by Kaylea Cross
A slight smile curved her mouth as she settled on one hip beside him, sweeping that dark, hungry gaze over the length of his body. “I think I like having you at my mercy.”
His fingers flexed restlessly. “So touch me.” His voice was rough, his body on edge. Because he was dying for her touch. To see what she would do to him.
Her eyes snapped back to his, and the feminine hunger and power there made the breath back up in his lungs. Setting one hand beside his head, she leaned down to hover her lips inches above his. Brock bit back a growl, his breathing coming faster. God, kiss me. Touch me.
Her lips settled on his, light as a sigh, and her tongue grazed his lower lip. He opened, lifted his head to increase the contact, needing more. She gave it to him, capturing his head in her hands and kissing him hard and deep. When she stopped a minute later they were both breathing fast and her pupils were dilated.
She stood, faced him as she trailed her fingers down her neck. Teasing him. Brock followed every single movement of those graceful fingers as they traced the edge of the dress down to her cleavage, down to her waist where the tie on her dress was.
She pulled it slowly, never looking away from him. One panel of the fabric slipped open, revealing the upper swell of her breasts for a moment before she reached inside and undid the other tie. She pushed her shoulders back, letting the deep blue fabric slither to a puddle at her feet.
Brock groaned at the sight of her standing there in nothing but a red bra and matching panties. Proud. Strong. His heart thudded, trying to beat out of his chest. “Come here,” he rasped out, glad he was tied up because there was no goddamn way he would’ve been able to keep from touching her now.
She prowled toward him, there was no other word for it, and climbed up to straddle his hips. They both sucked in a breath as she made contact with his erection. Tori leaned her weight on her hands and bent forward to kiss him, rubbing her core against him. He groaned into her mouth, his hips lifting to ease the ache between his legs.
She kissed her way down his chin, nibbled down his neck to his chest, pausing to dart her tongue across his nipple, suck lightly. Brock made a low sound of pleasure and watched her, riveted, while those sweet, soft lips trailed lower. Tracing the ridges of his abs, pausing at his navel before she scooted down his legs to rub her cheek over his confined erection.
He closed his eyes. Swallowed. Wondered how the hell he was going to survive this. He bit back the words on his tongue, the demand that he wanted to see her naked. Kiss and suck her everywhere. Make her crazy. This was her show. He had to let this all unfold in her time.
Her fingers slipped just under the top of his waistband. His eyes popped open to watch as she undid the button, slowly slide the zipper down, the metallic rasp loud in the hushed silence.
She dragged the denim and his underwear over his hips. He lifted to assist her, his cock springing free, the feel of her hands grazing the insides of his thighs as she peeled his jeans and underwear off making the muscles there twitch. He was so fucking hard for her. Aching.
Sitting back on her heels to stare at him, she made a low, hungry sound and coasted her palms up over his thighs. Inch by torturous inch, her fingers caressing as they eased higher, higher, sliding inward…
His entire body contracted when her hand curled around him, the air leaving his lungs in a rush. She bent down, kissed his rigid abdomen, rubbed her cheek against him, the silky fall of her hair trailing over his hyper-sensitized skin. Then she gave him a stroke, the caress of her palm like fire against the swollen head of his cock. Her tongue darted out to lick just below his navel.
Fuck.
Brock held his breath, clenched his fingers around the iron bar, imagining they were clenching in her hair instead. Guiding her mouth lower to his straining flesh.
And then those soft, warm lips brushed the head of his cock. Parted to slide it between them.
He groaned in sweet agony and fought the need to push deeper into her mouth, his eyes slamming closed. The wet glide of her tongue made him shudder, his entire body rigid as she sucked gently. “Christ,” he bit out, being restrained somehow making him a hundred times more sensitive than normal.
“Hmmm,” she murmured, and when he pried his eyes open to look down at her, the arousal in her gaze as she peered up at him with his cock between her lips made the burn so much worse.
Sweat popped out along his spine as he watched her. He hadn’t expected this. For her to want this. He had thought this would be all about her pleasure, about her using his body to take what she wanted. But it sure as hell looked like torturing him like this turned her on.
God.
She sucked him harder, swirled her tongue around him. Watching his face while she waged a brute assault against his control. He gasped when she released him with a soft popping sound, his whole body aching, dying for the release that hovered tantalizingly out of reach.
But all that faded away the moment she sat up and reached back to undo her bra. Watching him, she slid one strap down her shoulder, then the other before baring her breasts to his ravenous gaze and tossing the lace aside.
He swallowed a groan as she cupped them, her thumbs sweeping across the hardened tips. Then she crawled forward up the length of his body and he cursed his bound hands as she straddled his hips and leaned down, dangling her breasts like ripe fruit above his waiting mouth.
He lifted his head to take what she offered. Closing his lips around one tight nipple, a bolt of possessive hunger ripped through him at the soft whimper that spilled from her lips. She slid her hand beneath his head, cradling it, holding him close as he suckled, teased just as she had him. Her hips moved, rubbing her core against his cock as she offered him her other breast, panting softly.
With a gasp she sat up abruptly, the candlelight glowing on her skin, her cheeks flushed, eyes heavy-lidded with arousal. He worried for a moment that something had triggered a bad memory for her, but then she reached down and shimmied out of her panties, skimming them down her legs and off. And when she turned to face him once more, his ravenous gaze went straight to the exposed folds between her thighs, glistening in the flickering light.
He made a low sound of need when she slowly slid a hand down the center of her body, pausing to hover over that tender flesh, her teeth sinking into her plump lower lip. Her lashes fluttered as she caressed herself, her back arching. “You make me so wet,” she moaned shakily.
Brock couldn’t tear his eyes away from her caressing fingertips. He swallowed and licked his lips, dying to taste her, every muscle in his body strung taut.
“Come up here,” he rasped out. He needed to taste her. Right now.
Her eyes lifted to his. She slid her hand from between her thighs and reached her glistening fingertips toward his mouth. Brock moaned and sucked them eagerly, licking the pads of her fingers, the intense arousal in her eyes killing him.
He wrenched his head to the side so he could speak. “Come up here,” he repeated, a husky command instead of a plea this time. He wanted to worship her with his mouth. Give her what she needed.
Her cheeks flushed darker. She hesitated a moment, then eased her way up, finally straddling his face. Still too far away for him to get his mouth where he was dying to put it, the scent and sight of her arousal making his head spin.
“Closer,” he ground out.
Letting out a shaky exhale, she reached up to grasp the top of the headboard and slowly splayed her legs farther apart. A low, dark sound came out of him as he settled his mouth against her parted folds. She gasped, her thighs tensing, but didn’t pull away.
“Stay right there, angel,” he murmured against her, and eased his tongue along her softness.
“Brock,” she moaned, a slight tremor in her thighs as he licked and sucked, pausing to focus on the swollen, rosy bud of her clit.
He growled and went to work on driving her out of her mind. Soft flutters. Slow, licking caresses that delved inside her. And finally, gentle suction around that tender
bud at the top of her sex, his tongue rubbing soft and sweet.
Tori mewled, panting, her hips rocking against his mouth, head tossed back.
That’s right, angel. Let me make you come. He was on fire, totally focused on her, barely managed to bite back a protest when she suddenly lifted away and scrambled to the side.
But this time, it wasn’t because she was scared. No, that was pure, electric heat in her eyes as she slid off the bed and stood before him, her breasts rising and falling with each excited breath. “Condoms?”
Thank you God. “In my bag.”
She practically dove for it, came up with a packet and tore it open. He was hard as fucking stone, his cock flexing, reaching for her when she smoothed the latex over him. He drank in every detail of her as she moved to straddle his hips and paused, setting her hands on his chest before meeting his gaze.
“Slide down on me,” he told her, barely managing to get the words out. His heart hammered at his ribs, all his muscles coiled tight.
One side of her mouth curled up in a sensual smile as she reached down to position him. Her teeth sank into her lower lip as she pressed downward with her hips. Engulfing the head of him in warm, wet heat.
Her swift intake of breath sliced through the haze of pleasure swamping his brain long enough for him to focus on her face. She wasn’t afraid though. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted now as she sank down more, one hand caressing her clit. She looked like a woman totally abandoning herself to sensual pleasure.
As long as he lived, he would never forget the sight of her like that.
Brock swallowed and gripped the rung of the headboard until his knuckles ached, fighting the need to surge upward and impale himself. Tori eased up him a few inches, slid back down, taking more, more, until he was finally buried inside her. He stopped breathing, a shudder ripping through his body.
She sighed, shifted to lean more of her weight on the hand planted on his chest, right over his thundering heart, and began to move. Each slow glide of her sex over the length of him made fire lick up his spine. Every tiny gasp and moan of pleasure from her lips drew his muscles tighter, until he was ready to beg for her to ride him until he came.
The expression on her face was pure, erotic enjoyment, eyes closed, face flushed as she took her pleasure from his body. She was so fucking gorgeous like that, lost to sensation, it almost broke his control.
Heat sizzled along his nerve endings, his cock swelling as he approached the point of no return. And when she leaned down to offer him her breasts once more, his control snapped.
“Untie me,” he growled, no longer caring about the power dynamic, needing only to touch her, hold her and make sure she came before he did.
Her eyes flew open. She stared at him for a heartbeat, hesitating, then reached up to undo the binding with unsteady fingers. Relief slammed through him.
The moment his hands were free, he levered up to grasp her around the back and drew her torso higher so he could suck her nipples properly. A loud, sweet moan rolled out of her throat. She curled her fingers around his shoulder to anchor herself and rocked faster on his cock, her fingers still caressing her clit.
Fuck. Fuck, it was so intense. He reached down to grasp her hip, hold her steady as he lifted into her rhythm, helping her with the angle, his mouth busy teasing her nipple.
“Ah, Brock, ahhh…”
Yeah. Like that.
Just like that.
He gripped her tighter, fought the urge to surge into her, forced himself to keep his thrusts to an easy glide. Her sex squeezed him with each slick stroke, dragging guttural moans out of him that mixed with her plaintive ones.
“Oh, God,” she cried a moment later, her spine arching, fingernails digging into his shoulder as she peaked, her core clenching around him.
Brock was lost.
She rode him through her orgasm, the sounds of her pleasure snapping the last threads of his control. His free hand clamped down on her other hip, his grip desperate as he thrust deep one last time and started to come.
His strangled roar was muffled by her lips as she bent to claim his mouth, her tongue twining with his. Ecstasy tore through him, shockwaves of sensation that obliterated everything else. Finally he sagged back against the mattress, gasping for air. Tori laughed softly and covered his lips with hers, dropped tender kisses all over his face.
Brock groaned and tilted his face up for more, releasing her hips to wind his arms around her back and pull her in tight to his chest. With a sigh she rested her head on his shoulder, her fingers drifting lightly over his right pec.
He closed his eyes and tightened his hold, absorbing the weight and warmth of her snuggled up so trustingly in his arms. He’d never felt this way before, like he’d just had his chest carved open and his heart torn out. And now that twisted bitch Fate was going to take her from him.
The desperation in his grip reflected the emotional turmoil inside him. His mind spun, trying to figure out a way to stave off the inevitable. Anything that would allow Tori to stay in D.C.
But that was so fucking selfish of him. He wouldn’t endanger her life for anything, not even to keep her with him. Although he would make sacrifices for her if it would enable them to stay together. He would consider going with her if she asked him to.
She kissed his jaw and pushed up. “I need to go to the bathroom.”
Reluctantly he let her go, cleaned himself up while she was in the bathroom. When she came out a minute later she paused there in the doorway, an almost shy smile on her face, the candlelight bathing her naked body.
The scars were hardly noticeable now, except the ones around her neck, wrists and ankles. And while he hated them because of what they signified, of the suffering she had endured, they were also physical evidence of that steely inner strength of hers he loved and admired so much.
She seemed surprisingly hesitant as she stood there in the doorway. He reached out a hand. “C’mere.”
Relief flashed across her face and she came to him, her slender curves riveting his attention. He pulled her flush to his body before tucking her head into his shoulder and pulling the covers over them.
Letting the quiet surround them, he ran a hand up and down her back. She was so warm and soft. He felt completely at peace with her. But there was no point in giving her the words crowding the back of his throat. They would only bring pain, not happiness. “You hungry now?”
She tipped her head back to smile at him. “I believe I have worked up an appetite, yes.”
He ordered them room service. They sat cross-legged, facing each other on the bed in the hotel robes. Feeding each other bits of fruit and cheese and chocolate cake by candlelight, talking about their childhoods, politics and the state of the world.
Anything and everything except to acknowledge the fast approaching deadline when they would be separated forever.
After they were done he set the room service tray on the floor and reached for her, unwrapped the robe from her body like he was unwrapping a treasured Christmas gift, and made love to her again. This time he had full use of his hands and put them to good use, pushing her to the brink before stretching out on his back and letting her ride him again. He wanted to take control so badly, roll her over and pin her under him, but he didn’t want to push and it was so damn good this way too.
Tori fell asleep after midnight with her back to his chest, his arm wrapped securely around her ribs. He’d intended to stay awake the rest of the night, not wanting to lose a moment with her, but he was so content he drifted off too.
His phone alarm woke him at four.
No.
His eyes snapped open and he rolled away from Tori to shut it off. When he turned back she was sitting up, the outline of her barely visible in the darkness. “Is it time already?” she mumbled sleepily.
“Yeah.”
She wound her arms around him and crawled into his lap, naked. She didn’t say a word, but the almost frantic way she held him said it all.
/> Brock closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, holding her tight. It felt like someone was cleaving his chest open, his heart aching so bad he could barely breathe.
“How long do we have?” she finally asked a minute later.
“Five minutes, maybe.”
She made a distressed sound and clung harder, burying her face in his neck.
Pain sliced through him, tightening his throat. They sat there in silence, holding each other, not knowing what the hell to do. He’d known there was a risk of devastating them both when he’d agreed to this, but no matter how fucking much it hurt he would never regret it. And he would never, never forget her.
More than five minutes passed before he could gather the strength to do what had to be done. “I gotta go, angel.”
She nodded against his shoulder, her breath hitching, the jerk of her shoulders making his heart split wide open. “Don’t cry,” he begged, the backs of his eyes burning.
“S-sorry,” she whispered. “I can’t help it.”
Fuck. Just…fuck.
He kissed the crown of her head and made himself let her go.
It was like peeling his skin away with a dull knife.
He went to the bathroom, flipped on the light and quickly got dressed, the crushing pressure in his chest getting worse with every second. After washing his face and brushing his teeth, he steeled himself and went back out into the bedroom.
Tori stood before him in a hotel robe, looking impossibly young and fragile, her dark hair loose around her shoulders, her feet bare. And the brave smile she gave him that wobbled around the edges all but killed him where he stood.
As if drawn to her by an invisible wire, he wrapped her up in his arms and crushed her to him. Covered her face in fervent kisses before fusing their mouths together one last time.
It wasn’t enough. Would never be enough and he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to cope with this pain, or knowing that he couldn’t protect her from it either.
His phone chimed again. 04:30. He’d barely get to base on time if he left right this instant.
