Текст книги "Dangerously Broken"

Автор книги: Eden Bradley

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

CHAPTER

Seven

“QUIET NOW,” JAMIE said, placing his hand over Summer’s mouth and pressing hard enough to let her know he meant business—hard enough that it pressed her head into the downy softness of the mattress a little. And her sex went hot at the utter command in that small action.

He yanked her shorts down over her legs, his other hand still tight over her mouth. He pulled her sandals off and straddled her body, grinning down at her, his face utterly masculine and beautiful in the dim wash of silvery moonlight that shone through one of the open shutters. He looped a finger through the edge of her lace thong. She arched her hips, needing him to touch her, but he let the lace go and laid a heavy hand on her hip.

“Still,” he said, his tone full of authority.

She stopped moving, her breath coming out in hot pants against the hand clamped across her mouth. Her sex went tight, making her aware of how wet she was, how swollen.

Need him, need him, need him.

He was making her crazy. But she would do as she was told. He was right—the spanking had taken the fire out of her. Now all she wanted—needed—was to please him. Partly because she knew he wouldn’t reward her with the pleasure she craved otherwise, but also purely for the sake of pleasing him.

Jamie.

As she lay there blinking up at him, his grin faded and his expression shifted, his brows drawing together as he slid one hand over her breast.

“No bra. It really does seem like you dressed for me tonight. Good girl.”

She wasn’t about to argue. Not at this point. And maybe she had, somewhere in the back of her mind.

“But do you remember what happens to good girls, sugar?” he went on. “In case you’ve forgotten, a lot of things. And I can’t ever let you guess which way it’ll go, can I? Sometimes it’ll be putting my hand between your thighs and pressing my fingers into your hot pussy. And sometimes it might be spanking you until your skin is raw—because good or bad, you will get spanked. But you like that, don’t you, baby? You’ll like this, too.”

He drew back and used both hands to pinch her nipples, the fabric of her ribbed tank top grating against her flesh.

She moaned.

“Not enough? You never can get enough, but I love that about you.”

He pinched harder, twisting her sensitive flesh between his fingertips.

“Oh, God, Jamie!”

“‘Oh God’ good or ‘Oh God’ bad?”

“Both!”

He chuckled. “That’s my girl.”

His girl. Yes.

Then her entire body tried to arc off the bed as he pinched her so damn hard she nearly screamed, but he was still straddling her, holding her down. And immediately she was soaking, aching.

“Ah, you like that, sugar. Yeah, you do. You’re gonna like this, too.”

He tore his white tank top over his head. She could never see his body without appreciating the ripple of muscle in his abs, his shoulders, his biceps. Without his ink turning her on. And those luscious pierced nipples.

She groaned.

“Yeah, baby. I like to hear that—to hear your pleasure. I need it like I need my own breath.”

He bent over her and pushed her tank top up, baring her naked breasts, and placed a soft, hot kiss between them. She sighed. He turned his head and bit into the soft flesh.

“Ah!”

He shifted and took one stiff nipple into his mouth, stroking it with his tongue, then sucking hard, hurting her. Then he licked at the sore skin before sucking hard again. He was driving her mad, the pleasure and the pain some crazy elixir she couldn’t get enough of.

He moved down her body, lower and lower, until he was licking and kissing and nibbling his way around the lace of her thong. He forced her thighs apart with rough hands and moved his face lower. She felt the scruff on his jaw against one thigh, then he yanked the lace aside and plunged his tongue right into her.

“Oh! God . . .”

He began to fuck her with his tongue, hard and fast and relentless. Desire was like a series of electric shocks rumbling through her body. She needed more. Needed to come. But she knew this would be at his pace. Under his control.

Yes.

Suddenly he pressed his fingers into her—she didn’t know how many—and spread them inside her so that she was filled up, and he began a hard pumping.

“Jamie . . . I can’t take it. I can’t . . . can’t wait.”

“You can do it. Take it for me. Wait to come.”

Sensation built, a tight coil in her belly. Liquid heat in her sex. Her hips arched into his thrusting fingers and he pulled them away. She almost sobbed, her hands scrabbling at the cool sheets. But in moments he’d replaced his fingers with his hot, wet tongue and she sighed in relief. Sighed with indescribable pleasure when he began to lick her sensitive clit, his tongue moving fast, pressing hard, until the pleasure itself hurt. But she wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Her climax started to shiver through her, and he stopped.

“No . . . please.”

He clamped his hand across her mouth once more. “Shh. No pleading. No begging. You’ll get what I choose to give you. You’ll give me your pleasure, sugar girl. And when I ask for it you’ll give me your orgasm, too, won’t you? Tell me,” he demanded.

He took his hand away and she gasped, “Yes, Jamie.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, I’ll come for you. For you.”

“That’s my good girl.”

He went back to work with his lovely tongue, torturing her with pleasure while he pinched the inside of her thighs with hard, hurting fingers. The pain made sensation spiral once more, taking her higher and higher, until she couldn’t think at all. She was nothing but sensation, riding the rolling waves up and down as Jamie dictated with his touch—or his denial of it. Each time she reached that crest and couldn’t hold her climax back any longer, he backed off, forcing her to pace herself. Finally he pulled away completely and sat up. She was too limp with pleasure and pain, her system too suffused by it all, to do anything more than blink up at him.

“Spread wider for me, sweetheart.” She did as he asked. “Oh yeah, that’s it. Your beautiful pussy, so wet and pink and sweet as a peach in the summertime.” He licked his lush mouth and her sex clenched hard. “I love the taste of you, baby. I want to drink you up.” He unbuttoned his jeans and she held her breath as his smooth skin was revealed. “But right now I need to fuck you even more.”

Then he was naked and sheathing his beautiful cock with a condom he’d taken from the table next to the bed. He dragged her by the ankles to the foot of the mattress and hooked her heels over his shoulders.

“Hands clasped over your head, my good girl.”

He held his cock at the entrance to her pussy, brushing it over the swollen lips. Then he plunged.

“Ah! Jamie!”

“Don’t you come. You come when I tell you to. Understood?”

“Yes,” she panted.

He pulled out of her and she wanted to cry. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, I come when you tell me I can.”

“Ah, that’s my good sugar girl.” He caressed his thick cock, wrapping his fingers around it and beginning to stroke. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard. I’m gonna fuck you until you can barely breathe—until I lose my breath. Until I am so deep inside you will never forget me.”

She almost came right then, but his command was even more powerful than the pleasure he brought her. She bit her lip and held it back as he pushed into her once more, his length and girth filling her completely. As he did exactly what he said he would. He fucked her so hard she slid up on the sheets, and she had to force herself to hold her clasped hands over her head, as he’d ordered. But he grabbed her hips and dragged her back to the edge of the bed, then lifted her bottom higher, allowing him to surge deeper inside her in long strokes. And in between she caught small flashes of their reflection in the big mirror—it was one of the hottest things she’d ever seen.

He tilted his hips, his hands digging into her bottom, lifting her. He gave one lovely, savage thrust that really fucking hurt, that made her feel as if she were drowning in pleasure.

“Oh, oh . . . God!”

She was blinded by sensation, her vision swimming. She felt beautifully powerless, giving it all over to Jamie.

The pressure built, but he pinched the top of her thigh hard enough to bring her out of it, away from the ready edge of orgasm.

“Ow!”

“‘Ow’ is not a safeword, sugar,” he panted, his dimples making tiny, irresistible divots in his cheeks.

She started to laugh, tried to swallow it, but she was too high on endorphins and the pleasure swamping her body, and she couldn’t get it under control. Jamie was smiling down at her as he fucked her, his hips slamming into hers, never slowing down. But soon his smile turned to a baring of teeth as he shivered, and she stopped giggling. He was shaking all over. “Now!” His voice was a hoarse groan. “Come, baby.”

He pressed onto her clit with his fingertips—she didn’t even need it. Her body exploded, sensation like a thousand points of light inside her, searing her with pleasure so intense she really was blinded for several long moments—or minutes. She didn’t know. It didn’t matter. All she knew was their trembling bodies, every hot, silky place where their skin met, where flesh touched flesh. The smell of him all over her. His cries and her own.

Finally the only sound was their panting breath and the low, chirping hum of the cicadas outside. Jamie collapsed on top of her, then rolled onto his side and pulled her into his arms. He held her loosely at first, but when he tightened his arms around her, tears pooled behind her eyes.

Damn it!

She pulled in the humid, come-scented air and blew out a few breaths in a row.

“Hey, baby. What is it?”

“It’s . . . nothing. Really. I don’t know. Just an emotional night, I guess. I’m good, though. I am.”

“You trying to convince me or yourself?”

“Both of us, maybe?”

“Good girl.”

“Jamie—”

He lifted his head to look at her, catching her chin with his fingertips. “Hey. I’m not mocking you, sweetheart. I mean it. I like that you can be so honest with me. And it’s okay. Anyway, if I called you a bad girl you might kick me, and I’ve already known the mighty power of your wrath tonight.”

One corner of his mouth quirked and she smacked his chest, pausing to appreciate the solid wall of muscle there.

“See?”

“Oh, there’s much worse where that came from,” she told him, her mood lifting.

“Don’t think you’re gonna convince me to switch, sugar, ’cause that ain’t happening.”

“Ha! As if I ever thought it might.”

He grabbed her as he rolled onto his back until she was on top of him. “No? You never thought you might try to do me with a strap-on?”

Summer rolled her eyes. “I don’t know that I’ve ever wanted to do anyone with a strap-on, but if I did, it sure as hell would not be you, Jamie Stewart-Greer! I may be a lot of things, but I’m not stupid. Or delusional.”

“Then kiss me like you’re the Top here.”

She giggled. “Well, I am on top of you.”

“Shut up and kiss me, my good girl.”

“Just for that I might have to be bad.”

“Oh, really?”

He arched one dark brow before pulling her face down to his by her hair and kissing her so hard she could barely catch her breath.

She began to melt instantly, but when he let her go she couldn’t help sassing him. “Being bad is still sounding like an attractive option.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Before she had a chance to think about it he’d flipped her onto her stomach and was straddling her, one arm pinned behind her back. She loved the way he manhandled her—her greedy sex was pulsing with a hot, stinging desire already. Still, she said, “I can be bad from down here, you know.”

“Summer Grace?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m getting hard again.”

“And?”

“And we’re about to find out if you like being at the other end of a strap-on made of flesh.”

She blinked twice before she fully understood what that meant. “Ohhh.”

He chuckled but kept a firm grip on her arm as he leaned over her, and her head was at the right angle to see what he took from the drawer: a tube of lube, a few condoms, and a pack of baby wipes. Even knowing what he had in mind had her squirming.

“Hold still, my little sugar girl, and I might go easy on you. Nah, who am I kidding?”

“Jamie—”

One sharp smack on her ass and she bit her tongue to keep quiet.

“That’s better. Now I need both my hands but you’re to keep your arm behind your back. In fact, up on your knees . . . yeah, that’s it, but keep your face on the bed. You can use one arm to stabilize yourself—you’re gonna need it.”

She closed her eyes and waited, trying not to move as he spread the cheeks of her ass and rubbed a good amount of the anal gel lubricant on with his fingers. She hadn’t been touched there by a man in far too long. And now it was going to be Jamie. And it felt so damn good.

Oh yes.

He slipped his other hand around her waist and played with her clit while he teased the tight hole of her ass with his lubed fingers. She wanted to push back into him, to impale herself, but she was trying to behave, to comply. And her head was sinking into subspace—something that had always happened to her during anal play, even though she hadn’t always known what to call it. There was something very submissive for her about giving up that part of her body to a man. And with Jamie . . . well, anything that had felt even remotely submissive to her before was magnified by a hundred with him. By a thousand.

“Breathe in,” he instructed her, and she did, her body instantly going loose as she anticipated what was about to happen.

“Good, yes. Relax, sugar.”

He slipped one fingertip inside her. She wanted more—so much more. But she also understood this was how it was done—a little at a time until he knew what she could take. He pressed it in the tiniest bit farther, slid it out, and pleasure was a long, wistful sigh in her body.

“Breathe,” he commanded.

She did, and he slid a second finger in with the first. This time she had to really let her muscles go slack to allow the two fingers in past the tight ring of muscle. There was a small burning sensation, but his other hand teasing her clitoris was helping. That and the fact that she loved the sensation of her ass being filled, that she’d been yearning for this kind of play.

He pressed deeper, and she couldn’t help it—she surged back.

Immediately his hand left her clit and pressed onto the small of her back. “Easy there. You will get what I give you. Remember? You can answer me.”

“Yes. I remember.”

“Good girl.”

That melting sensation again—with the small part of her mind not otherwise engaged she figured she’d better get used to it.

When he started a slow pumping inside her ass pleasure poured through her system like some slow, warm liquid. She could almost picture it in her head like a length of heavy silken rope, twisting and turning as his fingers did inside her body.

“Mmmm.”

“You like that, baby? I can tell you do. And I love that you’re into this—into having me violate your sweet ass. Because my cock is going in soon. As soon as I feel you’re ready for it. But I have to tell you, sugar, I am so damn ready. So damn hard. I can feel the blood like a pulsebeat in my cock. And I want nothing more than to plow into you. To fuck your beautiful ass. But first let’s see how many more of my fingers you can take.”

He pulled his fingers out and she felt him add a third at her opening, felt him twine his fingertips together into a point before pushing back into her.

“Ah!”

“Too much, baby? Tell me.”

“No. It’s good. So good.”

“That’s what I want to hear.”

His fingers pushed in slowly, and she couldn’t deny there was as much pain as there was pleasure for the first few moments—or that she loved the pain as much as the pleasure. She breathed into it, converting the pain, breathing it in, breathing out nothing but the lovely sensations of being filled and commanded and taken by him. By him.

Several minutes passed in which his fingers surged into her ass, then out again, in again, pausing to twist, then turning as he pulled back once more. He was pressing and tapping her hard clit with his other hand, his fingers dipping in and out of her swollen, needy sex. Her mind was a blur of sensation, her body full of desire, overflowing with it.

He pulled out of her and said very quietly, “Have to fuck your pretty little ass now, my sugar girl.”

He spread more of the lube on her anus, then parted her cheeks. She inhaled, taking in the scent of the clean, crisp sheets and pulling it deep into her lungs. His sheathed cock rested at the opening, and then he began to push. Ever so slowly—too slowly, yet at the same time it was perfect. The thick head took a few moments to pass the tight ring of muscle, then it slid in and she couldn’t help but clench for a moment as if to hold him there.

“Easy,” he told her.

She forced her body to relax once more and he pushed deeper, then deeper still, and she felt the weight and girth of his cock inside her body. He was big, but she could take it. She wanted to. Needed to.

He pressed deeper and she felt that point where his cock widened close to his body push into her, his hips tight up against her ass, his strong thighs right behind hers.

“Ah . . .”

He laid his hand at the small of her back once more and exerted some pressure—just enough to make her feel his authority. She fucking loved it. All conscious thought drained from her as sensation took her over completely—as Jamie did. His arm came around her waist and he held her tight, a small gasping pant escaping him as he tilted his hips and pressed into her as deep as he could go.

She was panting then, in short, sharp bursts. So much need, so much pleasure. So much being under Jamie’s command. At Jamie’s mercy. And she felt it vaguely as something clicked in her mind—or maybe it was in her chest—some new level of emotion and vulnerability. Some new level of trust.

Then he pulled back and began to fuck her. He kept his strokes long and slow, moving in and out of her sinuously while the hand on her back slipped up her spine until it was on the back of her neck and he was pressing her cheek down hard into the mattress.

Yes. His.

“His,” she whispered, wanting to feel the word on her lips.

His hips moved a little faster, his thick cock surging into her, pulling out almost to the tip before he buried himself in her once more. Desire jabbed deeper into her system with every slow thrust. She wanted to come—needed to—and almost thought she could just from this. He fucked her harder, his cock plunging deeper, and she was shaking all over with pleasure. With yielding.

“Still good, baby? Tell me.”

She tried to speak, but she was drowning in sensation—physically, mentally.

He paused. “Summer? You good? Talk to me.”

She forced her brain to engage. “I . . . Jamie . . . It’s so damn good. God . . . I can’t . . . Please don’t stop. Don’t stop.”

But rather than taking away from what she was feeling, saying the words only made it hotter. Her sex and her ass tightened, making Jamie groan.

“Jesus, that’s good. Need to come. Fuck, I need to come. Need to fuck you harder. Yeah . . .” His cock jabbed into her, hard and deep, a few savage thrusts that had her gasping. “Ah, baby . . . my baby. Fuck, yeah!”

He roared as he came, his hands on her digging into her flesh. And she gave herself over to it—to Jamie and pleasure and pain. She felt so acutely his cock pulsing inside her ass. Felt him trembling. And even before he was done he was rubbing at her clit with the heel of his hand. Almost instantly her body shivered with heat, her climax slamming into her, a wall of sensation, lightning-hot ecstasy. His still-hard cock was buried deep in her ass as she came so hard she saw stars, the room going black. He kept working her clit, his cock moving inside her, milking her climax until she couldn’t take any more.

He bent over her, his breath heavy in her hair, the front of his body pressing against her spine so that she could feel every muscled plane of his torso, every contraction of his abs, every delightful shiver that went through him.

“Jesus Christ, sweetheart. I swear you are gonna kill me. But I’ve never felt anything like I do with you. Never.”

She smiled to herself, knowing she felt the same. She didn’t need to say it—couldn’t say anything right now, with her muscles and her brain turned to goo.

Jamie leaned his weight into her, pressing her body down onto the bed. Then he began to pull out of her very slowly, making her want to come some more. Or maybe just to never let him go.

Never let me go.

She sighed. Sank into the idea of never. Of forever. With Jamie.

She was too far gone for it to even make her blink. No, she’d blink later.

“Okay, pulling out now. Take a breath.”

She tried to do as he said, but she was absolutely limp. With coming. Maybe even more with submission itself. She was down deep in subspace. Full of sensation and endorphins and love. Too far gone to even want to really fight it.

Fuck.

But no—it was fine. She had always loved him. Always. Even when he made it hard to.

He pulled out of her, moving slowly, and it only hurt a little. Not enough to matter, except the pain always mattered in that it was what she wanted from him.

I am not making sense.

It didn’t matter. Nothing did except that they were there together and she was his. His.

“Come on, my sugar girl,” he said gently, his voice rough. “Let’s get us both into a nice, hot shower.”

He rolled her onto her back and took her hand, his fingers joining with hers and folding over them. When she simply lay there one corner of his mouth lifted and a dimple flickered in his cheek. “You gonna get up, sweetheart?”

“Mmm. Yes, Jamie.”

“Oh, you are totally out in space, aren’t you? God, it looks good on you, my sugar girl. To know I took you there. It’s a beautiful thing. Mm-mm, if I hadn’t just come twice in a row I’d have to fuck you again. But maybe after we’ve had that shower.”

She smiled and he bent down to pull the red blanket from beneath her and covered her with it. “You stay here until I get the water going. I’ll be back for you in a sec.”

She watched the perfection that was his ass as he walked away from her and disappeared into the bathroom. Idly playing with the soft edge of the blanket, she blinked, watching the reflection of the dark, rainy sky through the open shutter on one of the windows. The streetlamps made tiny prisms of the droplets slipping down the glass, each one a reflection of the amber light splintered into pink and green and blue. It must have been two or three in the morning and somehow light had found a way to make a rainbow, as if just for her.

She let out a small laugh. She really was high as a kite on those wonderful endorphins. And oxytocin and dopamine and whatever else was released in her brain during play and sex and being touched by Jamie.

“Okay, beautiful, up you go.”

Jamie lifted her, and her head was light, but she wanted to walk. She looped her arm around his waist and he kept his firmly around hers as they moved into the steamy bathroom, then into the shower stall.

She loved that he’d made it so big and luxurious when he remodeled the house. The dark-green slate was so him, somehow. He’d even built a small bench seat into it. A bamboo rack held shampoo and soap and a few other items. She took the warm air into her lungs, savoring the earthy scent of Jamie’s soap.

“Hold still, sugar,” he said. “I’m gonna wash you.”

Oh, she loved when he took care of her like this, the washcloth gliding over her skin as he carefully lathered every inch of her body. He kept his other hand at her waist or the small of her back, knowing she wasn’t entirely steady on her feet. How was it she flew so hard with so little pain play? But it was Jamie, and everything was different with him.

“You need your hair washed, sweetheart? Yes, you do.” He leaned in close and spoke softly into her ear, “I think you need to be thoroughly fucked and have your hair washed every day.”

She couldn’t quite take in what he was telling her, what he might be insinuating—she was too floaty still. All she knew was that she loved him saying these things to her, the husky tone of his voice.

He slipped a hand under her hair and behind her neck to hold her steady, and with the other he used the pressure point in the center of her breastbone to push her back under the water—just enough pain to direct her. She sighed in pure pleasure at the warm water gliding over her skin, at the little bit of pain, his command of her. The way he cared for her.

“No one has ever taken care of me the way you do, Jamie,” she said, the words a soft murmur that came out before she could stop them.

“No, that can’t be true. Your family at least . . .”

“Sure, when I was a kid. My parents. Brandon. But after he died, everyone who was left just sort of disappeared. We talked about that.”

“Yes.”

“So . . . since then I’ve been on my own, for the most part. You know, no one made me breakfast ever again. Not once. No more birthday pancakes with bananas and whipped cream. No Christmas trees or camping or any of the other million little things that made up our life. Our family.” She opened her eyes as he finished rinsing her hair and grasped his strong forearm, looking up at him. “I’m not sinking into self-pity, Jamie—really, I’m not. I’m just realizing how much I’ve missed this sort of thing. It’s the kind of stuff I haven’t risked looking at all these years.”

He stroked her wet hair from her face. His eyes were so green, but dark, like the slate tile in the shower. A little shadowed.

“Of course, sweetheart. How could you look at it, dwell on it, without it tearing you up? A lot of people would have done just that, but you stayed strong.”

She nodded. “But can I tell you a secret, Jamie? I’ve craved it the whole damn time. I had a little of it when I went over to Dennie’s house. Her grandmother, Annalee, has been so good to me all these years, but there was always the awareness that I didn’t quite belong to her, even though she made every effort to make me feel included. But some part of me always knew in the back of my mind that something was missing, because I used to know what it felt like to really belong.”

He searched her face for several long moments, but it didn’t make her afraid. She felt wide open to him and it felt good, as if at that moment she could tell him anything. There was no fear for once. She simply waited to see what he would ask her or tell her or do.

“And now, Summer Grace?”

She bit her lip, took what felt like a risk even in her current state of happy serenity. “And now I’m beginning to feel like maybe I belong somewhere again.”

He blinked hard but he didn’t pull away, didn’t let her go. His hand on the back of her neck flexed, then slid around to cup her face while his free hand moved up to hold her other cheek. Some time passed while he stared into her eyes, the warm water falling, soothing her skin while her heart tried to hammer its way out of her chest—his gaze was that intense. Anticipation was that powerful.

“You do, sweetheart,” he said. “We can work everything else out, but know that you do. Know it. You belong to me.”

Her chest went tight, then was flooded with heat. With love.

Love him.

She could only nod and wait to be kissed.

He watched her face for another moment before he bent his head and pulled her up on her toes and crushed his mouth to hers.

His kiss was hungry, but it wasn’t sex. Or, it wasn’t all about sex, anyway—there would always be sex between them. The chemistry was far too hot. But there was as much emotion and stark honesty right now. She curled her body into his as she sought his warm, sleek tongue. As his strong arms held her tight. As the warm, lovely water fell in the shower and the rain fell in the New Orleans night outside.

*   *   *

JAMIE SLID ONTO a stool at Flynn McCool’s, the local pub he and Mick and all of Mick’s brothers had been going to since they’d each hit drinking age. He liked the casual atmosphere of the Irish pub, the long wooden bar, the old wide-plank floors, the vintage beer signs. It was a quiet place, where games of darts and pool took the place of the usual television blaring some sports game or another found in most other bars. They’d been coming for years, hanging out, playing some pool. It was also one of the places they went to confide in each other, male style.

He grinned as he nodded at the bartender, who knew him well enough to pass him a pint of Guinness, then automatically drew another from the tap when Mick came in and sat next to Jamie.

“Hey.”

“Hey, Mick.”

“Is this an emergency meeting or are we here to shoot the shit?”

Jamie shrugged. “I’m pretty sure you’ve talked to Allie, who I know damn well has talked to Summer Grace, so you tell me.”

Mick tossed a tip on the bar as the bartender slid his pint of ale to him. “I’m not hearing any complaints, and anything else she’s keeping to herself. I figure Summer is safe enough with you, you wicked bastard.”

“Hey, don’t go questioning my heritage,” Jamie warned, letting a little of the Scottish come through in his voice.

Mick gulped at his beer. “Your mother could have been seduced by a wayward mailman,” he countered. “Wait—do they have mailmen in Scotland?”

“Postmen. Same thing. But Mum would have gone for the milkman first. I hear he was a smart, dapper dude.”

“Hearing you say ‘dude’ with that accent is fucking with my brain.”

Jamie slapped him on the back. “Ha! Then my work here is done.”

“You’re awful damn cheerful.”

“And you, as usual, are not.”

“Fuck off, Jamie,” Mick said cheerfully.

Jamie clutched his chest. “You’re breaking my heart.”

Mick smacked at Jamie’s arm. “Whatever. Tell me what we’re doing here, lover boy.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“Damn right I am,” Mick muttered into his pint.

Jamie took a long swallow. “All right, all right. So, it’s been a little over a week since I dragged Summer Grace out of the cemetery—”

“Caveman style,” Mick interrupted.

“Yeah. So?”

Mick raised his glass. “So, nothing. Just marveling at your luck. Not everyone gets a second chance at fucking up so royally.”

“Thanks for the reminder.”

“I live to serve. How’s it been going?”

“Good. Really good.”

“Why do I have a feeling that’s the understatement of the year?”

Jamie shrugged. “Maybe because it is.”