by Devyn Quinn
“I didn’t come up for coffee.” His mouth covered her nipple, swirling around the little nub.
She almost exploded from the pleasure, her voice trailing off. His lips felt like warm satin, sucking gently, then with more pressure. He flicked and teased with his tongue and teeth until she trembled.
Her moans were her acceptance. Trouble didn’t begin to describe what she was getting herself into.
At the moment, she didn’t care.
3
Body trembling, Callie tangled her fingers in his thick hair, backing away and looking into his eyes. The intimacy of the moment thickened, jelling into something dynamic, explosive. The tension between them ratcheted up another notch.
“I’ve needed this.” Biting her lower lip, her attention edged toward the cock straining inside his tight jeans. His penis was rigid, hot, and definitely huge.
“Think it’s something you might like for your birthday?”
Callie didn’t hesitate. “Thinking and knowing are two different things.” She reached for his zipper. “I know what I want.”
He caught her roaming hands. Linking her fingers with his, he took a deep breath. “Not like this.”
She looked at him, stunned. Staring into his serious face, she wondered what had gone awry. She was ready, willing, and able. Why had he suddenly stopped?
Callie barely endured the strain. Panic fluttering in her belly, she fought to control the raging hormones that hadn’t yet gotten the stop sign. “I want to—” she started to say.
His grip tightened, reassuring and warm. “I do, too.” He reached out, tracing the soft lines of her neck and jaw. “But slowly. I want to know every inch of you, touch every inch.”
She sucked in a steadying breath. “Say that again, please.”
He smiled. “I want you, love. All of you.”
“Then take me.”
“I intend to.” He eyed her extreme Goth gear. “How you got yourself into this bloody outfit, I don’t know.” He fingered the tight lacings and grinned. The look was far from innocent and definitely provocative. “But I’m dying to get you out of it.”
Callie glanced down at the breasts he’d somehow worked out of the leather prison. A weak laugh escaped her throat. “You’re doing a pretty good job.”
“I’d like to do better. Stand up, love. Let me see if I can work my way through this maze you’ve got going here.”
Callie stood. Sitting up straight, he guided her to stand between his legs. Examining the ties, he began unweaving the complicated lacings between her breasts, all the way down to her belly button.
As he worked on the tight silk bindings, Callie cast a glance to the mirror hanging across the room. Her lips were parted, her skin flushed, and a hungry wanton expression colored her features. She looked like a woman ready to be fucked. No, a woman who needed to be fucked.
Now.
The last of the laces undone, Iollan let the bustier drop. Angry red lines were imprinted on her skin. He ran his palm across her sensitive skin. “As good as you look in it, you look better out of it.”
“Feels better, too.” She stretched, smiling in relief. “I can breathe.”
He fingered the zipper on her left hip. “Now let’s see what we can do about this.” A tug and her skirt fell to her feet. That left only a pair of thigh-high sheer hose, heels, and the leather wrist bindings covering her arms from elbow to wrist.
“Nice.” Iollan gave her near-naked body a friendly smile, taking in every last inch. If he saw anything he didn’t like, he wasn’t showing it.
Basking in his appreciation, Callie glanced down. Full breasts and shapely hips flared out from her tiny waist. Her legs were long and lean, her belly flat and solid as a brick. All those extra days working out in the gym had paid off. Her body was in top shape, a necessity of the job she followed with near-religious fervor. Roger had reminded her many times during her training—in and out of bed—that an out-of-shape agent was a sloppy agent.
“You’re perfect in every way.” Pulling her closer, he leaned forward, nibbling the bare skin just below her breasts.
Callie’s breath caught. His lips were soft and warm, moist as he licked the sensitive area. The heated sensation of his mouth on her bare abused skin felt wonderful. A lusty moan slipped out.
“You like that?”
“Oh, yes.” She purred in rapture. “More, please, sir.”
He pulled back, taking away the wonderful torture. “Good girl. You catch on fast.” He reached for her left wrist. “But not yet. Still have to finish the unveiling.”
Callie stiffened. Oh, shit. She’d totally forgotten the reason she wore those cuffs in the first place.
Undoing the ties, Iollan peeled away the leather cuff. Pale and white, dozens of white scars were stark against her abused inner wrists. The veins wove pale greenish-blue paths beneath the obvious damage.
His face darkened. She saw him swallow, fighting the urge to question their presence.
She tried to pull her arm away. “Don’t.”
He persisted. “I want to see.” He unbound her right wrist, visually probing more scars.
“Seen enough?” Her words were an unpleasant snarl.
He shook his head, tracing one with a single finger. “Tell me why?”
So warm only moments ago, Callie felt ice cold inside as the blood drained from her face. She’d always explained the irregular scars away as a childhood accident.
Trust. Treacherous, but necessary. He had to believe everything about her, down to the last detail. Shifting uneasily, she gave him a level look. In for a penny, in for a pound.
“I’m a cutter.” Her voice quavered, but she quickly gained control. “Or rather, I was. When I was a teenager.”
Warm hands touched her hips, holding her still and steady. Beneath his touch, her skin raised into goose bumps. “What happened to make you do that?”
Callie shivered. Her stomach felt as if thousands of snakes writhed inside and her palms felt clammy. Her life hadn’t been easy or pleasant. What do you do when the state sends you to a foster home, and your foster father finds you more attractive than his wife sleeping down the hall?
You close your eyes and endure.
Racked by insomnia, fearing the man who would come and use her body in ways she didn’t then understand, Callie had turned to the only solution she knew to vent her fear and frustration.
“What can I say? I was a fucked-up kid.” She struggled to get the words out. Shuffled in through the foster care system since her third birthday, Callie had never known the security of a stable home, much less a family who loved her—or wanted her.
A muscle at the corner of his lower jaw jumped. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Her hands were shaking cold. The past was the past. Her intensity was out of place, leaving her too exposed. “When I was a teenager, I cut a little, drank a little, and fucked a lot. It was a fetish. I’m over it now.”
“Let’s see if you are.” He reached for her hand.
Dismayed, Callie resisted. She felt nauseated. “Don’t take me there.” Muscles tense, she stood, waiting.
“I know the darkness inside you.” Succeeding in the capture, he raised her inner wrist to his mouth. Moist warmth spread across her chilled skin.
She closed her eyes, heart skipping at the sheer primitive power of his lips on her skin. Her brain was totally paralyzed, trapped by his utterly sensual acceptance.
Another warm, slow, wet stroke went straight to the center of her pulsing clit. The delicious skim of his tongue was followed by the scrape of his teeth. His move—sexy, amazing, enticing—gripped her fractured senses.
“Harder,” she gasped.
He obliged. More scraping. More sucking. More bliss.
Dimly aware of the sensations pooling between her legs, a fierce shudder knotted her muscles. Body aching and straining with a need too long unfulfilled, she imagined his cock sinking inside her, stretching her until the last inch filled her.
Iollan caught her before she fell. Only dimly aware of what he was doing, Callie felt herself swept up into his arms as he carried her somewhere…toward the bedroom? As shadows closed in, Callie felt the softness of a mattress beneath her back.
Forcing heavy eyelids open, Callie raised her head. Silhouetted by the light emanating from the living room, he looked ethereal and mysterious. Only the sound of ragged breathing betrayed his presence. He stood by the bed, unmoving. Though she couldn’t see his face, she felt his gaze through the darkness.
She smiled, patting the empty space beside her. “Little lonely here.”
“You won’t be for long.” Unbuttoning his shirt, he slid it off his broad shoulders and tossed it aside. The mattress sank under his weight as he stretched out beside her. Body to body, she felt the swell of his cock pressed against her thigh. His erection strained to escape its cruel prison, and he was so close she smelled the heated vibrations emanating off his body.
Aware of her own nakedness, she hinted. “You’re still a little overdressed.” Having him so near, yet still inaccessible, set her nerve endings on fire. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest. She didn’t want to wait another second, but apparently he had other things in mind. She closed her eyes and pictured his cock in action. The thought sent a little tingle of excitement down her spine.
Propped on one elbow, he stroked a hand down her cheek. “All in good time. It’s not nice to rush a man when there’s so much to taste.”
Heavy eyelids opened. “That’s a good thing, I hope.”
“The best.” His free hand trailed lower, finding the swell of her right breast.
Callie pulled him down, closing the gap between them. Their kiss started out slow, gentle, but that didn’t last. Their appetites were too voracious, too fierce, to contain. His tongue swept in, arriving and conquering with an intensity that left her breathless.
Giving a helpless whimper, she rose into the kiss, pressing her body into his. She slid an arm under his body, bringing her hand up across his back. Her fingers flexed, long nails scraping deliciously across his bare skin with gentle but insistent pressure.
A satisfied moan passed from his mouth to hers. “Mmm, I love the feel of that.”
She dug her nails a little deeper. “I think I can oblige, provided I have proper…motivation…from you.”
His exploring hand slid lower, over the flat planes of her belly, then lower, down one bare thigh. “I think I can give you that.” His hand slipped between her legs, urging her thighs to part. With a kiss and caress, his fingers investigated the moist, warm nest.
Pulse zinging, Callie spread wider. She knew she shouldn’t be doing this, but couldn’t help herself. With her vision going dark, her heart skipped a few beats. Limbs turned to liquid, a yearning sound breaking from her throat. “I’ve needed this…” Her moan was frantic, raw with lust.
“I know.” Giving her a lazy smile, he slid his fingers along her honey-slick labia.
She lifted her hips to a better angle. “I can’t wait,” she said, gasping for breath. “I’m so hot I can barely take it.”
A single thick finger caressed her silk before sliding past creamy lips. Rippling inner muscles grasped and closed around him. “You’ll take it all right.” His head dipped, mouth nuzzling an extended nipple. His lips were warm, like melted chocolate. Soft, sensual, and insinuating.
Her shivers began in small waves, growing and spreading until they swamped her in intense tremors. Every stroke of his finger was perfect. Fiercely aroused, she hovered on the brink of shattering into a thousand flaming shards.
“You really shouldn’t be this good,” she gasped.
His tongue flicked an erect nipple. “Don’t you like a little spoiling?” Another flick, then a light nip at the sensitive nub.
The tug went straight to her already sensitive clit and she moaned. She laughed. “I—right now I can barely think. It feels so good.”
“Don’t think, love. Just enjoy.”
Before she caught her breath, he was on the move, sliding down between her legs. Fingering the edge of her lacy stockings, he traced his tongue along the line they formed over the top of her leg.
She caught her breath. “I guess it’s too late to change my mind.”
Gazing at her neatly trimmed bush, he gave a low, sexy laugh. “Now’s not the time to do that to a hungry man.” His hands parted her thighs. Wider.
“Haven’t eaten today?” The hint of what he could do with his mouth and fingers made her mouth run dry.
“No.” A single finger glided along softness.
“Me either.” She licked her lips in anticipation. “Shouldn’t it be ladies first?”
“And indeed you are.” He lifted a leg, hooking it over his shoulder. His hands moved under her ass, bracing her body and tilting her hips upward. Closing the distance, he dipped his head low.
The first pass of his tongue snapped Callie’s fragile grasp on sanity. Shivering uncontrollably, she moaned a long moan that caught her breath. Seeking the tip of her pleasure center, he nipped, just enough to give her a start. A jolt went straight up her spine.
Arms shooting up to clench the headboard, Callie arched her back. “Holy hell!”
He grinned up at her. “You like?”
Barely able to breathe, she puffed out her answer. “Fantastic.”
“You knew it would be.” Disappearing again, his tongue moved up and down her swollen labia, teasing with endless flicks delivering ideal sensations in just the right places.
Callie groaned, lost in the wonder of exquisite oral sex. His mouth was on her, working her most responsive center. All she had to do was feel, and enjoy. She wriggled her hips, pressing into his mouth, urging him to explore her deeper.
So much for my self-control.
Iollan Drake was a suspected murderer, a man with a hidden past and a life even more so. Having sex with him hadn’t exactly been part of her plan. It just happened. And now that she’d crossed the line, there was no backing out.
Not that she wanted to.
Further thought took a kick to the curb when he circled the tip of her clit. Letting out a rush of air, Callie tightened her thighs against his head. Sensing she was ready for the free fall, he tongued her violently, stabbing deep.
Pleasure caught hold, grabbing and lifting her into the abyss of rapture that was his mouth and lips. Her body was a hot coil of anticipation, and her final shred of control slipped away as the electrifying pleasure of climax went on and on, swamping her in a pool of indescribable bliss.
Trembling uncontrollably, Callie felt her nerve endings hum. Stress, exhaustion, and tension drained away. An eternity passed. Finally her universe stopped spinning.
As the sensation faded to bearable levels, she pursed dry lips. She felt good. Better than good. Fucking incredible.
Iollan Drake definitely had the touch.
“Oh, God. It’s never felt like that before.”
He stretched over her, hands coming down on either side of her shoulders as he cloaked her body with his. Arms bracketing her shoulders, he eased her lower until their faces were just inches apart.
Callie’s arms instinctively circled his body. Under her searching palms his back was sleek, muscular, ridged with the tension consuming him from inside. A shudder ripped through her as his hips sank between hers. They fit together perfectly. The press of his cock against the nest of her belly was as long and inflexible as an iron bar, and just as hot.
“It’s not supposed to, love.” His accented voice was gentler than any physical caress. His hips rubbed against hers. “What other men have done to you and what I can do to you are two different things.”
A foolish grin turned up the corners of her mouth. God, this man wa
s incredible. Amazing. Too good to be true.
“Keep doing it, then.” The overwhelming need to rip off his jeans had her sparking with frustration. She’d gotten a sample of his wares. Now she wanted the entire package. Skin tingling, her stomach felt as if a thousand butterflies had taken flight. Arousal ached for completion. She was hot, wet, and definitely ready.
“Gladly.” Softly grinding his hips against hers, his mouth crushed hers. Steering with the same sizzling need that scorched her soul, he wanted her to share in the feast.
She accepted his kiss greedily, inhaling his taste, mingled so deliciously with her own unique juices. The wanting, the needing, drove her wild—yet he was holding back, making her wait.
Another second and Callie felt as if she’d spontaneously combust. “You’re still a little overdressed for this party,” she hinted.
He held his body up from hers, creating a space between them. “Do something about it, then.”
Eager hands went to work. Her shaking fingers found and opened the buttons. His cock jutted free, magnificent. To feel more skin against hers, she slid her hands into his jeans, pushing them down his hips and over his fine ass. He wore no underwear. As tight as those jeans were there wasn’t room for underclothing.
His erection pulsed in her hand, thick and long, like steel wrapped in velvet. Callie stroked, bringing her fist up to the flaring crown, then back down.
Iollan’s lips moved from hers to her cheek, then her jaw, to her ear. “I’ve only just started.”
A soft gasp escaped her. “What?” she asked in a husky voice. Her need was so raw, so deep that it threatened to consume her.
His hips shifted between her legs, the tip of him pressing, but not entering. “To make you mine.”
Callie gazed into his face, half in shadow, half in light. “I don’t believe in fairy tales.”
“Anything’s possible,” he said, and glided into her molten depth with a vigorous and demanding thrust.
Callie couldn’t think. He filled her to the brim, until it felt that she would overflow with the glorious joy of having him inside her. They weren’t just joined, they were one, as if her body had been created for this man only, and forever.
