Fire and Ice - Anne Stuart [57]
He couldn’t do it. He knelt there, looking at her vulnerable back, hard enough to get off just watching her, and he couldn’t do it. It wasn’t fear of Taka, it wasn’t even fear of her thinking it meant more than a fuck, a simple release of tension.
He just couldn’t do it to her.
He climbed off the bed and went to the closet, pulling out one of the yukata that came with the room. When he turned back she hadn’t moved, and he put the robe over her shoulders, helping her put it on, resisting the impulse to even look at her breasts, because he was hard enough as it was.
She let him tie the belt. “You need to sleep, Ji-chan,” he said, pushing her back gently onto the bed. “Get under the covers.”
She was obedient again, sliding beneath the covers. Despite her height she looked very small in the king-size bed.
Her hair was in her face, and he pushed it out of her eyes, gently. She blinked. And then she closed her eyes, shutting him out.
He picked a hell of a time to grow a conscience, he thought as he moved back into the sitting area of the suite. He couldn’t remember a time when he needed the release of sex so badly, and whether he liked it or not, he wanted Summer’s sister. Had wanted her from the moment he grabbed her in Taka’s house. Hell, wanted her since he saw her in Peter Madsen’s garden two years ago. And he could have her, right now.
He stripped off the rest of his clothes and stretched out on the sofa. It was too short for his body, but it would have to do. If someone wanted to get to Jilly, they’d have to go through him, and for now he could let himself sleep.
She must have made some kind of sound, because he was just coming awake when she screamed. He moved quickly, on top of her before the second scream could erupt from her throat, covering her mouth with his hand. “Hush, Ji-chan. It will be all right. I promise you.”
She was fighting him, struggling, and he caught her flailing arms and imprisoned them between them. “Calm down. If you scream again, it will bring too much attention.”
She shoved him, pushing him off her, and he let her go, watching her out of hooded eyes as she scrambled off the bed, backing against the wall like a cornered animal, panting with fear.
“Make it stop,” she whispered. “Make it go away.”
He shook his head. “Ji-chan, I don’t know how to do that.”
“Yes, you do.” She looked at him through the darkness, and her eyes were glittering with unshed tears. “Make it go away.”
He came off the bed, moving toward her, giving her time to change her mind, to panic, to retreat. But she didn’t move, waiting for him.
He hauled her up, pushing her against the wall, and brought his body up against hers, so she’d know exactly what she was asking. “Are you sure?”
She was frantic, her fingers digging into his shoulders, trying to bring him closer. “Make it stop, make it stop, make it—”
He lifted her up, pressing her against the wall, and tore open the yukata. She was still wearing the garters and the bloomers, and he slid his hands up her thighs, flicking the garters open with his thumbs. The stockings stayed up anyway. He slid his hands up and tugged at the white cotton bloomers, drawing them down her long legs, only to realize she was wearing a tiny black lace thong.
He was going to kill Kyo. He was going to buy him a case of sake. He sank to his knees in front of her and pressed his mouth against the tiny scrap of fabric as he pulled the bloomers over her feet and tossed them aside. As if she wasn’t torment enough, she was a walking sex dream, and his last shred of conscience disappeared.
She made a muffled sound, of need, of protest, as he started to pull the thong down, and he simply broke the thin lace straps so that he could use his mouth on her.
Her hands were on his shoulders, her fingers digging in, and he wasn’t sure whether she was trying to push him away or pull him closer. It didn’t matter. He loved going down on women—it was his second favorite thing in the world to do, and