Page 51 of Jazz

“Get washed, and get out, Jazz.”

I frowned at the instruction. The rebel in me wanted to hit out, tell him to fuck off ordering me around, but I was too heated. Too much blood pumped around my body, and so I nodded.

When I shut the shower off and pushed the door open, he thrust a towel at me. I pulled it across my wet skin, already cooling too quickly from the surrounding cold, my eyes gazing over the man who’d rescued me. And the man who’d chained me up in the first place.

Heat rushed over me again. A towel wrapped round his waist now, his skin dry, and his hair was a damp mess from where he’d dried it. And I stood looking at him wordlessly.

Chase stepped towards me, the smile receding, his lips growing taut. And then he dipped, scooping me up off the floor and into his arms as if I weighed nothing.

I wanted to complain. But the words had disappeared; only erratic breathing was left. His chest was warm against the bare skin of my arms, and I could feel the beat of his heart, matching pace with mine, a thick thudding, growing in intensity.

He nudged the door with his foot, then stepped out into the hallway and darted through the door to our room. The door creaked closed behind us; the catch slipping into place. And then he turned, dropping me gently at the foot of the bed. I landed on my back, a whoosh of air slipping out, my angry tattooed skin prickling.

Chase stood over the top of me watching as I wriggled onto my elbows, sitting up. His waist was at my face, a towel covering him, hiding the rest of him from my view. I reached out, linking my fingers into the fabric, pulling him closer.

“You dry?” Chase asked, his voice thick with that low gravelly tone that turned my insides into turmoil.

I nodded.

“Good. Lose the towel.”

The command was there again. I shouldn’t like him telling me what to do. I normally did the complete opposite. Rebel. Push away. But I pulled the fabric free, letting it fall on either side of me. His eyes followed the movement for a second before returning to me, scanning over my face and down my body, expressionless, his brows furrowed.

His fingers moved now over his own waistband, pulling at his towel and letting it drop away. It hit the floor with a muffled thump, and when I looked up again, he was already dropping to his knees in front of me.

Chapter Twenty Seven

Jazz’s face was mottled with bruises. Some were older; some new. Her skin was interrupted with cuts. My brothers had really done a number on her. And yet, here I was. Her naked body in front of me, and mine between her legs.

She was exhausted, traumatised, riddled with some sort of Stockholm Syndrome. I could take advantage of all of it right now. Sink into her. Take what I wanted. But if I hadn’t rescued her from something I’d created, would I be what she was asking for? What she wanted was release. Distraction. I could give herthat without taking anymore from her, no matter how much I wanted to.

Her eyes met mine. Beautifully dark and rich, and just that was enough to get lost in. Big, wide, expressive and darker now than when I’d first seen them, her pupils dilated, the black bleeding into that rich dark brown.

I pulled her face to mine, finding her lips, moving against hers. She kissed me back, her tongue slipping out, meeting mine. She tasted of warm mint. Her mouth hot, her breath against my lips. My hand cupped the back of her head, no escaping me and what I was going to do to her. When I broke away, she gasped, trying to push back into me, but my fingers tightened in her hair, pulling her head backwards, listening to that low gasp and trying to ignore the hot messages jumping to my brain and my cock.

The skin on her throat was almost tasteless. Damp, fresh, but with the tiniest tingle against my tongue of natural salt. Her heart beat hard. I could feel it through my chest as it touched hers, her tits pushed against my skin, my tongue lapping at her neck. Her pulse leapt there too, pumping against my lips. I closed my eyes. She tasted divine. Her skin so soft. Smooth. Markable. But she was marked enough, and I let the thought go, nibbling down her neck instead.

Her breathing hitched as I reached the top of her chest, the swell of her tits teasing at my chin. I hadn’t taken a proper look when she was naked. I’d tried to offer her some respect, but now, between her legs, the smell of her body heating under my touch, I needed to feel her.

I let my hands roam over her skin. Gently at first, feeling over the swell of those tits. They bulged out of my hands. Too much of a handful, full. Not heavy, but enough weight that they sat there, nipples straining out towards me. My fingertips grazedover the ends, and she hissed into the air above me, arching her back, pushing herself into me. Fuck. She’d ruin me. And everything I was trying not to do.

My mouth roamed, sinking lower, moving to those fucking amazing tits, feeling for the tight nub of her nipples. I was trying to be gentle. Careful, but the moment my lips moved over her that control melted. And I sucked down hard, my hands wrapping around her back, pulling her close. I brushed my tongue over the end, feeling her wriggle in my arms, the gasps growing louder with each flick. And my mind wandered, wondering what it would be like to have her submit to me completely. My teeth clamped down on the nipple in my mouth, just enough pressure to feel her, to make her want to get away but want to stay at the same time. And while her brain was confused, and she couldn’t decide whether she wanted more or to run, I let my hand sink down her stomach.

Her skin was smoother, the flesh on her stomach tight. The tiniest brush of hair touched my fingertips as I sank lower. I could almost feel the heat from her pussy as I got closer. Her chest rose and fell against my face, the threat of suffocation from those fucking tits. Like there wasn’t a better way to fucking die.

I traced lower, her thighs tensing, the first hint of the muscle in those legs I hadn’t looked at yet, only felt as they’d kicked out at me. And now here I was between them, my fingers sliding over her slit, warm and sticky. I dipped a finger, just the tip, tentatively, waiting for that little hitch of breath that would tell me to keep going. And there it was, with a subtle gasp, her chest pushing into my face again.

Her pussy was already leaking juices. I could feel the wet clinging to the very apex of her legs, and I felt around her entrance, spreading it around her, before slowly pushing inside.

“Fuck,” she whispered into the air above me, and I slid another finger in, pushing upwards until I was in her up to my knuckles.

Inside her flesh was tight, grabbing and pulling at my fingers as I moved. I pushed my thumb into her clit, tipping my fingers upwards, my thumb circling clockwise, then stopping, then circling again, not letting her get used to the rhythm. I didn’t want her coming just yet. I wanted her begging, dripping over my fingers, waking up Baz’s neighbours.

Jazz’s hips started to move, and I switched to her other nipple, grabbing it with my teeth, forcing another finger inside that sweet cunt.

“You feel full, Jazz?” I asked, my mouth moving against the soft flesh of her tit.

“I can take more, Chase. You know you can’t fucking break me.”