by L. B. Dunbar
To my beta readers this round: Christie Preer Mitchum, Elle Ramsey, Ella Stewart, Karen Fischer, Patti Correa, Becca Dawn, and Annie Gabor, thank you for your additional edits and content comments. I’m always trying to be better as a writer and a storyteller, so your help is greatly appreciated.
To those who follow The Nights (those lovable band members) and those in Novel Love Notes, I love you all hard. For the Dunbar Dreamers who continue to stick around for me, thank you for following this dream with me.
I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention years of Catholic education, where The Bible was taught, and became an excellent background for this story. If you know me, you know I love to take a tale and twist it in a modern direction. On that note, Can’t Buy Me Love (1987), the movie, was a huge inspiration as well.
Always last, but never ever least, to my family: Alpha leader and the four betas. They’re getting kind of used to this author thing, so I love them extra hard for that.
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Sensations Collection
Sound Advice; Taste Test; Fragrance Free; Touch Screen; Sight Words
Legendary Rock Stars Series
The Legend of Arturo King; The Story of Lansing Lotte; The Quest of Perkins Vale; The Truth of Tristan Lyons; The Trials of Guinevere DeGrance
Mouth: A Steamy Anthology
“Paradise Tempted” – prequel to the Paradise Stories
Paradise Stories
Paradise Fought: Abel
Paradise Found: Cain (coming June 2016)
Want to know what’s the deal with
Cain and Sofie?
Read Chapter 1 of Paradise Found: Cain
Cain –
The sound of her heels retreating from me echoed down the hallway in the opposite direction of the gathered crowd. I was still dressed for the fight. I’d rubbed a towel down my body as I didn’t care to change, or shower yet. I needed to get to her before she escaped me again. Following behind the click of her heels, I called her name a second time, commanding her to stop. She didn’t listen. For the slightest second it sounded like the speed of her heels tapping on the tile increased and I increased my pace, determined to catch her.
“Sofie,” I called out. The tension built. She was going to run. My hand reached out for her as I grew closer. My stride lengthened. Her tight skirt curved over her hips, holding her snug ass, and trapping her steps. High heels prevented her from moving any faster despite her determined hustle. This wasn’t how I remembered her dressing. She wore lose skirts and fitted t-shirts, except on the second night. An image of a black dress being removed from delicate shoulders flitted through my memory. My eyes fell to her ass again. I knew what was under that shapely skirt. I’d seen it, felt it, tasted it, and I wanted it again.
“Sofie,” I demanded. Her name was more than a plea; it was a command to stop. We were headed in a circle. The sound of the gathered crowd was echoing back toward us. She was trapped. If she kept going she’d lead us directly into the paparazzi pit. Cameras would capture her and I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to explain who she was to the public. Not yet. I needed a private reunion first.
Her pace slowed. My outstretched fingers captured her upper arm and tugged her to a halt. Her body was gently slammed against the cement block wall behind her and my arms caged her in.
“Sofie.” My breath caught as I scanned her face. Bright blue eyes under a pinched brow looked briefly at me then averted my gaze. Her face was flushed. I remembered that pink skin. Another vision flashed in my memory of her questioning me over a wooden bar. She was interested in my anatomy at that moment. I wanted her to be interested in my anatomy again. A certain part of me definitely had her attention if she wished for it. I wasn’t only hard. I was towering straight out for her. My dick knew what it wanted. It was drawn to the lyrical whispers of what I assumed would be wet folds beneath black panties.
Another vision flashed through my mind. This included striping her of black lingerie: simple, satin, and molded to the shape of her. I’d never seen anything so tempting, until she was removed of it. White skin, pink nipples, and a dark mound pointing to a treasure were the most beautiful colors I’d ever seen, next to her eyes, which were glaring at me as I assessed her face.
“Cain,” she said sharply. Her head lifted, holding it high; she was pissed. There was no other way to describe her expression. She hated me. I couldn’t exactly blame her, but it wasn’t the reunion I anticipated. It wasn’t the reunion I expected. It wasn’t the reunion I was going to accept.
“My Sweet Temptation,” I hissed to her. My tongue licked my lips, eager to taste hers. She swallowed and my eyes widened at the smooth roll of her skin against her throat. My hand slipped up to her shoulder and my pelvis fell forward. Instinct drew my dick to her. I flinched uncontrollably as it hit her lower abdomen. It craved some place lower on her body.
She didn’t push me away. In fact, her hands were splayed against the cool cement behind her. Her eyes shone bright behind those tempting red glasses and bright red lips to match sucked in air at the invasion of my body against hers. I wanted those lips to suck somewhere else. She’d done it before. I knew how sweet she could be. But her eyes were harder now, and I sensed those lips wanted nothing to do with any part of my body.
My hand continued to travel up the tender skin of her throat and she swallowed hard again. I felt her tremble beneath my touch. She wasn’t repulsed by me, but she was frightened. I didn’t want her to be afraid of me, but she needed to be concerned. If my father found her, there would be trouble like she’d never known before. Her sweetness did not understand the depths of evil connected with me.
“Don’t touch me,” she growled. On second thought, perhaps she did. My hand slipped into her chestnut locks and tugged gently, but enough to remind her that I was a strong man. I wouldn’t hurt her. In fact, I was certain I hadn’t hurt her in the past. I was the one that suffered.
“One night, you longed for my touch,” I whispered harshly, drawing my mouth closer to hers. “In fact, I remember someone sweetly asking for it.”
My other hand slithered in the opposite direction. It surveyed the gentle curves of the hills of side breast and the valley of cut abdomen until it rose again over hips. I gripped a fist full of material and tugged it upward. Her body was jostled with the rough hitch of her skirt.
“If I remember correctly, you wanted me,” I purred against her moist skin. Her fear produced a sheen of sweat that covered her face and my nose dragged along her jaw, then dipped down her neck. She was trying to hold herself still. Her hands lay flat against the wall to her sides. My hips held her in place as the skirt rose.
My fingers graced the soft skin of her thigh. She flinched and I pressed against her firmly. There was no doubt of my excitement. Dressed only in my fighting shorts, my bare chest brushed close to her generous breasts, breasts that had been covered with my hands and mouth. I wanted to reenact those memories, but my hand had other intentions. In a jagged drag of skin against skin, my fingers gripped her thigh as they worked upward, heading for the fruit of my desire.
“Do you still want me?” I whispered into her neck. I needed to know. “Do you remember?” I groaned as a thick digit delved through the warm moisture of folded skin, ready for what I intended. I wanted inside her. Damp with desire, I slipped aggressively into her. I demanded she remember as I added a second finger. Her breath hitched as she moaned and hea
vy lids closed.
“Look at me,” I commanded. My forehead almost rested on hers, but I held back enough to look into her eyes. I wanted her to see me, remember me, remember what I’d done to her. How she felt under me, wrapped within her. I groaned again as my dick flinched. I was so hard my skin felt too tight. This temptress had to remember what she had done to me, as well. I was going to come undone being this close to her and yet so far away.
Blue eyes pierced mine, but they still contained softness within them. I didn’t believe my sweet temptation could rot. She was spoiled by me, but she wasn’t crushed. She was stronger than that.
“Do you remember?” I asked aggressively as my fingers increased their exploration. It was a returned excavation. They rediscovered what they missed. Sliding in and out, she joined my pace. Her hips moved slowly, then increased, matching the beat inside her.
“That’s it, my sweet,” I pulled back to watch her lids droop, then fight to open wide. “Good girl,” I rasped as I pushed back a stray hair but didn’t falter in my rhythm between her legs. Her hands released from the wall. Palms flattened against my shoulders then wrapped around them as best they could. She had delicate hands: tender and gentle. They had teased as she had tugged me and stroked me the first time. I jolted against her and my hips pressed toward her, but my hand was the focus. Her fingers dug into bare skin covered in tattoos of the snake I was. Sharp, blunt nails soon pinched into me as her hips rocked and her dripping center rolled.
“I want you to remember,” I growled. “Remember where I’ve been. Who I am.” My fingers took on a life of their own and they worked hard, digging deeper into a tender cavern of warmth, wet and ripe for me. My thumb flicked over the sensitive pear outside of her. She inhaled. Nails gripped into hard skin. She didn’t have claws, not my girl, but she was latching onto me. That’s exactly what I wanted.
“Tell me you didn’t forget,” I whispered, my voice dropping as my pace continued. She didn’t answer me and I stopped. The blue rivers turned to ice as she glared at me. I was the devil and I would break this reunion if she didn’t play my game.
She shook her head, refusing to speak. I pulled out of her quickly, feeling the release of her juices as they dripped down her leg. Her eyes narrowed only slightly. Then she said my name. It was hardly more than a squeak, a plea, a question. Her nails began to release me. Fingers peeled upward from my skin. I was going to lose her.
Fingers slammed back into her and her head gently fell back. She sucked in a harsh breath as I demanded she remember. Without words, I wanted her to feel what I had done to her. Only me.
I worked fast and her fingers lay back against my warm skin. Nails returned to make tender impressions on my shoulder. She could mark me. I wouldn’t care. She’d already scarred my heart.
“Cain?” she questioned, but I knew the answer. She was ready to burst. Her tender fruit had been plucked and she wanted what came next. That first bite. The sound of my name almost undid me, but it would take more than that for me to be satisfied. For her, the flick of my thumb unleashed her. Nails burrowed deep, her eyes shuddered closed, and her head tipped back. She clenched hard, squeezing my hand between her thighs. My dick practically danced to be in between them, but I had been the king of denial. I would not have her yet. This was only a reminder.
As my attention slowed, and I spread fingers through folds so wet they dripped, my forehead came to hers.
“Tell me you remember?” I pleaded. I wanted her to remember. My heart fell to my stomach as I held my breath.
“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget.”
I pulled back in surprise, my eyes opened wide. My expression had to betray a strange sense of glee.
“I’ll never forget,” she whispered, averting my eyes as she looked down at her raised skirt and my hand retreating from under it. She pushed the material downward hastily then shoved my wrist away from her.
“I’ll never forget…that you’re an asshole.” Propelled backward as she braced against my chest, I stumbled in surprise at her use of profanity. My girl didn’t swear, but the venom in her voice proved she’d changed. My sweet temptation was tainted by the poison of me and what I’d done to her. I let her escape as her words sliced through me. I was an asshole.
L.B. Dunbar loves the original legend of King Arthur. Inspired by this classic tale, she pulled over to the side of the road to take notes when it hit her that if King Arthur lived today, he'd be a rock star. A lover of fairy tales, myths, legends, and anything with happily ever after, she loves to read and write contemporary romance. Her Legendary Rock Stars series is complete with the final tale: The Trials of Guinevere DeGrance, but the story begins with The Legend of Arturo King. She also wrote The Sensations Collection, which includes five stand alones based on the five senses in a small town setting near Lake Michigan. Raised on one side of that lake, she grew up in Michigan, but now lives on the other side, in Chicago. Mother to four, wife to the one and only, and teacher to hundreds of former students, she looks forward to sharing more stories in the future.
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Also by L.B. Dunbar
Legendary Rock Stars
The Story of Lansing Lotte
The Quest of Perkins Vale
The Truth of Tristan Lyons
The Trials of Guinevere DeGrance
The Legend of Arturo King
Sensations Collection
Sound Advice
Taste Test
Fragrance Free
Touch Screen
Sight Words
Standalone
Paradise Fought: Abel (Coming Soon)
Watch for more at L.B. Dunbar’s site.
About the Author
L.B. Dunbar loves the original legend of King Arthur. Inspired by this classic tale, she pulled over to the side of the road to take notes when it hit her that if King Arthur lived today, he'd be a rock star. A lover of fairy tales, myths, legends, and anything with happily ever after, she loves to read and write contemporary romance. Her Legendary Rock Stars series is complete with the final tale: The Trials of Guinevere DeGrance, but the story began with The Legend of Arturo King. She also wrote The Sensations Collection, which includes five stand alones based on the five senses in a small town setting near Lake Michigan. Raised on one side of that lake, she grew up in Michigan, but now lives on the other side, in Chicago. Mother to four, wife to the one and only, and teacher to hundreds of former students, she looks forward to sharing more stories in the future.
Read more at L.B. Dunbar’s site.