HeartsAflameCollectionV

by Melissa F. Hart

  The furious thrashing reminded Lylah of piranhas devouring prey, and she could already feel herself getting wet and intensely aroused. Darien, noticing her expression and quickened breath, stood expectantly beside her. Swallowing to ease the dryness in her throat, Lylah watched the synchronous flow of raw, animalistic sex. Male with male, female with female and everything in between played out before her.

  Then her gaze fell on a porcelain-skinned blonde, her spray of platinum hair plastered against her damp back. Sandwiched between two black men, she was simultaneously impaled in the ass and pussy in a violently thrusting double penetration. In the tenuous light, Layla noticed the red hand marks rising from the perfect globes of her heart-shaped ass, her protuberant nipples and full, creamy breasts consumed by the men’s hungry mouths.

  Flailing and clutching the blankets, the girl’s garbled cries ebbed and flowed in time with the others, but were abruptly stopped by the gaping pussy of a stunning black girl about the same age as Lylah. Shaved, the smooth mahogany flesh engorged and gleaming from multiple penetrations, the girl briefly caressed herself before straddling the blonde’s mouth.

  The blonde squirmed, her hands reaching up to clasp the smooth ass grinding against her face. Her tongue worked furiously, licking and sucking the spread lips and swollen clit presented like a succulent dessert. The blonde’s fingers eagerly sought the crack of the black girl’s ass and trailed them down her cleft to tease her tight quivering hole before plunging her fingers deep inside. The black girl cried out, leaned forward and thrust her hips against the blonde’s questing fingers, her swathe of long charcoal hair whipping about her shoulders.

  Entranced by the sinuous movements of the black girl, Lylah suddenly wanted nothing more than to be the mouth beneath her spread thighs. The girl suddenly turned toward her with amber eyes that shone like liquid honey, her wanton expression embracing Lylah with such intensity it was as though as she had physically touched Lylah.

  Lylah gasped. Feeling a resonant ache between her thighs and a rush of sticky wetness against her thong, she realized she had just come. The girl smiled knowingly and abruptly rose from the blonde’s mouth. She walked unabashedly toward Lylah, her lithe body moved with exquisite grace. She paused to stare into Lylah’s eyes, then slowly, deliberately, started unbuttoning Lylah’s blouse. Slipping it from Lylah’s shoulders, she cupped and caressed Lylah’s breasts before leaning down to take one nipple, then the other, into her hot mouth.

  Crying out, Lylah felt a surge of pleasure unlike anything she had experienced with a man. The girl continued trailing her mouth down to the waist of Lylah’s skirt before yanking it to the ground. Lylah felt lightheaded, dizzy and on the verge of collapse. The others on the ground vanished into an indistinct haze, and she barely noticed Darien, now naked, reaching toward the black girl and pushing her to her knees before Lylah.

  Darien leaned toward her and brushed his lips against her ear. “Meet Therese,” he whispered in a voice husky with desire.

  Trembling, Lylah watched Therese rip off her thong and toss it to the ground. Her feverish eyes were matched only by the liquid heat of her mouth. Trailing her tongue along Lylah’s swollen mound, she teased Lylah’s lips with her fingers and the tip of her tongue until Lylah’s pussy opened to her mouth like an exotic flower. When her tongue darted toward her clit, Lylah cried out, her legs buckling beneath her. Therese clasped her tightly and fell with her to the blankets.

  Darien joined them, and together with Therese, enveloped Lylah until they became a single body, a single conduit of electric pleasure. Darien’s eyes bore into Lylah as she lay on the blanket. Straddling her head, he ran his fingers through her tangled hair and guided her mouth onto his massive, engorged cock until his girth filled her throat. Feeling as though she watched herself from a distance, Lylah grabbed his pulsing meat and began furiously sucking.

  She felt rather than saw Therese working her way down her sensitized flesh until she vanished behind Darien’s thrusting body. Each brush of Therese’s lips, each nibble of her teeth sent stabbing jolts of pleasure culminating in Lylah’s core. Therese spread Lylah’s thighs wide apart, her fingers and mouth seeking every moist crevice. Lylah’s head whipped around as she struggled for breath against Darien’s choking cock while Therese’s fingers pumped her pussy.

  Darien uttered a garbled cry as his cock began to violently jerk and jetted a stream of cum down Lylah’s throat. She lapped furiously, her body drenched in sweat as Therese’s relentless fingers finally brought her to a searing climax that erupted in a series of shuddering spasms. From her peripheral vision, Lylah glimpsed the others approaching until their bodies merged with hers. Hands, mouths and cocks explored her, the montage of hot, writhing flesh a sensory experience almost beyond her ability to comprehend.

  The sensations, the unbridled pleasure screaming from every pore pushed her own experiences of self-exploration into the shadows. Now, as she was positioned onto one cock while another slid into her ass spread open by countless hands, Lylah slipped into a realm that transcended her conscious level of awareness. Therese mounted the face of an Asian man beneath Lylah and turned to kiss her and caress her breasts.

  Darien stood between them and offered his still-rigid cock first to Therese to suck, then to Lylah. Finally, their tongues commingled as they trailed them along the length and breadth of Darien’s cock while alternately sucking his pendulous, shaven balls. Almost delirious, her half-closed eyes barely focusing on the shifting bodies around her, Lylah surrendered herself to a night that transformed her so completely that she might as well have been the Phoenix rising from the ashes of her former life.

  ***

  Delylah gasped as Therese’s fingers strayed to the plump folds of her naked pussy. Blinking beneath the pulsing jets of warm water, her hands placed firmly against the shower wall, she turned almost in surprise to face a bemused Therese.

  “I was wondering what it would take to get you back to planet Earth,” Therese said with a soft smile. “Where did you go?”

  Delylah smiled and kissed Therese on the lips. “Just remembering another time and place.”

  Therese lightly smacked Delylah’s ass before turning off the jets. “Well, you can revisit another time. We’ve got to get ready. Did you forget about James Branagh?”

  Not likely. The image of James’ face was branded in Delylah’s mind.

  She and Therese quickly dried off and hurried to the walk-in closet in the dressing area. Delylah slipped into a pair of casual black capris with a cropped peach lace top while Therese wore a pair of faded jeans and a black one-shouldered top. Therese opted for her quick but ever elegant topknot while Delylah blow dried her hair into a mass of finger curls. Both opted for simple but dramatic makeup, and as Delylah sprayed herself with her signature perfume, she realized that she was actually feeling a little nervous about meeting James.

  Delylah smiled at her reflection in the mirror. Now that was a first. It had been a long time since she had felt anxious or uneasy about anything or anyone, but it had also been a long time since she had met someone who had made such a powerful impression on her. She realized that even with constant performances and world travel, her life had still fallen into a measure of a routine. James was a wild card, a challenge that might not so easily be met.

  Almost in response to her thoughts, a discreet knock rose from the door. Therese glanced at Delylah and went to answer it.

  “Hey, Darien,” she said, smiling at Darien, dressed in his signature black, then at the very handsome and more than a little sexy James Branagh, his camera draped around his neck as though it were part of his body.

  “Therese, I’d like you to meet James Branagh,” Darien said.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” James said, shaking Therese’s hand with a strong grip. “I understand you’re Delylah’s right-hand woman?”

  Therese smiled. “Jill of all trades pretty much sums it up,” she said, standing aside. “Please come in, James. Delylah’s very ex
cited to meet you.”

  She glanced at Darien as James stepped into the suite.

  “Call me later,” Darien said, before turning to leave. “We’ve got to go over the schedule for the Canadian tour.”

  Therese nodded and closed the door, following James to a small sitting area adjacent to a wet bar. James stopped in mid-stride when Delylah appeared and stared at her appraisingly.

  “Delylah Fayre,” James said, extending his hand. “I’ve waited a long time to meet you.”

  Snared by his hypnotic blue eyes, Delylah smiled and shook his hand. His touch was electric, almost sizzling, and the connection she felt was instantaneous. It was more than clear that James felt the same, and his smile conveyed the obvious warmth in his eyes.

  “I think I’m the one who should be honored,” Delylah said, motioning him to the soft cream leather couches. “Please sit down.”

  “Would you like some coffee, James?” Therese asked. “Or perhaps something stronger? We have whatever you need.”

  “Coffee would be fine, thank you,” James said. “I think the concert was enough of a stimulant.”

  “I’ll be right back,” Therese said, retreating to the suite’s kitchen.

  Delylah crossed her legs and sat back against the couch. It was unusual for her to feel remotely awkward with anyone, but something about James’ cool, deliberate behavior clearly signaled that he was in charge of the situation. His assessment of her was quite obvious, and she sensed it was more than just professional interest.

  “You should have let us know you were attending the concert,” she said. “We could have provided you with VIP seating.”

  James grinned disarmingly and leaned back against the couch. Delylah couldn’t help but notice the tanned flesh exposed by the unbuttoned top of his shirt and the way his rolled-up shirt sleeves clung to the pleasing contours of his muscular arms. As she glanced at his face, she noticed faint crow’s feet fanning around his hypnotic blue eyes.

  She realized why James had stood out from the crowd. It was not only because of his height, but from a power aura of masculinity she could literally sniff, as though the pheromones literally oozed from his pores. This was no boy hamming it up for juvenile selfies filled with silly expressions and even sillier hand gestures. James was a man far removed from the herd mentality of the men she had become used to.

  “I’m a photographer,” James said, drinking in her features. “Like you, I exist through my art, and I can’t experience a connection with my subject from a private booth or sectioned-off row. If you’ve studied my work, you’ll know that spontaneity is my signature.”

  “That’s an interesting attitude,” Delylah said, wishing she had paid more attention to his work. “But one I can understand. I feed off the energy of my audience. It’s a high unlike anything else, and I feel the music coursing through my body as surely as my blood flows through my veins.”

  Even as she spoke, James raised his camera and began snapping photos. Though Delylah was more than used to being in front of the lens, something about James’ candid snapping felt almost intimate.

  “You get right to it, don’t you?” she said with a smile.

  “Isn’t that what you do?” James asked. “Besides, I came to find out who Delylah Fayre really is.” He paused and lowered the camera. “And right now, I’m looking at her.”

  “Do you like what you see?”

  “I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

  “Interesting,” Delylah said, feeling a peculiar heat infuse her body. “Considering you’ve covered so many other notable people around the world.”

  “I pick my subjects for a reason,” James said, raising the camera once again. “People are always contacting me about photo sessions, but I’m very selective. I have to feel a connection or else it doesn’t work.”

  Delylah stared at the lens, envisioning James’ beautiful blue eye behind it. “What connection do you feel with me?”

  “I feel it on many levels, but on a primitive level, you arouse me. You embody a sensuality that many try to copy but can’t because it’s too forced, too rehearsed. You also celebrate a raw sexuality in a way that few other women can.”

  “It almost sounds as though you’ve been watching me for some time,” Delylah said, growing more intrigued with James by the moment.

  He lowered the camera and smiled. “For quite some time, actually. But I didn’t want to waste time trudging through the channels of your entourage or waste time on meetings and endless talk. I wanted the experience to be, and I stress my keyword … spontaneous. I knew the opportunity would come … sooner or later.”

  “So when would you like to start?” Delylah asked. “I’m taking some time off before I head to Canada on the next leg of my tour.”

  “We can start now, if you like,” James said, glancing at Therese as she returned with a tray of coffee, “perhaps as an ensemble with Therese. I feel the chemistry between you, and I’d love to be able to capture it.”

  Do you like this book? Be sure to check other books in this series

  Delylah Fayre - Part 2

  Delylah Fayre - Part 3

  Delylah Fayre (Trilogy Bundle)

  My Only Safe Place

  Synopsis

  A year after she fled Mads and his war against the angels, Tara is making a life for herself in a large anonymous city. She is finally beginning to believe that there may be some kind of life for herself and her son, Fen, but then everything changes in a single terrible moment, and the war is on her doorstep again.

  Mads has never forgotten Tara, but when he realizes what she has done and who she has hidden from him, can he ever forgive her?

  The library was quiet at night, and that was how Tara liked it best. She finished the shelf reading and turned in the papers to the front desk before taking clocking herself out.

  It was a long walk back to the apartment, and it gave her time to think even as she stretched out legs that were sore from reshelving books and crouching to find missing volumes. She wished she could return to her job at the university, but with the war between the angels and the werewolves reaching a fever pitch, she didn't dare, not when they had found her once.

  It had been a year since she ran from Mads, the alpha werewolf who was cutting a swathe of destruction through the ranks of the angels, using the weapon she had given him. A year had not dulled the sting of his lies or of the fact that at night, when she allowed herself to grieve, she still mourned him, still longed for his arms around her.

  Everything had changed that night in Scotland, and when she had run, with an angel and a mysterious being known as the Three in One as her unlikely allies, she had run hard. The year had been a difficult one, the hardest she had ever known, and her travels had brought her to this large city, where she could disappear into the swell of humanity.

  Her life was dark in some ways. She couldn't let any one get too close, and her ties with her family, tenuous though they had always been, were now cut for good. She flinched from every dark shadow that came at her from above, and some days, she was so angry about what Mads had done that she could have wept.

  Still, opening the door to her fourth-story apartment, she knew that there were things that she wouldn't give up for the world.

  “How was he, today?” she asked, hanging her purse by the door.

  In his angelic form, Lukas was inhumanly beautiful and perfect. When she had told him that there was no place for half-naked men with tall, broad white wings on the run, he had folded himself inward and hidden the wings, though there was no disguising his handsome features or his long, almost completely unblinking gaze. Now he only looked like an amazingly handsome man in his late twenties, with curly hair and piercing gray eyes. He wore the jeans and the T-shirt she had purchased for him, and in his muscled arms, he held a baby that already held Tara's heart in his hands.

  She took him from the angel's arms, and Lukas made a considering noise.

  “He was restless today,” the angel reported.
“Fretful. Usually he sleeps so calmly, but today, it did not matter whether I held him or let him be, or sang. He senses something coming.”

  “Do you, little one?” crooned Tara, taking one of the canisters of her milk from the refrigerator. She set the milk on the stove to warm, and she sat down in the tiny kitchen, rocking him gently.

  The baby opened eyes that were going to be a bright vivid blue, and she touched his petal-soft cheek with one careful finger.

  “Beautiful Fen,” she whispered. “I love you, baby, don't worry about what's coming. I will protect you, Lukas and I both.”

  Despite the fact that he was mostly occupied with childcare and groceries at the moment, Lukas was himself a warrior. Eons ago, he had been the guardian of prophecies, and when the other angels had gone to war with the werewolves, he had stood aside. He was nothing like his scarred and broken brothers, and when she needed him, he had come. He told her that she and Fen were important, but he could not say how, and when she pressed him, he looked so sad that she could not stand to ask further.

  “It will be revealed in time,” was all he would say, and with that she had to be content.

  It was a small life that she had with her baby and her angelic companion. She went to the library to work, she came home, she cuddled her child, and she tried not to think about the child's father. This was far easier than being on the run, especially when she started to show, and she relaxed into the familiarity of her routine as she fed her son the warmed milk.

  Mads, damn you, you should be here, she thought emptily.

  ***

  The hills echoed with howls of victory, and Mads stood up over his band, howling the loudest.