Page 26 of Deny Me

I felt his back tense under my grip, but he didn’t pull away. His fingers dug into my bare back and stroked up and down my naked spine. His dark eyes searched mine, but his lips stayed pursed in thought.

“Speechless?”

He remained quiet and I cocked an eyebrow waiting for a response. Instead he twirled me out and yanked me back in an embrace tighter than before. More intimate than before, pressing his leg between mine and stealing all thought from my mind. We might as well have been a couple from Dirty Dancing with the way he held me close and made me grind on his leg.

And then the plans of how to win were gone. My feelings were no longer about ways I could push him so I could be the victor. I forgot about taunting him, I forgot the game we were playing. All my focus was on his large hand on my bare back, my clit grinding on his thigh, the way his hard dick pressed into my hip, and the way his eyes kept dropping to my pebbled nipples.

The humidity of the night was making my skin glisten and mixed with the way my body overheated from the inside out. My heartbeat pounded in my chest, matching the throb in my core. I couldn’t take it anymore. I didn’t know what the game was, but I didn’t want to play anymore. Everything left my mind as we shifted in a different direction and the focus became finding a way for us to reach the finish line together. I wanted us to stop torturing each other. I wanted him to stop denying me and give me what his body was promising in this moment. My body was past the breaking point, strung so tight I thought I would snap if he didn’t touch me, kiss me, fuck me.

Standing on my tiptoes, I nipped his ear and breathed, “Take me back to your room.”

A vibration came against my lips from where they moved to press against his throat, not backing down and pushing it as far as I could. His fingers formed a bruising grip on my hip, pulling a gasp from me as he fought an internal battle with himself.

“Stop denying me. Stop denying yourself this pleasure. Remember how good it felt to give in in the storage closet? I can remind you.” I pulled back and stared in his eyes as I pressed my core up against his, rubbing against his erection. He needed to see that I wasn’t playing anymore. “Please,” I begged. My pride was gone.

He whipped around with my hand in his and began pulling me through the crowd of couples lost in their own bubbles of sexuality and rhythm. We walked out past the bar and began our trek through the jungled walkway filled with deep green ferns and palm trees creating a canopy over us. We barely passed anyone else since it was so late at night. Only the sound of the branches rustled by the wind created from the shore surrounded us, giving quick glimpses of the stars above. Tiki torches spaced intermittently lit the way, keeping the mood low and sensual. Everything the resort promised. It’s like the hotel was cheering us on. Do it. Do it.

Jameson and me. Almost running down the path, hand in hand, rushing to get to his room so we could finish whatever the hell started on that dance floor. Hell, whatever had started years ago when I cornered him at King’s. Ever since then we had been dancing around each other. Our taunting and bickering had changed into something with much more serious undertones. It was no longer Jameson blushing when I talked about oral sex or wore low-cut tops to see if I could catch him staring and embarrass him. Embarrass him like I used to be able to.

Like when he confessed he thought about me and jacked off to me. When he pinned me to a wall and shoved his fingers inside me. When I got drunk and acted like a jealous cow at seeing him with another woman. Things changed. The taunts then became littered with hints of truth. The tricks and comments were filled with the ways we wanted each other. We just wanted it different ways.

But finally, in Jamaica, I would win. He would be mine. A giggle broke free from my lips at the thought. He looked back and jerked to a stop when he saw the curve of my lips.

“What’s so damn funny?” he grumbled.

Another giggle spilled from my lips. “Nothing.” He leveled me with an unamused stare forcing me to confess. “Just that this is happening. Us running through this forest, desperate to make it to a place where you can finally fuck me.”

He cocked his head and studied my lips tipped up in satisfaction. His eyes narrowed and he faced me. “You find this funny, Evelyn?” My shoulders shrugged in response, not at all sorry. He stalked toward me, the flames flickering across his face, making it hard to read his expression. When he got closer, his tall, broad body blocked out any light, casting his face in full shadow. He grabbed my other hand, shocking the shit out of me when he placed it directly on the bulge in his pants. “You find this fucking funny?”

Jameson was so sexually bold, and I’d forgotten. It had been a long two and a half years where I’d tried not to think about how forceful he was with me or the dirty words he whispered into my skin. It only took a moment for me to pull myself out of my stupor and into action, reminding him that I was usually in control. I gripped my fingers around his girth, relishing the feel of him in my hand as I stroked him over the soft material of his dress pants. His hips thrust and he grunted. “No, Jameson. I find it fucking hot as hell that this will be pounding into me tonight”. I closed the small distance between us, pressing my breasts against him. “You will be pounding into me, right?”

“You have no fucking idea, Evelyn. I have years’ worth of pent-up desire to take out on you.” He murmured, close to my lips.

“Bring it on, baby.” I flicked my tongue out against his bottom lip. He growled again and started pulling me along the path. “Oooo, going all caveman on me, Jamie-Boy? Don’t tease me,” I called out from behind him, playfully.

“Evelyn, do me a favor and stop calling me Jamie-Boy for tonight.”

I heaved a sigh. “I guess. Does it make it hard to get it up when I taunt you?” I teased.

“Your taunting has been making me hard for years.”

I almost tripped over my flip flops, not quite used to his honesty. I always knew I had affected him, but to finally hear him confess to it still caught me off guard.

“Whatever you say, Jamie-Boy … I mean, Jameson.” I laughed, running to keep up behind him. With this banter, the walk would take no time and I would be revved up even more when we reached the room.

“I’m gonna fuck your mouth to make you shut up for once.”

Heat slammed into my chest and spread up my neck into my cheeks. Fuck, that was hot. He didn’t say it at me or even loud enough to hear. But I did and it snapped something inside me. I couldn’t wait to make it to the room to feel his lips against mine again. Just a kiss. That was all I wanted to tide me over.

I dug in my heels and held tight to his hand when he jerked to a stop, pulling me forward a few steps. He turned around to see what I was stopping for and I launched myself at him, jumping into his arms, pressing my lips to his.

It had been too long since I had felt the soft fullness of his lips pressed against mine. And it was only once, but the comfort of the memory rushed over me, settling somewhere deep in my chest. I had kissed so many men in my twenty-eight years and none of them had made the soft warmth bloom in my chest the way Jameson did. I didn’t want to dwell on what that feeling meant. Instead, I basked in his arms wrapped tightly around me and the way his lips parted, his tongue demanding entrance into my mouth.

I opened my lips and brushed my tongue against his, tasting the tang of lime we’d had with our tequila. He let my feet touch the ground and one hand moved to my ass, gripping it tightly as the other tangled into my long, dark hair. I pulled back and bit into his plush bottom lip, letting him suck my cupid’s bow into his mouth. Our kiss became desperate and almost violent with the need that bubbled out between us. His thick stubble abraded my lips, and I relished the sting. Years of pent-up desire pushed us to kiss harder, with more passion. I had to pull my head away and let air fill my lungs that were being squeezed by my excitement. He kissed down my neck and gripped my bare thigh through the slit in my dress, making his way down to my collarbone. He nipped it roughly, pulling a cry from me.

He rested his bent head against my chest, panting, trying to regain control. His hand on my leg gripped tight enough to leave a mark, and it only excited me more. But I let him have his moment and held his head to my chest as we both panted into the night.

“Fuck it,” he murmured into my chest, gripping my other thigh and lifting me up. My dress rose and parted at the slit, allowing me to wrap my legs around his waist. The world spun when he turned in a different direction and walked off the path into the trees. He brushed through the bushes and into an opening with a small building that must have been storage. He pressed my back up against the rough stucco wall and paused.

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