by Lynda Chance
He came back down on top of her and kneed her legs apart. They fell open for him even as a gasp slipped from her throat. The sound drove him half bat-shit crazy. He steadied himself by studying her, the light he saw shining from her eyes telling him that she wanted this too—almost as much as he did. And that was a damn good thing, because now was not the time to test his patience.
He sucked in a steadying breath through his nostrils, but found himself incapable of keeping his damn mouth closed. “I remember the way your skin tastes and I want that again. I need to taste every bit of you. It’s all I can fucking think about—I can’t get it out of my head.”
Her eyes flared in response, propelling him into action, his patience severely tested. As he kneed her legs farther apart and anchored her arms at her sides, a blush rose up from her chest and spread to her neck and then to her cheeks. Her response only maddened him. His gaze slid down and landed on the manicured perfection of her feminine mound. A great wave of heat grabbed him by the throat as his balls tightened in automatic response. His shaft swelled and jumped; his hands tightened around her wrists, restraining her, preventing any possible movement.
“Max—” she whispered on a semi-startled breath of air and then stopped speaking.
His eyes lifted to hers and found them shutting, closing him out. He hated that—and he’d deal with it later—but for now, he needed to taste the perfection of her body. He needed that if he had any hope of functioning with even a modicum of sanity in his life.
Sliding down, he dropped his head between her legs and wrapped his arms underneath her knees. Her scent hit him immediately; it was feminine and spicy, musky and heady, drenched with the redolence of sex—and it was more than he could stand.
His hands delved into her honeyed sweetness, his fingers pressing her folds apart. He could see all of her—everything she had—and he was going to lose it. Finding her dainty little clit and pressing his finger against it, he dropped his head and licked her, sliding his tongue from the bottom, all the way up.
She jerked off the bed as her fingers sank into his hair and grabbed hold. The grasp she had on him was strong, as if she were begging him to stay, or about to try to force him away. “Max—no.”
Fuck. He snapped his head up as his eyes narrowed. “No?”
She worked her bottom lip between her teeth as she stalled, before finally answering, “I want you up here—please.”
He calmed a bit at her words when he realized she didn’t want him to stop. “No—I can’t. Not yet. I’ll come too soon.” With that, he dropped his head again and began tasting her the way he needed … the way he hoped like hell she needed, too.
Within seconds, a primal urge that he couldn’t fight against rose up in his bloodstream. He tried not to hold on so tightly, tried to care if he was bruising her, but it was impossible. With his head buried against her sweet center, his hands came on either side and gripped her thighs, holding her apart—wide open. The position was perfect—he owned her, he owned her pussy—and if she didn’t learn to conform to his wishes soon, then he’d have to keep her like this until she did.
With his cock throbbing so hard it hurt, he knew that nothing could please him more, yet he needed to get closer still. He needed to swallow her whole.
With that thought, he lifted his head, reared back on his haunches and grasped her by the waist. He flipped her to her stomach in two seconds flat, and with a primitive beat in his bloodstream demanding more, he brought her to her knees, separating her legs until he heard her gasp. He couldn’t stop. He was incapable of stopping. He needed her taste. He needed her juices on his face. He needed to be so close to her that there was nothing left separating them.
****
Erin couldn’t catch her breath. Her pulse was spinning so far out of control that her chest almost hurt. Max’s hold on her was so intense it was … pagan. Low, savage noises were escaping his throat and when he flipped her unexpectedly to her stomach, blood surged to her clit, making her feel as if she would combust at any moment.
She was unable to control anything—she could only hold on for the wild ride. When he forced her knees apart with a strong thigh between her legs, she couldn’t suppress the gasp that came from her lungs. Butterflies went off in her stomach, ricocheting through her veins. He paused and fingered her, causing her to flood with wet heat. She knew he was looking at her—watching her—there.
He removed his finger and she almost screamed in frustration—but he wasn’t finished.
She expected him to go back for more, but he changed tactics on her. He flipped to his back and settled against the mattress before pulling her pelvis over him. He gripped her thighs with his fingers, holding her open to his mouth, his tongue—Jesus—his nose, as he breathed in her scent.
Unbelievable waves of heat rushed through her. She’d never imagined being in this position before—she was practically sitting on his face. He was pressed against her as if he couldn’t get enough of her—couldn’t taste enough of her. As if he needed to absorb her into his pores.
He lapped at her now, strong, slow licks of his tongue that were sending heat radiating from her nipples to her clit. As if he read her mind, his teeth found her clit and he bit, just enough, enough to make another cry escape her throat.
He made a snarling noise in response as his hands moved to grip her waist, and then up to her nipples where he played with them for a moment before moving back to sink into her waist again.
She tried to breathe, tried like hell not to come. She needed this to last; it was too good, too perfect to come too soon.
His touch, almost out of control as it moved all over her, was intoxicating. She could feel her orgasm building—she needed that feeling he could give her.
She tried to hold on, tried not to come, but his hands moved to grip her backside and she was almost lost. With his mouth on her clit, his fingers dug into the flesh of her buttocks as he pried her cheeks apart. An immediate, electric current lashed down her spine. He held her tightly by the butt, strong hands gripping her cheeks, holding them apart as his tongue sank deep inside her channel.
An erotic moan stalled in her throat as he took what he wanted, manipulating her until her thought process splintered. His tongue moved in and out, then back to her clit and then back again to her channel. And all the while, he held her cheeks apart—so far apart she could feel the cool air of the room on the most intimate place of her body.
A thrill of the unknown, of the forbidden, was shockingly tempting, causing her entire being to flood with desire.
As he continued to tongue her repeatedly, she felt a rush of devastating need as he moved a single finger to her vee again and sank it inside. He fingered her forcefully, perfectly, and then he released her there, moving his damp finger toward the forbidden place between her buttocks. He swirled a hot, hard, teasing finger around her opening, his touch sending a firestorm of heat drenching her insides.
The oxygen stalled in her lungs as his teeth clamped down hard on her clit as his finger slid into the taboo spot between her cheeks, sending her into sensory overload. An all-consuming, incendiary spiral of heat erupted through her body, radiating out in waves of intoxicating pleasure as she exploded into orgasm around him.
****
Erin was heaven and magic combined, the feminine scent of her driving Max wild. He loved everything about her, the fragrance of her skin, the tiny noises she made, the way her body was even now, releasing a wet, fantasy-like heat that was driving him closer and closer to losing control.
As he lapped and licked, he felt the change come over her as she dissolved around him in orgasm. He loved it when she melted around him—he wanted that like hell on earth, but above all else, he needed to feel her coming on his cock. Damn, he needed that now. He lifted her and flipped her to her back, and with a speed that caused a small mewling noise to escape from her lips, he moved up her body, gripping her wrists and planting them to the sides of her head. He plunged all the way inside with one
forceful, desperate thrust, gritting his teeth and trying with all his strength not to come on the first stroke.
Fucking. Heaven.
He stilled and fought for control, and then started over from scratch, intent on making her come again. He would make her come again; just the thought was tightening his balls. Naked skin against naked skin—he needed this—he’d never felt the need to be naked inside a woman before, but with Erin? Fuck, yeah, he deserved this—she was perfection personified as her wet, slick skin surrounded him. He began thrusting, quick forceful pumps that sent a dizzying wave of heat down his spine. The feel of her surrounding him without a condom—he couldn’t take it much longer. He continued to pump into her, and thank fuck, she began tightening around him. A keening wail rent the room as she came again, just like that, splintering all around him.
He let her ride her pleasure and then he began stroking into her again. Long, deep, hot strokes that thrust him in and out of her body, making him feel an intensity that he’d never felt before—and then he realized exactly why. He was consummating their marriage. By God, she was his now and nothing on the face of the earth would tear her away from him.
With that thought banging in his brain, he took one final stroke that pushed him impossibly higher inside, impossibly deeper as he touched his own personal nirvana.
As his orgasm slowly faded, he remained inside her, refusing to make himself move. He shifted slightly so she could breathe more easily, but he wasn’t about to make himself leave her yet. As his heart rate came down, he lifted his head so he could see her features.
Her eyes remained closed and he was almost annihilated when he saw a single tear slide down her flushed cheek. He knew she’d reached her own peak—twice—but had he hurt her? He was horrified to think he might have been too rough. She was so tight and he knew she’d been shocked at the risqué move he’d made. “What’s wrong?”
She went completely still for a moment, her eyes staying firmly closed. She took a ragged breath, shook her head in denial, but then swallowed hard before opening her eyes and blurting, “You won’t understand—you don’t care.” She paused and then, shutting her eyes again—shutting him out, she mumbled, “I wanted the fairytale.”
Tension hit him hard. She was upset and he’d fucked up. He wanted her happy, goddamnit. Anything less was unacceptable to him. And even though he knew she’d experienced the ultimate in happy endings, it wasn’t enough. She wanted something. Something that wasn’t sex. Something he hadn’t given her yet.
So now the answer was simple. He had to figure out what this ‘fairytale’ encompassed, so he could make it happen.
****
The color receded from Erin’s face as she heard her own words. Dear God, had she actually said that to him? Why? It went against everything she was working toward—it went against her plan to seduce him into loving her. How could she have screwed up this quickly? How could he ever love her if she showed such weakness? He was an incredibly strong, self-confident man. She’d never be able to hold his interest if she didn’t have the same attributes. Damn. She needed to get her shit together, she really did.
He probably thought she hadn’t noticed that he hadn’t bothered with protection. Oh, she’d noticed, all right, she’d felt it—the hot gush of his seed inside her. It had been an added form of intimacy that even now, was sending shooting waves of residual heat through her system. She’d felt him come, his wet heat exploding and drenching her womb. She’d felt what it would be like—if they were to try to make a baby together.
The thought made her swallow as she turned away from him, and after a moment, she felt him reach out and touch her cheek, as if he wanted her attention. As if he wanted to know what was inside her head. He couldn’t have that, there was no way she was giving him that, so she shut her eyes. His hand tightened, but she bit her lip, feeling an imperative need for self-preservation. After a moment, he dropped his hand from her face and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her spine into his chest and holding her hostage within his embrace.
She remained still as she felt the tension in him. She could almost feel his mind working, but after a while, his breathing evened out and eventually, his arm went slack. It was still a dead weight holding her pinned next to him, but at least he was relaxed now.
Minutes later, he was in a deep sleep and she knew, without a doubt, that she’d have little luck in finding her own rest.
****
When Max woke up early the next morning, Erin was missing from the bed. The indent in her pillow was there, but the place at his side was cool to the touch, as if she’d deserted the space long before.
A quick look outside on the balcony found it deserted as well, as was the en-suite they shared. Her purse on the vanity and her cell phone plugged into the wall eased him somewhat, but still, turbulence hit his bloodstream. Knowing she couldn’t have gone far, he took the quickest shower in recorded history.
Dressed in casual clothes, he searched the most obvious places where she might have retreated. The kitchen landed him no result, his cook and housekeeper denying all knowledge of Erin’s whereabouts. The atrium was empty, as was the room he’d given her for her own personal use. He checked his office, and then the secure room behind it—both empty. He didn’t understand the sudden, unaccustomed vulnerability that forced him to make a quick inspection that thankfully found her passport with his. He didn’t pause to contemplate the feeling of relief that rushed through him at the sight—he needed to find his wife. His wife, as of last night, in every sense of the word.
Pacing the entryway, trying to think, only caused him to worry more. The fact that her purse and cell phone were still upstairs meant she hadn’t attempted to go far—so where and why had she disappeared?
The house wasn’t giving him the answers he needed, so he slammed outside, intent on finding her location.
An hour later he’d enlisted the aid of five of his men and with still no sign of Erin, any residual anger he’d been feeling disappeared completely. Now all he felt was stone-cold fear, and deciding to retrace his steps more slowly, looking for something he might have missed, he went back into the house and began his search again.
He’d just put one foot on the stairway when his cell phone began ringing. Thinking the call might have something to do with his wife, he pulled the phone from his pocket and glanced at the screen.
Garrett Rule.
Fuck—not a good time. Max had no choice but to answer—even though he knew the bastard couldn’t possibly have gotten his hands on Erin, he answered the call anyway, just to be sure.
“Villarreal,” Max snapped into the phone, announcing himself.
“Villarreal,” Garrett Rule repeated in a tone meant to express his loathing. “I have one thing to say to you, motherfucker, so you best listen up. If you hurt my sister, I’m coming after you. Your pretty face will be history when I’m done with you and I’ll personally see to it that you lose everything. I promise you—you’ll have nothing left but the clothes on your back.”
The heated words hung on the air—and they pissed Max off. Hurt her? Was her brother fucking insane? He didn’t have it in him to hurt her—fuck—he was about to lose his mind because he couldn’t locate her.
About to open his mouth and blast the bastard for his stupidity, all he heard was a click as the other man disconnected the call.
****
Chapter Nine
Erin came back to consciousness at the sound of a far-off door slamming. Her eyes sprang open, but all she saw was darkness around her.
As she fought the grogginess that held her in its grip, another door opened, and a sliver of dim light flooded the area.
“What the fuck?”
She recognized Max’s voice, heard the snick of the light switch being activated and the little chandelier that hung from the ceiling suddenly cast a too vivid, too bright luminance on the small space of her dressing room. Groaning and covering her face with her hands, she otherwise lay still.
“What the hell are you doing in here?”
Having slept a total of, maybe, four hours the previous night, Erin’s rest had clearly come to an abrupt halt. Slowly, she lifted herself into a sitting position on the chaise lounge, and even more slowly, lowered her hands from her face to grip them at her sides. Not ready to deal with Max and not ready to face the day with so little sleep, she remained silent.
“I’ve been looking for you for almost two hours,” he condemned. “My men have been looking for you as well—when they have better things to be doing.” His words came to a clipped halt as if waiting for an answer.
The only problem—she didn’t have an appropriate answer. She could give him the truth, simple as it was, but she didn’t think he was going to like it.
“Erin,” he snapped. “I’m waiting.”
“I fell asleep,” she stalled.
A look came over his features as if he wanted to shake her. “I realize that—why in the closet? Why not in our bed?”
Swinging her feet to the floor, she stood and sidestepped him out of the closet and into the bathroom, as her heart beat loudly in her ears. She glanced in the mirror and almost had a heart attack. No sleep—it reflected on her face, giving her a haggard appearance. She made a grab for toothpaste and toothbrush, and as he looked on with a storm cloud brewing on his features, she quickly scrubbed her teeth, trying to ignore his un-ignorable presence. Clearly, she would have to get accustomed to a lack of privacy, whether she wanted to or not.
Finishing her record-breaking toilette with a cool washcloth to the face, she turned to face him, her hands clenching the edge of the vanity. He stood watching her, waiting for an answer.
“I couldn’t get to sleep, so I got out of bed for a different nightgown. I remember sitting on the chaise, but I don’t remember lying down or falling asleep.” Such a prevarication … but she wasn’t about to tell him the truth—that it was too personal and too painful to lay next to him when he felt nothing for her.
