It’s a welcome distraction.
With his hands on my ass, I feel his hardness pressing into my belly, and I want to feel more. I want to feel his skin on mine, his cock pressed to the sensitive vee between my thighs. I want to feel everything.
His lips leave mine to sample my chin, the line of my jaw, the curve of my cheek and ear. Every spot he touches is warm, tingling, a pressure point of pleasure even as the rough stubble of his cheeks burns against my skin.
As he gently takes the skin below my ear between his teeth, I have to tell him the truth. My hips tilt into him as I sling to his shoulders like he’s the only safe place on a rough sea.
“I touched myself last night,” I whisper, my words sounding naughty to the extreme. My heart thunders in my chest and I struggle to draw in a deep breath. “I was imagining you.” I want to tell him what I was imagining him doing.
“I know.”
Those two words from his lips send my whole body into state of total shock. Nerve endings blaze white-hot and a combustion of icy fire in my chest leaves me feeling like I’m both on fire and frozen all at once.
His lips leave my skin and his teeth scrape the damp skin. A shiver rolls through me and I feel his thigh part my legs. His hands pull me forward a bit and the pressure focused on my clit forces a gasp out of me. It’s pleasure, exciting and so damn naughty I can hardly breathe.
He’s treating me like a woman, not some delicate damned terrified virgin.
“Did you watch?” I ask, feeling deliciously wicked that he’d seen me touching myself. Did he touch himself too?
“No.” He’s gruff, all power and spice, and I want every bit of him. The rich, earthy scent of his skin, the heat of his cologne, the freshness of his laundry detergent… it’s all mouthwateringly him.
“I wish you had,” I whisper, meaning every word. Hell, I wish he’d have joined.
“What did you want me to do to you?” he asks, and everything in me cries out. His lips tease the sensitive skin of the lobe of my ear and I tremble as my belly coils tight.
“I wanted you to taste my pussy,” I whisper, not a shy bone in my body. And I feel him stiffen. His cock pulses against my belly and I realize he’s turned on by the idea of licking me. “I want to feel your tongue on me, your lips; I want to come while you touch me.”
Suddenly, he moves me back. I cry out as the world shifts and I find myself on my back on the bed. Out of the skylight, I see a beautiful blue sky, but I’m much more interested in Dakin. Lifting my head, I see him drop to his knees at the end of the bed.
His hands grab my ass and suddenly, I know.
He hauls me closer and his lips touch the skin just above my pubic bone. The contact is warm, soft, and wonderful.
I melt as he kisses closer to the heart of me. But I’m not going to sit idly by. I reach down and part the skin to show him the part I really want his lips on: my clit. With a quiet growl, he’s on me, his lips sealing around my clit as he sucks it gently into his mouth.
The world combusts in pleasure and sensation. My head falls back and my body goes limp.
“Just like that,” I whisper, needing him to know how he’s destroying me.
An agreeable hum emanates from him and the vibration makes my belly jolt in pleasure and surprise.
“Oh my god,” I whisper, the three words becoming one as my hands find the sides of his head and hold him captive. His tongue teases the bundle of nerves and I feel faint.
“That’s so good,” I tell him as his tongue tastes and teases. It’s better than I thought it would be, and part of me is still in shocked denial that Dakin Dark is going down on me right now.
Again, he hums a positive response and the sensation sends shockwaves of pleasure bolting through every inch of my body. It’s impossible, incredibly sexy, too much to even put words to. But my body has its own response and I’m there at the edge of undeniable pleasure. I’m teetering on the edge of everything Dakin is doing to me.
“I’m so close,” I whimper as my hips struggle to buck up into him. But he’s holding me hostage and I feel him easing off just a bit, as if to torture.
“Please, please, please,” I pant, needing him to finish me. The tightness in my belly is almost too much to stand, and I want more.
A haze of desperation settles in on my senses and I hold his head, my hips still struggling to force him to let me come. But he’s holding firm, drawing out the torture, and it only increases the need I feel.
Suddenly, everything implodes and I hear the whimper leave my lips like I’m dying. And maybe I am. Or part of me is. The part of me who’d never felt this before, who’d never been brought to orgasm by someone else.
My pussy clenches so hard it hurts and his tongue eases up and he hums like he’s talking me down from a ledge. The ripples of pleasure steal the air from my lungs and I’m all volume and mews of pleasure as my body struggles to take in all the excitement.
It’s more intense than any orgasm I’ve given myself, and it’s stronger than I’d ever thought possible. And at the heart of it all: Dakin.
His blue eyes meet mine and the whole world stops.
Chapter Eighteen
Dakin
Fuck, she’s sexy as hell when she comes.
Reality crashes down as the pleasure in her eyes begins to fade and she drops back to melt into the bed.
Fuck.
I shouldn’t have done that.
Damn it.
I back off, struggling at the very real – and intense – need pulsing though me. But she’s not done with me. She lifts her head, her sexy eyes dreamy as she opens her arms to me.
“Come here,” she says, a new warmth in her voice.
And I do. I crawl onto the bed and let her pull me in close. Her lips meet mine despite her wet clinging to my chin and her tongue lazily meets mine.
“I want you,” she whispers when I don’t respond to her kiss. Her eyes open and meet mine, and I’m startled by the depth of heat I see there. And when her tongue flicks out and touches my lip, I feel a sudden heat in my gut. Fuck, I want her too. But I know who I am. What I am. I don’t want to hurt her.
“I use women, Camille.” My words are harsh. I need to put distance between us. And fast. I know the look in her eyes. She’s willing to forgive me for any wrong I might commit. Or might have already committed. Like invading her personal life. Like controlling a situation to get the outcome I wanted.
Her eyes narrow, as if she’s trying to figure out why I’m telling her this. “Nobody is perfect, Dakin.” Her words are sweet, her tone clear and gentle. Forgiving.
“I’ll only use you too,” I say, but she shakes her head.
“You can’t use the willing,” she teases, her voice lighthearted as she continues to stare me directly in the eyes. “Why are you doing this?” she asks, her brows meeting over a wrinkle in her forehead. I want to kiss the spot, but I resist the urge.
But I know what I’m doing. I’m pushing her away. I’m helping her. I’m saving her from the monster I really am. I have to protect her from myself.
No matter how much I’ll hate myself for it later.
“Women don’t stay the night,” I say, and there’s flash of hurt in her eyes. “The only reason you did was because I didn’t want to be responsible for a drunk minor.”
“I’m not a minor,” she says, her expression suddenly more wary. Good. She’s starting to be on edge. That’s what I needed.
And I ignore her response. “I had someone ready to follow you if you left today.” It sounds like a threat, and I know my true intentions are in there, but maybe she won’t see them. Maybe she’ll see me for the creep others have thought me to be.
“Why?” The simple question breaks my heart. She wants to believe I’m a good person. She wants me to be the good guy in this story. But for her sake, I can’t be.
“I don’t respect boundaries,” I tell her. It’s true. I’m not a good guy for her. And sure, I’ll admit I’m scared. I don’t want the
responsibly of the pain she’s going to feel when she realizes that I’ve betrayed her. I want her to be on guard against me.
“Some boundaries are stupid,” she says, still trying in vain to talk around me. But she’s chipping around the edges.
“I don’t give a fuck if what I’m doing is okay or not.” That’s it. That’s the whole root of the issue. I’m selfish. I don’t give a fuck how other people feel. I don’t care if people get hurt. I just need to be able to sleep at the end of the night.
And I generally do.
The girls I sleep with know what they’re getting into, who I am. I don’t lie or trick them. But Camille, she’s different. She’s vulnerable. She’s a virgin who doesn’t understand that the first time will have an effect on her psyche. And I can’t be the one who she attaches to because of it.
“Bullshit.” Her word is soft, yet there’s steel behind it. “If that was true,” she says, her eyes slashing back and forth between mine, “you’d have fucked me last night.”
“I wasn’t interested,” I growl, and instantly the hurt in her eyes sends agony like a bullet through my heart. “You were drunk and disgusting.”
Her lips part a little and shock crosses those beautiful features. But the shock totally gives way to hurt.
“You’re lying,” she whispers, but I shake my head. There’s no going back. I’m going to push her away and I’m going to make sure she won’t come back.
Still, the hurt clears and her fingers reach out to touch my cheek. “You’re not a monster,” she says, her tone full of wonder as if she’s realizing it for the first time herself. “But you’ve done a great job of convincing people.” Her eyes meet mine and her lips take on a little pout.
But she’s wrong. Just because she’s seen a different side of me than other people have doesn’t mean she’s totally right. Just because I’m not the same with her doesn’t change who I really am at my core.
She lifts her head and her lips touch mine. The kiss is tender, sweet, and as much as I want to push her away, I just can’t bring myself to do it. With every touch she’s undoing knots I’ve tied for many years. She’s refusing to believe me; to listen to the things she doesn’t want to hear.
I push her away, but she’s playful and tries to come back up even as I keep my hand on her chest and hold her down. “You’re wrong about me,” I tell her, studying her eyes as the humor leaves them.
And as she struggles, I see her hope beginning to fade a bit too. I let her go and stand up, needing to put some distance between us.
Chapter Nineteen
Camille
Dakin holding me down was the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced in my life, but while he’s over there across the room like I’m some mutant he needs to be far away from, there’s still an undeniable draw between us.
Something between us crackles and pops, and I’m not about to ignore it.
“You said you had someone ready to follow me,” I say, seeing how he’s staring me down. “Was it because you knew that Jackson was out there?” I mean, come on. He’s doing it to protect me. How can he try to use it as a reason he’s a bad guy?
It’s even clear that he’d keep it from me to keep me from stressing out about all if it.
And, when he doesn’t respond, I suddenly get it. He’s not pushing me away just for the sake of it, he feels guilty. I get to my feet and walk over to him with all the composure I can muster. He stays frozen in place and I pull him into a hug.
“I wish you’d trusted me enough to tell me,” I whisper, needing him to know I’m not blaming him. I’m not even mad. I wish he’d handle this with more grace, but I get that he’s human too. He’s allowed to screw up. “But I understand why you didn’t.”
He didn’t do it to hurt me. He did it out of a twisted idea of protecting me. As for the rest of his need to push me away, I assume it’s all part of the same issue. He wants to push me away. Likely to protect me.
But I’m a big girl; I can protect myself.
As I rise up on tiptoe, I kiss his cheek and wrap my arms around his neck. He’s all sinew and steel, unyielding, but I know he’s softening even as I expect him to close up. “It’s okay,” I tell him, but he pushes me away.
“I don’t want this,” he says simply, and I sense he’s telling me the whole truth now.
“Don’t want what?” I ask, curious about what’s going through his mind. What isn’t he telling me?
There’s ice in his blue eyes as he fixes me with that serious stare once more. “You.”
It stings and I falter back a step like he’d shot me through the heart. Everything in me screams that it’s a lie, that he’s just pushing me away. Maybe what I feel between us is what he feels too. Maybe it’s scary for him. I know it is for me.
But how far should I push? How much do I demand he tell me the truth, that I tell him it’s okay to keep hurting me in an attempt to protect me? While I’ll forgive him for doing what he thinks is right, I’m not a damned punching bag either.
I back off him and sit on the end of the bed to address the thoughts swirling through my mind. It’s important to me to handle this situation with grace and humor. Getting mad and bringing all of it to a boil won’t help anything.
“Okay,” I say simply, even though it kills me to agree. “Then I’ll stop.” There’s relief in his eyes, and I almost feel bad for him. “But first,” I say, and the wary expression that creeps over his features is satisfying. “I want you to give me a good reason why. Not just that you don’t want to. A reason that feels legitimate.”
I hold up a hand to silence the first answer that he’s about to throw out between us. “And I want you to think about it.” I look at him from under my lashes. “Because I know you don’t think I’m drunk and disgusting after what we just did.” I glance over at the bed, my cheeks stinging as I think about how he’d brought me to orgasm with his lips.
Pushing the thoughts from my mind, I push forward. “No BS about using me.” I resist the urge to roll my eyes at that one. “I’m a big enough girl to decide if you’re all wrong for me, so don’t try to protect me from yourself. I can make that call.”
He suddenly looks like someone let the air out of him. His shoulders slouch a bit and his features relax. It’s all the proof I need to know that that’s exactly what he was doing. “I’m not stupid,” I say, my voice suddenly shy. “I’m a virgin, not an idiot.”
There’s a sense of victory washing over me as if this is a test of adulthood that I’m passing with flying colors. I’ve seen Amber have blowouts with the guys she’s with, and I promised myself I’d never be like that. I’m not going to scream, shout, and destroy love and trust for the sake of arguing. I’m not saying I’ll never lose my temper, I’m just saying I’d rather do my best to approach everything like this.
Calm.
Clear headed.
I smile at him, a small, shy smile designed to put him at ease. “First, I need to use the bathroom.” I’m on my feet and out the door before he can stop me. Two doors down, I find the open bathroom door and slip in. With a wistful glance at the beautiful glass shower box and the garden tub, I struggle to remind myself that I’m having a conversation.
But I’ll remember to ask him if he’d mind if I take a bath. That sounds heavenly right now.
I wash my hands and look at my face. There’s no sign of my drinking. No change that shows I got a bit naughty. I look the same as I did yesterday. The makeup I’d been wearing looks like I’d washed it off last night. My skin is clear, and I just look like me.
Maybe it shouldn’t be weird, but it is. There’s no proof outwardly that anything has changed, but when I really think about it, everything has changed.
Chapter Twenty
Dakin
I stare at the door, feeling utterly shocked to my core. Not only is she the most levelheaded woman I’ve ever met, she’s got the patience of a saint.
This is going to be harder than I thought.
Maybe words won
’t be enough. Maybe I need to scare her. Really put some fear into her that will settle any doubt she has that I’m some white knight who’s going to save her or protect her.
Hell, I’ll never forgive myself for it, but she’s not backing down.
Firing myself up, I try to figure out how to tear her down and destroy her in a way she’ll be able to recover from while hating me as a product. No part of me wants to actually hurt her, but I’ve got two choices. Either I hurt her now before she’s any deeper vested, or I hurt her later after she’s fallen in love with me.
Or worse, after I’ve fallen in love with her.
Is that the crux of it all? Am I doing this for her? Or for myself? Am I worried about hurting her or being hurt? Because she’s nothing if not ready for everything. She’s proven to be more adult and levelheaded than even I have been up until now.
The door opens and I glance over at her. Her cheeks are still pink as if walking in here has reminded her of what I’d done to her on my bed. “I love that tub,” she says, her voice still holding that shy undertone.
She’s a walking contradiction of power and vulnerability, harmony and fire, submissive and firm. It’s a saccharine mixture I want to explore. I want to discover her. And as she sits on the edge of my bed as if aware she might need to bolt at any moment, I struggle to keep myself under control.
It feels like with every second that ticks by, so does my self-control.
She lifts her head, her chin rising like she’s silently challenging me to battle. I see it in her eyes, in her features, in the subtle set of her eyebrows.
“So,” she says, her eyes locked on mine. “What’s your reason?”
I don’t answer. Every muscle in my body tightens like I’m ready to spring. I feel my hands begin to shake and I know I need to walk away. I need to step out. I need to get my thoughts in order before I lose control.
Never has anyone pushed me like this. Never has a woman so calmly pushed me to my limits and demanded answers for the things I’d said.
Touch Me Page 30
