He was speaking of people, of women, as things. Not that a lot of men didn’t, but Jimmy never had. Ruthie wouldn’t have allowed it.
“You’d like his suite.” His lips curved. “I’m sure you’ll see it. If Father wants a little seer sex. I don’t mind. Maybe we’ll have you together.”
Do not gag. Do not gag.
“You’re suddenly so pale, Elizabeth.” Jimmy laughed. “You’re a slave now. You’ll do anything I want.”
“And if I don’t?”
“You die, and the whole world dies with you.”
Choices, choices.
Sleep with Jimmy, try to make him remember who he was, that he’d loved me once, and maybe, just maybe, discover a way out of this mess.
Or…
Attempt to kick his ass, die horribly, and fail at the big mission. Let’s see…
I picked door number one.
Chapter 34
I couldn’t make this too easy for him. Jimmy would know something was up. So when he reached for me again, I ran.
He let me. Where in hell was I going to go? The only exit was by elevator, and I didn’t have a key.
Every door in the place closed but had no lock. What good would it do me to barricade myself in? He could knock anything down with one well-placed kick.
To make things look good, I picked up a chair and tossed it at the wall of windows. Since Jimmy had taken a seat on the couch and watched me with some amusement, I knew it wouldn’t work.
Sure enough, the chair bounced back at me so fast I had to scramble out of the way.
“Done yet?” he asked.
I didn’t have to fake my rapid breathing. Even though I knew what would come was inevitable, that I’d chosen it or perhaps it had been chosen for me long ago, I was still nervous. He wasn’t the man I’d loved. He wasn’t really a man at all.
I raced into the bedroom, thinking I’d toss something heavy at the window, just for show, but there wasn’t a window. The draperies covered a wall. Behind me, the door clicked shut.
I whirled just in time to see Jimmy punch in a code on a keypad, which I’d taken to be a security control. I guess it was, since bolts thunked home from somewhere inside the heavy portal.
He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his loose trousers, pulled them outward until they cleared his erection, then dropped them to the floor.
“Your turn,” he said.
I scrambled for the bathroom, but he caught me before I took two steps and tossed me with an absent flick of his wrist toward the bed.
I landed in the center, bouncing once. Before 1 could lift my head from the mattress, he’d torn the button and zipper of my pants apart.
I struggled, which only made him laugh. Struggling seemed to be what he was after.
Considering what he’d been through as a child, Jimmy had never been one for bondage games. In the bedroom he’d always been gentle, almost reverent. Probably one of the reasons the notches on his belt were legion. Women ate that stuff up. I had.
He held me down easily with one arm while he yanked off my boots, then my jeans, and tossed them to the floor. I’d barely lifted my shoulders from the bed when he trapped me beneath him.
His erection throbbed against my belly as he dragged his palm up my thigh, over my hip, the curve of my waist, then cupped one breast and stroked the nipple, which tightened on contact.
His head lowered; his hair sifted across my chest. The scent of cinnamon and soap wafted over me and memories flickered.
I drew in a sharp, loud breath as he took me into his mouth and suckled, tongue pushing the bud against his teeth again and again and again. The sensation was so familiar, so glorious, my fingers were reaching to twine in his hair before I remembered and forced my arm to drop back to the bed.
I kept my gaze focused on the ceiling as he nuzzled my breasts while suckling, teasing. I shuddered as goose-flesh rose across my skin.
I waited for him to sink his fangs into me, then realized he had none, or at least none that I could see. What did that mean?
He lifted his head, ran a hand over my arm, chafing until the pebbled bumps went away. “You were always so sensitive right here.”
He ran the tip of his tongue from the slope of one breast to the other, rolling a lazy lick around each nipple as he passed. My molars ground together as I tried to keep myself from arching into him, from opening my legs and wrapping my ankles around his back as I urged him to plunge deeper, take me harder. Despite my body’s response, I wasn’t ready.
“No more fighting?” he asked.
“I’m not going to give you the satisfaction.”
His lips curved. “Struggling won’t give me satisfaction.”
I lifted a brow. He laughed, flexing his hips until his erection seemed to make a permanent dent in my skin. “Well, maybe a little.”