Page 78 of Jig's Last Dance
The anger and fear from before linger in the set of his mouth when he raises his gaze to mine before he spreads my nether lips with his fingers and dips his tongue inside once more. This isn’t a slow caress meant to stoke my fire but an all-out assault as he lashes me with his tongue.
Regardless, I’m at the precipice, so I grab his hair before grinding into his face.
“Fuck,” he growls, thrusting like a madman.
“Jig,” I say, tugging on his hair. I’m senseless. Everything is pulsing as he brings me to the edge. But when he runs his fingers between my ass cheeks, I pause, glancing into his brilliant eyes.
His lips curl in a wicked grin, and he runs his fingers over my rosette. Whimpering, I watch wide-eyed as he brings me to the brink with one finger inside me and the other rubbing over my bum.
“Your pretty little ass wants me to fuck it, sunshine.”
I shake my head vehemently, but he just raises a brow before lifting me and spreading me wide. With an experimental lick, he runs the tip of his tongue over my back hole. I groan. It feels wrong but so right, and I don’t know what to do, so I let him take me on this wild and glorious ride.
“You taste good, sunshine. So fucking good,” he groans, lapping me up and sliding inside.
“Oh, oh god,” I groan.
With a weird growl, he sucks me down, and I shoot to the top before falling over with a cry. I think I black out because when I come to, he’s standing over me, palming his erection. He licks his lips, his eyes like fire, before tugging on the length.
He’s so beautiful, standing before me with his brilliant gaze, and I soak it in with a sigh, running my eyes over the blanket of tattoos that cover his torso.I never got to play with those nipple rings, I think absently before his brows arch, and I flush.
Did I just say that out loud?
“Oh baby, there’s plenty of time for that,” he says wickedly before sliding inside.
“Fuck,” he groans, and I smile. For once, he’s caught up in me, and it feels so fucking good.
Squeezing my muscles, I grin when he gasps, then all thought flies out the window because he grabs my legs and thrusts into me over and over. With a squeal, I grab the blankets below me and hold on as he seeks his pleasure, his hands wrapped roughly around my hips.
I can only hold on for the ride. Miraculously, I feel another orgasm rush through me as my eyes roll back in my head and a tidal wave of pleasure flows through me.
Jig glances up, his dilated eyes meeting mine before he bottoms out and presses impossibly farther inside. Moaning, I arch against him, sighing when I feel the warm wet trickle of his pleasure flood my walls.
“Shit,” he groans, collapsing over me. With a shiver, I wrap my legs around his waist and hold him close while he heaves.
It’s peaceful as we catch our breath and I relive every delicious moment before the smile on my lips slowly fades. I want more. I want so much more, but I can’t have it.
But maybe I can hold onto it while I can. Is that foolish?
I don’t know.
Chapter Eleven
For the following few days, I lick my wounds. I have too much to worry about with the revelation from John and Jig’s confirmation. Now, I have to decide what to do. If Uncle Sal is using me for revenge, how do I get out of it?
The man probably had my father killed, and my father was a trained killer. I’m no match for him. I’d laugh about it if I didn’t feel like crying.
What did John mean about the cabin? Is my dad’s body there? Fuck me. All I have are questions with no damn answers.
After school, I stop by the house. Ben isn’t home, and the locks have indeed been changed, but it doesn’t stop me from climbing through my old bedroom window. Four years of sneaking out means getting back in is a piece of cake.
Once inside, I wander through my room, smiling at the contents of my childhood. I was so happy, if naive. Now I’m fucking jaded as all hell. Would I still be in the dark if Dad wasn’t dead? Did my mom know?
With a shrug, I head down the hall to their room, still exactly as it was the day they left and never returned. Ben never bothered to take over the master, and basically, the door was closed on that life. When I enter, it’s a time capsule that still smells of my mom’s perfume beneath a layer of dust.
The bed is unmade; the covers are kicked to the bottom. Dad’s pillow has an indentation from where he slept the night before he died. Mom’s nightdress is lying on the ottoman at the bottom of the bed, tossed there before she showered, no doubt.
When I try to remember what happened before Ben started calling everyone we knew, I come up blank. Did I kiss them goodbye? Or did I ignore them in my teenage naïveté?