One Taste

by Cari Quinn

  “You’re such a sexy witch.” Joining her on the landing, he gripped her chin and caught her mouth in a crushing kiss. “I love when you get rough with me.”

  Laughing, she broke free. “Come along,” Rachel called, sailing up the hall. “Time’s wasting.”

  He trailed her around the corner, his jaw falling open as he glimpsed her posing for him. This must’ve been how she’d felt to turn around to find him mostly naked and handcuffed to her bed. Heat spiraled through him, setting his muscles quaking as it radiated outward. He started opening buttons as he walked toward her, cursing as his fingers fumbled.

  She was too much. Too beautiful, too tempting. He’d never felt anything resembling a desire like this, so powerful it leeched every thought from his mind but torrid vignettes. Of her legs twisting around his hips. Of her sweet, wet pussy taking him deep. Of his cock driving into her, over and over, until her screams bounced off the walls like whips lashing skin.

  She was framed in the open doorway of the elevator, her coat still loosely belted, that come-hither smile firmly in place. He didn’t grasp what was special about this particular elevator until he crossed the threshold. A flick of her thumb whisked the doors shut, trapping them in the slowly rising column of steel and glass.

  Excitement, the darkest, most dangerous kind, slashed like knives through his gut. “And you called me naughty.”

  “Where do I think I learned this sort of behavior?” Rachel circled him, lightly hitting his sides with the strap of her purse. “I never did things like this before you.”

  “I know. I’d have remembered if you’d mentioned having sex in a glass elevator.” Though it cost him, Shawn did nothing to help her as she tossed aside the purse to spread open his shirt.

  “Sex?” She splayed her fingers over his torso, her every movement mirrored in the glass that surrounded them. The lights of New York winked just beyond, obscured by a thin fog. Then the fog wasn’t outside but inside his head, hazing his mind as her nails scraped the flat ridge of his nipples. “This won’t be as tame as sex.” Ribbons of lust coiled around him, winding tighter and tighter as her husky laughter sounded near his ear. “I know you hate the word screw, so we won’t use that one. Got any other ideas?”

  “This is your show.” He was already panting and she’d barely touched him. “Call it whatever you want.”

  “You’re right.” She pulled his sleeves over his shoulders and down his arms. He thought she was just stripping him until the fabric tightened around his wrists. “My show, my rules.” Her lips parted in a proprietary smile as she stopped in front of him. Her gaze started at his cock, fully erect against his stomach, traveling upward until her sooty eyes met his. “I want you to fuck me. Here, for anyone to watch.”

  Her hand shot out, slamming against the control panel to stop their ascent. She quickly shed her coat, and then she was before him in all her naked golden glory, save for her dark fishnet stockings and lacy white garter belt, black heels, and wildly curling brown hair.

  Not all golden. Her lips looked as juicy red as the night he’d fed her strawberries, while her nipples reddened under his feral gaze, and the glistening pink folds between her legs peeked from beneath that narrow whorl of dark hair.

  “Goddamn, you’re gorgeous. Do you have any clue what I want to do to you?” His voice sounded foreign, channeled from the same place he got the strength to remain bound by her flimsy restraints when he wanted -- needed -- to ravage.

  To claim.

  “Tell me.” She stepped closer and ran her palms up his belly until her fingernails scraped his nipples. “I won’t blush this time.”

  He didn’t censor his thoughts as she resumed circling him, using any word, any description that entered his mind while her scent -- both the hot coconut oil one he’d forever associate with her and her own, much more personal aroma -- twined silk cords around his throat.

  As promised, she didn’t blush. Nor did she speak. But her eyes, as dark and deep as the night sky, revealed the extent of her longing as she knelt in front of him to undo his belt. Those wicked eyes flickered as she tugged the belt free of its loops. “Now should I tell you what I intend to do to you?”

  Rachel wound the length of black leather around her wrist, sending the buckle clanking as she went to work on his pants. She peeled off his trousers and briefs, her smile widening as his erection sprung free, thick and hard and already spurting cream. “Maybe I’ll just show you. Would you prefer that?”

  She didn’t wait for his answer. Her mouth enveloped the head of his straining cock in one satiny motion, a heartbeat before she twisted his belt around the base of his shaft and pulled. His raw groan filled the elevator, drowning out the tinny sound of the Aerosmith song he hadn’t realized still played in the pocket of her coat.

  “More?” She drew her mouth away, wetting her lips as she studied his reaction. Through his half-slitted eyes, he saw her felinely sensual smile.

  Repeating her phrase of the other night, he grated, “Do your worst.”

  When she tightened the belt, drawing the buckle over the now purpling crown of his cock, explosions blasted off in his head, setting off a relentless pounding he scarcely recognized as his own heartbeat in his ears. At once, she let off on the pressure, leaving the belt dangling against the muscles bunching and jumping in his thigh as she snaked her tongue under his shaft to lick his balls. Then she cradled them in her mouth, doing things with rolls of her tongue he couldn’t make out through the kaleidoscope of color obliterating his vision.

  She arched up, and her teeth nipped the rock-hard muscles in his abdomen. Pinching flesh, pulling skin. “I want you to beg.” Her voice whipped through the heavy pants filling the elevator. His, hers. He couldn’t tell the difference anymore. Sweat rode her cheekbones and pearled on the swells of her breasts. “The elevator’s soundproof. No one will hear you but me.”

  Trust was a two-way street, he knew. And how could he demand hers when he refused to give his own?

  She took hold of him in both hands and slid her tongue in maddening swirls over his shaft. The animalistic grunts he made weren’t familiar to him, bursting from his throat with machine-gun succession as she yanked the belt free and sent it clattering across the reflective floor of the elevator. And all the while, her musky scent wrapped around him, hammering at his senses until his hunger for her exceeded all bounds.

  His control snapped. He begged. Christ, he all but yelled. But she took and took more, extending her game until he ripped free of his cotton shackles, not caring if he tore the fabric. Hell, he’d walk out of here naked if he got to have her first.

  And he would have her. Like no one ever had before.

  He dragged her up, pushing her back against the glass wall as his gaze swept past her shoulder for one instant to the mind-boggling drop below. The height was staggering, but the sweetness of her mouth as he surged his tongue as deep as the fingers he plunged inside her pussy was more so. Her juices soaked his hand, sliding down his wrist as he corkscrewed his fingers in and out. More, more. Now he was the one thinking it, chanting it against her mouth.

  Relishing her cries, he streaked his mouth down her body to bury his face between her thighs, half-mad to get her taste in his throat. She ground against him, jerking in the arms he clamped around her hips as she rode the wave of pleasure. Knowing what would send over her again, he brutally rubbed her clit with his tongue, letting out a growl as her scream tattered every nerve ending not already pulsing in his body.

  He rose, not giving her enough time to even draw breath as grasped her thigh, lifting it high as he teased her dripping entrance with his cock. She was the one who begged this time, uttering every word he’d ever imagined in his fantasies. He dragged her leg around his waist and slid into her, so deep her heel skewered his back. But even that small pain only intensified the drugging, delicious sensation of her tight wetness sheathing his cock.

  The rhythm of her hips matched his, each parry of their tongues mimicking the thrust
and retreat of his body into hers. Suddenly she went very still, her hands sliding down his sweat-slickened shoulders.

  Their gazes connected, and he fought to pull himself back enough to kiss her once more, tenderly. “Mine.”

  Those dark eyes he’d loved all his life blurred as she arched to take him even deeper. But her mouth remained soft under his. Yielding, pliant. The most delicious surrender he’d ever tasted. “Mine,” she echoed, her body quaking against him. Around him.

  Trembling on the verge, he slapped his hand on the glass above her head, battering her control and shredding his own until his pummeling thrusts sent them over together.

  She floated through the meal with Chrissy and Ryan, then floated home from the restaurant with Shawn’s hand securely gripping hers.

  His expression had glazed when she’d unearthed the clingy dress she’d tucked in her purse to wear to dinner. Even now, a few hours after the most amazing sexual encounter of both their lives -- something he’d offered without her asking, though she’d been sorely tempted -- he still watched her as if he couldn’t get enough.

  Incredible.

  When he insisted she go ahead of him into their room, she assumed he was just being gentlemanly. But her heart leaped into her throat, drumming there, as her stunned gaze swept the suite. Candles dotted the dresser, the bookshelves, filling the room with the scent of vanilla and enough shifting light to make his eyes dance with the flames.

  “God, Shawn…this is beautiful.”

  “You gave me a mind-blowing fuck in an elevator.” His laughter rumbled against her ear as he wrapped his arms around her waist. “And I gave you candles and rose petals on the bed.”

  That she could laugh as tears blinded her said so much. Said everything. She took a step toward the bed and its cover of red, white, and pink rose petals. With the first skim of her fingertips over their velvety softness, she whirled back into his arms and pressed her face against his chest.

  “Hey, hey.” He dashed her tears with his thumbs as he had so many times before. “I thought you liked roses. You usually go for all that feminine crap.”

  “I do.” Her laughter ended in another outburst of tears. “You know me. My heart, my body. And you accept me as I am. That’s why I could give you a mind-blowing fuck in an elevator, because it so wasn’t about that. You got that, didn’t you?”

  Seeing his eyes soften tore at her. “Yeah.”

  “I never understood what the big fuss was about making love. When I was with Ryan, I think I was too young to really know, but now that I do, everything’s changed. I’m not the same person I was when I got off that plane, but you still know me.” Afraid she wasn’t making any sense with her blubbering, she shook her head. “I put you through the wringer all these years.”

  “None of that matters anymore.” He laid his lips against her forehead, and her fingers dug into his shirt just above his heart. That strong, even beat steadied her in ways she could never explain. “I love you. I always have. I always will.”

  Rachel lifted her head, meeting his gaze head-on. She’d hidden long enough. “I didn’t sleep with Ryan. Before you get pissed I didn’t come clean earlier, you might as well get pissed about this too. He never dumped me.” When his Adam’s apple bobbed, she forced out the rest. “He asked me to go to New York with him. And I said no.”

  Questions sprang up in his eyes, followed by the dawning understanding that erased them.

  “I told you I’d never leave you,” she whispered.

  He crushed her close. “Why didn’t you tell me? If I’d known --”

  “I couldn’t tell you what I couldn’t face myself. It’s not supposed to work out this way.” She swiped at the tears rolling down her face, ten years’ worth. “The girl’s supposed to end up with the bad boy with the heart of gold. Kate Winslet doesn’t love Billy Zane; she loves Leonardo.”

  It was his turn to laugh. “You’re telling me you couldn’t admit you’re in love with me because of Titanic?”

  “You never liked that movie.”

  “No kidding?” At her snort, he brushed a damp curl off her cheek. “Honey, touchy-feely flicks are the bane of most men’s existence. With a couple exceptions.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as ones that feature girl-on-girl mud wrestling.” His lascivious eyebrow-wiggle dried up the last of her tears as she started to laugh. “Now those I could get behind.”

  “God. You’re such a pig.”

  “I won’t oink again, because that would just be repetitive.” He grinned and nudged down the spaghetti straps of her dress. “If the crying portion of our program is through, can we get down to you showing me exactly how much you love me?” She shivered as he lapped at her ear. “All night long?”

  “You’re forgetting one vital thing, Griffin.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” Her hands came up to cover his on her shoulders. “I still haven’t said I love you.”

  The punch of shock that stole his breath gave her enormous satisfaction. “But you do. I know you do.”

  Rachel picked up a handful of rose petals and let them flutter back to the bed. “I was afraid to tell you how I felt. To believe it could be enough. But --”

  At the knock on the door, her smile faded. As Shawn turned to answer it, she knew, just knew, she’d waited too long to say the words now wedged like blazing coals in her throat.

  The voices were too low for her to make out what was being said, but she didn’t miss Shawn’s pained exhalation a moment before he stepped into the hall and shut the door.

  She closed her eyes, remembering the night he’d knocked the phone off the hook. He hadn’t connected it since. Neither of them had turned on their cell phones since by mutual agreement. Once he’d gotten her to actually acknowledge how much talking to their families rattled her, she’d been as eager for the radio silence as Shawn. More so, because his reasons for wanting it were all about her.

  Everything was, always. He did whatever he could to make her happy. To ease her fears. And in this case, if her worst suspicions were correct, he’d cut off contact with his family when they needed him most.

  For her.

  When he returned, she was perched on the end of the bed, her fingers digging into her shoulders to keep herself still. Though she didn’t glance at his face, his choppy breathing scraped icicles up her spine.

  He walked to the desk, where the laptop he hadn’t turned on for days sat undisturbed among the candles. With a roar that had her releasing a cry, he swept the computer aside, driving it onto the floor with a sickening crunch.

  Rachel jumped to her feet and knelt beside him as he crouched, not to pick up the pieces, but to slam the shards into dust with his fists. A quick check of the candles showed that none of them had tipped, but if he kept up his assault on the computer, that wouldn’t be true for long.

  Her arms banded around him with every ounce of her strength, and she held on even when his body braced as if he was restraining himself from shaking her free. She pressed her wet eyes against his back, her heart breaking for him. “Tell me.”

  He didn’t seem to hear her. “It’s my fault. My fault.”

  “No. It’s not, sweetheart, I promise.” Finding reserves she hadn’t known she had, she bore down and tightened her grip. She sensed she needed to, for both of them. “Tell me, Shawn.”

  Warm liquid splashed their palms as he cupped them over his face. “My father,” he whispered.

  She sank onto the luxurious carpet, her butt hitting the floor hard enough to jar her bones had she still been aware of her body. But she could only think of the man she’d hung up on days earlier because he’d committed the cardinal sin of wanting her to marry his son.

  Because her chest suddenly felt too tight, she eased back, desperate to get some air in her lungs. How could he blame himself? She’d done this. If she hadn’t been so stupid and selfish, she wouldn’t have kept a man from his father.

  Maybe she hadn’t asked Shawn to sta
y away from his parents, but he’d felt as if he’d had no choice if he wanted a chance with her. True, she’d had her reasons but right now, those reasons didn’t seem very important. All they seemed was petty and childish. And the decision he’d made had cost him beyond estimation.

  God, how would he ever forgive her? How would she forgive herself?

  Candlelight shimmered over Shawn’s golden hair as he turned to stare at her, his lips parting almost as if he’d been sucker-punched. An answering sob rose in her throat as the candlelight glimmered on the damp streaks under his eyes.

  Rachel opened her arms, but he stretched out to lay his head in her lap instead. With her own tears tracking silently down her cheeks, she stroked his hair and listened to the sounds of his grief, remembering the night he’d held her as she cried herself to sleep in a hospital bed.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The funeral was scheduled for several days later. Rachel went home with Shawn without even stopping by her apartment to pick up fresh clothes, though she wondered why she’d bothered since he hardly seemed to notice her presence.

  Since they’d arrived in Calvin Bay, he’d stayed on the couch, pretending to watch TV. Pretending he was listening to her when she talked, pretending he was thinking about the answers he delivered to her questions as mechanically as a drone. He dutifully played his role when company arrived -- and there was a lot of company, because in a small town like theirs, many people knew Dillon and wanted to pay their respects -- but nothing touched his eyes. Not grief, not rage.

  Nothing.

  In desperation, she turned to him in bed the night before the funeral, frantic to rouse some emotion within him. Some sign of the man she loved. But even when he slipped inside her, she might as well have been back in the courtyard during the Zenith gala.