Crave Page 7

  Somehow, my clit got stimulated, and I whimpered. “You think?”

  He did it again and then sighed, pulling me against him. “I think your brothers are lucky that he’s gone.”

  I agreed with him. “And so am I.”

  Suddenly, Jamison’s body stiffened. “Did he ever touch you?”

  I pondered Jamison’s question, and something occurred to me. “Do you know, you’re the first person, other than my brothers and my therapist, who’s asked me that question.”

  He stopped stroking my hip. “Then he did touch you?”

  “No. He tried, but Jasper stopped him, and from then on, he pretended I didn’t exist.”

  Jamison grunted thoughtfully.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Nothing. Just, you make sense to me now, that’s all.”

  I frowned. “I don’t get it.”

  “You’re so damn beautiful, Bryn. Women who look like you know their power and use it to get whatever the hell they want. But you don’t do that.”

  I grunted thoughtfully. I would have turned to see his face, but I loved the way his erection between my thighs teased my pussy. I felt as if at any moment, he would ram it inside me.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “Are you trying to figure out my particular daddy issues?”

  Jamison snorted softly in my ear and then kissed the side of my neck. “No, that’s not it.”

  His tenderness made me wetter. “You know how you carried my purse and briefcase?”

  “Yeah…” he said as if he was trying to figure out why I’d mentioned that.

  “No guy has ever done that for me before.”

  “No guy’s ever carried your things for you? I’m sure your brothers have. Haven’t they?”

  I thought hard, trying to remember an instance. “I think my brothers wanted me to learn rugged individualism within an environment where servants were paid to make my life overly comfortable.”

  Jamison grunted thoughtfully, and I explained how Jasper had run the household in my father’s constant absence. “He once told me, ‘Bryn, I don’t want you to get used to this shit just in case one day it’s taken away from us.’”

  “You’re telling me Jasper Christmas believed he could lose all the money your family has?”

  I chuckled as I remembered what I was thinking when Jasper issued me the warning. “No… I don’t think so. I don’t even think what he said came from him.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “His mother. My mother. Amelia…” I was on the verge of revealing something to a man who, by all indications, was my brother’s foe. Making love to and falling for him was bad enough. “Forget it.”

  He moved my hair to kiss the back of my neck. “You can trust me, Bryn.”

  I fell silent. Can I? I wanted to trust him, but I knew all about deception. We had a once-in-a-lifetime soul connection, but Jamison was still working for his father, which meant he hadn’t given up on trying to please Boomer Cox.

  “Have you read The Dark Christmases?” I asked.

  Jamison sniffed. “From cover to cover.”

  I chuckled. “Why did you read it?”

  “I wanted to get to know you better.”

  I twisted around to see his face. “Then you read it after you met me?”

  He planted a tender kiss on my lips, sending my heart racing to the moon. “Yes,” he whispered.

  His handsome face was so close to mine. We beamed at each other. “Well… you surely got to know me better,” I said.

  The breath from his long sigh expanded across my face. “Oh shit…”

  Striking like a viper with its prey, Jamison clutched my hip. I listened to myself release an unrestrained gasp as he shoved his thick, hard cock inside me.

  Round Three.

  JAMISON COX

  I have two handfuls of her perfect cone-shaped tits. Her hard nipples are against my palms. I want to bust right through her. My desire for Bryn Christmas is beyond reason.

  I suck on the back of her shoulder. She shudders and sighs. Her salty skin is soft as air against my tongue, and the warmth, slipperiness, and tension around my dick make me…

  “Oh…” My voice shakes as I experience pleasure that’s unlike any other.

  But I’m not done. I put her on her back. I suck her pointy tits. They’re deep in my mouth. I bite a nipple. Not too hard, but I want her to feel it.

  “Ah,” she grunts.

  Yes. Fuck… umm… I shove my fingers up her wet pussy, thumb against her clit. “Come for me, baby. Let me hear you come.”

  I work her clit. I eat her tits. I finger fuck her until her pussy tightens and she says, “Aah!”

  I wanted her to get some rest so she could be fresh for work at sunup, but I couldn’t let her sleep. I was overdosing on Bryn Christmas. I’d fantasized about what was happening between us thousands of times while masturbating.

  “That wasn’t supposed to happen,” I whispered and pelted her back and the nape of her neck with kisses. “Umm…”

  “Was it the book that inspired you to fuck me?” Bryn’s tone was somber, her body motionless.

  I leaned over her shoulder to see her face. “Are you okay?” I asked, hoping I hadn’t unintentionally offended her.

  “I’m fine.” Her smile let me know she meant what she said. “I just want to know if you were having sex with me or her.”

  “Who do you mean by ‘her’?”

  “Her—the Bryn Christmas depicted in the book.”

  I pondered her question, recalling the evening I started reading the biography about her family. I’d had a long and taxing day at the San Francisco office. My father, who I hadn’t heard from in weeks, had shown up and put himself in every major decision that had been mine to make. As usual, Boomer hadn’t informed himself of the ins and outs of each situation, yet he insisted on interjecting himself and changing carefully set plans of action according to his gut.

  His barging in and taking control had been getting worse as he’d gotten older, and he even liked to put me down while he built himself up in front of our staff. On the drive home, I thought of ways of talking my father into finally retiring and leaving the business to me. Ever since the Spencer Christmas situation, we’d lost multiple accounts. Our candidate lost big in that race, and everyone knew why. We’d fucked with the Christmases, and no one wanted Jasper Christmas on their bad side if they could help it. We could have helped it. I knew better. Jada Christmas had requested my services. I told Boomer about it, and despite everything we knew about starting trouble with one of the most powerful families in the world, he saw an opportunity to play Patricia Forte against her son-in-law so our candidate could have a better shot at winning. I was never going to accept Jada’s job offer. When I arrived at our meeting, my goal was to persuade her to convince her husband to drop out of the race. I had no doubt Spencer Christmas was going to win—every poll showed it. I also knew, by chronicling every statement Spencer made publicly, that he didn’t give two shits about politics and was only in the race to beat his mother-in-law.

  Then Bryn appeared at our table. She was a game changer. Boomer’s plan remained the same, though—I was supposed to destroy Spencer’s campaign from the inside. I was sort of okay with it because I knew he didn’t want to win. If we’d left it at that, there never would have been any bad blood between the Coxes and the Christmases. But losing to Michael Black angered Boomer. My dad was from a different generation. He’d learned that powerful meant being a mean asshole who had the right to bring a bazooka to a stick fight. Without my knowledge, Boomer had fired not one but two rockets at the Christmases. Jasper had been making us pay for it ever since.

  So the Christmases, especially Bryn, had been on my mind that evening when I returned home, frustrated about my father’s inability to learn a lesson about messing with the wrong people. I believed I’d lost Bryn for good, and soon I would be hearing about her marriage to some other lucky guy. My housekeeper had set the package
containing the Christmas family biography on top of a pile of mail on the desk in my home office. I ripped the package because I knew what was inside. Still standing, I read the first page. The language immediately sucked me in.

  Unable to stop reading, I sat on the sofa, and hours later, near sunup, I was fighting sleep and upset with myself for not getting the rest I needed to get through a full day of work—I had to convince a handful of prospective clients to let me run their campaigns. But I couldn’t put the book down.

  At six o’clock in the morning, I called my secretary and asked her to reschedule my appointments for that day. I told her I was under the weather. I wasn’t. Then I took the book to my bedroom. Lying on my bed, I read Holly Henderson Christmas’s depiction of Bryn twice. The book described how they met initially during college orientation and how Holly thought it was strange that Bryn whispered when she spoke. Then Holly went into an account of a bored heiress who was always up to no good. After the third time I read it, I seized my dick and fantasized about pounding the hell out of that fucking bad girl as I masturbated.

  After I came, I’d been embarrassed and thought, What the hell was that? I wasn’t the sort of guy who used sex as power. I was still confused by why that had turned me on. I could still remember my favorite passage from the book.

  I heard a finger snap. “Earth to Jamison.”

  I blinked myself back to the moment. She was smiling at me. Her face was angelic, but more importantly, so was her heart.

  “I was just remembering my favorite part of the biography,” I said.

  Turning her head slightly, she narrowed an eye. “Oh yeah?”

  I trailed a finger down the side of her soft face. “‘Her hair was short, curly, and as soft as her practiced whispery tone. She reminded me of a blond flapper girl from the 1920s. Her skin was like delicate porcelain and her smirk as sensual as a red-lace bow. She was the embodiment of American perfection down to its mythical construction. But if you looked closely, paid attention, you would see the truth. Bryn Christmas wasn’t like the other girls, nor was she like me. She wasn’t an angel or a devil, good or bad. Occasionally, I caught myself wondering if she truly existed. Bronwyn Henrietta Christmas was an alien, and her upbringing was the planet that had made her.’”

  Bryn’s jaw had dropped. “You remember that?”

  I smirked, feeling proud of myself, wanting her to know that was how into her I was. “Yeah.”

  “Wow.” She propped herself up on her arm.

  We stared into each other’s eyes. Damn. I craved her so damn much. My dick was in down-boy mode for the rest of the night. I’d given her all I had, but I wanted to draw her under me, suck on her plump tits, and taste my way down to her succulent peach, making her orgasm until I was able to slip inside her yet again.

  Her lips were heading toward mine. They connected, and then her body was on top of me. We kissed, moving all over the bed until I was able to carry out my plan of sucking her tits, tasting down to her pussy, and making her climax repeatedly.

  Chapter Nine

  Bryn Christmas

  My cell phone rang, and I opened one eye. The curtains were open, and the atmosphere was dank. It was snowing outside, and I had to get up, get dressed, and go out in the unfavorable weather conditions. Not only that, but I felt as if a freight truck had collided with my head on the one hand, while my body felt satiated on the other hand.

  The phone kept ringing, and I slowly opened my eyes some more. Jamison was holding me firmly against him, which made my skin warm. I groaned and tried to scoot out of his embrace, but he pulled me closer, grinding his fresh erection against my ass.

  “Where are you going?” he whispered.

  “I had a call.”

  He chuckled. “It’s already started, huh?”

  I laughed, nestling deeper into his hard body. “And I have to get to work. I’m certain I’m late.”

  He thrust his dick against my ass again. “Call off sick today,” he said as he guided me on to my back. When he reached down to grab his package, I knew I should halt what was about to happen, but I didn’t want to. My pussy wept to be entered by him again.

  Jamison rolled over on top of me, inserting himself between my thighs.

  “But that was probably Eden who just called. She’s wondering where…”

  I gasped as his cock pushed through my heat.

  Pumping his cock in and out of my drenched pussy, Jamison sipped air deep into his throat. “You feel so damn good.”

  And so did he. His swollen cock stretched me, and his shaft rubbing against my vaginal walls felt so exquisite. I loved the way he reached around me to round a finger on my clit, bringing me to orgasm quicker.

  I closed my eyes, letting my hips rise toward his stimulation, moaning, breathing, whimpering… “Ha!”

  “Oh…” Jamison shuddered against me, letting loose inside me.

  Twice, Jamison had come inside me. I’d already done the calendar counting. According to the start of my last period and my normal cycle, I wasn’t in jeopardy of getting pregnant. But having a baby was the least of my concerns.

  “We should’ve used a condom. I mean, you have an entire box, and we’ve only used one.” I waited for his response.

  “I haven’t been with anyone since you,” he whispered and then carefully took himself out of me. Jamison rolled onto his back, never taking his eyes off me.

  “No way. For real?”

  “Yeah,” he said with a sigh. “For real.”

  I was speechless. It was hard to believe a man as strapping and rich, who could merely glance at a woman and make her panties wet, hadn’t had sex in over a year.

  “Should I have kept that to myself?” Jamison said.

  Throat tight and lips pursed, I shook my head. “Me neither,” I whispered.

  “You neither?”

  “I haven’t been with anyone since me and you either.”

  A slow smile formed on Jamison’s mouth. His large fingers wrapped around my wrist. He was on the verge of guiding me under him again, but my cell phone rang.

  “Damn it. I have to get to work, Jamison.” Then I saw Dale’s face in my mind, and dread made me feel nauseated.

  “Whoa. What’s that look on your face about?”

  “Dale, my ex. Remember I told you he was my client’s boyfriend?”

  “Yes, I remember.”

  “I think he’s cooking something up. He’s such a schemer. We both used to have that in common.”

  “My offer still stands,” Jamison said.

  “You were serious about that?”

  “Of course. Let me be your assistant today.”

  I let out a laugh. “But you can’t be my assistant. You’re Jamison Cox, political strategist extraordinaire.”

  He finished the act of guiding me under him. Our noses nearly touched as we gazed deeply into each other’s eyes. “Let me be with you today. I want to be wherever you are.”

  His lips and tongue engaged softly with mine. My heartbeat raced as our kissing intensified. We could have made out all morning and into the night. I could have kissed Jamison forever. But time had put constraints on how long we could indulge in each other’s mouths, along with heavy petting and him skillfully finger fucking me.

  “Okay,” I said when our lips separated so we could catch our breaths. “You can be my assistant. But we have to get out of bed now.”

  The first thing we did was scarf down breakfast. Jamison and I showered separately. I was late, and there was not a minute available to be used for more hanky-panky. While showering, I placed a quick call to my mother, Beth, putting her on speakerphone. Since she was a victim of Randolph’s, my mom received enough restitution payment to never have to work again. Recently, she’d moved from Santa Monica to an olive grove in Paso Robles, California. She never realized how much she enjoyed growing and picking the olives and then processing fresh virgin olive oil. She’d made changes by leaps and bounds since I first laid eyes on her in that Nashville hotel
.

  But our conversation couldn’t last long, being that I had to get to work and the contractor who was building the quaint general store on her property had arrived. Beth wanted to attract more tourists. She loved having conversations with strangers, telling them the parts of her life story she was comfortable with sharing. Plus, she made some of the best olive oil I’d ever tasted.

  As I put on a pair of comfortable jeans and a fitted long-sleeved T-shirt and no bra—for Jamison’s pleasure and because I wanted to be sexy for him, to my embarrassment—I called Kat.

  “Ooh, who’s the guy answering your phone?” she asked while on her way into her next seminar.

  “Jamison.”

  “No way. The Jamison Cox?” she exclaimed. “The guy who shattered your heart?”

  “The one and only.”

  Someone on her end excitedly greeted her. Kat returned the greeting with equal enthusiasm. “Bryn, let’s talk later, okay?” she said.

  “Okay. Love you.”

  “Love you too. Oh, and be careful, okay?”

  I frowned. “Okay.”

  Our call ended. Her warning reminded me of how much I’d let my guard down when it came to Jamison Cox. What’s done is done. He and I had fun together. But it was more than just fun, and I felt awful trivializing what we were experiencing together that way.

  I hadn’t much time to think about the next step for Jamison and me as I rushed to the mirror. It was just like Kat to bring sobriety into white-hot-passionate situations. I was two calls down. As I put serum on my face to give my skin that naturally dewy look and then pink-stain lipstick, I returned my twin brother Asher’s call. I was not surprised to get his voicemail. He was always in surgery. I followed that up with a call to Pen to see if she knew what he wanted and reached her voicemail too. She was more than likely in surgery as well.

  My final call before heading out was to Holly. I wanted to make sure she knew I still planned to fly into New York on Saturday to babysit Jane and my brand-new nephew, Oliver, that weekend while she and Jasper took a minibreak and went to Toronto. Holly, who was going into a meeting, confirmed that we were still on. I smiled from ear to ear as I put on my lace-up ankle boots. I couldn’t wait to kiss Jane and Ollie.