by Marie Harte
He should have just gone to her. Should have been better than her disdain. He’d been trained better than this. He knew how to padlock emotions and make decisions that saved the most lives. But Charlotte Sinclare hadn’t just picked his lock. She smashed it. She’d started the job three years ago and finished it three weeks ago with the hammer of her scent, pounding him with all of its succulent glory.
Laughter echoed in his mind. He recognized it at once. It was destiny, having a field day because of his idiocy. Pheromones are a bunch of science fiction bullshit, eh, Tiernan?
He groaned. It was a full-on plea for mercy and he didn’t care who heard. As the sound tormented his nerves with its vibrations, so did another memory of Lottie’s essence. Sweet. Erotic. Engulfing.
He needed more—and hated himself for the weakness. Without shame, he grabbed at the crux of his thighs. His sacks were surely every shade of blue by now. His mind swam, drowning in an ocean of lust. He prayed each desperate breath would somehow bring more of her scent to him.
He needed to be part of her. He needed her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck, and her scream of release in his ear.
The only thing he breathed in was pain.
“Nnnuuhh,” he stammered. “Gggeergggh.”
“Kade! Hang on!” Wick again. Or Dreah? He couldn’t tell anymore.
“N-n-n-o.” His blood was hot oil, turning his bones into steak fries. “Cah-cah-can’t. W-W-Wick…” Kill me. Do it now, damn you!
Her scent attacked him anew. It seemed to blast the whole room. Strawberries and cream. Hibiscus and honey. More booze he’d never afford. More of the woman he’d never have.
“K-Kaden?”
Her voice yanked him up with the force of a steel cable.
Everything zoomed into focus again.
Whoa. Wait. Was he just imagining this? Sliding farther down the hill of lunacy? He shook his head, the jerks awkward and violent, but suddenly his vision sharpened.
“Lottie.”
She still looked like an angel. As she stepped fully inside the house, sunlight turned the back of her head into a halo. Her hair was longer. It fell over her forehead in inky slashes. Between the strands, her eyes were huge and luminous and anxious. Other clumps of hair were plastered to her neck, shiny with perspiration. Her lips trembled. Oh hell, her whole body trembled. Her hands, buried in the pockets of a light pink hoodie, twisted restlessly. Beneath the hoodie, she wore black skintight leggings that showed off every stunning muscle in her legs.
Please don’t be another dream.
If she was, then he prayed for the next best thing.
Please let me die in the illusion of stripping that outfit totally off you.
“Is—is it you?” Her voice sounded small and raspy. “I f-followed the address you gave me but it was hard to drive…”
“It’s okay.” He didn’t trust himself to move toward her. Not yet. There was the small matter of all the extra eyes in the room. But he didn’t waver his gaze from her while ordering, “Everybody get out.”
“Geek bitch, I presume?” Dreah muttered.
“Ohhh yeah.” Wick chuckled.
“Seriously?” Dreah snorted. “Kade, your room’s only one flight up. Can’t you—”
“Out!” On the other hand, he didn’t care whether they stayed or left. In two strides, he reached Charlotte and hauled her close, drowning in the ocean of her gaze. A giant grin curved his lips. His heart battered his ribs.
“Y-you were right.” Her chin wobbled. She ran her hands up his chest, digging her fingernails into his pecs before smashing her face to the valley between them and breathing him in with quavering greed. “Is that what you want to hear? You were right, okay?”
“It doesn’t matter, beautiful. It doesn’t matter now.”
A sob broke out of her. “I hate this!”
“I know.”
“I need you!”
“I know.”
“I—”
He couldn’t hold himself back anymore. As he’d done in his mind a thousand times this week, Kade slammed his lips over hers with sole intent—getting as deep into her blood, her body, her very breaths as he possibly could—in short, exactly what she’d done to him in the last four days. She responded with a deep whimper. He returned a savoring growl. What was the saying? Payback’s a bitch? Not in this case. This time it was a hungry, greedy, glorious blessing, and he planned on seizing every drop of it.
The baby grand piano was behind her. Kade rammed her against it then parked her sweet little ass on the keyboard. As dissonant notes bounced through the room, he rolled his hips until they settled between hers. She was hot and soaked for him already, her arousal drenching through her leggings and his BVDs. The heady tang of her lust permeated the air—and him. His eyes rolled back as the perfume fisted his cock and cluster-fucked his nerves.
The torment worsened as he stared down at her, breathless and sweaty and right where she belonged. Under him. He bent her back farther, pressing her over the music rack while suckling hungry lips at the column of her neck. “You taste like berries and cream. Fuck yes, Lottie.” As she swallowed, her muscles undulating beneath him, he scraped his teeth along the line of her jaw. “I’ve been without this for too damn long.”
Charlotte’s chest pumped frantically against his. Her arms shook as she dragged hands up to his nape, scoring pain into his shoulders and neck…the most perfect pain of his life. Kade let a moan explode as she dragged her brutal touch across his skin again. The physical burn exposed how close his mind teetered toward the abyss of primeval darkness, a raw and untamed beast. That animal clawed harder at his control when she followed her nails with her mouth, licking at the paths like a starving kitten. He tilted his head to give her better access, bursting with a gruff laugh when she tired of that and started using her teeth. Hard.
“Damn,” he snarled. “Ohhhh, damn.”
“Sorry.” There were horrified tears in her desperate rasp. “I’m sorry. You just…taste so…”
“Do it again.”
“Wh-what?”
“You heard me, geek. Do it again. It’s what you need. It’s what I need.”
“Kade, I—I don’t—”
As he cut her short with a scorching growl, a soft click echoed from behind him. He likely wouldn’t have noticed the sound except for the result it produced. Music poured from the stereo, filling the room, drowning the plonks and tings he and Charlotte produced in ensuring they’d keep the piano tuner employed this week. The move was clearly Wick’s idea of perverted humor. Last week, his friend had laid electric guitar tracks on top of Ravel’s Boléro, turning the hypnotic fuck-me-here-and-now classic into a rock opera piece, the guitar lines replacing Ravel’s piccolo melody.
Or maybe his friend simply knew the choice was perfect.
Kade twisted his hand in Charlotte’s hair, forcing her lips to his collarbone. “Taste,” he directed. “And bite. And suck. And lick. Get me inside you any way you can.” When she gulped and hesitated again, he crushed his face to the curve of her ear—before clamping his teeth to it. “Do it.”
As her mouth opened against his shoulder, oboes twined with Fender in blatant sexual invitation.
As he teethed the skin below her ear, the snare drums picked up their pace.
She ran her tongue back up his shoulder. He unzipped her jacket in one slash of motion.
Flutes joined in the urgent melody.
She scratched both hands down his back. He hissed, openly bidding her to do it again. She dug in twice as hard as he flicked her bra open then shoved it off her shoulders.
“Kade!” She arched as he ran his thumbs across her stiff, dark nipples.
She was so gorgeous. So naked. So open. So his.
The song climbed into a key change. Bass drums pounded as Wick’s guitar grinded on the notes, the musical version of a climax gathering force.
“Lottie.” He needed to taste her nipples, too. He groaned in sheer pleasure as he did. Trin
a had always spoiled him rotten with rich desserts but none of his sister’s creations compared to the decadence filling his tongue now. He suckled at the erect points with harder need, rejoicing in the gasps emanating from the lungs beneath his mouth. For once, he was grateful for his upgraded hearing. The quickening rush of blood through her heart was like a jungle mating call to the beast prowling his veins.
As he continued feasting on her breasts, he felt her teeth running through his hair. As usual, the mess had gotten longer over the week, but he’d barely had the strength to wash it let alone get to the barber. He was glad for that now. Charlotte moaned like a reveler at a pagan feast as she pulled it taut with her teeth then twirled it around her tongue. Every time she did, ropes of fire twined down his neck, through his torso, then formed a perfect lasso around his dick.
It wasn’t long before she had him grunting hard and fast. He needed release. Now.
With one tug at his briefs, his erection was finally free. He hissed as the liquid pearl at its tip met the air. His mind threatened to spin again, but he kept grounded by sliding hands beneath her leggings and grabbing the sweet globes of her ass. Charlotte mewled as he pulled her wider for him—exactly what he’d hoped for, and had damn near expected.
He didn’t gloat in the success of the prophecy. He was grateful for it. This knowledge of her, like their biological wiring had simply fused together…it was unlike anything he’d known with a woman. Unlike anything he’d had with another person.
He forced the back alleys of his mind into a reality check.
She’s not your goddamn spirit match, man. She’s not even your friend.
The two of them were pawns. Game pieces in a biological chess match, calculated risks at perpetuating their species. So far, it was sure as fuck working. It hadn’t escaped him that thanks to their first-time frenzy, he might’ve already planted a baby inside her. Though he was stunned the concept didn’t terrify him as much as a nuclear threat, he made sure to take precautions now.
“Take these off.” He gave her leggings a tug as commanding as his tone. As Charlotte eagerly complied, he reached for a box on top of the piano. With all the bump-and-grind Wick and Giselle had been subjecting them to around here, Dreah had wisely disguised decorative boxes as condom containers throughout the villa. He was damn glad she’d made such a big deal out of it. After yanking out the last available rubber, he hurled the empty box away.
Wick’s guitar soared over a galloping drum beat. The tempo matched the beat of his blood. He stripped the briefs off completely then realigned himself between Charlotte’s legs. He bent her back again, descending his mouth to hers with new hunger. Her bare thighs trembled against his, hot and slick with her sweat. He inhaled her juicy cherry scent, thinking of dark pink maraschinos on top of thick whipped cream. Or perhaps that was because her nipples evoked the same incredible image, the tips red and luscious against the ivory mounds that pillowed against his chest.
His blood throbbed. His muscles tensed. He drove his tongue deeper, sampling the recesses of her mouth as the keys beneath her buttocks sent out more wild discords, a weirdly perfect harmony with the cacophony of Wick’s music.
He managed to stretch the condom over his swollen stalk. Once that was done, his body gave his mind the giant fuck-off. Now lined up at her soft entrance, he spread the wings of her pussy and felt his way along the precious ridge of flesh at her core. As he caressed her there, Charlotte screamed.
“Kade! Ohhhh!”
“Almost there, Lottie. Goddamn, you’re so ready. Me too, beautiful. Me too.”
“Then do it! God, pl—”
He took the rest of it from her with another starving kiss. His cock still acted by itself, nudging another half-inch into her. He stopped himself long enough to pull his head up, issuing an exigent order at her ear.
“Wider.”
With a sexy moan, she complied. Her heels made two noisy chords, one in the highest key and one in the lowest, as she slammed them to opposite ends of the keyboard. To keep her balance, she grabbed his ass. He had no idea the little geek was so flexible but was damn fucking thankful for it. His cock swelled as he pressed it deeper into her tight tunnel. Charlotte sighed, her grip brutally strong as she scraped at his ass cheeks. A thousand fires lit up every inch of his nervous system.
“Tighter,” he commanded.
“Yes.” She fitted her mouth to the base of his neck. Her grip on his ass turned feral, urging him on. “Now,” she begged. “Please, Kade. Now!”
Wick’s guitar and Ravel’s horns crashed toward a crescendo. Kaden lunged toward his.
“Fuck!” he exclaimed. Her body had to be hot as the fires of hell. If that was the case, then he readily relinquished his soul. God only knew his cock would never be the same again, his whole length straining in an ageless, wordless need to fuse their bodies. The storm of the music churned with the cyclone of his senses, driving him into a sexual oblivion beyond his wildest dreams.
Charlotte cried out as he arched her torso farther. He couldn’t stop himself. Wood snapped beneath them. He hooked his hands over the piano’s rim, using the new leverage to slam harder into her. Charlotte’s head fell back all the way, her mouth opened in mesmeric surrender. Kade bent and took her bottom lip in a lingering bite. Holy shit, she tasted good.
“Give it to me, Lottie.” His harsh breaths mated with hers as he issued it. “Give it all to me. Don’t hold back.”
A shudder claimed her body. She grabbed the back of his head, clutching him as her pussy constricted. She started to sob, the final yank he needed to leap off the cliff of control and follow her over. The magma of orgasm welcomed him. His cock became flames. His vision swam. When he thought he’d spilled everything, another flood crashed over him. He groaned in ecstasy and amazement, heat rocketing from him all over again, pure energy flowing through him.
He had no idea how much time passed before he was able to breathe normally again. Before he was able to think again. The music had long since stopped. Silence blanketed the air.
He was a hot, satisfied, dumbfounded mess.
Beneath him, Charlotte continued to softly sob. She curled around him, and started to shake.
Hell. She was an even bigger mess.
Chapter Five
‡
STILL CLUTCHING KADEN for balance, Charlotte lifted her head and forced her mind back to reality. Forced, capital F.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. At all.
The week had been hell. The lust had been unbearable from the second Kaden pulled away from Spectrum, four days ago. Charlotte had balled up in her chair, able to gauge every mile he drove simply by the knot that tightened, notch by agonizing notch, deep in her womb.
But she’d been able to keep the need at a dull roar—for the first two days. After one slip of her mind in the shower, it was just as awful as before. Hot. Demanding. Devouring. Her mind’s eye had burst to life with all the erotic glory of him. She saw his coiled muscles as he held her, his determined face as he kissed her, his magnificent body as he entered her…
For the first time in her life, she’d used her vibrator more than once in one night. If she didn’t know better, she’d think her body was just taking revenge for all the years she’d been too damn career-focused to enjoy this stuff. But she did know better, and the climaxes—all four of them—only made things worse. Nothing came close to how Officer Built-Like-A-Thoroughbred had made her detonate. A lot of cold showers later, she’d come to an undeniable conclusion. Her body was a disaster zone.
Smugly—stupidly—she’d then assumed Kaden would cave first. After days of torment, she finally admitted he’d been right. Denying their pull to each other really could land them in padded rooms, begging for cyanide pizza.
One of them had to suck up their stubbornness. So she’d sucked.
Now here she was, trying to find the puddle of her pride where she’d dumped it on the floor. It was time to wipe the slop up and get the hell out of here.
&nb
sp; Problem number one: she couldn’t locate her own toes right now.
Problem number two: hormones often loved joining their pheromone buddies, as she proved by continuing to cry like she’d gotten hit by ten cases of PMS at once.
Problem number three: Kade had turned into the easiest person in the world to cry on. He was still locked inside her, keeping her close and tight. With one hand, he stroked her hair. With the other, he gently pulled on her legs, coaxing her to wrap herself around him.
“It’s okay.” His voice was low yet strong. “Let it out, beautiful. I want all of this too.”
She shook her head. “No. I have to—I can’t—”
“Hush. I don’t mind. I—” He cleared his throat, the emission seeming strange and awkward, before he leaned and lightly sucked at her tears. “These are gifts to me, Lottie. Every single one. And damn, they taste incredible.”
Before she could rein it back, a laugh broke out. All right, it was more like a snort. Kaden smiled against her blushing cheek before lowering his hands to her hips again.
“Wrap tighter,” he instructed. When she did, he pulled her off the piano and fully into his embrace. Charlotte wanted to protest, but his arms felt so good. His sex, still buried inside her, was so perfect. But the best part was his heartbeat, perfect as a crackling fire on a winter night, suffusing her senses with warmth. The overwhelming urge to go limp took over…to just be.
Maybe for a few seconds…
Again, so stupid.
She wanted a lot more than a few seconds. She willingly gave them, dropping her head against Kade’s shoulder as he turned and started walking.
Where?
The answer didn’t seem to matter. Charlotte straddled him tighter, trusting in a way she hadn’t since girlhood, as she felt him climb a flight of stairs. At the top, he cut a sharp left, took a half dozen steps then used his knee to open a door. Beyond the portal, she sensed they were in a bedroom. Wherever they were, the space was exclusively his. The air was permeated with the rich smell of caramel, candles, and ocean spray belonging to him alone. She was grateful when he shut the door and sealed them in.
