“I love you, princess,” I growl into the curve of her neck, too far gone to draw this out much longer. “So fucking much.”
I manage to slow my thrusts long enough to release the clamps on Ivy’s nipples, sending fresh blood rushing into the tight tips, making them even more sensitive. All it takes is a few gentle brushes of my thumb across her puckered flesh—once, twice, three times—as I grind against her to make her come again.
This time, as her pussy goes hotter, wetter, I let go, crying out in primal bliss as I come. My cock pulses so hard inside Ivy that by the time my orgasm is finished I feel like I’ve been turned inside out. There’s nothing left but an empty shell, but that’s all right. One look in her eyes is all it takes to fill me up again, to fill me with love and desire and gratitude for my sweet and wicked future wife.
“We’ll get you an engagement ring on Monday.” I kiss her cheek. “I want you tagged as off the market as soon as possible.”
She smiles. “Good. I like being tagged by you. And that cock ring? Best thing ever.”
I gaze down at her blissed-out expression, unable to help feeling a little smug. “I know what I’m doing, Prescott.”
“You do,” she says with a happy sigh. “I’m a lucky girl.”
“Does this mean I have permission to slip in the butt plug I brought? I promise you, it’s going to rock your world the next time I make you come.”
She rolls her eyes, but she’s still smiling when she says, “Yes, love. What better way to celebrate our engagement than with a butt plug?”
I grin. “I think I just fell a little more in love with you, Mrs. Mulligan.”
“I like the sound of that.” She hums happily into my mouth as I kiss her lips.
And then I kiss her neck and her shoulders and the soft skin beneath her breasts. I kiss her belly and her thighs and between her legs, where she is so slick from the evidence of our combined enthusiasm for fucking each other that the plug slides in easily. And when I make her come on my tongue with the plug in her ass, I can tell she’s a fan. By the time I slide my cock inside her, she’s wild, out of her mind with pleasure, swearing nothing has ever felt so good as coming hard with my cock and the plug both buried deep inside.
Afterward, I’m not shy about telling her “I told you so,” and she’s not shy about telling me that she’s ready for my cock to claim that final frontier.
And then it’s my turn to be driven out of my mind.
We don’t leave the island the entire night. We make love again on the pebble beach and lie side by side in hammocks next to the water, planning an October wedding because we both agree autumn is the sexiest season. I have Ivy again in my hammock, slowly and carefully with her on top, and this time no one falls.
She simply lays her head on my chest afterward, and we watch the sun rise over the water, savoring the first day of our forever.
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Hannah’s eyes flew open and her lips parted in a scream, but the enormous man straddling her pressed his hand tighter to her lips, muffling the sound.
She jerked her arms downward, ready to fight him off, only to discover that her wrists were tied to the headboard. Terror rushed through her and her pulse sped, setting her heart to slamming against her ribs as she tugged harder on her bonds. But the rope biting into her wrists assured her she wouldn’t be able to fight her way free.
She was bound tight, powerless to protect herself from whatever this man intended to do to her.
“Relax, princess. It’s just me.” The man leaned down, the water dripping from the end of his nose, landing on Hannah’s cheek, making her flinch. “I came in through the window. I thought I’d make that fantasy you were telling me about a reality.”
Hannah swallowed, her thundering heartbeat slowing a bit as she understood what was happening.
She wasn’t being attacked by an intruder. This man must be Harley’s guy of the moment, and he clearly thought he was straddling her sister. Once she cleared up the misunderstanding, he’d untie her and she could show him to the door. They’d both be embarrassed, no doubt, but she wasn’t about to be raped or murdered.
The realization made her whip-tight muscles sag with relief, an action she realized too late that the man took as an invitation to continue living out Harley’s bondage fantasy.
“I’ve been dying to touch you all day,” he said, his dry palm moving from her mouth to her breast, teasing her nipple through her thin tee shirt, drawing a gasp from her throat.
She expected his touch to feel foreign and unwelcome, but his fingers were gentle, teasing her with a sweetness that made her arch into his warm hand. Electricity shot from her breast to coil between her legs, the sensation intensified by the feel of the rope digging into her wrists as her biceps tightened reflexively in response to the stranger’s confident touch.
“God, the sounds you make drive me crazy,” the man said, pinching her nipple tight enough to make her gasp again.
“No, please, I’m not—” Hannah’s words ended in a moan as he pushed her shirt up and bent lower, tugging her nipple into the warm, wet heat of his mouth. His tongue flicked and teased, flooding her body with pleasure and longing so intense she was panting by the time he transferred his mouth to her other breast, sucking and nibbling at the aroused skin as his big hand slipped down the front of her panties, finding where she was already wet.
Wet, from her sister’s boyfriend’s mouth on her breasts. And now his fingers were sliding into where she ached, making her shudder.
If she didn’t stop this soon, it would be too late. There would be no avoiding tragedy, there would be only shame and the nightmare of confessing to her sister and this innocent man that she’d done something unforgivable.
“Stop, I’m not Harley.” She tensed her thighs only to relax them a second later when she realized her locked muscles were trapping his fingers inside her embarrassingly slick sex.
“No, you’re not,” he said, driving his fingers in and out of her as he trapped her nipple between his teeth and bit down, making her cry out in pain before he soothed away the hurt with his tongue.
“You’re my little slut,” he continued in his deep, sexy rumble of a voice, his fingers still busy between her legs, making the tension coiling low in her body fist even tighter. “And I’m going to fuck you until you scream.”
“No, please,” Hannah said, excitement and fear dumping into her bloodstream simultaneously, making her feel like she was being deliciously, torturously torn in two. “I’m not Harley, I’m—”
This time, he silenced her with a kiss, his tongue pushing between her lips, demanding entrance to her mouth. He tasted of something smoky, hard cider, and the ocean on a day when it isn’t safe to go into the water. His kiss was dangerous, wild, and unlike anything Hannah had experienced before. He didn’t tease or test her; he fucked her mouth with his tongue, the thick muscle mimicking the movements of his fingers between her legs, bringing her to the edge faster than she’d imagined possible.
She’d had trouble tumbling over in the past. But her former boyfriends had always been sweet men and often too-tender lovers.
This man might be sweet—she had no way of knowing what he was like outside the bedroom—but he wasn’t tender. He was demanding, controlling, the type of man who didn’t hesitate, didn’t change course, didn’t stop until the job was done. There would be no easy escape from this bed, she knew it even before he hooked his fingers inside of her, coaxing her into an orgasm that had her bowing off the bed, screaming into the hot, hungry mouth still devouring her own.
Her body c
lenched down, liquid heat gushing out to dampen her thighs as pleasure rocketed through her core and his tongue continued to fuck her mouth, building her need again even as her pussy still throbbed and clutched at his thick fingers.
By the time he grabbed her behind the knees, forcing her legs up and out—until her knees were in her armpits and she was bared to him, from her ass to her dripping sex—she was beyond words, beyond identity, beyond awareness of anything but the blunt head of his engorged cock hot at her entrance.
Fear flashed through her for a moment—she was on the pill, but she’d never had sex without a condom before—but then he was gliding into her, shoving through her swollen flesh, stretching her so wide she wasn’t sure she’d ever be the same again.
She moaned, pain and pleasure warring within her as he claimed her in one long, slow stroke. He was enormous and so thick her body fought to eject him, to banish the burning sensation he caused between her legs. But he kept coming. And coming and coming, until she swore she could feel him in her belly, in her lungs. He was everywhere, his hot thickness filling her up until there was no room for anything but him.
She tried to breathe deeper, to center herself, to hold on to that sacred, hidden kernel of her soul no man had ever touched, but she couldn’t find it.
There was only him, his heat, his rain and campfire smell, and his need, spearing her in two, insisting she take everything he had to give.
“Look at me,” he said, holding still inside her, his voice demanding she obey. “Look at me.”
She lifted her eyes to his, a ragged sob escaping from her strained throat. At this angle, the light from the bathroom hit his face and she was granted her first good look at him, this stranger who was buried inside her, and it all but stopped her heart. He was beautiful—strong, rugged features softened by full lips and dark eyes that burned with passion and intelligence. He was as stunning as all of Harley’s men, but there was more to him than a handsome face or a gorgeous body. There was something in his eyes, something that made her want to know him, to please him.
“I know what you want,” he said. “But I can’t go there until you tell me that you’re mine.” He paused, looking so deep into her she couldn’t believe he didn’t see that she was an imposter.
But in the long, breathless moment that their eyes held and all of Hannah’s secrets and fears seeped into the air between them, his gaze only gentled.
“Because you are mine,” he said softly, his voice as tender as his cock was merciless. “Your pleasure belongs to me, your pain belongs to me. I want it all, Harley. All of you. Don’t fight me anymore. Give it to me. Give it all to me.”
Hannah’s breath rushed out through her parted lips, but she didn’t know what to say, how to tell him she was a liar when this moment felt so real, so right.
“You can trust me.” He flexed his buttocks, forcing his cock impossibly deeper, making her groan in pleasure. In pain.
Pleasure-pain. They were one and the same with this man and she wanted nothing more than to give him what he wanted, whatever he wanted so long as he would never stop hurting her, healing her, possessing her in a way she’d never realized she wanted to be possessed until this stranger had claimed her for his own.
But she wasn’t his and he wasn’t hers.
He belonged to her sister and this was so wrong that “wrong” wasn’t a big enough word to describe it—this betrayal, this sacrilege, this terrible, terrible thing she’d allowed to happen. She should have fought harder, screamed the truth until he understood she wasn’t playing games.
Now it was too late, and she hated herself for it.
“Please,” she said, tears filling her eyes. “Forgive me.”
“For what, princess?” His warm palm cupped her cheek with a sweetness that threatened to break her heart all over again.
“I can’t…” She swallowed, searching for the strength to tell him the truth, but she couldn’t, not when she was exposed, so vulnerable, and so intimately connected to this man that she couldn’t tell where he ended and she began. “I can’t tell you. Not now.”
“Now is the time to tell me anything,” he said, leaning down, his lips hovering above hers as he shifted his hips, pulling out until she was acutely aware of all the places that ached in his absence before pushing back into her again, summoning another hungry sound from her throat. “Everything. I’m ready for your secrets.”
“No, you’re not,” she whispered, shuddering as he began to roll his hips, nudging her clit with his pubic bone again and again, building the need swelling inside of her.
“I’m not a fool.” He captured her nipple between his fingers, tugging it in time to the undulating rhythm of his hips. “I know you’ve been hiding things from me. It doesn’t matter. What matters is right now. Tell me you’re mine and we’ll figure the rest out together.”
“Stop, please,” she said, teeth digging into her bottom lip as she strained against her bonds, but the rough rope against her skin only made her hotter, wetter. “I can’t think. I can’t—”
“Don’t think,” he said, his grip tightening on her nipple as he rode her harder, until she was quivering beneath him, so close to the edge she knew she could go at any moment. “Feel. Feel how real this is and tell me you’re mine. Tell me and I’ll do all those things you’ve been dreaming about.”
He shifted his head, whispering into her ear, his breath hot on her skin as he fucked her with long, languid strokes that completely unraveled her mind. “I’ll spank you and mark you and fuck you so hard you won’t be able to sit down for days without thinking about how I used you.” He pressed a kiss to her throat, where her pulse raced. “Isn’t that what you want?”
Hannah nodded breathlessly. She had never even imagined things like that, but suddenly, lying beneath this man, she wanted all the wicked things he’d promised and more. She wanted to be turned over his knee and punished for the lies she’d told. She wanted him to hurt her for letting him believe she was someone she wasn’t, and then she wanted him to take the pain away with his beautiful mouth.
That exquisite mouth that made her shudder now as his teeth dragged lightly over the skin at her throat.
“Then say it,” he said. “Give yourself to me. Tell me you’re mine.”
“I’m yours,” Hannah said, the words out of her mouth before she could stop them. “I’m yours. Forever. Yours.”
“Fuck yes, princess,” he moaned, thrusting faster, deeper, demanding her pleasure. “Come for me. Come on my cock. Let me feel you.”
Hannah’s head fell back as she came with a sound that wasn’t cute or ladylike. It was wild and base, a cry of animal satisfaction that ripped from her throat as her pussy clutched at her stranger’s pistoning cock, demanding his orgasm with the same assurance that he’d ordered her own.
He came crying out her sister’s name, his thickness jerking hard inside of her, the feel of his scalding heat soaking her insides sending her soaring a third time. Lights danced behind her tightly closed eyes, and somewhere deep inside of her, things she needed to live lost purchase and floated away from their moorings. She was adrift, helpless to defend herself, totally at the mercy of this man who gently untied her arms and kissed the red welts on her wrists.
And she didn’t even know his name.
Hours later, after he’d had her again—this time with his hand fisted in her hair while he took her from behind, his rough use making her feel safer than every considerate kiss from every ex-boyfriend she’d ever had—that’s all she could think about. She didn’t know the name of the man who kissed her like she was his world before climbing back out the window he’d crept through hours before.
And she wasn’t going to find out until tomorrow, when she would be forced to come clean to her sister and confess the nightmarish thing she’d done.
Harley might actually forgive her—she didn’t tend to get too attached to her lovers, especially the summer boys she used to entertain her between epic trips abroad—but the stran
ger would hate her. He was in love with her sister. He thought he’d been making love to Harley, not a complete stranger.
As Hannah lay in the dark, in sheets that still smelled of sex and sweat, she was forced to admit that she was a terrible person. She wasn’t the good twin, after all. She was weak and selfish and obviously unfit to become a psychiatrist and counsel troubled kids, not when she was so messed up in the head that she’d slept with her sister’s boyfriend.
The first time, he hadn’t given her time to protest, but she could have stopped things before they came together again, before he held her on his chest and promised she would always be under his protection, or before she whispered “I love you, too” as he eased out onto the tree limb beneath the second story window.
Liar. She was such a miserable liar.
She didn’t know if Harley loved the man, but Hannah barely knew him. It was impossible to love a man you had just met and barely spoken to aside from some scalding hot pillow talk.
She knew that, but as she got up to put the sheets on to wash and start a pot of coffee—sleep was going to be impossible, might as well help the insomnia along—she couldn’t help wishing that she didn’t have to tell her stranger the truth. A selfish, wicked part of her secretly hoped that Harley would never come back to her summer apartment, that she would hop the next flight to Paris and disappear the way she sometimes did, usually right when Hannah needed her the most.
And then Hannah could meet the man again, learn his name, and start figuring out what it would take to make him hers.
In the years to come, she would think of that selfish, wicked wish again and again, wondering if wishes like that had a power others didn’t. Wondering if her greedy longing was the reason her sister had been murdered and Hannah would never see her best friend’s face again.
Even when her Aunt Sybil spirited her away from Harley’s very private, very secret wake, insisting it was past time she learned about the darkness that haunted their family, Hannah couldn’t bring herself to blame fate or her father’s enemies for her sister’s death.
A Down and Dirty Christmas: Spend Christmas on the Naughty List Page 22
