Read Online Saving Sara (Masters of the Castle) by Maren Smith - Free Book Online Page B

His hands weren’t gentle; Sara didn’t care if his fingers left bruises. She’d have worn them for him. She’d have worn them like jewelry.
    He gripped her inner thighs, and she opened to him. The look on his face had her bottom lifting, eager to feel his conquering bite there now, too. He was so dark and intense, hungry for her, and she was so fixed and focused on being devoured that at first she didn’t realize what he intended when he caught the bottom hem of her tunic and shoved it up past her waist. With a sharp tug, he had it out from under her and had sat up to pull it all the way off her before she suddenly understood what he wanted and came crashing sharply back to herself.
    He had already seen all the bad parts of her in the dungeon bathroom, and yet just that fast the sexiness of the situation died, leaving behind only tides of dread. Sara clamped her arms to her body, locking under her pits and preventing him from stripping it away.
    Jackson butted up against the block of her elbows twice before he stopped, and that split second look of thwarted desire abruptly shifted into something darker. He looked at her, naked, with wanting on his face and the hard, jutting length of his cock standing high against his belly, and right before her eyes she saw it when he suddenly realized she was doing it deliberately.
    She couldn’t hold his gaze. She tightened her arms around her, curling in on herself as that look in his eyes changed, sharpened, hardened. His head tilted warningly to one side. He tried to tug again, but Sara hugged herself and didn’t move.
    “Mm.” It was all he said, but he didn’t move either. Only his head, turning first one way—looking at the headboard of the bed—and then the other—taking calculating stock of the sparse furniture in the room. Finally, he glanced back over his shoulders at the bondage rings that studded the tall bedposts. He looked at his belt hanging up by the door. Eventually, his dark eyes came crawling back to hers, and she shivered at the coldness she saw staring her down.
    Letting go of her tunic, Jackson pulled his pants up, adjusting himself with visible discomfort twice before grabbing a fistful of her hair and dragging her off the side of the bed.  “Get your things,” he ordered, with a not-so-gentle push in the direction of the closet. “Don’t bother dressing. Hurry up. You think you can stop me from taking your tunic off you, just try dragging your feet right now.”
    Sara moved quickly, shakily. She gathered her things, hurriedly stuffing what few things she had already unpacked into the new duffel bag someone—Robert, Jackson, the management? She had no idea—had given her. She glanced back in time to see Jackson irritably adjusting himself behind his fly again. He did not look happy. Not at all.
    He stalked toward her and, hugging her belongings to her chest, Sara backed away. The wall put an abrupt end to her retreat. In the next step, Jackson had her again, by the lobe of her ear this time, a grip that brought her dancing up onto her tiptoes. She hugged her bag even tighter to keep from grabbing at his hand and winced, quickly marching out ahead of him when he pushed her to the door.
    “Where are we going?” she finally worked up the nerve to ask.
    “Where I should have taken you three years ago, before you ever had a chance to run.” Jerking the door open, Jackson shoved her out into the hall. “I’m taking you home.”

     

CHAPTER FIVE
     
    Sara made no protest when he directed her up the stairs, but climbing each step behind her gave him a singular perspective: her ass was amazing. It had always been amazing, frankly, but now it was impossible to take his eyes from. The desire to kiss, suck and bite those wobbly nates watered in his mouth. The need to slap, spank, grip and caress made his hands both itch. Somehow, Jackson managed to keep himself under tight control. All he had to do was wait a few minutes more and then he would have