Whisper (The Voice trilogy Book 1)
Page 12
“Are you scared?”
“No.”
His eyes sparkle in challenge and he pulls me into him with such ferocity that I lose my footing and he crushes me against his rock hard abs, growling into my ear. His hips rock against me while he grinds himself into my lower back. He is hot and hard.
“We are going to have to go slow. Or I may tear you apart.” His casual, carnal promise sends shock waves through me, fanning the flames he lit. I don’t know whether to beg or scream. I have a feeling I may end up doing both. “Now are you scared?”
“Maybe,” I barely whisper.
“Good.” Sauntering over to the bar I silently follow, watching the muscles in his back dance against the fabric of his shirt. That shirt needs to go. He pours a drink and watches me back up against the counter. He hands me a glass and I play with the amber liquid swirling it around and around watching him, watch me.
He radiates heat, wrapping around me, twisting like a serpent, luring me to the fruit of my undoing. Electricity teems in the air, crackling in my head, loosening my grip on reality. He tips his drink, but I shake off the offer. My head swimming as it is, no additional plying required. Taking the drink from my hand, he abandons it to the counter and drags his hands through his hair, rousing the thick dark curls. I drink him in, every languid inch of predatory heaven, inching closer, his casual pace falsely comforting. Strong hands grip my waist, raising me to the counter, the cold granite on my bare flesh quickly forgotten as he takes his place, coaxing my thighs apart, closing the empty space between us. His hands float like clouds over my swelling curves and settle to the cool counter on either side, teasing circles on my hips with his thumbs. His hands sneak under the edges of fabric spread across the counter and hover just shy of my bare flesh. Heat radiates from his fingers, teasing. I shift, called by nature to do so. I want his hands on me. I want him to tease me, touch me, kiss me, feel me. I want him inside of me. His face is impassive while he watches me squirm. He doesn’t kiss me or say a word, just watches my temperature rise. I close my eyes and focus on the circles he draws in flame across my hidden skin, a few quietly deep breaths and the sound of blood rushing in my ears calms to a dull roar. I feel his eyes, waiting, appraising the results of his teasing. I slowly raise my lids and that beautiful mouth twitches into a stunning grin before his hands are around my bare backside, pulling me to the edge of the counter, forcing our bodies together.
“Are you wearing stockings?” he murmurs against my throat
“Yes,” I breathe in his ear a warm whisper.
“Mm mm…I love that.”
My hunger grows at his approval and I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, wanting to feel his chest against mine, rising and falling in time. I run my hands up the back of his neck, and bury my fingers in his inky black hair. His hands move to my face, pushing my hair back and his mouth is on mine. His hands gentle, while his kiss is urgent. Holding my head, his fingers tangled in my hair, twisting and pulling as he presses his soft lips to mine. I part my lips to him and his tongue dips into my mouth, gently probing. He teases my bottom lip, gently licking then biting before he retreats his hands still firmly wound about my hair, lips swollen and unsatisfied. If ever there was a mouth made to kiss me, surely it must be his. His mouth is perfect, so easily reading mine. His eyes are heavy and sexy as hell. He places a tender kiss on the corner of my mouth, and another before he backs slightly away and demands my attention.
“Tell me what you want, Sophie.”
“You.” I offer shyly, unsure of what he expects.
“Well, that goes without saying,” he smirks, winking.
I hop down from the counter, inching towards him with my eyes firmly focused south of his sparkling eyes. He is so powerful, shoulders broad and strong. His chest surely as beautiful as the rest of him, I tug on his bow tie and watch it slowly unravel. There is something so sensual, so sexual about an undone bow tie, all that it implies, all that it promises. I begin to unbutton his shirt slowly, not saying a word, not looking at him. I just listen to his breathing, heavy, while his taut muscles rise and fall in the wake of his attempt at control.
I spread his collar to see a tiny gold cross lying at the base of his throat. I pick it up and twirl it between my fingers, the metal warm from his moist skin. I look down into his face, in awe of the unexpected talisman, but there is nothing pious reflected in his gaze. His smoldering eyes are hungry and promise sin. The last button sits just at his belt and I peek up at him to see fire in his eyes. I unbutton the last button and run my finger across the leather, pressing it into his flesh watching his eyes jump.
“I’ve never been asked what I want.” Our eyes are locked as my hands move under the lightweight fabric of his shirt. I run my hands up his torso, my thumbs flicking and teasing his nipples before cresting his powerful shoulders and pushing the pesky shirt off of his back. The sight is breathtaking. Every plane and muscle perfectly honed, peppered with striking black hair. His waist is lean with a dark and dangerous trail that dips between those muscles that make me lose my train of thought. “I don’t know how to answer. I don’t know what you want me to say.” I place a gentle kiss amongst the dark hair in the middle of his chest and he closes his eyes.
“I want you to tell me what you want.” His mouth is slack as I place a kiss upon each perfect blush colored nipple, before running my hands across his abs, resting them on his hips, hovering across the edge of his pants, between heated bare flesh and the cool, supple leather of his belt.
“I want you.” In the space of a heartbeat, his face changes, becomes soft and safe. He cups my face so softly in his hand and strokes my cheek. Leaning into his palm, I lock away the memory, the feeling of his hand on my face and his eyes so soft. It is like heaven.
“You got me.” He pushes my dress from my shoulders and runs his fingers over the crest of my breasts, swelling within their delicate lace cage. “Beautiful,” he mutters, his hands skating across my flesh, leaving a trail of heat, he nibbles my throat and slips the straps from my shoulders. “Turn around.” The hot whisper sends a shiver down my spine. I turn towards the mirror and watch him. He slowly turns his nimble fingers to the hooks on my bra. I let it fall to the floor in front of me as he sinks to his knees and slowly pulls my dress into a pool of shimmering pale gold on the floor. I am utterly exposed, save for the tiny strip of silk that covers my aching sex and the garters holding my silky stockings.
“You are so soft, Sophie. Like a rose petal. I want to stroke every inch of your skin until it glows pink under my fingers.” An appreciative groan rolling through him, while his hands roam over my feverish skin, pulling and kneading my wanting flesh. He pulls one of the garters and lets it snap back against my sensitive skin, sending a jolt straight to my core. “I imagine this is what Botticelli’s beauties felt like. These curves could distract a man for days.” The words hang hot and heavy in my mind as his deft fingers skate up my legs, tracing my every outline, coming to rest on my bare hips. His thumbs teasing at the dimples at the base of my spine, his lips feather light, placing a kiss on each, before he slowly rises to his feet, keeping his hands on my flesh, skating up my sides, drawing a shiver to the surface.
“So soft.” His hands are everywhere, twisting me to the heavens, pulling me down into the dark, his mouth hot and confusing. His touch is too hot, too soft. My mind floats above in disbelief, watching me writhe beneath his fingers. My nudity reflected is a stark contrast to his fully dressed form. Rhys pulls and twists my nipple, coaxing it out, pinching and rolling. His hand rises to the base of my throat, fingers gently stroking my jaw. I am putty in his hands, silently willing at this moment to do anything he asks of me. He turns me around and I have no need to cover myself as I normally would. His eyes are so hungry and appreciative I want him to look. I want him to stare at me until I fall to pieces. Hell, I want to look at myself. The creature I see staring back at me, wearing nothing but stockings and garters, she is wildly sexual and beautiful.
“Just a kiss,” he murmurs his lips hot against my thigh. “I want to savor every moment,” crawling up my body planting a kiss with each word. “I want to savor you,” he places a gentle kiss among the curls at the apex of my thighs. “I want to taste you,” a kiss on my hip. “I want to tease you,” a kiss on the other hip. “I want to make you shake.” His finger slides the silk to the side and gently grazes my slit, the contact too brief and fleeting. He runs his finger up the length of my body and rests it against my lips, heady with promise and proof of my need.
“I have been able to think of little else,” he mutters before kissing me so deeply my head swirls. His words wash over me in the most delightful shower. My heart aches in time with my core and I am instantly wet and needy. His fingers slide under the garter and snap, snap he has them undone in an instant. Rolling the stockings down my legs, one by one he manages to touch every inch of my skin, lighting little fires everywhere he goes. He pulls at the tiny string that holds my panties together and tugs them over my hips and down my calves. I point my toes as he pulls them from my body. I run my hands down his powerful back as he takes his place hovering above me, the weight of his body the only thing keeping me from floating away.
Rhys moves painfully slow, grinding against my flaming thighs, his cock hard and ready. His fingers twist and pull at my flesh scattering desperate kisses across my breasts, whispering his approval. He nips and suckles at one nipple while tugging at the other. The dance of push and pull, soft and hard ripples through me, my hips rock and roll seeking relief. I grasp Rhys’ ass and pull him into me, wanting more, more of him, flesh to flesh, sharing heat. He groans in approval as my fingers dig into his flesh, pulling down his boxers I run my hands around his waist, and dip my fingers in among his curls. He gasps as I wind my hand around his rock hard cock and squeeze, slowly, rhythmically. He stills in my hands and closes his eyes, surrendering to my touch.
This is what I am good at. I may not know what I want, but I surely know what he wants. He rolls to the side and my hands go with him, slowly pumping his hot flesh until the skin strains against itself, hard as a rock and ready to ride. He raises his hips off the bed so I can pull his boxers down and out of the way. He looks like heaven, lying back amongst the clouds, his body chiseled and perfect, and his perfect cock throbbing for me. I rock back onto my heels and take him all in. His eyes twinkle with well-deserved ego while he watches my hands stroke his length, up and down. He gasps and his eyes roll as I squeeze at the base, rolling my thumb over his thick pink head, spreading the bead of pre cum around and around. I watch him slowly coming apart in my hands, and the power is intoxicating. I have complete control over the control freak. Just as my ego begins to swell his eyes open, aflame with purpose and restraint. He sits up in a flash and has my mouth in a tangle. Slowly he gets to his knees and pulls me onto his lap. He rocks back on his feet and I wrap my legs around him. His cock rests heavily between us, throbbing against my belly, echoing in my loins.
He holds my neck and kisses me, slowly, with practiced restraint. I wrap my arms around his neck and rock into him, inviting him to slip inside of me. The friction of his staff against my slick folds becoming unbearable, I reach between us to slip him in but he stops me. His eyes are black as coal, dilated and heavy.
“Not yet,” he scorns, placing my hand on his heart, holding it there. His heart rate is even and strong, while mine is frantic. The connection calms me and I feel my pulse slow, meeting his. “Slowly,” he mouths as his hand dips between us and he gingerly swipes at my slit, one, two times before pushing a finger beyond the folds. Drawing circles around my clit with his thumb, he slides a finger into my waiting sex. Then two fingers before swirling them around and around making me dizzy from the sensation. Heat rises from my toes as he draws torturous circles, over and over again until I cannot take another moment. My entire lower body tightens in response, trying to fight back the eruption. My legs tighten around his waist and my eyes screw shut while I focus on the crashing waves in my head. A low moan escapes his lips and it is almost my undoing. He continues until I think I may burst. Circle after circle twisting me tighter. Every instinct tells me to fight it, but Rhys won’t let me.
“Come on, Sophie, let go.”
“I can’t,” I pant, breathless.
“I can feel you. You want it, now give it to me.”
“No,” I shake my head stubbornly trying to fight.
“Come Sophie, NOW!” His thumb and fingers assault me in unison pressing every button. Rolling my clit while his fingers stroke the inside of my throbbing sex, I lose control. I shudder all around him, gripping his shoulders while the most beautiful white noise fills my head. Rhys’ fingers don’t stop, he twists me higher and higher until a second crack sounds in my head and I am utterly lost. My body clenches and braces, as another orgasm rolls through me like thunder. With no thought of anything my head flies back, I open my mouth ready to scream, but manage nothing more than a fading “…. Fuck!” moaned to the heavens, grinding into his hand, forcing more pressure, more pleasure. My chest heaves, struggling to catch my breath as my body hums in delight. My body feels alive and heavy. He brings me gently down, back into his hands, back into my body. I had no idea my body could do that, I felt like I was being torn apart, but it was so, so good. I release a last heavy breath and open my eyes, sweat rising on my brow. Rhys swipes it away with the pad of his thumb and brings it to his lips.
“And so we begin.”
Chapter 12
He places my hand upon his chest covering it with his own, holding me flat to his heart. He places his other hand on my heart and stills us both.
“Keep your eyes on me.” He gently flexes his hand over mine and I feel him, flow through me. A surge of his energy, mixing with mine exhilarates my blood and our pulse becomes one. He is breathing slowly and deeply, channeling his energy and I can feel every ounce, pouring over me, into me. My head hums while my eyes are locked onto his, holding on for dear life. Every measured breath brings us closer together. Sitting in his lap connected by our hearts and hands, nothing has ever felt so intimate. Our breathing begins to synch with the beat of our hearts and he begins to sway, slowly at first, building a rhythm with every revolution until we are rocking back and forth in unison. He picks up the pace and kisses me, lips gentle and soft. Pulling my hips closer to him, he rocks against me, pressing his hard member between my folds. He pulls me into him and rolls my hips forward. His cock slides up and down my slit, teasing.
“You are so wet for me, Sophie, so soft.” His visceral tone propels me forward and I wrap my arms around his neck and crush my heated skin to his, our hearts racing towards each other through the thin veil of sticky skin. All the while his eyes are locked
upon mine. I slide up and down his shaft, spreading myself all over him. My blood is boiling from the heat and vibration. I want him inside of me, every pulsating inch. My hips sway of their own accord, and my head rolls from the rush of blood, but he pulls me back, back down to earth, back into his orbit. “Stay with me,” he insists, “make it last.”
He covers my breast with his warm mouth, kneading and kissing until the flesh is swollen, then he moves to the other side and continues his assault. A frustrated moan grates in my throat, his eyes travel back to mine and they are serious, feral. He slides his hand between us and grazes the inside of my thigh before taking himself into his hand.
“The things I would like to do to you. I am going to lick you and kiss you and suck on every part of you until you weep, Sophie.” His words hang in the air, his lips moving to mine, kissing me so softly it flutters in my chest.
“God damn, Sophie,” he hisses my name and it spikes through me, ripping through my tight, empty core, leaving me unabashedly eager, and dripping wet. He takes my hand and wraps it around his straining shaft, the veins roped around, pulsating and hungry. He guides my hand up, then down, up, then slowly down, squeezing my hand as we twist around the root. His eyes are heavy, watching me stroke him, guiding me in his pleasure, igniting my own. I uncoil my fingers and graze his heavy balls, pulling at them as he slides our hands back up his rock hard shaft. His eyes flutter and he hisses through gritted teeth. “Look at what you’ve done to me, Beautiful. I have been hard for days.”