One NIght With Pasqual (The Chevalier Series)

by Azod, Shara

  “You know what? I think this was a bad idea.”

  Rhonda move to walk around him. She needed to get out of the house—she needed to think. More than anything else, she really needed to move far, far away from Pasqual before she said something she would regret.

  “Oh, I don’t think so, sugar. You are mine. You will always be mine. Time to work that through that pretty, but thick skull of yours.”

  Chapter Nine

  Two whole steps. That was as far as Rhonda got before she was literally swept off her feet and carried into the room where it all started. There wasn’t time for Rhonda to think before finding herself in the middle of his bed, his lips taking hers in a commanding kiss that stole any will to try to get away. The sharp edge of desire hadn’t worn off from earlier, so it took little to stoke the simmering embers of longing into a full-blown inferno of agonized yearning. Sure hands divested her of her clothing as his mouth showered fevered kisses on the bare skin he exposed. And yet he was fully dressed. She was unable to tug or pull a single article of clothing off his body. Damn it, she needed skin on skin!

  Yet she couldn’t deny there was something sinfully erotic about Pasqual being clothed as he caressed her bare flesh with hands and lips. The roughness of his clothes rubbing against her as they tangled together on the bed added another layer of sensations that only made her hotter, more needy. Any thought of stopping what was about to happen fled as she gave back the greedy, carnal hunger he gave to her. Redoubling her efforts to get him at least partially naked, she clawed at his shirt, but he just wasn’t cooperating.

  Breaking the kiss entirely too soon in her way of thinking, Pasqual pinned her arms over her head as he hovered over her, fixing her with a look every bit as hot as his kisses had been.

  “God, Rhonnie you are so beautiful.” There was an awed quality in his voice that humbled her. She was no such thing. The way he said it, though, made her believe he meant every syllable.

  “Despite being as big as a whale?” she gently teased back, unable to deal with the intensity of his stare or the longing his words stirred in her. She didn’t want true confessions, didn’t want to identify the rioting emotions rolling through her mind.

  Apparently she’d said the wrong thing. At her reply, something dark and dangerous flashed in his eyes. It wasn’t a promise or threat of violence, but it scared her in a way physical violence never could. His eyes promised a sensual threat Rhonda wasn’t sure she was ready for.

  “I was kidding.” She tried to laugh it off, but her laugh sounded false even to her own ears.

  “What did I say?” His words held her captive as much as his hands did. And oh, God... His voice had deepened, thick with authority that made her want to do whatever he said. How sick was it that her quim quivered with anticipation? She shouldn’t want him as much as she did. Hell, he didn’t even remember this wasn’t the first time she had been in his bed. Yet, her hips bucked upward, trying to find him and rub against him. Whereas she had been wet before, now she was drenched.

  “You said I was beautiful.”

  It had taken Rhonda years to perfect an assertive tone in her own voice. She too had been a child of privilege once, albeit on a far smaller scale than Pasqual. Growing up as an African-American princess, the Southern Belle kind, her voice had been soft, biddable. She’d had all the mannerisms of a woman well taken care of. That ended out of necessity when her parents died, as did the way she spoke. In less than a minute, Pasqual had her reverting back to the soft femininity of her youth, and damned if she didn’t love it. The feeling of being one hundred percent female, loved, taken care of, and yeah, even protected was exhilarating.

  “I don’t think you believe me.” Pasqual’s voice may have been quiet, soft in a masculine way, but there was purpose behind it. “I guess I’m going to have to show you, aren’t I, sugar?”

  Fuck! That slow, Southern drawl on an incredibly sexy man was lethal. Especially one that currently had her nude, pinned, and primed.

  Moving with the grace of a large, predatory cat, Pasqual lowered his head, gaze never leaving eyes, to place soft, gentle kisses on her face, everywhere but her lips no matter how she moved her head to try to capture his mouth with her own. He ignored the unspoken plea and moved down to her shoulder, then up to her collarbone before sliding languidly down to her breasts. There he stopped, rising as he let go of her wrists. Both hands reached down to cup the round globes, using his thumbs to flick the peaks lightly back and forth.

  Her breasts had always been somewhat sensitive, but the pregnancy made her especially so. A simple touch sent sizzling, electric-like currents to every nerve ending, igniting a path that led straight to her pussy. Even her clit throbbed with the acute need to be touched. Although he was kneeling between her spread thighs, no amount of moving her hips upward reached him.

  “Are they sensitive, sugar?” As he purred the question, he added more pressure to each diamond-hard nipples.

  Gasping, Rhonda did little more than nod, hoping, praying he would move on soon. Didn’t he realize how much she craved completion? Closing her eyes, she shivered as Pasqual began to massage each breast, never stopping the light torture on her little nubbins. “Ummmmm,” was the only reply she gave, luxuriating in the painful pleasure he was giving her.

  “Words, Rhonda.” The sternness was back quick as lightning. “How does it feel?”

  Oh, but the man did play dirty. It was hard enough to think, much less freaking talk! “It feels like torture,” she growled at his all too handsome face. He knew it too. Making her say it was just wrong.

  “Does it?” he drawled as his hands and fingers stopped moving altogether.

  A broken cry flew from her lips as his head swept down suddenly and he drew her nipple into his mouth. He didn’t kiss or suck lightly. He drew down on her nipple, sending a bolt of painful pleasure rocketing through her. His other hand pinched down on her nipple, then rolled it between his fingers at the same time. Holy hell, it hurt, but it felt so damn good at the same time. Back and forth, between her breasts, he kept up the sensual agony. Her pussy was spasming but she couldn’t close her legs; Pasqual was kneeling between them.

  “Please, Pasqual! I need more!” He had to know that. In fact, she was sure he did.

  But he didn’t stop. Instead he kept switching between breasts until she was sobbing, begging him for release.

  “Are you in need, baby?”

  Bastard. Even if his parents were married, he was still a certifiable bastard.

  “You know I am.” Need and anger clashed as she considered hitting him. Or maybe she could flip him over and climb on top. After she got his clothes off, that is. Her hand clenched on his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin just a little.

  “Where else are you sensitive, Rhonnie?” Slowly he peeled his shirt over his head, revealing unbelievably defined pecs, a washboard stomach, and a beautifully tapered waist. Generally he looked damn good in clothes, but she’d forgotten how beautiful he was. With honey-colored skin and those damn brilliant, jewel-like eyes, he looked like a pagan god, far above mortal men.

  “Rhonda, I asked you a question.” Oh, right, he had asked her a question. One she really didn’t want to answer.

  “I don’t know,” she snapped, mad because he seemed in no great hurry while she was gagging for it. Her core was hungry, damn it, and it had been so very long since she had been touched. And truthfully, she really didn’t know. Wild sex wasn’t something she participated in like, ever. Except for that one time, of course, with him. Exploration of her own sensuality only happened in her fantasies.

  “Well, we’ll just have to find out, won’t we?”

  Unless I have a heart attack along the way, Rhonda thought, closing her eyes. She didn’t open them even when she felt Pasqual move down, then settle between her spread legs. Yes, yes, finally! Only of course he didn’t do what she expected him to. Instead of placing his mouth where she really, really, seriously, desperately needed it, he began to taste
where the moisture lay on her thighs. Holy hell, how it tingled! Her sheath was crying to be filled, and he was so very close, but still not nearly close enough. Why was he doing this to her? Her breathing became nothing more than helpless gulps of air as she tried so hard to move into the path of his mouth, but he responded by pinning her hips to the bed with his hands.

  “Pas, I swear by all the saints in heaven if you do not put my pussy in your mouth I might have to kill you!”

  Okay she really hadn’t meant to say that. The man forced her to! It was all his fault she had lost her “lady,” becoming a woman intent on getting what she needed.

  “Sweetheart, that is all you had to say.”

  Instead of complying, however, he skimmed his fingertips across her pelvis, her upper thigh, her inner thigh, sending bolts of scalding need throughout her body. Her hips moved upward in an urgent attempt to get him to touch her rapacious pussy.

  He was driving her crazy! She needed—she needed so badly, she wasn’t sure she would survive it. Whimpering, she tried to tug his head by his hair, tried to maneuver herself toward his mouth, but as usual, Pas did what he wanted and in his own sweet time. Rhonda was close to screaming in frustration when finally he was there, his mouth covering her cunt the way she needed him to as his tongue snaked into her channel. Grasping the short, silky strands of his hair, Rhonda let go of everything but this moment. She didn’t care she was riding his face mercilessly, didn’t care she was grunting, that she had been reduced to her most elemental self. Nothing mattered but this. She would beg, she would plead, she would do whatever was necessary to make this last forever in just one afternoon.

  “More, Pas! Please, I need more.”

  Thankfully he didn’t waste time answering with words. Cupping her buttocks, he lifted her to his mouth, moving to suck at her clit. There was no time to mourn the loss of his mouth on her pussy; he replaced his otherwise occupied mouth with his fingers. That was all she needed. Rhonda exploded, her body shaking as she came hard.

  “Pas!”

  It was so good, so damn good, but she knew there was more. She wanted him inside her. She needed him inside her.

  “Shhh, baby, I’m right here.” Pasqual had moved back up to lay beside her. “Did I hurt you?”

  Hurt her? He had devastated her, and he didn’t have a clue why.

  “Please, Pas. I want you inside me.” It wasn’t as forward as her previous request, but hopefully it would be good enough.

  “Now, Rhonnie, you know that isn’t quite good enough, don’t you?” Shit. Yeah, she did. “Tell me what you want, or we can just lay here and hold each other.”

  And she could be a natural blonde, but that was never going to happen. Afraid he would simply lay there and hold her, she took a deep breath, trying to think of words that would be good enough.

  “Just say it, Rhonnie. We’re both adults. Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you. All you ever have to do is let me know.”

  He wasn’t just talking about now, either. She could tell, but she didn’t want to acknowledge it. That more than anything gave her the needed courage to just say it.

  “I need you to—to make love to me.” That wasn’t what he wanted, exactly. She knew, but it was really hard to say dirty things out loud. At least it was when she was thinking about it. “I want you to fuck me, Pasqual.” And if he didn’t, she was going to kill him.

  Fortunately for him, he rose to peel the rest of his clothing off...slowly. Way too slowly. The man was simply magnificent! From head to toe, he was sheer male perfection. As much as she tried not to, her eyes kept returning to the weapon he was lugging around. It looked so much bigger now than it had before. For a brief second she felt trepidation. It wasn’t that she thought she couldn’t take him—she could, she had. But she had been far more relaxed before, and far less pregnant.

  “Do you know how much I want you?” Pasqual surprised her by asking. “How I’ve watched you, needed you?”

  While he spoke, he took his turgid length in hand and began to stroke it from root to tip. Rhonda unconsciously licked her lips, wondering how he would taste. He really was blessed in the cock department. Good lord, how the hell had that thing fit inside her the first time?

  “Don’t worry, sugar. It’ll fit. You were made for this, for me.” As if he could read her mind, he answered the question while slowly crawling back onto the bed. Kneeling between her thighs, he rubbed the head of his dick along the seam of her sheath.

  “Don’t tease,” Rhonda begged, wiggling her pelvis, trying to force him inside.

  “Swear to me you will give me a chance to show you how good we can be together, and I will take care of your needs.”

  Wait—what? He could not be serious. Not right now.

  “Pas—I...”

  “You’re planning on leaving, probably the moment I shut my eyes. Tell me you weren’t, Rhonnie.”

  She was. Looking away in shame, she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She could agree, and he knew good and well she would stay if she gave her word. Or she could stop this now and walk away. Neither choice appealed to her right now, but she was going to have to choose one.

  “Rhonnie?”

  He was still moving against her nether lips, slowly applying pressure when he reached her clit. Asshole. He knew what he was doing. The man was utterly ruthless.

  “I promise to give you—us—a chance,” she panted, knowing her heart was never going to be the same.

  He thrust deeply, moving slowly while he watched her face as avidly as he had in the very beginning. There was no hiding from him, no more walls. He was claiming her, and she was allowing him to. Her body was completely at his will. Every nerve in her body felt as if they were all being stroked at once. She couldn’t think—all she could do was feel, feel the wonderful sensation of being stretched and filled to her very limit, the delicious tingling that grew into some strange fire that burned so good throughout her body. His movements increased, sending the burning sensation into a full-blown inferno. Rhonda hung on to him for all she was worth as he furiously bucked inside her. She felt as if she were being pushed higher and higher, until all at once everything inside seemed to explode, sending her spiraling into outer space. She screamed, not understanding what was happening. She had never felt anything so beautiful, so filling, so overwhelming all at once. She couldn’t think. She felt Pasqual tense, then shout. She felt her inside flood with a curious warmth that caused a series of minor explosions that only added to the intense orgasm she had just experienced. Then she felt her body drift back to earth, complete and sated.

  “Look at me, Rhonnie.”

  Her eyes snapped open at his command. Bluish-green orbs shone down at her, the harsh planes of his face more pronounced as he looked into her very soul.

  “Say it,” he ordered her. “Tell me you belong to me.”

  “I belong to you, Pas,” she whispered. “I always have.”

  Chapter Ten

  “I need your help.” Four words Rhonda had spent the last six years trying to never say. And what had it gotten her? Right now she was seven months pregnant by a man who had no idea the baby was his. And what was worse, she had fallen deeply, irrevocably in love with him.

  In a way it was rather hilarious how Pasqual had swept into her life and taken care of everything; literally everything. Over the past two months, she had allowed him to get closer than she’d ever intended. The man had begun debating baby names, brought home an antique cradle that was so beautiful it made her cry. He was the perfect father, and he still didn’t know he was the father. By sheer force of will, he had gotten her moved into his bedroom and begun converting the bedroom she had occupied into a nursery. He spoke as if they were already a family. Rhonda couldn’t let another day go by without telling him the truth.

  “Pas being his usual charming self?” Chloe laughed into the phone, bringing Rhonda up short. She really had no clue how to respond. She hadn’t spoken to Chloe since cutting herself off six years ag
o. She certainly had never ever told Chloe about her feelings for Pasqual. “Oh, come on, did you think my little brother wouldn’t tell me everything? I know about your wild night with Pas, I know about the pregnancy, and I know about the half-ass plot Rayce had to get Pas the Ass to take responsibility for his actions.”

  “Pas wasn’t the only one there that night.” Rhonda’s defense was immediate. Because really none of this was Pas’ fault. She knew what she was doing that night. And she knew about the broken condoms. Okay, the several broken condoms. The moment she found out she was pregnant, she should have been a woman about it and fessed up.

  But fear had held her back. Fear she was going to lose the precious illusion she had been living the past couple of months. Even before sleeping with Pas, Rhonda had enjoyed the domestic tranquility Pas offered. And that was very unfair to him. It wasn’t hers to take. It belonged to the woman he would eventually meet who didn’t keep important facts from him, who wasn’t afraid he would never really love her. As of right now, Rhonda was convinced Pas was in love with the idea of being a father and husband; he was playing house. Only this wasn’t a game, this was her life, and she had to get it back on track, for the baby’s sake.

  “Rayce is a rat fink.” Not really. Rayce was a good friend. As was Chloe. Rhonda sincerely regretted cutting them out of her life like she had. So many mistakes she’d made could have been avoided if she hadn’t.

  “True.” Chloe laughed in the characteristic, truly joy-filled way she had. That woman could make any situation seem lighter just by her laugh. “So you want me to come spring you, or what? I have a great place to hide you until dunderhead comes to his senses.”