“Eagle,” she says more urgently.
I gaze up at her.
“I don’t think I can stay on my feet.”
I stand then. We’re at the foot of the bed. “Lay down on the edge of the mattress, Serafina. Spread those beautiful legs for me.”
I let her do her thing, drooling as she rushes to do my bidding. I can tell she’s anxious. She lies back on the bed and I hover above. Damn, she has a sweet face. I dip down and claim her mouth, our tongues swirling together in a mad dance. She tastes like whiskey and me. We’re so close—so fucking close to making this happen. Our kiss deepens as I snake my hand down her body. My thumb finds her clit and I work it hard, circling one way, then the other. She rocks against my hand, pumping her hips seductively. I swallow her cries, bringing her closer and closer to the edge.
There’s an undeniable innocence about her and it turns me on more than anything. How many guys has she been with? One? Two? Fuck . . . She breaks our kiss and throws her head back, mumbling something I don’t understand, her pussy throbbing against my hand.
The rush of satisfaction washes over me. I made this beauty come with my thumb. Wait until my cock is buried eight inches deep.
Standing up, I watch her closely as I shuck my cut and T-shirt, dropping them on the floor and sliding them aside with my boot. Her eyes are shut, her perfect nipples hard and ready to be sucked.
Just as I’m about to kick my boots off, her eyes pop open. “T-that was incredible.”
“That was just the beginning, baby.”
“I need a drink.”
Not opposed to the idea, I nod. She slowly moves off the bed and walks over to the table, uninhibited in her nakedness. That’s the benefit of a dancer—their bodies are like works of art meant to be seen.
She shakily pours two glasses of whiskey, then returns to the bedside and offers me a drink. I take the glass and tap it against hers, consuming the whiskey in one swallow. She’s less greedy than I am, taking her time.
I’m like a goddamned cobra ready to strike. “Get another drink, sweetheart, you need it.”
She collects my glass, too, and returns to the table. I finish undressing, and when she turns around, my erection is waiting to meet her. Her eyes widen with curiosity and she looks at me like she’s never seen a dick before.
She shoves the almost-full glass at me.
“Trying to get me drunk?” I ask, taking it.
“Do I need to?” She’s still staring at my cock.
“I’m already high. On you.”
We both polish off the liquor and this time I set our glasses on the floor, not letting her get more than a couple inches away from me.
The tension in the air is palpable as our gazes lock again.
“What about protection?” she whispers.
I hold up a foil wrapper. “Taken care of.”
She nods in appreciation, licking her lips. “This is . . .”
I don’t want to know. I just want to feel her. Without thinking, I’m on her, pulling her onto the bed. I straddle her hips, lifting and squeezing her generous tits together. I lick one nipple, then the other, catching her piercing between my teeth. I tug and she hisses at the pain, but her face says it all—she likes it. I do it again, pinching her other nipple at the same time.
She arches underneath me, her eyes closed and lips parted. Her fingernails dig into my arms.
She’s so soft and sweet. Everywhere I look, everywhere I touch, it’s the same. I can’t get enough. Moving upward, I capture her mouth again, taking another taste. She curls her fingers in my hair, dragging her fingernails down the back of my skull.
“Spread your legs, sweetheart.”
She opens for me and I rock back on my heels, breathing in everything Serafina. I move down her body then, so I have an unobstructed view of her pussy. I can smell her excitement. Her taste is still in my mouth. I trace the shape of her lips. My fingers are saturated and I can’t help myself. Way too many thoughts race through my mind as I tuck two fingers inside her. I slowly slide them in and out and she grinds against my wrist.
Remembering the wild little badass I encountered at Lazaro’s house gets me hotter. I reach for the condom wrapper I dropped on the mattress. Still stroking her pussy, I use my teeth to rip the foil open. She gazes down at me and smiles. I know what she wants. My thumb rolls over her swollen clit and she moans. I do it again and her ass comes off the bed. Oversensitivity means she’s ready to go.
I roll the condom over my cock and then stretch over her, lifting her arms above her head.
There’s a burning need inside me to put my demons to rest, to forget my painful past. The beautiful face I’m staring at could be the catalyst to jump start my life again. She’s everything a man could want. But I’m not a typical man.
I move my hips, positioning myself at her opening. She tries to break free from my grip, but I hold on tight and kiss her. Our tongues swirl together as I rock into her. She’s so slick and too fucking tight. I stop moving, circling my hips so she can get used to me inside her, even though I only made it in a couple inches.
She squirms underneath me and I release her hands. Framing my face with her palms, she pulls me down and kisses me—igniting my heart. Goddamnit, it’s been too long since I’ve kissed like this—with meaning behind it. Yeah, this is lust-driven, but there’s something powerful behind her green eyes. Depth I’m not used to. There’s also an emptiness that reflects my own hollowed-out soul.
We match, that’s what I told her on more than one occasion. I thrust deeper, making it in another couple of inches. She cries out and I look down at her.
“Okay?” I ask, not wanting to rush it or hurt her.
“Yeah.”
Her muscles are so fucking tight. She needs to relax. “Wrap your left leg around my waist,” I tell her.
She does, making it easier to penetrate her the rest of the way. Once I’m buried inside her, I start to move again, very slow at first. Surprisingly, she hooks her other leg around me and locks her ankles behind my back. Fuck it. Game on.
I lean in and bite her lower lip as I hammer deep and hard.
“Eagle . . .”
Vise grip. That’s all I can think about. Then my balls start to tingle and tighten. I’m losing it like a lousy teenage fuck would. Gritting my teeth and closing my eyes, I try to concentrate on the rhythm, on the unspoken pleasure I’m giving her.
“Eagle,” she calls my name. “I-I’m coming again.”
I stop abruptly and open my eyes, desperate to watch her unravel. If there was a Richter scale for orgasms, pretty sure Serafina would register as a nine point nine.
Serafina
Twice already. That’s how many times Eagle has made me come without even having to try. I hang on for dear life as my insides pulse uncontrollably. The man I love is buried inside me, and I can’t find the words to describe how it feels. He’s perfect—so thick and hard. It hurt at first and I couldn’t get my body to cooperate. But then.
I didn’t know my body could make so much lubrication, but I’m ridiculously wet. He slides in and out with no problem, kissing and licking my lips, his hands squeezing my breasts.
My heart is full for the first time in six years. I fight the tears. I resist the urge to speak three simple words, I love you. Words we never shied away from when it was Eagle and Angel. But now we’re Eagle and Serafina, practically strangers. Yet not really. I know the truth. I feel the pressure of a building storm in my chest—the emotions I can’t hide in my eyes.
Eagle probably thinks it’s lust.
Good. It will make it that much easier for him to forget me when I walk away in the morning and don’t look back. I’m the one who has to live with the bittersweet memory. This is where my two identities intersect. Angel and Serafina were virgins—promised to the same man—both in love with Eagle. Now I’m not. Now I know what it feels like to be baptized by his passion, what it feels like to have him inside me.
He’s relentless and slam
s into me gain. I grunt and sigh, clinging to his strong arms.
“Serafina?”
I gaze at him.
“I want to turn you over.”
I lie flat on my stomach, my legs spread, vulnerable and in need of more of him. I can feel him crawl between my legs and his skilled fingers invade my core.
“Do you want this, baby?”
Oh, God, if he only knew the extent of my need. How deep it runs. What I’m willing to do to keep him—in my dreams. “Yes,” I whisper, once again on fire and overcome by unspoken emotions.
When he leans over and drags me up on my knees, I can feel his rock-hard cock against my back. I’m so ready. Eagle always had a thing for my ass and doggie style. He’d tease me relentlessly about what he’d do to me one day. That day has arrived and I feel helpless as I grab fistfuls of the sheet and prepare for his invasion.
He spreads my ass cheeks and blows on me. His warm breath makes my skin tingle with pleasure—I swear my toes curl. Am I ready for him?
Eagle fills me instantly. The pain and pleasure of it is so intense I scream. Is this what a stuffed goose feels like? Filled and stretched? He grips my hips and the sweet torture begins. He slams into me over and over again, our flesh slapping together. The biggest surprise is how my body responds. The natural inclination to move with him. I’ve never done this before, never been touched and kissed like this. Never been fucked. But in my inexperienced mind that’s what I’m doing to Eagle, screwing him, too.
The friction is a constant reminder of who’s really in control, that in the moment I belong to Eagle. That’s how bikers think, in caveman terms. But so do their women. Mine, I think as he reaches around and cups my breast. Mine, as he rakes his fingernails down the center of my back. Mine, as he hammers into me and growls like an animal. Mine, as he finally screams my name and empties himself inside me, my own orgasm ripping through me.
We’re both out of breath and panting. Neither one of us moves. It feels like I just ran a marathon and my body is rebelling. My pussy is sore, my legs are weak and quivering, and there’s tears in my eyes I can’t let him see.
Finally, he pulls out of me. I hear him mumble something and pad across the room. I turn just in time to see him dispose of the condom in the trashcan by the door. What shocks me is that his cock is still erect. I can’t help but want him again. This is so new and all-consuming. I roll onto my side and curl up.
He stares at me for a long moment, the candlelight giving him an ominous look. “It’s not enough,” he whispers.
“What?”
“I want to fuck you again. Now.”
“Can you really do that?” I lift my head and look at him like he’s some freak of nature.
“Not typically,” he says. “Not usually this quick.”
It confirms what I thought before. We match because we were always meant to be together. Eagle and Angel.
“You’re a goddamned addiction,” he says as he comes at me. “And I’m not finished yet.” He launches himself at me and I barely roll over in time as he captures my wrists and lifts my hands above my head.
He forces my legs apart with his knee and before I can say anything, he drives into me with one powerful stroke. I don’t care about using a condom. I know this man. I love him. I want to be skin-to-skin, no barriers.
“Fuck,” he groans.
I roll my hips, matching his frantic thrusts. Dear God, save me from myself. Please . . .
Chapter Nineteen
Serafina
After making love a third time, Eagle pulled me into his arms and fell into an exhausted sleep. I didn’t move a muscle for three hours, watching the digital clock change minute by minute. At 4 a.m. he’s still snoring lightly and content. We wore each other out, took a shower, then crashed—my heart soaring and sinking like a roller coaster. I’d rather die than take back tonight. There’s no regrets. None. Only the sad reality of what’s to come.
It’s time to leave and I slip from underneath his protective arm. Careful not to make any noise, I take a long look at the man I love. The candle has long since burned out, but there’s a small light on the dresser that he turned on when we got up to shower. I’m grateful for that light now. Though I can’t touch him, I can sure as hell memorize every detail of his face. Blessed with a chiseled jawline and cheekbones a New York model would kill for, the man is so handsome. I love his thick hair and the arch of his eyebrows. I adore the way he’s always playing catch-up with his beard stubble. If Eagle shaves in the morning, he gets a three o’clock shadow.
It makes me laugh. We used to joke about my leg hair growing as fast as his beard. It’s an Italian thing. Happy tears spill down my cheeks. My gaze moves from his face to his arms and chest. Muscles. He works out every day, first thing in the morning. The benefits are obvious. I reach out, but quickly correct my lapse in judgment. Instead, I focus on his tats.
The most significant one is the eagle head that covers his right pectoral. The detail is amazing. LOUISIANA BORN AND BRED is scrolled on his right shoulder. The sheet is tucked around his hips, so I get to admire his stomach, too. The Iron Norsemen name and patch is tattooed on his abdomen, a skull with a rattlesnake coiled around it. Just underneath his belly button is FEAR NONE, RESPECT FEW. Truer words couldn’t be spoken about Eagle. He lives by the Iron Norsemen creed. But the best man I’ve ever known is hidden beneath his rough exterior. A man who is loyal and loving. A man who wants a big family.
Those babies should be ours.
I swipe at my tears. Lingering in his bedroom isn’t going to make it any better. I need to go, and now. “I love you.” That’s all I can say.
I search for my clothes on the floor, gather them up, and leave the room, closing the door.
My purse and backpack are in the bathroom. I get dressed and comb my hair, pulling it back in a sloppy ponytail. Then I turn on the cold water, just enough for a trickle, and splash my face. I turn the faucet off and look in the mirror. Considering I’ve had no sleep, I look pretty good. I know why, I’m coasting on love. The purest kind.
Sure I haven’t left anything behind, I grab my keys off the kitchen counter. There’s a pen and pad of paper by the phone. Should I leave a note? I need to say something. I pick up the pen and write two words—thank you.
I scoot to the door and unlock it. Again I pause, tempted to stay longer. I practically hear Eagle yelling for me to get back in bed. It’s a fantasy. One I’ll never get to experience. Taking a deep breath, I press the lock on the doorknob and step outside, closing myself out of Eagle’s world forever.
I trudge to my VW and manually unlock the driver’s door with my key. Then I climb inside. God, this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. How many women have to walk away from the man they love twice? None that I know. Of course no one I know had two brothers who were willing to sell their only sister into servitude.
I stick the key in the ignition and start my car. It’s a relatively silent engine, so I’m not worried it will wake Eagle up. I back out of the parking space and aim for the long gravel road that ends at the highway. Driving slowly, I watch the outline of Eagle’s cabin fade away in my rearview mirror.
The ten-mile section of highway between Eagle’s property and Shreveport is barren at this time of the morning. The sun hasn’t even peeked over the horizon yet. I’m glad, no one will see me crying. As I enter the Shreveport city limits, I turn on the radio. I test various stations, not expecting much. But when I hear Celine Dion belt out a line from “Water and a Flame,” I nearly swerve off the road.
Jesus. I have a playlist that helped get me through the darkest hours after fleeing Holly Beach. This song is at the top. I listen closely, mouthing the lyrics, feeling every word in my gut.
Miraculously, I clear the city. Traffic picks up now and I need to concentrate, I still have a sixty-mile drive to put behind me. And feelings to sift through and a long nap to take if I’m going to work tonight.
The idea of stripping for strangers makes me sick. A
fter giving my body to Eagle, letting my heart bleed all over that bed we shared, whether he knows it or not, it just doesn’t feel right. I glance in the rearview at myself. My eyes are red and puffy from the long cry.
“Suck it up, girl.” That’s what my mama used to tell me when my brothers knocked me around as a kid. Accept your fate. “Goodbye, Eagle.”
Eagle
Waking up alone after spending a night with a woman like Serafina pisses me off. I rub the sleep from my eyes, stretch, and then yawn as I throw the sheet off. Shit. I haven’t slept that hard and long in years. I gaze at the clock on the nightstand—eight o’clock already. Maybe Serafina is in the shower or making breakfast. One thing is certain, I want to make love again before we leave.
I stomp down the short hallway and step into the bathroom. I take a piss and then wash my hands. Last night was perfect, better than I expected it to be. Our chemistry is explosive, and goddamnit, I want more.
I head for the kitchen. All the lights are off and there’s no sign of Serafina. Maybe she went for a walk. I open the front door. Her car is gone. I’m shocked. I slam and lock the door and grab the cordless phone off the counter. That’s when I see the tablet. Thank you is written on the middle of the page. Thank you? That’s all she has to say to me? Things don’t add up. When that happens I lose my temper.
I dial her number as I stalk back into the bedroom and flip on the overhead light. Did I hurt her? Like an asshole, I let my little head do the thinking and fucked Serafina without a condom. Do I regret it? Hell no. She has the tightest little pussy I’ve ever felt.
Her cell rings and rings and then goes to voicemail. I disconnect and hit redial as I pull the comforter off the floor. The bed is a wreck. I cock my head to hold the headset in place while I shake out the blanket. That’s when I see it, a bloodspot on the center of the comforter. The phone falls to the floor.
She wasn’t on her period last night. So either I fucked her too hard, or Serafina was a virgin and didn’t tell me? That’s the only thing it could be. I don’t know if I should be insulted or take it as the ultimate compliment. That beautiful girl gave her innocence up to be with me. The only other time I’ve slept with a virgin was in high school.
One Taste of Angel Page 11
