“We used to work at St. Vincent Hospital, Krista in the operating room and me on the heart floor, but she’s starting as Dax’s personal scrub next week.” Flicking Krista a teasing grin, Alessa drawled, “Lucky bitch.”
“You’re just jealous,” Krista shot back, tossing a twig at her friend. The large Great Dane mix she’d adopted not long ago lay at her side. “It’s not my fault you won’t let us hook you up with someone.”
“Don’t fret, Alessa,” Hope chimed in. Sitting cross-legged on the grass in front of them, her bright blue eyes filled with mischief. “Sandie’s been after me to check out Zach’s yacht and the debauchery they indulge in on it.”
Sandie rolled her green eyes, her lips quirking as she turned to Krista. “She’s just jealous too.” She switched her gaze to Julie. “Are you aware of… um…”
Hope laughed, pointing at Sandie. “You’re blushing! She’s the least modest of us,” she informed Julie.
“Well, if you’re wondering if I know of Jackson’s… kinks, then the answer is yes, but I don’t know anything about a yacht.” It had been a long time since Julie had enjoyed sitting around talking about men, and sex. From what she’d gathered, Hope and Alessa had recently been introduced to the group also, and even though they weren’t involved with one of Jackson’s friends, they seemed to fit in with the close-knit group.
“Picture a floating sex club. Those guys, especially Dax, can get darn creative when we’re out at sea.” Krista sighed and fanned herself.
This time Hope pinkened and Sandie laughed, but a shadow clouded Alessa’s topaz eyes, a sadness Julie could commiserate with. She didn’t know if the other woman could boast any experience with the guys’ BDSM lifestyle, but despite the introductory scene Jackson put her through, she still felt like a naive outsider around Sandie and Krista. Their obvious enjoyment of Zach and Dax’s sexual proclivities was enviable, and made her wish Jackson would look at her with the same possessive, lust-filled smoldering gaze she’d seen aimed at them from their guys.
“I’ll have to ask Jackson about… oh, excuse me.” Seeing the name of her attorney displayed on her cell when it beeped, she rose to her feet. “I need to answer this. Be right back.” Irritated with the interruption, Julie walked toward the back of the house, not wanting anyone to hear her tell Bart to quit pestering her about talking to Maci and Candace’s murderer.
She put the phone to her ear as she reached the relative privacy at the rear of the house. “Bart, you better not be calling me about returning to Montana to visit Daniels.”
“Will you just hear me out, Julie? You know, once Evan heard about an eyewitness, he instructed his attorney to drop all appeals to his death sentence.”
“And,” she replied with simmering impatience. Leaning against the clapboard wall, her eyes drank in the peaceful view of Jackson’s sprawling acreage. New York couldn’t compare with Florida; why she ever thought the grass would be greener in a city of millions of people and thousands of buildings still eluded her.
“And,” he returned, mimicking her sarcastic drawl, “he has less than six weeks to live. Everyone from several clergy members to the prison’s psychologist and warden have tried to get him to fight for more time. He’s only twenty-one,” the lawyer reminded her, his voice turning gentle.
Julie closed her eyes, picturing the deformed, enraged then nineteen-year-old as she’d last seen him, and knew she couldn’t do it. The very idea turned her stomach in a nauseous roll. “I can’t—”
“Don’t say no, yet,” Bart interrupted. “Say you’ll think about it.”
“Damn it, Bart!” she exploded, pushing away from the house to pace. “I can’t think about this, or him right now. I have enough to cope with…” Julie spun around and came face to face with Jackson. Standing at the corner of the house with his feet braced apart, thick arms crossed in front of him, emphasizing his bulging biceps, and the sun shining behind him drawing out a hint of red highlights in his mahogany hair, his lowered brows and tight jaw didn’t look welcoming. “I-I have to go. We’ll talk about it later.” She snapped the phone shut and before she could make up something about the call, he advanced toward her with slow steps.
“More secrets, Julie, or would you like to share what it was about that call that has upset you?”
The hard edge to his tone made it difficult for Julie to hold her ground. Her heart pounded against her chest, her palms grew clammy and her buttocks clenched from just the look on his face, in his laser-sharp eyes. “That was Bart, my attorney.” Best to stick with at least some truth. She shrugged, as if having her lawyer pester her was no big deal. “He wants me to take care of some legal matters…”
One minute Jackson stood in front of her, glaring, and the next she found herself facing the house, her hands braced flat against the wood siding, with his hands shackling her wrists and his much taller, much harder frame pinning her in place. “Don’t you fucking lie to me, ever. I don’t deserve that.”
Wariness, the first stirrings of arousal and a spurt of anger overruled common sense and Julie taunted him with the first thing that came to mind, her frustration evident in her tone. “You’ve been walking away from me ever since that day in the barn, yet you insist I’m holding back.” A tremor ran through her when he remained quiet for several seconds, then his rough whisper in her ear set off shivers of a different kind.
“You want me, Julie? Think you can handle what I really want, what I’d insist on if we took this a step further?” Jackson pressed his pelvis against her ass and Julie groaned at the feel of his thick, engorged cock. His size was both exciting and intimidating, even with the barrier of their jeans.
“Yes,” she tossed back without hesitation. If she thought about it, he might take the pause as indecision and back away, and she was too desperate to feel his hands on her again to risk that rejection.
“You want me to see to your needs and let you keep your secrets? I don’t play that way, baby.” He released his hold on her right wrist. “But I’ll be happy to give you a demonstration of what I expect. Leave your hand there.” Jackson knew he could take this only so far since Julie still refused to talk to him about her trauma, but as his hand went to the waist of her jeans, he decided she needed to know how seriously he took his sexual preferences, and that lying wouldn’t be tolerated.
“What’re you doing?” she squeaked when he unsnapped her jeans and lowered the zipper. “Jackson, your friends are still here.” Why hadn’t she realized he meant now?
Her frantic whisper amused him, but he didn’t let it show. “So? You say you want me, then you lie. In my book, that’s grounds for punishment, regardless of where we are or who might see. Within reason and legal limits, of course. Right now, no one can see us, but it may not stay that way. What’ll it be, Julie? A lesson with my belt, or do you want to say red and end this—and anything else—right now?”
Julie wasn’t a one-time play partner he wanted to get his rocks off with. Jackson’s quick acceptance of her return and instant protective instincts when he witnessed her fear proved she was the one for him, therefore he couldn’t make any mistakes going forward, and he would never put her at risk. But he also refused to allow her any illusions concerning what he wanted, and expected, if they added sex to their relationship.
Her breathing turned labored as he inched his hand inside her loosened jeans and cupped one soft buttock. “Give me your answer.”
Julie was powerless to ignore that commanding tone with its hard edge, especially when she responded with a warm gush between her legs. “Fine. Okay.” Her comforting grace as Jackson shoved her jeans down and exposed her butt was knowing the only people still around who might hear or step around the corner and see them were his friends, who indulged in the same proclivities. The warm breeze wafting over her bared flesh drew a delicate shiver of awareness and anticipation as she held her breath and listened to the slide of his belt being removed.
Keeping his left hand wrapped around her wrist, where she s
till held both hands against the house, he shifted to her side and snapped the leather across both cheeks, the fiery burn a startling but welcome sting that stole her breath. Julie knew she’d become addicted to pain to get through the nightmares, but never imagined she would embrace it in the bright light of day with a clear head. She winced with the next cut, this one a little harder, the snap of leather against bare skin a touch louder. With the third stroke, she quit worrying whether someone might hear and lowered her head between her outstretched arms.
“That’s it, baby, lift that ass for me, for more,” he growled.
With her blood heating as fast and hot as her buttocks, Julie didn’t realize she’d raised her hips higher, a sure signal she was ready to embrace the next swat. The approval in his voice added to the warm glow spreading through her body to settle in her pussy. The fourth slash pulled a whimper past her compressed lips and the fifth a low moan from her tight throat. By the time he landed the sixth and final swat, her entire backside throbbed and burned, boosting the astonishing thrill of outdoor exposure and risk. The ache to feel Jackson’s hands on her had never been so acute.
“Jackson?” The longing for more came through in Julie’s voice, but she didn’t care. He had to already know how much she wanted him.
Jackson released her wrist and palmed both buttocks, his hands igniting the fiery heat and pain with tight squeezes. Afraid she’d crumple if she lowered her arms, Julie leaned against her braced hands, gasping when he shifted one hand to glide between her cheeks and sparks of sensation burst with the graze of his fingers over her anus. Still shuddering from that unexpected jolt of pleasure, she wasn’t prepared when he pressed his palm between her legs.
“Oh, God.” Julie almost came right then, but Jackson’s dark voice vibrated in reprimand, his words dousing her in a cold chill.
“You want more, but this is all you can have with me until you talk, Julie.” Jackson circled his palm over her damp folds, the stimulation releasing another spate of dampness. “What I desire and demand in a sexual relationship requires trust on both sides, openness and honesty. It’s not a matter of what I want to know, but what I need to know. I can’t risk your fragile mental health by possibly doing something that’ll trigger a panic attack.” He removed his hands and pulled up her jeans, the sudden loss of his touch triggering another chill.