Under My Skin (Stark International Trilogy 3)

Want, yes. But more than that, I need it.

Need it so badly in fact that it scares me, because how would I get through this without Jackson? How will I manage if I lose him? If he’s behind bars.

I squeeze my eyes shut tight, because I can’t think about that. Not now. Not when I’m so damn raw.

And despite my lecture to myself about waiting until I got my shit together, I grab my phone from my purse. Fuck waiting; right now, I need the man I love.

I am about to dial when the phone vibrates in my hand—Jackson.

“I’m on my way,” he says, the moment the call connects, and it is only when my body sags with relief that I realize just how tense I have been.

Ethan, I think as I clutch the phone tight like a lifeline. Thank god for Ethan.

“Don’t hang up,” I beg. “Stay with me.”

“I’m right by your side, baby,” he says. “I’m always by your side.”

thirteen

“That son of a bitch,” Jackson says as he pulls me from my car and holds me tight. There is a wild tension to his body, as if he is being held together by some invisible force field that is now cracking under the strain of his effort, and the power that he is giving off warms me. But it does not calm me, and my nightmares are still reaching for me out of the shadows that surround our cars.

Nightmares of my father. Of Reed. And of my fear that things have shifted between Jackson and me.

I shift, moving out of his arms.

“Jackson.” His name is tight. A plea. A protest. “Are we okay?”

“Oh, baby.” Something like regret washes across his face, and he presses his palm to my cheek. “I’m not sure if I’m the most selfish man on the planet or the luckiest. But yes, of course we’re fine. How could we be anything else?”

I blink, and as I do, warm tears trickle down my cheeks. “I thought—I wasn’t sure. It felt like we were miles apart.”

“No,” he says as he pulls me close to him again. “Not miles. Not even inches. I’m right here.”

I nod, because he is—thank god he is. But I don’t need to be held. Not tonight. Not now.

I know what I do need—Jackson is the one who taught me. I used to think that to fight my nightmares I had to take control. Had to fuck my way out of danger, taking what I wanted from men and keeping my own emotions at bay. Cool. Controlled. Like a shark trolling waters full of men.

But what I actually need is to surrender. And I need it desperately right now. Because the dark has cold fingers and they are starting to grab me.

“Come on,” he says, gripping my arm and firmly steering me toward the Porsche. “I’m taking you home.”

“No.” I swallow. I can’t say more. Can’t put into words what I need. Because part of what I need is for him to understand.

For a moment, he just looks at me, his expression hard, wary.

Then he pulls me to him, and bends to whisper in my ear. “You don’t get to say no, sweetheart. You say ‘yes, sir,’ or you say nothing at all.”

Immediately the tension leaves my body. He gets it. Thank god, he gets it. And more, I think, he needs it, too.

“Yes, sir,” I say, as my body tingles and I feel an intense pressure in my core. The need to be taken. Penetrated.

He steps toward me, closing the distance between us. It’s dark in this corner of the lot, and his face is hardened by shadows. But his eyes blaze. “You want to be fucked?”

I swear I almost whimper. “Yes.”

“You want it rough?”

“Yes.”

He strokes my cheek, sliding his hand back until he has taken a handful of hair. “Yes what?”

“Yes, sir.” I’m breathing hard, both excited and apprehensive. This is different than what we’ve done before. He’s different. And though I trust him—though I will always trust him—I do not know what to expect.

And oh, dear god, that excites me.

“You want me to spread you wide and fuck you hard?”

“Yes, please, sir.”

“Then you need to be a good girl.”

As he speaks, he’s pushing me to my knees, his fist in my hair guiding me. I descend willingly. Enthusiastically. I can think of nothing but this moment; everything before is gone. Ethan. My dad. My fears.

This is just me and Jackson and pleasure and submission. Letting him take me there. And letting him take control. Jackson, who needs this as much as I do.

“Go ahead,” he says, and I reach out and press my hand flat over his erection, now struggling behind the pressed cotton of his slacks.

I am eager, but I force myself to slowly draw down his zipper. I slip my hand in and free his cock, so hard that I imagine he must be close to exploding.