by Julia Devlin
I blinked up at him. “You have?”
“Yes, Juliet. I have.” He trailed a finger over my ribs, between the swells of my breasts, over my collarbones before shifting strands of my hair through his fingers. “I don’t just want your body—although I want that almost to the point of desperation—I want you. All of you.”
The afternoon passed with a laziness I hadn’t experienced in a long time. To my surprise, Christos was fun to be around. As the hours slipped by, so did my guard and I found myself relaxing. In all the ways I’d pictured being with him, lying comfortably on a beach wasn’t one of them.
He told me about his family, his mother and father who’d come over as Greek immigrants to rear him and his two younger sisters in America. He entertained me with stories of summers in Greece and even managed to slip in wanting to take me there. He said his family lived in a tiny village off the sea and it was the most beautiful spot in the whole world, and I believed him.
I listened with rapt attention, asking him questions I’d always wanted to know but never dared to think I’d get a chance to ask. His parents were still alive and he went to their house for dinner every Sunday night. He was close to his sisters and their families. He had three nieces and two nephews who he adored and lavished with so many gifts he’d been admonished by his sisters.
He laughed. “My sister Anna didn’t appreciate it when I brought Peter a drum set.”
A wide grin split my face, and I shook my head. “He’s the nine-year-old?”
“Yes. Demetrius,” he said, rolling the word over his lips so it was pronounced with an accent, “is eighteen months, a little too young to be a drummer.”
I tucked a lock of hair behind my ears. “You know she’ll pay you back someday.”
“That’s her promise.” His expression resigned but his affection was clear in his tone. “I’ve gotten my fair share of drum solos left on my voice mail.”
Since the day I’d met him I’d built him up in my mind as someone remote and untouchable, to find him so incredibly down to earth made my perception shift. It’d been swaying for weeks, but now it settled. For the first time I looked at him and saw not the adversary or the untouchable Greek god but the man. Turned out he was human after all.
Those green eyes caught mine and the world melted away. Silence and heat took the place of the cars and people. The waves lapping along the sand faded into the background and it was just us.
His eyes darkened, and a subtle alertness tensed his muscles. Full lips falling open, as if to say something. Amazed, I watched the intake of his breath expand his chest before he pressed his mouth closed.
I do this to him. Me. I put the desire and hunger in every line of his face.
I gave up. Right then and there in the middle of Oak Street beach, I touched him. Reached for him. One finger slid over the line of his strong jaw, I marveled as he tensed under my touch. I traced spot under his ear, smoothed over the cords of his neck, skimmed over his Adam’s apple, into the hollow of his throat. His mouth beckoned, and I ran the pad of my thumb over the curve of his lower lip. Smooth and slightly damp, the brush of skin acted like an electric shock that rocketed up my arm in an explosion of tingles.
Tension radiated off him. I loved the coil of his muscles, the pull and bunch under my fingertips. Reveled in the way he held himself in check as he let me explore.
Dominance was part of his nature and I knew how hard it was for him not to take over. It made me want him all the more. Moreover, it made me want to feel that passion unleashed and unrestrained.
I dipped my head so our mouths were only a fraction of an inch apart, but instead of kissing him, I licked. Ran my tongue over his bottom lip. Stroking. Teasing. Pleasure and desire spiraled through me as his fingers dug into my thighs, but he remained absolutely still and let me have my way.
I nipped. My teeth sinking into the plump flesh as I ran my palms over his chest, loving the way he flexed like a panther ready to pounce. Unable to help myself any longer, I brushed my mouth over his and whispered, “I want something.”
“Anything,” he said in a hoarse voice.
I lifted my head and met his gaze, wanting him to understand this wasn’t a joke. “I want what you described from your conference room fantasy.”
The late-afternoon sun poured over his hair so it gleamed blue-black and his eyes flashed. “Tell me.”
“Fuck me.” I brushed my lips against his. “Possess me. Fill me up.”
Dark lashes closed as he breathed in deep, and moments stretched between us. When he looked at me again, my stomach clenched. The predator was out, unleashed, ready to play. And I wanted him more than I wanted air.
Long fingers gripped my chin. “If I do, you’ll be mine. And I’ll never let you run again.”
It was exactly what I wanted, what I needed—not to be allowed to run, but I didn’t say any of this. Instead, I met his gaze and said simply, “I know.”
Chapter Six
Neither of us spoke. I stared out the window of the cab, my fingers pressed to my lips, watching the endless parade of buildings and people. A car honked in the distance accompanied by the screech of tires against asphalt. The sounds of the city a low buzz in my ears. All the while, my concentration was fixated on the press of Christos’ solid frame against mine, the heat of his body warming my skin, the feel of his attention focused on me.
His large palm came to rest on my bare leg and I about jumped out of my skin at the contact. He squeezed, shifting closer, his fingers brushing the inside of my knee. He stroked. Toyed. Dallied in a spot I’d never thought was sensitive until every brush of his fingers against my skin made my cunt clench. My nipples beaded so tight, the sensation almost painful it was so keen.
I felt like Michelle Pfeiffer in The Age of Innocence, in the back of that carriage as Daniel Day-Lewis slowly unbuttoned the catch of her white glove and stroked over the pulse in her wrist.
One innocent touch capable of creating so much havoc.
I was sure Christos could hear the pounding of my heart, which beat so hard and so fast, I could feel it between my legs. Pulsing and throbbing for attention. Need so acute I didn’t know how to handle it strummed through me.
It was pure agony.
A tiny gasp escaped my throat and he seemed to understand, because his gentle playing stilled. Heat seared me as he dropped his lips to the shell of my ear. “Shh, it’s okay, I’ll take care of you.”
A couple of weeks ago, that statement would have been met with claws, but instead I dug my nails into the purse clutched tightly in my lap and didn’t say a word.
His fingers moved higher. My skirt slid up my bare thigh. I glanced nervously into the rearview mirror, expecting to see the eyes of the cabbie on us, but to my surprise, he seemed not to be paying us any attention as his hands strummed against the steering wheel in time to the beat of the music I’d never heard before.
It was odd to be in so much turmoil, wrapped in so much lust and have it be oblivious to the stranger in the front seat.
“Don’t worry about him.” Christos nipped at the lobe of the ear. “Open for me.”
In response, my legs clamped tightly together and he chuckled—a low, wicked sound that sent another surge of wetness between my legs.
“Look at me,” he said in a tone so soft and yet so commanding I had no choice but to obey.
Slowly I turned to meet his eyes, almost frightened by what I’d see. His gaze was hot, filled with passion.
“Open.”
I did. My thighs parted and his fingers stroked up my skin. I gasped when he touched the soft, plump curve of my inner thigh, but instead of moving higher as I expected, he started that relentless playing again.
Our gazes locked together as he circled his fingers over my flesh over and over. Again and again and again. My pulse beat wild and erratic in my throat, matching the squeezing pull of my pussy that wanted his hard cock, his fingers, his mouth. Anything he would give me. I was desperate with greed. Sweat bea
ded at my temples as I clenched my teeth, my hands clasped so tight on my purse I was sure I’d gouge the leather.
His breath had also quickened, and I could sense the strain in his body as he kept up his playing. Out of nowhere a sharp stab of pleasure made me bite the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out. Shocked, my eyes widened as I realized I was close to orgasm. My mind rejected the idea as impossible, but it didn’t change the fact that it was true. I was coiled so tight, my cunt throbbing, need spiraling higher and higher until I was on the verge of exploding, and all he’d done was touch my leg while he stared into my eyes.
The intensity frightened me and I started to move back. Suddenly he had a vise grip on my leg.
“No.” The word a hard, harsh sound on his lips. “I want it all, Juliet. You will not hide from me.”
“But—” I said, only to be cut off by a brutal kiss that was over too quickly.
With the hand not stroking over my quivering inner thigh, he pried my fingers off my purse and pressed my palm to his cock. He was hard, his erection like steel though his jeans. “This is how it is with us. There’s nothing we can do about it but give in.”
I wrapped my hand around his shaft as best I could, and he pressed his forehead into mine and muttered a low, “Jesus.”
All I wanted was to feel that satin-smooth skin on my hand. Bare. Naked. No barrier. I circled the head of his cock like he circled my inner thigh, and his eyes closed. “It’s hard to make a point here with you doing that.”
And with that, my fear ebbed away. It was exactly what I needed. This thing between us that I refused to name, it was okay as long as he was there with me. In this moment, I believed he was.
The car swayed to a stop, throwing both of us off balance. I blinked, glanced out the window, almost surprised to find us in front of my red-bricked townhome.
From the front seat the driver said, “Twelve fifty.”
Christos shifted to lean back on the black vinyl seat, cracked from age and overuse, and I huddled against the door. He lifted his hips to withdraw a folded stack of bills. As he rifled through the money, nerves kicked in.
He pulled me from the taxi, his grip sure and strong, comforting in my sudden distress. Before I could gain solid footing, he was yanking me up the stairs, practically running. I fumbled after him, my head swimming with lust and fear.
A heel caught on a crack and I stumbled, using the concrete banister to catch myself. Breathless, I yelled, “Christos.”
He froze, looking back at me over one shoulder, a frown on his lips. Suddenly, he shook his head as though clearing it from a daze and jerked his hand through his hair.
“Fuck.” He walked back down the two steps and held out his palm. “Give me your keys.”
“I’ve got it.” I started to rummage through my purse, finding them shoved in the way bottom corner.
Before I could speak he plucked the set from my fingers and splayed the keys out like a deck of cards. “Which one?”
I pointed to the middle one.
With a nod, he took a deep breath that filled his chest and slowly exhaled before he cupped my chin. Slowly, he dipped his head and brushed my mouth with his.
It was as if a kindle burst into flames.
I think he’d meant it to be a gentle, calming kiss, although I couldn’t be sure. One second his lips were soft against mine and the next our mouths were crushed together. A hard, brutal bruising of lips and tongue and teeth that had me clutching at his shirt and his fingers digging into my hips.
Right out on my front stairs, we went at each other as if we were victims of starvation who’d been presented with a feast. Hot, primal noises escaped our throats to mingle in the air as we fought our way up the steps while refusing to break contact.
I arched into him, and when my skirt became in the way of what I wanted most, I beat my fists on his chest. He wrapped his arms around me, so tight I couldn’t breathe, as he lifted me up another step, our mouths still frantic.
Hard. Demanding. Consuming. I couldn’t stop.
We made it to the landing. I have no conscious idea of how he managed to unlock my door and push me inside, but he did.
My foyer swung around me as he pushed me up against the first available wall. Buttons flew everywhere at he ripped my blouse as if it were a piece of flimsy paper. My fingers found the buckle of his belt and I fumbled on the clasp, my hands shaking with need. I finally got it undone and slid down the zipper as he yanked my skirt up over my hips. He pushed my hand away as I reached for his cock, instead shifting his knees to rock his erection between my legs. My cunt spasmed and I gripped his shoulders for support.
All the while we never broke the kiss. We groaned into each other’s mouths at the contact. At the friction. My fantasies didn’t come close to the passion between us. The raw hunger. The pounding desire. The brutal lust. Hands flew. Bodies strained and twisted. Mouths and tongues met and twined. Fused together and refused to part.
He hooked my knee on his hip and fumbled into his pockets.
The crinkle of foil sounded on the air as he ripped open the condom. I dropped my knee, twisting to move out of his way. His knuckles brushed over my wet panties, and I jerked as the pleasure spiked.
Yes. Jesus, his touch. It was so good. So right. I wanted more. Now.
I’d thought I’d been wild with lust before, but something broke inside me and I went mad. I tried to climb up him. In him. Passion consuming me with a heady haze so I forgot everything. I forgot to be scared, to be nervous. Forgot to think about how I looked or if my stomach looked big, or even about what he thought. I forgot to hold back.
Everything spiraled out of control until we were almost fighting each other in an effort to get closer. I yanked at his shirt. Our mouths ceased contact for a fraction of a second as he helped me pull it off before his lips were back on mine.
He flicked open the front clasp of my bra, ripping away the cups to free me. His thumb brushed over my nipple for one second before he crushed his chest so my breasts flattened against his solid strength. I hissed at the contact. My nipples scraped along the fine hairs.
I scratched at his back with my nails.
He tore my panties clear from my body.
I reached between us and wrapped my fingers around his cock, which actually seemed to swell even harder beneath my touch. I guided him to the wet, slippery folds and he slammed into me. With the shock of his entry, I cried out, the sound becoming lost in my throat. The orgasm ripped through me as my muscles contracted around him, eliciting a growl.
He pulled out and plunged back in. Powerful waves of pleasure stormed through me as he pounded into my body. He didn’t let up. He drove into me harder and harder. Faster and faster. Over and over. Allowing me no recovery from the orgasm still rocking through me. The pulsing contractions never stopped, only coiled tighter until I came again, convulsing so hard around his cock it was almost painful.
My second climax triggered his own. The force of it slammed through me as if I were connected to him on some visceral level. My mouth caught his shout of release and he rode me until he was deeper inside me than anyone had ever been before.
Strangely, I was reminded of the storm in the photograph in my office. That whipping of wind, the pelting of rain, the release of all that thunder and lightning in the sky, and I wished there was a way to capture this feeling, but how could I? It was indescribable and absolutely beautiful in its violence.
We slumped against each other. He held me up, bracing me against the wall as our breathing calmed and the kiss gentled.
He’d given me what I’d wanted, what I’d asked for.
He’d fucked me. Possessed me. Filled me up.
And his mouth had never left mine.
Chapter Seven
The kiss transformed from hot and frantic to a slow and erotic. A drugging melding that almost had a dreamlike quality. Strong fingers stroked my hair, my temples, cupped the back of my head while he had his way with my mouth.
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sp; I surrendered. Completely. Relaxing into him in a way I never had with another person. Almost limp, my arms draped over his shoulders, his cock inside me, our bodies locked together.
Time stood still. It could have been a single minute or hours later, but we finally came up for air. He brushed a lock of hair from my cheek and his eyes met mine. “I knew I was in trouble that first time we’d kissed in the bathroom.”
A heated flush climbed up my neck and over my face. In the light of what happened between us, I have no idea why but shyness overtook me all the same.
He brushed a finger over my cheek, looking slightly amused. “I meant what I said, kissing you is better than sex.”
I had no idea what to say, my emotions lodged in my throat, strangling me. Both fighting to get out and fighting to remain tucked safely inside. Once again I blushed like a schoolgirl.
“That was, until now.” As if to demonstrate, he licked my bottom lip and whispered, “I didn’t mean for this to happen. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.”
“W-what—” I cleared my throat of all its breathless hoarseness. “What was it supposed to be like?” I wanted to look away, but I forced myself to stare into his green eyes as though somehow that would ensure I’d be told the truth.
He smiled. Grinned actually, all white flashing teeth and boyish charm, and my heart just melted into a big puddle of goo.
I couldn’t help myself.
His thumb stroked over my lower lip and I didn’t need a mirror to know it was swollen and red. “I’d promised myself I’d go slowly. Seduce you. Take my time. Give you what you deserved.”
What I deserved? How was that possible? It had been earth-shattering. But I didn’t say any of this. Instead I remained mute, blinking at him like a deer in the headlights while I tried to figure out a way to get the use of my limbs back.
