A Choice of Fate

by Jezz de Silva

  He dragged himself out of the quicksand that’d almost drowned him and closed the distance between them. “Sounds like we need a contract. I might know a pretty good lawyer.”

  The tension eased from her shoulders as she shook her head. “I don’t trust lawyers.”

  A meter of moonlight separated them, but her presence embraced him as surely as if she’d tackled him. “Me neither.”

  A hint of the smart-arse grin that drove him nuts curved the corner of her mouth as she extended her hand. “One casual, private vacation fling between two consenting adults before they both return to their careers and real lives.”

  There was nothing casual about the electricity crackling from her fingertips. And this so-called vacation fling had enough strings and trip wires hanging off it to capture a ninja.

  He ignored the huge countdown timer ticking above their heads and captured her hand. “We fling each other around for a few weeks before shaking hands and returning to our real lives. No commitments, no regrets, no awkward family gatherings in the future.”

  He couldn’t figure out whose laughter sounded faker. And if he hadn’t been so preoccupied playing it cool, he might’ve realized what a huge freaking mistake touching her was. Because now that he had hold of her he never wanted to let her go.

  …

  If Olivia’s heart hadn’t been beating so fast, she might’ve laughed at the extraordinary measures Jarrah took to avoid her gaze. It was just as well he hadn’t looked at her, because she’d tried letting go of his hand twice already and only succeeded in clinging to him even tighter.

  She didn’t want to let him go. Hell, she wanted to drag him down into the dirt and lick every rock-hard inch of him. The longer she lingered in this fairy tale, the deeper she tumbled, and the harder and more painful the journey back home would be.

  Three weeks was way too long for a casual fling. And somehow nowhere near long enough. But what would she regret most when she returned to L.A. and dove back into eighty-hour weeks and an all-consuming career? An exhilarating—if unwise—affair with an incredible man, or holding something back because she was too scared to live? Ignoring the consequences lurking on her horizon, she tightened her grip and pulled herself deeper into the dream.

  She splayed her free hand over his chest and released the bottom lip she’d been chewing. “So when do we start flinging each other around?”

  His body turned to stone beneath her touch while the night swallowed her words. Long seconds passed before a sigh seemed to drain the strength from his body as he stared up into the heavens. It was as if he’d been fighting the same gravity that’d dragged her through the moonlight toward him. Her pulse raced to keep pace with the heart thudding beneath her palm as she leaned closer and breathed him in.

  Inch by agonizing inch, his gaze dropped. Sliding free of her grip, he whispered a curse and caressed her cheek with his fingertips. “You sure?”

  She inched her hands up his chest and locked them around his neck. “Are you?”

  Hesitant, soft, gentle, the kiss was nothing like the ones they’d assaulted each other with the night before. They couldn’t blame bar fights, fatigue, or adrenaline for their actions. This was premeditated insanity, and the longer his lips lingered on hers and the more her tongue danced with his, the further tomorrow and whatever the hell it brought drifted away.

  He eased out of her embrace just long enough to spread the blanket on the ground before pulling her against him and exploring her body with his lips, his tongue, and his hands. Surrendering, she melted against him and savored every caress, shared breath, and gentle rock of their hips.

  Her threadbare T-shirt and bra provided little protection against the impact of his touch as he trickled fingers over her breasts. He slowed just long enough to torture her nipples through the cotton and have her groaning into his mouth before capturing her waist.

  She nibbled his bottom lip before trailing her teeth along his stubbled jaw toward his ear. “You’re going to pay for that, cowboy.”

  His whispered chuckle rumbled through her as she slid her hands beneath his shirt and scaled his torso with her fingertips. His hands kept pace with hers until he cupped her breasts and gently massaged her nipples through the very practical, if not sexy, bra she’d thrown on in her haste to escape her room. With every moan leaking out of her, and every thrust of her hips, his delicate torture intensified until she wrenched off her top and clawed at his shirt. Breathless sighs transformed into groans, whispered moans to curses, and delicate caresses into a wrestling match that had buttons popping, cotton tearing, and zippers grinding open.

  The tension that’d turned her into a jittery mess finally gave way as he battled her bra strap and she fought his belt. What started with a choked splutter morphed into a chuckle before descending into uncontrollable laughter as she gave up on his belt, dropped her head into the delicate forest of hair covering his heaving chest, and threw her arms around him to keep from collapsing.

  He launched one more assault on her bra before cursing and trapping her against his torso. “I swear I’m smoother than this.” He broke free of her embrace and captured her face before dropping his forehead to hers. “Christ, you’ve turned me into a bumbling idiot, woman.”

  He could’ve taken her to a fancy restaurant, booked a five-star hotel’s penthouse, bathed her in Dom Pérignon, and rained rose petals and diamonds down on her while Usher did his thing in the background, yet nothing could’ve made her feel sexier or more wanted than the frustration, embarrassment, and lust warring for control of his features.

  She considered adding to his humiliation by unclipping the bra herself, but her racing heart made controlling her own hands impossible. Without shifting her gaze from his, she hitched her trembling fingers beneath her bra and slowly peeled the Lycra up and over her head. The move was far from sexy yet completely necessary given her desperation for the man standing just beyond her reach. A pained groan echoed through the silence as her breasts spilled free. The cool night air hardened her already aching nipples, yet all she could focus on was the bulge straining against his jeans and the memory of coming all over that cock as he plunged deep inside her.

  “No.”

  She froze with her fumbling fingers trapped inside her jeans and looked up to find him jutting out his hands and shaking his head. For a terrifying instant she feared the madness she’d planned had ended before it’d begun. The panic constricting her chest was almost as overwhelming as the heat pooled between her thighs and made it impossible to suck in enough breath to open her mouth.

  She hadn’t even released the waistband of the panties she’d been about to tug down when he attacked.

  The nervous teenager who’d disarmed her anxiety with his own desperation had been replaced by the smooth operator she’d heard so much about as he claimed her. He made love to her tongue, her lips, and her throat with his mouth and left a trail of smoldering ruins as he trickled liquid fire over her breasts with his fingertips. She tried escaping the exquisite torture to create some havoc of her own only to discover the hands that’d battled her bra just moments ago worshipped her with a gentleness she couldn’t bring herself to escape.

  The symphony his hands played over her had her debating whether her feminine charms had turned him into a nervous wreck or his earlier clumsiness had been just an act to ease her fears. Before she’d figured out which scenario melted her heart more, he dropped to his knees and her brain checked out for good.

  The path of destruction he’d carved over her breasts and stomach cooled as he nuzzled her belly and slid her jeans and panties over her hips and down her legs. He braced one arm around her butt while parting her thighs with the other. His whispered groan caressed her sex before he gently brushed the backs of his fingers over the pubic hair that had survived that evening’s manic grooming session. She made the mistake of looking down only to find him staring back up at her from between her breasts as he nuzzled her sex and flicked her clit with his tongue. Soft and de
licate, his mouth was the complete opposite of the steel muscles encasing her legs.

  With each gasped breath and helpless moan, she surrendered to him until he supported her entire weight. He continued kissing, licking, and sucking until the only things keeping her upright were the limp fingers tangled in his hair and the male worshipping her pussy.

  Caress after caress, pull after pull, thrust after thrust, she slid deeper into the abyss until her body surrendered to the delicious pressure between her thighs. She clawed her fingers into his scalp and drove her clit into his mouth as shockwaves tore through her and she cried out into the night.

  …

  Jarrah clamped his arms around Olivia’s waist and savored every shuddering convulsion. Her scent was almost as intoxicating as the taste of her, and if it hadn’t been for his desperation to slide inside her, he’d have spent the rest of the night with his face buried between her thighs and his hands exploring every crest and valley of her body.

  She gasped in between groans and slowly eased her death grip on his hair while she melted over him. The feel of her hanging limp and sated in his embrace made him feel like the king of the freaking universe. Supporting her lower back with one arm, he slid the other behind her thighs and scooped her into his arms. She squeaked in shock and stiffened before her dazed eyes found his.

  “I got you.” He still had no idea what he’d done to deserve her, but for however long this roller coaster ride continued, he had her, and he was wasn’t letting go anytime soon.

  She curled around him and claimed his mouth. Her eyes never left his as she captured his cheeks in her hands and licked herself from his face. With every one of her evil grins, his intentions of taking it slow grew more ludicrous. She knew exactly what she did to him, and that only added to his desperation.

  He’d felt like a grade-A sleazebag for the depraved things he’d imagined doing to her. He wanted to fuck her forever, but if she rubbed herself over his crotch one more time, either his cock would split apart or he’d embarrass himself.

  He laid her down beside him and braced his arms on the blanket to prevent her from dragging him down on top of her. He needed space to pull himself together, yet as soon as that creamy expanse of fantasy and mayhem stretched out beneath him he realized his mistake. He’d never met a breast he hadn’t liked, and as far as the female form went, he’d considered himself bloody lucky to have any woman share her body with him, but the woman splayed out before him was something else.

  Unable to figure out what the hell to look at first, he lowered his gaze from her teasing eyes to her seductress’ smile before lingering on her chest. It was as if her breasts had been created to fill his hands alone, yet it was her taut, pink nipples that had him licking his lips like some rabid mongrel.

  “Like what you see, cowboy?”

  He tried getting his mouth to work and gave up after the third attempt. Nodding pathetically, he watched on in paralyzed silence as she toed off her boots and socks and slid free of the panties and jeans scrunched around her calves. Her skin glistened in the moonlight as she rose to her knees before him and trailed a finger along his parted lips, down his chest, and over the bulge in his jeans. “My turn.”

  He captured her hand and shook his head. “I can’t— I mean— I haven’t got long.”

  “Toughen up, cowboy.”

  Her husky chuckle distracted him long enough for her to escape his hold and drag him down onto the blanket. While she yanked off his boots and jeans, he stared up at the universe unfolding above him and wondered what the hell he’d gotten himself into. He’d gone from predator to prey in a week. God only knew what she’d do to him in the time they had left. He only hoped they’d survive the inevitable crash landing.

  He gritted his teeth and crushed the blanket in his fists as her fingers sank beneath the waistband of his briefs and carefully peeled the soaked cotton over his erection. He could almost hear the comical twang as his cock sprang free.

  “My, my, I guess you did like what you saw.”

  He looked down to find her grinning at him over the glistening head of his cock as the cool night air quenched his naked manhood. She dipped her finger in the pre-come oozing from the tip of his cock before sliding her glistening finger between her swollen lips. While she sucked and licked her finger clean and slowly pumped him with her other hand, he clawed at the blanket in a desperate attempt to stay in the game.

  The pitiful shake of his head was almost as pathetic as the choked plea leaking from his mouth. She shook her head, winked, and engulfed his cock with her smiling lips. He cursed into the night and bucked off the blanket only to have her tighten her hold on his hips and ride out his protest before circling the head of his dick with her tongue.

  He froze beneath her and heaved in air while trying to disarm the countdown timer she’d kicked into overdrive. His futile attempts to delay the inevitable by focusing on the emails clogging his inbox and the case files piling up on his desk crashed and burned as she sucked him into complete and total surrender.

  And just like that, the wet heat she’d been slowly killing him with vanished and the cool night air quenched his cock. Looking down, he once again found her smiling at him while absently trailing the tip of her tongue up and down his glistening shaft. “I told you you’d pay.”

  It could’ve been the mischief in her voice or the challenge in her eyes. It could even have been the simple truth that she was the most incredible woman he’d ever met, but something snapped inside him, something primal. Shoving upright, he grabbed hold of her and flipped her onto the blanket. He didn’t want to come in her hand, or even in her mouth. He wanted to come inside her, he wanted to claim her, he wanted to feel her body clenching around his cock and watch those eyes roll back in her head as she gave in to him over and over again.

  Snatching a condom from his jeans, he ripped open the plastic and yanked the latex over his cock just as she sprang onto her knees. With a feral grunt, she shoved out his hips with her knee and hauled him onto his back before straddling him and locking her forearms around his head.

  Her breath poured over him as he gasped in air and stared at the woman glaring back at him. Tightening her thighs around his, she sank her weight onto his waist and pressed her forehead to his. “You’re mine.”

  …

  Olivia melted into the warm muscle encasing her and grinned up at the universe smiling down on her. Jarrah’s heart thudded beneath her ear and counted down the seconds before they’d have to find their clothes and sneak back home. Home. She’d been here just a week, and this magical place already felt like a home.

  She’d scrolled through the action replay of what she’d done to him while her heart rate had settled back into something resembling normal and still had no idea what had come over her. She’d never been one to lie back and let her partner lead, but she’d never mauled someone before, either. Then again, she’d never wanted a man as much as she’d wanted him. And the fact he seemed to enjoy relinquishing control to her as much as she enjoyed attacking him only intensified her addiction.

  She bit him again while toying with the fluffy trail of dark hair leading to his exhausted manhood. The evidence of his release glistened in the moonlight and she couldn’t help herself. Wrapping her fingers around the shaft, she slowly pumped while circling his nipple with her tongue.

  He groaned and licked her ear. “I can’t get enough of you.” As if backing up his whispered threat, he stiffened in her hand.

  Her body responded as she knew it would while memories of what she’d just experienced replayed over and over in her mind. His contorted features gazing up at her, his body convulsing and thrusting her into the air, and his cock impaling her as he groaned her name into the night and shattered beneath her. The sound of her name pouring out of him while he’d emptied himself inside her had dragged her over the edge and had her plummeting into her own madness.

  He fumbled for his jeans and yanked out another condom before rolling it over his erection. She h
elped as best she could, rubbing here, squeezing there, massaging this, stroking that. However, her assistance only seemed to fluster him even more. Then again, that might have been her plan all along. Driving him crazy was very quickly becoming one of her favorite pastimes. Right up there with arguing with him, laughing with him, and now making love with him.

  He cursed and rolled on top of her, effectively pinning her body with his. She considered fighting for her freedom, but there were a hell of a lot of worse places to be than trapped beneath a man who turned her on as much as he melted her heart. A warrior, a scholar, a friend, and now a lover, Mereki the Guardian, who’d flipped her life upside down in just one week.

  He cradled her face in his hands and pushed between her thighs as he trailed kisses across her forehead and down her nose. She opened her thighs and mouth for him before capturing him in her arms and legs and pulling him close.

  With each delicate kiss, he sank deeper until he joined their bodies. “This isn’t over.”

  She gasped and shook her head as she dove into the black pools staring down at her. “Ditto.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jarrah cursed and shook his head while aimlessly scrolling through screen after never-ending screen of notifications. He’d tidied up all the loose ends, emptied his inbox, brought Charlie up to speed on everything that might pop up, and given his clients three months’ notice, yet the phone calls, texts, and emails never stopped. Yet the only thing his business brain could focus on was what the hell Manningham was up to. If the fucker launched another attack on Wingarra, he’d at least have something to get his mind back on track. But all he could do now was wait and try not to go batshit crazy.

  He couldn’t blame the people he served for wanting their pound of flesh. If he paid what they did for his services, he’d want ’round-the-clock support as well. Problem was, it’d never felt like work before. The rush of boardroom warfare, the satisfaction of pampering his clients, and the pure crack of sticking it to the same gatekeepers that’d kept him out of their clubhouse for most of his life had driven him. The money, flashy cars, and penthouse were just cherries on a pretty freaking amazing sundae.