Romeo (Payne Brothers Romance Book 6)

by Sosie Frost

  But why?

  Why did my trip distress him? Why did he care so ferociously that he’d fight and beg and demand every secret of mine to prevent me from leaving?

  This wasn’t about the pact we’d made or the feud we’d promised to end or the families we longed to protect.

  Quint had come for me.

  He battled himself as hard as I’d struggled against my own heart. We both wished to be rid of the other. Hated the attraction. Denied our feelings.

  I would’ve done anything to be made his for just the night. But I would’ve done so much more if I might have freed myself from his touch, his voice, and the damned possibilities and imagined futures that would never come true.

  Quint covered my trembling fist with his calloused hand. His tone softened, tired of fighting those terrible urges that promised such beautiful moments of weakness.

  “Tell me what to do…” He whispered. “I’ll do it. Tell me to fuck off, I’ll go. Tell me to stay, and I’m yours.”

  I couldn’t imagine such heartbreak or pleasure. “What if I ask you to stop wanting me?”

  “If you’re leaving, leave.” He spoke the words but refused to let me go. “But don’t rob me of my desire. Once you’re gone, it’ll be all I have left.”

  The man could just as easily tear my heart out as he could make me laugh and smile.

  I stayed still. “What happens if I tell you to kiss me?”

  He refused to answer, but he obeyed the command.

  He cradled my face between his hands and met my lips with a parted desperation that muffled both our groans within the twisting caress of our tongues.

  I faded into him. Wrapped my arms around his neck, buried my fingers in his hair, and surrendered to the utter insanity of a deliberate mistake.

  I’d imagined this moment for so long, but until this point, it was nothing but a naïve fantasy that couldn’t compare to the reality that was his strength, warmth, and overpowering masculinity. His arms ensnared me with an almost covetous demand. His lips controlled mine, nibbling and exploring, savoring my every murmured word whispered in delirious passion. I rolled my neck back, and he nipped at my tender skin as I silenced my protesting conscience.

  It might have berated me for becoming such a love-sick fool. But how could something this bad feel so good?

  Everything that had been right became wrong. We’d shattered our own rules. Threatened our own friendship. Freed our most private and vulnerable desires.

  And it no longer scared me.

  For so long, I’d hidden my feelings from Quint because I knew who he was, what he wanted, and what would come of a mistaken night spent in his arms. But deep within me, in those hot, uncertain, desperate secrets, I knew only he could lead me through those unforgiving moments of beautiful agony.

  Did it matter if I had him only for tonight?

  His lips traced mine as he sensed my trembling words.

  “Take off my clothes…” My single whisper changed everything.

  Quint clutched me tight, almost painfully. The lightning flashed, and his eyes pierced me, illuminated by only the briefest crash of a rebelling sky.

  He trusted me. Trusted what I wanted. Trusted that I’d asked with the honesty and confidence summoned by a girl twisting on the edge of pleasure’s knife.

  I stilled as his hands tickled my waist. His fingers brushed under the soft hem of the t-shirt. I held my breath as he tugged it from my body. I wore no bra. Nothing underneath. The wind-whipped rain prickled me from the window, but I welcomed the fierce chill.

  Nothing else could ease the unrelenting heat pummeling me from within.

  The darkness hid me from all but his touch. His hands claimed my skin, trailing over my silken flesh to my waist once more. He’d had me in my panties before, but not like this. Not so deliberately. Not so intensely.

  His breathing rasped, the only sound that punctured the silence before the rumble of thunder. My panties curled down, down, down. Over my thighs. Around my knees. To my feet.

  I lifted one foot, amazed by his patience as I nervously unthreaded the material from over my toes. Then again, the hunter no longer needed to stalk his prey. I’d delivered myself willingly into his maw.

  He returned to me—taking no more than what I’d commanded. Lightning crashed, but he wouldn’t need the brightness to explore me.

  I was his.

  My next order tumbled from my parted lips. “Touch me.”

  And he did.

  He traced my curves with a curious hand, surveying every softness with a reverence that caressed my offered secrets. I stood still, chin high, searching the silence for his commanding kiss. His mouth met mine just as his fingertips brushed my breasts.

  I nearly flinched. How sensitive. My nipples budded as his rough hands crested over the gentle swell. I had little more to offer than a handful for his attention, but the catch in his words was every encouragement, compliment, and prayer that I’d remember for the rest of my life.

  “Beautiful.”

  I pressed myself harder into his calloused hands, welcoming the fierce grip of his earth-broken palm. When that wasn’t enough, he held me closer, pressing us skin-to-skin. Muscle crushed softness. Femininity tamed the raging beast. And my ebony kiss melded with his sun-toasted bronze.

  The heat built within me. Fumbling. Demanding.

  I tested my courage.

  “Taste me.”

  He smiled, and the gleeful trail of his lips eagerly heeded my wishes.

  Quint teased downward, taking a long and complicated route to the place where I needed him the most. He teased my neck and collarbone. Traced the curve of my shoulder. Stretched out my arm and fluttered the length to my fingertips. I cradled his head between my hands as he drifted ever closer. The rough stubble on his cheek and chin scraped the delicate swell of my breasts.

  He plucked my nipple from the darkness and popped the nub into his mouth.

  Shivers erupted over my spine, but the delightful shudder became a frustrating spasm of quick and fierce longing. He suckled, nearly pulling all of me between his teeth. Harder. Slower. Faster. Softer. He tempted me to cry out with the promise of his bite and banished every shocked whimper with a swipe of his tongue over that hardened pebble.

  These weren’t feelings I could create on my own. My fingers had never delighted me in such a way, and those undulating shivers had never cascaded from my head to my feet then back to that special place awaiting his ultimate touch.

  Quint loved every surprised sigh and mew that escaped from me. He sucked and tasted, squeezed and massaged. The noises I made should have humiliated me. Instead, they encouraged him. Roughened his touch and quickened his pace between my breasts.

  His excitement was all the courage I needed. My newfound confidence tickled and teased, following the same path of pleasure Quint had forged over my body.

  I licked my lips. Steadied myself with a breath.

  And I spoke my most demanding command yet.

  “Take off your clothes,” I said.

  This was a step further than I thought I’d ever go, and, for some reason, it meant more for me to ask him to reveal himself than it had when he’d first seen my bare skin. I stood nude before him, protected by shadow and exposed for only brief moments by the lightning, but we had only played a simple game.

  This command made it real.

  His hand stilled over his belt buckle, and the muscles in his chest and biceps strained as the storm raged and crashed around us. It was like the man grew bigger every day. His shoulders had broadened. His muscles tightened from his long hours on the farm. He was built for work, designed for pleasure, and the part of him hidden behind the zipper of his jeans had been created just for me.

  He kicked his pants away. The hardened muscles hadn’t stopped at his chest. In the hint of light, the V between his hips funneled my vision low. No boxers. That didn’t surprise me, especially when dealing with Quint and his proclivities. Hard enough to imagine any denim containi
ng that monster, let alone the straining silk of boxers or briefs.

  I didn’t need to see him to know that he was hard, but the fine detail was lost to the shadows. He stepped close, and I savored the heat cast from that massive beast between his legs.

  No backing down now.

  No second thoughts.

  No fearful regrets.

  I reached for him but stopped before my fingers grazed that hardness.

  “Impressive…” I whispered.

  “Figured you’d like it.”

  “I want to touch it.”

  Quint had every reason to be cocky. “Like I’m gonna say no.”

  He had before. And maybe he would have done it again. I didn’t know what the hell we were doing, and every step forward into that abyss jeopardized everything.

  Instinct screamed for me to touch him, to feel that heat and connection, and to savor every moment I’d been graced to experience with him.

  I was as much a slave to my desires as I was terrified I’d slam back into reality and end this mistake before I made it.

  I fumbled through those few inches separating us and took hold of him with trembling fingers.

  His satisfied grunt was all the encouragement I needed.

  His length was impossibly thick and dangerously hot. But he’d surprised me. The skin wrapped over that throbbing hardness moved like velvet in my palm. The smoothness belied the fierceness beneath. Our bodies pressed close, and I searched for his lips, kissing a path from his chest to his neck and along his cheek. His jaw tensed, and even my tender affections couldn’t chase away the frustration.

  If he hadn’t hissed in gratitude, I would’ve feared he didn’t like my touch.

  He fought with himself, but the jumping, pulsing length clutched in my hand revealed the truth. I knew I was petite, but I’d never felt so small as when I held that weight in my palm. I squeezed my fingers around his shaft. They couldn’t touch.

  What was I getting myself into?

  More importantly, could he even get himself into me?

  I shifted onto the balls of my feet, and Quint must've read my mind.

  His words rasped from his strained throat. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Ladybug.”

  I hated how little faith he had in my sense of adventure. “Are we still doing this my way?”

  “You keep that up, and I’ll do whatever the fuck you ask.”

  I didn’t hesitate. “Then I want to take my turn.”

  I lowered myself to my knees, and Quint’s quiet panic delighted me. He swore. Stiffened. His hands tucked behind his back then his head. It was never fair asking this man to stand still, but we both went absolutely motionless as I positioned myself before him, my lips mere inches from his cock.

  I had no idea what to do, and I’d never, ever attempted anything like this before. The times I’d imagined it seemed so ridiculous now. Quint was nothing like the cartoonish fantasy I’d envisioned. This man was thick. Hot. Utterly responsive to every nudge of my fingers or puff of my breath.

  I opened my mouth and guided him towards my lips.

  His grateful, satisfied groan rang like music. He tensed. Flexed. Whispered my name with a hoarse, wild intent.

  This was nothing like the one-sided chore my sisters warned in gossip and dreaded before heading out on the town.

  My attention, my entire being, focused on delighting him and repaying him and simply pleasuring him with every ounce of my ability. He’d delivered me to such an amazing crescendo of emotion and sensation in the barn, but now was my first and best opportunity to reveal how much those precious moments had meant to me.

  I swirled my tongue over him. Savored his taste. Earned the frustrated bump of his hips.

  How had I ever thought an act like this could be dirty? This wasn’t awful or degrading. It was…

  Thrilling.

  I earned every groan and muffled profanity that escaped from his clenched jaw. My lips tickled his shaft as I pressed soft kisses over the entire length. He twitched. Hardened even more than I thought possible. For the first time tonight, I prayed that the electricity would return, and I’d have a chance to witness his excitement in more than brief flickers and flashes of violent lightning.

  I’d never realized the greatest gift in this world was offering myself to the one who deserved me the most. Never thought such an action could be anything more than selfish need or titillating fetish. I sunk upon him, moving faster and sucking harder, doing anything I could to prove that I’d made my choice and was ready to take that final step into shameless passion.

  But Quint stopped me. He gripped my shoulders and pulled me from his heavy cock as I offered one last sultry slurp of his length.

  “Jesus, Lady…” He held me tight, either fearing I’d run away or sink once more to my knees. “How the fuck are you doing that?”

  “I just…moved my tongue in a way that made you go ohh.”

  “Christ, you’re gonna suck the soul right out of me.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  His thumb pressed over my lips. “I gotta keep this mouth a secret. If the rest of the world knew how talented you are, I’d lose you forever.”

  “Not a chance.” I rested my palms flat on his chest. His heart raced even faster than mine. “If you want me, you can have me.”

  The thought twitched his cock against my hip, but he shook his head. “Not how this works, Ladybug. You gotta tell me what you want. It’s all up to you.”

  My mind flipped, flopped, and fizzled with every possibility. The butterflies had escaped my stomach only to flutter so hard in my chest they shook every part of me.

  What did I want?

  How badly did I need it?

  Would it be that dangerous to surrender to pure instinct?

  I took his hand and stumbled backwards in the darkness until I collided with the bed.

  That was my answer. My need. My only eternal desire.

  I wanted this man. I trusted this man. And I needed his touch over every part of my body.

  He lowered me onto the blankets, and a quick flash of lightning illuminated the sheer strength of his body as his muscles rolled and ripped to settle over me.

  My words hollowed. “Kiss me again?”

  The command wasn’t a retreat but a moment to regain my bravery and comprehend this new and thoroughly amazing blend of intimacy and heat. His body sunk over mine. Both bare. Both sweaty and trembling, aching with burning frustrations and un-savored pleasures. Our lips met, and resistance fell away. We no longer fought against ourselves or made excuses for how we felt or slaved to what was right, wrong, improper, or risky.

  All that mattered was the weight of his body pressing over mine.

  The hardpacked muscles of his chest.

  The dip and swell of his abs.

  The strength of his arms as they wrapped over me.

  And the hardness that pressed between my thighs.

  It wasn’t enough.

  I traced my fingers over his jaw, imagining his own mirrored desperation.

  The thunder nearly stole my words. “Tease me.”

  He released his breath with a wild profanity. “Fuck me. I thought you’d never ask.”

  Quint wasted no time, shifting both our bodies so that my legs fell open and his every attention settled in-between my thighs. I rested on the pillows, thumbnail bitten between my teeth, eyes straining through the dark to imagine what captivated him about the sight of my dark petals and swollen slit.

  His lips began too high—teasing my navel, drifting over my womb, and relaxing my shaking thigh muscles with eager kisses. He teased that heated and anxious secret that he’d thoroughly consumed only days before.

  But he didn’t make me beg. I’d already issued the command, and any hesitation was purely an invention of his own masochism. Quint gripped my hips, lowered himself between my legs, and seized upon me as if he had never tasted anything so sweet.

  One lick, and I feared the lightning h
ad finally struck me.

  Quint needed only a single glide of his tongue to own my body completely. He worshiped me. Tended to me. Delighted me with a quick and furious spin of his tongue that set my hair on end and breath on fire. With a conquering strike, he had the power to deliver me to the highest highs or the lowest of lows, and I’d be forever a prisoner of his generosity just to experience that spine-crushing euphoria that was his every attention.

  He fell upon me, feasted on me, and the only reason I hadn’t cried out and confessed my love for him then and there was because his expert touch stole my words and bound me in place with shiver after shiver.

  But he’d never believe the truth, even if he heard it in my moans, tasted it in my cream, or felt it with every beat of my heart.

  He’d refuse it. Deny it. Ignore his feelings from now until forever.

  Why was he so afraid of what I could give him?

  Quint’s growl rumbled against my wetness. His tongue explored and devoured, as if he loved the taste of me, loved how my legs tensed and shook, threatened to close then revealed my slit once more. His lips circled that sensitive little nub, suckling and teasing to earn my flustered sigh.

  He was good at what he did, and yet it didn’t feel as if it could be enough. He’d already pleasured me like this once, but that need hadn’t been entirely quelled. The fires extinguished, but the heat only built. For as amazing as that day had been, Quint had awakened a part of me I’d never known existed. A void, aching to be filled. That emptiness threatened my sanity, and I nearly begged him, pleaded with him, to release me from that engulfing torment in the way only he could deliver.

  I ached.

  Twisted.

  Cried out.

  The lightning flashed. His gaze met mine.

  And through parted lips, I whispered my final command.

  “Take me.”

  His feast gently ended—a few lone swipes of his tongue to watch me squirm. He rose to his knees, his hands yet gripping my waist. He pinned me down. Watched as I spread my legs around his body through pure instinct. His thick cock slapped over my belly. Heavy. Ready.

  “Is that what you really want?” he asked.