Corrupted--A Scorching Hot Romance

by Cathryn Fox

  “Cason,” I murmur into his mouth, a new kind of desperation gripping me as his fevered kisses steal the breath from my lungs. But I don’t care. I don’t want to breathe. All I want to do is feel this man’s mouth on mine, his hands on my body. Frantic, I claw at him and his big palms slide down my arms, grip my hips and effortlessly move me around like I weigh nothing. He shifts me, until I’m pressed against the kitchen wall. Holy Hell, this is the kind of sex a girl can only dream about. Well, the kind I’ve dreamed about, anyway.

  He breaks the kiss, and I gulp for breath as his teeth skim my lower lip. A second later he buries his face in my neck. He nips at me, scrapes the coarse edges of his teeth over my skin and I’m pretty damn sure I’ve died and gone to heaven. Sex has only ever been vanilla, a mundane task that left me unfulfilled, and there is no denying I want this dirty, delicious, up-against-the-wall, no-holds-barred sex with this man—and none other.

  Wild and demanding, deft fingers grip the hem of my cotton T-shirt and peel it over my head. His nostrils flare as he stares at my breasts, and my nipples swell under his heated examination. His gaze slides over my body like a hot caress, and as he lavishes me with his undivided attention, I squirm against the wall.

  “You are so beautiful, Londyn.”

  My heart skips one beat, then another as his pupils dilate, pleasure evident in his expression. “Please,” I say, even though I’m not sure what I’m begging for.

  “These,” he says, and runs his palm along the swell of my breast. “I dreamed about having these in my mouth all night.”

  A surge of pleasure shoots through me, and taking ownership of my desires, I cup my breasts and rub my thumbs over my nipples. As he watches, transfixed, I squeeze the undersides, offering my aching buds up to him. He steps back for a second, studies me too closely, too intently. My pulse jumps. This man is going to eat me alive. I’m about to let my hands drop when he gives a slow shake of his head, and a little thrill goes through me. I glance down, take in his thickening cock. He wants this as much as I do, and I’m finally going to have what should have happened years ago.

  I briefly shut my eyes, and turn my head from side to side. My long mess of hair tickles my bare flesh and I quiver. My eyes fly open as his deep, appreciative growl cuts the silence in the room.

  “Last night when I crawled in with you, I wanted my cock right here.” He cups my hot sex through my shorts and gives a little squeeze.

  “I wanted that, too,” I say. I wanted that from the first time I met him.

  “I wanted to fuck you until sunup, a week from tomorrow,” he says, and I quake. Violently.

  “Cason...”

  “I can’t give you more than that, Londyn.” His eyes go dark, lock on mine, and I gasp at the frighteningly intense way he’s staring at me. “I won’t.” I gulp and he goes quiet, waiting for a response.

  He’s protecting his heart. I get it. I should be protecting mine, too. “I don’t want more,” I say, as his cold, foreboding words echo in my brain. “I can only give you my body. Nothing else.” I grip a fistful of his hair, urging his mouth back to mine, and as he tears his gaze away, I’m not entirely sure that we’re on the same page or that I’m being honest with him or myself. But I appreciate him laying out the ground rules for this affair, and plan to follow them.

  He kisses my neck, licks my skin, his heavy-lidded eyes skimming my face before his mouth once again claims mine. He grips the band of my pajama shorts and I expect him to slide them down my legs. Instead, he dips a finger inside, and slowly inches me open.

  “Shit,” he curses under his breath as he releases my mouth and runs the rough pad of his finger along me. He finds my clit, circles it cruelly, coming close but never touching, and I gyrate forward, trying to force him to center his touch. His dark chuckle curls around me and I take a shaky breath.

  “Cason,” I murmur.

  He puts his mouth next to my ear and the heat of his mouth takes me even higher. “You need something, Londyn?”

  “Yes,” I say and sag against the wall.

  “Might this be it?” he asks, and finally applies pressure to my aching nub. A moan rumbles in my throat as his wet fingers deftly swirl, creating heat and friction that rocks me to my core.

  “Oh, God, yes. It’s exactly what I need.” He groans and pushes himself against me, and I gyrate my body to massage his erection. His hips flex, power forward, and I love the needy growl that follows my teasing movements.

  “I need something, too,” he murmurs into my ear, his breathing harsh and labored.

  “I can tell,” I respond playfully and rub him a little more.

  “Do you have any idea what I want to do to you right now?” he asks and looks me over, like he’s gauging my reaction. I get the strangest sense that he could be a little afraid of what he needs. That he might lose control. I’ve never had a man lose it with me before, and the idea of it happening with Cason, a man I’ve never stopped thinking about, fills me with a kind of excitement I wish I didn’t feel.

  “What...what do you need?” I ask, wanting everything with him, even if it means emotional suicide.

  He slides a finger into my heat. “I need you bent over the island, until you’re wide open for me.”

  I gulp, as his dirty words and invading finger bring on a shudder. He changes the pace, running his thumb over my clit a bit faster, sweeping side to side until I’m damn near delirious.

  “That feels so good,” I whimper.

  “Yeah, you feel good. So wet and ready for me.” His hands shift and I almost cry at the loss of his touch but it turns to a moan as he dips a second thick finger inside, penetrating deeply as he uses the heel of his hand to massage my clit. Blood pumps through my veins double time, and sensations center on my core as an orgasm takes shape. I can’t believe he’s taking me to the edge so fast. Then again, it’s been so long since I’ve been touched, and no man has ever quite touched me the way Cason is right now.

  “Not yet,” he says and pulls his hands from my shorts, leaving me hot and achy. God, is this some kind of cruel revenge? Take me to the edge and leave me hanging. Punishment for the way I wronged him.

  “Cason,” I cry out, about to touch myself and finish this before I’m nothing more than a quivering mass of need on his kitchen floor. His lips twist knowingly, as I imagine the worst.

  “The first time you come with me, I want it to be with my tongue so I can taste you,” he says, and I nearly sink to the floor, elated. He pushes against my shoulders, anchors me to the wall. His firm touch stabilizes me and my knees stop quivering.

  “You good, Londyn?” he asks, his voice changing, becoming deadly serious with worry, and my heart leaps, loving the way he’s checking in on me.

  “I will be,” I say, trying to get my shorts off to give him better access. He laughs and shoves my hands away.

  “You don’t get to touch. Only I do,” he says and flattens my palms against the wall. “Keep them there. Your orgasms are mine.” His chin lowers and our eyes meet as he grips my shorts and peels them down my legs. Far too slowly for my liking. His breath is hot on my flesh, and goose bumps break out on my skin. I try to buck forward, try to hurry him. “Such a needy girl,” he whispers.

  “Cason.”

  I lift one leg and then the other. He tosses my shorts away, and goes back on his heels just to stare at me.

  “You have the prettiest pussy,” he says and pets me gently. I nearly freaking come. I catch the heat in his gaze, the way his eyes are worshipping me. While no man has ever looked at me with such need, I can’t take another second of this torture. I’ve waited, wanted him for too long.

  “Please touch me,” I cry out.

  He parts me with strong fingers, and taunts my sex. I roll my hips, a low moan rumbling from the depths of my throat. God, yes.

  “Don’t move,” he says, and I go perfectly still, not w
anting to do or say anything that will prolong this seduction. I suck in a breath and let it out ever so slowly when he leans into me, sweeping his tongue over my swollen clit, with slow leisurely strokes that heat me to the boiling point. Holy God. I grip the wall, to hold on.

  His tongue lazily laps at me, and I want to move, want to shove myself onto his face, grind against him, hard, force his mouth to ravage me, but I don’t do any of that. Instead I stay still, giving him the control, and I have to say, remaining motionless comes with its own twisted pleasure.

  He finally, finally buries his face between my legs, eats at me like a man starved, and his finger thrusts inside, faster and faster as he changes the tempo and pressure, his tongue plundering, taking everything it wants, until I sink into a haze of sensations. My breathing grows rough, and I gulp for air as he drives into me with filthy, blunt strokes that shut down my mind. Tension builds inside me, and I cry out his name, needing release before I shatter into a million broken pieces. My skin grows taught, and I whimper as a powerful orgasm tears through me.

  Dizzy and gasping, I feel my hot release drip down my thighs, and he slows the pace, removing his mouth from my clit as I ride out the waves. He takes my hands from the wall and puts them on his shoulders. I squeeze, and work to ground myself as I slowly come back down from that high.

  My God, is this what I’ve been missing out on?

  He stays between my legs, pressing soft, openmouthed kisses to my pussy, and I struggle really hard to keep myself together, in more ways than one. He slides up my body, his cock pressing against me, and my mouth waters for a taste but he seems to have other ideas. He steps back and I ache at the loss of his heat. But it’s short-lived. Two seconds later, he has me bent over the kitchen island, and the hiss of his zipper as he releases his pants sends shivers of anticipation down my spine. My entire body quakes.

  I try to look over my shoulder but he puts his hand on my back, and presses my swollen breasts against the cold marble. It does little to push back the heat building inside me. He jerks forward, shoves his hard length against my ass, and I wiggle. That movement gets me a small slap on my backside. I yelp, but it’s from pleasure not pain.

  “Such a tease,” he says, leaning over me to whisper in my ear. His heat trickles through my blood, and my breathing grows shallow. I catch his scent, breathe it in and lose myself in it as it swirls around me.

  Strong fingers grip both ass cheeks, and squeeze. I’m sure I’ll have little finger bruises come tonight, but I love that he’s a little bit rough and wild, and those marks will be a reminder of this moment. My belly draws in tight as he pulls on my cheeks until my sex is wide-open and wet for him.

  “Shit,” he curses, and his hands clamp tight as he nudges my feet a little farther apart, spreading me more. His erection is now between my thighs, pushing, and probing, big and needy, but then he’s gone. I wait a second, but it feels more like an hour. When he doesn’t rush back, I’m about to turn, to get down on my knees and beg him to finish, when I hear the foil crinkling. I nearly cry out with relief.

  Once sheathed, he reaches around my body, and pinches my clit with slick fingers as he positions himself at my opening. He pulls in a deep breath, and then another, like he’s a sprinter about to run the race of a lifetime, one he’s been training for since childhood.

  I know the feeling.

  He pushes into me, offering me one sweet inch after another and I claw at the counter as he stretches me open. “More,” I cry out, and his hips power forward. He grunts, and holds my hips for leverage as he seats himself high inside me, filling me completely.

  My heart pounds against my ribs as he buries himself so deeply, I’m sure he’s going to ruin me for any other man. But I don’t care. Right now, all that matters in this moment is that Cason is inside me, and how incredible that feels.

  “You good, Londyn?” he asks, his rough voice rumbling through me as he strokes a finger down my spine. A quiver rushes through my entire body and he groans as the movement squeezes his cock.

  “Yes,” I lie, fearing I’ll never be good again. “You?”

  “You feel so fucking good,” he growls and pulls almost all the way out. I whimper as the heated friction hijacks my ability to think with clarity. He drives back in again, and I lift my ass, my sex growing wetter and wetter as my peaked nipples nearly score the marble countertop.

  His lust-saturated groan curls through me, and he moves with steady thrusts. He cups my ass, kneads my flesh and pounds into me. His length teases me as his girth stretches me in the most delicious ways, and the second he reaches around my body and races a finger over my clit, another climax takes hold. I’ve never climaxed twice. Never. Not even with Mr. Right, the battery-operated toy that hangs out in my nightstand. Why the hell is sex so good with him?

  “Oh, my God, yes,” I cry out.

  He presses hot kisses to my back, the moisture on our bodies sealing us together as he drives harder, his movements frenzied as he chases his own pleasure. I rock against him, meet each speeding thrust as he sinks into me, and my hot wet sex muscles clench around him until his control is a thing of the past.

  “Londyn,” he growls, and hearing my name on his tongue as he lets go does the stupidest things to my heart. He groans as he depletes himself and I grip the counter harder, doing my best to hang on—to my sanity.

  My God, that was the most erotic experience of my life.

  Sated and spent, he falls over me, his lips warm on my back as he silently peppers me with lazy kisses. His soft touch creates a new kind of need in me. One I’m not about to explore. A long time later, he lifts me from the counter, and wraps his arms around my waist. With his chest against my back, he just holds me, his forehead pressed to my shoulder and we breathe together. My mind trips back to last night, to when he crawled in bed with me, holding me just like this until I fell asleep. He may be a hard son of a bitch on the outside—but there is a warmth and kindness in him he can’t hide from me, no matter how hard he’s trying. But I’m here to get my heart back from him, not let him get a tighter hold on it, right?

  I touch his hand, pull one away from my body and peel his fingers open to expose his palm.

  “Looking for something?” he asks.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Cason

  I PACE AROUND my office, and try to concentrate on work, but I can’t take my mind off Londyn. I’ve had sex before, plenty of times, but holy shit, it’s never been that good...that right. I can still taste her sweetness on my tongue, still feel the clench of her sex around me as she tumbled into orgasm. My only regret is that she was face down. Next time, I want to see her eyes, want to watch the ecstasy spread across her face, and know I’m the guy who put it there.

  Next time?

  Shit, there shouldn’t even have been a first time but when it comes to her, I’m so goddamn weak I have zero restraint. But hey, at least we both made it clear this was sex and sex only. No misunderstandings. No expectation. No future.

  No mistakes.

  I sit back at my desk and answer a few emails, but don’t have to look up to know Londyn is standing in my doorway. I can feel her eyes on me, smell her sweet citrusy scent as it fills the room and teases me until I’m thickening in my damn pants.

  She knocks gently on the doorframe and I glance up. My God, she is beautiful. My pulse beats a little faster as my gaze moves over her face, taking note of her cheeks, which are still a bit red and abraded from the bristles on my face. I scrub my chin, and make a mental note to shave as my mind revisits that incredible round of sex in my kitchen. After I had my way with her on the island, I cooked us breakfast and we both showered, in separate rooms. While things weren’t awkward between us—being inside her created a new kind of intimacy I’d rather avoid—we went our separate ways. But there is no avoiding her now, and I have to figure out a game plan for the next two weeks. I mean, we can’t just have sex all the
time.

  Why the hell not?

  “Sorry to interrupt,” she says.

  I wave my hand for her to come in, and my gaze moves over her tight curve-hugging jeans and white blouse I’d like to remove from her body—with my teeth. Lust saturates my brain, flooding my veins with need. But is that all this is? Lust? Lust I can live with. Love, however. There is no place for that here.

  “What’s up?” I ask.

  “Well,” she begins as she settles herself in the chair across from me, and primly folds her hands. I almost laugh at the reserved position. While she might come across as proper, this pampered little rich girl has a very sensuous side of her. One I like very much.

  Another thing I really like is her fierce determination. Back in college she was a hard worker. Yeah, sure I might call her a spoiled rich girl now, but those words come from a place of anger and betrayal. What I can’t take away from her is her drive and dedication. She’s a woman who isn’t at all afraid of backbreaking work, and I admired the hell out of her for it.

  She glances past my shoulders to the sea below. “I didn’t want to go into your bedroom without permission, but you did mention you had some pants you needed me to press.”

  I laugh, and shake my head. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I want to,” she says quickly. “I’m here for you, Cason.” She draws her bottom lip into her mouth and once again all I can think about is nibbling on her. “Being here is way better than being in New York, and you bought me, so whatever you need.”

  “I don’t need anything,” I say.

  She takes a deep, fortifying breath. “Then what do you want with me?”

  Since I don’t really know the answer to that, I stare at her long and hard, and try to piece the puzzle together. “Why were you really on that stage?” I ask.