I pursed my lips in a tight line and tried to yank my hands free again. He surprised me by letting go. My freedom was short lived. As soon as he released me, his hands dropped to the back of my thighs and he hoisted me up onto the table. He stepped between my legs and pushed me back, not so gently until I was laying before him. He shrugged off his dress shirt, fluidly, then his hands pulled roughly at my hips until my ass was slightly hanging over the edge of the table. The distinct sound of a belt unbuckling reached my ears and I went to sit up, but his strong hand shoved me back down. “If you don’t want to tell me right now, then fine. But I won’t let this go, baby. I told you you were mine and I meant it,” he bit out angrily. The sound of his zipper echoed in the room and my breathing picked up. I shouldn’t have wanted him, but I did. I should have left, but I couldn’t.
I felt him line up with my entrance and without warning or easing me into it, he slammed into me. I screamed out. “This is what you wanted,” he grunted as he pounded into me with his hand locked on my hips. “You told everyone this was your fantasy. To be fucked on this table until you screamed.” He was rough, angry, and unrelenting. It was the perfect mixture of punishing pleasure that I knew deep down I deserved. His hips rolled, changing the angle slightly so his pelvis was hitting my clit and I moaned out his name, begging him not to stop.
“That’s it, baby. Come back to me.” Without interrupting his rhythm, he reached up and cupped the back of my neck. Lifting me up into a sitting position, he touched his lips to mine. My legs locked around his waist and I held onto his shoulders. His fingers snaked into my hair, deepening our kiss as his cock continued to stretch my pussy and bumped into my cervix. I was so close. Between his passionate kiss where his tongue rivaled mine and the way his pelvis kept beating on my clit, I was hurtling towards the edge.
“Jamie! Oh fuck, Jamie!” I yelled out between kisses.
“I love the way you scream my name.”
His deep and raspy voice did me in. I came so hard, spots took away my sight. My body locked around him, holding on for dear life. My nails scraped across his skin as my pussy contracted. He grunted and his hips began to jerk in short spurts as he found his own release, filling me with his warm essence.
Our ragged and labored breaths matched each other. My forehead was resting on his shoulder while I recovered. My legs and arms had fallen from around him like weak spaghetti. With how far my ass was hanging off the table, it was his body alone that prevented me from falling to the floor. His arms circled around me, hugging me tightly as if afraid to let me go. Lips pressed to my temple and a hand stroked my hair, showering me with affection.
The more I came down from my orgasm, the more lucid I became. My whole body tensed up. Just because we'd had sex didn’t mean it had changed anything.
He stilled, hand mid stroke, sensing my change. Before he stepped away, he lowered me to the ground, being careful not to let me fall. When his face came into view, he was unreadable.
While he pulled up and buckled his pants, I went searching for my nightgown. It was practically ripped in half. Great, now I’d have to venture up to my room naked. There had to be twenty cameras between here and there.
A shirt was draped over my shoulders. By the burgundy color, I realized it was Jamie’s dress shirt. Peeking over my shoulder, I found him in only his pants. Without saying a word, he leaned in, kissed my head and left.
CHAPTER 40
Zombie-ing out of bed, I ran into Asher out in the hall. The smell of coffee hit my nose and my eyes zeroed in on the mug he was holding. He offered me the mug. I gratefully accepted it and brought the hot liquid up to my mouth, blowing on it a few times before taking a sip. Internally, I wept for joy. It was perfect.
“Thank you, Thor, god of coffee.”
Going in for another sip, I glanced at him over my mug. The corner of his mouth twitched as he took in my appearance. It was another night of barely getting any sleep. My hair was in a tangled knot on top of my head. I was wearing baggy and tatty old sweats, because one: it had gotten cold last night. Winter was starting to rear her ugly head. And two: Jamie had ripped my nightgown apart.
“I know I look like shit. I feel like it too,” I grumbled and walked away, heading for the stairs. It was breakfast time; even despite Asher’s best efforts, I didn’t eat breakfast, but I wanted to check on Stefan. Not that I would outright ask him how he was doing; I could still sit with him and see if I could pick up on anything.
“Can you get me the names of the goons who accompanied us last night during the exchange with De Luca?” I asked over my shoulder. Asher's brows narrowed, but he nodded. “They don’t know how to keep their fucking mouths shut. My little tryst with the don reached Jamie. This was the very thing I wanted to avoid. I would rather risk it on my own than surround myself with rats,” I spewed angrily.
“Ah, that explains the mark on your neck.”
I stopped walking once I reached the bottom of the stairs and peered back at him. “What?” My hand shot up to my neck, fingers grazing a tender area of skin. That bastard! Jamie had bitten hard enough to brand me.
“You might want to put your hair down before you head in there,” he suggested, tilting his head towards the dining room. I made quick work of untying my hair and shaking it out. “I’ll track down Dean and get those names. Make sure you eat something,” he said before taking off in the opposite direction.
Jamie and Stefan were in the middle of eating their breakfast, looking ready to start their day. Conor, Rourke, and my aunt Kiara were also here. My aunt sat at the other end of the table, across from Stefan, with Conor and Rourke flanking her. Everyone glanced in my direction as I entered the room. Kiara’s face was grief stricken, eyes red and puffy. She was the only one who didn’t have a plate of food in front of her. Instead, her fingers were wrapped around a full mug of black coffee. Her eyes only met mine for a second before they dropped to stare absently at her mug. I looked from her to Stefan. Kiara’s open display of emotion made me wonder if that was how Stefan looked internally. He eyed my appearance with disdain as I made my way towards my seat at his right.
“I thought we got you proper sleepwear?”
I smiled at Stefan’s clear disapproval of my chosen ratty-tatty sweats. “Yes. Silky and skimpy sleepwear that would be perfect for summer or to entice a partner,” I retorted and finished off my coffee before placing the empty mug on the table. “I got cold.”
“You look like a homeless person,” Rourke snickered next to me.
I gasped, mocking my outrage. “Rude.”
He grinned. Fingers brushed my neck as my hair was pushed away. I stilled. Looking back at Stefan, I found him staring at my neck, or more specifically the hickey blemishing my skin. I hadn’t seen it, but if my father’s brows raising was any indication of how bad it was, it had to be ugly. Stefan’s eyes shifted from my neck to Jamie, who surprise surprise was holding an unreadable expression. Stefan cocked a brow at him. Jamie made no comment and brushed him off by stabbing more eggs with his fork. Stefan sighed, releasing my hair, then returned to eating.
Ignoring them, I looked around the table. Aunt Kiara was still fixating on her coffee while Conor kept glancing at her, concerned, in between bites of food. I leaned closer to Rourke. “What’s going on? Not that I don’t like starting my day seeing your ugly mug, but what are you all doing here?” I whispered.