He sunk his teeth into her bottom lip, punishing her for accepting him like this. For not fighting, for wanting it when, if she’d had any sense at all, she should be pushing him away and running from him.
She only shuddered, a low moan coming from her throat. Then she angled her head and bit him back. And he didn’t know quite what happened, but something inside him snapped as the sweet, sharp pain of her teeth shot straight to his already hard cock.
He didn’t pull away, accepting her nip as he gripped her jaw tightly, exploring deep into her mouth. Sliding his tongue along hers, pouring all his hunger and his anger into her, ravaging her, devouring her.
Years since he’d kissed anyone, years since he’d even wanted to. But this … She tasted so hot, with flavors of mint and coffee, and something sweet that was all Violet. It made him furious because he liked it. Because he wanted more. Because she was drinking him down as if she was desperately thirsty, accepting all his anger, embracing it.
She shouldn’t. She really shouldn’t.
He jerked his head away from her, looking down into her face. Her eyes were glittering, her pupils dilated. Christ they were the most beautiful color. “You know why I’m doing this, don’t you?” he said, not caring how harsh his voice sounded. “It’s not because I want you. It’s because you’re that motherfucker’s daughter and since he’s dead, taking it out on you is the next best thing.”
He’d said it to hurt her, but it wasn’t hurt that crossed her face, but defiance. “Right, so you’re taking it out on me with sex. Like I’m going to complain about that.”
His grip on her jaw tightened, and he felt her tremble. “You want me to hurt you? Is that what you want?”
“You won’t hurt me.” She was so calm, staring at him as if she could see behind his anger. As if she could see all the dark space inside him. The dark space where everything that made him human had once been.
Since the moment he’d taken her all she’d been doing was pushing his boundaries and taunting him. Provoking him.
And you let her. Because you like it.
“You’ve got no fucking idea,” he growled, tugging her arm up higher behind her back, forcing her body harder against his.
“Do it then.” Challenge burned in her eyes. “Hurt me, Elijah. Hurt me the way you wanted to hurt my father. I dare you to.”
He should. Because he could break that slender arm of hers, crush that delicate jaw. Make her scream in agony. Make her hurt the way Fitzgerald had made Marie hurt.
But he couldn’t do it, he just couldn’t bring himself to take that step. Even the thought of it made his skin crawl, made his chest so tight he could barely draw in a breath. And he didn’t know what she’d done to him, because conscience was another thing he’d gotten rid of. Another useless part of himself that got in the way of his plans.
How was she doing it? How was she uncovering all these things inside him he was sure he’d cut out long ago?
He had no idea, it didn’t make sense, and he was still so fucking angry. But he couldn’t hurt her and because he couldn’t hurt her, there was only one thing he could do.
He kissed her smart, stubborn mouth again. Harder, deeper. Pouring all his anger into her, all his grief, making her take it. And she didn’t flinch. Her lips parted and let him in, her mouth hot and soft and generous, accepting everything he gave her. Taking all that rage and turning it into something else, heat and hunger and need.
She was an alchemist. A witch. She worked magic and he should have been hurling her from him, but all he wanted was to pull her close. Lose himself in her the way he’d been denying himself for so many years.
So he did.
Breaking the kiss, he released her so he could drag that silky green top of hers up and over her head. Violet didn’t protest, and she didn’t say a word when he reached around her to jerk open the catch of the complicated arrangement of straps and black lace that was her bra. Then that fell away and those small, perfect tits with the pretty pink nipples he’d traced with his thumb were bare before his gaze.
But he didn’t stop to look because that wasn’t all he wanted.
With a sharp movement, he jerked the expensive leather pants she’d made him buy down her legs, taking the lacy black panties with it. Then he dropped to his knees in front of her, pulling them all the way down and helping her step out of them.
She was naked now, nothing between him and all that silky, bare skin, and he couldn’t tear his gaze away. Pretty ankles and long, elegant calves. Soft thighs perfectly framing the golden curls between them. The curve of her hips and the graceful indentation of her waist … so utterly feminine. Reminding him of everything he’d been missing for such a long time.
She stood there motionless, and he could hear the sound of her quickened breathing, watching as goose bumps rose all over that golden skin. He leaned forward and placed his hands behind her ankles, running his palms up the backs of her calves to her knees, then up to her thighs, spreading his fingers out to touch as much as he could of all that warm, smooth bare flesh.
She trembled, her breath catching sharply.
He looked up at her, his palms resting on the swell of her buttocks, the heat of her soaking into his palms, turquoise eyes meeting his, dark with the same hunger that burned inside of him.
“See?” Her voice was roughened and hoarse. “You can’t do it, can you? I told you so.” She sounded so confident. Like she knew him. Yet another fucking challenge.
She doesn’t know you. She would run from you if she did.
Hell, she’d already done that, hadn’t she? She’d run from him just before, only to let herself be taken by him when he’d caught her.
Gently he squeezed the soft flesh in his hands, watching as her pupils dilated, lips parting in a soundless gasp. The heat of her pussy was right there and he could smell her arousal, the musky spicy scent making his mouth water. Christ, he was so hungry. It had been a long, long time since he’d tasted a woman.
He couldn’t hurt her, she was right about that. But it didn’t mean he couldn’t make her scream.
“You don’t know me, princess,” he said, low and hard. “You know nothing at all.” And he squeezed those soft buttocks, sinking his fingers into her flesh, drawing a shuddering sound from her as he pulled her in close.
Then he bent his head, nuzzling between her thighs, inhaling the scent of musk and woman, feeling another tremble go through her. Yeah, he was going to make her scream, make her understand that she couldn’t fuck with him. That her touch didn’t make him feel things he’d thought long dead. That she didn’t get to him the way she did, not at all.
He was the one who had the power here. He was the one in charge.
His hands tightened on her butt and he covered that pretty little pussy of hers with his mouth.
Violet went stiff in his hands, a raw sound escaping from her.
Fuck, yes. That’s what he wanted to hear.
He licked her, running his tongue up the entire length of her sex then circling her clit in a light, easy stroke, feeling her shudder. God, the taste of her, salty and sweet at the same time, and so fucking delicious. It had been so long since he’d had this. So goddamn long.
He circled her hard little clit with his tongue again, teasing her, listening for that raw sound again and hearing it like a reward, all low and hoarse and desperate. So he did it once more, flicking with his tongue before running it back down the silky, wet folds of her pussy, finding the entrance to her body and pushing deep inside.
She gave a choked cry, her hands landing on his shoulders as if for balance, the weight of her body suddenly sagging against him. “Elijah … God…”
He pushed his tongue deeper, moving one hand from her butt around to stroke her clit with his thumb before parting her wet flesh with his fingers, allowing him greater access.
She began to tremble, the sound of her ragged breathing echoing in the apartment, her fingers digging into his shoulders. “Oh … I can’t … slow
down…”
But he didn’t, because he wasn’t going to do what she said. She was the one who’d pushed him into this, which meant she had to deal with the consequences.
He was going to make her wish she’d let him stay with the punching bag.
Spreading her with his fingers, he licked her, using his tongue to fuck her while his fingers stroked and teased the tender nub of flesh between her thighs, pinching it hard, making her give hoarse little sobs in his ear. Her body tensed, her hips trembling between his hands, and he kept going, kept pushing her because she never stopped pushing him.
“Elijah, please … I can’t…”
The desperation in her husky voice only goaded him on, because, yes, he wanted her begging. He wanted her at his mercy, and if he couldn’t get it through fear, he’d get it through pleasure. She’d been going to use sex to get what she wanted from him after all.
“You’re not doing this to me again, princess,” he growled against her wet, salty flesh. “You’re not manipulating any more fucking confessions out of me. I keep telling you I’m not a toy you can play with. It’s about time you learned exactly who you’re taking on.”
Lifting his head, he shifted his grip on her, sliding two fingers into all that tight, wet heat. Then he leaned in again, running his tongue in slow, deliberate circles around the hard bud of her clit.
Violet gave a low moan. “Oh … fuck…” Her nails were almost drawing blood on his shoulders, her inner muscles tight around his fingers as he slid them slowly in and out of her. “I don’t … Elijah…”
“I want you to scream,” he murmured. “I want you to scream and scream hard.” And he pushed his fingers deep, licking her over and over, relentless. Showing her no mercy. Until she gave him the ragged scream he’d wanted, and her whole body shook, her pussy clenching hard around his fingers.
The scent of sex filled his nostrils, the taste of her in his mouth. She was panting, leaning against him as if she’d collapse if he wasn’t there. And it should have made him satisfied that he’d gotten that from her, a surrender of sorts. Yet he wasn’t satisfied. He felt just as hungry and desperate and angry as he had when she’d first touched his face.
Easing her away from him, he straightened and rose to his feet. Then he picked her up in his arms. She’d gone all soft and relaxed, her face flushed, her expression dazed, one hand rising to touch his chest. And he didn’t know why he wanted to hold her, not when he was still so furious.
Turning, he carried her over to the sofa and laid her down on it, but instead of walking away, he found himself spreading her thighs and settling himself between them, the heat of her pussy pressed against his hard, aching cock. Then he put his palms down on either side of her head, bracing himself so his full weight wasn’t resting on her, looking down into her face.
It felt good to have her naked and exposed and vulnerable while he was fully clothed, good to have her under him, smooth and warm just waiting for the touch of his hand. At his mercy completely.
Desire gripped him tight, like it had earlier that day in the alleyway, his dick in no way satisfied by that brief encounter. Fuck, she was so soft, her body giving beneath his, accommodating him, making him so very aware of everything he’d been missing.
He bent his head to her neck, turning his face against her throat and inhaling the musky, feminine scent of aroused woman. Then he licked her, the salty-sweet taste of her skin going straight to his head.
She shivered in response, her body shifting under his, her hips moving, rubbing that hot little pussy of hers against his jeans, leaving him in no doubt that despite what he’d just done to her, she was as hungry as he was.
Ravenous, he opened his mouth on her shoulder, biting her.
“Eli…” There was no sarcasm in the name now, only a husky heat that moved through him, unstoppable, inescapable. Making him want, making him even more desperate.
So he bit her again, harder.
Her hands were on his back, sliding down to the waistband of the shorts he’d put on for his workout, moving under the cotton of his tank to touch his bare skin and much to his horror, he felt himself shiver in response.
Jesus, what the fuck was happening to him? This woman was dangerous and in ways he’d never expected.
He jerked his head up, shifting to grab those wandering hands of hers and lifting them above her head, pinning them there against the arm of the sofa. He was careful with her injured wrist, making sure the pressure was on the one that hadn’t been cut.
She blinked, looking up into his face. “I want to touch you.”
“No.” His voice sounded rough and unsteady, not like him at all.
“Why not?”
“Because I fucking said so, that’s why.”
She stared at him and for a moment there was only a thick, heavy silence between them.
Her eyes were so dark, all that vivid color a thin band surrounding the black of her pupils all full of arousal and heat. And he wanted to look away because she was staring at him like she could see everything there was to see about him. But that was a weakness he wouldn’t concede, so he just stared back, letting her look.
Then she said suddenly, huskily, “I don’t know what it was that Dad did to you, and I know that I can’t make it any better. But”—she took a breath—“I’m sorry for whatever it was.”
The statement was so out of left field that it took him a second to fully process what she’d said. And then, when he did, it was like she’d lit the fuse on his anger all over again, because what the fuck was she thinking? That offering him an apology would make any difference?
It didn’t change things. It didn’t make what her father had done to Marie any less than the horrific crime it was and it sure as hell didn’t make Marie any less dead.
He opened his mouth to tell her exactly what he thought of that fucking apology, but she hadn’t finished, because she added, still husky and soft. “And I want you know that you can have anything from me. Anything at all, it’s yours.”
Anything …
Heat flooded through him, because, Christ, he could think of exactly what he wanted from her. All the things he wanted to do to her. All the time he had to make up, all the cold, empty years he could fuck away the memory of. Payment for Marie’s death.
It was wrong and it should only add to the anger since there was nothing, nothing, that could make up for what Evelyn Fitzgerald had taken from him. Not money, not power, and most especially not the warm, willing body of this young woman.
Yet he didn’t move away or release her.
He only looked down into those beautiful eyes of hers, slowly darkening with a terrible sympathy he wanted to destroy completely.
“I don’t just want anything,” he said, not caring how harsh he sounded, not caring how rough. And then he leaned down so his face was inches from hers. “I want everything,”
CHAPTER TEN
The intensity in Elijah’s black gaze was inescapable, leaving her in no doubt that he meant exactly what he’d said. And he would take everything, because she would let him.
It was a terrifying thing to realize and if it had been any other man, she would have shoved him off her and run from the room.
But he wasn’t any other man. There was that bleak emptiness behind his eyes and the words that echoed in her brain, fury vibrating in every syllable.
Your father destroyed my life.
She hadn’t fully taken on board that comment earlier, too caught in the fury and heat of him to understand, but now, looking up into his fierce, intent face, she began to understand that something truly terrible had happened to this man. Something her father was responsible for. And now Elijah was taking that out on her.
The weight of him pressed down her, and he was so damn hot. But there was nothing she didn’t like about it, nothing she didn’t want. She had to make up for her father’s sins somehow and if that involved letting this man do whatever he wanted to her then she’d do it.
She hated
that look in his eyes. Hated the bleakness. It felt familiar to her, as if she’d felt it herself, and all she wanted to do was take it away.
“Do it then,” she said hoarsely. “You can take it all.”
And she didn’t expect for a moment that he wouldn’t. He wasn’t a man who hesitated about anything, let alone took half measures.
Sure enough, as soon as she’d said the words, black heat flared in his eyes and his head dipped again, his mouth burning against her throat.
Violet closed her eyes, shivering as his teeth nipped the fragile cords of her neck, his fingers tight around her wrists held above her head. She could feel the hard length of his cock pressing against her sex and she couldn’t stop herself from rocking against it, trying to get more friction, more pressure.
But he wouldn’t let her, the heavy weight of his muscular body crushing her into the sofa cushions, pinning her down so she couldn’t move. Then his free hand was on her, moving from her shoulder down to her left breast, cupping it in his palm, squeezing, his thumb circling her hardening nipple. She tried shifting again, restless and wanting, arching into that teasing hand, gasping as he pinched her hard. Pleasure shot through her, a streak of it arrowing straight between her thighs, and then he did it again and she groaned, moving helplessly, unable to keep still.
His head dropped further, his mouth moving down her body. He cupped her breast in his palm, his tongue finding her nipple and circling, licking. Then he sucked it into his hot mouth, drawing hard on her, sparks scattering behind her closed lids as the pleasure wound tighter and tighter.
Oh, God, this was so good. She was going to drown in this if she let herself. And why not? It was better than slitting her wrists in a bath or running down a cold and icy street. Better than a gunshot ricocheting behind her. Holding back was overrated, clearly. Perhaps giving everything was the way to go, especially when he was going to take it anyway.
Elijah bit gently on her nipple and she gave a long, low moan of frustration, her hips shifting, trying to ease the intolerable ache that was building and building.
Kidnapped by the Billionaire Page 15
