Into Her Fantasies -- A Contemporary Romance: The Cimarrons: Royals of Arcadia Island (The Cimarron Series Book 3)

by Angel Payne

  Then impaling me all by himself…with the force of his stare. Cobalt layered with flint, daggering me, driving every beat of my heart before slicing straight to my throbbing core. Harsh, hot, ruthless. Gleaming with all the angry edges of his own pain. The control he needed to feel. The power he needed to give. The passion he needed to share.

  The escape he needed to take.

  I got it.

  I saw it.

  I showed him so.

  I reached up, skating both hands along his jaw then up higher, until I’d twined the dark luxury of his hair around my fingers. Twisted in more as I wrapped my legs tighter around him, a husky hiss escaping as his bulge slotted against my crotch. He made a sound too, a mix of breath and sound I couldn’t exactly define, but was all the more turned-on for. So many things about this man kept surprising me…I gasped again, amazed by the magnitude of it all. While I saw so much about the landscape of who he was, the nuances of that world still delighted me at every new step.

  And every shared breath…

  And every twine of heartbeats…

  And every degree of lust…

  God, yes. Especially that.

  “Lucina…”

  “Hmmm?” It sounded as dreamy as I felt. Despite how every pore of my skin felt opened and electrified at once—maybe because of that—my mind already spun, blissful and wild, somewhere between truth and fantasy. His new kiss intensified the sensation. God, how good he felt. His lips molded mine, commanding every degree of my desire. His tongue, wet and fierce, drowned me in more perfect, shivering, shaking need.

  “Creator’s mercy, you are beautiful.”

  I sighed once more, lips parting as he trailed his mouth along my jawline, down my neck. New tremors. Hotter blood. Delicious desire. And shit, we were still completely dressed.

  I let a hand trail to his nape. Turned my head enough to watch my fingers play at the ends of his hair, still damp against his neck. “You’ve gotta stop stealing my lines, mister.”

  He snorted. “That would be like me telling you not to be so much trouble.”

  I scowled. And meant it. “Trouble? What the hell?”

  “Leaving the shelter with Crista, in the middle of the storm—” His jaw tensed. I felt the tension of it back to the muscles beneath my fingers. “It was foolhardy, Lucy.”

  “Foolhardy?” A laugh spurted before I could control it. “Ohhhh, my. Of course.” Then a nod, full of pseudo sobriety. “Foolhardy.”

  “Do you prefer ‘completely stupid’?” In contrast, he wasn’t pseudo anything. Well, damn. Then damn, as he angled up long enough to grab my hand and slam it back down to the bed, next to my head. “Perhaps a ‘shit-for-brains-move’?” he spat. “How about just ‘dipstick dumb’?”

  “All right,” I snapped. “I got it, I got it.” But when I jerked against his hold, his grip was as tight as double padlocks. Instantly, my system reacted by declaring war on itself. While my sex pulsed and clenched, at once recognizing its kinky temptation, my brain fantasized about getting free and smacking him. “It wasn’t like I had a choice—”

  “You had a choice, Lucina.”

  “I had no choice!”

  “So Crista and Jayd pointed a gun and ordered you to help out?”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “Just like what you did was without a fucking brain cell.”

  Walloping him seemed a better option by the second. “So you would’ve stayed behind? Let them go out on their own?”

  “Not a relevant question.”

  “Excuse the hell out of me?”

  “Jayd is my sister, and Crista might as well be. I have known her for seven years, and employed her for the last three. I attended Forryst and Fawna’s vaftême. Their christening,” he responded to my furrowed brow, before matching the look. “Those twins are like extended family to me.”

  “But they aren’t to me.” I flung it as accusation, and wasn’t one bit sorry. “And that’s your reasoning why I should’ve sat there on my ass, and watched Crista ‘fight her own fight’?”

  His jawline turned to steel. “You are twisting my intention.”

  “Seriously?” Bitter shrug. “Seems crystal clear to me.”

  “Lucina…” It edged on a growl. Undoubtedly, he felt the answering quivers of my pussy. I couldn’t control those, but I could keep up the pissed glare. Easily.

  “Just calling this show like I see it, Your Highness.”

  He arched a brow. “And how is that?”

  “That you’re actually upset that I helped Crista out.” Hearing it out loud only honed my anger about it. “That even though I’ve known her only seven hours instead of seven years, you’re pissed that I actually gave a damn. That I actually—”

  His hard kiss cut me off. But did the dickwad think it would make me all melty-silent? I grunted hard then groaned harder, clarifying what he could do with that presumption. The bastard turned the moment into full advantage, sweeping his tongue in past my parted lips, stabbing it against mine. Ravaging me without apology or mercy or leniency.

  By the time he was done, I was melted.

  Actually wondered if I’d have to re-learn how to speak again.

  “I am not ‘upset’, tupulai.” He rolled his hips, mashing his throbbing bulge against all the most sensitive parts of me. “Your heart…its unspeakable generosity…” Another thrust, more adamant than before. “It makes me hard in ways you cannot fathom.”

  “Oh.” Okay, at least I managed that. Maybe there was hope for the rest of my vocabulary, “Well. I actually think I can fathom—ahhh!”

  My yelp cracked the air as he rammed me even more roughly. The treatment was almost punishment, confirmed by the new lightning in his eyes—and the unflinching command in his tone.

  “But you also do not fathom how seriously, permanently you could have been hurt.” He dug that in with quiet brutality, watching without a blink as I winced, mentally gored by the tangibility of his pain. “You could have died, Lucina,” he gritted. “Things could have gone very differently this afternoon. Even up on that rise, you were not safe. A few more inches of rain, and that river might have swept you away too—and I would not have been there for you. Nobody would have been. And then—”

  Abruptly, he released me. Shoved up then completely off the bed. Spun away like a man possessed, hands knotting at his sides. “Dammit.”

  For a long moment, I was motionless. Just lay there, pushed up on my elbows, chest heaving, weathering the force of his fury on the air—a little stunned by it.

  Maybe a little more than a little.

  Sheez.

  Was this the reason why he was still taut as a grenade with half the pin out?

  Because of…me?

  He had to knock that shit off. Right now.

  “Shiraz.” I rose too. “Hey. That didn’t happen, did it?” I stepped around so we faced each other once more. “Look. I’m right here, and everything’s f—”

  I gulped as soon as he looked up again. Damn. Blue Fire wasn’t just the name of my favorite cocktail at the Santa Monica pier dive bar anymore. The blaze in his eyes…

  “Everything is not fine, Lucina.”

  As my hands lifted to my hips, my brows jumped for my hairline. “Why?” I fired. “Because you say so, lord and master?”

  Just as rapidly, his demeanor changed again. Drastically. Seriously, I almost wondered who’d punched the special effects button on his side of the room—the button marked Boost the intense-and-interested stare.

  And the newly braced stance.

  And the quietly commanding mouth lift. Just at the corners. Just enough to make me think of the thoughts behind the move…

  Shit. Did he practice that? It was too damned unnerving to just be natural…

  “Hmm. That has a nice ring to it.”

  On the other hand, rehearsed or not, I’d take it—with a side of that new, silky dessert thing in his voice too. Cream and butter and even whipped chocolate had nothing on that tone. It sl
id over my whole body, warm and smooth and invasive, making me think of dessert kind of things…like licking. And sucking. And savoring…

  I gave my head a fast shake. No. I was still irked with him for the caveman melodrama, for which he wasn’t getting off the hook that damn easily.

  I screwed my hands tighter on my hips. “Everything’s not fine why?”

  The blue fire ceded to the Bowie knife gray again. He dipped his head in, just enough to lend menace to his look, before he stated, “Because I am concerned about what will happen if you do it again.”

  Double-take. Could I be blamed? “Do it…again?” I reined in a full giggle by biting my lip. “You mean break out of a storm shelter to help a friend find her six-year-old siblings? Because unless you have another medicane waiting on the horizon, mister, I think we’re squared up.”

  I had another small laugh teed up, ready to finish in style, but he snuck a finger beneath my chin, yanking it up. Worse, he shifted even closer, filling my gaze with nothing but him, as he responded.

  “I mean what will happen if you defy my wishes again.”

  “Defy your—” I ran the risk of seeming a stuttering idiot, but at the risk of redundancy, blame me, anyone? I banked on the sentiment to carry me through the next open-jawed moment, and the next.

  Even as he leveled me with his next shocker.

  By angling his hand up, then sliding his thumb into my mouth.

  Holy.

  Shit.

  Right in, scraping the pad over my bottom teeth, before pressing his flesh on the flat of my tongue.

  What…the…

  A thought my traitorous body didn’t let me finish. My bloodstream burst into so many flames of response, I instantly gave up on putting any out.

  Gave up. Then gave in.

  Closed my lips over his warm, firm flesh, then rolled my tongue around it. Tried not to think of how my sex vibrated from every note of his answering growl.

  Tried. Failed.

  Especially when thinking this lord and master thing was going to happen.

  Hoped. Prayed.

  Yeah, despite how he still pissed me off. Maybe, like the good little deviant I was, because of it. All at once, recasting him in my head as the dominant, distant ruler and me as the loving, serving slave girl…

  Oh, dear God.

  The temperature in my blood now.

  The hunger in my nerves.

  The need in my sex…

  “Do you think about my wishes, Lucina?” His voice was rust on steel. His thumb was incessant pressure. He lifted his other hand, bracing fingers around the back of my jaw. Used the hold to pull me forward then back again, forward then back, working my mouth back and forth on his finger. “Are my wishes important to you? My…needs?”

  Well…hell.

  He didn’t snap free the padlock. He took a sledgehammer to the thing, shattering it. Immediately my mind surged into the breech—to a space I showed to nearly nobody, because nearly nobody understood it. But this man, this prince with the face of a god and the soul of a hero and now, it seemed, with the dominant hunger of a lion, had shined his incredible light on that special space. Yanked me into the stuff of my most incredible fantasies…

  But did I obey? Did I dare?

  We’d only ever have the next few hours. Once the Sancti airport was back on line, I’d be on a plane and this would all be an aching, magical memory. But wasn’t everything about this man going to be that anyway? Wasn’t I going to be that woman from every star-crossed love story ever put on film (except Romeo and Juliet, which didn’t really count), face reflected in a rain-drenched plane window, watching clouds superimposed with memories of his face? This was reckless and mindless and headed for such an obvious disaster of a conclusion, we were fools to ignore the clichés.

  Except that we couldn’t ignore all the stuff that wasn’t a cliché.

  This.

  Us.

  The connection that meshed us. The spell that bound us. The sight into each other, framing us. Remolding us. Redefining what we would be to each other even now.

  We could be a different kind of movie.

  Flutes and guitars, blended by synthesizers, began playing in my head. The soundtrack of a mini movie. Duran Duran’s Save A Prayer.

  Some people call it a one-night stand, but we can call it paradise.

  Paradise.

  Yes.

  “Yes.” I had to set his finger free to voice it aloud, but if I read the look on his face right, that thumb was just the prelude of what he wanted in my mouth. “Yes, Your Highness. Your wishes are important to me.”

  Somebody punched that special effects button again—only this time, his fierce focus was layered with absolute command. His gaze, sharp as blue lasers, sliced into me. His hand, still wrapped against the back curve of my jaw, squeezed in just a little tighter. Compelled me forward, my body liquid and obedient, until our mouths nearly touched.

  I gasped up at him. Breathed every harsh, heavy, consuming breath as an offering to him…an open entreaty to him. God, yes. Kiss me…please…

  The corners of his lips curled again.

  Holy shit, that look again.

  “‘Master’ will be fine for now, tupulai.”

  Not a kiss.

  Even better.

  “Yes, Master,” I whispered, letting the magic settle in thicker. “Whatever you wish.”

  I leaned a little closer, craving his harder grip, but he slipped his hand free, gliding it out to my shoulder. He cupped a hand around my other shoulder before saying anything again.

  “What I wish…is to be inside you, Lucina.” His touch turned heavy, pushing me down. “Beginning with how you’ll take me from your knees.”

  Oh…

  damn…

  yes.

  The ecstasy wrapped around me as sensual need engulfed me. The need to do exactly this for him. To be completely claimed by him, controlled by him, guided by him—points emphasized as he caught handfuls of my shirt during my descent. With efficient tugs, he removed it completely from me. One more twist and he’d opened the clasp of my bra, setting my bare breasts free.

  My tingling, aching, completely erect breasts.

  “Fuck.” He nudged one with one of his calves, making my nipple stand up even harder. Did the same with his other leg, resulting in my pensive moan. Before I could help it, my hips bucked, a desperate attempt to give my clenching core a little relief.

  The temptation was ripped away when Shiraz cupped my chin, forcing my head back up. In his dilated pupils, I beheld my own reflection. Kiss-swollen lips. Nipples at full attention, centered in puckered, dusky areolas. Eyes glassy with unthinking lust.

  But there were just seconds to process all of that, before the curious tilt of his head claimed my attention.

  “Fuckkkk.” He drew it out this time. “You really do want this.”

  I dared the smallest of nods. “Yes, Master. I do.”

  He snarled. Just for a moment. Shifted his hold from my chin, sliding that hand into a possessive clench across the back of my head. “Then you shall have what you crave. Serve me, tupulai—with your mouth.”

  I smiled. Just a little. “It will be my pleasure, Master.”

  And God, how it was.

  No. It was better than pleasure. It was heaven.

  Unbuckling his pants.

  Unzipping his fly.

  Dipping my head in to breathe his musk…then savoring my first taste of his hard flesh. A low rumble emanated from him as I licked the base of his shaft, wanting to remember this feeling. The way I made him swell. The way I made him sound. The wonderful, primal things that were all male about him…calling to everything that was female in me.

  “Dammit,” he finally husked. “Enough.” With his free hand, pushed down the fabric still trapping his cock, springing more of the shaft free. His erection was more beautiful than I’d imagined—and I had imagined—with a nest of dark hair supporting a penis the color of polished copper. Veins stood out again
st his skin, pulsing burgundy with his blood, his life. The crown was a shade darker, throbbing with arousal and topped with a milky drop I couldn’t wait to get my mouth on.

  A good thing, considering what he did next.

  Slid his hand forward until he could squeeze the juncture of my jaw. Used that same grip to force my mouth to his glistening tip. “Suck it off. Then take the rest of me.”

  He tasted perfect.

  I’d no more savored the salty pre-cum than he fed me the rest of his length. I nearly couldn’t take him all on the first thrust, being rusty at best on this since Ryan had some hang-up that only sluts really liked blowing their men, but the memory of this joy returned quickly.

  Thank God.

  Wasn’t the only thing I was grateful for.

  As a matter of fact, I started to wonder if blood cells could function on nothing but bliss, since the certainty hit that every inch of me flowed with the stuff. To be wrapped around him like this, so connected to his center of him like this…nurturing the part of him coursing with life itself…I’d never been happier. Felt more powerful. Felt more needed by, or worthy of, a man.

  And there it was. The nucleus of everything. The deepest, darkest reason I needed this, as well.

  Because if I’d known how to make Ryan need me more, he wouldn’t have said goodbye.

  If I’d known how to be more worthy, God wouldn’t have taken Dad from us.

  Things would be different. I’d be different. Not such a deviant, strange, stupid mess. Wouldn’t want things like pain to take me away…

  from the bigger pain.

  It only took seconds for all of it to collide inside, hitting like a cosmic jolt—and driving the tears to my eyes. I hated them as soon as they came, longing to reach up and make them disappear, but dissolving into a weepy mess simply wasn’t an option right now. Not with Shiraz’s flesh filling me, commanding me. Not with his growls vibrating through me, his lust empowering me…

  And his thumbs, wiping at my cheeks?

  Huh?

  I looked up. Was pierced all over again by his face, awash in a new expression. His eyes, so intense. His nose, flared with lust. His lips, curled with—what? I couldn’t discern the emotion behind the subtle smile, only to know what feelings it spiked higher in me. The need to please him more. To take him even deeper.