Hard Night (11th Hour #3) Read online

  Dropping it on the nightstand, he went over to the bed and stood in front of her. She’d leaned back on her hands, apparently at ease with being naked. Her creamy skin was silky-looking and smooth, but here and there was the evidence of the injuries that had put her in the hospital. Scars from a gunshot wound on one shoulder and what looked like knife cuts on her torso and arms. There were older scars too, from what he had no idea, though if she’d been special ops like he thought, then she must have gotten them on different operations.

  Curiosity burned inside him, a curiosity that would remain unsatisfied because she wouldn’t know how she’d gotten those scars or what operations she’d been on. She knew nothing at all.

  “So do I get to see you naked?” she asked. “Or are you just going to stand there and look at me?”

  “You’re mine, Ms. Beasley. Remember that. Which means you only get whatever I choose to give you.”

  “And what if I don’t like that?”

  “Then you get nothing at all.”

  She pouted. “That doesn’t seem fair.”

  “Perhaps you should have thought about that when you told me you were mine.” He smiled, white and sharp, stepping toward her and reaching out, casually taking some of her inky hair in his fist and tugging her head back. “I meant what I said, by the way. I’m possessive and territorial, and once you’re mine I will take advantage of that mercilessly.”

  She took a small breath, her color rising beneath her skin, her gaze darkening as she looked up at him. Desire was starting to glow in her eyes, her nipples tightening even as he watched.

  She liked this. She liked being held like this.

  “And do I get any choice in the matter?” She didn’t sound scared, only curious.

  “Of course. But if you don’t want to do what you’re told like a good girl, then you don’t get nice things.”

  Something flared in her eyes, a hint of a fascinating darkness that burned like electricity in his blood, and made his cock even harder than it was already.

  “But I’m not a good girl.” Her voice had quieted, now almost a whisper, yet he heard the note of challenge in it anyway.

  He tightened his fist, drawing her head back farther. “Oh, don’t worry, Ms. Beasley. I know that already. And I’m not unhappy about it either, not at all. Because I’m not a good man.” He reached for his zipper. He hadn’t bothered to fasten his pants properly from before so all he had to do was pull it down a little way so it was open. “I’m a prick and an asshole, and the quicker you understand that the better.”

  Her mouth was slightly open, the darkness in her eyes growing deeper with every second that passed. “Please.” She didn’t hide the desperate note in her voice. “Please be naked. Please be naked with me.”

  The raw need in her expression calmed something inside him, though he had no idea what it was. The nights he’d had with other women, when he’d taken them hard and rough, when he’d made them scream . . . none of them had been as desperate to touch him, see him, as Faith had. None of them had looked into his eyes and let him see it.

  He couldn’t resist that so he didn’t.

  “You beg so beautifully.” Slowly he loosened his fist, let her go, and stood back from the bed. “So why not?”

  Reaching for the hem of his T-shirt, he drew it up, then off over his head in one movement, dropping it negligently on the floor.

  Faith’s eyes went wide, her gaze roaming over him with such avid hunger it stole his breath. “I want to touch you,” she whispered hoarsely. “Can I?”

  “Of course, but you have to earn it first.” He kicked off his boots, then shoved his pants and underwear down around his ankles before kicking those off too.

  Her eyes went wider as her gaze dropped down to where his dick stood out from his body, hard and ready. “Why do I have to do that?”

  He came back to the bed and reached for her hair once more, tangling it in his fingers and drawing her head back. “Because I said.” Carefully he studied her expression, looking for any signs of fear or discomfort. But there were none. “And because I think you like taking my orders.”

  A blush made her already pink cheeks an even deeper rose. “That’s not true.”

  “Seems like we’re both good at lying.” He smiled and gripped her tighter. “But I think you’ll like my next order.” And she would. He’d been planning on simply shoving her back onto the mattress and licking her out immediately, but there was something about her scars. They told a story that the woman who wore them didn’t remember, but the story was there all the same. It was part of her and he suspected that it was a terrible part.

  A terrible part he was trying to force her to remember, even though she didn’t want to. Yeah, he was going to be ruthless about that, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t give her something she actually did want. Give her a good moment among all the bad.

  “Open your mouth, Ms. Beasley,” he murmured.

  CHAPTER 9

  Jacob’s hand in her hair was the most delicious pressure, making her whole body feel sensitized and needy. She was conscious of the air moving over her skin and of the insane heat of his body inches from hers. Of his black eyes that seemed to see into her soul.

  She didn’t mind that. Because if there were things in there she needed to hide, she didn’t know what they were anyway.

  But she did know some things.

  She knew that being held like this made her breath catch and her heart race. That the way he’d told her that she was his and that he could do whatever he wanted with her made her sex throb.

  She knew that his naked body was a god’s and that she’d do anything he wanted—anything at all—for a chance to explore it.

  And she knew that he was right, she probably would love his next order because if he wanted her mouth open, then it was probably because he was going to put something in it. And if that something was his cock, then she’d probably die. Of happiness.

  You’re insane.

  Or drunk. Jacob-drunk. And hell, she didn’t mind that either. She didn’t mind any of the things he’d done or the things he’d said. Not being his or having to follow his orders, or even being told to be a good girl.

  Maybe because she knew he didn’t really want her to be a good girl. She’d seen the glitter in his eyes when she’d said she wasn’t good. Yes, he’d liked that very much.

  He wanted to be challenged. He wanted to be tested. And she was up for that—more than up for it.

  Her heartbeat raced. She hadn’t thought it would be possible after two such intense climaxes to be all ready to go again so soon, but apparently, it was.

  Perhaps now wasn’t a good time to test him, especially considering she desperately wanted what he was going to give her—if he was indeed going to give her what she was hoping it was.

  Perhaps now was the time to prove what a good girl she was.

  Slowly, Faith opened her mouth.

  He didn’t smile, but his stare became blacker, denser. “Very nice.” His voice had gotten impossibly deep, impossibly rough. If she could have rolled naked in that voice, rubbed the thick, velvet roughness of it all over her skin, she would have. “My sweet girl knows how to take orders.”

  My sweet girl.

  She shivered at the words, an echo of something that felt like longing whispering inside her. But she didn’t want any hint of memory to disturb what was happening right now, so she ignored it.

  “I think you want what I’m going to give you, don’t you?” Jacob’s hand in her hair tightened, sending delicate prickles of pain sparking all over her scalp.

  She nodded wordlessly, trying to force down the demand rising inside her. Trying to be patient.

  And he must have seen that too, because amusement glinted suddenly in his eyes. “You’re desperate, Ms. Beasley. I know. I can see it. But good things come to those who wait and since you’ve waited so beautifully, you’ve earned a reward.”

  Keeping one hand in her hair, he gripped his cock with the oth
er.

  Her breath caught, her gaze now riveted to where his fingers wrapped around the long, thick length of his erection. His skin was smooth, the blunt head glistening with moisture, and the deeply chiseled plane of his stomach flexed as he moved, taking a step right up close to the bed.

  She began to tremble as the hand in her hair slipped to the back of her neck, easing her forward, then applying pressure, pushing her head down.

  Then he was feeding the head of his cock into her mouth, the taste of salt and musk lying heavy against her tongue.

  She shuddered. Who knew he’d taste so good? That having him between her lips would be so damn delicious?

  He pushed in deeper, going slowly, and she angled her head to take more, because she wanted more, Holy God, she wanted whatever he could give her.

  A sound broke from him, a low rumble of pleasure that felt like a long, slow stroke down her spine. “Good girl. You’re being such a very good girl for me. Now . . .” He took a breath and it sounded ragged, and right then and there she decided that she was going to turn him inside out the way he’d done to her. “Do you know what to do from here?”

  She gave a sharp shake of her head, unable to speak since the head of his cock was brushing the back of her throat.

  “No, of course you don’t.” His thumb rubbed along the side of her neck and it felt like a reassurance. “Well, I’m in the mood to be indulgent and considering how good you’ve been for me, I’m going to let you figure it out for yourself. I’m sure you’ll suck my cock like a dream, Ms. Beasley.”

  Yes, God, yes.

  He reached for her hand and despite what he’d said about letting her figure it out, he guided her fingers to the thick base of his dick and wrapped them around it, showing her how to grip him. Then he let go.

  And he was hers now, oh yes, he was. He might think she was his—and she was and wanted to be—but it went both ways. In fact, a very female part of her was telling her that now she had him, quite literally, in the palm of her hand.

  The rush of power that came with that thought was heady, dizzying. And she had to hold him and not move for a moment simply to get used to the idea.

  Did he know that? Did he know what he’d just given her? Did he know what it meant for a woman like her, who had no power over anything, not even her own brain, to be given power over a man like him?

  Well, if he didn’t know, she was certainly going to show him.

  Experimentally, she gripped him tighter, then began to explore the hard length of him in her mouth with her tongue. He gave another low rumble in his chest, his thumb continuing to stroke the side of her neck.

  He liked that, clearly.

  So she did it again, drawing her head back to lick him, then swallowing him in deep. At the same time as she squeezed with her fist.

  Jacob made another of those rough, growling sounds and she wanted to look up and see his face, see what she was doing to him, but with his hand on the back of her neck, she couldn’t. There was only the hard, flat expanse of his stomach and the powerful width of his thighs in front of her.

  Not a bad view. But she wanted more. She wanted to touch him, run her fingers across the fascinating corrugations of his abs, feel all that cut muscle flex and release as she stroked him. Feel his smooth, hot skin . . .

  She pulled her head back and slid off the bed before he could protest, shoving at him so she could go down onto her knees in front of him. He let her, his fingers sliding into her hair and fisting tightly, a warning. Not that she needed it. Nothing on earth was going to drag her away from him now.

  She opened her mouth and took him in again, deeper, until he was brushing the back of her throat, and she kept him there as she slid her hands up his thighs, glorying in the feel of his skin under her palms.

  The grip in her hair became tighter, holding her exactly where she was, then he began to thrust into her mouth, slowly, rhythmically.

  She groaned, the heat and taste of him rich and heady, the scent of male musk making the pulse of desire between her thighs beat harder, with insistence.

  His rhythm picked up speed and she slid her hands up his thighs and around to the strong curve of his ass, loving the feel of his muscles flexing beneath her palms. She dug her nails into him and he grunted, thrusting harder.

  Clearly, he liked that, too, so she did it again, scratching him, pressing her body against his legs, her fingers coming to stroke at last those hard-cut abdominal muscles that had been fascinating her for so long.

  He felt so good and this, kneeling in front of him with his cock in her mouth, felt right. More right than anything else had since she’d woken up in that hospital bed. There was a peace inside her, as if in this moment she was finally, at last, in her own skin. She was herself in a way she hadn’t been before now.

  And then she wasn’t thinking anymore, she was touching him everywhere she could while he thrust deeper, harder, his hands in her hair almost painful. But she didn’t care about the pain. She didn’t care about the discomfort.

  Right now, right here, she was where she needed to be.

  For the first time in six months.

  She lost herself. Drowned herself in him and when, at last, he threw back his head and roared, she swallowed down everything he gave her, every inch of her own skin sensitized, the heaviness between her legs almost overwhelming. When he drew himself out of her mouth, it felt like a loss, and she found herself clutching him tighter.

  He didn’t leave her alone for long though.

  Before she even had a chance to miss him, he was bending and picking her up in his arms, then he took her to the bed and tossed her onto the mattress, following her down, prowling like a lion up her body.

  “Hold on to the headboard, Ms. Beasley,” he growled. “And don’t let go.”

  So she did, holding on tight, trembling with anticipation as he slid his big, warm palms up her thighs and lifted them, throwing them over his heavily muscled, tattooed shoulders. Then he gripped her hips and lifted those too, right up to his mouth, holding her like she was a cup he was going to drink from.

  Then he pushed his tongue through the slick folds of her sex, found the beating heart of her, and made the entire world burst into flame.

  Her body convulsed, the orgasm crashing down on her so hard she barely had any time to scream. And he didn’t stop, didn’t give her any time to even breathe, licking and exploring, pushing his tongue inside her, tasting her. He lifted her hips higher, angling his head so he could go even deeper, the feel of his whiskers on the sensitive skin of her inner thighs and the hungry, male noises he was making driving her insane.

  He was driving her insane, period.

  She didn’t think she could come again, but then he shifted his grip and used his fingers as well as his tongue and she was crashing over the edge of the universe again.

  It was bliss.

  There was nothing to think about, nothing to worry about, nothing to fear. There was only the vast wave of unrolling pleasure and his touch, his heat, the powerful, enduring presence that had been her anchor for months and continued to anchor her, holding her fast as the chaos of ecstasy tossed her up, then left her to free fall.

  Back down, into his arms.

  * * *

  Jacob rolled out of bed finally around early evening. Faith was asleep and he decided not to wake her—he was planning on giving her another workout much later that night so she was going to need to catch up on as much sleep as she could.

  They’d spent most of the day in bed, venturing out only to grab food and for Jacob to check on any replies from his contacts. Frustratingly, there were none. Which on the upside meant he could take Faith back to bed. After all, it wasn’t as if they didn’t have anything to keep them occupied.

  Pulling on some pants, he then headed out of the bedroom, making his way to the control room to do another check on his intel.

  He had a couple of e-mails waiting for him, but all they’d turned up on the Campbell guy was a big fat nothing.
The trail went dead, just stopped. Which meant that whoever Campbell was, he had pretty good people hiding his tracks.

  Jacob sat back in his chair and glowered at the screen.

  Fuck, they should have been able to turn something up. What was the point of paying all this money if people couldn’t give him what he wanted?

  Briefly, he debated paying another visit to Kellan’s father, see if he couldn’t get any more details about the gun-running ring and confirmation that it was indeed these people who were after Faith. But then he discarded the idea. Phillip Blake lived in New York State and he wasn’t going to leave Faith here by herself while he flew across the country. He didn’t want to take her with him either. It was too risky.

  Jesus, this was taking too long. The more time it took to find whoever was after her, the more time it gave them to plan and move against her, and maybe get sneakier this time. Maybe threaten other people, such as their team. He didn’t think they’d be able to find his bunker out here in the middle of the wilds of Washington State, but he didn’t like to assume they wouldn’t either.

  And if they did? Well, he had a whole armory here and the place was well fortified. He could hold it by himself if necessary. As for the rest of the 11th Hour team, well, their HQ was hidden, plus it wasn’t like the rest of them didn’t know how to defend themselves. Jack, Kellan, and Isiah could more than handle any direct physical aggression.

  With any luck, though, those assholes would be out of commission one way or another before they even got near either Faith or his team.

  A slow-burning rage smoldered inside him at the thought.

  They’d killed his driver and he was pissed enough about that, but if they even so much as touched a hair on her head he wouldn’t be responsible for what he might do.

  Restless, he pushed the chair back and stood up, reaching for his phone in his pants pocket. Then he put a call through to Isiah.

  “Any updates?” he asked brusquely.

  “No,” Isiah answered, just as brusque. “Sabrina tried to get a clear pic of the guy from the car rental security cameras but the angle was wrong. And he was wearing a cap.”