by Jo Davis
Grace snorted. “That’s ridiculous! I’m glad you didn’t buy her stupid story.”
“Well, I have to admit she made it sound pretty credible while I was talking to her. But that’s probably because I was thrown by her being there, and by how sincere she sounded.”
“She could be lying to protect Derek.”
They finished their shots and he waited, seeing her chewing on something. Her next question was gentle. Hesitant.
“You’ve never spoken about this with anyone outside your family, even as an adult? Professionally, I mean.”
“A shrink?” He gave a humorless laugh. “No. Not happening.”
She patted his hand, glancing down as she rubbed her thumb over the back of it. “Why am I not surprised? I just can’t help but wonder . . . no. Never mind.”
“What?”
“No, it’s none of my business.”
“You can ask me anything, Grace.” He meant it.
She met his gaze evenly. “I can’t help but wonder how this has affected your sexuality.”
“I—I’m not sure I follow.” But really, he was afraid he did.
Her cheeks flushed a rosy shade. “You’ve been with a lot of women, and it would make sense that you were trying to . . .”
“Compensate? Prove my masculinity because of what happened to me?”
“Yes, I guess so.”
Damn. “To be honest, I suppose a therapist might’ve said that. And there might even be some truth to it.”
“But?”
“I’ve never been a saint and I won’t pretend otherwise,” he said, shrugging. “I love sex, and to have a woman underneath me is the most wonderful and natural thing in the world, and I don’t think that has a thing to do with any hidden need to prove myself. I like it often and varied.”
“Varied how?” She eyed him, truly curious.
“Bella,” he said with a groan. He was glad to move the topic away from the subject of his trauma, but this? Her eager curiosity wrapped around his balls, enticing his erection to throbbing life.
“Come on, tell me,” she coaxed, scooting into his side.
“You’re killing me here.” He shot her a smile. “All right. I like it slow and easy, or fast and hard, a little rough sometimes if she’s willing. I love a little danger, and I’m a bit of an exhibitionist. Do any of these bother you?”
“Not at all—well, except for the rough part. I’m not sure pain sounds like fun.”
“There’s a fine line between pleasure and pain,” he said, trailing one finger down her throat. “And there’s nothing like allowing yourself to lose control with a lover you trust implicitly.” She arched toward him, pupils large. He could practically smell her arousal mingling with her natural sweet scent.
“Seems I’ve led a very boring, missionary life. Sounds like you might have the cure.”
“I might. Why don’t we find out?”
“I don’t like to lose control.”
“Let me change your mind,” he whispered against her lips. He brushed them with a kiss, nibbled her jaw.
“Make love to me, Julian.”
“Dios, yes.” Standing, he pulled Grace to her feet and led her the short distance to her bedroom. When she began to work on the buttons of her blouse, he stepped up and pushed her hands away. “Let me.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but nodded instead, watching his face. He planned to strip her barriers, layer by pretty layer.
Parting her blouse, he pushed it off her shoulders. She let it slide to the floor, but his attention was on removing the lacy little scrap of a bra. He flicked the clasp and drew the straps off her shoulders, tossed it down to join the blouse. Next, he unzipped her pants, drawing them over her hips along with her panties, down her legs.
She stepped out of her clothes and he sucked in an appreciative breath. “Beautiful, just like I remember.”
“Good thing you’re blind.”
“You’re perfect to me, every inch of you.”
His gaze swept from the halo of blond hair flowing loose down her back, to her trim waist and hips, down her slim, coltish legs. True, she wasn’t the stacked, curvy bombshell type he’d gone for in the past.
But this was his Grace, and no woman could ever be fit to breathe the same air.
“My turn.” Advancing on him, she relieved him of his jacket and shirt. She made short work of his belt, unfastened his pants, and returned the favor, quickly getting him naked.
His erection sprang free, jutting proudly toward her, begging for attention. With a low sound of approval, she reached out and cupped his balls, manipulating them. Groaning, he brushed a hand through her long hair, canting his hips, eager for more. Clever fingers traced his length, dabbed the pre-cum on the cap.
“God, that feels so good,” he hissed.
“You are one gorgeous man, Salvatore. Get on the bed and let me taste you.”
Lord help him, he did exactly as she said, aware that, for the moment, she’d taken control. For now, he was happy to let her. He spread his legs and she crawled between them, stalking him, amethyst eyes glittering. He thought he’d die of anticipation before she finally licked the head of his cock, and when his shaft was surrounded by her hot, wet mouth, he was certain he would.
“Ahh, shit. Yes, baby . . .”
The glorious suction sent bolts of heaven through his balls, to every limb. Her tongue swirled around him, bathed his cock, laved the sensitive ridge underneath. His breaths were hitching in short gasps, and he knew he’d unravel soon.
“Baby, stop or I’m going to come,” he managed.
Crouching over him, she smirked. “Isn’t that the idea?”
“Not yet. I want to be inside you, take us there together.” Body aching in protest, he sat up and gestured to the middle of the bed. “Get on your hands and knees, querida.”
She blinked at him, but after a brief hesitation, she complied. Moving into place, she arched her back and spread her knees, poking her tight, round rear into the air.
His cock jumped at the sight, and he moved behind her, smoothing a palm over one creamy globe of her ass as she shivered. Oh, yes. Before he was finished, he’d have her writhing and begging for him. “Stay just like this.”
Quickly, he dug a couple of condoms out of his wallet and returned to her, pitching them on the bed beside him. Resting a hand on one butt cheek, he dipped his fingers into her sex, pleased to find her already wet.
“Good girl,” he murmured, his tone low, seductive. He began to rub her slit, spreading her cream, loving how she went liquid for him. “You like this, don’t you?”
“Y-yes.”
“Spread your knees wider. That’s it.” Gently, he inserted two fingers into her moist channel. Began to pump her, making sure to tease her clit with each stroke. “Tell me how this feels.”
“Good,” she moaned, wriggling on his hand. “So good.”
“Want me to stop? All you have to do is say the word.”
“No! Please . . .”
“Please, what? Do you want my cock?”
“Yes! I need you inside me.”
Removing his fingers from her sheath, he teased the tender nub of her clit. “Not yet.”
She shook her head. “Now! Julian . . .”
“Soon.” Crouching, he nuzzled her sex. At her whimper, he gave her slit a long, slow lick, savoring her juices. She shuddered, and he knew then that he’d own her body and soul. He suckled the slick folds, nibbled and flicked. “You’re burning up, baby. Ready for me?”
“Hurry,” she panted, quivering.
Wetting one finger, he knelt behind her, parted her cheeks. He doubted she’d ever been pleasured this way, and his suspicion was confirmed when he pushed into her tiny rosette—and she nearly exploded in the best possible sense.
“Oh, my God! Oh, God, yes!”
“That’s right, baby,” he crooned. “Incredible, isn’t it? One day, this could be my cock. Would you like that, bella?”
“Yes
. . . Julian, please.”
“You’re mine, Grace. I’m the only man who’ll pleasure you. Do you understand?”
She stiffened, her hoarse response like a slap. “No. I’m not a piece of property.”
“Grace—”
“Get off me.”
He cursed himself, backing away just a little and urging her to lie on her back. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, combing her hair from her face. “I pushed too hard, but it’s only because I want you so much. Tell me what to do. What you want.”
“Just be with me. No demands. Can you do that?”
“For you, anything. Give me another chance?” Dios, please don’t back away from me now. I can’t breathe without you.
At her nod, relief washed over him like a tide. He hadn’t messed things up beyond repair. Crawling between her legs, he focused on Grace. On their pleasure, together.
Covering her body like a blanket, he reached between them and rubbed her clit in lazy circles. Kissed her with all the tenderness he possessed, sweeping his tongue into her moist heat. Tasting and probing.
“I need you,” she pleaded, breaking away at last. “Inside me, please!”
With those words, nothing could’ve stopped him. He plucked one of the foil packets from the comforter, ripped it open, and rolled the condom on with practiced ease.
Scooping his hands under her bottom, he lifted her, and then guided the head between the lips of her sex and, in one smooth motion, buried himself balls deep. “Ahh, fuck, yeah.”
They were seated together, his balls rubbing against her sex with delicious friction. He remained still for a moment, reveling in finally being inside her, where he belonged, letting her feel him, as well.
“Oh, Dios mío,” he rasped, and began to move with long, slow strokes. “So good.”
All the way out, then in to the hilt. A sensuous slide, claiming the woman under him. She writhed for him, mewl ing, lost to his taking her. She began to meet his thrusts with abandon, urging him to increase the tempo. He gladly gave his lady what she asked for, fucking her hard and deep, driving into her relentlessly.
“Julian, yes! Oh, God!”
“Come for me, baby. Come on my cock.”
She shattered, her cries ringing in his ears, music to his soul. His balls drew up, the familiar quickening gathering at the base of his spine an instant before he shot. Holding her tight, he shouted, the force of his release rolling his eyeballs back in his head. On and on, spasming long after he’d emptied.
Drained at last, he pulled out of her carefully and kissed her forehead. “Be right back.”
After disposing of the condom in the bathroom, he hurried to bed and cuddled in behind her, spooning them together. “I’m sorry for before,” he said, regret spearing his gut. He stroked her silky hair, feeling like a jerk.
“It’s okay. You just hit one of my sore spots.”
“I didn’t mean to. Are you all right?”
“I am. Better than, so quit worrying.”
He heard the smile, the sated quality of her sleepy voice, and relaxed. “Okay.”
“Stay?” She yawned.
“Until you tire of me. Sleep, baby.”
Safe in her arms, he drifted off, happier and more content than he’d ever been. She hadn’t promised him forever, but he’d take what she had to give, and shower her with all the love and affection she deserved. He’d see to her needs, in every way. And maybe one day, he’d own her heart.
God knew she already owned his.
11
Grace awoke to sunshine, a bone-deep sense of satisfaction, and two hundred pounds of warm male pressed half on top of her, whispering sweet Spanish nothings to her nipple.
Her nipple?
Curious, she cracked one eye open—and smiled lazily. Oh, yes. Her insatiable Latin lover was heaping praise upon her breast, tipping one of the shot glasses to dribble creamy brown liquid onto one perky nipple, and licking it off like a cat lapping cream.
“Mmm.” She stretched languorously, forking her fingers through his black hair. “What on earth do you think you’re doing?”
Grinning like a mischievous boy, he waggled his brows. “Making Buttery Nipples. Whoever invented these was a genius.”
“I don’t think—oh!—drinking your breakfast is a good idea. Julian!” She giggled, trying to wiggle away.
He pinned her firmly, worrying the peak with his teeth. “Not drinking,” he murmured. “Enhancing your already divine flavor. Big difference.”
“But—”
“Shh, bella. Let me play.”
And play he did. Oh, my.
He drizzled the liquor down her torso, licking it as he went. With a particularly wicked gleam in his dark eyes, he filled her belly button with the sweet stuff, then sipped it clean. But when he pushed apart her thighs, hooked her calves over his shoulders, and held the glass over her sex, she couldn’t stop her surprised squeak.
“You can’t be serious!”
He was. The lukewarm liquid bathed her slit as he emptied the shot glass, pitched it aside. Then his wonderful, hot mouth sucked and laved off every drop. After he cleaned her folds, he latched on to her clit, his tongue sending shocks of ecstasy through her nerve endings. He clearly enjoyed what he was doing and she felt herself melting, opening to him as she’d done last night.
Giving herself completely to whatever he wanted, letting him take the lead. And loving it as she never had with any man.
“Yes! Oh, Julian, please!”
This time, he didn’t make her beg further, though she would have if he’d demanded it. Vaguely she was aware of his groping the covers for the other condom. Ripping open the package and making himself ready.
And then he covered her, pushed his cock inside, and wrapped himself around her. Holding her, keeping her safe as he made love to her.
Making love. That’s what it was. Sweet, passionate love, filling her again and again. If last night had been about bringing out her wild side, this was about his giving back to her tenfold. Showing her without words the depth of his emotion, his commitment.
No man had ever given all of himself to her before, with no promise from her of anything in return.
She watched his handsome face lost in joy, loving the play of his muscles under her fingertips, his gold cross dangling on her breastbone. His eyes caught hers and held as they moved together, the crescendo building, higher, stronger.
Julian’s body went taut and his lips parted, his hips jerking in time to his orgasm. His release triggered her own and she joined him, clinging, riding the waves until they floated down together, sated.
“Thank you, bella.” He kissed her temple and withdrew, rolling onto his back and cradling her against his chest.
For a while, they didn’t speak, content to hold each other and contemplate the change in their relationship. Well, at least that’s what she was thinking of. He might be daydreaming about his past conquests or the weather, for all she knew.
Raising her head a bit, she glanced up at him and found his expression serious, a slight frown on his face. “What’s on your mind?”
“Nothing I care to get into and spoil our nice interlude,” he said, stroking her hair.
“Something is bothering you. Oh, boy—I think I know what it is.” Anxious, she propped herself on her elbow, resting her head in her hand. “We were having such a wonderful evening, I totally forgot to ask you about your visit to the police station. You did go and tell them about your accident and the bartender’s death, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. I saw Shane Ford. He’s the homicide detective who worked Howard’s case.”
Her stomach sank. “I remember. That means . . .”
“It’s official; we’ve got a serial killer. They have remains of two missing kids, but neither of them are Brett Charles. These were the first two who disappeared ten months ago, and they haven’t been dead that long. Ford believes our man is holding them for weeks or months, getting his kicks torturing and doing God knows what e
lse to them, then butchering them.”
“Oh, sweet Lord. Charles and the others could still be alive?” While that might give the families hope, she couldn’t fathom anything more horrifying than suffering for weeks on end at the hands of a psychopath, waiting to die.
“It’s possible. Me, I’d want to go quick and clean.”
“You’re not goinganywhere, quickly or otherwise,” she said, poking his chest. When he’d been struck, what might’ve happened if he’d had internal injuries or hit his head a little harder . . . ? God, it was enough to make her sick. “What did he say about you and the bartender? Did he know?”
“Nope. Had no clue, and he was pretty pissed that the information fell between the cracks. I’m sure both so-called accidents will get another hard look. Ford’s a thorough guy.”
“I hope you’re right. If anything happened to you . . .” No. Not going there. The notion was terrifying.
“Hey, I’ll be all right,” he said, leaning over to kiss her forehead. “Even if the hit-and-run was intentional, I’m sure he won’t risk exposure again. The murders have probably hit the news this morning and he’ll need to go to ground.”
“Maybe he won’t have the opportunity to snatch more victims, either. And I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation. This is unreal.”
“I know,” he said quietly. “But the police will figure this out and catch him.”
As a lawyer, Grace knew this wasn’t true the majority of the time. No sense in bringing it up, though.
Exploring, she skimmed a palm down his injured side. “Your bruises are healing nicely. Are you still in any pain?”
“Just a twinge here and there, nothing to worry about,” he replied, giving her a reassuring hug.
“Your head?”
“Everything’s fine, baby. I was a little sore when I went back to work on Wednesday, but I managed.”
She snuggled closer. Damn, it made her warm and fuzzy when he called her by his pet names. Suddenly, he jerked upright, unceremoniously dumping her to the side. “Shit! What time is it?”
Scowling, she sat up and peered at the bedside clock radio. “Almost seven forty-five. Why?”