Page 14 of Speechless
More. She didn’t know whatmorewas, but she wanted it. Held captive in his hands, Jenna beseeched him with her eyes and poured every ounce of desperation intothe look.
“Say my name.”
Jenna jerked back in shock and confusion. She frowned at him, at the powerful resonance in his voice that reflected his dominant persona. She couldn’t say her own name, never mind his.
“You want more, baby? I do. I want to know how you taste. How you respond to my kiss. But more than anything, I want to hear your pretty little voice wrap around my name.” His lips were a scant inch away from hers, his breath warm on her face. “Say it, Jenna.Say it.”
Connor. Connor. Her throat muscles strained with the effort to do as he ordered. Tears of frustration burned trails down her cheeks as she mouthed the word without a sound. Distressed, she dropped her forehead to his chest.
Connor’s arms came around her, pulled her tight against him and she sagged into the embrace. She snuffled pitifully as he tipped her head back so their eyes met. Then his mouth slanted over hers, all soft and warm, a long way from the ravenous kiss she’d expected.
Inside her, warmth spread from her chest down through her stomach to that odd place at the apex of her thighs. She pressed against him, against that hardened part of him that rubbed so delightfully over her center.
Jenna wanted to crawl inside him, to keep this feeling forever. To feel his tongue make love to hers even as his body mimicked the action. But his arms stayed wrapped around her, his hands kneading her flesh softly but not moving anywhere.
What the hell is wrong with me? She thought dejectedly. She still had her brain, her tongue, her vocal cords intact. They just couldn’t work together to form the damn words she wanted to say!
“It’s okay, baby. The words will come, I promise.” His mouth crooned near her ear, so calm and confident he quashed her rising anxiety. “No harm in trying, right?” He drew away from her, taking his warmth and his solidarity, and Jenna felt her body react vehemently to the separation. She clung to him.
In return, he pressed his lips to the crown of her head. “Time for breakfast, baby.”
What was food compared to the sustenance she gained when his arms came around her? She had managed to survive for months on little to no food, on scraps stolen here and there as she prepared Sire’s meals. She didn’t know if she could survive the loss of Connor’s touch.
But her hand was clasped firmly in his and she found herself following him gingerly on sore feet. Wherever he took her, she would stay with him.
*
The plate of food mocked her.
Jenna stared at it, at the two slices of lightly toasted bread slick with golden butter. They sat on the plate, smelling like heaven and making her stomach clench viciously with the need to shove them into her mouth, all at once.
But they mocked her, weaving their scent around her while Sire’s voice rumbled through her mind like a mantra:Not yours. Never yours. Not yours. Never yours. Not yours. Never yours.
Nothing was ever hers; the shed where she existed, the ratty blanket…even those, her basic items, did not belong to her. Sire made sure she understood that from the moment she’d awoken in his prison for the first time.
So she stared at the mocking plate, her mouth practically salivating. She could all but taste the butter, feel the toast rip between her teeth. But it wasn’t hers, would never be hers.
Connor cocked his head and frowned at her. His big hand nudged the offending plate closer to her. “You can’t tell me you’re not hungry, sweetheart.”
She licked her lips, swallowed down a pool of saliva that threatened to choke her. In reply, her stomach growled angrily, furious at being denied what it so badly wanted.
But the consequences were too much to risk.
She wanted to cry when Connor pulled the plate back toward him, barely restrained herself from yanking it out of his grasp. It had been a trick after all, but she consoled herself with the knowledge she’d passed the test. She hadn’t broken, she’d stayed strong and resisted temptation.
“Here. If you don’t eat, Jenna, I will be forced to take drastic measures.” Connor’s voice was grim, flat as he methodically cut both pieces of toast into quarters. He set the food back in front of her. “Don’t make me get the feeding tube out, sweetheart; it’s not something I want to put either of us through.”
It took everything inside her, every last shred of self-control, to shove the plate away. Defeated, she let her head thunk onto the table with a heavy sigh.
“No. No, you damn well don’t.”
Connor’s hand clamped down on her shoulders, pulled her back into a sitting position. With one hand, he dragged his chair around to sit in front of her. Irritation reflected in his every movement and set Jenna on edge. “I don’t know what that bastard did to you, but I’m not going to let you starve to death in my care because you’re, what, still adhering to his bullshit rules?”
Whoa, was he psychic?
“Now, open up.” His gray eyes narrowed when they locked on hers.
His voice, his posture, his expression all changed into something stronger, more powerful. Jenna sensed the change in him before the full force of his dominance washed over her and pressed every single one of her submissive buttons.