Jennifer Probst - Sex, Lies and Contracts

“When are you going to let yourself go?” He lowered his voice to a hypnotic demand. “You teach poetry, for God’s sakes. Too much control and the writing lies flat and lifeless. Look at you. You’re practically shaking with need. I can make you shatter just by slipping my hand down your pants.”

Julianna fought for breath, fought for control, fought for sanity. As if taming a wild stallion, he pressed his lips to her temple in mock gentleness, then spoke against her ear.

Sex contains all, bodies, souls,

Meanings, proofs, purities, delicacies, results, promulgations,

Songs, commands, health, pride, the maternal mystery, the seminal milk,

All hopes, benefactions, bestowals, all the passions, loves,

beauties, delights of the earth….

She shook hard, on the verge of an actual orgasm. The slow slide of his tongue over her lobe teased and taunted, and Julianna clawed for control. His low wicked laugh told her he knew how bad she wanted him. Still, she refused to yield and forced out her words. “Where did you learn that poem?”

“Walt Whitman literally drips sex onto the page. A Woman Waits For Me . I happen to be read in other things besides Dr. Seuss. But I guess I’m still not good enough for you. Quoting poetry and making you come means nothing without money.” With a sneer he stepped back. “Enjoy your night.”

He walked away and left her. Aching. Empty.

And alone.

Jack took a long pull of beer and gazed out at the ocean, his feet propped up on the back deck. The Schooner cut through the water with steadfast smoothness and grace. The sails hugged and caught the wind, and the lights of the horizon flickered in the distance.

He wanted her.

The knowledge twisted his belly with disgust. The irony was almost too much. He searched for a woman who’d love him for himself. Yet, he bodily craved one who was the literal poster image of a greedy, shallow socialite wanting to marry for the exact wealth and title he possessed.

She pissed him off. Her date had barely looked her in the eye, let alone bothered to see past that horrible outfit she wore. For God’s sakes, jeans and tank top would have looked sexier than that buttoned-up floral number. The fabric covered her from neck to ankle.

He cursed under his breath. Why the hell did he care? He had a dozen phone numbers in his pocket. Some were more suited to one-nighters, but the other half might contain the number of his future wife. Julianna Waters was a dead frikkin end.

But she called to his sense of challenge. He wanted to be the first to claim her virginal lure. The hunger in those seething dark eyes made him crave to touch her and bring pleasure. He yearned to wipe the polite façade from her face and unearth the glimmer of passion and rawness hiding beneath. When he quoted Whitman, he’d almost had her. The connection surged hot and strong, and she’d been ready to crumble. But his temper reared. For God’s sakes, her mission to marry a man with money trumped all other impulses—even pleasure.

He put the beer down and focused on re-tacking the sail to change direction. The tangy scent of salt water calmed his nerves. The ocean had roared in his blood since youth, and often when he was uneasy or needed to clear his thoughts, sailing was the only activity to bring him calm. Once he married and the company had the necessary stability, he planned on travelling for most of the year, especially to the ports in the US where his heart now lay. Newport soothed his soul. He missed his father, especially out on the water when he felt a piece of himself was missing.

Time to rebuild. Time to step up, claim his heritage, and be the man his father always wanted. If he found someone to love within the marriage, his life could be complete. If not, he’d do his duty, but he’d crave his soul mate for the rest of his life.

He finished his beer and headed back to the harbor.

An image of half parted lips and sleepy dark eyes haunted him. He fought the impulse to hunt and bury his aching cock inside her.

There would be no sleep tonight.

Julianna pushed the covers back and climbed out of bed. Her nightgown stuck to her body, damp with sweat from her dream. The walls of the Cliff House closed around her, pulsing like in the Haunting of Hell House and drove her through the doors.

She stood on the pathway. A sliver of moon peeked behind the drifting clouds, and lights sprinkled down the walkway, past the ocean’s cliff illuminating a dim beacon that allowed her to pick her way along the cobblestone path. Instinct pushed her to follow the familiar route and avoid the sharp drops and hidden cracks until she perched by the heavy rocks.

Julianna gazed out at the night, her body burning as if fevered. Her nightgown twisted around her bare legs and the cool breeze rushed between her thighs, inciting more heat. She swallowed a sob and cursed the man who’d dragged her sexual needs into the light of day.

She wanted him. Right or wrong, he was the first man who’d declared he wanted to claim her and bring pleasure. Her experiences were few and far between. She’d lost her virginity on a second date in a car. A few fumbling attempts and one thrust completed the experience. He’d never spoken to her again and she hadn’t cared. A brief affair with a man her parents hoped she’d marry had given her no gratification. He’d been proper in public and messy in private. Again, she’d been left cold and unsatisfied as he lay sated beside her. Her masturbation attempts were more satisfactory, but they left her burning for more fulfillment, her fingers never quite able to soothe the wild beast inside.

The years caring for her parents finally took its toll and slowly stripped away her sexuality. She’d wrestled those messy emotions into a cold, dark corner and the yearning finally receded.

Until Jack.

The waves screamed and the moon gleamed. Safe in the darkness, she cried out in frustration as her blood heated for a man’s hands on her body. She ripped the pins from her hair and let the wild waves blow in the breeze. Her hands cupped her breasts, massaging them through the thin cotton material, and with an animal moan she ripped down her bodice.

Her nipples ached and pebbled in the cool air. She pinched them and arched back, reveling in her brief nakedness. The crash of the waves against the rocks drove her on and she yanked up her gown, parted her legs, and slid her fingers inside her panties.

She was swollen and aching for something she couldn’t have. Her lips cursed his name as she parted her slick folds and rubbed the swollen nub, back and forth, the steady rhythm tightening the tension inch by inch until her orgasm rushed forth. Her cry echoed over the cliffs as she climaxed. Tears leaked down her cheeks at the release, even as she recognized the empty ache inside her pussy could only be filled by a man. She lay on the rocks for a while, legs splayed, and waited for the control to seep back into her body. Finally she pushed her nightgown back down and rose, a bit unsteady. With a determined breath, she picked her way back to the pathway.

Then froze.

He stood before her, a dark looming figure silhouetted against the rise of the cliff. Julianna sucked in her breath as waves of sexual energy hit her full force. He kept completely still, every muscle locked tight, yet there was a predatory aura in his stillness that tempted her to run. As if he sensed her impulse, he closed the distance between them and the moonlight lifted the shadow from his face.

“No.” The word broke from her lips in her last attempt to deny what he wanted to claim. She knew it was useless—knew in that moment she’d give herself to him and whatever he wanted from her. Her starved body took control and her brief denial drifted uselessly on the ocean breeze to disappear forever.