Page 89 of Somebody's Watching Me
Hard.
“Why, Jamison?”
“Because I need you.”
Twisting the T-shirt in one hand, he shoved it upward, the action causing the collar to constrict her air supply slightly. Exposed to him and the rest of the world, the cool night air rushed across her skin. Facing away from the house, none of the guards could see, but Rowan or Abe would get an eyeful if they opened their cottage doors.
“And why do you need me to come, Jamison?”
He wasn’t looking at her when he asked the question, instead tracing the soft planes of her body on display with his eyes. Since their breakup, she hadn’t exactly been taking care of herself, and a healthy dose of self-consciousness kicked in. The exercises she kept up with helped, but when you consumed a pint of ice cream almost every night because it was the only thing you had to look forward to, it really didn’t matter. The squishy parts stayed squishy.
He released the T-shirt, only to lock a hand around her throat. “Answer my question.”
She licked her lips which had gone dry from all the panting she was doing. “I don’t know.”
That was not the correct answer.
Using the grip on her neck, he pulled her in for a punishing kiss. The hard crush of his lips reopened the cut left by Michael, but it didn’t matter. The relief surging through her veins from the contact overrode the pain, and she whimpered, wanting him to make it hurt.
As their tongues battled for dominance, his hand massaging her breast dragged lower, down to her stomach until it disappeared beneath the waistband of her shorts. The first touch between her legs was like an electric jolt, and she rolled her hips in time with the circling pulses of his fingertips.
Breaking the kiss, Liam watched her, breathing hard as the side of his mouth curved upward in satisfaction. Over in some vague corner of her mind, the sound of her cell phone ringing in the pocket of the robe registered. But before she could process that someone was calling, Liam sank a single finger inside, and she was gone. The entire world could be ending, and she would have no idea. Being filled, and knowing it was him doing it, felt so good.
Bowing forward, she relaxed into the hold on her throat.
“Because it’s mine to give.” He pumped hard and fast, the palm of his hand slapping against her tender flesh. The sweatpants were looseenough to provide him with a full range of motion, and spreading her legs, she gave him room to do as he pleased. “Your pleasure belongs to me, and I decide when you can have it.”
A second finger joined the first, and grabbing his shoulders, she used him as leverage to grind. “Give me.”
“Ask nicely, Jamison.”
Bare to the world, she rode his fingers, head tipped back, and lips parted. She had never been so needy, craving the release offered to the point of pain. “Please,” she begged, through the rough drags of air sawing in and out of her mouth. “Please, let me come.”
His knowledge of her body was a dangerous thing, and with a slight shift in his fingers, he hit the spot that would ignite her orgasm with precise accuracy.
“Jesus… Fuck… Liam.”
She tried to be quiet. Tried to whisper as her body shook and trembled. But the more she silenced herself, the harder she came.
“Look at you.” Liam watched her with amusement as the orgasm took hold and wouldn’t let go. “It really has been a while, hasn’t it, baby?”
Shuddering violently, she nodded as her eyes rolled closed. “I need more.”
He released her throat and dropped the shirt, covering her again. “I’ll give you more, but you have to promise me something.”
When he removed his fingers, she shamelessly whined in disappointment. This man owned every part of her. Heart. Body. Soul. It was his. She had a lot of mistakes to make up for and would begin to do so as soon as they were inside the cottage.
“Anything.” Her head bobbed. “Promise.”
The faint sounds of a phone ringing returned, but this time it was coming from Liam’s. “Don’t get angry.”
“What do you mean?”
Answering the call, he placed it on speaker. “Did you get him?”
“Oh, yeah,” Rowan shouted at the same time a police siren wailed from the front of the house. “She was right. Sinclair is hanging in a building close to train tracks about sixty miles from here. Police are en route.”
Confused as to what was happening, Jamison shoved away from the tree. The blue light of a security camera caught her eye, and it was then she realized that every lens across the lawn was aimed directly at her.
