Forbidden Fruit

by Eden Bradley

  Gideon turned onto the Great Highway and followed the curving road, drove up Point Lobos Avenue, away from the ocean. She had no idea where they were going. It didn’t matter. He often liked to go for a drive, pulling over so he could fuck her in his car, or on it.

  “Karalee.”

  “Yes?”

  A shiver of anticipation at hearing her name on his lips, his voice deep, sexy.

  “Suck me.”

  She smiled, leaned over, and undid his dark slacks, pulled his gorgeous cock out. He was half hard already, and she’d barely touched him. She bent over, inhaled the musky scent of him, flicked her tongue at the swelling head.

  “No teasing. Just suck it. Hard.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He grabbed the back of her hair, digging his fingers into her scalp. “Just do it.”

  She swallowed him, the length of his flesh hardening even as it slipped between her lips. She loved the taste of him, loved the way he filled her, whether it was her mouth, her sex, her ass.

  She pulled him in deeper, untillhis cock hit the back of her throat. She took in a deep breath through her nose, silently commanded her throat to open up, then she really went to work on him. Moving her head, she slid her mouth up and down his shaft, squeezing the base of it with her fingers, using them along with her lips, her tongue, to vary the texture.

  And pleasure rose in her own body as he grew harder, as the muscles of his thighs tensed beneath her.

  “Fuck, Karalee,” Gideon muttered, pulling the car over to the curb, and she knew she had him. She melted a little all over.

  Yes, there was power in allowing him to take her over in this way, to command her. To bring a man like Gideon to his knees, even for a few moments, was as thrilling as letting him fuck her in public.

  “Just have to fuck you, Karalee. Just fuck your lovely mouth…and fuck you.” His fingers dug into her hair, held on. “Only you, Karalee.”

  Yes…

  She shivered, her sex pounding like the pulse of the ocean. And that sense of being entirely possessed by him made it even better. Knowing that he wanted her in this way.

  She needed to tell him. He was still thrusting hard into her mouth; she was still trembling with the desire coursing through her body, her sex. She pulled her lips from his cock long enough to whisper, “Gideon…I’m yours. Yours…”

  “Yes. Mine…ah, God. I’m going to come.”

  She took him into her mouth again, sucked him deep into her throat. He groaned, rammed into her, his hips pumping. His fingers moved down to grip her shoulder, his short nails digging in.

  Yours.

  She smiled to herself. Belonging felt better than she ever could have imagined.

  He let her go, pulled her up to face him, and kissed her, his mouth soft on hers. She loved his mouth when he was like this, all plush and loose from coming. There was almost a helplessness about him at these moments.

  Almost.

  His tongue slid between her lips, tangled with hers, and she could still taste the salt of his come heavy on her tongue. His hand went into her hair once more, pulled tight, making her gasp. Dragging her head back, he kissed her throat, small, gentle kisses. Ah yes, she loved this, this combination of brutality and tenderness. It made her want to sink to her knees, to promise this man anything.

  He pulled back, his eyes glittering in the dim streetlights.

  “Come with me, Karalee. Come back to my house.”

  Her heart stuttered in her chest.

  “Are you sure?”

  He was quiet a moment, looking at her. The sound of the ocean a few blocks away was a heavy throb in her ears. The scent of it was everywhere, tangy and sharp.

  “Yes. I’m sure.”

  She stroked his cheek, something she’d never have dared to do before. Not with him. But suddenly, everything had changed. Her stomach fluttered.

  Everything had changed.

  But she was ready for it. Finally.

  Not the usuallkind of romance, that was for sure. But the usuallromance would never have worked with her. No, she’d needed someone as powerfullas Gideon. Someone who was strong enough to take her over in the way he did. Sexually, yes, but there was more to it than that. Something more cerebral.

  More emotional.

  She reached down, threaded her fingers through his.

  “Let’s go.”

  It took only a few moments for Gideon to zip up, to pull back onto the road. He seemed intent on driving.

  And she didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to risk breaking this spell. She was afraid he might change his mind.

  She knew what this meant for him, taking her to his home. And as he turned up Fulton Street and drove along the edge of Golden Gate Park, her stomach began to knot up. Was she ready for this? A few moments ago she’d thought so. But now…

  She turned to look at him. His profile was so strong, even softened by the night. He glanced at her, smiled, reached over, and took her hand in his. And she knew everything would be okay.

  Settling into the leather seat, her hand warmed by his, she drove with him across town. Up Fulton and around the end of the park, then down Fell Street.

  They passed rows of Victorians, some in a state of disrepair, some restored to their originallbeauty.

  And she thought how these houses were like people.

  How sometimes you were sort of left in a state of neglect, even if it was your own doing. And all it took was the right person to come along, to breathe life back into you.

  Into her.

  Her heart was racing. But she wanted to do this, to be with him.

  Soon they were moving through the wide streets of the Potrero District, and Gideon made a right turn, downshifted as they climbed a hill. He pulled up in front of a three-story brown shingle.

  “This is it.”

  He turned to her, and his face was as somber as she’d ever seen it. She smiled at him even though her stomach was a tight ball of nerves, and after a moment his features relaxed and he smiled back.

  He helped her from the car, ever the gentleman, and led her up the narrow brick walkway. Tall banana plants flanked the front door, their big leaves dark and silky in the dim porch light. Gideon opened the door and led her inside.

  His home was almost exactly as she’d pictured it.

  The room was all tall windows with wooden shutters pulled back to let in the view of the city and the San Francisco Bay below, the lights of the Bay Bridge twinkling through the fog. Dark wood floors, with a few woven rugs in rich neutralltones, bookcases flanking the fireplace. A large brown leather sofa dominated the space, and a red leather chair sat beside the hearth. But what really surprised her was the art on the walls. Bold colors and shapes, paintings she recognized with breathless awe.

  She moved to one piece, put her fingers out to touch it, then pulled back.

  “This is a Miró,” she breathed.

  “Yes.”

  “And that one; it looks like Kandinsky.”

  Gideon nodded.

  “My God, Gideon, do you know what these pieces are worth? How difficult they are to acquire? Of course you do, stupid question. I didn’t know you collect.”

  “I didn’t used to. I bought the Miró very recently.”

  “They’re beautiful. Stark.” She shook her head, trying to absorb this new bit of information about him. “I didn’t expect this of you.”

  He moved closer, wrapped an arm around her waist.

  “Why? Because I have such depraved sexualltastes?”

  His hand crept up and cupped her breast, squeezed and kneaded. Her nipples came up hard beneath his probing fingers.

  “Ah, Gideon, you know just how to shut me up.”

  He leaned in and nuzzled her neck, bit into the tender flesh there. “On the contrary. I plan to make you scream, Karalee.”

  She laughed, the tension in her body melting away in the heat of his touch, his mouth on her skin.

  He brought his lips to hers and kissed her hard, hi
s tongue driving into her mouth. Then it was all wet, breathless heat, the need for him building untillit hurt.

  She pressed her body closer, felt the solid ridge of his arousallagainst her belly. His thigh slid between hers, and she ground her mound into him, needing relief.

  His hands were everywhere: slipping beneath her shirt, tugging her skirt down over her thighs. She was soaking wet.

  She pulled her mouth away. They were both panting.

  She whispered, “I need you to fuck me, Gideon.”

  “I intend to.” His voice was a deep growl, heavy with lust.

  He paused long enough to pull his slacks off, his shirt, then hers, leaving her in her lacy bra. His hands on her again, he backed her up untillshe felt the edge of the leather sofa behind her, and he tipped her back onto the pillows, going down with her, his body covering hers. Her legs wrapped around his strong back, her fingernails scratching into his skin.

  He groaned, pressing his cock against her aching sex.

  “You are so damn wet, Karalee.”

  “I need you.” She arched her hips, grinding her pelvis into him. “Take me to your bed, Gideon. I want you to fuck me in your bed.”

  His hands went lax on her as the rest of his body tensed. He sat up abruptly.

  “Gideon? What…?”

  He sat on the edge of the sofa, rubbed his hands over his face, his hair. He said in a low, hard voice, “Christ, Karalee.”

  “What is it?” But she knew. Her heart was hammering so hard she could almost hear it.

  He was quiet for a long time. Too long. And she felt too naked, sitting on the sofa in nothing but her bra, the leather warming beneath her bare thighs. She almost wanted to cover herself, naked and vulnerable in a way she’d never felt before.

  Why didn’t he say something?

  Finally he said quietly, “I can’t do this, Karalee.”

  That was it. No apology. No explanation. Just one simple statement, spoken through clenched teeth, that made her heart twist up in her chest.

  “Look, I need to take you home.”

  He stood up and dressed, keeping his back to her.

  Her head felt hot and tight; her entire body felt tight, as though each muscle were tensed and pulled to the breaking point.

  Breaking. Yes, that was it exactly. She was breaking.

  It didn’t occur to her to cry. That was something she simply never did. Not as she quietly got dressed, not when he gestured her out the door, refusing to look at her. She could not believe this was happening.

  On the front step she turned to him and said, “Gideon? Can’t we talk? Just sit and talk about…

  this. About what’s happening here.”

  He shook his head. His face was absolutely shut down. Dark, a storm brewing behind the flatness in his eyes.

  She took in a sighing breath, stood watching him for a few moments, waiting for that shift in his features that would tell her everything was okay again. But she knew it wasn’t going to happen.

  “Maybe I should call a cab?” she suggested.

  “Don’t be silly. I’ll take you home.”

  Painful, how cold his voice was.

  She nodded, followed him to his car. He opened her door, moved to help her in, but she turned away from his arm. She couldn’t stand it if he touched her right now.

  The ride to her place seemed to go on forever. The city was dark around them, too quiet. There was nothing to get her out of her own head. And inside it was an unbearable pressure, as though a vise were bearing down on her, crushing her skull bit by bit.

  She didn’t quite understand what was happening to her; the sensation was so physical.

  By the time they reached her neighborhood she had a pounding headache. Her whole head was hot, burning. And that tight feeling would not go away. It had spread down to her chest, like a thickness clogging her lungs, her throat. She imagined it like black tar, choking her.

  Gideon pulled up in front of her house, not even into her driveway. He came around and held the door for her. Again she avoided his hand, using the car door for leverage. Once on her feet, she realized how weak her legs were, took a few deep breaths to steady herself. It didn’t help.

  Gideon slammed the door closed, and without another word, another look, he got back into the driver’s seat, started the engine, and drove off, leaving her standing on the curb.

  A wind came up, whipping the edges of her coat, her hair. She watched his taillights disappearing down the street. Kept staring even after she could no longer see his car. And it was only then the tightness expanded and broke apart.

  One long sob welled up, choking her as it poured out. Horrified, she clamped a hand over her mouth, but it was too late.

  Too late!

  Oh, God.

  She clutched her purse to her chest, trying to make herself stop, but another sob came, this one harder, a long, keening cry.

  She buried her face in her hands, barely able to stay on her feet.

  How had this happened? To her, of all people!

  She shook her head, unbelieving still, even as pain wracked her body. Her heart.

  Finally she was able to tear herself away, to stumble to her front door, to find her keys and go inside. She got as far as shutting the door behind her before her legs gave way and she crumpled in a heap on the floor, the door at her back the only thing in the entire world that felt solid.

  chapter fifteen

  JAGGER PULLED MIA INTO HIS APARTMENT, ONE ARM AROUND her slim waist. Getting through class tonight had been agony. Hell, it had been painfullletting her out of his bed that morning so she could go to work. He’d known Monday was coming; he hadn’t had any way of knowing how difficult it was going to be to let her go after their weekend together. After she’d finally opened herself to him.

  He’d been thinking about her all day. Preparing for this evening. He had no idea what he would have done if she’d turned down his invitation. But he didn’t need to worry about that now. She was here.

  He closed the door, backed her up against it, his hands on her hips.

  “Hey, beautiful.”

  “Hey.”

  She smiled, that devastating smile. So natural, something so pure about it. She wasn’t the type of woman to smile unless she really meant it. No artifice with her.

  He pushed up against her, just to feellthe soft curves of her body against his. He was getting hard already, being this close to her, her scent as soft as her flesh.

  He leaned in and brushed a kiss across her mouth, those succulent red lips. Felt her go loose all over.

  Yeah.

  “I have something speciallplanned for you,” he told her.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s a surprise. Why don’t you go take a long, hot shower while I get everything ready?” He stepped back, gently propelled her toward the bathroom.

  She grabbed his hand, tugged on it. “You’re not coming with me? Come on, Jagger.”

  Oh, that sultry, pleading tone. Almost too much to resist. “Not now. I’ll come in and get you when I’m ready.”

  “Mysterious tonight, aren’t we?”

  He lifted her hand, kissed it. “Don’t worry, you’ll like what I have in mind. Don’t come out untillI come and get you.”

  She shrugged, her breasts rising beneath the fabric of her pristine white cotton blouse. “Okay.”

  She turned and moved toward the bathroom. He stayed where he was for a moment, untillhe was sure she’d gone in and shut the door behind her.

  Then he went to the kitchen.

  He pulled platters from the refrigerator he’d prepared earlier in the day, jars from the cupboard, and carried severallloads into the dining area.

  There, he set everything down on the big table, and went around the room, lighting the dozens of candles he’d arranged that afternoon.

  He could barely stand to think of her naked in the shower, the water sluicing over her pale skin. He could go in there right now, strip down, and get in the shower w
ith her, both of them wet and slippery. He could picture how her skin looked, with the water spilling in glistening drops over her breasts, her stomach. How it clung to that narrow path of dark hair between her thighs. The steam all around them as he went down on her, tasting her…

  Lord.

  He had to get hold of himself. There would be time enough for that later. For that, and more. Right now he had to focus on his task. Tonight was for her.

  Turning the lights down low, he prepared his scenario for the evening. He wanted to do this for her. Wanted to do everything for her.

  Some small, mean voice in the back of his mind told him it wouldn’t work on her. Not in the long run. She was too afraid, still too closed up. And he was wearing his heart on his sleeve like some high schoollkid crazy over a girllfor the first time.

  It fucking felt like the first time.

  But he couldn’t stay away from Mia Rose. Couldn’t stand not to touch her, to be with her. And the way he felt about her…he had to hope the feelings that had been growing, expanding every day, meant that he could do this. That she could do this. That he could show her how.

  Not now, not now.

  No, now he needed to be in the moment, to savor what was about to happen.

  A thrill ran up his spine as he began to arrange the food on the table. Oh yeah, she was going to love this. She’d go right out of her head. And he would love it, too. Love watching her pleasure. He’d always been aware of a woman’s pleasure, but never more so than with her. It was almost all that mattered to him lately.

  He stopped what he was doing, glanced toward the bathroom, heard the muted sound of the shower running. Yeah, he had it bad.

  He loved the girl.

  He loved the girl.

  It was a physicallsensation, loving her. Like a warm wave, washing over his body, only it came from the inside. And suddenly, he knew he had to tell her.

  Maybe not at this moment. Maybe not tonight. But soon.

  He went to the sideboard and poured himself a glass of Cabernet, took a sip. He had no idea how she would take it. She wasn’t the usuallwoman. Not the kind to let herself really fall for a guy. He understood that. But he knew she felt something for him. How far those feelings went remained to be seen. He could be patient. Mia Rose Curry was a woman worth waiting for. She was worth everything, anything.