Arianna Rose: The Arrival
(Part 4)
A novel
By Jennifer and Christopher Martucci
ARIANNA ROSE: THE ARRIVAL (Part 4)
Published by Jennifer and Christopher Martucci
Copyright © 2013
All rights reserved.
First edition: August 2013
Cover design by Indie Designz http://www.indiedesignz.com
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Arianna Rose: The Arrival
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
The End
Oh, One Last Thing Before You Go...
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are a product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Chapter 1
Music throbbed from mammoth speakers, pounding like a carnal pulse. The dance floor of the dimly lit nightclub was a sea of bodies, sweating and undulating in an erotic wave of limbs and swaying hair. Leaning against the railing of the VIP section of Indulge, Darius had a bird’s-eye view of the entire scene, the very flow of animal lust, of sexuality. He found it impossible to resist the swell of decadence. The rhythmic thumping, the gyrating people, the musky scent of pheromones and alcohol all swirled together to form an intoxicating sensation that pulsated through him like an electric current. He felt himself drawn to it and decided he’d watched long enough. The time had come to get carried away on the current.
Darius descended a lighted staircase and made his way to the dance floor. Lights flickered, bass boomed and bodies, so many bodies, twisted and slunk about with serpentine deliberateness. He swept past countless scantily clad girls writhing in time with the thunderous rumble. Each of them turned to look at him, their eyes roaming, looking him over from head to toe before resting on his face. The attention blazed through his body like fire on fuel, igniting every cell inside him. He had missed being noticed by others, had missed human interaction. The corners of his mouth curved upward into a sly smile and he reveled in the slow burn. He met the stares of some of the girls, much to their delight, and watched as their dancing became more suggestive, more inviting.
Backs arched erotically. Backsides wriggled with wanton abandon. Bosoms bounced sensually. A bevy of beautiful women awaited his selection in an erotic buffet. And Darius fully intended to partake of a sumptuous treat.
He scanned the assortment offered, passing over more bleach-blondes than he could count, until his eyes finally settled on a brunette with generous curves. She was dancing with a friend and had casually glanced at him several times before focusing her attention on her friend so intensely it became obvious she was struggling to ignore him. Of course, no woman could ignore him. His extraordinarily masculine presence was undeniable, unavoidable.
When finally, the voluptuous brunette surrendered to the need to look upon him, he relished in the faint tick between her brows and the slight parting of her lips. She liked what she saw as all women did.
Darius pressed forward, fueled by her reaction. He moved toward her, invading her space. All the while her eyes remained locked on his as if entranced. She continued to sway, her moves slower and more deliberate, as she stroked the satiny lapel of her body-skimming sleeveless dress. He stopped just short of having their chests touch then watched as her breathing hitched almost imperceptibly and her hands stopped moving at his proximity.
He did not say a word at first, just stared into her dark eyes. Images flashed in his mind like an erotic slideshow of sweat-slicked skin, of his steel-cut muscles intertwining with her soft eager limbs, and he knew he had to have her.
“I’m Raven,” she said and interrupted the feast of flesh on flesh flashing in his mind’s eye.
“Raven,” he savored her unique name. His voice rolled from his lungs, deep and gravelly.
She ran her tongue over her plump glossy lips and blinked several times. “Do you have a name?” she purred.
“I do,” he replied and smirked.
“And it is?”
“Darius,” he said as he mimicked her actions. He slowly slid his own tongue over his thick lips, an act that history taught him women could not resist. “My name is Darius.”
Raven nodded approvingly, emanating confidence he knew she wasn’t feeling at the moment. And how could she? He was an intimidating being. Any thinking and feeling human being could sense what he was, knew on a cellular level. Surely, something in her gut screamed at the top of its lungs for her to run.
He lifted his hand and brought it close to her. Her lower lip quivered as he traced his finger along her jaw. “Let’s get out of here,” he said with a nod toward the exit then latched onto her wrist.
His skin touching hers undoubtedly ignited a surge of numbing static throughout her body, grinding every muscle to a halt; all except her heart. He could feel its fitful pounding, could see the wild throb at the side of her neck. Her mind seemed to order her still, but other parts of her clearly protested. Her mouth opened partially, as if she contemplated rejecting his offer. He quirked a brow at her and released her wrist then turned on his heels.
He’d taken exactly three steps away from her when she gripped his arm and turned him.
“Wait! Where are you going?” she said and her voice had pitched up an octave. Darius smiled wickedly. She had dropped the aloof, uninterested pretense so many girls wore like armor. She did not need to pretend with him. He knew she was interested in him and that she did not feel superior to him. She was just as insecure as the rest of them, all of them, dressed flashily and flaunting feigned confidence. Darius knew the game, but never played it.
“I am going to my suite,” he said coolly. He allowed his eyes to drop to her mouth before sliding down her body to her black heels, and then back up over her arms and breasts to her eyes. “You are welcome to join me,” he added then turned and began treading through the dance floor.
He did not need to turn or acknowledge Raven’s calls to know she followed. When she appeared at his side and attempted to clasp his formidable bicep, she panted, “Hey, slow down! These heels are not easy to run in.” She added a half-smile for good measure.
“Very well, then. You chose the pace, for now,” he winked mischievously and offered her his hand. She readily accepted it and interlaced her fingers with his. He ran his thumb over the tender patch of skin between her thumb and index finger and watched in his peripheral vision as tiny beads appeared at the front of her silky dress and she blew a steady breath between pursed lips. She reacted to him so enthusiastically. He knew the evening ahead of them would be entertaining.
He pulled her hand close to him so that a stiff peak rubbed against his arm and led her out of the nightclub.
When he’d ascended a short flight of stairs and found himself in the brighter lobby of the hotel, he felt Raven tense. The lighting was far less forgiving than it had been seconds earlier. Her grip on his hand slackened and he felt her self-confidence unravel with it. They crossed the space and stepped inside a waiting elevator. She’d released his han
d and allowed a considerable gap to form between them. Silence filled that gap. He sensed that she wanted him to say something, but he had not chosen her for conversation.
His gaze glided over her again, hungrily. Heat flushed Raven’s cheeks and the aching nubs reappeared through the thin fabric of her dress. She did not make an effort to cover them. Instead, she awkwardly twisted a lock of her hair around her finger and Darius swore he could hear the pitter-patter of feet running laps in her mind. Logically, he felt certain she knew she should not accompany a strange man to his penthouse, that the warning screaming through her body was justified. But he’d rendered her a ball of hormones where logic had no clout and defied rational thought or a need for self-esteem.
The elevator stopped and the doors opened. He led her into his suite and watched as her eyes grew round at the sight of his not-so-humble home. Black and gray modern furniture, expensive-looking paintings, a large open living room and a flat screen TV the size of most of the apartments in the city greeted her.
“Wow, this place is sweet,” she commented clumsily. “I mean, damn,” she continued her inarticulate ramblings as she rushed to the panoramic floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the city. “What do you do, Darius? You must be a rich businessman.” Her excitement at the assumption that he was wealthy was not lost on him. He was wealthy, but why that excited her remained a mystery, and an annoying one at that.
“Would you like some champagne?” he asked her and tried to redirect her attention.
“Uh-huh,” she answered absently.
Darius felt his temper prickle as she plastered her face to the pane and mumbled incoherently. When he’d selected a sleek silver magnum and two long-stemmed glasses, he brought them to the coffee table and invited Raven to sit with him. She’d kicked off her heels and lost several inches of much-needed height. He watched disappointedly as she lumbered to the couch then plopped down beside him.
“Damn! Is that Dom Perignon White Gold Jeroboam?” she asked and her eyes widened again.
Darius felt his lip snarl involuntarily as he looked from the bottle to her. “Yes, I suppose it is.”
“Damn,” she said again. He wished she’d stop saying ‘damn’ and select another word in the myriad available to her in the English language. “Bottles of this stuff go for, like, three or four hundred dollars.”
Darius shrugged. “I guess. But I am not interested in discussing the cost of champagne at this time.” His eyes danced across her plunging neckline. Her hand went to her chest and traced the satiny lapel. “Tell me about yourself, Raven.” The rich sensuality embedded in his timbre caused goose bumps to arise on her skin.
She took a long drink of her champagne, leaving just a drop behind. He promptly refilled her glass and watched as she repeated the process of swallowing most of it in a single swig.
“I am a bartender at Delight, the club over in Chelsea, and I am taking a few business courses online.” She hooked her shoulders forward as if embarrassed.
He did not see anything to be embarrassed about so he placed a hand on her forearm, touching it so lightly, his fingertips barely grazed her flesh. Raven had been about to raise her glass to her lips but froze and closed her eyes briefly, enjoying the calming swells of energy radiating from him. He watched as tension left her neck and shoulders.
“Who are you, Darius?” she turned to him and asked, her eyes pleading pools of dark water.
“I am exactly what you need,” he replied in a low, hoarse whisper.
Raven paused a moment, held by his arresting stare then puckered her lips seductively. “Yes, yes you are,” she breathed and placed her glass on the coffee table. As she brought her hand back to her body, she arched her back so that the taut buds at the center of each mound strained against the thin fabric of her dress. She skimmed an eager peak with the tips of her fingers, traveling down the length of her torso before resting on her lap. When her hand stopped moving, Darius seized the open invitation.
Within the space of a breath, he caged her with his large body, covering her mouth with his. He swept his hot tongue between her lips, confident that he was sending a delicious current of flutters and tingles straight down the center of her body. She wanted him. He was sure. He sensed each of her cell and nerve endings light up with tension that would not abate until he was inside her. And he would be inside her. But not before her mind was thoroughly scrambled from his electrifying touch.
He flipped her onto her stomach and unzipped her dress. He trailed kisses down her spine, stopping at the small of her back where an ornate tattoo of angel wings had been scrawled. She moaned in pleasure and arched her back, thrusting her ripe, round bottom at him. He lightly nibbled a juicy cheek and heard another sensuous groan escape her lips. He flipped her again so that she lay on her back and kissed her hard, with every ounce of intention he felt to fill her with, his avalanche of lust. He shifted his heavy frame and shaped it to her hungry body. His knees slid between hers and parted her thighs, prodding her with his hardness in a spot that made her sigh passionately. He pumped his tongue, sliding it in and out of her mouth erotically, delving deep.
Fortunately for Raven, his tongue was not the only part of him to delve deep inside her. Other, more intimate parts of him did, as well, many times. Their night of passion was filled with moans and sighs of approval. He’d gifted her with soul-shattering surges of elation that had rocketed through her body, making her call out his name and quiver in ecstasy. The curtains had been left partially open to allow anyone interested in watching their romp unlimited access.
Darkness still dominated when Darius had finished ravishing Raven in ways he was sure she’d never dreamed possible. Now his room glowed with a faint silver hue from neighboring skyscrapers and streetlamps below. His suite, complete with a panoramic window overlooking a shimmering city, was the best the hotel had to offer.
Darius dozed until an elbow prodded his ribs lightly. Raven squealed excitedly. Her voice pierced his ears and jolted him like a defibrillator. She’d propped herself up onto her side and panted. “That was...wow.” He could see that she struggled with thoughts unified enough to form a lucid sentence. Her eyes were unfocused, her face a mask of dopey bliss. “We’re going to have to do that again.”
“I will not be doing that again until I find my wife,” he said bluntly.
Raven’s goofy grin collapsed. Her body sagged then her eyes narrowed. “You’re married!” she huffed and screwed up her features.
“No. But I’d like to be, soon,” Darius admitted. “I have to find her first. I am getting close though.” He smiled.
Raven’s face brightened, her confidence returned. “Oh really,” she crooned. “I didn’t know you were in the market for a wife.”
“Well I am,” he matched her tone.
“Hmm,” she hummed. “That’s a really great line. But see, you don’t need to use lines to get in my pants. You already got in them, and did very, very dirty things.” She smiled as if she’d said something witty or cunning.
Darius mirrored her expression. She touched her index finger to his chin and he allowed his features to smooth. “A girl could get used to waking up here next to you,” she added and made a clucking noise with her tongue.
“Oh you won’t be waking up here ever again,” he said hurriedly. A vindictive smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “You are a worthless whore I used for gratification.”
Raven’s features contorted, transitioning immediately from relaxed and self-assured to horrified. The switch gave Darius a minor burst of adrenaline.
“Fuck you!” Raven spat and sat upright. “Asshole!”
“Shh!” he commanded her and flicked his wrist. Raven swiftly levitated, hovering for a moment before soaring across the room and landing with a thud against the far wall. She yelled and flailed, creating an unacceptably loud commotion that would not go unnoticed by hotel staff. He realized he needed to silence her. He sat upright and shook his head slowly, as if he were a disapproving parent, then
swatted the air before him. “Silence!” he ordered her. Instantly, her ability to produce sound ceased. Her screams were silenced and he was left to look at her expressions of astonishment and despair. He found that to be much more entertaining than what she’d been doing seconds earlier. Now all that remained was for the thrashing to stop. “Be still,” he said calmly. Her limbs were suddenly paralyzed, her arms pinned at her sides while her ankles were crossed neatly. “Much better,” he nodded as she experienced the world’s quietest panic attack. She was terrified, a point that sent a trill of elation down his spine. But it wasn’t enough. He needed more.
He looked closely at her feet and knew exactly what he needed. He pointed to her toes and watched with delight as a small fire began to burn. Raven’s brows gathered and her eyes pleaded as she mouthed for Darius to help her. To her horror, he shook his head slowly, refusing her request. She tipped her chin, turning her eyes skyward, mutely shouting prayers to a deity that would not save her. No one would. He knew it and now she knew it, too. He heard himself laugh out loud, and began to enjoy himself for the first time in as long as he could remember. Every vein in her neck bulged as she strained against his powers to be heard, yet another fruitless exertion he failed to understand but was amused by, nonetheless. She continued with her soundless appeals as the flames grew larger and licked her ankles and calves, proliferating and climbing until they reached her thighs. She looked down in shock as she saw the blaze rage up her body. Her eyes rolled back and her head lolled. For a moment, he worried she would pass out and ruin his fun. But her eyes popped open, tears streaming from both, and his spirits were buoyed anew. He knew she would have cried out in agony if she could have. But he’d denied her that release. She was left to sob and blubber wordlessly.
The fire continued to expand and engulfed her waist, the heat and pain undoubtedly blistering and unbearable. Her torso twitched. Clumps of charred flesh separated from the lower half of her body and fell to the floor below. The smell of smoldering muscle and fat struck him, but it did not burn his nostrils and throat as it would a human being. He found it pleasant, in fact. The smell, added to the silent moans and cries and brightly burning bonfire, combined to form an exhilarating sensory event Darius would remember for years to come.
The Arrival: Arianna Rose, #4 Page 1
