by Virna DePaul
She stared at him, her hesitation apparent. Then she nodded and twisted the clasp of her bra so that her small breasts spilled free.
***
Had she actually thought her breasts weren’t sensitive?
Even with her blurry eyesight, she could see him looking at them. Granted, she couldn’t tell whether his gaze was complimentary or not, but with his erection still pressed strong and sure against her belly, she’d place bets on it being complimentary. At least her breasts were convinced of that. They were swollen and achy—the type of achy that was indefinable, yet intolerable to ignore.
Instinctively, she raised her hands and cupped herself, smoothing her palms from her ribcage to the rise of her breasts, her breath catching as the light pressure caused her nipples to tighten even more. Closing her eyes, she moaned. She pinched her nipples. Moaned even harder.
“That feel good, baby?”
Her only warning was the puff of breath against her skin before a warm, moist suction covered one nipple. With both nipples still pinched between her fingers, he alternatively flicked one and then the other with his tongue, making sure to give particular attention to the sensitive skin between her thumb and forefinger. Unable to help herself, she grabbed his hair and pressed him closer to her. “Please,” she cried out brokenly.
“Please me?” he asked, a teasing lilt in his voice even as he replaced her fingers with his own, tweaking her nipples a tad bit harder than she had.
The corresponding tug in her sex had her arching off the bed. Shaking her head frantically, she said, “No, no. Please me. Suck me. Please.”
“And then?”
“Then?” she echoed, her brain freezing.
“And then are you going to let me suck you all over?”
Her breath caught. So he hadn’t lost sight of his original goal. As much as she was enjoying this, could she really handle him going down on her? She couldn’t even think about that right now without getting a little dizzy. “Yes. Now please…” She lifted herself up, offering her breasts to him.
With a growl, he took what she’d offered, taking one nipple into his mouth and drawing on it strongly. With a pop, he released it, only to move on to the next one.
No, definitely not insensitive.
Her breasts were super sensitive, in fact.
So, so sensitive.
She almost cried out in loss when he raised his head, but he grasped her hands and placed them on her breasts again. “Now, keep your hands to yourself,” he whispered.
She couldn’t help it. She giggled.
He seemed to freeze. Seconds ticked by and she shifted restlessly. “What?’
“I just— I just haven’t heard you giggle in awhile. I’ve missed it.”
She tried to think back. Hadn’t she giggled yesterday when they’d talked?
Who cared?
Who cared about anything but what he was going to do next. For a moment, she felt guilty at her thoughts. She’d never thought she’d have this wild, uncontrollable response to being touched by Max, and she was supposed to be concerned with his pleasure, not her own. But the more he touched her, the more he looked at her—
She jumped when his hands cupped her face and he leaned down toward her. “My pleasure, remember, Melina? You’re not going to think about whatever your thinking about because I already told you what you’re going to do, right?”
“But—”
He kissed her hard, with an edge of domination that made her tremble. “Right?” he pressed.
“Right.”
“And what are you going to do?’ As if to remind her, he moved his hands to cover her own, guiding them to start a slow erotic massage of her breasts.
“Touch myself.”
“And what are you going to let me do to you?”
“Touch me?” she whispered.
“Be more specific.”
“I—I—” Flushing in mortification, she shook her head. “Why don’t you just do it instead?”
She heard his smile more than she saw it. “Don’t you know that anticipation is half the pleasure? Do you know how long I’ve wanted to turn you on? I want to see it. Feel it. Hear it. So anticipate what I’m going to do to you, Melina. Tell me.”
Licking her lips, she gathered her courage. “You’re going to—to kiss me. Lick me.”
“Where? Here? ” His hand stroked down her sternum to her navel and rubbed soft, lazy circles on her belly. Soon, he scooted his body down and his lips as well, planting tiny, sucking kisses down her body that made her writhe. “Or here?” Hands, then mouth, continued their descent before pausing just above her liquid core. Lifting his head and locking gazes with her, he stiffened his tongue and probed at the tender flesh until he honed in on the small nub that had swelled for his touch. “Or here?”
Before she could even try to respond, he licked lower, sweeping his tongue through her drenched folds until she could barely hold back her moans of pleasure. Automatically, she raised one hand to cover her mouth. He lifted his head.
“Back on your breasts, Melina. I want to hear you scream, remember?”
She shook her head as reality suddenly crashed down on her. Desire could only sweep her away so far. She just wasn’t the screaming type. “I don’t scream,” she said in a matter of fact voice that seemed completely at odds with the riotous emotions inside her.
“Never?”
“Never.”
“Well, ladybug. Looks like we’re about to give ourselves the best present yet.”
A vague ripple of confusion tugged at her brain, but it disappeared when he lowered his head, burying his face against her. He showed no hesitancy at all, but rather dove into her like a man starving for sustenance. He kissed and suckled and scraped his teeth lightly against her. He pierced her with his stiff tongue, then lapped at her clit with a moist, tender devotion that made her arch to get away, then arch for more. Using just his mouth at first, then adding his fingers to the mix, he plucked her like an instrument, occasionally humming and whispering to her—words of longing and sex and worship— until the sensations grew and grew and she had no choice but to do as he wanted.
She screamed as a tidal wave of pleasure slammed into her, only to be amazed when he started all over again.
She screamed as the second orgasm brought tears of wonder to her eyes.
And she screamed as she struggled and strained and fought the pleasure he was determined to give her once more, crying that she couldn’t take any more, that he was going to kill her, that no one had ever made her feel this way.
But he gave her no quarter. He worked her body as if she was a deck of cards, something plain and boring and static until he got his hands on it and worked his magic. When he was done, when he gave her a moment to breathe and cradled her in his arms, kissing the tears from her face and stroking her hair, she closed her eyes.
Almost instantly, with her head resting against his chest and his strong heartbeat beating in time to her own, she slipped into the fantasy. She could feel the warm rain beating down on her. The drag of wood against her back an instant before he tucked her in his arms. But mostly she could feel him. Surrounding her. Loving her. And it felt so right to be loved by him.
Rhys, she thought, unaware as she fell into an exhausted sleep that she’d spoken the name out loud.
CHAPTER 5
Dalton’s Magic Rule #6: Seize Every Opportunity To Perform
“You are so hot. I want to do you over and over again.”
Melina smiled at Rhys’s raspy voice, but didn’t bother to respond since her mouth was busy doing other things and didn’t appear interested in giving up the warm flesh it was sucking on. Instead, she hummed her appreciation for the remark, smiling even more when he groaned.
“I can never get enough of you, Melina. Never, do you understand?” His fingers tangled in her hair and pulled. “Look at me.”
Just for kicks, she resisted and sucked him harder. She swirled her tongue around his broad, mushroom tip, then fl
attened it against the sensitive spot just below his slit. He hissed in a breath. Rhys fisted her hair more tightly and tugged, forcing her to release him even as she moaned in protest.
“You hog the covers, ladybug.”
Melina’s eyes snapped open and, for a moment, her dream and reality vied for supremacy.
Reality—her vision was just as it should be without her glasses and first thing in the morning, a little fuzzy but not enough to prevent her from seeing that there was a man lying next to her. A big, naked man.
Dream—the man was Rhys, his head propped on his bent arm. A joy she’d never experienced slammed into her, but then disappeared almost immediately when reality took the lead.
She hadn’t been going down on Rhys. He hadn’t wrapped her hair around his fists. And, thankfully, he certainly hadn’t called her a hog.
Little comfort there.
This was Max, she remembered. And as much as she loved and adored Max, he wasn’t Rhys and he never would be. She could never feel the same way about—
Her eyes widened in horror just as he reached out and ran a finger down the slope of her bare shoulder. The events of the night before rushed her like a linebacker in the final inning of a playoff game. Or was that hockey? Baseball? She didn’t know any more about sports than she did about magic. Still, she knew that last night hadn’t gone exactly as she’d planned.
Not her plan, anyway.
She sucked in a breath as Max’s hand slipped under the sheet to cover one of her bare breasts. Just as they had last night, her nipples came to immediate attention, tightening as if to reach out for his fingers. Teasingly, he grazed one, then the other, before he lightly began rubbing one in tiny, firm circles. When she gasped, he smiled. “You’re sensitive there. I noticed that last night.”
Dumbstruck, she just stared at him. She never would have thought it was true, but he apparently brought something out in her. Maybe one too many solo test runs had triggered some kind of latent chemical reaction in her? Why else would she have been so heated in her response last night? With Max, she reminded herself.
But present circumstances didn’t prove her theory. She’d slept through the night—after three screaming orgasms—and she was still raring to go. Apparently, so was he.
Her eyes widened as another thought struck her. He was raring to go because he hadn’t come. She hadn’t gotten him off. She jerked to a sitting position, barely clutching the sheet before it exposed her bare chest to the world. “Oh God. I knew it. Brian was right. I do suck in bed. And not—” she held up a hand to forestall his anticipated attempt at humor “—in a good way.”
Drawing up her knees, she buried her face in them and covered her head with her arms. She struggled to block out all stimuli and simply think. Even so, she felt him stiffen next to her. His words, when they came, didn’t sound humorous in the least. “The bastard told you that and you believed him? You still do? After last night?”
She jerked her face up to look at him. “Of course after last night,” she hissed, poking him in the chest with her finger. “You proved it.”
“Excuse me?” Grabbing hold of her finger, he leaned in toward her, nose to nose, until she could clearly see his fierce frown. Anger emanated from him in waves. “All we proved last night was you are capable of far more passion than you thought. I’ve got the claw marks and the ringing ears to prove it.”
Flushing, she jerked her finger away and buried her face in her knees again. Her next words came out muffled and garbled. “Also proofs incisor golden bat.”
“What?”
She lifted her head again and spoke past the hair that had tangled in her mouth. “All that proved is that you’re good in bed,” she clarified. “We already knew that. I, on the other hand, am I flop. I just didn’t accept it before.”
He shook his head and spat out, “Bullshit.” Despite the fury in his voice, his hand was gentle as he smoothed back the hair from her face. “Melina, what are you talking about? Last night was the best—”
“You didn’t get off,” she yelled. “We agreed that you were going to teach me about pleasing a man, and instead you drove me so wild that I—that I—” She shook her head.
“Finish.” His voice had turned quiet, almost icy. He also moved away from her, just a foot or two, but it was enough to make her feel the rejection. Great, now he was angry. But why shouldn’t he be? She’d barely touched him last night. Sure, he’d ordered her not to, but maybe that had been some kind of challenge. Some test to see if she was aggressive enough to give him what he really wanted?
“I—I was selfish. I completely forgot about what I should be doing for you, Max. But it was only because you were so—you were so much more—” So much more than she’d expected. Based on that kiss so long ago, she’d thought she’d be safe with Max. It had been nice, but it hadn’t overwhelmed her. It hadn’t affected her the way just thinking of Rhys did. It hadn’t made her tremble, but she was trembling now. When her face was buried in her knees and she consciously remembered who he was, she could control the ripples of desire that were swirling inside her. But as soon as she lifted her head and saw him—as soon as she breathed him in—the drumbeats of a passion so momentous began to clamber in her ears, urging her to reach out to him.
“What was I, Melina?”
Pressing her lips together, she plucked at the bedspread, refusing to look at him.
“You came into my bed. Apparently, you arranged all this for one of your idiotic experiments. So you will look at me, damn you.” Gripping her chin, he turned her face toward him, not unkindly, but not gently either. “What was I? Who am I?”
Apparently? Had she been unclear on what she was after? She frowned. “What?”
“Who. Am. I?”
“You—” She squinted but the picture didn’t change. He was Max. Honey-colored hair, slightly shorter than she remembered from two days before, but he could have gotten a haircut. Strong nose and jaw. Broad shoulders and chest, enticingly bare. Automatically, her gaze dropped lower and she saw his bare limbs splayed out from underneath the stark white sheet. She couldn’t see the light dusting of hair on them, but she’d felt it last night. When he’d laid on top of her, with her hands manacled in his wrists—
She sucked in a breath and held it. Along with a flash of her favorite fantasy, two memories from last night formed. The first, his seeming surprise when he’d come into the room and found her in his bed. She’d chalked it up to nerves, but had it been more? The second, he’d called her ladybug. Only Rhys called her ladybug. But Rhys wasn’t here. He didn’t even like her anymore. Plus, he wouldn’t have known to come to her. Unless—?
“Rhys?” she whispered. Already half-expecting his answer, she rose and pulled the sheet up with her. His expression flashed with confirmation.
“Melina—” he said warningly, grabbing for the sheet, but she moved quick and with desperation, winning the tug of war so she could back up toward the door. And do what? Run out naked into the hallway? Prove herself to be an even bigger idiot? She compensated by taking a side-step toward the open bathroom doorway.
He stood, unconcerned with his nudity. Her gaze dropped to his penis, which seemed slightly smaller and softer than it had last night.
“Come here, ladybug,” he said quietly.
She shook her head. “You’re Max. Tell me you’re Max.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, standing proud and tall. “I’m sorry. I can’t do that.”
With her one free hand, she covered her mouth to stifle her moan of horror. She felt her knees about to buckle and put a steadying hand on the wall. She’d needed to steady herself on the bed last night, she remembered. She’d thought it was because she wasn’t wearing her glasses, but it had more likely been because of the alcohol. The alcohol that had emboldened her to climb into the bed and masturbate while she fantasized about Rhys while actually thinking that she could go to bed with his brother. All in the interest of science, of course.
And what s
he’d done instead was throw herself at Rhys. Begged him to please her, she remembered with mortification. What had she said? Please me. Suck me.
“Melina—” he began again.
She shook her head. Now that she knew, it seemed so obvious. His hair was shorter. He spoke slower. He touched her differently. More hesitantly.
More and more hesitantly as time went on.
Except for last night.
A slicing pain tugged at her stomach and she automatically clutched at it. His surprise last night had been just that. He hadn’t been expecting her to throw herself at him. He’d gone along, probably to spare her feelings. It certainly wasn’t because he’d been overcome by desire; he hadn’t even tried to seek his own release. Maybe he’d already known he couldn’t achieve that kind of satisfaction with her. Maybe Max had warned him.
Now a hollow feeling of betrayal burned along with her embarrassment and heartache. “Whose room is this?”
“Mine.”
“Not Max’s?”
“Max is on a different floor.”
A different floor. So had the front desk made a mistake? Or had Max chickened out at the last minute and tricked Rhys into filling in for him?
That made the most sense.
Despite her brief suspicion that Max had told Rhys she was waiting for him, the evidence didn’t point to him purposefully deceiving her. When she’d said his brother’s name, he’d sounded displeased—with her, with his brother, with the entire situation.
“Why—what—what are you doing here?”
“I flew in to give you your birthday present. It’s right on the dresser. Didn’t you see it?” Holding out his hands as if she was rabid dog about to bite him, he nevertheless took two steps toward her, skirting around the bed much like she had the night before. She moved backwards, matching him step for step, suddenly feeling like a tiny rabbit being stalked by a very hungry wolf. “You gave me a present instead. Too bad it wasn’t meant for me, but—”
“But nothing,” she said. “You need to leave.”
He swept his hands down his tall, muscular form. “You’re going to make me walk out of here naked?”
