Forbidden Fruit

by Eden Bradley

  “Jagger, I need to feellyou. I can’t wait.”

  “Ah, Mia Rose.”

  He picked her up and carried her to his big bed, laid her down a little roughly. He moved around the bed, and she turned to watch him pull a condom from the nightstand drawer, watched as he stepped out of his briefs. Then he stood for a moment beside the bed, looking down at her, and she saw him fully for the first time.

  His cock was so beautiful, it almost hurt to look at it.

  Large and swollen, she swore she could see it pulsing. And it was covered in the most beautifullbrown skin. Her sex throbbed simply looking at it.

  “Mia Rose, wait here.”

  “What? Jagger?”

  But he was moving through the half-dark apartment toward the kitchen. Muted light shone in through the tall windows, casting red and gold shadows across the floor, but it was too dark at the kitchen end to see what he was doing. She didn’t really care. She simply needed him to come back. Now.

  When he did he held an open bottle of red wine in his hand. She pushed herself up on her elbows.

  “Jagger, I don’t want to drink any more. I just want you.”

  He said, “You’re not going to drink it. I am.”

  He placed one knee on the edge of the bed, held the bottle over her. And she realized suddenly what he was about to do.

  Her sex squeezed and her mind went absolutely blank for severallmoments. All she knew was the keen edge of anticipation, of the realization of her deepest desires.

  And then he tipped the bottle, and a few drops of the wine flowed over her breasts. She moaned, almost wanted to cry. He bent over her, and she let her head fall back as he began to lick the wine from her skin.

  His tongue was so hot and smooth. The scent of the wine was dizzying. The combination was devastating.

  She could not believe this was happening. And somewhere in the back of her mind was that memory of Ben, the sweet scent of the whipped cream, the flavor of it on his tongue when he kissed her after licking it off her body.

  But this was Jagger she was here with now.

  He poured again, and the slide of the liquid over her skin sent tremors of desire deep into her body, arrowing into her sex, as though his wet mouth were there once more. Her hips tilted, her sex clenching tight, her fingers gripping the bedcovers.

  “Ah, Jagger.”

  He was sucking on her skin now, on the full flesh of her breasts, working the wine into her skin with his tongue. And all she could do was writhe beneath him.

  He poured once more, this time down the length of her stomach, and followed with his lips, his tongue.

  She was shivering, needing to come again. She couldn’t hold still, couldn’t stop moaning. She didn’t care.

  He lifted his head. “I didn’t think you could taste any better, Mia Rose. But you do.”

  This time he poured the wine directly into the folds of her sex.

  “Oh! Please, please…God…”

  She was coming even before he touched her, just the sensation of the wine, the awareness of this exquisite fulfillment of her fantasies. His tongue dove in, plunged into her, his mouth sucking and hot, driving her climax on.

  “Jagger, Jagger, Jagger…” Pleasure shafted through her, overwhelmed her. Her mind was spinning, her body reeling.

  Jagger raised his head, using his hand to gently massage her clit, the lips of her sex. Small ripples still coursed through her.

  “Jesus, Mia Rose. You’re shaking. You came so hard. I’ve never seen anything like it.” He paused. “I want to make you come like that again.”

  She was still coming, tiny waves undulating through her body. She couldn’t seem to stop.

  When she glanced up at him, she caught his smile, his hooded, silvered eyes as he slipped a condom over his rock-hard cock. She reached out for him and he came to her, laid his body over hers. He felt so good, all lean, toned muscles and the hard ridge of his erection sliding down over her stomach and coming to rest between her thighs and, finally, at her wet opening.

  She spread her thighs wider, wrapping her legs around his waist. But he took her legs in his strong hands, spread them as wide as they could go. “Hold them there for me, Mia Rose,” he told her. She did it, feeling utterly open to him. Wanton. A little dirty.

  Propped on his elbows, he kept his eyes on hers as he slipped just the tip of his cock inside her.

  “Oh…”

  Pleasure moved through her, a quiet wave. And she could still smell the sweet, acrid scent of the wine, could still feellthat lovely stickiness on her skin. But she wanted more.

  She slid her hands over his muscled buttocks and pulled him deeper.

  “Yeah…” His voice was husky, breathless. “You feellso good inside, baby.”

  His hands went to her breasts, his fingers taking her nipples and pinching and tugging on them. Oh, so good, desire flooding her body, her sex, her breasts.

  She arched into his hands. And then he pressed his hips into her, his cock sliding deeper.

  “Jesus, Mia Rose. I don’t want this to be over so soon. But you feel…ah…amazing.”

  Pleasure shafted into Jagger like a sweet-edged knife, like every titillating sensation he’d ever felt in his life. He was shivering, trying to hold his climax back. And she was so damn soft and hot under him.

  Her writhing, her panting breath, were making him crazy.

  He pushed in, moving deeper. And she let out a long sigh, her legs trembling. His cock throbbed.

  He pulled in a deep breath, held perfectly still for a moment while he regained some sense of control.

  Then he slid his hands under her buttocks, lifted her up untillhe was kneeling upright on the bed, with her laid out before him. Her lovely body open, her thighs still spread so wide he could see the nub of her hard little clit, pink and swollen and so damn succulent he wanted to take it in his mouth again. But there would be time for that later.

  He pulled her in closer, buried his cock in her damp heat.

  “Ah, Jagger. So good, just like this.”

  He loved that he could watch her: her red mouth, the flush on her cheeks, on her breasts. Lord, her breasts, like two perfect globes of pale flesh. And her nipples dark red, as succulent as her tempting little clit.

  He slid his hand over her taut stomach, downward untillhe found that swollen nub of flesh, pressed onto it, smiled when she caught her breath in a gasp.

  Then he pumped into her, harder and harder.

  Pleasure moved through him: his cock, his entire body. It took everything he had to hold back. But he knew she was going to come again, into his hand, onto his cock.

  Jesus.

  He was shivering, his cock really about to explode, when her pussy clenched around him in a long, hard spasm. And his climax ripped through him, burning, blinding.

  Even through his own orgasm, he watched her come as he plunged into her, her fingers digging into the bedcovers. And the hot clench of her around his cock, gripping him, milking him, was driving him on, emptying him.

  “Jesus, Mia Rose.”

  They were both panting hard. And even though his climax had faded, small bursts of pleasure stillsurged through him, as though he’d come with his whole body.

  She was so fucking beautiful.

  Mia was watching him, her eyes glowing green even in the dim moonlight coming through the windows as he slid his hands over her. Her skin was as smooth as silk, pale and fine. He couldn’t stop looking at her, didn’t want to stop touching her.

  Ever.

  Where the helllhad that come from?

  He was not going there again.

  She felt good, that was all. She felt fucking amazing.

  And after all her resistance, she was totally open in bed. Wild. And Lord, the way she responded when he’d poured the wine on her! He could watch her come all night, loved the way she just fell apart.

  Her dark hair was everywhere, splayed out on the bed, a few strands across her face. He reached out and brushed it away.
She blinked a few times but didn’t move.

  When he began to pull out of her, she grabbed his wrist.

  “Don’t. Not yet.”

  He nodded, leaned over her, kissed her lips. They were soft and swollen. He kissed her again. If only his tired cock would cooperate, he’d fuck her again.

  Later. Right now it was good enough that she was here, that he could touch her, kiss her. Such a romantic idea. He decided not to think about that.

  Instead he shifted, laid his body over hers, kissed the sweet skin of her throat, her jaw.

  Yeah, too romantic. Just think about fucking her again in a little while.

  His cock gave a small throb.

  “Gotta pull out, babe,” he told her, then did just that, rolled over, got up, and went into the bathroom to pullthe condom off. He stared at himself for a moment in the mirror.

  “Don’t be a fucking idiot,” he told his frowning reflection before heading back to the bed.

  She was sitting up, still looking a little dazed.

  “Have you seen my clothes, Jagger?”

  “You’re not going anywhere.”

  He pushed her down onto the pillows, and she smiled at him.

  “I’m not?”

  “Give me about three minutes to recover and I’llshow you why.”

  She reached down and wrapped her fingers around his already hardening cock. “I don’t think you have to explain.”

  Lord, this woman! He couldn’t wait to get inside her again. So damn good, everything about her. The sex, her beautifullbody, her face. Everything.

  Yeah, everything. But he didn’t want to think about it all right now. Not the way his pulse hammered just looking at her. Just talking to her. No, right now all he had to know was that he would fuck her again. Again and again, as many times as his body would let him.

  There would be plenty of time to deallwith these other ideas later, when he was too tired to do anything else. When she had gone and he wouldn’t be as likely to say something stupid to her.

  He didn’t want her to leave.

  Don’t think about it now. Just touch her. Make her come again. Yeah.

  For tonight, he could foollhimself into thinking that was all that mattered, even if beneath all that he knew it was bullshit. There was a lot more to it than the sex. He was that kind of guy, even if Mia Rose wasn’t that kind of woman.

  But for now, she was right there, under his hands, her sweet thighs already spreading for him. He bent his head and buried his face in her body, lost himself there. It was morning before he thought about anything else.

  Karalee unlocked the door to her house and Gideon wrapped his hands around her waist, pushing her inside, kicking the door shut behind him. She swore she could still smell the scents of motor oilland exhaust from their session in the parking structure earlier, could practically feellit all over her skin. It was even more apparent now, in the confines of her smallhouse. Something incredibly sexy about that smell.

  “Bedroom,” he demanded.

  Karalee smiled to herself as she took his hand and led him to her room. The man was insatiable. Lucky for her.

  He was already pulling her clothes off, untillshe was completely naked, small, soft piles scattered across the dark blue and gold Persian rug on the floor.

  “You’re fucking beautiful, Karalee,” he told her, his voice low, predatory in that way he had when he was about to do something dirty. “On the bed.”

  She sat down and started to slide toward the middle of the mattress, but he grabbed her and pulled her to the edge, pushing her onto her back with one hand between her breasts.

  “Here. Right here.” Then he spread her thighs roughly, went down on his knees, and buried his face between her legs.

  He went to work right away, his tongue sweeping over her already hard clit, then sliding down her damp slit, pushing inside her. He was kneading the flesh of her hips, his hands hard and bruising. And she was panting, breathless, shivering with desire.

  “Jesus, Gideon.”

  He slipped one hand between her thighs and pushed his fingers inside her while he sucked hard on that swollen nub of flesh. Harder, rougher. In moments she was writhing, bucking, whimpering. He reached up with his other hand to twist one of her nipples. Sensation shot through her, from her breast to her sex, settling in the center of her body. Like fire, like liquid heat, blistering hot.

  His hands, his mouth, were relentless, hurting her, driving her on. Pleasure crested, paused for one electric moment. And then she was plunging over that edge, coming, crying his name, crying in pain.

  But she loved every single moment. Every single sensation.

  Before she had a chance to catch her breath, Gideon stood, unzipped his fly. He pulled a condom from the pocket of his jacket—he was still wearing his jacket!—and sheathed himself. She tried to sit up, but he pushed her back, wrenched her thighs apart even wider, and shoved his cock right into her.

  Another shock of pleasure, nearly as powerfullas her climax, ripped through her. He began to pump. Over and over, hard, driving thrusts. His hands were rough on her breasts, pinching and twisting her nipples, sending shocks of sensation through her system. But he was going too hard and fast for her to do more than lie helpless beneath him, lost in pleasure, in pain that was pleasure.

  “Christ, Karalee.”

  “Yes, Gideon. Harder!”

  “Fuck, yes…”

  His hips plunging, fucking her, fucking her, and she was coming again, coming apart beneath the fury of his driving hips, his pummeling cock.

  She was half out of her head. She didn’t care. This was all she needed from him. All she’d ever needed.

  You know damn welllit’s a helllof a lot more.

  She pushed the idea away. Easy enough with him stiffening, shuddering, ramming into her as he came.

  Then his weight on top of her, the zipper of his jacket biting into her naked flesh. And the sweet relief, the serene knowledge that this man had taken her over completely.

  This was what she needed. The thrill of being caught was obviously what drove Gideon. For her, it was allabout allowing this man to take her over.

  This man, who was the first one strong enough to do it.

  Jagger woke to the sounds of traffic moving in the streets below, alone in his bed. He felt…empty.

  Something he’d never wanted to feellagain.

  He sat up, scrubbed a hand over the stubble on his chin. Jesus, he could still smell her on his hands. Allover the bed.

  Why had she left without saying anything? What the hell did that mean? And why was he being such a girllabout it, anyway?

  He was fucking losing it.

  He threw back the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed, went into the kitchen to get coffee going. The day stretched ahead, as empty as his bed was this morning.

  This was ridiculous. He needed to get out of the apartment, distract himself. He put the coffee filters back in the cupboard. It was still early. He’d head down to the farmers’ market, look at the produce, and buy his coffee there, pick up some mangoes for Leilani to make up for his flaky behavior lately.

  Maybe he’d get some flowers. Red roses for Mia Rose. Yeah. They’d look great against her pale skin.

  Jesus. Flowers.

  Flowers were for a relationship. Flowers were when a woman meant something to him.

  He ran a hand over his hair, dug his fingers in, and gripped untillit hurt. So, Mia Rose meant something to him. So what? That didn’t mean he needed to get his heart stomped on again. He wasn’t going in blind. He understood this woman was not relationship material, that she didn’t want to be. He could handle it.

  Shaking his head, he moved across the apartment to the bathroom. Maybe a long, hot shower would get his head back on straight. A cold shower would probably be more effective. He had to do something.

  Because he really was losing it over Mia Rose.

  How the hell had this happened? And more important, what was he going to do about
it?

  He stood in front of the bathroom mirror, as he had the night before. He looked like the same person, if a little scruffier, a little bruised around the eyes from lack of sleep.

  He should never see her again. It’d be the best thing for him. He had spent over a year learning to be the kind of guy who could shut his feelings off. He’d learned to protect himself. And who the hell did he think he was, anyway, getting Mia Rose to open herself up to him, when he wasn’t willing to do the same in return? Not on that deep level, where it really mattered. He was not that sensitive guy anymore, the guy who could get hurt.

  No, he should never see her again. But he knew damn well he wasn’t going to do that. Because being with this woman, watching her change, watching her blossom, had changed him in some elementallway.

  After being with Mia Rose, he wasn’t the same person at all. He might never be again. And the scary part was, he wasn’t sure it mattered anymore.

  chapter eight

  MIA PACED HER KITCHEN, HER ARMS

  WRAPPED AROUND HER body as though she could protect herself from the emotions pouring through her.

  This was all wrong. Last night should never have happened. Bad enough that Jagger was her student, that she’d jeopardized her career. She’d also jeopardized her emotionallwell-being. She’d known it going in, known that what Jagger made her feellwas more than a simple case of lust. But she’d done it anyway.

  She was a fool.

  The question was, what would she do now? Now that her body knew his. Now that his scent was so firmly ingrained in her mind she could never forget it, that blend of clean soap and dark patchouli. Him.

  She paused in her pacing to put the kettle on the stove for tea, pulled a mug and a tea bag from the cupboard. A longstanding source of comfort she’d picked up from her grandmother. Grandma had always thought almost any trouble could be soothed away with a good cup of tea. But Mia knew she was in deep trouble this time. Her situation with Jagger was going to require a lot more than tea.

  Standing in front of the window, she looked at her little garden, at the dew clinging to the few remaining rose petals, gleaming drops reflecting shades of pink, yellow, red. The rest of the garden was lush green, except for the sky, which was as heavy and gray as she felt inside.