Wrapped In Pleasure - Brenda Jackson [51]
“Your father once thought that way, Jamal Ari, but now he thinks differently,” she finally said, hoping to make him see reason before it was too late. “And I hope you will open your mind to do the same. Love is a powerful beast. It can bring the strongest of beings to their knees.”
Without saying anything else, she turned and walked out of the room. The door closed stiffly behind her, bathing the room in dead silence.
That night Jamal dreamed.
Delaney was with him, in his bed while he made love to her. Not caring that he wasn’t using protection of any kind, his body repeatedly thrust into hers, glorying in the feel of her beneath him, of him being inside of her. In the darkness he could hear her moans of pleasure that combined with his own. He could actually feel the imprint of her nails on his back and shoulders as she gripped him, her fingers relentlessly pressing deeply into his skin. He felt his body moving closer to the edge and knew what he wanted more than anything. He wanted to impregnate her with his heir, just in case she wasn’t pregnant already. He could envision a son with dark, copper-colored skin and a head of jet-black curls and eyes the color of dark chocolate.
His hand reached up and cupped her cheek, bringing her lips to his; lips he now hungered for all the time; lips he would tease into submission. They were also lips whose touch could arouse him to no end, drive him literally insane; lips belonging to a mouth he had branded.
He then gave his attention to her breasts as they thrust firmly and proudly from her body, taunting him to taste, which he did. He loved the feel of them against his tongue, wished he could love her this way forever and never have to stop. Around her he always felt primal, needy, lusty.
So he continued to make love to her, holding her tightly in his arms and whispering his words of love.
Thousands of miles away Delaney was in bed having that same dream.
Her body felt stretched, filled and hot. Her breasts felt soul-stirringly tender from Jamal’s caress, and she could feel him loving her in a way she had become used to: determined, forceful. And very thorough.
His touch felt so right, and she felt a simmering sense that relief was near. She moaned a low, needy sound when a shiver passed through her body, and she gloried in the feel of being made love to this way. Then she exploded into tiny pieces.
Sometime later she opened her eyes, letting them adjust to the darkness. Rejoining reality she found that she was in bed alone. She curled her body into a ball as the waves of passion subsided, sending tremors through her.
She lay there, too shaken to move. Her dream had seemed so real. It had been as if Jamal had actually been with her, inside of her, making love to her. Taking a deep breath she swung her legs down to the floor and eased out of bed.
Going into the bathroom she washed her face in cool water, still feeling the heat of her dream. She inhaled deeply, glad she had returned to her apartment and not done as her brothers had suggested and gone to her parents’ home.
She needed time alone—time to deal with everything. Her brothers had relented and had given in to her request for privacy. But she knew their placidness wouldn’t last long. For the moment they were humoring her.
Glancing up at the mirror, she studied her red, swollen eyes. After her brothers had left, indicating they would be back to check on her within a few weeks, she had lain across the bed and cried.
She knew she couldn’t continue on this way. Jamal was gone and wasn’t coming back. She had to get on with her life, and the best way to do that was to go to work. She was not supposed