by Jasmine Hill
He turned slowly to face her. “It’s always cold. It’s the stone brick.”
“Perhaps a beach setting would have been more appropriate for a Valentine Gala.” She smiled. “Somewhere where we could take advantage of our summer weather. Where are we, anyway?”
He gave a lopsided smile, but there was something almost sad to the turn of his lips. “We’re high in the mountains. I suspect you haven’t been here before.”
It was an odd response. How does he know where I’ve been? But she didn’t push it as she suspected she wouldn’t get an answer, like the previous times she’d tried to get that information. She supposed they wanted to keep their exact whereabouts a secret, not desiring unwanted visitors in the future. It was rather eccentric but in keeping with the rest of the weekend so far.
With seemingly little effort, he dragged the heavy chesterfield chair toward the fireplace and positioned it in front of the growing flames.
“Come. You’ll be warmer closer to the fire.”
She was cold. The chill in the room was slowly sinking into her bones. She hadn’t packed for a weekend in an ancient mansion in the mountains and her slinky cocktail dress was hardly adequate since they’d left the warmth that a crowd of bodies had provided. She stood, walked toward him and accepted his outstretched hand. When she got close to the chair, he picked her up around the waist in a dazzlingly quick movement and sat with her on his lap.
“Do you always move so quickly?” she gasped, reeling from the change in equilibrium.
He shrugged. “When it suits me to do so.”
She settled back against him, reveling in the feel of his hard chest. He wrapped his arms around her, rubbing his cool palms up and down her biceps.
She turned her head to look at him. “You’re cold. You feel like you need the fire more than me.”
“I’m fine,” he grated against her ear.
She shivered as his breath wafted across her neck. It was one of her sensitive spots and her nipples rose and elongated in response. He must have noticed—he couldn’t miss her reaction when his gaze was focused on her chest. She wasn’t wearing a bra, the low back of her dress making it impossible.
He nibbled her neck, grazing sharp teeth across her sensitive flesh until her nipples extended farther, the nubs stretching and straining against the soft fabric of her dress. She moaned and snuggled closer to him, tipping her head farther to the side to allow him better access. She breathed in deeply, inhaling his spicy, masculine scent. He smelt amazing, woodsy and exotic.
The champagne, combined with the warmth of the fire and Vincent’s teeth and lips on her neck, was lulling her into a relaxed state. Her disquiet about the weekend was a distant memory. She felt at ease and totally secure in Vincent’s arms.
He dropped his head lower, lapping at the base of her throat and the dip in her clavicle. “You taste delicious,” he mumbled against her flesh.
Her heart was beating erratically and her blood roared in her ears.
“I can feel your heart beat,” he murmured, placing his palm on her chest. “Are you nervous or excited?”
“Both, I guess,” she breathed. “You make me feel a little out of control.”
“Good.” He raised his head and licked her thumping pulse point, sending a bolt of pleasure directly to her core.
She gasped and gyrated her hips, suddenly desperate for something more. His touch was like an aphrodisiac. Desire bubbled low in her belly and her sex seeped liquid heat. She dug her nails into his forearm and pushed her ass into his lap. His erection throbbed hot and insistent and huge between them.
Standing, he swung her around to straddle his waist and took her mouth in a bruising kiss. Vaguely she registered that they were moving towards the bed. There came a pause when he pulled the covers down, then he was lowering her to the mattress, his lips still fused to hers. She probed his mouth with her tongue, relishing the spicy taste of him. The cool cotton of the sheets hit her back and he was on top of her. He broke their kiss and urged her arms above her head, then licked down her neck to her breast and tongued the nipple through the fabric of her dress. She whimpered and thrust her breast against his mouth, desperate for more contact, for harder friction.
He ignored her urging and edged his body lower until he was nestled between her thighs, his broad shoulders spreading them wide. He swept her dress up and bunched it around her waist, exposing her black lace panties.
“So beautiful,” he murmured, running his index finger between her pussy lips. The lace abraded her swollen clit and she bucked under the intense tingling. He dipped his head and inhaled deeply. “And so needy. I can smell your arousal. It’s intoxicating.”
She pumped her hips, willing him to touch her again but, deliberately defying her, he resisted. His breath wafted against her sex as he ran his finger around the outside of her panties, barely touching her skin. That electric current assaulted her senses again, as if he had charged fingertips. Goosepimples erupted across her flesh, her nipples extended and desire coiled low and hot in her belly.
“Please,” she whimpered.
He dipped his head closer and ran his nose up and down her cleft, inhaling her scent.
“You’re wet,” he whispered, finding her clit through her panties and pressing the sensitive nub.
She jerked her hips, desperate for more contact.
He swept her panties aside and slid his tongue up her slit, flattening it and lapping at her like she was a fine-tasting wine. Her toes curled and her insides quivered with pleasure. It’d been a long time since she’d been touched so intimately that she was delirious with the need for more. An electric current zapped from her clit to her nipples and she arched her back, pressing her pussy into his mouth, demanding he satisfy her.
He drove his tongue into her channel, circling it and finishing with a flick to her sweet spot. She threw her head back and gripped the bed covers. He knew how to use his tongue. He probed deep, then gave her shallow little jabs before plunging deep again. He thumbed her sweet spot, pressing on the swollen nub in time with his thrusting tongue. It was too much. The pleasure was building, coiling and coalescing deep in her core. She felt the telltale tightening of her inner muscles, recognized the quiver in her lower belly.
“You’re close. I can feel it,” he mumbled into her sex. “I want you to come for me.”
He sucked on her clit and she shattered, the orgasm hitting like a freight train. She arched off the bed, her limbs tight, waves of pleasure pulsating through her. He locked his mouth over her pussy and sucked hard, prolonging her ecstasy until her insides ached from her throbbing climax.
Perspiration dewed her forehead and her heart raced as she worked to control her breathing. At some point she’d held her breath and her lungs labored with the need to draw in oxygen. She’d never experienced an orgasm so intense. It was mind-blowing and she was still fully dressed.
Vincent got to his feet and removed his shirt. He gazed down at Bree, her flushed face and dazed eyes speaking to something visceral in him. The sensation of her coming on his tongue had been exquisite. Her taste clung to him, tangy and ripe and delicious.
She’d finally lost the dazed look and she was watching hungrily as he stripped out of his clothes. He relished the admiration in her gaze. It appealed to his primal side, like a caveman pleasing his woman.
He leaned over the bed, grasped her hands and tugged her into a sitting position. He knelt before her and, grasping each slender calf, he undid the straps around her ankles and slipped off her sandals. Then, seizing the hem of her dress, he swept it up and off her body in one move, leaving her bare but for her panties. He gazed at her, drinking her in. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, her body a work of art that the likes of Michelangelo wouldn’t have been able to recreate. Her pert breasts with rosy pink areolae bobbed in front of his eyes, tantalizing him and enticing him to taste. He leaned forward and sucked her flesh into his mouth, flicking her erect nipple with his tongue.
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sp; She moaned lustily, wrapped her fingers in his hair and pushed her chest forward. He sucked harder and massaged her breast, squeezing and manipulating her flesh as he drew her nipple deeper into his mouth. He growled low in his throat, his blood flowing thick and fast to engorge his cock to painful proportions. He needed to be inside her, but he was big, bigger than average, and he didn’t want to hurt her.
He released her nipple with a pop and got to his feet. Her gaze dropped to his cock and her eyes widened, her mouth forming an O.
“It’s big,” she stated without preamble.
“It is,” he agreed. “Scoot back.”
She scrambled back. “The bedside table. I have protection.”
He hesitated. How could he tell her she didn’t need it? He wouldn’t. He reached over, opened the drawer and withdrew a foil packet.
“Open your legs,” he ordered as he joined her on the bed.
She allowed her legs to flop wide and he climbed between them.
He took her mouth again, sweeping his tongue along her full lips then plunging it deep, kissing her passionately. She relaxed beneath him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her wetness smeared across his thigh and he groaned into her mouth, immersed in their kiss, dipping his tongue to tangle with hers. She gasped and pumped her hips, clutching his hair and fisting it tightly.
He was achingly hard, his balls tight and full. He had to be inside her. He nipped her bottom lip and had to stop himself from breaking the skin, from tasting the very essence of her. He growled and pulled away. Her lips were swollen and red from his harsh treatment of them. He needed a distraction, fast.
Straddling her hips, he straightened, his cock jutting thick and proud to his navel. “Take your hair down,” he instructed. She’d had it up and off her face the entire day and he longed to see it wave around her shoulders.
She delved her hands into the messy top knot and pulled the combs free, allowing the strands to fall loose in silky waves across the pillow.
He toyed with one of the smooth tresses, the golden locks curled around his finger, sparkling in the firelight. “Beautiful,” he murmured.
She bit her bottom lip as her gaze hovered at his crotch. She was nervous. He had to reassure her so she’d relax.
He tore the foil packet open with his teeth and deftly rolled the condom down his length. It wasn’t quite big enough, but it’d do the job.
He settled on top of her, taking his weight on his arms, and seized her mouth again, kissing her slowly. He swept his tongue over her lips, drinking at her leisurely, savoring her champagne-and-cherry taste. She opened to him, her body softening, her thighs relaxing. She gripped his shoulders, digging her small nails into his flesh, the sharp pain instigating a groan from deep in his chest.
“Harder,” he rasped against her lips.
She clawed him fiercely and the pain was a welcome distraction from his raging need. His balls were full to bursting and pulled taut against his body. He gritted his teeth and cast his mind somewhere else. As the pain of her sharp nails seared his consciousness, he started to relax.
He kissed her slowly and deeply, their tongues tangling, their breath mingling.
He swept his palm past her breast, over her flat stomach and the dip in her waist until he reached the sweet spot between her thighs. He stroked the slick lips of her pussy with his forefinger then plunged it deep within her channel. She arched and moaned into his mouth, opening her legs wider and gyrating her hips against him. He slipped another finger into her wet heat, scissoring them, stretching her so she’d accept him.
He drew back from her mouth and dropped his forehead to hers. “You’re so tight.” He thrust his fingers deeper, circling them, relishing the way her pussy sucked him in greedily.
“Please,” she whimpered, grinding her pelvis against his hand. “I want you inside me.”
He kissed her once more then sat back on his heels. Grasping her ass, he pulled her up, suspending her over his hard cock. He gazed into the deep blue of her eyes as he dropped her down, impaling her to the hilt.
She cried out and tried to scramble up, but he wrapped his arms around her waist and shoulders and held her fast. Her pussy gripped him like a vise. The fit was so snug it was almost painful for him. And if it was painful for him, she must feel stuffed to capacity.
“Relax,” he mumbled against her ear. Finally, her muscles loosened. The tight grip on his cock lessened and her pussy gushed liquid heat to aid his entry.
“Wrap your legs around me,” he instructed, gripping her ass harder. She locked her thighs around his waist and he raised her high to the tip of his cock, then dropped her down.
“Fuck!” he barked as he breached her completely. He’d never been so deep within a woman. It felt fucking amazing, intoxicating, to possess her so fully.
She threw her head back on a mangled groan, her arousal flooding between them to lubricate his glide. He set up a punishing rhythm, jerking her up and pulling her down his cock as he pumped his hips. She clung to his hair, gripping it tightly, and bounced up and down his thick length. Perspiration beaded her brow and her hair clung to her face in damp strands. Her cheeks were flushed and her pupils dilated in passion. She was beautiful in her sexual abandon. He pumped harder, bottoming out in her on each upward thrust. She whimpered but showed no hesitation in matching his fervor. She was perfect for him.
He released a butt cheek and pinched her nipple, stretching the taut bud until he felt the tightening of her internal muscles.
She groaned and dropped her head to his shoulder. “I’m going to come.”
He thrust up, jerking her slim body on his cock, manipulating her to meet his needs. “Do it!” He needed her to come, wanted to feel her quiver around him. Lust clawed at the base of his spine and his every nerve vibrated.
She threw her head back, her body tightening like a bow. She clawed at his shoulders and cried out as her pussy spasmed around his cock.
It sent him over the edge, launching him to his own release. He grunted and drilled into her, his vision hazing and pleasure pounding through him. He gripped her shoulders and pumped hard, urging her to milk him dry.
Fuck. He didn’t think he’d ever come so intensely in his life.
Bree was boneless and limp on his lap. He picked her up and laid her gently on the bed. She looked barely conscious and he hoped he hadn’t hurt her.
“Are you okay?” he murmured, smoothing the damp hair at her brow.
“Hmmm. I’m just really tired now.”
“Rest, sweet Bree.” He gazed at her, waiting until her breathing levelled and she drifted off to sleep. The fire warmed the room and cast a red glow that burnished her hair a radiant gold. She looked like an angel. Little did she know that she was in bed with the devil.
Chapter Eight
Bree awoke slowly, taking a moment to recognize where she was. Sunlight filtered faintly into the room, struggling to break through the thick fog that seemed to pervade the place. She stretched, and winced when muscles deep inside protested the movement. She looked to the other side of the bed and was hurt when she found it empty. She smoothed her hand over the sheets. They were cold, telling her that Vincent had left hours ago.
He’d left her a gift, though. A small bunch of apple blossoms sat on the pillow next to her, a note attached to the stem. She sat up and, putting the petals to her nose, inhaled. Their crisp, clean scent was delightful. Less heady and sweetly floral than the fragrance of roses, the perfume of apple blossoms was evocative of orchards and summer. Not for the first time, Bree wondered where they acquired such wonderfully fresh flowers that retained their natural scent. The apple blossoms smelled as if they had flowered that morning with sunshine and bees. Written on the note in flowing cursive was Be my Valentine. And below that, I prefer you above all others.
At least he just hadn’t upped and left without a word. Perhaps he was busy today. Besides, he didn’t owe her anything. It wasn’t like they planned to have breakfast together.
; The antique table clock told her it was nine a.m. She’d slept later than she’d intended, which she put down to the late night and dimness of the daylight filtering through the thick curtains. She slipped out of bed and rummaged through her suitcase for something to wear. Jeans and a light sweater would be appropriate, particularly given the chill of the mansion. She showered and scrubbed her face of residual makeup. She hated going to bed with makeup on, but she hadn’t had an opportunity to remove it the previous evening. She slathered on face cream and patted cooling gel around her eyes. Slipping her room key into her pocket, she went to find something to eat.
Following the sounds of clinking glassware and chatter, she found many of the guests downstairs. Long tables had been erected down the center of the foyer area. Bree gazed down at the spread of food in awe. Pastries and bread rolls that had been twisted and baked into the shape of flowers were piled high on silver trays between platters of exotic fruit, artfully sliced and arranged in the shape of love hearts. A large rectangular dish of various meats took up center stage of the food array, the charcuterie sliced and laid to form a bow and arrow. Cold water and various juices in crystal jugs were interspersed among the food trays and a tea and coffee station was situated at the end of the long tables for guests to help themselves. Bree shook her head, amazed at the work that had gone into making a simple breakfast into such an elaborate ode to Valentine.
She took a plate and selected a wholegrain roll and some fruit and yogurt, hating the fact that she had to interfere with even a small segment of the food art. She poured herself an orange juice then looked around for somewhere to sit.
