“It’s one of those songs…” I drag a hand through my hair. “I wasn’t ready to feel it before.”
He straightens from the doorframe. “You feel it now?”
I feel so many things, but chief among them is acceptance. Acceptance of his mistakes and imperfections, his bad days and bad moods, and the scariest of all, his mortality. He might look like a god, but he’s not invincible. He could die, abandon me in grief, but I accept that risk. Because I’m decidedly, irrevocably committed to fighting for a future with him.
“I feel it.” My feet carry me forward, one shoe sliding before the other.
His lips part, and the necktie in his hand slips through his fingers, slowly pooling on the floor.
When I reach him, I flatten my palms on his chest, caressing the soft fabric of the button-up and savoring the rhythmic pound of his heart.
“Say you won’t let go.” I peer up into his crystal blue eyes.
“I won’t let go, Danni.” His arms envelope me, lifting me up his chest to touch his forehead to mine. “You’re stuck with me.”
Tension loosens inside me, replaced by waves of warmth, hope, promise.
I hug his shoulders and hook my legs around his hips. “I love you.”
His breath catches, and he tightens his arms, burying his face in my neck. “I feel like I’ve been waiting my entire life to hear you say that.”
“The hard-won victory.” I smile and stroke the trimmed hair on his nape.
He leans back and stares at my mouth. “These are the moments worth fighting for.”
“The moments of utter madness.”
He captures my mouth in a kiss that transports us into passionate communication. The trembling slide of our lips confesses our fears. The rub of our tongues promises we won’t take advantage of each other. The clash of our teeth vows we will fight for this, for us.
Fingers clutching, heads tilting, we plunge deeper, faster, into a boundless place where souls touch and dreams swell. Entwined together by an untamed force, we lick and moan and fuse with belonging and commitment.
It’s a kiss that defines love, and when our lips separate, I feel it everywhere, stretching beneath my skin, growing, protecting, and persevering.
“Wow.” He pants against my mouth. “That was…”
“As real as it gets.” I lower my feet to the floor, rubbing my tingling lips.
His stunned expression makes me laugh. Then I laugh harder, because he just looks so perplexed.
“Are you ready to hit the road?” I ask.
“I’m rethinking that plan.”
“Oh, no. You promised me a date without panties.”
A growl vibrates in his chest. But rather than arguing, he snatches the necktie from the floor and holds it up. “With or without?”
“I don’t like casual sex. You should wear the tie.”
With a smirk, he moves to the mirrored wall and lifts his chin, efficiently tying the knot at his neck. “You assume we’re having sex tonight.”
“Don’t fuck around with me, Trace Savoy, or I’ll kick your ass.”
“All I heard was fuck and ass.”
“Dangerous words. Shall I pull out the thirteen-inch dildo for his pleasure?”
His chest hitches with an almost-laugh, and he stares at the floor, smiling to himself.
“What?” I step into his space, squinting up at him.
“You make me ridiculously happy.” He trails his fingers across my cheek and tucks my hair behind my ear. “It’s a novel feeling, like I discovered a magical cure. But with that comes the overwhelming need to lock you away and protect you.”
Lock me away? I laugh. “I won’t go quietly.”
“I expect nothing less.” He grabs my hips and throws me over his shoulder.
The air rushes out of me. I hang upside down, bracing my hands on his back as blood drains to my head.
He pivots toward a mirror and flips up the skirt of my dress, exposing my nude backside. “Goddamn, I wish you could see this.”
I crane my neck, attempting to catch a glimpse of my reflection, but the angle’s off. I see his hand, though, as it glides up my thigh and disappears between my legs.
“I fantasize about your pink little cunt and all the ways I’m going to tear it up.” His voice is guttural and breathy, his fingers creeping, sinking, twisting into my pussy.
Liquid heat melts through my body and dampens my folds. I sag, boneless and panting, draped over his shoulder.
“Already wet.” He thrusts his hand, stimulating my inner muscles and shortening my breaths. “So fucking responsive.”
Pleasure rises, consuming me in pulses of electricity.
Until his touch disappears.
“Not yet.” He presses a kiss to my hip, adjusts the skirt over my butt, and caveman-carries me out of the house, locking the door behind him.
“You’re such a tease.” I squirm in his hold as the driveway blurs beneath his swift long strides.
He laughs, dumps me into the backseat of the waiting sedan, and proceeds to tease me for the duration of the thirty-minute drive.
I don’t know where we’re going, and I can’t find my voice to ask. His fingers are relentless, bringing me to the brink of orgasm and pulling back before I come. Over and over and over.
He keeps me in a heightened state of arousal, teasing and denying to the point of mindlessness. So mindless the driver’s presence in the car fades into oblivion. It’s not like I’ll ever see him again. Trace’s drivers are as consistent as his moods.
“We’re here.” Trace slides his fingers from between my legs and straightens my clothes.
That’s not going to work. My insides clench so viciously I’m seconds from exploding.
“I need to come.” I release the seatbelt and swing a leg over his lap, fumbling with the button on his fly. “Just fuck me. Right here.”
The driver—an older gentleman in a black suit—steps out and shuts the door. Beyond the windows, the only building in sight is a gas station, surrounded by a packed parking lot and endless crop fields.
I mold my fingers around the hard shape of him beneath the zipper. “Pull it out, Trace. We can be quick.”
He straightens his tie. “I’m thinking about Virginia in her granny panties.”
My head jerks back, eyes wide. “What the actual fuck?”
“Guaranteed boner-buster.” He lifts me off his lap and steps out of the car, pulling me with him. “This place has the best Bar-B-Q.”
“It’s a gas station,” I grumble and trudge beside him, my hand locked in his and my thighs sticking together. “I’m dripping down my legs.”
“Dripping is exactly how I want you.”
The discomfort continues through dinner. He keeps his hands to himself, but those damn hooded eyes never stop touching me, caressing me, and making my pussy thrum.
And the gas station in the middle of nowhere? Turns out, it serves the best pulled-pork sandwiches I’ve ever tasted.
Bellies full, we’re back in the car, riding along a dirt road in the middle of cornfields. I think it’s corn. The sun closes in on the horizon, and all I see is tall stalks of rippling green against the fading blue sky.
I rest my head on Trace’s shoulder. “Are we going to have sex in a field of corn?”
“No.”
“On a horse?”
“No.”
“In an abandoned shack with chainsaws and a musty mattress?”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “That’s a negative.”
“But we’re going to have sex. Just tell me where and how soon.”
“Look out the windshield.”
I lean forward and spot something huge and colorful flapping in the distance. “What is that?”
The car draws closer, bumping on the uneven road and jolting my excitement. As the ginormous object grows and lifts from the field, it takes on a round, recognizable shape.
“Get the fuck out!” I gasp as a hot air balloon blooms from a basket tied to the gro
und. “We’re doing that?”
“We’re doing that.” He watches me with amusement.
I stare back at him, grinning. “Look at you, all sweet and melty, like a mushy-gushy cookie.”
He grimaces. “Let’s not blow this out of proportion.”
I turn back to the balloon. “This is epic proportions, Trace. Huge gold stars for you, the kind that earn you blow jobs for days.”
“I just want you.” He grips my knee. “You for an eternity.”
“Done.”
When we exit the car, a middle-aged, tattooed woman with a pixie haircut strides across the field. “Mr. Savoy?”
“You must be Lori,” he says.
They shake hands, and he introduces me.
“I’ll be your pilot tonight.” She tips her head back, smiling skyward. “What a beautiful night to fly. The thermals are ideal. We should drift along at an even speed without any turbulence. There’s champagne in the basket. Feel free to board. We’ll depart in a minute.”
And that’s how I find myself floating into a happily-ever-after sunset with the gorgeous, swoonable man of my dreams.
Except that man is Trace, and beneath the illusion of sweet romance lurks sinful intent and depravity.
Two-thousand feet in the air, I grip the handrail of the five-person basket, lost in the glowing curvature of the earth and the warm gentle wind lifting my hair.
That’s the moment he attacks. My skirt goes up, and a forceful hand presses against my tailbone, immobilizing me against the interior wall of the basket. My gasp cuts off as he kicks my feet apart and drives a flesh-pounding palm against my exposed butt.
“Trace!” My lungs heave, and my backside catches fire. “Stop!”
He spanks me repeatedly, harder, faster, grunting with heavy breaths. I don’t know which cheeks are redder—my ass beneath his strikes or my face, because holy shit, we’re not alone in this basket. Lori is right behind us, piloting the burner.
I lift on my toes, fighting against the hand that pins me to the railing. But with every bone-jolting smack, my embarrassment begins to give way to heart-thudding anticipation.
The breathy noises coming from him isn’t exertion. He’s worked up. Three-weeks-without-sex worked up. All that control he exhibited on the way here is unraveling by the second, and when the tethers finally snap, his pent-up tension will be directed at me, on me, deep inside me two-thousand feet in the air.
Like a switch flipping inside me, the smarting pain crashes into a tendril of smoldering lava, seeping into my veins and liquefying my bones. I droop over the railing with my head hanging out of the basket.
The spanking stops. The hand on my back tightens, fisting the gathered material of my dress and yanking me back.
I look over my shoulder just as he lowers to his knees behind me and plunges his tongue between my legs. I get a half-second glimpse of Lori—with her back to us and bulky headphones on her ears—before blinding sparks of pleasure blot my vision.
The swirl of his tongue steals my breath and quivers my legs. I swallow without air, clawing at the wicker braiding of the basket and sinking against the pressure of his mouth.
God, he knows how to eat pussy. There’s no gentle lapping or prudent licks. He gets in there, burying his face, working his jaw, and fucking me deeply with his tongue. Then his fingers join in, stirring the rim of my opening and gathering moisture. He slides his touch an inch back, and another inch, breaching the pucker of my rear hole.
“Did he fuck you here?”
The deep rasp of his voice swivels my head, and I come face to face with searing blue eyes. Sweet mercy, he’s gorgeous, with his lips separated and swollen, the cords in his neck taut, and his bedroom eyes hooded with desire.
“Can she hear us?” I glance at the back of Lori’s head and return to him.
“No.” He bites the inside of my thigh. “We have ten minutes before she turns off the music.”
Given the shortness of his breaths and the sharpening intensity in his expression, we’ll only need a fraction of that time.
He presses his wet finger against my rectum. “Answer my question.”
“Yes.” My jaw flexes. “He fucked me there.” A lot.
His nostrils flare, and his finger sinks past the tight clamp of muscle, slowly at first, then fuck! He penetrates me with ruthless thrusts. His mouth lowers to my pussy, and all I can do is hold on as he sucks and laves and rips moans from my throat.
My eyes roll back in my head, and my chest drops to the railing as my entire body dissolves into trembling bliss.
The finger in my ass curls at the perfect angle, applying exquisite pressure. The orgasm sneaks up and slams into me instantly, shockingly, violently.
I’m still coming as he surges to his feet, fumbles with his zipper, and pulls me back against his chest.
“Eyes on the horizon,” he breathes at my ear.
I slump against him and stare forward. When his hand collars my throat and clenches, I shiver all over.
His dominance pushes all my buttons and sweeps the ground from beneath my feet. Every action he takes demonstrates exactly how much effort and energy he’s willing to invest in me.
It’s a trait I greatly appreciate after all the unassertive guys I’ve been with. How do you want me to fuck you? I don’t know. How about you just take control without asking? Okay, maybe I’ll just lie here and do nothing while you suck my dick.
With Trace, everything is on his terms, premeditated and carefully designed. The headphones on the pilot gives us privacy. The teasing on the way here ensured I’d be primed for multiple orgasms within the ten-minute time frame.
He’s overbearingly controlling, but it makes me feel safe, protected. I love that he’s such a prominent man—physically powerful and socially influential. No one would ever fuck with me. That’s why I crave the power restraining my airway, controlling my movements, and pressing, hard and hot, against my pussy.
I’m sloppy wet, so when he drives his hips, his cock slides right in. But it’s tight, and the stretch is incredible. With a deep groan, he buries himself to the hilt, strangling a gasp in my throat.
Then he moves—savage, vigorous thrusts that don’t slow or relent. With my frantic pulse in his palm, he hisses past his teeth and grips my waist, his hips hammering and grinding with desperate urgency.
My body’s his vessel, his flesh to pound, and he doesn’t hold back, stroking me up and down on his cock and jacking himself off.
I fucking love it, need it. “More.”
“I’ll never get enough of you.” His hand flexes against my throat, his furious grunts panting at my ear. “Fucking love you.”
“Yes, yes, yes…” I moan, reaching behind me to touch him, to hold him closer.
A growl erupts from his chest, and he pulls out, spinning and lifting me before slamming me down on his dick.
My legs straddle his hips. My arms encircle his neck, and I ride him, kiss him, and chase him into orgasm.
We come together, gazes locked, bodies writhing, thrusting, and joined as one.
“I love you, too.” I rest my face against his, our noses sliding together, and breaths ragged.
After we regain our senses and straighten our clothes, he stands behind me, caging me against the railing in the safety of his arms. I spend the rest of the ride watching the sunset while he nuzzles and kisses my neck, whispering soft words and hungry promises.
I didn’t understand the depth of his sexual appetite until he unleashed it. His wandering hands and fevered kisses don’t leave my body, not in the balloon, not in the car on the way home, and not when he leads me into my house and locks the door.
He strips us both of our clothes in the dance studio, and only then does he release me to set a folding chair in the center of the room.
“Sit.” He doesn’t wait for me to obey and strides over to the sound system, mouth-wateringly nude. “Your taste in music is growing on me.”
“You’re a Beyoncé fan?” I lo
wer into the chair, biting down on my smile.
I learned over the past few weeks that Stuffy Suit Savoy listens to rap music, of all things.
“I went to that concert for you.” He messes with the stereo, and the intro to Close by Nick Jonas & Tove Lo hums through the room.
Prowling back to me, he grips his hardening cock and begins to stroke. The song shivers with sex and seduction, but nothing compares to the predatory look in those blue eyes.
Shivers rain over my nude skin as he closes in, straddles my thighs with his legs straight, and fists the hair on the back of my head. The erection in his hand stands thick and hard and level with my mouth.
I wet my lips and stare up at him. “You want me to suck you?”
“Yes.” An unbending response, issued from kissable lips.
I lift my hands to hold that beautiful cock.
“No.” He yanks my head back by my hair, and his eyes smile blue flames. “Lock your fingers together behind the chair.”
I follow his order, the position pulling back my shoulders and lifting my breasts. Nude and trembling, I ache to take him to the brink of pleasure and stare into his eyes as I send him over.
He trails a finger along my jawline and lifts my chin, holding himself within the reach of my lips. “If I never feel the touch of another woman, it’ll be a tremendous blessing.”
Warmth swells in my chest. “Don’t worry. I’ll beat them off you with a stick.”
“Open your mouth, Danni.”
I lower my jaw, and he touches the plump head of his cock to my lips, gliding it around the curve of my mouth. Then he slides onto my tongue, inching in, groaning, fingers flexing in my hair.
Since we didn’t clean up after the balloon ride, I taste myself on him and smell our passion in the trimmed patch of his hair. It’s filthy and erotic and wildly irresistible.
His legs shake, and the rock of his hips starts slow and steady. He thrusts, and I lick around his girth. He grunts, and I suck harder, deeper. When he finally lets go and kicks into a pounding frenzy, I relax my tongue and glory in the claiming.
He gives me every ruthless, unrestrained inch of his desire, and I still want more.
It doesn’t take long before he peaks, and when he comes, his mouth hangs open in ecstasy, his hands clenching in my hair and his eyes locked on mine.
Love Triangle: Six Books of Torn Desire Page 22