I’ve fallen into a different world, an erotic realm where the rules are different. Inhibitions aren’t allowed. My brain steps back to let my body lead.
It’s magical, sensual, maddening, and freeing. The normal stiffness of my body disappears. Hawke leads. I follow. He commands my body to let go. To move. To simply exist in the moment.
I can do, and be, anything I want. No repercussions. No consequences. No regrets.
I feel like I can fly.
And I’m getting more turned on by the second. My blood heats with each breath. That steady throb between my legs turns nearly unbearable. My entire body coils with tension, and I know it won’t take much to explode. I’m a little more than slightly aroused. My body aches for Hawke.
That might be the only reason I don’t run for the hills. Goddamn, but he’s sexy. I’m not sure what to fear the most. Hawke dirty talking me, or Hawke not speaking, but saying everything with the sway of his hips, the pulse of his breath, and the heat building between us.
“See…” His husky voice makes me shiver. “You’re not so bad at this.”
Our foreheads touch. Our breaths meld. Our bodies sway in unison. My sex throbs with each intoxicating rub against his leg, and I grind against him, shamelessly seeking more friction. More heat. More everything as my core tightens and pleasure builds.
He’s hard. Every now and again, the rocking of his hips hits in just the right way that I can’t help but feel the stiff length of him pressing against me.
Good to know I’m not the only one affected.
“You’re a good teacher.” I barely recognize my voice. Low and sultry, I sound drunk on lust. Each press of his thigh against my sex makes me want to climb his body. Wrap my legs around his hips and damn the consequences.
And why the fuck not? What do you have to lose? One night of passion?
I can’t argue with myself.
Why let my brain lead when my body clearly says yes? Will I ever have another opportunity like this? Sex, freely offered, by a man who’s basically every woman’s wet dream. No strings. No regrets. Nothing but one night of inhibitions falling away. I’ll never have to see him again.
It sounds perfect.
He holds me close. My nipples tighten each time they brush against his chest. My entire body buzzes with the need for more. It tells my brain to shut the fuck up, and for once in my life, take a chance.
“About that kiss…” The low, sultry tones of his voice barely register. “I shouldn’t have taken it, but that asshole needed to know what he lost.”
I place my finger over Hawke’s lips. “I don’t want to talk about Scott.”
“I gave you my word…”
“About that…” I take in a deep breath and go for it, knowing full well what will happen next. My hands wrap around his neck. I lift on tiptoe. And I kiss Hawke Sterling.
His entire body stills. The music thumps around us, but the world ceases to exist. He pulls me tight, leaning into the kiss.
Taking it over.
One hand presses against the small of my back. The other lifts to tangle in my hair. Shivers race up and down my spine.
I’ve never done anything like this before. I’ve never taken the initiative, although I’m not really leading anything here. Hawke is a dominant man who isn’t content to follow, but he is a man of his word.
That kiss? The one we’ve literally danced around since it happened, gets filed away as unavoidable. I couldn’t ask for a more effective way to toss Scott out of my life with his tail tucked between his legs.
But this is my time.
My choice.
My kiss.
“Fuck, Quinn.” Hawke pulls away and rests his forehead against mine. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
“Why? You said if I kissed you…” I peek up at him through my lashes and press my lips together. I taste him. Dark, exotic, primal, and all male, I know exactly what I’m doing.
“I damn well know what I said.” The swirls of emotion simmering in his eyes make me gasp. Lust, desire, hunger, and need all mix together. Before I can think about what I’ve done, he yanks me back to him and covers my mouth with his. Hungry, possessive, and demanding, our lips crush together.
I’m not sure when he lifts me off my feet, except he carries me off the dance floor. My legs wrap around his hips. They know exactly what to do. The way his mouth molds to mine is magic. The velvety press of his lips is soft, loving, and insane.
I open my mouth with a low moan.
All I feel is heat; a raging inferno lights my brain on fire. That warmth spreads down my neck, tightens my nipples, and surges through my body where it gathers with a needy throb between my legs.
If the world ends right now, I wouldn’t care. His kisses are something beyond what I’ve ever experienced. If I’m not careful, I’ll become an addict, but I remind myself this is only for one night.
It has to be. I won’t be able to face him in the morning. But that’s okay. I’ll take this one night. In the morning, I’ll pack my bags, swallow my fear, and book a flight home. I miss my family.
And after this, I’ll have to walk away.
Lust and desire twist inside of me, a force of nature impossible to resist. One night of shedding my identity, loosening the tight hold I keep on my emotions. All I need is one night with Hawke.
We become a grappling mess of limbs. Or at least I do. He holds me in his strong grip as I climb his body. Not really sure where we’re headed, all I care about is getting there fast. Ripping off my clothes. And finally feeling what it means to be truly fucked by a man pushed beyond restraint.
A shudder ripples through my body.
Suddenly, we stop.
“Last chance.” Husky and low, his voice vibrates with passion. “I told you what would happen if you kissed me. I’m going to fuck you. You get one chance to stop this. I’m not a gentle lover, Quinn. I’m going to fuck you and take what I need. Is this what you really want?”
No way am I stopping this.
Not a gentle lover? It takes less than a millisecond to make my decision. My entire life, I’ve played things safe. I’ve thought through every permutation. Weighed the consequences. Compared risks against benefits.
For once in my life, I don’t want that burden. I want to give up that right and simply experience one blissful night with a man driven mad with lust.
My legs tighten around his hips. My ankles cross one another. Between us, his erection strains in his pants.
“Don’t stop.”
“Fuuuck.” He buries his face in the soft hollow of my throat. Wire-tight, I feel his restraint snap.
“Hawke?”
“Yes?”
I never ask for what I need. I’ve never told a man what I wanted. I’ve never allowed myself that freedom.
Never.
And I’m a bit hesitant as it is. But I swallow back my fear, my hesitation, all those things—barriers—which keep me locked inside my head.
“I don’t want gentle.”
I want wild, unrestrained, carnal, lust-fueled fucking from a man I know can give me that and more.
“Thank fuck for that.” His rumbly laughter is both terrifying and exciting. I have a feeling tonight is going to be like nothing I’ve ever experienced before, as long as I can keep my mind out of it.
That’ll be the trick.
His growl is the last thing I hear before he heads into one of the grottos and carries me to the back of a secluded cave.
His wire-tight control slips and falls apart to reveal a snarling beast. One that nips and bites and takes and claims. As if in answer, something snaps within me too.
Twenty-Three
Hawke
Something happened when Quinn kissed me.
My brain lit on fire.
All thought, except one, fizzled in my head.
I need to fuck, and rut, and mount her until I claim every piece of her soul.
I’m not talking about a simple fuck-and-done. An exchange of m
utual pleasure and that’s it. I want to imprint myself on her soul. Lay claim to her body. Erase any evidence of those who came before me. One asshole in particular.
In short, I want to make her mine.
I can’t bear one more minute without her, like she’s some drug I can’t get enough of. I’ve become an addict who needs an instant fix. I’m so strung out; my lungs strain to pull in enough oxygen. There doesn’t seem to be enough air to breathe in the humid mix of salt and sea.
There never is around Quinn.
From our first meeting at the airport, to our time spent on the plane, she keeps me breathless with my need for her.
Her kiss is my salvation, but I recognize it as my torment as well.
I’ll take her tonight, and every day until our time here comes to an end.
But then what?
The barrage of emotion slamming against my heart is nonstop, and if I’m not careful, she’ll lodge herself in where no woman has before.
Salvation and torment all rolled into one.
I’m truly fucked.
The universe is sending a message, but fuck if I care. All that matters is Quinn. I yank her to me, grabbing the back of her neck, and cover her mouth with mine.
She made a mistake in giving me free rein to do as I please. Our lips crush together and we connect in a tangle of limbs. My grip on her neck tightens, asserting dominance. Her breathy moans fill with her surrender. There’s no way she’ll control what comes next, and I have a sinking suspicion that’s exactly what she wants. Miss Quinn Hayes doesn’t want to be in control. That she surrenders that part of herself to me is the most potent aphrodisiac in the world.
Her fingers twine in the hair at my nape, coaxing shivers down my spine. I need her out of these clothes. My dick is about ready to explode. Not that I’ll rush this. I plan on fucking her now and on through morning. This is only the first taste of what I’ll take.
Our kiss ignites the primal desire within us both. I feel it in her soft sighs and the tiny whimpers she can’t control. It’s present in the surrender she yields. We’re connecting on the most basic level a man and woman can connect, but we’ve yet to complete the final act.
My lips brush against hers, not innocently. Not like a tease, but hot, fiery, demanding, and certain of the outcome.
The temperature of the water is warm. The air heated. Mist drifts all around us, cloaking us in a shroud of privacy.
Our clothes are no longer dry, but damp from the misty air. I yank at her ankles, releasing their grip, and force her to her feet. She gives a little mewl of frustration as our lips separate, but then I crash us against the uneven wall of the grotto.
My hands go to the hem of her shirt, and I yank it out from her shorts. She follows, mimicking my actions, and draws mine over my head. I would do the same to her, but would probably rip the fabric in my haste. I’m not so far gone that I forget about the walk back to my private villa. I plan to fuck her beneath the stars and listen to her screams through dawn.
She’s right there with me, panting and biting her lower lip, as she tugs her top over her head. We fumble a bit, too excited to extricate her arms from the wet fabric, but we finally get her free.
A shy smile curves her lips and she looks up at me with her molten, emerald gaze. Her eyes brim with excitement. Her skin flushes with arousal. She wants this, but more than that, I sense this kind of passion is new for her.
It fucking turns me on even more, as if that’s possible. I love that I bring her to this state of frenzied need. And yes, it strokes my ego.
Although, I want her to stroke something else. My cock is so engorged its head peeks out from the tops of my shorts.
Water falls all around us. The grottos are a mixture of hot tub and showers with cascading waterfalls, and steamy mist injected into the air. Faux rock surrounds us, colored in muted greens and blues to emulate the real thing. A traction enhancing surface covers the uneven floor, for obvious reasons. We’re in an alcove tucked behind a waterfall. The rush of water covers the sounds of our lovemaking, sounds which shall soon escalate to cries of passion.
Quinn slips out of her bikini top and attacks me, pressing her lips against mine as my hands find the curve of her breasts. I finally get to explore her body as a lover instead of a sex-starved man held at arm’s length.
If I’m not careful, however, I’ll lose myself to my lust. Which is why I forcibly slow things down and indulge in the sensation of her breasts filling my hands.
Soft and pillowy, her tits pull a groan from my core. My cock gives a nod. It’s eager to quench its thirst and plunge into her wet heat. Quinn’s nipples tighten into hard pebbles.
My dick jerks when I roll her nipples between my thumb and forefinger. The hitching of her breath is a fucking drug. I gently squeeze the tight nubs, but that’s not enough. I need more.
I increase the pressure until she gasps and lifts up on her toes.
Bending down, I growl into her ear. It’s the only warning I’ll give. “You still sure about not being gentle? Because this is only a taste of what’s to come.”
Her panting breath rushes past my ear. Beyond capacity to form words, she answers with a nod. I pull back, so I can see her, and confirm her consent before I forge forward.
She draws her lower lip between her teeth, biting gently, and sucks in a deep breath. I tighten the vise on her nipples, watching her body hitch in pain. Her eyes close, wincing as I press tighter, but then they fly open when I release my hold.
“Holy fuck, Hawke—that’s…” She’s unable to finish whatever it is because I claim her mouth as mine. I do let up, but only because I’m a pretentious prick.
“You liked that?” My question is more for my amusement than needing her reassurance. I sense she’s never experienced the kind of sexual aggression I bring to the table.
“Yes.” She’s fucking drunk on sensation and her breathy response fuels the fire.
I flick open the top button of her shorts and slide the zipper down. She’s going to drive me insane with that whole lip-biting thing, but that’s okay. Revenge will taste so fucking sweet.
I lower her shorts over the flare of her hips and hook my fingers beneath her bikini bottoms. No need to draw this out. Her clothes are wet and they stick to her skin, but my need is greater than that small bit of resistance. Another yank and her bikini slides over her ass. I lower them further to reveal a neatly trimmed patch of hair and the glistening folds of her sex.
She steps out of her shorts, then goes still when I grip her hips and bury my face between her legs. I get the distinct impression she’s never been with a man who took the time to see to her pleasure before his own.
Yet another reason to hate Asshat Scott. By the end of tonight, she’ll know her worth and what to expect from a lover.
I intend to make her come apart. And come. And come again.
A deep inhale and her unique musk floods my senses. Ambrosia of the gods, I can’t wait to taste her. She squirms a bit, but I hold her in place, letting her know she’s mine to control and not the other way around.
My tongue darts out and licks the tip of her clit. She gasps and her entire body shudders. She’s fucking close and I’ve yet to really begin. What Scott doesn’t know is that selfish pricks miss out on all the fun. The best part of sex isn’t the plunge-and-go orgasm. It’s in taking your partner to new heights of sensation. In making her come apart in your hands and fly over and over again.
I won’t be satisfied until she’s had at least one orgasm before I take her. Two would be better. And by the time the sun rises, we’ll be working our way to double digits. From her responsiveness to my touch, I’m pretty certain we’ll hit that number, or come remarkably close.
With that goal in mind, I dive right in and lick along the seam of her sex. She gives a little screech and her hands fly to my head where her fingers dig into my hair. They twist and grab, pulling at the roots while I lick her through and past her first soul-sundering orgasm. Her throat opens an
d she screams my name.
Fucking hell! My name on her lips practically makes me come right there.
She practically rips my hair out by the roots. Her thighs quiver and her body shakes. I have to hold her through it because I’m afraid she’ll actually fall over.
Slowly, the wave courses through her. The shaking in her legs eases. Her breaths deepen as she recovers. I stand, supporting her the entire time, and take her in my arms where she weeps with pleasure.
Or at least that’s what I think. Those must be tears of joy. If not, I’ve royally fucked up.
Twenty-Four
Quinn
What the hell just happened?
My entire world exploded. Bright lights. Shooting stars. Light followed by blissful nothingness.
Little death? I think that’s what people say an orgasm should feel like: le petit morte.
I never knew it could feel like that.
I’ve never experienced that kind of earth-shattering, toe-curling, breath-taking, mind-altering, whole-body experience before. My nerves are still firing erratically as if they’re not sure what happened either.
Hawke holds me. Strong arms wrap around me. If not for him, I’d be passed out on the ground.
And I’m crying.
Soft sobs spill from my lips. Tears leak from my eyes. I’m a blubbering, blissfully sedated mess.
Why?
I don’t know.
Maybe, because I never knew sex could be like that. I didn’t know it could feel like that.
I’m still catching my breath. My heart’s given up the chase. My pulse galloped away and it’s going to be some time before I come down from this high.
It’s as if I’ve been robbed of orgasms my entire life. Scott was a thief, giving me only the bare minimum to keep me interested. I thought the orgasms he gave me were normal.
A light tingling.
A bit of tightness.
A flush of pleasure, featherlight, tickling between my legs.
Who knew an orgasm could be so much more? So intense?
“Are you okay?” Hawke rubs my back and soothes me with the liquid silk of his voice.
Hawke: Christmas in Paradise (Billionaire Boys Club) Page 16