Wild Sexy Love Read online

  The car stopped outside his apartment building, and he gently eased me off his body. I smoothed my hair and said good night to Leonard as Jason went around the car and opened the door for me.

  “Such a gentleman,” I teased.

  “Just trying to make sure I get laid tonight.”

  “You can get laid every night and day.”

  He drew me into his arms, and right there in front of the entrance, he claimed my lips in a kiss I felt all the way to my toes.

  I closed my eyes and sank into him, relishing the sensation of his lips on mine, the taste of his tongue, the almost aggressive way his hands molded my body to his. I pressed my hips into his thighs, the hard evidence of his erection making me ache deep in my belly.

  He released my lips but kept holding me close to his body. “Careful,” he whispered in my ear. “Don’t tempt me to fuck you right here on the street.”

  I laughed weakly, but the image was strangely arousing. “Would you?”

  “I’d fuck you anywhere you wanted.” He smiled. “What’s a few nights in jail compared with making you come?”

  I giggled. “Thankfully, you can make me come when we’re inside.”

  He let out an exaggerated sigh of regret and released me. “If that’s what you want.”

  I snorted, and we walked into the building, his arm around me. As we neared the elevator, he turned to me with a serious expression.

  “Andre is convinced ‘Ladies first’ was invented so men could check out women’s butts.”

  “Your assistant? That’s the kind of stuff you two talk about?” I wrinkled my nose in amusement. “It’s not true anyway.”

  Jason pressed the call button. “Likely not.” The doors opened, and he looked at me, the corners of his lips twitching in a naughty smile. “Ladies first.”

  I tried not to laugh. “Very funny.”

  “Go on.” He was still smiling. “I have an ass to check out.”

  I rolled my eyes and walked into the elevator ahead of him. He followed me and pressed the button to shut the doors.

  “I hope you’re satisfied,” I grumbled as he took my hand and pulled me close.

  “Satisfied?” He laughed and let one hand trail down to cup my ass. “Not even close.”

  As soon as we were inside the apartment, he started making good on his promise to peel off my clothes. The dress went first in the living room. My bra followed in the hallway, and last was my panties inside the bedroom.

  He removed his jacket and sat on the bed then held out a hand to me. “Come here, beautiful.”

  I sashayed over to him, watching lust light up his eyes. His hands encircled my waist, and he covered a peaked nipple with his lips. As he flicked his tongue over the sensitive tip, the wet heat of his mouth stoked the flames of desperate need growing inside me.

  “You’re perfect,” he said, his voice soft in wonder. He trailed his tongue to my other nipple and lavished attention on that one too until my need raged like wildfire.

  “I need you naked,” I complained. My fingers were hungry for the feel of his skin. I tore off his shirt and waited while he unfastened his pants and pushed them down over his hips. The evidence of his arousal was a hard, thick ridge in his briefs, and I reached for him, eager to feel him, to watch him lose control under the power of my touch.

  I stroked him, letting my fingers tease his cock through the soft material. He closed his eyes and lay back on the bed, a soft breath hissing through his lips. I pulled his briefs down and was rewarded with his erect cock, hard and thick and beautiful.

  I climbed onto his body, straddling him, almost mesmerized by the sight of the hard muscles of his chest, his defined abs, and his perfect cock. After stroking him slowly for a few moments, I fisted him and pumped up and down, spreading the glistening bead of moisture that appeared on the tip of his arousal.

  “Fuck!” His voice was harsh. His hips tensed. “Fuck, Daphne.”

  “Isn’t that what we’re doing?” I teased.

  “Jesus!” He licked his lips and reached for me. “Come here.”

  I smiled and kept pumping, feeling him growing even harder in my hand.

  He swore and grabbed my wrists, pulling me over him and positioning me over his erection. I was dripping wet, and the thick head of his cock slid into me with ease.

  I moaned and wriggled my hips, moving down over his sweet length.

  He released my hands. “That’s it, baby. Take me deeper.”

  I let him slide fully inside me, and he filled me completely, his flesh stretching mine so sweetly I almost couldn’t bear it. I bobbed my hips, and the friction made me gasp in pleasure.

  Jason’s chest expanded, and his hands settled around my thighs. “Ride me, baby.”

  I licked my lips and rode him up and down, slowly at first, then faster. I braced my hands on his chest and forgot everything, every thought but the feel of him sliding in and out of me.

  My walls tightened around him, growing slicker with every delicious thrust. I heard his harsh breathing, and I bit my lip, helpless against the mad desire racing through me.

  “Ride me hard, just like that,” Jason said, his encouragement like an X-rated litany in my head. My legs were shaking, my whole body straining toward climax. He gripped my hands. “Fuck me.”

  I moaned helplessly, my eyes caught in his as the stark arousal and pleasure on his face drove me over the edge. I cried out as my body clenched tight around him, falling forward over his chest as my mind exploded into a million tiny pinpoints of light and pleasure.

  Jason rolled over, putting me on my back, and his body covered mine. He braced one hand on the bed and fucked me as I climaxed, thrusting hard even as my body shook in his arms. My pleasure peaked and peaked again then he let out a soft groan, shuddering as he reached his release.

  We lay in each other’s arms as the sounds of our lovemaking gave way to silence, and we slowly tried to catch our breath. He rolled to his side and pulled me close.

  “You okay?”

  I smiled lazily. “Perfect.”

  He kissed my neck, and even though I was still reeling from my climax, I shuddered in pleasure.

  He chuckled and nipped me gently with his teeth.

  “Jason…” I started, considering telling him everything—my concerns, my desire to speak to his mother—and I almost did, but then I caught myself. “Amy is going to LA for a shoot next weekend,” I lied, cursing myself inside. “I want to go with her. We’re making a girls trip of it, you know, before all the engagement and wedding events start and nothing else matters anymore.”

  “The whole weekend?”

  I turned around to face him. “Two days.”

  He frowned. “I’ve been taking up so much of your time she probably feels she has to steal you away to spend any time with you.”

  “She’s not stealing me,” I said. “And I think this is a good idea. In a few weeks, she’ll leave for England to meet Colin’s parents. I want to spend a girls weekend with her before she takes one look at the English countryside and decides she likes it better over there.”

  “That’s not possible.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because she’s my baby sister.” His eyes widened in an expression that veered amusingly close to panic.

  “Well, she’s Colin’s fiancée,” I reminded him, laughing.

  “And Colin likes it here.”

  I shrugged. “Colin likes it anywhere Amy is.”

  “Jesus!” Jason laughed. “Stop scaring me. I refuse to worry about the possibility that my little sister is going to up and move to another continent.” He paused and kissed me. “I’ll arrange a plane to take you both to LA.”

  “Okay.” I smiled. “That’ll be great.”

  He drew me close. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you. I don’t know what I’d ever do without you.”

  My heart swelled. “You know you’re everything I could have ever hoped for,” I whispered softly. “You’ll never have to be
without me.”

  He was quiet. His hand trailed along my arm then slipped to my breast and tweaked my nipple.

  “Jason,” I moaned, half aroused already as I rolled across the bed.

  He came after me, laughing. “What? I didn’t say I was done with you yet.”

  Chapter Four

  “Wee!” Amy exclaimed as she stepped out of the plane. “I feel like an LA girl already—unforgettable, undeniable, popsicle-melting kind of bombshell heat-bringer.”

  “That’s a mouthful for just one person,” I replied, amused. “And you’ve only spent about a second in the sun.”

  She grinned and held out her arms. “One second is more than enough.”

  “Come on,” I said, laughing at her exuberance. We made our way over to where a sun-bronzed surfer-dude type with long sandy blond hair was waiting by a black SUV close to the plane.

  “Hi, I’m Roscoe.” He held out his hand to me and then to Amy. “I’m going to be your driver.”

  “Hi, Roscoe.” I smiled. “Did Leonard tell you our plans?”

  “He did.”

  I smiled again and entered the cool luxury of the car’s interior while Roscoe arranged for our things to be placed in the trunk. When he had finished, he climbed into the driver’s seat then turned back to look at us.

  “Would you like to go to the hotel first or…?”

  Or to see Jason’s mother? I looked at Amy. I was curious to know what Sarah Wild would tell us. She’d asked me to walk away from Jason, so I knew there was a huge chance that whatever she had to say, I wouldn’t like it.

  If that was the case, I didn’t want to ruin our trip from the get-go.

  “Why don’t you take us to the hotel?” I said. “We’ll go to…to the other place tomorrow.”

  Our hotel was a five-star palace in Beverly Hills, Jason’s treat. As soon as we arrived, we threw on our bikinis and headed for the pool, hoping to spy a few celebrities.

  Later, we went shopping and had dinner in a hilltop restaurant with a beautiful view, where we pretended to be very blasé about the fact that an A-list heartthrob was having dinner at the table right next to us.

  The next day was spa day. Since Amy didn’t actually have a shoot, there was really nothing to do other than enjoy the pampering, the shopping, and the food.

  The feeling of enjoyment lasted till late afternoon when Roscoe was waiting to take us to Jason’s mother’s home. We went down to the car, and as he drove through the streets, I stared out the window, wondering if it was too late to turn back and let this sleeping dog lie.

  “Are you nervous?” Amy asked, her eyes wide with concern.

  I nodded.

  “Me too.” She sighed. “You know, I still don’t believe you need to do this. Who knows what will happen with time? Jason might forgive her on his own without you pushing it.”

  “I know, but…” I trailed off. She was right—I was pushing it. I had asked myself why, had wondered if I was projecting my own need for a mother onto Jason.

  Whatever it was, it was too late to turn back now.

  It was quite a distance. Roscoe drove quietly through the unfamiliar freeways and overpasses until we arrived in a quiet middle-class neighborhood with well-maintained houses and neat yards. He parked in front of a small home at the end of the street, and then we followed him to the front door and waited as he knocked.

  “What if she isn’t home?” Amy whispered.

  A part of me hoped she wouldn’t be. Why did I have this irrational urge to run after coming so far? It was almost as if a sixth sense was warning me now at this last moment that I shouldn’t have come at all.

  “I don’t know,” I told Amy.

  There was some movement inside the house, and after a few moments, the door opened.

  Jason’s mother looked almost the same as I remembered, a little more tired, but not much. Her dark hair showed a bit more gray, and it looked as if it hadn’t been brushed in a day at least. She stared at Roscoe, then her eyes slid to me, then to Amy. There was no hint of recognition in their depths.

  “Can I help you?” Her voice was hoarse, and she cleared her throat then coughed. “Can I help you?” she repeated.

  Roscoe stepped back, leaving me facing her directly. “Mrs. Wild,” I started, and she flinched.

  “Sarah,” she corrected.

  “I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “Sarah…” I frowned, confused by her apparent lack of any memory of me. “I’m Daphne, Jason’s girlfriend. We met about two weeks ago.”

  Her eyes focused at the sound of Jason’s name and she peered at me for a very long, very uncomfortable moment. “Oh, I remember now,” she said, her voice turning a bit frosty. “Why don’t you come inside.”

  “I’ll wait out here,” Roscoe said.

  I smiled at him. “I’m sure we’ll be fine. You can wait in the car.”

  Inside, the living room was separated from the kitchen by a tall counter. Paintings hung over every surface, and more were stacked on the floor. There was one leather couch, a matching armchair, and an end table. There was no TV, but several black speakers indicated the presence of a sound system.

  She gestured to the couch, and we went to sit. I peered at the paintings on the walls. They were all the same style, and the signature was familiar, though I couldn’t remember where I’d seen it before.

  “These are your works?” I asked politely.

  “Yes.” She waved a hand dismissively. “I spent years painting and painting but not selling much. These days, I just do it out of habit.”

  She gave me a wry smile, and I suddenly remembered where I had seen her signature before. It was the same signature in the painting I’d seen in Jason’s office of a little boy playing in a pond.

  It had to mean something. It had to mean that maybe, just maybe I was doing the right thing.

  “You’re the sister.” Sarah was speaking to Amy.

  Amy nodded politely. “Yes, I’m Jason’s sister.”

  “You don’t look much like Grant,” Sarah said. “More like your mother, then? My replacement.”

  I felt Amy bristle, but she kept silent. Sarah waited for a reaction and, not getting one, she turned to me. “Why are you here? I didn’t think I would ever see you again. Did Jason send you?”

  “He didn’t.”

  Her lips twisted. “Then why are you here?”

  “I need to understand what you meant by the things you said to me. I don’t want to believe you’re crazy, but I need to know if Jason is in danger from you.”

  She stared at me for a moment then burst into laughter. I gave Amy a quick glance.

  “Crazy,” she mouthed silently.

  Sarah stopped laughing and gave me a pitying smile. “You’re so in love with him,” she cooed. “I told you he was going to kill your children and break your heart, but you’re more concerned about him.”

  “I don’t have any children,” I retorted.

  “Yet.” She gave me a serious look. “Don’t have any, not with him, anyway.”

  “Well, it’s not something we’ve discussed, but you have to be a little more forthcoming than these abstract hints of future horror.”

  “Abstract hints of future horror,” she repeated. “That’s a good one. Are you a writer?”

  I shook my head, losing patience. “Look, maybe if you tell me something that makes sense, I can get Jason to change his mind about talking to you.”

  “So, you haven’t told him what I said to you?”

  “Of course not.” I snorted. “It didn’t make any sense.”

  “It does make sense,” she said slowly. She went to sit on the armchair, still facing me. “My dad was a mean drunk—violent, too. He would drink until he didn’t remember who I was, or even who he was, and sometimes, he just didn’t remember. He died young. I didn’t miss him.”

  “I had a sister too. We weren’t close, and she left me behind as soon as she saved enough to buy a bus ticket. After my father died, I went to art school, met a
handsome, sexy man, had a son, and then learned that my sister had killed herself. She was a couple of years older than me, had a good career cutting trailers for movies here in LA. I found out she’d been sick, just like my father had been.”

  “You said he was a drunk,” I reminded her.

  “But that’s not what killed him—or maybe it was, I don’t know—but he was so drunk most of the time that when he wasn’t, it was easy to ignore the signs, like when he got lost in a town so small you could walk all the streets in an hour or two, or when he couldn’t remember my name. He left enough of his poisoned genes to make my sister start showing symptoms at the peak of her life, and now, he’s gotten me, too. One day, in a decade or so if he’s lucky, it will be Jason.”

  “What…?” I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to hear or believe what she was saying. “Symptoms of what?” I asked, the words bitter on my tongue.

  “You’re saying he has a genetic disease?’ Amy choked.

  “Early-onset Alzheimer’s.” Sarah shrugged. “Sometimes very early, like in my sister’s case, sometimes a little later, like mine.”

  She got up and walked to a window that looked out onto the street. I couldn’t think of anything to say. I stared at her, wishing I could un-hear what she’d just told me.

  “When I found out, Jason was four years old. I knew he was going to watch me turn into a raving lunatic mess like my father and I’d have to tell him the same fate awaited him, so I left.”

  I got up, trembling. “I don’t believe you,” I said. “You’re just saying this to inveigle your way back into his life.” I cast a despairing glance toward Amy, and she looked as confused as I felt. “Why didn’t you tell him all this when he came to see you? Why did you send him away instead?”

  “Would you have told him?” She turned back to hold my gaze. “Would you have told him there was a chance he would never get to enjoy the future he had planned for himself?”

  “So you broke his heart instead,” Amy said.

  “I did what I thought was right at the time.”

  “And now?” I said, my voice shaking. “What makes you think this is the right time to tell him?”

  She didn’t reply.