Devoted to Pleasure

by Shayla Black

  “Do you want to stand there and gawk or do you want to make love to me?” She taunted him by trailing a fingertip down her cleavage, down her abdomen, down farther . . . almost to her puffy cunt.

  Cutter swiped a thumb and finger across his suddenly slick mouth. Damn, she could make a man drool. “Since both isn’t an option . . .”

  “It’s not. What’s your plan B?”

  The sultry beckoning in her tone made him even harder. Jesus, ten seconds in the same room with a naked Shealyn and none of his stress mattered. His exhaustion had dissipated. Now his heart pounded. His blood rushed. The sound crashed in his head, along with a chant that shouted he must take her, claim her . . .

  “To come over there and give you pleasure.”

  So much of it that she would never want him to leave. He would because he had to, because they belonged in different worlds where they both had obligations. But he intended to at least leave her with a satisfied smile and a full heart.

  Her smile turned more mysterious, more tempting. “I like that plan. But you’re overdressed.”

  She was right. He needed to be naked with her. Clothes chafed his skin. He wanted them gone.

  Toeing off his shoes, he tore his shirt over his head with an impatient fist. On hands and knees, she crawled across the bed, her very gaze a seduction as she sat her pretty ass back on her heels and reached for his zipper.

  Cutter grabbed her wrists. “I really am sorry.”

  Shealyn blinked up at him. “If I didn’t believe you, I wouldn’t be trying to get you naked and inside me. I’ve gone most of my life never really trusting anyone, but I know I’ll never be happy isolating myself. I’m choosing to trust you.”

  “I won’t let you down.” Cutter said the vow that came automatically from his heart.

  Then his brain kicked in. What about Brea and his commitment to marry her? Sure, he didn’t love her as anything more than a sister, and their relationship would never be romantic. In fact, she would release him from their engagement if he said he wanted out. But . . . could he explain all that to Shealyn? Would she understand?

  Hell, it didn’t matter. As much as he wanted to share everything with her, by the time he married Brea, Shealyn would be nothing but a treasured memory. They had so little time left together, and he didn’t want to waste a second of it by bringing another woman into bed with them.

  “You froze up. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” Cutter soothed her with the white lie for now and cupped her face. He refused to ruin this moment. Otherwise, her trust might never come again.

  “You’re sure?”

  “You’re just so . . . perfect to me. Of course you’re beautiful, but a pretty face means nothing with an ugly heart. Yours has been bruised. We probably shouldn’t be together. If people knew about us, they’d say I’m not good enough or important enough for you.”

  “I don’t care what anyone says. I know what’s in my heart.” She put her arms around him and delved into his stare with eyes so raw and earnest, his heart caught. “Don’t go. Ever. Please.”

  Was she saying she wanted forever with him? “Sweetheart, I don’t want to but—”

  “Then don’t. I know it won’t be easy. But nothing except what we feel for each other should matter.”

  Cutter thought long and hard about her words. She was right. What was more important than love? In theory, nothing.

  Unfortunately, his situation wasn’t that simple.

  Never in his life had he made the choice to put his own wishes first. He’d joined the service to learn skills and erase his mother’s financial burden for sending him to college. Once he’d been discharged, he’d found a good-paying job near home so he’d be there if she needed him. He’d watched over Brea from cradle to her own pregnancy. He’d offered her his name, surrendering his own chance at love so he could protect her. Cage was right; the ghost of Rod Bryant had been driving him to be better—be a hero—all his life.

  Now he just wanted to be happy with the woman he loved. Was that really so wrong?

  Cage, Mama, and even Brea would applaud him for following his heart. But guilt sat heavy. To stay with Shealyn, he’d have to break his commitment to the sister he’d pledged himself to. And he had to do that before he committed to Shealyn. He owed Brea that much, along with his promise to help her find another solution to keep face and her baby. He wouldn’t abandon her. After he’d officially broken their engagement though, God . . . he wanted to get down on one knee and propose to his beautiful starlet and make her his for the rest of their lives.

  “I love you and I want to stay with you,” he vowed. “I’ve got challenges at home I need to work through. But I can’t imagine saying good-bye after this weekend. Hell, I don’t ever want to leave you.”

  Her eyes welled with tears. She twisted gently from his grip and laid her palms on his chest, one over his beating heart. “I know this won’t be easy. Tower will be distraught. The network may be pissed off enough to fire me. I know the news that I’m with you will upset some fans of the show. But none of that matters to me more than you.”

  The gladness that poured through him almost took his knees out. “Tomorrow, I’ll call home and start clearing a path for us. I didn’t bother you with my complications because . . . well, at first I worked for you and you didn’t need my personal problems. But later, I simply didn’t see the purpose. You’ve had enough going on without me throwing the cesspool of my shit from back home into the mix. But now . . . I’m going to do whatever it takes so we can be together.”

  Shealyn didn’t hesitate. A tremulous smile spread across her face and she nodded. “Since I left Comfort, I’ve felt off-kilter, out of my element, like maybe I was going down the wrong path. But then you walked into my life. Even though the blackmail and murder terrify me, suddenly everything else makes sense again. I’m comfortable. I’m happy. No matter where I am with you, it’s like I’m home.”

  His heart turned over. “I love that. I want to give you that feeling every day.” Forever.

  After a tumultuous early childhood, she valued stability and belonging. If being with him gave her that feeling, then he felt like a freaking superhero.

  “Where do we go? What do we do next?”

  “I can do my job anywhere. You can’t. I don’t like L.A. much—too many crowds, cars, and smoggy skies—but I can live wherever you are, sweetheart. I want to make you my home.”

  Tomorrow, he’d call Brea, Cage, and Mama, along with his bosses at EM Security Management and work out the future. He didn’t know what exactly it would look like yet, but he intended to share it with Shealyn. He just had one other question . . .

  “If we’re really going to be together, we shouldn’t wait too long to go public. We don’t want the truth to leak out and have no way to control the story. And I don’t want you faking an engagement to Tower for the sake of the show, especially not when he’s hoping for something real between you.”

  “You’re right. He and I need to ‘break up’ officially.” She sighed. “I’ve been thinking about the fact that Hot Southern Nights is either going to survive on its own merits or it’s not. If fans were more interested in our real-life ‘romance’ than the one the show depicts, the popularity wasn’t going to last anyway. Tower will be okay . . . eventually. But he’s never going to be whole until he finds someone he doesn’t want to use as a crutch, someone he can actually give his heart to. Maybe with Norah forever out of reach and me no longer distracting him, he’ll truly give someone a chance. Tom will be madder than a hornet’s nest, but he’ll get over it.” She shrugged. “And if he doesn’t or the show fails, maybe . . . maybe we move somewhere we can both be comfortable. Somewhere that feels a bit more like our roots.”

  He froze, stared. “You’d give up stardom and move down south to be with me?”

  “Yeah. I came here to act. I never meant to cha
se fame, but I think I was hoping it would make me feel . . . I don’t know. Whole. No, loved. That’s what I wanted. But I realize now that public adoration is fickle and hollow. It’s nothing like I imagined. But you . . .” She sighed. “You’re real. You’re everything I need.”

  Her words both gutted and humbled him. Love had been the last thing on his radar when he’d taken this job. Not for one moment had he imagined that a beauty like Shealyn West would look twice at him, much less give him her bruised heart. No way would he ever let her go. He intended to grab her with both hands and hang on for the rest of their lives—no matter what he had to do.

  “I need you, too.” He wrapped a hand around her elbow and helped her to her feet. “Come with me.”

  As he nudged her toward the double French doors that led to the balcony facing the crashing waves of the ocean, he shucked his pants and swiped a condom from the pocket.

  Shealyn reached for the doorknob and sent a cautious glance over her shoulder. “You’re naked. And we’re going outside? What if someone sees us?”

  “They won’t. It’s too dark. There’s no one around. The neighbor to the south doesn’t have a view up here. It’s the middle of the night. It’s just you, me, the ocean, and our love. Trust me?”

  She relaxed and opened the door to the windswept balcony with a smile. “Always.”

  The wind was chillier than he’d imagined. He’d noticed that, unlike the humid south, temperatures could drop out west and a warm day could suddenly become downright cool when night fell.

  Shealyn shivered, so he dashed back into the bedroom and found a throw hanging over the back of a plum-hued chair in a corner. Unfolding it, he wrapped the soft chenille around his bare back, then eased behind her to press his body against her naked skin. The contact made him groan.

  “Hold on to the railing,” he murmured, his voice husky and barely audible over the breeze.

  He heard her let loose a little gasp before she gripped the wooden support. “What are you going to do?”

  “Nothing except make you feel good. Make you feel as if, tonight, only we matter.”

  “Please . . .” She gave a desperate groan.

  Shelving the condom on a nearby patio table for now, he held up the fringed edges of the blanket. “Hold this by the corners.”

  She did as he asked.

  Behind her, he smiled. “Now my hands are free to do whatever I want to your luscious body, and you, sweetheart, have to keep the blanket around us to protect us from the wind, the cold, and the ocean spray. You can’t stop me from touching you and taking you in any way I want.”

  As she draped the blanket around her, enveloping them in shared bodily warmth, Cutter felt her shiver against his hot skin. Her breathing picked up. She liked this game.

  “You can’t,” she said over her shoulder. The breeze carried her voice as it whipped her hair around them.

  To show her otherwise, he palmed her torso, then slid his hands up until he cupped her bare breasts. “I can. I’m doing it now.” He pressed his lips to her shoulder, up her neck, breathing onto the shell of her ear. “I’ll keep doing it until you scream for me.”

  She shuddered. Her head rolled back onto his shoulder. As he flicked her hard nipples with his thumbs, she rocked back, her lush ass teasing his cock. He’d last made love to her less than twenty-fours ago. Suddenly, it felt like an eternity. He needed to feel her everywhere, join with her in every way he could, please her with every touch he could bestow.

  “Cutter . . .”

  “You can’t rush me, so don’t be impatient. We’re going to take this slow, make it right. Make it last.”

  He punctuated his statement by giving her nipples a stinging squeeze and exhaling on the back of her neck. Her little whimper told him that he aroused her. That she wanted more.

  “But I want to touch you.”

  “And I’m going to let you—later. Right now, sweetheart, we both need to forget about everything except us. We need to make this memory together so we’re strong enough to work out anything that might keep us apart.”

  “Then touch me,” she breathed as she opened the blanket to the elements and his hands.

  Cutter wasn’t going to refuse that request—ever.

  “Spread your legs. Yes. Wider. A little more. Good . . .” he crooned when she complied, then he rewarded her by trailing a pair of fingers down her abdomen, gliding them over her fleshy mound, and settling them directly over her clit.

  She was already gratifyingly swollen and slick. And when she melted against him even more, Cutter felt fire sear his veins. He plied her sensitive button in a rhythmic torture that had her smashing the fringe of the blanket between her fingers while she gripped the railing as if it alone would keep her from disintegrating into a puddle at his feet.

  “Your touch . . . The pleasure, it burns.” Her voice implored him.

  Relief would be a long time coming.

  “Does it make you ache and need?” he teased in a low voice before he nipped at her lobe, then kissed the back of her neck.

  “Oh, mercy. Yes. You undo me . . .”

  A smile curled up the edges of his mouth. “Want me to stop?”

  “Don’t you dare!”

  He laughed, but he never stopped swirling his fingers over her flesh in sultry torment. When her fingernails bit into the wooden railing and her whimpers became full-fledged moans, it unhinged his restraint. All hint of teasing went out the window. Cutter picked up the pace enough to ramp up her desire . . . but not enough to give her release.

  Under his hands, she writhed, panted—came alive. Watching Shealyn do anything was always a sensual experience, but seeing her twist in demand for the relief he could give her, hearing her plead for more of his touch . . . Yes, everything about this moment ignited him. Sex was always good. But this was different. Deeper. Every time with Shealyn slayed him, deepened what he felt, wrung out his heart.

  It remade him for her.

  “Oh, goodness.” Her hips moved him with the rhythm of his fingers, seeking, silently begging. “Oh, my . . . Cutter.”

  “Close, sweetheart?”

  “On the edge.”

  She was. He could feel it. “You know that now, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” she gasped. “You showed me. Do it again. Please . . .”

  He slid his free hand down lower, biting into her thigh. The other turned up the heat, speeding up his strokes, pressing just a bit harder. “You’ll scream for me.”

  “Yes,” she vowed on a gasp. “I will. About my need, my pleasure. Whatever you want to hear.”

  He craved all that. But there was one thing he wanted to hear her shout about even more.

  “Your love.” He paused, ignoring her frustrated whine until he was sheathed, lined up at her entrance, and pressing through her swollen flesh, deep into the only woman he knew he’d ever need this way. “Scream about that for me.”

  As he submerged himself in her sweet, clinging body all the way to the hilt, he braced himself with one hand at her hip. The other continued the tormenting strum on her clit.

  Already, her moans were turning louder, and every exhalation became a throaty demand for more. Desire swirled in his head like a dizzying storm. God, every time he touched this woman it was as if he couldn’t absorb her enough. He couldn’t get deep enough. He couldn’t get close enough. He couldn’t make her his enough to satisfy the clawing, gaping need in his chest to own her body and soul and never let go. Right now, all he could do was give her his pleasure, surrender his heart, and hope like hell it would be enough to weather whatever storm came next.

  Suddenly, Shealyn lowered one hand to his, now gripping her thigh. She squeezed his fingers while clinging to the blanket as she arched and twisted her face to his, lifting her mouth to press against his own. The moment his lips covered hers, their connection felt more complete, m
ore unshakable. He withdrew only long enough to slam his way back inside her and try to make more of her his—and his alone. Shuddering need clawed its way up his spine as she clenched down on him, roared for him, gave herself over to him completely.

  Cutter lost his self-control and his fight to hang on to the sharp edge of ecstasy a little longer. But what a sweet defeat, filled with euphoria, relief, then finally a languid perfection singing through his veins.

  When the tremors stopped shaking her body, he touched her cheek and guided her lips back to his for a reverent kiss that sealed their love.

  Suddenly, her body heaved as she sobbed in big, bucking cries.

  He withdrew from her body, then spun her to face him. Shealyn didn’t want to look at him. She tucked her chin down and buried her face in his neck, clutching him tight.

  “Sweetheart, what is it?”

  “I’m not sad, just emotional. You do something to me. I can’t explain it. And . . . I don’t know, maybe I’m tired or overly stressed or . . . But what we just shared took it all away, and I needed that so much.”

  She’d taken not only pleasure but comfort from him, and she didn’t know how to comprehend everything she felt. Standing here with her, still reeling with the bliss, he understood.

  He gave her a reassuring smile and thumbed her tears away. “I’m bowled over, too. But I’m here for you. I’m always going to do my best to give you what you need. I’ll always be ready to hold you when you need me.”

  Finally, she raised her tear-streaked face and blinked at him, her skin glowing in the silvery moonlight. God, she looked beautiful beyond words. The naked love in her eyes hit him like a battering ram to the chest.

  “I think I’ve been looking for you all my life,” she murmured.

  Her words undid him.

  He brought her closer to his chest and brushed kisses all over her face as he eased down to a patio chair and lowered her into his lap. When she curled up against him like a kitten, contentment warmed every corner of his body. “I’m so happy you found me.”