Slaughter Daughter by Eve Langlais

25

The professorand Cashien wouldn’t let me join them at the police station. Which meant I got to pace as Kalinda cooked and Mary hacked.

As for Peter and Jackson…who knew? Of my roommates, I knew them the least.

I went to bed before anyone came home, dropping into a restless sleep where I dreamed that someone chased me. And then I was doing the chasing. Only to be caught!

I thrashed and woke to find myself in someone’s arms, a deep voice growling, “Stop fighting me.”

“Jag?” I said. Then added more urgently, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He snuggled in beside me, and I smelled fresh shampoo as if he’d recently showered.

Which begged the question. “Why are you in my bed?”

“Keeping an eye on you,” he grumbled as he snaked an arm around me and cradled me against his body.

“I’m in bed. Can’t exactly get into trouble.” Tell that to my racing heart. It wanted to get into all kinds of trouble.

“Tired. Long night,” he mumbled against me.

I might have argued more but for the gentle snore and the fact that I rather enjoyed the way he held me. Cuddling wasn’t something I indulged in often. Most of my relationships proved short-lived.

I spent my first night in a guy’s arms and woke to him nuzzling my hair—a definite boner pressing against my ass.

Or was it a morning pee? Because I sure as heck had to go.

“Hey,” he mumbled.

“Hey.” And then because I lacked a romantic bone in my body, I said, “I’ve got to go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.” A horrifying thought hit as I shut the door behind me.

Did he think I was doing a number two? What if I farted while I peed and he heard? Or came in after and smelled it?

When he’d crawled into bed with me last night, I’d been half-asleep, shocked and intrigued by having Jag in my bed. Now, he was actually there. Possibly with a hard-on.

For me.

And here I was, wasting time in the bathroom. Not only men thought with their crotches.

I peed, and then as I washed my hands, I gave my girl parts a quick scrub. Brushed my teeth. Washed my face. Untangled my hair. Stared in the mirror at my wide eyes staring back.

What was happening here? I had Jag in my bed. But what about Braedon? I’d kissed him the day before. But, technically, I’d kissed Jag first.

I glanced at the closed door. I really wanted to kiss Jag again, and it wasn’t as if Braedon had asked me to be his girlfriend or anything. Nor had Jag. Yet he’d crawled into my bed last night. When he was tired and looking for a safe spot to crash, he chose me of all people.

I emerged after taking a deep breath of courage.

He was waiting for me, a slow smile curving his lips. “Took you long enough.”

My cheeks flamed. Dammit, now he really thought I’d pooped. So romantic.

He held up the comforter, showing off that he wore track pants and nothing else. No one could resist a bare-chested Jag this early in the morning.

Hell, yeah, I crawled in beside him, getting a cheap thrill as his arm came around me, tugging me close, cocooning me against his body. Despite being warm, I shivered.

“Cold?” he asked, the breath of the word a sigh across my skin.

On the contrary, heat spread through me. “Not anymore.”

The hand on my belly began to move, rubbing across fabric. Then the fingers tugged at the hem of my shirt and paused as if asking for permission.

I squirmed against him, pushing my ass against his erection, clear despite his pants. It kind of stole my breath, which hitched as Jag’s fingers crept under the fabric, teasing my flesh.

I shivered again and sighed. He touched me, his hands skimming up under fabric to cup my breasts and play with the nipples.

The sensation had me gyrating, my hips rolling and moving as I sought to ease the building ache between my thighs. Feeling bold, I grabbed his hand and slid it down to cup my mound.

In that moment, despite not truly understanding how I felt about him, I wanted the release he offered—the pleasure.

I’d not had sex often. Not because I didn’t crave it but for other more complicated reasons. I always had to hide myself because most people couldn’t see past my family origins. But Jag knew, and Jag didn’t appear to care.

And I was too aroused to wonder about his motives. I just wanted to feel.

I turned so I could face him.

His fingers lightly traced the edge of my face, and he stared at me with an expression I’d call fond, if a bit confused—but definitely smoldering with arousal.

That, I could handle.

I kissed him.

He groaned. He also rolled me onto my back. My arms went around his neck to hold him close as I pressed my lips to his. The heat between us erupted.

So much heat. As we kissed, I touched him, finally able to run my hands over his taut flesh. I dug my nails in when he wedged his thigh between mine and applied pressure. I rode his leg for a few grinds before he groaned. Then his hands stripped me of my pajamas, which consisted of loose shorts, a T-shirt, and prim and proper panties.

No one liked to be naked alone. I tugged at his track pants until he was just as bare as I was.

Jesus, no wonder I could feel him through his pants. His size had me clenching. I may have even had a mini-orgasm.

We came together in a clash of flesh that sizzled. There was something decadent about how we fit together. How good it all felt.

Nothing was said. A good thing because it would have probably reminded me of the insanity of my actions. Was now the time to be screwing around?

As he fingered my clit, rubbing until I panted, I only knew I wanted this. Him. Inside me. Making me come.

I reached for him, growling as he kept himself just out of reach. “Come here.”

“Are you sure?”

I couldn’t believe he asked. I dragged him down for a heated kiss. His head pressed against me. My thighs parted wide to accommodate him. His mouth caught my cry of pleasure as he sank into me, taking his sweet time, making me feel every stretching inch. As he pushed into me, I dug my nails into his shoulders.

He fucking paused again. “You okay?” he whispered into my mouth.

My legs wrapped around him in reply. He groaned, and his forehead pressed against mine as he began a slow, torturous rhythm, digging deep with his cock until I writhed under him, moaning aloud. He quickened his pace, the deeper strokes stealing my voice. I could only hold on and ride the wave that crested. I shuddered. I orgasmed, my body rigid and then undulating in pleasure.

He kept hitting that spot.

Kept smacking into my sweet fucking spot. I bit him as I came even harder the second time. He uttered a grunt and a growl then froze, buried deep inside me, his cock pulsing as he came. He didn’t crush me when he finally relaxed, but he did keep his forehead leaned against mine as our breathing normalized.

I opened my eyes to find him staring at me.

Had he been watching me the entire time? I’d had my eyes closed as I rode the pleasure.

As our gazes locked, I said, “Good morning.”

I could feel his smile as he rumbled, “Yes, it is.” He shifted, and I trembled.

Shyness hit me. I didn’t know what to say now. What if I spoke the wrong words and ruined…whatever this was?

Suddenly, his head jerked to the side as if he’d heard something. His expression took on that of a hunter, intent and focused.

“What’s wrong?” I whispered. Was someone in the hall? Had they heard us? I’d die of embarrassment.

Jag leaned down to brush his mouth against mine and whispered, “If they ask, I was here with you all night.”

Before I could say a word, I heard commotion in the hall a second before someone flung open my bedroom door.

Jag rolled off me, but it was too late to hide. The professor swept in, wearing a scowl, and he wasn’t alone.