Barenaked Jane. Deanna Lee

Barenaked Jane - Deanna Lee


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to pound harder when he retreated and pushed into me again. I relaxed against him completely. I gasped as he slid deeply into me.

      He stopped and rested his forehead against mine. “Perfect.”

      It was indeed perfect. I wrapped my legs around his waist and threaded my fingers with his when his hands sought mine. “Yes.”

      Mathias moaned against my mouth as we started to move. The thick push of his cock into my body was divine and better than I could’ve hoped for. My fingers tightened in his as our movement became frenzied. I dropped my legs from his waist and braced my feet against the mattress as his body slapped against mine.

      “Damn.” He pressed his mouth against mine briefly and slowed his pace. “Slow down, Jane, I’m not ready for this to end.”

      “I need it hard.” I strained against his body, physically demanding more. “Harder. Fuck me.”

      He released my hands and placed his hands on either side of my head. I moaned against his lips and rubbed one hand over his head to pull him closer still. His tongue slid into my mouth, mimicking the action of his cock until the pleasure of having him inside me was overwhelming. Mathias slid his hand between us and pressed his thumb against my throbbing clit. The pressure of it was enough to rush orgasm to the surface. I stiffened beneath him and came so hard that my vision darkened briefly.

      “Yes.” He kissed my mouth softly as I relaxed beneath him and slid deeply into me and arched against me as he found his own release.

      I clenched my muscles around his cock again and again as he continued to move. Mathias shuddered and buried his face against the side of my neck. Abruptly, he lifted off of me and sat back on his heels. He was still for a few seconds, and then he slid from the bed and disappeared into the bathroom.

      I rolled over onto my stomach and buried my face in the bed. The sun was bright in the window, there was a naked man in my bathroom, and I’d just been fucked nearly stupid. So maybe getting up at the ass-crack of dawn really isn’t such a bad thing.

      A hand drifted up my leg, across my ass, and then upward to trace my spine. He hesitated and then his fingers drifted over the neatly healed scar on my shoulder. I turned my face to look at him as he laid down beside me. His gentle exploration stirred something inside me that I wasn’t really prepared to deal with.

      “I was a cop.”

      “I know.” He touched the scar again. “I looked you up on the Internet when I got home last night.”

      “I’m on the Internet?” I frowned.

      “Well, yeah. I expected to find you listed on the gallery’s Web site. Nice bio there, by the way. I also found some articles about a young patrol cop gunned down on a highway in Savannah.”

      “Did you read the details?”

      “The press painted you as a survivor. A woman too pretty to be a cop who witnessed the murder of her partner and took a bullet herself. One witness said that you pulled your gun and fired within seconds of being shot. You called for help and stayed conscious long enough on the scene to report to your commanding officer, a man who just happened to share your last name.”

      “My brother. Both of my brothers are cops, and my father was also. None of them wanted me in patrol. They thought I’d ride a desk and be safe.”

      “Did you leave police work because of them?”

      “No. For a long time I wasn’t all that sure what had happened that day. It seemed to blur and change every time I thought about it. The nurses and the doctors in the hospital were so careful with me—everyone was careful. It made me crazy at first; I couldn’t figure out why they were all treating me like I was a hero.”

      “Until you saw the news and realized that every news station in the state was running the footage from the camera of your patrol car.”

      I grimaced. “You saw that too?”

      “Yes. The Internet is surprisingly helpful these days.”

      “The Internet is the single biggest threat to privacy in this country.” I cleared my throat. “I just couldn’t be a cop anymore. Not the kind of cop I wanted to be when I’d first joined the force.”

      “I understand.” He touched my hair and sighed. “I think I might have a bit of a crush on you.”

      “Wow.” I rolled over to my back and pursed my lips. “I don’t think that’s ever been said to me.”

      “I don’t believe that.”

      I turned and looked at him. “Why not?”

      “You didn’t have a ton of little boys in junior high sending you notes telling you how pretty you were and to check yes if you liked them back?”

      “No. I was too much of a tomboy in school to get those kinds of notes. My father raised me and my brothers basically on his own, so I didn’t have much of a female influence until I went to college.” Thinking about my father hurt, so after a few seconds I pushed all of that back and smiled. “After college, I dedicated myself to my career.”

      “Why did you become a police officer?”

      “I liked order and justice. I wanted to contribute to society in a meaningful way, and I thought a badge was the way to do it.” And giving up that badge had been extraordinarily hard. Talking about my past was unsettling, but I felt compelled to answer his questions honestly.

      “You don’t like talking about this.”

      “Why do you say that?” I looked at him and saw the shrewd amusement in his eyes. “Okay, fine, I don’t.”

      He reached out for me and pulled me close with an easy strength that caused excitement and concern. In the back of my mind, I couldn’t help but remember the first time we’d touched—just hours before. His hands hard on my arms, pressing me into the floor. Those same hands that now trailed gently down my back as he shifted me completely on top of him.

      “I scared you last night.” Mathias pushed his fingers into my hair and met my gaze without hesitation. “I regret that a lot.”

      “You said you’d been watching the gallery for a week.”

      “I got there late last night, long after closing, and your car wasn’t in the parking lot.”

      I sat up and snuggled my ass against his groin. The rapidly hardening flesh I found there was not a disappointment. “You watched me all week.”

      “You’re the last to leave.” He slid his hands up my legs to my waist and then upward over my rib cage. “So, yes, I watched you all week. Your routine was just as important as the guard’s. A body in the building can trip the alarm, which would throw off the results of my endeavor.”

      I tried to think back if there had been days when I’d looked like crap but couldn’t remember. I normally have at least one day during the week when my hair won’t do what I say or I run my pantyhose before I even get in the building. It never failed.

      “Were you really going to take something from the gallery?”

      “I had permission from Mercy to remove a small painting from Level 1 in the north wing. I even brought a case for it so I’d be able to transport it safely.”

      “Very forward thinking of you.”

      “I’m a planner.” He sat up and pressed me against his chest. “I didn’t plan on you.”

      “Then or now?” I asked softly as his hands trailed down my back. The soft fleeting touch on skin that I never knew could be so sensitive made my breath catch briefly.

      “Either, both. To be truthful, I don’t think I could’ve planned enough for you.”

      I wrapped my arms around his neck as he pulled me closer and tried to remember that it was just sex. Emotionless sex. That’s all it could be. I didn’t


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