Page 51 of Enticing the Enforcer
The rhythm builds fast, needy, my body greedy for every inch of him. He grips my ass, pulling apart my cheeks, dipping his long fingers into the valley. The teasing urges me to go harder, faster, until I’m grinding down on him, chasing the high that sparks low in my belly. He rises up, his mouth finds my breast, teeth grazing before he sucks my nipple deep, pulling a broken moan from my throat.
I ride him harder, my nails digging into his shoulders. The friction, the fullness–it’s too much. My thighs tremble, the orgasm hits sharp and blinding, ripping through me as I cry out his name.
He doesn’t stop, doesn’t give me time to catch my breath before flipping us, pressing me into the mattress with his weight. He pounds into me, deep and relentless, his lips at my ear.
“Again,” he growls. “Give me another.”
And God help me, I do, the tremors starting again, spurned on by the possessive commands, the hard feel of him deep inside of me, the knowledge that his man may be all I’ve ever wanted.
From the look in his eye, I think I’m all he’s ever wanted too.
Later that afternoon,I sit cross-legged in the makeup chair, cradling my mug of tea while the artist works her brush across my lids, layering them with shimmering silver. The routine should calm me, it usually does, but Madison’s voice keeps threading through, steady and businesslike as she runs down the latest update from the arena.
“They’ve tightened security for tonight. Extra checkpoints, more staff in the pit, and backstage access is on complete lockdown.”
I nod, sipping my tea, pretending the warmth loosens the knot in my stomach. “Any idea who was behind it?”
“They’re tracking the IP for the online threats,” Madison says, glancing down at her phone. “And following up with the delivery company that brought the box in.” She goes on, explaining that they found out earlier today that the box was delivered by a company–that’s how they got through security. Somehow it was slipped in with packages by an approved vendor. The action seemed more like seeing if they could penetrate our defenses. “It could be a troll, could be something more. The police are on it.”
There had been a press conference earlier by the Atlanta Police Department, assuring everyone that the venue was safe and that tonight’s show would go on as planned. I spoke at length about it with Marv, making sure that not only was it really safe for me, but for everyone else. The fans, the arena staff, my team. The last thing I want is for anyone to get hurt.
I’ve been assured everything is under control.
My phone buzzes on the counter beside me. I don’t even reach for it. It’s been going off all day: friends, family, people checking in to make sure I’m okay. I appreciate it, I really do, but my nerves are already pulled tight, and I can’t spare the energy to reassure everyone else. Not right now.
The makeup artist tilts my chin, dusting glitter into the crease of my eyelid, when Madison’s voice shifts, softer, slyer. “So…”
I blink, my lashes brushing the brush. “So what?”
“So. He spent the night.”
A smile sneaks across my mouth before I can stop it. “He did.”
“And he didn’t seem like he was in a rush to leave this morning.”
That grin deepens, helpless. I can see him in my head again, the rumpled blond hair, steel-gray eyes still heavy with sleep, his body warm and solid against mine. I exhale a little laugh. “I would’ve stayed in bed with him all day if I could’ve.”
Madison narrows her eyes like she’s pressing me for details. “That good?”
“Incredible,” I admit, my voice low, almost reverent.
She leans in, conspiratorial. “I’m listening.”
Madison has been with me through the highs and lows, the heartache and euphoria. Sharing some goodness after the last few months of Jake induced pain, seems fair.
I set the mug down, curling my fingers together in my lap. The words come out in pieces, colored by memory. “He was… sweet. But strong. The kind of strong that doesn’t just overwhelm you, it holds you up. He asked if I had regrets before I even had the chance to think them, and when I said no, he smiled like he already knew. He kissed me like I mattered.” My throat tightens, heat spreading in my chest. “He worried about me. About everything.”
Madison’s brows lift, and her mouth curves into a knowing smirk.
I duck my head, though I can’t wipe the silly smile off my face.
“I saw his friends checked out,” she says casually, flipping through her notes.
“They had to get back,” I reply, still caught up in the glow of remembering. “But he’s staying one more day.”
And just saying it out loud makes my pulse quicken. I can’t stop thinking about the way he felt inside of me, but it’s more than that. I’m not used to this–someone choosing me when they don’t have to. Making the sacrifice instead of forcing meto choose. Most men I’ve been with have made me feel like my career was a third person in the relationship, this jealous ghost they couldn’t compete with. Like I had to make myself smaller, dim my own spotlight, just to make them feel big enough. I learned early on that it’s dangerous, being too much. Too successful. Too visible. Toome.
But Jefferson didn’t flinch. Not after the concert when our night was almost ruined. Or when I let myself go with him completely. Not even in the light of day, after he had me, when the reality of who I am–what I am–was right there between us. He didn’t treat me like a prize to be won or a trophy to show off. He just…held me, kissed me, made me laugh. He made me feel like Ingrid the person, not Ingrid the name on a sold-out tour poster.
