Not Until You Part VII

by Roni Loren

  He backed me toward the bed, but I put a hand to his chest. “Tried everything to distract yourself or everyone?”

  He growled and lifted me off my feet. “Angel, I haven’t even been able to look at another woman. You think I would fuck someone else, then come looking for you?”

  “Well, I don’t know—” He tossed me onto the bed and I bounced with an oof.

  “You should have more faith in me.” He sat on the edge of the bed and dragged me onto his lap to straddle him. “The only thing that has seen any action is my fist because I couldn’t stop thinking about you, picturing you like this.”

  His mouth closed over one of my nipples and pleasure arced through me. I braced my hands on his shoulders and let my head fall back as I imagined him taking himself in his hand, sliding those long fingers over his cock. Damp heat pressed against my cotton panties as he moved to the other breast.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  He lifted his head, drawing my attention back to him. “What about you? I won’t hold it against you if you did. I’m the one who pushed you away.”

  I frowned. “Wouldn’t hold what against me?”

  “If you slept with the dentist,” he said, his tone belying how totally un-okay with it he’d really be about that.

  I blanched. “God, Foster, no. Tonight was the first time we even kissed.”

  He closed his eyes briefly in a thank-God way, then lifted his lids, his gaze intent. “I wanted to beat the shit out of that guy for even daring to touch you. Took everything I had not to interrupt.”

  “He’s a good guy.” I leaned down and kissed his brow. “But he does nothing for me. You”—I grabbed his wrist and brought his hand downward, slipping his warm fingers inside my shorts and panties—“do this to me just by looking my way.”

  He groaned as his fingers parted my folds and found wet heat. “I love how fucking bold you’re becoming. So sexy and confident.”

  “You make me brave.” I rocked against his hand, the stimulation like sweet fire licking up my body.

  He slipped his fingers from my panties and swiped them over my lips, spreading my own taste there, then took my mouth in another heated kiss. I threaded my fingers in his hair and scooted forward, dragging myself along his erection. Everything inside me was already coiling tight. It’d been so long since I’d touched him. I felt starved—each breath, each touch providing the sweet sustenance I’d been craving.

  He pulled back from the kiss, his eyes almost black in the soft lamplight of the hotel room. “God, I’ve missed you.”

  I brought my hands to his jaw, feeling the stubble beneath my fingertips. “Every night I’d crawl into bed to try to sleep, but then I’d remember this, you, and my body would go so hot.”

  His grip tightened on my thighs. “Did you touch that pretty cunt of yours?”

  “Even when I promised myself I wouldn’t,” I admitted, the old flush of embarrassment still rising to the surface at the confession and his crude words.

  “Mmm,” he said, the sound rumbling through his chest. “And what did you imagine I was doing to you, my angel?”

  I bit my lip but refused to let my bred-in shyness rear its head again. “I imagined rough things, your dominance, you tying me up. My skin would actually tingle when I’d imagine your hand or your flogger coming down on me.”

  The look that crossed his face was almost one of anguish. “Christ, Cela, you’re killing me.”

  ***

  The open honesty on Cela’s face was enough to wring the air from his lungs. All the times they were together, Foster had always wondered if maybe she’d only been going along with things to please him, to be experimental. But to hear that not only had she missed him, but had also fantasized about his binding her and bringing her pain, made his heart want to grow wings and zoom right out of his chest.

  He knew he had to be cautious. She said she didn’t have answers tonight. There was still a very real possibility that she could walk away from him. But if he’d had any doubts whether or not she was truly wired for being submissive, he didn’t now. She craved what he could give her. And God knows, he ached for her.

  He pushed her dark hair away from her face. “Turn around and lie across my lap, angel. I don’t need you imagining anymore.”

  Her eyes went half-mast and she eased off his lap, turning to lay herself prone across his knees. Her muscles were already starting to loosen, her mind sinking into the moment. When he had her in position, he tugged down her shorts and panties, leaving them at her knees. Fuck, she was beautiful—full breasts pressed against his thigh, hair hanging down to brush the floor, and the feminine curve of her back and ass there like a feast for him.

  He rubbed a hand along the globe of one cheek, enjoying the silky-smooth skin, then he raised his hand and gave it a swift smack. She reared up, her breath catching, and his cock pressed against the fly of his jeans. The bright pink, five-fingered image appeared on that golden skin. He’d never be able to describe to her what that did to him, to see his mark on her, to know that she craved both his softness and his sting, but it was almost religious for him. He brought his hand down again on the other side and inhaled her reaction—the soft cry, the scent of her arousal drifting upward, the surrender in her stance.

  “Give me a color, Cela,” he said, rubbing his palm along the place he’d hit.

  “Green,” she whispered, squirming a bit beneath his hold. “So very green.”

  He smiled. How far she’d come. From being embarrassed about the smallest desire to begging to be spanked. He couldn’t ever remember seeing something as sexy as this woman taking ownership of her desires. He spanked her with a little more oomph this time and she quivered against him.

  Confident that she was totally with him now, he worked her over, darkening her ass and the backs of her thighs with a pattern of red marks. Her skin began to glisten with sweat, and her moans turned into breathy, desperate whimpers. He drew his hand down and between her legs, finding her soaked and hot with arousal. “You need to come, angel?”

  “Yes, please, sir,” she said, pushing up on her toes to grind against his fingers.

  He lifted her up and rolled her onto her back on the bed. She looked up at him with glazed eyes, her cheeks flushed. He knelt on the floor and tugged her panties and shorts fully off. “You have my permission.”

  He undid his belt buckle and the fly of his pants, his erection demanding to be freed from its denim prison, and he draped Cela’s legs over his shoulders. The soft, pink folds of her pussy spread before him, swollen and glistening with her arousal, and he had to hold back the groan. He fisted his cock at the base, trying to tame the need building in him. He wanted to take his time and savor this, savor her.

  He dipped forward and laid kisses along her inner thighs, giving her a quick little pop on the hip when she wouldn’t be still. She huffed her frustration, making him smile, but she made a decidedly different noise when he ran his tongue along her center. Her fingers curled into the comforter, and her hips rocked forward. He closed his eyes, relishing her tart taste and the sweet scent of her desire. He loved how shameless she was, arching against his tongue and making all those soft, throaty noises.

  He eased two fingers inside her, the heat of her making his cock throb, and ran the tip of his tongue around her clit before sucking it between his lips. She groaned, and he pumped his fingers inside her, working her with his mouth until he could feel her pussy tightening. He curled his fingers inside her, finding the spot he knew she needed, and a sharp cry broke through the room. She writhed against the bed, and he held her to his mouth with his free arm, helping her ride the intensity when her body’s instinct was to pull away.

  Her strangled cries were like sweet music seeping into his bloodstream, making his body throb in time with her sounds. When he could tell she couldn’t take anymore, he backed off, rubbing his cheek against her
thigh and talking to her in soft tones. “Beautiful, angel.”

  She reached for him, dragging her nails along his scalp and sending hot shivers through him. “I need you, Foster. Please.”

  “Greedy little girl, aren’t you?” he teased, as he pushed himself off the floor, shucking off his clothes and lowering onto the bed.

  Her eyelids fluttered open and she gave him a slow smile. “If I wasn’t high on afterglow, I would totally be offended at that.”

  He grinned as he crawled over her, bracing himself above her. “Then I’ll just keep you in a constant state of arousal so I can say any filthy, offensive thing that comes to mind.”

  She ran her hands along his chest, openly exploring every dip and valley. “That won’t be hard. You seem to have that effect on me.”

  He loved how she touched him so hungrily, like each part of him was a revelation. “Feeling’s mutual, gorgeous.”

  He leaned down to kiss her as he positioned himself at her entrance, no longer in the mood to be patient. The moment he sank into her, all felt right with the world again. His woman wrapped around him, her taste on his lips, and her heartbeat pounding against his chest in time with his.

  No. Not his woman, he corrected. Not yet. But he was going to try his damnedest to make it so.

  Unable to resist, he grabbed her wrists and pinned both of them above her head as he rocked into her. She surrendered willingly, her eyes catching his and holding the gaze as he slid deep. And in that moment, he didn’t need her words to know. He affected her as much as she did him. There was something there that he’d never experienced before with anyone else. Even when he thought he’d been in love with Darcy, he hadn’t felt that rip-through-your-chest-and-tug-out-your-soul feeling like he did when he looked at Cela.

  Cela shifted below him, her eyes blinking closed and a flush creeping over her neck. She was so close again already. The passion in her was right there at the surface, bursting through with almost no coaxing. He could spend forever discovering all the ways to bring her right to the edge of her pleasure and then tormenting her until she came apart beneath him. He reached down with his free hand and grabbed her hip, tilting her upward and moving inside her at the angle he wanted.

  Sweat glazed both their bodies as he relentlessly pumped into her, knowing that his girl responded better to a nice, hard fucking as opposed to slow, sweet lovemaking—the virgin had grown into the vixen. And he couldn’t get enough of her and how ravenous she was for him. It made him feel powerful and wanted. Like a man. Like her man.

  “God, Foster, yes,” she murmured, talking out of her head now, so close to breaking apart.

  He increased his pace, the sound of skin slapping skin mixing in with her throaty whimpers, and all his muscles began to tighten. Her crossed wrists thrashed restlessly beneath his tight hold as she raced up the hill again.

  “Come for me, angel,” he said, his breath sawing out of him now.

  Her head tilted back into the pillows, exposing the long length of her throat, and a low, glorious cry filled the room. He sank forward, going straight for the spot where neck met shoulder, the creamy skin beckoning him, and bit down. Her moan turned guttural, and he released her wrists. Her hands clamped on to his back instantly, her nails digging into his skin, and the nip of pain sent his own orgasm thundering down his spine. Pleasure exploded through him, and he groaned as everything went white behind his eyes, filling her with his release.

  Later. Seconds? Minutes? He didn’t know or care, they both got out of bed and took a long bath together in the hotel’s Jacuzzi tub. Neither of them seemed in the mood to talk, both content to bask in the quiet of each other’s embrace. He knew she had a lot on her mind. So did he. And he wasn’t going to push her for anything more tonight. He’d already gotten way more than he had ever anticipated. The look she’d given him when they’d joined together could keep him surviving on hope for a while longer.

  But when they both climbed under the covers, and he wrapped his arms around her, he couldn’t help but say what had been sitting there on his chest all night. He pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder. “I’m in love with you, Cela.”

  The stiffening of her muscles was slight, but he didn’t miss it.

  And that worried him more than anything had all night.

  Even more than the fact that she didn’t say anything back.

  Read the conclusion of Cela and Foster’s red-hot romance in

  Part VIII of NOT UNTIL YOU

  NOT UNTIL YOU LOVE

  Available from InterMix on July 30, 2013

  Keep reading for a special excerpt from a new novel by Roni Loren

  NEED YOU TONIGHT

  Available March 2014 from Berkley Heat

  Prologue

  Someone’s naked ass is on my imported marble countertops. That was Tessa’s first thought when she walked into her kitchen that warm Tuesday afternoon. Not, Why is Doug home this early? Or, Why does he have his pants around his ankles? And most definitely not Why is my best friend moaning like an injured cat? Nope. Tessa’s brain couldn’t absorb those things just yet. Instead, all she could think about was how there was a butt crack sliding along the spot where she’d chopped strawberries for breakfast.

  The two occupants in the kitchen didn’t even notice they were no longer alone, apparently too caught up in their counter defiling to bother. God, were they that oblivious and swept up in passion? It’s not like she’d been particularly quiet walking in. And she’d slept with the man who’d dropped trou in this little tableau for the last ten years. She knew he didn’t inspire losing yourself to the moment. But maybe he saved his good tricks for Tuesday afternoons when he fucked the woman Tessa would’ve trusted her life with before today.

  Tessa cleared her throat, attempting to draw their attention, but all that greeted her was the sound of Doug telling that lying bitch how hot she was. Rage washed through Tessa in a slow, powerful roll, boiling up and over until she was shaking with it. She calmly set down her purse next to the fruit bowl and wrapped her hand around a large navel orange. Without pausing to reflect, she lifted the fruit and launched it right at her husband’s head.

  It went whizzing past him without notice, sailing into the living room, but she couldn’t stop herself now. She picked up another and hurled it even harder. This one hit him right on the ear with a fat thud.

  “What the fuck?” Doug’s hand went up to his ear, and he swiveled his head her way. “Shit.”

  The traitor on the counter opened her eyes then, her gaze going wide.

  But Tessa kept throwing. Oranges, a grapefruit, apples. It was as if some other force had possessed her. Fruit whizzed across the kitchen, pelting the both of them as they scrambled to get up and pull their clothes around themselves.

  “Ow, Tessa, stop it! What the fuck is wrong with you?” Doug roared as he yanked at his pants with one hand while trying to fend off flying fruit with the other.

  “What is wrong with me? Me?!” Tessa shouted, knowing she sounded like a lunatic but unable to stop herself.

  “Tessa, honey,” Marilyn said, hands out in front of her, blouse still hanging open. “Let’s just calm down, okay?”

  Tessa pinned her former best friend with a glare. “Did you just dare speak to me?”

  “Marilyn, sweetheart,” Doug said softly, putting a hand on her elbow and blocking her from Tessa with his body. “Why don’t you get out of here? I’ll deal with her.”

  Sweetheart? Deal with her? Loud, crashing bells were going off in Tessa’s head. She was glad the knife block was out of reach, because she wasn’t sure she could trust herself in that moment.

  Marilyn nodded after a quick, worried glance at Tessa, then hurried through the living room toward the sliding glass doors that led to the pool area and a backyard exit. Apparently, she knew better than to try to walk by Tessa to get to the front door. Wise move. Because Tessa was read
y to throw down Jerry Springer style.

  With a tired sigh, Doug turned back to Tessa, his fly still unbuttoned and his cock still at half-mast behind the material. The bastard hadn’t even lost his erection. In fact, he looked more annoyed that he’d been interrupted than ashamed of what he’d done. Tessa’s fist balled. “You lying, cheating asshole.”

  He pulled on his dress shirt and looked around the carnage of busted fruit on the floor. “Call the maid and have her come in early to clean this up. It’ll draw ants if it sits too long. I’ve got to get back to work.”

  Tessa blinked, almost too stunned to speak. “That’s what you have to say for yourself?”

  “You don’t want to hear what I have to say.” He adjusted his cuffs like it were any other day of getting ready for work and not like the whole foundation of their marriage had just shattered beneath them.

  “Oh, no. I really do,” she said, seething.

  His mouth curled in condescension. “Fine. You want to hear that I need something on the side? That you don’t satisfy all of my needs?”

  “Your needs?” If she’d had another piece of citrus to throw, she would’ve reached for it then. How many nights had she put all she had into pleasing him even when he hadn’t put half the effort toward her? How many times had she donned expensive lingerie trying to catch his eye? She’d been willing to do anything for him. She’d loved him.

  And he’d been screwing around on her the whole time. With her best friend. The thought almost doubled her over. She reached out and grabbed the edge of the counter.

  “Look, you’re upset. I get it. But Tessa, it’s just sex. I don’t love them, and I’m not going to leave you for any of them. They’re not a threat to you.”

  “You have the nerve to talk to me about love right now?” she asked, her throat trying to close. Them. So it was more than just Marilyn. She wondered if Marilyn knew she was just the tramp in the Tuesday slot on his calendar. “You’re disgusting.”