave that alone. When we pull into the driveway, I throw open the car door myself and get out before the driver can come around. Nathan is there to let us in, asking about dinner, but I sweep past him and go upstairs to the bedroom. I run into the bathroom and bang the door shut, pressing the lock.

The bathroom doesn’t help. It’s too perfect. Too beautiful. The finishes shine, and the towels are so thick and soft. I wet a washcloth and put it on the back of my neck, trying to calm down.

What else did I expect? That a fucking gazillionaire would take me on some crazy vacation and expect me to pay for half?

I take a deep breath and put down the washcloth. I freaked out again, and it isn’t Jackson’s fault. It’s not like he knows any better. He can’t possibly understand.

I come out of the bathroom to find him on the balcony, talking on his phone. His eyebrows are drawn down, his face serious. He lifts his eyes, noticing me, and says a few more words, nodding as he talks. He hangs up and pockets his phone.

“Melissa, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I know,” I say. “I was just embarrassed. I’m sorry I was such a bitch about it.”

He smiles, his lips parting over his perfect teeth. “You weren’t. Are you okay now? Do we need to watch
Firefly
again?”

I laugh and step closer. He draws me in close, putting his arms around me, and kisses the top of my head. I close my eyes, savoring the feel of his body next to mine, his arms wrapped around me.

***

The next few days go by in a blur. We eat amazing food, lounge by the pool, walk on the beach. Now that we have plenty of clothes to wear, and there’s a chef to prepare our meals, there doesn’t seem to be any reason to leave the villa. It’s our own little private paradise. We take naps entwined in each other’s arms, and stay up late decimating the villa’s well-stocked bar. In the mornings, we nurse our hangovers with coffee and gourmet breakfasts. The sun shines and the skies are clear. Jackson takes a few work calls, and occasionally spends time on his phone answering emails. I check in with Nicole, assuring her I’m having a great time.

By Thursday, I’m trying very hard not to think about the approaching weekend. He hasn’t mentioned when we’re leaving, but we said a week. That probably means Saturday. I don’t know if he made flight reservations, and I can’t bring myself to ask. I don’t want to think about this week ending. Jackson is fun and sexy as hell. He seems to enjoy being with me as much as I enjoy being with him. I want to relish the time we have left, instead of dwelling on what will come next.

Because I have no idea what
next
is going to look like.

That afternoon, we meander down to the beach. I wear a mint-green tank top and a flowing skirt that just hits my knees, my feet bare. The sun beats down, but a cool breeze blows in off the water. With all the time we spend outside, I’m getting a great tan.

We stop in front of the water and Jackson stands behind me, his hands running up and down my bare arms.

“This is amazing,” I say. “I’m going to go ahead and bust out a cliché, because it’s true. I feel like I’m living in a dream.”

“Yeah, it’s good,” Jackson says.

There’s something in his voice. Hesitance? I glance up at him, but he smiles, nothing unusual in his eyes.

He runs his hands through my hair and massages my scalp with his fingers. I let out a long, slow breath and lean my head back. He moves his thumbs up and down the back of my neck, pressing softly.

“That feels so good,” I say.

“Mm, I love making you feel good.”

He rubs my shoulders and I close my eyes. I feel like I can do this forever.

Don’t think about forever.

One hand slides around my waist, pulling me against him. The other lifts the side of my skirt, his fingers trailing up my outer thigh.

His mouth is right next to my ear and he speaks in a throaty whisper. “We should go inside.”

“We definitely should.”

We walk back toward the villa, Jackson’s hands all over me. He follows me up the stairs to the pool deck, grabbing my hips. When we get to the glass door leading inside, he spins me around and pushes me up against it. He grabs my wrists and raises my arms over my head, pinning me with one hand. His other hand reaches beneath my dress and pushes my thighs apart. He slides his fingers inside, his eyes locked on mine.

“You’re wet again.”

“What are you going to do about it, captain?”

“I’m going to fuck you until you beg for mercy.”

His fingers do their magic and he leans down to kiss me, his tongue firm and aggressive. I lift one leg, half wrapping it around him, and he keeps my hands pinned above my head.

The sound of voices comes from somewhere nearby. He pulls his mouth from mine.

“I think someone’s coming,” I whisper.

His lips part in a sly smile. “We should go in.” He tightens his grip on my wrists and presses his thumb against my clit.

My eyes roll back. “Oh fuck, Jackson. We need to go inside.”

He curls his fingers and rubs in slow circles, that devil smile on his face. “Now?”

“Yes, now. I want it hard. You need to stop holding back with me.”

He pauses, his face close to mine. “I don’t want to break you.”

“You won’t. I’ll stop you if it’s too much.”

He gently bites my lower lip as he slides his fingers out and lets my arms go. My whole body is on fire, my heart beating out of my chest.

Somehow we get the door open and stumble into the villa. We make our way to the master bedroom and he shuts the door. I back up toward the bed, Jackson right in front of me, almost pushing me backward. He pulls off his shirt and tosses it aside. My legs hit the bed and he stops, his gaze intense.

“Do you trust me?” he asks.

My heart flutters. His question is saturated with meaning, and I’m almost afraid to answer.

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?” The seriousness in his face eases as one side of his mouth turns up in a smile.

He’s never given me a reason not to.
“Yes.”

He digs into his suitcase and pulls out two neckties.

Holy shit.

His eyes don’t leave my face as he walks back to me, the ties dangling from his hands. I take a trembling breath. I know what he’s going to do. I’ve never done anything like this before.

I can’t wait.

He puts the ties on the bed and helps me undress. I stand in front of him, naked and quivering with anticipation. He knots a loop in one of the ties and slips it over my wrist, then does the same for the other.

“On the bed.”

I don’t even consider resisting. I get on the bed, letting him guide me where he wants. I lay on my back and he straddles over the top of me. He raises my arms above my head and fastens the neckties to the bedframe, running a finger between the tie and my wrists, as if to make sure they aren’t too tight.

“Stay here.”

I swallow hard. He gets up off the bed and leaves the room.

I stare at the ceiling, my thoughts running a million miles a second. I’m completely in his power—and it’s fucking thrilling. The ties are loose enough that I can probably get free if I want to. But not knowing what he’s going to do with me makes my adrenaline pump. I wait, squashing the urge to squirm against the restraints. Where is he?

What is he going to do?

He comes back in carrying an amber bottle and two glasses.

“We drank all the Glenlivet,” he says. He sits down on the edge of the bed and puts the bottle and glasses on the nightstand. “But this should do.”

I watch him in a daze as he pours a splash of Scotch into one of the glasses. He picks it up and gently sets it just below my belly button.

“Hold still, or you’ll spill your drink.”

Fucking hell, that’s just mean.

He pulls off the rest of his clothes and climbs on the bed. The Scotch sloshes back and forth in the glass.

“Careful,” he says.

He tilts my legs open and runs his hands down my thighs, then teases his fingers along my folds. I watch him, trying to hold my body still.

“Oh god, Jackson.”

“Baby, I love hearing you say my name.”

He massages my clit—he’s become a fucking expert in just a few days—and I lean my head back against the pillow. I start to move my hips but he stops.

“Don’t spill.”

I groan. He rubs again, slipping his fingers inside and using his thumb. He touches me with sensual slowness, and my eyes roll back.

“God, Jackson, that’s so good.”

I look up at him again. His mouth is turned up in a mischievous smile, his cock hard.

“Touch yourself while you do that,” I say.

He lifts one eyebrow. “You dirty, dirty girl.”

“Do it.”

He switches hands and rubs some of my wetness across the tip and down his shaft. His hand grips his swollen cock, rubbing up and down to the slow rhythm of his thumb on my clit.

“Holy shit, Melissa.”

“Faster,” I say.

I never thought watching a man rub his own cock would be so fucking hot, but it makes me absolutely burn for him. He speeds up, and the glass tilts back and forth. I don’t give two shits if it spills all over the bed. There are others. We don’t have to sleep here.

“Woah, baby, slow down,” he says. He stops and pulls his fingers out. “God, Melissa, you’re too much. Where did you come from?”

“You better put that cock in me soon before I have to take care of things myself.”

He smiles his wicked grin. “You can’t. You’re all tied up.”

I pull against the restraints and the glass tips. Jackson catches it before it spills.

“Bad sassy girl,” he says. “You almost spilled your drink.”

He tilts the glass just above my stomach and lets a dribble of Scotch pour out over my skin. He leans down and licks it off, running his tongue up my belly.

“I’ve wanted to do this to you since the first night we met,” he says. He splashes more Scotch over the hollow of my belly button and purses his lips to suck it off.

“You thought about drinking Scotch off me when we were at Danny’s bar?” I ask.

He dribbles more between my breasts and licks it, his tongue sliding across my nipple.

“Fuck yeah, I did.”

I shudder and moan while his tongue makes lazy circles across my skin. “Did you think you’d get the chance?” I ask.

He stops and looks up, meeting my eyes. “Yes.”

He puts the glass aside and unfastens the neckties from the bed frame, then ties them together, keeping my wrists shackled. He pulls me to the side of the bed and turns me on my belly. I’m face down, my legs bent over the side of the bed, my feet on the floor. I hear the crinkle of the condom wrapper and seconds later, he rams himself in. No waiting, no teasing. He pounds me hard. I cry out with each trust. With my wrists tied together, I’m completely in his control.

I fucking love it.

There’s nothing I can do but grind my hips into him as he pounds me fast. I told him what I wanted, and he’s giving it to me. Every thrust is an explosion of ecstasy. I pick myself up onto my elbows and he reaches around to cup my breasts, never slowing.

“Jackson!” I practically scream. In the back of my mind, it occurs to me that the villa has a staff and they’re probably around, but I don’t care. How does he
do
that? Most men have to fumble around with each new position until they get it right—and most never do. Jackson
knows
. My vision goes blurry and I call out his name. God, it’s amazing.

He grabs my hips and thrusts in harder. It hurts a little. My breath catches in my throat, and I feel a twinge of fear. Am I safe with him? Will he stop if I need him to? How far can I let this go?

“Jackson, stop.”

Instantly, he stops moving. No hesitation, no finishing what he’s about to do. He stands motionless, his tight grip on my hips easing.

I turn my head to look at him. His chest glistens and he breathes fast.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks.

“No.”

He pulls out and turns me over. We climb back onto the bed and he gets on top of me, pushing my arms above my head. He holds himself up, our bodies close. He slides his cock back inside and pauses, his face next to mine.

“Are you all right?”

Tears spring to my eyes at his sudden gentleness. He didn’t do anything I didn’t ask for—didn’t want. “Yes, I’m fine,” I whisper. “I just had to know I was safe.”

He kisses my lips, his mouth so soft. “You’re always safe with me.”

With his lips on mine, he slides his cock in and out, pushing against me with each movement. He eases into a gentle rhythm. I grab his ass and move him faster, rocking my hips against him. He breaks the kiss and looks at me.

“Fuck me harder, Jackson.”

He picks up the pace.

“Harder.”

He does what I ask and my orgasm builds—fast. My muscles clench and my pussy throbs.

“Oh god, don’t stop that.”

“Fuck, Melissa, you feel so good. I can’t stop.”

He keeps going, harder and faster. I cry out as he brings me to the brink. His cock pulses inside me and I lose control. I call his name, over and over, while spasms of pleasure rip through me.

We both finish and he leans down, brushing his cheek against mine. He kisses my ear, down my neck.

“That was unbelievable,” he says, his voice a low whisper.

It was. The entire week has been unbelievable.

I don’t want to wake up.