by Lynn Cooper
With him still staring up at me from between my legs, I need to make that decision pretty quickly.
I open my mouth to tell him I want to go home when he says, “You have a gorgeous cunt.”
His dirty talk takes my breath and ignites my blood. I bite my lower lip, and he smiles wickedly while slowly tracing a long, blunt finger along the seam of my sex.
I close my eyes and let my head fall back. His touch is like a torch, setting little fires along all the nerve endings in my nether region. I still can’t get the words to come out, but I want this man.
As if reading my thoughts, he groans. “God, you’re so silky soft and so damn wet. Sinking my dick inside you is going to be heaven on earth.”
My hips buck, and he pushes the finger he’d been teasing my outer lips with deep inside me.
“Winter, I want to fuck you so damn long and hard you forget about Giovanni and any other stupid prick who didn’t appreciate your perfection.”
His words are coarse and filthy, and they thrill me to my core. As I lose myself in his raw passion and heat, I whisper, “I want that, too, Torin. I want it more than you’ll ever know.”
I can’t worry about what’s going to happen when this weekend is over. I just need to be in the present, savoring this moment. If I can’t be honest with him, I should at least be honest with myself. Lying on top of this man’s desk and being completely at his mercy is the only place I want to be.
With a fresh wave of determination and courage, I look into his eyes and take what he’s giving me. His touch is almost reverent as he spreads the slickness of my desire along the flowering folds of my hypersensitive flesh until he reaches my aching clitoris. With the pad of his thumb, he circles the tiny nub, teasing and tormenting as he dips his head again and nuzzles his way to the bundle of nerves at my center.
When his tongue replaces his fingers, a hot, searing jolt of electricity shoots through me, making my body hum with pleasure before he settles his mouth over my clit and sucks it between his warm, firm lips.
The overwhelming sensation is almost too much. I cry out, “Oh, God, Torin. What are you doing to me?”
“Taming you. Taking you. Making you mine,” he says with his lips pressed against my womanhood and his voice ragged and rough from desire.
His words wash over me with a palpable possession that leaves me speechless. When the teasing scrape of his teeth causes my back to arch clear off his desk, I know the time for talking is over.
With his big hands gripping my ass cheeks, his tongue continues to confidently lap and swirl while he pumps two fingers deep inside me. Never have I trembled all over with a need so intense. I’m powerless to do anything but give in. With my hips bucking violently against his relentless mouth, an epic orgasm shakes me like a ragdoll, leaving me limp.
Before I can form a coherent thought, Torin is on his feet. With his fingers sensuously digging into my hips, he hauls me toward him until my bottom is touching the very edge of his desk. I gasp when I hear him unzip his pants, then instantly feel the head of his cock pressing against my entrance. I try to sit up, but his steely grasps pins me down.
Just as I’m about to open my mouth in protest, he slams into me with a forcefulness so shocking, I feel as though the earth has tilted on its axis. He’s like a locomotive who has built up too much steam to be stopped. His thrusts are wild, hard and incredibly deep. With each rapid plunge, I slide a little bit farther up the desk. Feeling afraid I might fall off the other side, I flail my arms wide trying to grab something to hold onto. But there’s nothing there, not even a pen holder.
Forever the mind reader, he says in a voice so husky and deep it cascades over me like a river over rocks, “I’ve got you, sugar. I’ll never let you fall.”
Too late. I’m falling head-over-heels for you this very minute, Mr. Stoke, I think, hoping like hell he can’t read my mind right now.
Chapter Twelve
Torin Stoke
I HAVE NEVER COME so hard in my life. My hands are shaking to the point I can barely zip my pants back up. Winter’s tight, hot little pussy has milked me dry, sapping my strength along with my resolve to keep this thing between us strictly physical.
Looking down at her sweet face, I can’t help but get lost in those soft, moss-green eyes. “Oh, Winter.” I whisper her name like a fucking prayer as my still trembling hands glide down either side of her neck and over her shoulders. “You’re so damn pretty, you make my chest hurt.”
She props up on her elbows and teasingly says, “Maybe you’re having a heart attack.”
“If any woman could give me one, it’d be you.”
She frowns, and I immediately regret making even the slightest reference to any woman but her. I desperately want to kiss a smile back onto her face, so I do. Burying my hand in the hair at the nape of her neck, I press my lips to hers, demanding entry. On a soft moan, she opens to the first touch and taste of my tongue. Sighing into my mouth, she grants me the access I need to stroke, pillage and explore.
I’ve kissed a lot of women but never like this. Not with the degree of intensity and intimacy I’m giving Winter.
Unbelievably, my cock surges against her. I feel drugged by her kisses. Through this crazy haze of never-ending passion, I pull back just far enough to speak. “I want you, Miss Primrose.”
She giggles. “You just had me.”
“It wasn’t enough,” I say, nibbling her lower lip, then resting my forehead on hers. “You make me want to do things I’ve never done before.”
“Like what?” she asks breathlessly.
“Like fall in love.”
Her eyes widen, and for a brief second shock registers on her face. Then it’s gone, and she’s back to delving out those smartass quips. “It’s just the post-coitus endorphins talking, Torin. You’ll be back to your bachelor mindset before your balls get full again.”
I knew it was way too soon to be spouting words of affection. But in the spirit of being totally honest, I wanted to tell her what I was feeling. And damn it, I feel like I’m falling in love for the first time in my life. I don’t give a shit if it’s insta-love or love at first sight. Labels don’t matter. The heart wants what the heart wants, and mine wants Winter Primrose.
Instead of sharing those thoughts with her, I shrug and say, “Maybe, but I don’t think so. From the first moment I saw you sitting up there on that auction block, I knew I had to have you. I’ve never reacted that crazy before,” I chuckle, running a hand through my hair. “You said it yourself. I was acting like some sort of Neanderthal, throwing you over my shoulder and taking you back to my cave.”
“It’s a really nice cave, too,” she says, sitting up and folding her arms across her bare breasts. Ones I still haven’t gotten around to laving, licking and sucking. I got too caught up in the sweet taste of her cunt and needing to fuck her. I thought I’d have more time later to give them the attention they most definitely deserve. But Winter’s body language is telling me she is closing herself off again. I’m afraid I’m going to lose her before I can officially make her mine.
I can see she needs a less intimate and safer topic of conversation, so I oblige her. “Yeah, it is nice. I had a ton of fun building it, but it’s much too big for one person.”
“Then why did you build on such a grand scale?” she asks, motioning for me to pick up the bathing suit from off the floor and hand it to her.
I can do her one better than that, so I take off my shirt and wrap it around her shoulders before saying, “Because I could. Because my mom and brother would have loved it.”
She pushes her arms through the sleeves and buttons my shirt as she asks, “Would have?”
“Yes, if they were still alive.”
She looks so damn adorable in my shirt. It swallows her whole, making me want to pick her up and cradle her in my arms like a child.
She also looks as if she’s on the brink of tears. Sympathy shines like glass in her gorgeous green eyes. “I’m so sorry for your l
oss, Torin. You can’t be much older than me, so they must have died pretty young.”
I nod. “My mom was my age—thirty—and my twin brother was only ten years old.”
“You’re a twin? I can’t imagine how awful it was to literally lose half of yourself,” she says, sighing sadly. “If you don’t mind my asking, what happened to him? What happened to your mother?”
“Leukemia took both of them. My brother died first, so no one suspected heredity as a cause. But when my mother died two years later of the same disease, the doctors figured it out.”
“So, that means you have a greater chance of getting it, too.”
“Had. I’ve already been there, done that and got my very own chemo T-shirt.”
“Oh, Torin,” she whispers, reaching out and wrapping her arms around my now naked torso. I pull her close to my heart, relishing the feel of her body pressed against mine. The feel of her breasts crushed against my chest is both intoxicating and comforting.
She loosens her hold and looks up at me. “You attended the charity auction and bid on me because of what happened to you, your mother and brother.”
I cup her cheek, gently caressing her angelic face. “Getting a new oncology wing built for the children is really important to me. I want them to have a fighting chance. A place where they can get the best treatments possible. That’s why I donated the money, but it’s not the reason I bid on you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Don’t you?”
“No, I see the giving and bidding as being all in the same vein.”
“Then you missed the point of my grand financial gesture, Miss Primrose. I could have bid on any woman up there, or I could have simply written a check without bidding at all. I bought you because I had to have you,” I say, trying to gage her reaction to my painfully honest declaration. When she gazes at me in disbelief, I decide to press my luck even more. “In all my life, I have never wanted a woman as much as I want you.”
She nervously licks her lips. “Well you got me. At least for the next forty-eight hours,” she says, sliding off the edge of my desk and making her way to the locked door of my office.
Chapter Thirteen
Winter Primrose
I STAND WITH MY sweaty palm resting on the knob. The urge to jerk the door open and run like the wind is overwhelming. I have to force myself to stay still.
All of this is happening way too fast. Just minutes ago, I was overcome with the feeling of falling for this sexy, kind and generous man. I had no idea he was having the same feelings toward me. But now that he has given voice to them, I am scared to death. If I didn’t have so many emotional hang ups, maybe I could tell Torin I’m out of my mind crazy about him, too. The problem is I have major trust issues. His intuition was right on the mark.
From the moment we got into the Hummer limo, he’s been reading me like a book. He somehow intuitively knew what sort of sex fantasies I have. Then he recognized how hard it is for me to tell the truth, when honesty is what I want most from him. Now, he’s saying exactly what I thought I’d never hear from the lips of any decent man. In all my life, I have never wanted a woman as much as I want you.
Taking a deep breath, I slowly turn around and face him. With my pulse pounding loudly in my ears and the heat of crimson blushing over my face, I say in a voice so low I’m not sure he will hear it, “I lied to you in the limo. I do have a rape fantasy.”
He sucks in a sharp breath, slowly stalks toward me and says, “Tell me the scenario you think about.”
I swallow hard, suddenly wishing I hadn’t opened this can of worms. “A really sexy, hot intruder breaks into my house in the dead of night and takes me against my will.”
I can see his jaw muscles working furiously before his deep voice takes on that sexy-as-hell, gravelly sound I’ve come to recognize as intense passion and need. “What if he breaks into my house instead?”
Holy shit! Is this man saying what I think he is?
“You mean he—”
“He would rape you here.”
Excitement at the prospect of Mr. Stoke playing the part of the intruder and fulfilling my filthiest fantasy turns my knees to jelly.
My voice quivers with anticipation. “How will he know which room I’m in?”
He gives me a predatory smile, and I know he is already getting into character inside his head. “The intruder’s been following you for a while now. He parks across the street from this house every night waiting for you to turn on your bedside lamp. In the faint yellowish glow from your window, he watches you undress,” Torin says, placing a hand around my throat and pushing me back against his office door.
I close my eyes and asks, “What does the intruder do once I’m naked?”
Torin leans down, placing his lips on the outer shell of my ear and whispers, “He pulls his engorged cock from his pants and beats off to your beauty.” He groans against my hair. “But tonight it won’t be enough. Tonight he’s going to take what he really wants.”
I sigh, letting the naughty images flood my mind.
With his body pressed flush against mine, Torin breathes in my exhalation before his lips latch onto the side of my throat. Licking, kissing, sucking, biting, he causes a torrid of sensation while painting the blank, ivory canvas of my skin with the sensual shades of his tongue. He’s marking me, making me his.
My body wiggles and writhes between the solid rock of his chest and the hard oak of the door against my back. His mouth relentlessly nibbles the sensitive flesh of my neck, pulling moans of pleasure from my very core. Then he releases me and steps back. The cool air flowing through the room peppers my tingling skin with goosebumps.
Taking my hand, he says, “It’s almost midnight. I should show you to your room.”
I nod, trying to bring my thoughts back into focus and away from the fantasy that holds me captive in its grip. “Would you mind if I sleep in your shirt? I’m afraid I left my luggage back at the theatre.”
“I don’t mind at all. In fact, I prefer it,” he says, smiling slyly. “However, I’m sure you already have everything you need in your overnight bag.”
I furrow my brow. “What do you mean? I just told you I forgot it. You know, it kind of slipped my mind when some crazy caveman hauled me off the stage over his shoulder.”
He chuckles. “I sent James backstage to fetch it while I was, uh, fetching you.”
“You mean I’ve had a change of clothes here this whole time, and you purposely left me in that bathing suit?”
“Yep.”
“I really ought slap you again for pulling such a stunt.”
“You’d slap a man for finding you so gorgeous and breathtaking in a fiery-red swimsuit he couldn’t bear the thoughts of you covering yourself?”
“When you put it that way, I guess not.”
“So we’re good?”
“We’re good. Let’s get some sleep.”
“Follow me.”
Chapter Fourteen
Torin Stoke
STOKE ESTATE IS MASSIVE. The main house has five guestrooms in addition to the master suite. Before Winter opened up, confessing her most secret sexual fantasy to me, I was hoping she and I could sleep together in my room. After what we shared on the desk in my office, I never want her to be too far from my side. But if I’m to play the part of intruder, the two of us sharing a bed is no longer an option.
I lead her out of my office, down a hallway and up a set of winding spiral staircases to the second floor. All along the way she oohs-and-aahs over the décor. I practically have to drag her past the expensive oil paintings adorning the walls. It’s really late, and I’m anxious to fulfill her fantasy, but she’s not making it easy. She keeps stopping to gape at the three-tiered crystal chandelier hanging from the cathedral ceiling; to comment on the hardwood floors polished to a gleam; to stare at the fancy wallpaper and run her pretty fingers across the walnut-finished chair railing.
I’m not in the mood to show her every feature o
f the house like I’m a real estate agent and she’s a potential buyer. That’s a different fantasy for a different time, I think, smiling to myself. I could come up with a hundred exciting scenarios we could act out together. But at the moment, there is one pressing particularly hard on my mind and other private places.
We finally reach the master suite. Stopping in front of the open door, I say, “Here we are.”
We step inside. I flip on the light. She gasps. “This is the most beautiful bedroom I have ever seen. Everything is ivory.”
I smile proudly. “Just like your skin.”
She sighs. “How can something be so elegant yet understated? The walls look as if they’ve been painted with vanilla ice cream. The poster bed, the fluffy comforter, the curtains, the plush carpet and bookcases, even the flat screen television, all of them are the same soothing shade.” Her eyes shimmer like a kid in a candy store as she gushes more compliments. “The atmosphere is feathery light, cool and airy while still being cozy and comforting,” she says, spinning around in a circle as if she can somehow absorb her surroundings straight into her skin.
When she finally stops, she gazes into my eyes. “Oh, Torin, this has to be the dreamiest bedroom in the whole world. There’s no way this is a guestroom.”
My chest swells. “It’s not. This is my room, and I’m so glad you like it.”
She shakes her head. “Un-uh. I love it! I could stay right here between these gorgeous walls forever.”
I want her to do just that, but I don’t dare speak my desire aloud. Instead I say, “Well, it’s yours for the weekend. I’ll be right across the hallway. If you need anything, holler.”
“I can’t imagine needing more than this.”
I snap my fingers. “Oh, yeah, before I forget, the master bathroom is right through that door,” I say, pointing toward the far wall. “In case you’d like to shower or something.”
“That sounds great,” she says, smiling sweetly. “I guess this is goodnight then.”
