Nailing Mr. Nasty (Campy Romances Series Book 2), page 12
“It’s that one!” She angled forward, almost pressing her nose against the windshield. “Turn into the parking lot. There! I see his truck.”
Ron swerved around some cars and then stomped the brake a few feet behind Jack’s parked vehicle. Jack was already out of the cab and striding forward, leaving Taylor barking furiously in the back seat. Brad had emerged from his car and his eyes rounded with fear when he saw the pure venom of Jack’s expression. He motioned frantically for the thug in the car to save him from hellbent Jack Nast.
“Oh, dear.” Sam yanked on the door handle, but nothing happened. “Ron, unlock the door!” She slammed her fist against the dashboard when Ron shook his head. “Ron!”
“You stay out of this or you’ll get hurt.”
She focused on Jack again. He was like a bulldozer, moving toward Brad with purpose. In a flash, he struck Brad in the face with his massive fist and blood gushed from Brad’s nose and mouth. Brad squealed like a pig and sat down on the pavement.
“Oh, my!” Sam whispered as the action unfolded before her like a scene from a movie. She’d never seen anyone move that quickly or do so much damage with one punch. Brad had both his hands up to his face and they were already stained red and dripping. She could hear him sobbing as he stared up at Jack with eyes bulging with fear.
The other guy rolled out of the passenger seat, mallet in one hand and a knife in the other, and whirled in Jack’s direction. He snarled, his teeth showing white against his tanned skin, and waved the knife, ready to slice Jack.
“No!” Sam whispered, resisting the urge to close her eyes so that she wouldn’t see Jack get creamed. Grim-faced, Jack reached into his back jeans pocket and withdrew something, then surged forward in another blinding spurt of pent-up energy. Turning sideways, he kicked the man right above his left knee and then slammed his fist into the guy’s jaw twice before Sam could even blink. Something on Jack’s hand flashed in the light from the lowering sun and she realized that he’d slipped on a pair of brass knuckles. The man staggered back, dropping the knife and looking stunned. A stream of crimson leaked from the corner of his mouth. He swung the mallet and Jack ducked and hit the man again, this time in his ribs.
With a bellow, the big guy managed to land a right hook on the side of Jack’s face, which didn’t seem to even register on Jack. In fact, he stepped into it, grabbed the guy by the shoulder and whammed him three times in the face with the knuckles. The guy dropped to his knees like a felled tree and Jack gave him a mighty shove, pushing him sideways onto the asphalt. He picked up the knife, folded it, and tucked into this jeans pocket.
Brad, who was still wailing and wiping at the blood leaking from his nose and mouth, tried to stand but failed as Jack approached and stood over him. Sam could tell that Jack was talking, but she couldn’t hear him. Brad, however, trembled and nodded emphatically, agreeing with whatever Jack was dishing out.
“I’ve never seen anything like that – or him,” she whispered to herself, getting a chuckle from Ron. “Does he always carry brass knuckles?”
“He keeps them in the glove box along with a length of heavy chain and a sharpened screwdriver.”
She stared at him, hoping he was exaggerating. “Good grief,” she murmured, looking at Jack again.
“He’s a River Rat,” Ron said with a juicy chuckle. “He learned early to be ready for trouble. If you aren’t, you’ll get run over and squashed.”
Jack grabbed Brad by the coat collar and hauled him to his feet. Something stirred deep inside Sam. Something primitive that she didn’t even know she possessed. Maybe it was in every female – that strange feeling of being repulsed by violence and turned on by it when it was used to protect her, to defend her. Seeing Jack take care of business like that – it was so flaming hot!
He seemed to notice Ron’s truck for the first time. Pausing, he gave a little salute before saying something else to Brad before he stalked to his own truck. He exited the lot, tires screaming, and hooked a left onto the street.
“Where’s he going?” Sam wondered aloud, since the job site was south, not north.
“Probably going home. It’s after five, so the crew will have already left. Guess I can take you home and we’ll have your car towed tomorrow.”
“Oh, okay.” She watched as Brad limped over to the other man, who was out cold, sprawled on the black asphalt. He didn’t look their way as Ron reversed and drove out of the parking lot.
Sam nibbled her lower lip as a little battle broke out inside her. She should go home, right? That would be sensible. But with her heart hammering in her chest and longing corkscrewing in her stomach, she wanted one thing. To be with Jack. “Ron, take me to Jack’s place.”
“Huh?” He tilted his head, giving her a quizzical look. “Jack’s, you say?”
“Yeah. I . . . uh . . . want to talk to him.”
“He probably isn’t in the mood for a conversation, Sam.”
“Just drop me off there, okay?” She turned her head, giving him an arched stare that she hoped conveyed her true intentions. Ron grinned.
“Well, okay! Sounds like you know what you want.”
“I do. Thanks. And, yes, I’ll figure out what to do with my car tomorrow. It’s not going anywhere tonight, that’s for sure.”
“Tell you what . . . my cousin has a tow truck. I’ll have him pick it up bright and early and take it to Performance Garage. That’s where we have all of our company vehicles worked on. We can park it there until you decide what you want done with it.”
“Thanks, Ron. I’d appreciate that.” And she did, but her car wasn’t her focus. She couldn’t get the vision of Jack Nast striding into battle out of her mind. He was like a gladiator, all power and flexing muscles, showing no fear and not giving his foes a second to strike first. No. He fell on them like an avalanche, besting them before they could muster a defense. Seeing Brad sitting in the parking lot, crying like a baby, sent currents of pure joy and satisfaction coursing through her. She squirmed on the truck seat as her blood heated and her nipples hardened to little pearls. “I’ve never seen anyone fight like that. In person,” she said, mostly to herself, although she was aware of Ron’s grinning regard. “I’ve seen it in movies, yeah, but not in real life. He was like a – a raging bull! Just wham! And it was over before it even began.”
“Jack knows his way around a fight,” Ron said, pride lacing through his voice. “He doesn’t go looking for them, but he knows how to get ʼem done.”
“He sure does.” She stared out the side window, biting her lips to keep from grinning. Jack Nast knew how to fight quick and dirty because of his upbringing. His life had been hard, made more difficult by a no-count, alcoholic father and an obliging mother. He’d gone after Brad and his hit man for her. All for her.
“I think he’s here,” Ron said, turning onto the street where Jack lived. “He parks his truck in the garage, but there are lights on downstairs, so he must be in there.” He stopped the truck in the driveway. “I can still take you home, if you want.”
“No, thanks.” She pulled her keys from her purse and handed him the one for the Thing. “Here’s my car key. Now. will you spring this trap and let me out, please?”
Laughing, he hit the button on the armrest and the locks gave way. “You’re free, woman.”
She slid out of the truck and gave him a wink and a smile before she shut the door and went around the front of the truck to Jack’s. Ron was backing out of the driveway when she rang the bell. Her nerves jangled, but she put iron in her spine and concentrated on the flames of desire shooting through her instead of the ice of reason trying to cool her down. The door swung open and Jack stood there, bare-chested, his belt hanging loose, the top button of his jeans undone, and a puzzled look on his handsome face.
“If you’re here to lecture me, then save your—hey!” he complained as she shoved four fingers into the center of his furred chest and pushed him back a step.
“Let me in,” Sam commanded before she clamped her hands on either side of his strong neck, rose on her toes, and plastered her mouth to his. He stumbled back a step or two more and she kicked the door shut behind her before she tore her mouth from his for a sizzling second. His eyes were wide and sparkling blue and then they narrowed as her intentions were made crystal clear to him. Before he could say a word, she kissed him again and drove her tongue into his warm mouth. His tongue slid along hers and a deep growl rose in him as he clamped his hands on either side of her head and tilted it the way he wanted. Then he took over the kiss, making it hotter and deeper. Turning it into foreplay.
His mouth moved from her lips to her cheek and then her neck, kissing, sucking, licking. “I don’t have any fight left in me,” he murmured against her skin.
“Good. I’m not here to fight with you.” She leaned back far enough to rake her fingernails down his muscled chest and unzip his jeans. “I want you, Jack. Every, single inch of you.”
He groaned and his hands slipped down to the back of her thighs, lifting. She wrapped her legs around him. “You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?” He carried her as if she weighed next to nothing across the room and up the stairs to his bedroom. Falling with her onto the bed, he ground his hips against her as he whipped her sweater up over her head and flung it across the room.
Flames danced in his pupils as he pushed up her bra to let him see her hard, rosy nipples. “Christ Almighty,” he groaned before taking one into his mouth as he dispensed with her bra. His tongue chased her nipple, sending ripples of longing through her that converged between her thighs. He switched to the other breast and she shivered as he squeezed the nipple he’d just released between his thumb and index finger. The hair on his chest tickled her, teased her, felt like silk against her heated skin. She explored his smooth back and shoulders with her hands, getting more turned on when she felt the muscles bunching under her palms. When his teeth scraped over her nipple, she cried out as desire whipped through her, sharp and sweet.
Having fantasized so often about being with him, she tried to catalog every touch and every feeling he incited in her. He was more commanding than she’d imagined, although she had known that he wouldn’t be a hesitant lover. Still, he asked nothing of her and didn’t seem to be checking to be sure what he was doing pleased her. Supremely confident in his ability to arouse her, he stroked her, nipped at her, and encouraged her with grunts, moans, and murmured directions when she moved or touched him in a way he liked.
“That’s right, baby. Yeah, yeah, that’s how I like it.”
“Right there, right fucking there.”
“Harder. Stroke me harder.”
He was unlike anyone she’d ever been with and she loved that about him. Jack Nast was an original in every sense of the word with his roaming hands, hot mouth, and murmured instructions and encouragement. She could barely keep up with him!
She kissed along his shoulder and tasted his salty skin. Nuzzling his neck, she bit down, harder than she meant to at first. He sucked in a breath and brought her mouth to his again.
“Dirty girl,” he rasped against her lips. “Playing dirty. Holy hell, that’s hot.”
His tongue swept over her lips and then he took her lower lip between his teeth and sucked. She arched her back and her hands sought him, her fingers gripping his hard length. She pushed his jeans and jockeys down his hips and he kicked them off the rest of the way, sending them sailing.
Tracing along his length and girth, she sighed at the heft of him in her palm, the veins she could feel, the pulse of blood under his skin. God, he was hard as steel! Her thumb gathered a bead of moisture and painted the head with it. Sliding off the bed, he removed the rest of her clothes while his gaze explored every inch of skin he exposed.
“You’re a beautiful creature, Samantha Striker,” he said, his voice deep and growly. “And I’m going to fuck you so hard, you’ll scream for mercy.”
Her eyes widened as surprise and a twinge of shock shuddered through her. She’d never had a man talk to her like that and it made her wet and achy. “So, do it,” she said, clutching at the side of his hips, yanking him closer. “You have a condom around here, right?”
“Right.” He shifted toward the nightstand, opened the top drawer, and withdrew a string of them. Ripping off one, he sheathed himself and then, without wasting another second, drove right up into her.
“Oh, God!” Her butt came off the bed and she grabbed his shoulders as he burned inside her, dividing her so that her inner muscles screamed and convulsed around the intrusion. “You’re big,” she said on a gasp.
His smile was predatory without a lick of sympathy. “Yeah. I know. Feels good, doesn’t it, darlin’?” He rocked into her, then pulled out halfway before shoving back in.
Damn, if it didn’t feel good. She closed her eyes, amazed at how the hot friction built within her and burst into flames when he started sawing back and forth, his cock hitting sensitive places and teasing her clit with every stroke. Shivers turned into shudders and her passion peaked, drowning her in its ferocity. Guttural sounds emerged from her throat. At some point her hands slipped off his shoulders and she sprawled, supine and boneless under him as he continued his relentless pace. The bed shook with every thrust and so did she.
This is sex. Pure, undiluted, no sugar on top sex, her muddled mind determined. She’d never felt it so raw and natural, this release of feelings that had been simmering and now burst into flames. Probably because she’d never wanted a man as desperately as she’d wanted this one.
He kissed her, his lips plucking hers before slipping down between her breasts to her stomach. Running the tip of his tongue around her navel, he blew a stream of air just below it, making her skin break out in tiny bumps.
“What are you doing to me?” she murmured, her eyes fluttering open to see his grin. His hands moved beneath her and he flipped her over. He stretched out, his big body flattening hers into the mattress. Linking fingers, he positioned their hands on either side of her head on the pillow as his cock shoved inside of her again. The angle was deep, touching new places. She moaned. She couldn’t come again this soon. Her body was too feverish, too spent. He gripped her hands tighter and grunted as he leaned into each thrust and parry. She shook her head, denying the sparks of lust bursting deep inside her. But it was futile. She came again, this time with long spasms that radiated from her center out to her fingers and toes. Trembling, she panted beneath him and chanted his name.
“Jack, Jack, Jack!”
He let go of her hands and brushed her hair out of her eyes and off her damp cheeks. “We’re not done,” he whispered, kissing her shoulder and running the tip of his tongue down her spine. He wrapped his hand around her wrist and the other on her knee, tipping her onto her side and lifting her leg to accommodate him. He slid in and her body stretched more to allow him entrance. He pulled out, shifted a little behind her, and then hoisted her leg a bit higher before joining his body to hers again. Tiny explosions popped in her as he moved. He cupped her chin in his palm and brought her face around to him. His eyes were brilliant blue, shining with lust.
“Let me see you, beautiful girl,” he whispered against her ear. “I want to see you come. You’re so pretty when you come. Feel that, Samantha?” He seated himself deeply in her. “You like that, baby?”
“Mmm-hmmm.” She nodded, keeping her eyes on his as her body responded to his every nuance. She was a rag doll in his hands and she loved being manipulated by him. She’d experienced equal pleasure with men, giving as good as she received. There was no equality in bed with Jack. He was in charge and she was along for the ride. And what a ride! She’d never come so many times in such quick succession. Ever. Didn’t think her body was capable of enduring wave after wave of mindless pleasure. He was right. She was on the verge of screaming his name as he ground his hips against her and pulled her leg back a little more so that he could arch higher and at a steeper angle inside her. His hardness rubbed the throbbing nub of her desire and the world disappeared as a dark wave of passion swept over her.
“Ohhh, Jack!” His name burst from her, loud and high and frantic. She felt his release as his hips juddered against her and he growled her name.
She panted as hot tears stung her eyes. Why she was crying, she couldn’t fathom, other than the feelings whirling through her were complicated and foreign and very scary. This man could so easily own her. Own her. God, what a strange notion! But it was there in her heart and burrowing in her mind. She could give him everything and not regret it, and that was so not her. She prided herself on her independence, her firm handle on who she was and what she wanted, and not ever thinking of herself as girly or soft. Yet, with this man, she wanted to purr and be petted. She wanted him to possess her, claim her. He kissed her and his tongue smothered her mewling cries – sounds she hadn’t even realized she was making until he stopped them.
She sighed, stretching out into a starfish beside him. His furry chest rose and fell as his breath whistled out of him. He ran a hand down his center and chuckled.
“Damn, that was fun.” He turned his head to stare at her, his eyes lighter blue now. “How about you? You okay there, Samantha?”
Samantha. He called her that in bed, but she was Sam out of it.
“You are a beast,” she said, totally serious. “That cock of yours is a monster.”
“Ah, but you tamed it, mon tigresse.”
She shivered and smiled. When he called her that . . . He’d gotten rid of the condom at some point, but he wasn’t limp by any means. His cock twitched and lifted as if seeking her.
“Oh, my God. Are you ever sated?”
“Yes.” He chuckled and twisted onto his side to palm her breast. Leaning close, he sucked her nipple and some of her mound into his mouth and moaned appreciatively.
Sam’s eyes drifted close as sweet sensations swirled through her. His hand cupped her other breast and kneaded gently as his fingertips danced over her hardening nipple. “You taste like sex and honey,” he said. He dragged the flat of his tongue over the slope of her breast and then blew cool air on her, making the sensitive tip pucker to the point of pain. “Look at that. Your body is a beautiful instrument, Samantha.”
