Ultimate Sins

by Lora Leigh

Amelia, shy: Even as a virgin she hadn’t hesitated to give him whatever he demanded of her. Hell, just six weeks before she had nearly allowed him to have her on that damned counter in the kitchen.

  Why hadn’t he noticed this then?

  His gaze lowered to that shadow again.

  Had she actually had her soft flesh inked? And if she had, why was she hesitant to let him see it?

  Moving, he stretched out on the bed beside her, his fingers going to the band of her panties. Before he could push the elasticized silk lower, her hand was there to stop him.

  She covered the shadow with her fingers as she drew her lower lip between her teeth indecisively.

  “You know I’m going to see what it is,” he told her softly. “Why are you trying to hide it?”

  A frown edged at her brow. “You weren’t supposed to pay attention to it.”

  He had to laugh a bit at that. “Baby, anything that’s touched your sweet flesh has great interest to me, especially if it’s permanent. I’m a damned jealous man, remember?”

  So jealous, it had been all she could do to keep him from revealing their affair each weekend, seven years before.

  “Just turn the lights out,” she demanded, her brow wrinkling as he pushed at her hand.

  Crowe only shook his head before catching her wrist in his hand and pulling it effortlessly over her head, along with the other wrist, and holding them captive.

  He didn’t glance back up at her, but let his fingers stroke the silken flesh above the band of her panties.

  “When did you have it done?” he asked. The thought of the mark below the material had his dick aching with greater intensity.

  “The day before I married—” A hard breath eased from her lips as his fingers touched the dampness of her panties before she could utter that despicable name.

  A moan whispered from her lips instead as he gazed from the moisture-soaked crotch of her panties back to the edge of that intriguing little shadow.

  God, he was dying to see it, yet a part of him was terrified of what it could be.

  She had gotten a tattoo the day before she married. He knew there wasn’t a chance the inked brand had any significance to Stoner Wright. What then had been so important to her?

  Slowly, his gaze trained on the area, Crowe pulled the band of her panties lower, his breath catching, his jaw locking at the first sight of his wily, impossibly imaginative Amelia.

  How long it must have taken to complete that tattoo. But she had done it. There, inked on her delicate flesh, sat a pretty, forlorn little fairy, chin propped on delicate arms that lay across her knees, glaring out at the world. Daring the watcher, determined in her stubborn refusal to relent—

  Or daring them to breach the silken material of her panties.

  “My fairy-girl,” he whispered, brushing his fingers over the colorful little tattoo. “Always mine.”

  “That wasn’t for you,” she protested unconvincingly, though the slight moan in her voice as his finger trailed to her thigh spoiled the power of the statement. “I liked fairies before you ever called me that.”

  And she had. That first time he’d had her had been the night of the county’s fantasy-themed social weekend.

  “And what a beautiful little fairy you made,” he breathed out, his gaze lifting to her once again as that particular memory only made his cock harder. “You were especially beautiful, spread out in the moonlight, the material of that pretty fairy dress hiked above your hips as I ate your fairy pussy.”

  The blunt, explicit words had heat washing across her face as he stared back at her, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

  “Crowe, that’s raw,” she berated him, breathless now as his fingers stroked closer to the slick, waxed folds of her glistening sex.

  “You waxed for me then, too, didn’t you, Amelia?” he whispered. “The only curls you left were these right here.”

  His fingers feathered across the soft fluff on her mound, just above her clit.

  “For me,” she stated, a moan leaving her lips as her hips jerked upward at the feather-light stroke of his fingers above the swollen, naked inner lips.

  “Lie to yourself if you have to, fairy-girl,” he teased, then his expression stilled, his gaze caught by that damned, defiant little fairy inked into her flesh. He whispered, “So sweet. So damned pretty.”

  He wasn’t surprised that he’d never found a woman who could compare to her. No other woman had ever made him feel the things Amelia made him feel, or made him burn as she made him burn.

  Laying a heated kiss along her thigh he moved between her legs, slowly spreading them before easing himself into position to taste the swollen, lush flesh he’d dreamed of tasting again.

  * * *

  Amelia watched, barely able to breathe. Heat washed through her senses, anticipation flooding her bloodstream.

  Finally, oh God, finally—

  Her back arched, her feet digging into the bed to lift herself closer as he laid an erotic, far-too-short kiss on her sensitive flesh.

  She needed more.

  As his gaze lifted to her and the wicked intent in his expression registered, she barely had time to draw in a hard, deep breath. His tongue licked through the saturated folds, a hum of appreciation vibrating against her flesh. Crowe took instant, hungry advantage of the dampness spilling from her sex.

  Amelia’s hips jerked, pressing more firmly into the caress as his fingers parted the dewy flesh. With each rasp of his tongue over the entrance of her vagina, she felt more of the damp warmth gathering inside before it spilled to his lips. Pleasure rushed through her senses in waves, flooding every corner of her being. Nothing else mattered in this moment.

  Only this.

  Clenching her fists in the blanket beneath her, panting in rising excitement, her body burned, pulsed with sensation. Ever-deepening pleasure crashed through her. Radiant heat raced from each inch of flesh his lips and tongue caressed as the fiery ache for more began to build inside the depths of her vagina.

  “Crowe!” she gasped moments later as his lips covered her clit in a teasing kiss.

  Spikes of imperative ecstasy shot through the sensitive bud, nearly sending her spiraling into chaos.

  So close.

  A keening wail of pleasure tore from her lips as she felt herself reaching for the sensual peak, only to have him pull back.

  “Please, Crowe, please,” she begged.

  That edge of rapture taunted her, just out of reach.

  “Oh, sugar elf, how I intend to please you,” he groaned, laying a gentle kiss on her clit before moving lower, before destroying her senses.

  His tongue licked, stroked, rimmed her sensitive entrance. When she was certain she couldn’t bear it another second he sent it pushing forcefully into the clenched, gripping tissue in a thrust that nearly pushed her into the flames of rapture.

  The first time he had penetrated her with the wicked thrust of his tongue, she had just turned eighteen. The shocking caress, the pure carnality of it had thrown her into her first explosive climax.

  Now the erotic kiss had her burning for more, aching, needing a deeper, harder caress. She was no longer content to accept mere carnality. She wanted that erotic pain, that sweet, fiery lush sensation that melded ecstasy and agony into a blinding kaleidoscope of dark, vicious rapture.

  She wanted what she had never had.

  She wanted that part of him that she knew he held back from her seven years ago.

  “You’re killing me, Crowe. Please stop teasing…” The demand was fueled by a certainty that whatever sensation her body was begging for, Crowe could deliver. His tongue retreated, his hungry lips moved to the throbbing bud of her clit, but still he teased.

  Swollen, pulsing with need, the bundle of nerves ached and throbbed with such desperation that the quick, firm little kisses he bestowed on it weren’t nearly enough.

  Those kisses tormented her.

  The hungry licks and quick thrusts only made sensation and the rising pu
lses of near orgasm radiant with fiery longing. She couldn’t bear it. She would never find her release, never explode with all the burning power she could feel building inside her.

  Her hips writhed uncontrollably. She fought for a sensation she had no idea how to attain. A hunger for a pleasure she had no idea how to ask for burned through her senses. She feared she would be burned alive in the flames.

  * * *

  Sensing the roiling need surging through her body, Crowe increased the pressure of the lashing licks against the most sensitive area of her clitoris and almost growled in satisfaction.

  It wasn’t enough for her.

  She needed more, he could feel it. All that trapped carnal hunger he’d sensed burning inside her seven years ago was now clawing to be free.

  Her body was silently begging for more. The cries falling from her lips were a demand for more. The heat radiating from her flesh, reaching out for him, assured him she was now ready for more.

  Her hips lifted to him, grinding the fiercely swollen bud of her clit harder against his lips and tongue as her body shuddered with the rising demands.

  Oh little fairy-girl, just let me show you what you need.

  The thought faded beneath the discovery of more of the slick, thick feminine sweetness spilling from her pussy. It coated the swollen, parted inner lips, spilled down the silken cleft, and laid a layer of natural lubrication over the tiny, puckered entrance between her buttocks.

  God, he’d dreamed of this.

  His hand lifted from one hip, drew back just a bit, then fell to land against the soft, rounded curve of her rear in an erotic, heated caress. A precursor to all he intended to give her.

  Her hips jerked. A cry echoed around him as she bucked against him, pushing her clit against the tight heat of his mouth as he suckled it inside.

  He’d been dying to give her this. Dreamed of taking her with all the dark eroticism he’d hesitated to unleash on her seven years ago. Tender and so innocent, he’d been certain he’d terrify her with the hunger tormenting him. She’d been too young. Her senses had been too innocent.

  She wasn’t eighteen anymore.

  She was a woman. His woman. And just as she now ached for the dark sexuality inside him, he’d ached for seven years to give it to her.

  * * *

  The light, heated little slap against her bottom as Crowe’s lips sucked her clit into the burning heat of his mouth sent a hard, rolling wave of sensation tearing through her.

  That edge of long-awaited, only barely perceived hunger burned brighter now.

  The next heavy caress landed harder, stilling the frantic roll of her hips.

  “Like that, sugar elf?” he growled. “Or this?”

  His lips released her.

  “No. Don’t stop.” She tried to reach for him, her eyes flaring open, the sudden desertion driving spikes of clenched desperate need through her clit and into her womb.

  The hand that landed on her buttocks laid a heated caress over the mound of her pussy.

  Amelia froze.

  Eyes wide, she stared back at him as that firm caress exploded against her slick, wet flesh. A breath later it pierced her clit with enough force to drop her back to the bed, her back bowing, pleasure suddenly exploding through her senses with the force of an erotic tidal wave.

  It tore through her. It ravaged her senses and caused her hips to jerk upward as a breathless cry exploded from her lips.

  “Fuck.”

  She barely heard the exclamation as it fell from Crowe’s lips. One second she was shuddering in a peak of such agonizing need she wondered if she’d survive it. In the next a strangled scream parted her lips at the heavy, blunt force parting the intimate entrance and thrusting several inches inside the gripping channel of her vagina.

  Amelia forced her eyes open once again in time to direct her gaze between her thighs.

  Crowe’s hard hands gripped the cheeks of her rear, arching her to him as he drew back, pulling the length of his cock from her. Her juices glistened on the hard flesh that sank inside her. Slick, coating the heavy width, lubricating it for—

  The next heavy thrust speared to the depths of her vagina, forcing apart the tight muscles and delicate flesh and throwing her headlong into the dark, erotic pain she’d never realized she needed.

  “More.” She could barely gasp out the word. “Please. More.”

  * * *

  Buried full-length inside her, Crowe fought the need tightening his balls, the release threatening to escape his control, and clenched his teeth to hold back just a little longer.

  There was no latex separating them. He was inside her, bare, the snug grip of her pussy rippling around his flesh, milking at the iron-hard shaft of his cock.

  He’d forgotten to use a condom only once in his life, that first time he’d taken her. He hadn’t forgotten it before, nor since.

  Until now.

  Until the need to feel her, hot, slick, and naked around his shaft overrode his normal caution.

  Drawing back, his gaze trained on the pleasure radiating through her expression, Crowe fought and failed to free himself. Instead he pushed inside her again, her cries echoing around him as the fist-tight grip she had on him drew a hard groan from his chest and obliterated the last ounce of reason he’d possessed.

  * * *

  Hard, driving thrusts pierced her flesh, each forceful thrust inside the depths of her pussy pushing her closer, burning deeper as he came over her. His elbow braced at her shoulder; the other hand slid between her buttocks, his fingers finding the hidden entrance of her rear.

  She was holding on to him now, her nails digging into his flesh as a heated pressure began to push against that forbidden entrance.

  The blunt pressure of his finger penetrating, stretching her, sent spikes of fiery sensation to rake over nerve endings far too sensitive. It was pleasure. Pain. Agony and ecstasy.

  “Yes.” Lifting to him, crying out for him, that sharp edge of bliss clawed at her, raking talons of sensation dragging her into chaos.

  Pushing inside her, stroking overly sensitive, overly responsive nerve endings, he penetrated the ultra-snug entrance. Each shallow thrust buried his finger deeper, took more of her as his cock stroked hard, deep, into the violently aroused tissue of her pussy.

  First one finger stretched her, then a second. Hard, pistoning thrusts of his cock drove her higher through the swirling sensations. Each alternate thrust of his fingers pierced her with a dark excitement, that painful edge of pleasure.

  Each piercing, stretching thrust of his erection inside her pussy pushed her relentlessly, mercilessly along that sharp edge of bliss bordering agony.

  “That’s it, baby,” he whispered at her ear as she fought to take him harder, deeper, her hips writhing beneath him. “Fuck me, little fairy. Sweet, sweet Amelia. God, I love fucking your tight little pussy.”

  She exploded.

  The words, punctuated with the hard thrusts of his fingers inside her anus, and the blinding, stretching thrusts that parted her vagina, overloaded her senses.

  Pleasure gathered, tightened, then released inside her in such a wave of blinding, burning sensation that every particle of her body, her mind, her soul, became filled with it.

  It radiated. It seared her senses and burned through her soul, jerking her against him, shuddering through her with such chaotic ecstasy she wondered—for a moment—if she had died.

  She knew for a fact it changed her.

  The question was: How had it changed her, and would she survive it?

  CHAPTER 7

  What the fuck had happened?

  Lying still and silent before dawn began peeking over the mountains, Crowe stared into the moonlit night outside the balcony doors, directly across from Amelia’s bed.

  It wasn’t the first time he’d been here.

  The room as well as the bed.

  Once, long ago, he’d taken her here, in her bed, after slipping onto her balcony, then into her room.

 
; He’d kissed her awake that night. Covering her lips with his hand as she came in his arms, he’d buried his face in her hair and given himself to the pleasure he’d been certain couldn’t have been as destructive as he’d thought it was the first time.

  He’d been wrong.

  Then as well as now.

  Now, because he’d been certain, once again, it couldn’t have been as good as he’d remembered. And he was right. It was so much better than he’d remembered that it defied description.

  “You’re quiet.”

  The sound of her voice, soft in the darkness, should have surprised him, but hell, he’d known she was awake. He was aware of her now in a way he hadn’t been seven years before. So aware of her that for precious moments as his release met hers, he’d been certain they’d been a part of each other.

  “Just thinking,” he finally answered. “I thought you were asleep.”

  Her head lifted from his chest, her hair caressing his flesh like living silk.

  Watching, he was struck, not for the first time, just how fae she seemed sometimes. Far too delicate and tiny against him, yet pulsing with some unknown magic he couldn’t decipher. A magic that mesmerized him, even as it eluded him.

  That was the power she had over him, and it was damned dangerous. Not just for his peace of mind, but also for her safety as well as his family’s.

  She stared down at him, those pretty turquoise eyes somber and far, far too knowing.

  “Just say it,” she whispered, resigned pain echoing in her voice.

  The soft demand had his eyes narrowing on her, a chill racing up his spine.

  “Say what?”

  “What you came here to say.” Holding the sheet to her breasts, her gaze pierced him clear to his soul. The thought left him feeling a bit off balance.

  God, where was that ice that had shielded him for the past seven years? In the space of the time he’d been buried balls-deep inside her, he swore the heat of her hunger had melted it.

  “You didn’t deserve this life,” he sighed.

  Her laugh was soft, and filled with such bitterness he wanted to strike out at the world for the pain that had created it.

  “No, Crowe,” she retorted. “It’s you, Logan, and Rafer who didn’t deserve it. It was the women you could have loved, the lives you could have had, the happiness and joy that was stolen from all your parents. That was undeserved, yet inflicted anyway. It was so undeserved that I’m wondering how you could bring yourself to be here in his daughter’s bed.”