I watched Jack cross the room as he returned from the bathroom, and my eyes were drawn to the crazy swirling black dragon on his hip and glute. It looked like it covered some kind of scar. I had felt the ridges of his skin beneath it with my calf as we made love. I wanted to ask about it.
Jack crawled back into bed next to me and gathered me to him. He brushed my hair off my forehead and kissed it.
I sighed and snuggled up to his side, curling into a ball. “Hmmm, so this is what it feels like to be a woman, finally. Thank you for divesting me of my virginity.”
A laugh rumbled through his chest beneath my cheek. “I knew you were using me. So are you done with me now?”
“Not even close.” I let my hand roam across his chest.
I wondered if boys’ nipples were as sensitive. On a whim, I pushed up and nipped gently at the flat of his nipple with my teeth.
His even breathing stumbled, and grabbing my hand, he slid it down his stomach under the sheet. Pressing my palm against his stiff erection, he murmured, “That’s good, because it seems I haven’t gotten nearly enough of you yet.”
“Wow,” I whispered at the hot silky feel of him and then swallowed audibly. Like a gulp. Smooth, Keri Ann. “I didn’t know that was possible ... that guys ... I mean that you could ... so soon.”
“Trust me, it’s new for me, too.”
I grinned at him and sat up, sliding the sheet down. He had seen all of me—it was only fair I should be allowed the same privilege.
He placed his hands beneath his head, watching me with a lopsided grin, his eyes roaming over my nakedness in return. I resolutely ignored the urge to cover myself.
On a whim, I leaned forward quickly and kissed the dimpled crease on his cheek. “I love your dimple,” I whispered, smiling at him.
His eyes flickered briefly.
I sat back again letting my eyes roam across his bared body. He was magnificent. I didn’t have a lot to compare him to, but as far as I was concerned, he was perfect ... and so very male. Running my hand toward his side, I made for the tattoo.
Jack grabbed my hand, but didn’t remove it.
I waited a beat, not looking at his eyes, and then continued. Jack’s hand rode mine, not stopping me, but accompanying me as I traced the skin covered by the swirling and black flames and fearsome eyes and teeth of a monster. He was tense beneath me.
“My father,” he whispered so quietly, I almost didn’t hear him. He cleared his throat. “My father ... he beat her. My mother.”
I waited quietly, wanting but also fearing the story.
He went on. “Nobody knew he was my father, we lived away from prying eyes, and he was never there. He was a public figure, in politics and ... titled, and I understood later we were ... a shamed secret.”
He continued haltingly. “The last time ... I remember waking up early in the morning. I’d heard them again in the night and hidden under my blankets and pillows so I didn’t have to hear my mother crying again.
“He wasn’t a drunk. He was a stone cold asshole. It would be weeks and sometimes months between his visits. He always came to see her, not me, for some reason. Although I knew it was always me they fought about. She’d made me promise not to come down if I ever heard him. So I didn’t. I must have fallen asleep that night, normally I didn’t, but they must have stopped arguing and it was late.”
I kept very still as Jack talked. He stared at the ceiling and then closed his eyes before continuing.
“The quiet woke me up that morning. Normally, I could hear my mum in the kitchen or calling me to wake up and come down. I looked at the window and saw it was light enough that I should have been up and having breakfast before school. I went down the stairs in my pajamas calling for her and not getting an answer.”
His hand on mine gripped hard as his voice strained. I got the impression he had never told this story before. My heart pounded in trepidation as he continued.
“I remember skidding around the corner into the kitchen and seeing him first ... standing at the stove, all in black. I assume he must have been in a suit, but all I remember is the darkness and the fear of seeing him and thinking my mum would be mad at me for not staying out of the way. But then I saw her lying on the floor. She was naked ... and not moving. In retrospect, I wonder why I didn’t go to her, but I remember going wild and flying at him, trying to get to his eyes. His evil eyes. I wanted to scratch and rip those awful eyes out of his head and bite those awful hands that inflicted so much pain. The next thing I knew he struck me, and I was flying back across the room. I hit the table next to where my mother was lying. I couldn’t breathe from the pain. I learned later my arm and a rib were broken.”