Mystery Man
Page 86

Hand on the handle, she turned to me. “I understand, Gwen, and I’m sorry, I can see you’re upset and I can also see just how upset you are which makes me think and what it makes me think is that I’m disappointed in you.”
God! Shot to the heart. I barely knew her and it killed that she was disappointed in me.
And then, before I could say a word in my defense, just like a Delgado, right in front of me she disappeared.
Shit!
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Boston
A warm hand hit the small of my back, weight hit the bed, I opened my eyes, saw dark and my body was turned, hitting the hard wall of Hawk’s.
What on earth?
He shifted into me so I took the weight of him and I didn’t have the chance to say a word when his mouth was on mine.
What. On. Earth?
Before I could lose my head and my control, my hands went to his shoulders and I pushed. Then I tore my mouth from his by wrenching my head to the side.
“Get off me!” I demanded, pushing again.
“He f**k you?” Hawk growled into my ear, his hands moving down, going in, fisting in my nightshirt, pulling it up.
What was happening? Why was he there?
“What?” I snapped. “Who?”
His hands pulled my nightshirt up further. “Tack, babe, you let him f**k you?”
My head righted and I squinted my eyes at him in the dark. “That’s none of your damned business!”
“You let him kiss you, right in your f**kin’ living room.”
Um… what?
“What?” I whispered.
“Got cameras in your house.”
My body stilled. “Since when?”
“Since the kidnapping, Gwen.”
Oh my God. I didn’t know what to do with this. What did I do with this?
“You can’t have cameras in my house!” I yelled, shoving at his shoulders again. “You can’t watch me anymore!” I kept shouting. “And you can’t be here!” I finished shouting.
“I’m here,” he growled, the nightshirt now up to my ribs.
“I see that and feel it but I want you to go.”
One of his hands left my nightshirt so he could wrap his fingers and thumb around my jaw, positioning my face, his entire weight on my body pinning me down, my hands were useless, totally, and I was no match for his strength when he held me steady and kissed me.
But this wasn’t going to happen to me again. Not again. He wasn’t going to think he could start this up again. Taking what he wanted and holding everything back.
No way. No f**king way.
So I fought him. I fought his mouth and his hands and his body.
He was too strong and he knew what he was doing. But he also knew he was a lot stronger than me so the one advantage I had was that he didn’t want to hurt me.
I didn’t share the same desire.
So I didn’t fight fair. I was vicious and I was determined and I used everything I had.
Unfortunately, when I was biting him, I tasted him and smelled him. Then, also unfortunately, somewhere along the way he quit trying to contain me and started doing other things to me. Therefore, somewhere along the way, I lost my nightshirt. Then I lost my determination. Then my fighting became something just as strong and overpowering and that something was hunger.
I had him on his back and I didn’t jump away. Oh no, not me. Not stupid, stupid me.
I used my hands, lips and tongue to touch him, taste him, his chest, his ni**les, down, his abs, down, I wrapped my hand around his hard c**k and circled the tip with my tongue.
Mm.
Then I was in the air a brief second before I was on my back, my panties were gone a second later and my knees were lifted high with Hawk’s hands at the back of them, then they were spread wide. Then his mouth was on me. He wasn’t feeling insatiable. He was feeling in the mood to savor. So he did. He savored me and I not only let him, I slid my fingers over his hair and held him to me, it felt that good.
He took me close, God, so close, unbelievable and I was about to come, whimpering and whispering, “Baby,” when his mouth went away, he turned me to my belly, spread my legs again, positioned between them and yanked up my h*ps so we were both on our knees.
Then he was inside me, pounding deep. Beautiful.
I arched my chest into the bed and stretched my arms out in front of me, palms into the headboard as I reared back to meet his thrusts. God, I loved this. Fucking loved it.
“Touch yourself, baby,” Hawk ordered, his voice thick and one of my hand moved from the headboard and slid between my legs. “That’s it,” he growled, “help me out.”
I helped him out, whirling as he thrust, my moans drowned by the pillow, it didn’t take long before I came and I did it hard.
It took Hawk longer, his grip tight on my hips, he pounded in as he pulled me back and, even coming down, I loved the feel of him.
Then he groaned as his thrusts magnified, driving deep, he kept taking me as he cl**axed.
Then the power of his movements gentled but he kept moving inside me, gliding in and out slowly, an intimate caress, the most intimate there was. His fingers stopped gripping my h*ps and slid soft against the skin of my ass, my lower back, hips, down the sides and back of my thighs and it felt nice. Sweet and nice.
I closed my eyes, my face still in the pillow.
I was such… a… slut.
How humiliating was this? There was no degree. It was off the charts. They had to make new charts to measure this kind of humiliation.
Finally he slid out and started to drop to his side at the same time I felt his hand curl around my waist to take me with him but, quick as I could, I slid away. Jumping off the bed, I bent, snatched my nightshirt off the floor and I pulled it on while I raced from the room.
I went to the bathroom and locked the door. Then I turned on the light and stood there shaking.
What was wrong with me?
The tears threatened but I beat them back by deep breathing. Then I snatched a washcloth out of my bathroom closet, turned on the faucet until the water was hot and then I cleaned him from me.
He would leave. He would leave. He always left.
Then I needed to move. Not houses, to a different state. I could work anywhere. I was free to go. It would suck, leaving everyone behind but I was up for the adventure. Dad had taken us to Boston when I was a kid, we toured the Constitution. We went to Lexington Green. We ate clam chowder and I loved it. We had lobster and that was still my most favorite thing. I was into history. I was into lobster. I could do Boston.
I sat on the toilet, thinking of Boston and I listening but I wouldn’t hear him leave. But he’d leave. He’d go. I knew it.