by Wick,Christa
Dropping one hand lower, Kane cupped Daniella’s mound, squeezed roughly then broke the kiss.
“Lift it up,” he ordered, not wanting to release his grip on her hair and the way it allowed him to control her head while he played with her pussy.
With a rough swallow and a slow blink, she obeyed, her hands clutching at the fabric of her robe and nightgown. Kane slid two fingers underneath the bottom trim of her panties, his bare foot tapping lightly against her ankle.
“Wider,” he rasped.
With a hot groan, she obeyed, the thick, juicy labia parting so that he could slick his fingers with her cream and run the pads along the swollen clit.
Daniella jerked, released a shaky breath, but kept her legs spread and her nightclothes lifted high.
“I need you in my bed,” he growled with a nip at her throat. “Tell me ‘yes.’”
“Yes,” she whispered.
She released her tight grip on the clothes and then he bent and scooped her up, his mouth bearing down on hers, his tongue probing as his cock protested its need to be buried deep inside the hot folds he had just fingered.
Down the hall he carried her, past the guest room to the master suite. He pushed the door inward with his foot, his speed increasing with each step until he had Daniella on her back, a shocked laugh escaping her as she bounced and then he landed on top of her.
He jerked her clothes up over her hips, one hand kneading and caressing her thighs as he kissed her again.
“You’re staying,” he ordered, asking her to agree to more than she could understand at that moment—to more than he could put into words.
He wanted her, not for the night or the weekend or the week.
“Yes,” she answered. “And so are you.”
He smiled then bit gently at her lip, his teeth keeping hold and tugging before he released her and soothed the small dent in her flesh with the tip of his tongue.
Pulling back onto his knees, he stripped her panties away then moved forward to press his torso against Daniella’s and whisper in her ear.
“I want to see you.”
He felt the hesitation, remembered the anxiety he had seen in the kitchen.
“Don’t you want to see me, too?” he teased, his lips playing along her throat.
When she mewled her consent, he reached over and tapped the base of the lamp once so that a soft glow lit her body. Meeting her sparkling gray gaze, he stared and read the vulnerability and shyness. Dipping his head, he brushed his nose along her cheek, near her mouth, then ghosted his lips over hers.
Still trapped inside his pajama pants, Kane’s cock tapped against the material, eager to emerge. Realizing there wasn’t a single condom in the penthouse because he never brought women home, Kane buried his face against Daniella’s neck, his rough beard producing a shiver and a delighted giggle from the woman beneath him.
The sound steamrolled across his body.
Don’t want a condom, his cock proclaimed as the fat crown bullied its way past the waistband of his pants.
What about what Dani wants?
Convince her, it argued around the dribble of pre-cum that beaded at its tip. Convince her, drive her crazy, make her go wild.
The tightness in his chest easing, Kane looked at the woman whose simple presence had him ready to break all his rules.
“Dani, baby—I need you naked.”
Arms extended over her head, Daniella let Trent strip the nightgown from her body. Not counting her doctor, she hadn’t been exposed to a man like this in almost three years. And only once before, her first time, had she felt so vulnerable or excited.
Her body managed to tingle and shake simultaneously until she met Trent’s gaze and melted onto the mattress.
A gentle smiled played across his face. She would have labeled it loving but she wasn’t delusional. There was some attraction between them, she couldn’t deny that. But she would go back to believing in Santa Claus before she would accept there was such a thing as insta-love.
Seeing that he was just looking at her, his unbuttoned shirt and his pajama bottoms still hiding most of him from her, she tugged at the cuff of his sleeves. He rolled his shoulders, his smile widening, and the shirt came off. His chest was smoother than silk, not a strand of hair on it.
Her forehead wrinkled and she amended her silky smooth assessment. Reaching up, she ran a finger along a scar that was thin, white and almost as long as her hand.
“Courtesy of an Iraqi insurgent,” he said. “That was also the day I met Reed.”
She trailed a finger lower to another long line that started about an inch to the right of his navel and ran a straight line over to his hip.
“Moscow, rusty end of a broken pipe on the day I met Nazarov.”
She cocked a brow. “Do you have a scar for every friend you have?”
His mouth puckered and he pushed his pajama pants down his lean hips. She lost track of what his hands were doing with the material as his cock bobbed into view. She sucked her bottom lip in, rubbing it against the ridge of her top teeth as her jaw tightened in appreciation.
That was definitely as smooth as silk, but she better touch it to make sure.
Capturing her wrist, Trent pulled her hand forward and brushed her fingertips against his inner left thigh instead.
Her expression turned dead serious as she saw the ragged, star-shaped scar. “You were shot there?”
The spot was close to the femoral artery.
“You…this could have…you…” she gulped in more air.
“Almost bled out,” he confirmed. “But Stark was there, although it wasn’t our first meeting.”
He lifted his left arm to display a two-inch gouge on his inner bicep. “This was.”
Her face collapsed around itself, the beautiful cock forgotten.
“Shh,” he coaxed, pressing his torso against hers, the hard muscles forcing her soft flesh to yield. He kissed along the edge of her chin. “Just in case you’re starting to think I’m incompetent, I’ve saved their asses often enough.”
“I wouldn’t think you’re incompetent,” she promised, her fingertips running along his back, discovering new scars. Her lips began to quiver but Trent covered her mouth with his, the too clever tongue licking a faint line until she opened to him, all the damage to his beautiful body forgotten for the moment.
He gnawed at her bottom lip, licked a line against the center of her upper palate. Opening up space between them, he skimmed his fingers down her curves and across her thigh to find her poor, neglected pussy, its exterior hot and wet with need. His smile was a shifting mix of carnal and tender that pricked her nipples and lifted her hips.
She had a warrior in bed with her, a man who ran a multi-billion dollar paramilitary company. At that moment, he was looking at her like she was the most beautiful woman in the world.
None of it made sense.
“You have questions dancing in your eyes, Dani.”
She blinked then shook her head. She wasn’t losing this moment to her insecurities.
Daniella circled one of his small, dark nipples with a fingertip, then slowly criss-crossed her way, scar by scar, down to the cock that pressed into the swell of her stomach. His eyes drifted shut, his hand working between her legs, stroking at the line of her clit.
She squirmed, wanting to give him pleasure and knowing the more he teased her, the less control she’d have over her own actions. Her lips parted, a moan escaping.
“I need more of those,” Trent rasped, planting his knee between hers and coaxing her to spread her thighs. When she followed his lead, he wedged his lower body between her legs and began a slow cascade of kisses that began with her mouth.
Good-bye, swollen, tingling lips.
Hello, chin.
Good-bye, gently curving neck with its hummingbird pulse.
Hello, collar bone.
A cry escaped when he reached her nipple and sucked it roughly into his mouth. Two thick fingers loaded up with her juices
before slowly pushing into her, their length buried down to their base knuckles. Her muscles gripped at the invaders, milking them with a desperate greed as her hips began to roll.
Trent groaned, released the nipple. Kisses turned to light bites as he moved over the swell of her stomach. His fingers emerged wet from deep inside her pussy. Wrapping a hand around each thigh, he opened Daniella up wider and then his mouth fastened around her clit.
Cream pulsed hot and thick from her core.
Curling her fingers around the back of his head, she held him in place, her hips cresting like a mare that had never had a rider before. He had her there, so close, so, so close.
His mouth abandoning her pussy, he bit at her thigh, one thumb returning to press hard against her clit. A frustrated scream beckoned. She would have released it if they had been alone in his home.
Instead, she offered a soft, begging “please, Trent.”
A growl rumbled against the slick flesh of her thigh.
“Ask me again.”
“Please,” she mewled. “Please put your mouth back where it was.”
Twisting, he kissed her knee then licked a line near it bend. “Here?”
Oh, he wanted to play dirty.
She could do dirty.
“I need you to lick my pussy. You made it all hot and ready to burst before you abandoned it.”
“Yeah,” he rasped then swallowed roughly. “Okay.”
Her shoulders shook, the first bounce amusement at the raw need in his voice, the second bounce pure pleasure as his mouth made contact with her sex again, the sucking and licking relentlessly harder.
Daniella’s lips parted. Her eyes closed. Her fingertips tap danced against the back of his head.
With his whole mouth working Daniella’s clit, Trent pushed a hard triangle of fingers into her pussy. Muscles contracted, knotted and coiled. Her clit jerked up and down beneath the rough, scraping caress of his tongue and teeth.
Turning his head, he offered a teasing chuckle as he began to knead her already swollen labia with his lips. In and out his fingers slid, slow, twisting, taunting.
Her body shook, breasts bouncing as she twitched with need. Her labia swelled thicker, the flesh becoming hypersensitive, every bristly hair along his chin and cheeks an erotic torture.
“Trent,” Daniella begged when she thought she really wouldn’t be able to hold back a scream if he didn’t finish her quickly. “My clit needs you.”
Her pussy wouldn’t stop contracting around his fingers. Its swollen muscles pulled upward with each inflamed pulse of her nerves.
Ever so faintly, he touched just the tip of his tongue to the small pearl hidden in the hood of her clit. From there, just as softly, he licked upward. When he reached the top…
Oh, when he reached the top…
She sucked a deep breath in and exploded.
Her hips shot toward the ceiling, spasming. His hands dragged her back down the to mattress, his feasting no longer that of a master in control but a long famished man as he licked and sucked and gnawed at her pussy, the contractions filling his mouth with her juices.
He swallowed, kissed, slurped until Daniella’s eyes rolled up and she cried out.
“Please, mercy…oh…”
Trent swiftly sailed forward, his lips at her ear, his rough voice demanding she yield completely.
“Tell me you want my cock.”
“Yes,” she groaned. “I want your cock.”
“Filling that sweet pussy,” he demanded.
“Yes, yes,” she begged. “I need all of it in me, in my pussy, please, Trent, now.”
She threw her legs wide, her knees bent and pressing against his lean hips. He lifted up on his arms and looked down to where their bodies met. She stared with him, saw the cock thick and swollen with blood, pre-cum pearling at the tip, saw the tip disappear inside her, then felt the fat shaft as it stretched her pussy.
Trent began to rock against her with long, confident strokes. He caught her gaze, held it as he drove into her, her soft tissues swelling on the inside to make everything tighter, the ache so sweet she thought she would go blind from it.
“Dani…” He shifted so that his forearms pressed against the bed, his chest pushing at her tender breasts. He kissed her, repeated her name, then kissed her again, his tongue as insistent with its firm strokes as the cock battering her insides.
She couldn’t breathe, didn’t care. She was cresting again, a raw, keening moan scratching inside her throat. Trent’s hips started to grind, his breathing as erratic as Daniella’s.
He moaned her name, told her she was perfect, fucking perfect, and then they seized together, his cock jerking inside her, the thick jets it released flooding her pussy.
Minutes would pass before he pulled out, then more minutes as he gently cleaned her swollen, pulsing flesh before pulling the covers over them.
Cradled in his arms, Daniella fell asleep, never imagining she would wake to her world on fire and the hard slap of reality that Trent wasn’t the man she thought she had come to understand.
Chapter Eight
Waking to an empty bed, Daniella hurriedly put on her robe and went into the hall. Hearing the sound of Christine slurping on a bottle, she tiptoed down the hallway.
“You’re not as good at that as I am,” a deep baritone teased before she made it to the open door.
She stuck her head in the guest room to find Trent sitting in his big office chair, Christine dwarfed in his careful embrace.
“I thought you could use a chance to sleep in.”
“Thank you.” She blinked, her nose beginning to sting. The gesture was sweet as hell, but she was also sorry that she didn’t get to wake up next to him, maybe while he still slept so she would always have that memory.
“I’ll finish feeding her,” she said, stepping into the room. “She probably needs changed, too.”
He swiveled the chair, keeping the baby out of reach. “Already taken care of.”
She stopped, shocked and pleased at the same time. “You can change a diaper?”
“While it has a few similarities to defusing a bomb, it’s not as complicated,” he laughed. “My boss is very particular who he has guarding his daughter when a threat arises. Thankfully Mia had her potty trained early.”
“Oh,” Daniella laughed. “Like some kind of super nanny. Didn’t they make a movie about you with The Rock?”
He threw a mock glare in her direction. Putting the bottle down, he held Christine out.
“You can burp her,” he said. “I don’t think you would appreciate my jackhammer method any more than Mia did.”
Grinning so much her cheeks hurt, Daniella positioned Christine against her shoulder and began to lightly pat at the infant’s back. Trent stood and retrieved the bottle before planting a light kiss on Daniella’s cheek.
Stepping out off the room, he looked back. “I’ll clean this and get started on our breakfast. I was thinking crepes.”
She looked at him, eyes as big as her smile.
“You don’t like crepes?”
Daniella shook her head, realized that was the wrong answer and rushed to reassure him. “Oh, I love them. Thank you. As soon as I get her settled, I’ll change and meet you in the kitchen.”
His mouth made a funny little twist that set her body to tingling.
“I suppose clothes would be appropriate,” he teased, leaning across the threshold and claiming one last kiss before he disappeared down the hall.
Daniella toed the door shut, her entire body buzzing with joy. Christine was with her, safe and protected, and Trent was—well, he was amazing.
Placing the baby in the crib, her relaxed body and shut eyes indicating she was asleep already, Daniella had to cup her hands over her own mouth to contain the delighted squeak that had been building in her chest with Trent’s last kiss.
Quietly, when she could lower her hands, she opened the dresser drawer. Seeing the dismal choice of clothes, she winced.
&
nbsp; Maybe just the robe—and a quick shower—would be better?
Grinning, she tiptoed into the bathroom and shut the door. She turned on the water, dropped the robe and drew her hair up into a messy bun. Five minutes under the shower head and another five drying off and applying a touch of cosmetics passed and then she was stepping into the kitchen, her cheeks burning from her uncharacteristic boldness.
The instant her gaze landed on Trent, the blood left her face, her rosy cheeks paling and turning cold. No breakfast was cooking and a solemn mask had settled over his face.
“Is someone hurt?”
Lips pressed together, he shook his head as he stepped toward her. His hands wrapped around her shoulders and he drew her against his chest.
“No one was hurt,” he started, his hand stroking at her hair. “But your house was burned down last night.”
She looked up, certain she had heard him incorrectly.
“It’s true. Reed just called me. The fire department was able to stop it before it spread to the neighbors, but there’s nothing left.”
He thumbed at one of the tears running down her cheek. “I’m sorry, Dani. I’ll have a recovery team sift through the ashes. Sometimes photo albums last longer and if you have any lock boxes.”
She shook her head. “The Marquardts weren’t one for taking pictures. And I have photos of Lynn on her Facebook and my phone, same for Christine.”
Her lips began to quiver. Trent cupped the sides of her face and lightly pressed his mouth to Daniella’s until her shaking subsided.
“Reed will have a clone for you tomorrow, all the pictures will still be there.”
She nodded. When Trent had her surrender her phone a second time at his office, she had thought he was being overly cautious. If he would have suggested then that Merl’s associates would burn down her house, she would have called him paranoid.
Now she was homeless.
“Here,” he said, guiding her down the hall toward his office. “You still need to eat. Rest in here and I’ll make breakfast.”