Whisper (The Voice trilogy Book 1)

by Noelle Bodhaine

  “When I want something, I take it.” His lips move across my shoulders before I can protest, a low feral moan rising in his chest. Disarmed by his moan of approval my face breaks into a lip splitting smile. I cannot help it. He has charmed me so easily, and now he wants more. “Mm, there we go, I love that smile, Sophie.” A wolfish grin paints his face. “Now, will you let me have my way?”

  “How can you be so sweet and threatening at the same time?”

  “You are sweet,” he teases, licking his lips salaciously. “I am selfish. Believe me. Just say you will stay, or I will tie you up.” If only he knew how deeply that small, innocent threat pulled at the recesses of my weary mind. “Stay.”

  “I am booked on a flight tomorrow. I can’t afford to change it.”

  “Stay,” he insists.

  “How can you break your own rules so easily? Perhaps after a little sleep you may change your mind. I am not interested in becoming an unwanted guest or worse, some pathetic hanger-on.” This knocks him off balance, a noticeable shudder runs down his spine and he stills. “I’m not as fickle as all that, Sophie. Do you really think so little of me that I could turn like that?”

  “I just don’t want to end up regretting this.”

  “Alright, I can respect that.” Clearly exasperated by my bargaining and curiosity his head falls back, and he gazes at the emerging stars.

  “What if I refuse?”

  “I will cancel your flight personally, and tie you up so tight that you can’t escape for a month.” There is an edge, a promise in his eyes that sends a chill down my spine. “So what will it be, Beautiful, two days, or a month of bondage?” I cannot help but crack a wide smile at him, completely entranced by his proposition, by the promise of more time, more pleasure, more Rhys. “Good, that’s settled. Now bring that foxy ass back to bed.” And with a casual ease, he puts the whole thing to rest, leading me below deck, my throat cooled by the water, my craving satiated by the shared cigar, and my body ready for another ride.

  Chapter 14

  My head rests perfectly in the spot made for me under Rhys' arm, my legs wound around his, my arm flung heavily across his sun warmed chest. I can’t help myself from running my fingers down his torso, my fingertips skipping over each ripple of perfectly chiseled muscle. His chest gently rises and falls with each long, sleepy breath. Here he lies, next to me, in a rumpled, torn bed. On a yacht! The thought is intoxicating, that I could affect him in such a base way. He looks peaceful, non-intimidating, and tempting. I reach out to pull at the sheet that teases me, slipping away from his powerful thigh, when he catches me in his grip. His long fingers wound tightly around my wrist, with a quiet force that resonates right down to my toes. A growl rumbles in his chest and he pulls me closer, cradling me against him. He has my hands folded in front of me, firmly in his grip. Caged by his hands and body, I lay still against his chest and listen as his heart rate forms a hypnotic rhythm.

  “Not ready to wake up, this feels too good. Ten more minutes,” his gravelly whisper rattles in my ear, echoes in my loins and I am of the same mind, yet I know our peace is about to be shattered by the post wedding brunch and Olivia and Matthew’s departure.

  “What about brunch? And the crew is probably pacing outside our door. I am sure they need to get the cabin ready for Olivia and Matthew before they leave, right?” He groans and pulls me tighter.

  “Alright, alright.” A feather light kiss to the back of my neck sends a delicious shiver down my spine before he flips me over and kisses me until my head swims. “I’m up.” Taking my breath with him, he hops out of bed and pulls a duffel bag from the wardrobe. “Here.” He tosses me a flowered Lily Pulitzer sundress from my luggage. I look at him in question, but he answers before I can ask. “I had a bag made up for us, I hope that’s ok?”

  “So, now you are dressing me?” I tease, as he pulls on a pair of blue Dockers and a crisp white shirt.

  “They are your clothes. I just picked one of the half a dozen dresses from your bag. Just get dressed. I have to check with the crew, make sure they are prepared for departure. I will meet you on deck.” He leans in and kisses my forehead before slapping my ass and he is out the door.

  ***

  I stand and watch the boat pull away from the dock. One last wave to Olivia and Matthew as Rhys shows the last of the guests out to the drive and a fleet of waiting cars. By the time the last guest is out the door it is almost four in the afternoon. Stillness fills the house for the first time, and it dawns on me, standing in his empty house. We are alone, this is happening. A ripple of anticipation and nerves slithers down my spine. How will we fill the next two days? “Sophie.” His warm honey voice flows through me, pulling me from my thoughts. He stands right before me, yet I must have been looking right through him, lost in my own debauched head, considering the possibilities. “Are you hungry?” He runs his finger down the length of my arm.

  “No.” I shake my head and lock eyes with him. All day long I have wanted to peel those clothes right off of him. He is the picture of casual class and style in his slacks and white dress shirt, deceptively gentlemanly. Yet, beneath lurks a sexual animal of a caliber I have never known. A slight grin turns his mouth.

  “Are you tired?” he teases. I just shake my head and fight back a smile. What I want is him, spread out naked beneath me, or me beneath him. “You want to go to bed.” The dark twinkle in his eye says he knows my reply, and was not asking.

  “Yes.” Raising an eyebrow, his wicked tongue swipes across his bottom lip and my eyes grow wider.

  “Oh, this is going to be fun.” His crooked grin pulls at something deep within me. With his palm on the small of my back, he guides me slowly up the stairs. “After you.”

  “Take that damn dress off.” The edge in his voice is new, and urgent. Something about the way he touches me, the way he speaks to me. I do as he asks without a thought, without hesitation. He knows. He makes me feel like I don’t have to think. I just want to feel, to feel him. I let my dress fall to the floor and step out of it. Rhys steps in front of me, dropping to his knees.

  He is the picture of carnal elegance on his knees, I relish the sight. I look down into his eyes to see myself reflected in them. He is waiting for me. I reach out to his shirt I undo the top button, spreading his collar open, running my finger along his collarbone, along the delicate gold chain at his throat. Every part of him is so masculine. Chiseled and hard, like stone. As I move my fingers from button to button, he watches with shallow breaths. I rake my nails across his chest, pushing the shirt open to revel in the beauty of his skin, scattered with dark hair. He runs his hands up the back of my bare legs, searing my skin with the fire in the tips of his fingers. Hooking his thumbs in the delicate lace around my hips, he slides them down my legs, leaving me exposed. All the while he remains cloaked in fine clothes.

  I stand before him, alive, aware and aching with anticipation. He kneels before me, his erection straining at the front of his crisp slacks, raking me over with his intense eyes, taking in every nude curve, every soft dimple. I stand before him naked and needy while he remains the picture of gentlemanly class. Yet I know there is nothing gentlemanly about what he is about to do to me. What I want him to do to me.

  He buries his nose between my thighs, running his face along my heat slicked flesh, breathing me in deeply, a salacious grin tugging at his full lips. It is so dirty, so damn hot. I am already damp and hyper aware of myself. He looks into my eyes, rocking back onto his heels.

  “This is all up to you, Beautiful.” I waver under his scrutiny, swaying before I regain my balance. Sure that I want this, but tongue tied and twisted, I cannot find the words. My flesh is on fire, my heart leaping in my chest and my pussy is wet and waiting. “I kneel before you a starving man, Sophie. Feed me. Please.”

  I swallow the last vestige of doubt, knowing that I want his mouth on me. I need it more than air. Without hesitation, I surrender to the deep growling need within me. I close my eyes, let my head fall
back and press my hips in his hands. In an instant his hands are heavy around my waist, a deep growl erupts from his chest and he tosses me backwards onto the large bed; every inch of animal hovers over me, hungry and excited. I drip with anticipation, his lustful aggression fueling the wanton trollop inside of me. He makes me feel alive, on fire. I am sexy, confident under his tutelage, able and so eager to learn.

  He wraps his hands around my ankles and slowly pulls me towards the foot of the bed. I sit up to see him kneeling at my feet, his eyes full of carnal lust, his lips wet and swollen. It is all very familiar. His eyes are tentative, waiting for permission. I reach down and push the linen shirt and vest off his broad shoulders, running my fingernails up the back of his neck through his coarse hair. He closes his eyes and releases a deep moan, leaning his head into my waiting hands. Urgency clouds my vision as our eyes meet and lock in an erotic knot. My breasts fall free and into his waiting hands. He kneads and squeezes the heavy flesh, his finger and thumb twisting and pulling at my little pink nipples, making them pointed and hard. He leans in and takes one breast into his mouth, rolling my hard nub around with his long tongue. He nips at me with his teeth and looks to me.

  “Aahh.” He pulls my nipple between his teeth, and then begins to knead and pull at my flesh with his other hand.

  “Spread your legs, Beautiful,” he whispers. Slowly he pushes me back onto the bed and sinks back to his knees, his hot breath tickling the inside of my already warm thigh. His hands sit firmly on the inside of each knee, slowly pushing my legs wider. I am open and splayed before him, exposed and unsure. Yet he looks as if he is gazing upon a masterpiece. The reverence in his eyes surely should be reserved for some Renaissance painting or beautiful sculpture. Yet he looks at me with those appreciative eyes, alight with anticipation and worship. He pulls me to the very edge of the bed and dips his head between my splayed limbs, taking a deep breath of my scent.

  “Mm mm,” he hums, blowing a cool breath across my swollen folds; I writhe and shift my hips. “Don’t move,” he demands in a husky whisper. He stills me with his strong hands, wrapping one arm around my leg, resting my thigh on his shoulder, he strums my clit with his thumb and watches my face. His gaze is so intense, watching him take so much pleasure in touching me is surreal and I have to turn away. I close my eyes and let every movement wash over me. “That’s it, Beautiful, just lie back and enjoy.”

  He continues to strum my clit as he dips a finger into my waiting sex. “Oh, you are so wet already, Sophie.” My name drips off his tongue like honey. He slips two fingers in and begins to pump in and out, building rhythm while he presses on my clit with his thumb. The knots in my body tighten in response to the building release, my hips sway of their own accord. I press against his hand, begging for more, raising my hips off the bed, lifting myself into his palm, wantonly waving my pussy in his face. I feel an orgasm building as he puts more pressure on that bundle of frantic nerves, slowly pushing his middle finger between my folds and massaging me, warming me up, making slow methodical circles.

  His hands continue their ministrations and my head is swirling in a torrent of heat and pleasure. An explosion is building more intense than anything I have ever felt, my body is no longer my own, moving on its own accord, responding to every move he makes. His finger hooks and rubs a spot I have never felt, sending a shock wave through me. He lowers his head and gently begins to kiss and tease me with his mouth, licking and nibbling my most sensitive spot. Around and around his tongue swirls as his fingers push me higher. He blows onto my hot, wet flesh and then plunges his tongue inside of me, pushing and sucking the nectar he has coaxed. Into a million pieces my world shatters, my body humming and pulsing, waves rippling through me. Blood pounds in my ears as my body convulses in his hands. Slowly he lets me down; pulling his fingers from my sex he looks at me with dark eyes, licks his lips and sucks my juice from his fingertips. I am shocked and gasp in response, as a wicked, crooked grin spreads across Rhys’ triumphant face.

  He climbs my body like a lithe predator admiring his subdued prey. He hovers above me as I slowly come down, shudders rolling through me still, rocking my limbs and stealing my breath. I look up into his eyes just as he thrusts into me and gasps in pleasure as his eyes roll back. He doesn’t hold back, pushing himself to the hilt, burying himself within my still quivering sex. I stretch and mold around him, feeling the delicious burn of his large cock ripping me open.

  “Oh. My. God, Rhys,” I moan as he sets a steady pace, rocking back and forth, in and out. He pulls back till just the tip of his throbbing rod sits at the base of my lips. He rocks his hips; shallow thrusts make me needy as his tip dips in and out of my swollen folds. A storm builds deep in my body, spreading like flood waters, threatening to drown me in pleasure.

  “Oh please!” I gasp. Wanting more, needing the full length of him buried deep in my core. “Please Rhys.” He teases me, watching me writhe as he slowly moves back and forth. “Harder!” I beg.

  “Yes!” he roars before slamming into me, filling me to the hilt, our hips crashing with explosive force. “That’s it Beautiful, talk to me.” His frantic pace ignites a series of explosions that ring deep in my blood and steal my senses. “Pull your knees up!” he roars. I grasp the back of my knees and pull them to my ears just as he rears up and slams into me with such force that our bodies converge in a crushed and tangled knot, writhing and grinding against one another. My body is alive with the echo of his assault humming in my veins. He slowly pulls back, leaving me wanting, aching for another. I whimper and that wickedly sexy, crooked grin pulls at his mouth, his eyes tease, and a devious sparkle betrays his intention. He slams into me again, and again, filling me, crushing him to me, every time, driving harder and deeper, taking more and more for himself. His eyes watch me, intent on witnessing my inevitable undoing, the undoing he is driving me towards, with every hot thrust. His hands pressed firmly against the back of my thighs, pinning me down, making me crazy, and greedy. I want more. I want him to climb inside of me, to fill me. I cannot take another minute, but I cannot stand the thought of him stopping.

  He watches me come undone under the relentless onslaught from his powerful jack hammer hips. I don’t think I am even in my body. Sophie left the room while some nymph is getting her brains fucked out by the god of sex himself. I watch myself scream for mercy and beg for more, completely out of control. Thrashing about as much as his strong hands will allow, unsure I can absorb anymore. I cannot keep still, my body is no longer my own, skipping on a note. I am barely aware as he empties himself in one deep and final thrust, his neck craned to the ceiling, eyes screwed tightly shut, growling through gritted teeth.

  “Sophie!” He stills and drops to his forearms, resting his weight on my humming body. I look up into his eyes while my body slowly returns to earth. My legs are clamped on his shoulders, my hands tangled in a fistful of sheet and my own hair. The weight of his body, his heart pounding through his flesh pull me back to earth, back into his arms. I clench around him, unwilling and unable to release my stranglehold on him. He lies on top of me spent, sweaty, and panting. He winces as a gentle spasms roll through me, he releases my legs, and they fall to his sides, leaden and worn. Rolling onto his side he pulls me into his chest, pulling the sheet over us both. I lay, speechless against the soft, sticky hair on his chest and listen to his heart. The rhythm is familiar and comfortable. Like a lullaby. Caressing my heated skin, his fingers run up and down the back of my arm. My skin is littered with goose bumps, and streaks of heat that radiate from the trails he draws. I feel unable to speak, or move. I just lay in his arms, our breathing and mingled heart beats the only sound in the room.

  His large room is bathed in a soft pink light from the sinking sun. The bed is in disarray, rumpled sheets and blankets scattered like remnants from a storm. Pillows tossed all over the dark mahogany floor, and I am spent. I hardly had a moment to look around before we fell back into bed, and got lost. I hardly have the strength to lift my head from t
he mattress to peruse my surroundings. The large bed sits squarely in the middle of a room that is larger than my entire apartment. A sitting area of chairs too nice to sit in circles the large bay window that lends the fading light. I roll my head around, more than a little delirious to see Rhys and his sparkling green eyes. Propped up on his elbow, he eyes me shrewdly, watching me slowly regain consciousness. A bolt of lightning strikes through me as he reaches out and grazes my shoulder with his strong fingers, I flinch, blinking up at him for a moment, floating in a soundless chasm, my body totally shut down. And he just smiles.

  “Earth to Sophie.” I close my eyes tightly, willing the world to return, for my mind to return to planet earth. When I open them I get my wish. The faint sounds of Rhys breathing and my own pounding heart, tickle my ears and I have returned to the land of the living, or rather to the land of the obscenely wealthy and bored. I roll to my side, pulling a sheet with me and wrap myself in it as I stare into the eyes of a man who just so thoroughly undid me, I can hardly form a coherent thought. All I can do is smile.

  “You ok? I lost you there for a minute.” He grins, knowing full well the answer. I just shake my head and take a deep, cleansing breath. I don’t want to come back down. “I’m going to get us a drink. You just lay there and look beautifully spent,” he teases, hopping out of bed like a lithe cat.