Midnight Sins

by Lora Leigh

  When he pulled back to stare up at her, it was to see the storm raging in her gaze and in her emotions as she watched him.

  “What makes you think you could have changed any of the decisions I’ve made?” she asked him then. “It wasn’t your choice, Rafe. It was mine.”

  If that was what she wanted to believe, then that was fine. He’d let her run scared, thinking she needed to realize things on her own, to live, to be certain of the future she wanted. He had never imagined that she would have seen it as his disinterest.

  The fact that she hadn’t told him about their child proved that was exactly how she had seen it.

  “I let you run,” he told her firmly. “I knew you were avoiding me. Just as I knew you were no longer letting your friends know your schedule when you came home from school.”

  Awareness flickered in her gaze then. “It wasn’t a coincidence that you were always there.”

  “You’ve always said you don’t believe in coincidence,” he reminded her. “I thought you would have figured it out.”

  “You always knew when I was coming home and when and where to meet me,” she whispered.

  “I’m smart like that,” he agreed. “Then you stopped informing your friends of your schedule or posting it to the Web journal you kept. You started avoiding me. I should have put a stop to it then. I would have, if I’d even considered the possibility that we would fall in that one percentile where the pill you were taking would fail.”

  “I had the dosage increased when I heard you were back in town,” she admitted as he looked at her again. “I think I knew I couldn’t stay away from you.”

  “I wouldn’t have allowed you to stay away from me.”

  He’d been growing tired of waiting for her. If she hadn’t shown up during that blizzard, then he would have shown up on her doorstep afterward, and he knew it.

  Directing the spray at her thighs, he gently rinsed the soap from her flesh as he parted the delicate folds and watched as streams of water ribboned over her belly where he directed the spray, between her thighs, over the silken folds of her pussy.

  Lather washed over her thighs, along her legs, and to the shower floor below. The thick suds caressed her flesh and were washed away as the scent of sweet almonds filled the air. He’d never thought almonds could be so damned sexy.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered.

  “I’m not finished yet,” he told her, and he wasn’t. “Do you think a quickie in the shower is enough for me? Was it enough for you?”

  It wasn’t enough for her. He could see the embers of need still glowing in her eyes and in the response of her body.

  Tonight was theirs.

  Tonight he would make up for everything he’d never been able to have with her. It was for all the nights they had been apart. It was for all the regret that had filled them both for so long.

  It was for all the nights she had slipped out before dawn, all the nights he hadn’t been certain if she was adventurous enough, experienced enough, for the hungers that swirled inside him. It was for all the years they had been apart whenever he had longed to touch her. Whenever she wasn’t in the room with him. Whenever he thought about her. Ached for her. Dreamed of her.

  Hell, for all the nights he simply hungered for her, and those hungers were often darker, more sexual and erotic, than he’d shown her thus far.

  “Could it ever be enough then?” Confusion darkened her eyes as he watched her face flush in response to the stream of spray he directed over the soft pink bud of her clit.

  “I doubt it, but we’ll find out, love,” he agreed, running his fingers over the soft pad of flesh. “We have a few things to clear up here, and tomorrow we’ll talk, and we’ll clear up the rest.”

  He directed the spray to her clit again, teasing her with the pulse of the water pounding around it. He was rewarded by the quick, sharp intake of breath and the response flaring in her gaze as he glanced up at her.

  “What do we need to clear up?” Her legs parted farther, just a fraction. It was an unconscious shift, a need rising inside her to get closer to the pleasure that was as much subconscious as it was conscious. A primal, instinctive need to get closer to the ecstasy each touch promised.

  Rafe couldn’t blame her. He could feel it himself. It was the reason why no other woman would do. Why he would wait six months, a year, for sex with Cami rather than taking another woman.

  After that first time, it had nothing to do with the sex act or just the physical sensations. It was about a pleasure that went so much deeper than flesh and a release that burned hotter, burned deeper, than simply emptying his tight balls. It was something that couldn’t be found anywhere but with Cami.

  Her pleasure was his. Touching her, stroking her, was as exciting to him as it was to her. He could spend hours just touching her, just making her come. Hell, he could come with her without even being inside her, and that was something that had never happened with another woman.

  “Why are you doing this?” she whispered as he bent forward, laying a kiss against the gentle rise of her mound at the crease of her thigh. “Why like this?” She indicated him kneeling in front of her, touching her, just because he could.

  “Because I love touching you.” Rising, he replaced the shower head before kneeling in front of her again. “Because I’ve spent too many nights wondering what it would be like, Cami. And regretting the fact that you always slipped out before I could.”

  The heated water washed over them, keeping her warm as he let his hands cup the rise of her buttocks and clench gently.

  Her breath caught in another sharp intake that signaled her pleasure rising. His fingers eased between her thighs then, finding the soft fall of her juices beginning to build there.

  Slick feminine heat met his touch as her lashes fluttered in surrender and in acceptance of whatever touch, whatever hunger, he gave her.

  He chose that moment to move.

  Straightening, he quickly turned off the steamy water before jerking a towel from the heated rack he’d turned on earlier and wrapping it quickly around her. Picking her up in his arms, he was surprised there were no objections as her arms looped around his shoulders.

  She was staring at him suspiciously, perhaps uncertainly. She didn’t know what to expect, but he knew what she sensed. She had to sense the intent rising inside him. The certainty that after tonight the rules would definitely change between them. If they didn’t, then he might have to just lock her in his bedroom and keep her fucked into submission.

  “So many secrets,” he said as he laid her in the bed, took the extra towel he had grapped, and hurriedly dried himself. “I should have known you were hiding from me, Cami.”

  Then he returned his touch to the lover he should have fully claimed long before now. If he had, then there would have been no secrets between them.

  “I should have never given you the time I thought you needed to be free,” he told her as he used her towel to dry her gently from head to toe. “You’ve never been free, have you, Cami?”

  Her tongue licked over her lips in a charming, nervous little gesture. “Whenever I was with you. I was always free with you, Rafe. I was always me.”

  Until she had lost their child. Until there were secrets she had to protect.

  Allowing her freedom had been the point of staying away from her, though. He had believed that to be free she needed to be away from him. That his possessiveness, his dominance, would restrict her, would bind her to him rather than allowing her to be certain what she wanted.

  The truth was, even with the possessiveness, she would have at least had someone to hold on to. Someone who loved Cami just for herself, just for the compassion, the kindness, and the laughter she gave. Those were gifts she never expected payment for. She hadn’t even asked for the same compassion and kindness, let alone the laughter. And it was a good thing, because she damned sure hadn’t had it.

  Tossing the towel aside, he came over her, his lips covering hers as she me
t his kiss with a soft, whimpering little sigh.

  He loved the sounds she made as she loved his touch, reached for it, pleaded for more. There was something more exciting, something more intense, about loving Cami than there had ever been with any other woman.

  The pleasure was sharper, more intense, and more heated than anything he had ever known before.

  As her fingers speared through his hair, gripping the thick strands, Rafe could feel her giving herself up to each sensation, allowing it to immerse her, to swamp her with the ecstasy.

  She gave herself to him, completely, and he loved every second of it. There were no pretenses, no simulated moans, arches, or faked responses.

  It was all completely natural, completely Cami. It was a woman reaching for the pleasure she was owed, willing to pay any price for it but, even more, willing to love in return for it.

  As she arched to him, her thighs spreading as he came between them, Rafe let his lips wander from hers, to her jaw, to the sensitive flesh beneath and then along the side of her neck. She tilted her head in response, allowing him access to even the most tender skin just below her ear and shuddering with pleasure as he kissed it gently.

  Kittenish little sighs and rumbling moans met each caress, assuring him he was drawing her deeper and deeper into the pleasure he wanted to create for her.

  He wanted her completely immersed in his touch, reaching eagerly for the rising rapture beginning to spread around her. Through her.

  With his lips, his tongue, the rasp of his teeth over her nipples, the feel of them against his tongue, he pushed her higher. His lips surrounded one tight peak, drawing it inside and working the engorged, sensitive tip against his tongue as he pleasured the other with his fingers.

  Her nails bit into his shoulders as she fought to hold on to him. Hips lifting, her mound pressing against his hip as he lay between her thighs, she rubbed the silky, slick flesh against him.

  Each touch, each stroke, each kiss designed for the ultimate pleasure for her, the ultimate surrender.

  It was that surrender he needed. That complete feminine submission to every stroke, every caress, ever naughty act. Only in that submission would the subconscious trust, the bond he needed between them, come. He wanted her to trust, to know, to instinctively understand that he was more than just her lover; he was her other half. The one she told her secrets to. The one she made secrets with.

  “Rafe,” she whispered his name, the imperative hunger rising inside her as he continued to kiss his way down her body, stretching out between her thighs to taste the lush sweetness spilling from her sex.

  Bright, wicked shards of sensation whipped through her senses as she felt Rafe’s lips brush against the mound of her pussy as his hands pushed beneath her, lifting her to the caress.

  His tongue licked over the silken folds, slid into the narrow slit hidden by the swollen, flushed lips of her cunt.

  Knees lifting, she spread her thighs farther, her heels pressing into the bed to lift her closer to him.

  She could feel his finger at her rear, parting the curves and sliding into the narrow cleft to caress her entrance gently with the tip of his finger, erotic, an edge of the forbidden. Cami felt her senses awakening further, reaching eagerly for each new sensation. Fingers of electric pleasure raced up her spine, wrapped around her senses, and spread through the erogenous points of her body.

  Her nipples tightened further, aching with such sharp need that her fingers lifted to them, gripped them, tugging at them as her hips churned beneath each hungry swipe of his tongue over her clit, through the swollen folds, and lower to the entrance to her pussy.

  There he rimmed the entrance with his tongue, flickered against it as he slid one hand back while the other caressed and played at the entrance there.

  Cami felt her fingers clenching in his hair and fought to pull at it too sharply to remember that Rafe was attached to his hair and she really didn’t want to cause any loss of the thick blue-black strands that framed his face.

  But God, it was so hard to restrain herself. The pleasure was streaking through her. It tore through her senses, wiping away any thought but that of his pleasure. Of the incredible feel of his fingers, his lips and tongue, stretched between hers.

  She was only distinctly aware of the fact that he was preparing her back entrance, lubricating it by slow degrees as he drew his fingers back, returned with the lubricant, then repeated the process.

  She knew what was coming. She knew what he planned to do, and the conflict rising inside her in regards to it did nothing to halt her pleasure of it.

  If she decided she didn’t want it, then she would do something about it the moment she decided it. But not right now. Not yet. Not until she saw where the pleasure was taking her, how extreme it could become, and until she actually found the strength to make herself refuse him.

  She couldn’t do it.

  The pleasure was too wild and much too intense.

  “Oh God, Rafe.” Her hips jerked as she felt the first finger press inside her, sliding past the tight ring of muscles that clenched almost violently, involuntarily, around his finger.

  Cami gasped for breath, the alternation of pleasure and pain sensations exploding through her body with such quick progression that she couldn’t keep up.

  “That’s it, baby,” he groaned between her thighs as he laid another kiss over her clit. “Just let me have you. All of you, Cami. Give it all to me.”

  Give him everything? But hadn’t she already done that years ago? Hadn’t she already given him her deepest heart, the most vulnerable depths of her soul? Hadn’t he owned that since the night she met him?

  His finger began to move slowly, pulling back, leaving her body, returning, slicker than before, pressing back, and heating her further as the lubricant prepared her.

  Cami could feel herself climbing that edge of sensation so sharp, so intense, as rapture teased the edges of her senses.

  With each stroke of his fingers she wanted more. She wanted to feel that sharper, more exacting pleasure. She wanted each thrust to stretch and burn to push every limit of pleasure that could exist.

  And God only knew why she was aching for it. Reaching for it.

  “Rafe, please,” she cried out as he returned again with only the same thrust, though it was slicker, wetter, than before.

  “More, kitten?” he asked, his tone strained. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

  “You know what I want,” she moaned desperately. She could feel the desperation rising inside her, sense it beginning to rise out of control.

  His finger pulled back, but he added another, increasing the sensations with its return. “Oh God, yes,” she demanded fiercely at that slightest edge of what she needed so bad. “More, Rafe. Please. You know what I need.”

  The thrust was followed by his fingers spreading, stretching the entrance. The unique burn racing through her. But still, it wasn’t enough.

  Her hips thrust back at him, writhing into the caress as she felt her breathing becoming heavy, restricted.

  She could feel something wild and uncontrolled rising inside her with each thrust and stretch. It was like being locked, imprisoned, in a whirlwind of sensation so hot, so imperative, that fighting against it was impossible.

  Her knees lifted further, her hips lifting and thrusting as the need for that sharper, burning sensation was tearing through her.

  She felt on the verge of tears. She’d never been so desperate for a touch that she had no idea how to gain. For a caress she had never had yet sensed was awaiting her.

  Perspiration gathered on her, burning, the hunger became so sharp, so intense, she felt on the verge of screaming.

  When Rafe pulled back, his caress, his fingers, abandoning her, she reached for him desperately, a cry parting her lips as confusion laced her senses. She didn’t understand what she needed. She sure as hell had no idea how to attain it.

  A second later Rafe was rising above her, pulling her legs over his, lifting her hips
until he could move into place.

  Lifting her legs until her ankles lay against his shoulders, Cami watched, panting for air as he gripped the shaft of his cock, bent forward, and tucked the thick, engorged tip against that tender, unbreached entrance with dominant demand.

  Then slowly, his hips began to press forward.

  Cami felt the flames erupt first. The burning sensation of her flesh beginning to stretch tore through her. Untouched nerve endings were suddenly, shockingly revealed as the puckered entrance began to stretch to accept the heavy impalement of his cock.

  She stared up at him, her gaze locked with his as he gripped her hips, held her still, and began to rock against her. The small thrusting motions began to work his flesh slowly inside her rear.

  With her legs lifted and lying against his shoulders, the angle of penetration enabled him to move inside her as he watched her face, watched her eyes glaze in mesmerizing pleasure.

  The ultrasnug tissue of her ass opened and spread around the wide crest of his dick as he eased inside to meet the tighter, more sensitive ring of muscles just inside the entrance.

  Pressing into it, he watched as she strained against him, her fingers clenching into the blankets beneath her, her back arching as she seemed to flush from head to toe.

  Cloudy gray eyes turned thunderous. Her lips parted; lashes fluttered over her eyes.

  He tightened his thighs, held her hips tighter, and then, as he watched her face, began to press past that final, clenched ring of muscles that began to tighten and milk the head of his cock.

  “Rafe. Oh yes, more,” she moaned, her head thrashing against the mattress. “I can’t stand it. Please, Rafer, I can’t stand—” The erotic cry was both a protest and a plea as he felt the violently engorged crest pop through the tightened ring to sink inside the desperately flexing entrance of her anus.

  Cami felt the sensations, wild and erotic, suddenly exploding through her. The excitement of the nerve-rich flesh combined with the erotic, forbidden classification of the act sent her senses careening.

  She wasn’t just rising; she was being propelled into a starburst of sensations and pleasure that she had no idea how to process, how to handle.