Lies That Blind

by Diana Rose Wilson

  She stretched up as the dress pulled off her body, unveiling her pale, freckled skin with all the marks and scars earned from her fighting and the stain of wine. He regarded her with obvious admiration, as though he thought she was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen. All her hard edges, small breasts tipped with tight, nutmeg-colored nipples.

  “I need to kiss every inch of you,” he whispered, his arms wrapping around her and he rolled her onto her back and she went without resistance. This time he didn’t pin her as he lightly kissed each freckle and that mark, running his tongue along the silvery scar by her ribs.

  She felt as though he handled her with the same care he did the knife earlier. Every touch was respectful and skillful. He seemed to know that she could cut him, but he proved he knew just how to skim the edge. His warm mouth traveled down one side to her hip and back up, pausing to kiss along the swell of her breast.

  The curve of his tongue teased her nipple, and she arched sharply up in the shocking pleasure of that sensation. He smiled, uttering a low rumble growled when she writhed under the lick. “Here? You like this?” he teased and kissed between her breasts before kissing up to the peak of the other. She was whimpering and squirming by the time his lips caught the tight bud. The sensation of his warm lips around her nipple made her gasp and plead for more.

  His hand slid down between her thighs and he cupped her sex, rubbing his palm into her clit while he nibbled and bit and sucked her nipple.

  She thought she might die with the pleasure it brought her. Stars danced behind her eyes and she jerked up into the sharper bites, begging. “More. Harder. Oh, God,” she cried out, twisting back into the table, shuddering violently in pleasure as he made her come once and then again, applying harder bites, grasping her clit between his fingers. He teased and tormented her right into the heady climax.

  At last, he nuzzled against the side of her breast, kissing the burning mark his teeth left, blowing cool breath against the spot as his larger body curled around hers.

  She must have drifted off because she woke to darkness, her head pillowed in the silky hair on his chest, breathing in the primal scent of him and hearing the steady pulse of his heart in her ear.

  When she stirred, his fingers stroked along her hair, across the back of her neck and trailed lazily over her shoulders, petting circles and swirls to the limit of his arm before moving back up again. The low rumble of approval vibrated under her ear and she cuddled closer into him, tightening her hold on the handful of chest hair and curved the other arm around him.

  Just in case he had thoughts of bolting.

  She felt his laugh tremble through him, his kisses placed to her brow and crown of her head. “I’m not going anywhere. Well, I might need to adjust soon. I think there’s a fork in my back.” He made no attempt to move. “Not yet. Please stay. You smell so fucking good.”

  “Fireworks?” she asked, letting her eyes close.

  He mmed in agreement and his lips brushed her temple this time. “So fucking good.”

  She released the grip, stroking her fingertips down from chest to stomach, enjoying the way his muscles tightened under her light caress. Almost ticklish, sensitive to her touch. Her palm tingled where it brushed his skin and he gasped when her hand reached his groin.

  She looked up at him when her palm cupped his cock. Hard didn’t even begin to describe him. Arched steel filled her hand and his hips shifted from side to side. A mixture of sweetest suffering, longing and desire filled those wild green eyes. “Frankie, you don’t have to if you—”

  “You mean I can’t touch you? Are you being shy? Or do you not want me to feel you?”

  His lashes swept down over his gaze and he bit back a shuddering moan. “I did not expect… I mean… What I did was because I wanted to, not because I…uh…” He gasped when she squeezed him and shuddered. “I will come in my fucking boxers if you keep that up.”

  She was the one who felt shy as she whispered into his chest, “I want to see you. Fully naked. You’ve seen me.”

  He shifted, sitting up with his arms around her, drawing her with him. “Then see you shall. And, do with me as you please.” He pushed to his feet, lifting her with him, but turned to set her down and stepped back to admire her, grinning.

  She looked at herself, feeling the blush at the marks he’d left on her. She was not ashamed. No, she felt proud of them. Hell, she’d earned the rest of her scars fighting. She really wanted to wear a scar from loving him. Not just these little nips but something…deeper.

  “You okay?” he asked quietly.

  When she looked up, she saw the admiration and concern flickering in his eyes, dancing in the darkness. “Oh, yes. It’s…really hot.”

  The tightness eased from his shoulders. He pulled open his belt and then unfastened his button and zipper, pushing the slacks and the boxers beneath aside with the casual ease of someone comfortable being naked.

  Like his chest, his legs were strong, muscled and covered in that dark hair. His cock stood out before him, an upward curve with a fat girth and crown glistening with his desire for her. With a twinkle in his eye, he turned to give a view of the backside, making the slow spin to face her again.

  His hands were clasped behind him at the small of his back, legs a little apart.

  “All right,” she said, chewing back the smile.

  “All right?” His face fell and he looked down at himself, head tipped slightly.

  She crossed to him but he kept his chin tucked to his chest, looking down at himself. The glorious length of his cock twitched in response to her nearness. “You know you’re fucking good enough to eat,” she whispered, cupping his cheek, pushing her thumb into the dimple when he grinned.

  “So…I’ll do?” he asked, playing shy, rocking his hips very slowly forward, not quite touching her.

  “Maybe,” she teased, pressing in closer. Her body fit perfectly to his, edges to edges. Pressing his cock up against her belly, she trapped him there against her. “I don’t think I can tell by just looks alone.”

  “Oh dear.” He searched her eyes. “You are a devil,” he moaned, shivering as he cupped her face in his hands. “How might I prove my worth? I’m afraid I’m going to fucking explode right now, Sunkist.” His voice shook with barely restrained need.

  “You say the sweetest things.” She rubbed herself up against him, toes curling when he groaned. It was delicious feeling the pulse run through his cock as it bucked against her skin.

  He felt amazing.

  “Frankie, please,” he gasped and held her gaze, begging with his eyes as well as words. “Mercy, sweet lady.”

  “Don’t hold back,” she whispered and reached between her body and his, wrapping her fingers around him, slowly stroking up. Lost in the feel of him, like silk wrapped in steel. The pulse of him thrummed through into her palm as she squeezed. “I want to see you.”

  He leaned back, just slightly. She could still press into his side, but also see her hand caressing down his length. He ran his finger along her lower lip, gazing at her while she watched where she stroked over him. The crown of his cock was flushed so dark, the length of him lighter than the rest of his body.

  The most gorgeous man she’d ever met had the most glorious cock. She wanted to worship it with every inch of her body until he was begging her for real mercy.

  “Frankie,” he growled out her name. “I’m—right there. I’m…so…fucking…close…”

  He held her tight as his hips jerked forward, rocking up into her fist. One hand gripped her shoulder; the other brushed her jaw as he shuddered. The broken sound of pleasure he made when he came was a snarling roar of release.

  His cum shot high up her body, streaking across her breast and shoulder, the next fountain of cum struck her neck and her chin and cheek. She stroked him, squeezed him, fingers trembling in desire at the raw passion and pleasure she felt and saw in every inch of his body.

  When her eyes lifted to his, he was staring at her with lips par
ted, gasping for breath, body moving in time with her stroking until she stilled her fingers around his base, squeezing around him, holding him.

  “I think…I might be dreaming,” he whispered, leaning down to brush a soft kiss to her lips. “An angel just gave me the most amazing fucking hand job.”

  “I’m no angel, baby,” she teased him and returned the kiss, grinning.

  “Yes. You fucking are. Fucking Fire Goddess,” he answered before looking past her. His nose crinkled as he glanced at the meal only partly eaten.

  He picked her up, settled her into his lap, reached for the napkin and carefully cleaned his cum from her between kisses.

  Then, as he cuddled her as though she were a small, delicate creature, he fed her little bites from the plate that managed not to spill during their playing.

  “So, tell me what it is?” she asked, taking the fork from him and offering him a bite. She felt him stir under her and she blushed.

  “It’s hare,” he said, only after taking the bite. He reached up and rubbed his thumb at the corner of her mouth, grinning at her.

  “Hare and quail?” She pursed her lips but couldn’t focus more on the meal because he rocked his hips under her and… Oh, there was a solid, eager nudge against her ass that made her squirm almost out of his arms.

  “Yes. Oh, don’t be afraid, bunny.” He chuckled, lightly restraining her though not gripping too tight. Putting aside the fork, he nibbled along her shoulder, pressing into several of the earlier bites where the bruise thrummed hot through her.

  “I’m no bunny, baby.”

  “You’re right, Fire Goddess. Turn around. Face me, beautiful?” The words were punctuated by a pulse of his cock, trapped against her, thickening.

  She shivered and obeyed, straddling his hips, bracing her knees on either side of the chair and he eased toward her, sitting on the edge of the chair so she could hug him with her thighs and slide all the way into his lap.

  They gasped together as her sex nuzzled the base of his hardening cock. Their eyes met and held. She thought she couldn’t possibly want more, but having him like this, hot and thick against her slick pussy, she knew she needed so much more.

  He cupped her breast with one hand and her ass with the other. “You are the one in control,” he whispered, voice breaking when she arched, grinding against him. She rose up, hips rolling toward him.

  “So, I might claim you?” she asked, leaning into the hand on her breast, to push her chest into his, the tickle of the lush hair a delight against her. His heartbeat pounded solidly against her.

  He snarled with another show of teeth, shuddering under her, as though he couldn’t form the proper words. It made the fire burn through her heart—she wanted to consume him and own him and have him only fix that look on her. Rising, she rocked forward and when the head of his cock split the warmth of her, he sucked in a long, shuddering breath.

  “Oh fuck.” He gripped her hard and such a sweet expression of agony and bliss twisted his features and made his eyes flutter closed. “Frankie. Yes. Let me feel you all the way…a…” He groaned when she lowered herself onto him and for a moment, as his jaw clenched and his body rocked back, she was afraid she really had hurt him.

  She cupped his face, smoothing her thumbs over his lips before kissing him. “Tell me it’s good,” she whimpered softly. “Please…Christopher.”

  His eyes flew open and his lower lip quivered. “So…fucking good,” he growled. “You make me crazy with wanting more. More!” His hand against her ass encouraged her, the one on her breast squeezed, and his thumb swept over her nipple as another thick inch stretched her wider and slid deeper. “You feel so tight. So fucking hot.”

  She kissed him, whimpering as she lowered herself onto him fully and felt his body rock upward to meet her. It hurt in the best way. It sent the pang up through her, spreading warmth up her thighs as she took him in completely. She felt branded by him. That same roaring, bell-tolling vibration raced through her.

  Arching, she rode him, lost to the sensation, guided only by the sounds of his pleasure and the sweet, aching need curling tighter and tighter inside her. She chased the sensation, wanting him deeper, and harder, gripping his hair so she could kiss him furiously, muffling her own roar of release as she came hot and powerfully around him.

  The kiss broke as she cried out, shuddering as pleasure raged through her, driven hotter by the powerful grip of his hand against her ass, squeezing so hard, she knew she’d be bruised. Marked in the most delicious, painful way and he drove hard into her, her sex yielded to him. The pain twisted into a delicious spike of pleasure.

  He bit her shoulder when he came, snarling out her name in a broken, wild tone as he held himself deep in her. She could feel the thick throbbing, his heat mixing with hers.

  “Oh fuck. Frankie. My Frankie!” His face pressed to the spot he’d bitten, kissing, crooning soft apology for being so rough.

  “It’s fine. It’s so good. It’s perfect,” she whispered, her whole body melting into his. “You are perfect.” She kissed his forehead, sliding fingers to his shoulders, raking down his back.

  She was sweaty, boneless and utterly spent as she slumped into him and he wrapped her in his arms, pulling her close, not moving away from her.

  Time slipped out of focus. One moment she was nuzzling into the wild, crisp scent of his neck and the next dreams swept her up and took her.

  Chapter 9

  Dreams

  Frankie knelt in high grass, her palms overflowing with scarlet kernels. The seeds spilled over her fingers like rubies and tiny finches plucked the ripe offerings from her hands.

  Her palms tingled and she had the distinct impression the seeds were rooting into her skin. The sensation made a sweet, pleasurable ache spread through her, curling her toes as they sank into her flesh. She tried shaking her hands free but more tiny birds landed on her fingertips to feast.

  They all scattered in a sigh of feathers when a huge, golden raven landed on her knee. It fanned out its wings, uttering a musical chirrup.

  She tipped her hands down, letting the bird peer into the seed-covered palms, and, as she did, saw the kernels were gone, leaving behind an intricate filigree of golden threads under her skin.

  Between the fibers were black stones, ringed around the mark on her palm. The bird tipped its head and eyed the spot and then pecked her. The powerful beak grabbed a stone and pulled it free.

  A long sliver of dark glass came away from her hand. She cried out as the spike tore free of her flesh, through the muscle and skin. The bird flicked it away, shattering it upon the ground beside her.

  You are safe, the bird assured her in Intuition’s quiet, masculine voice. You are loved.

  She tried to close her hand but the raven clutched another horrible spike, tearing it free. Despite the pain, she felt better. The thorny pressure was no longer biting at her.

  All that was broken will be restored. The voice whispered, You are no longer bound. Fierce pride swept over her like a wall of fire.

  She tasted burnt sage, and her head rang as the last of the poisonous thorns came free of her hand.

  Free!

  She was free.

  She was untethered. But she couldn’t quite figure out how to fly.

  Like this… the raven told her, golden wings snapping open before it leapt into the air. When it did, the raven blurred into flames. The flaming bird spiraled upward, leaving an imprint of a single feather in the sky.

  Chapter 10

  Waffles

  She woke curled in a blanket, cuddled on the couch in a strange tangle. Weak morning sunlight was only just beginning to creep through the curtains. Stretching, a delicious ache vibrated through every muscle and down into the deepest parts of her. The memory of the long night and morning before came tumbling back and she hugged the blankets to her, smelling the cedar and sandalwood of Christopher in the bedding.

  The smile faded as she sat up, and she blinked, looking around for the man in ques
tion. He was not there. Her stomach lurched as she swung her feet off the couch and struggled to stand.

  Then she smelled something heavenly. “You are not supposed to be up yet.” Christopher’s voice drifted out of the kitchen and from that direction came the man. Naked. A cup steaming in one hand, a plate in the other. “What’s wrong, Sunkist?”

  “I thought you left,” she whispered.

  He smiled at her, heart in his eyes. “I have not been released.” The words were serious as he went to one knee before the couch. “And you have ruined me for life without you.” He sounded elated.

  “I’m sorry.” She let her legs melt out from under her, gawking at him and the meal he provided her. Waffles.

  “Sorry? Why?” He offered the drink, coffee by the smell of it.

  Her mouth dropped open. Ruin was a strong word and he looked just as strong and virile and—deliciously naked—as when he’d tangled up with her on the couch for an hour or so of sleep. “I didn’t mean to…I…um…”

  “Drink your coffee, Sunkist. You have nothing to be sorry about. You are perfect. This is just as it should be.” He settled on the floor beside her feet, holding the plate and slanting a grin up at her.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, unable to get her mind around the huge naked man at her feet. He looked so gorgeous it made her physically ache inside. But there he was, proudly showing off the marks she left on him. Scratches, bruises, bites.

  Fuck.

  He looked mauled.

  “I am spending time with my girl before I have to go to work. Tending to her feeding before I dash off. I’m a Hooligan, not a thug.”

  “Your girl? I’m no girl.”

  He mused over that, one hand holding the plate so he could stroke her leg with deft, strong fingers. “Mine,” he growled, not arguing gender titles.

  She sipped the coffee, found it better than anything she remembered tasting, and enjoyed another long drink. His. Oh yes. And that went both ways. The small ember he’d started in her ribs was a consuming force of nature now. The very thought of not touching him again was horrible to imagine.