Placing myself in his hands.
Giving myself to him.
“Look at you. Just fucking look at you. You are killing me,” he murmured as he cupped my cheek in his right hand. “You’re all I thought about all day. Seeing you. Touching you. Tasting you. Having you,” he said, stroking my cheek. He paused, his voice rough with desire. “And fucking you.”
He swept his lips over mine in a deep, devouring, hungry kiss. His tongue searched mine, and I let him lead. When he broke the kiss, I said softly, “Do whatever you want to me.”
He pressed his forehead to mine. “Everything,” he said. “I want to do everything to you, Sophie. I want to explore every inch of you. I want to taste all of you. I want to fuck you everywhere. But right now? I want your sweetness on my tongue.”
I gasped as heat raced through my body. “I want that too.”
“Keep your hands right where they are. Behind you,” he said, and I nodded.
Dipping his hands under the front of my apron, he tugged at my panties and pulled them to my ankles, then off. He hooked my high-heeled shoes more firmly back onto the rung, a clear sign I had to keep them in place. “I need to taste you every day. I can’t go this long without you on my lips,” he said, kneeling on the floor then burying his face between my legs.
I squeezed my eyes shut and cried out in pleasure, my voice becoming the harmony to Billie Holiday as Ryan licked and sucked and tasted. If I wasn’t allowed to move my body, I could use my mouth. I could rely on my voice. I could scream and moan and groan. And so I did, because every lick, every touch, every press of his tongue drove me wild.
He moaned against my center then pulled back. “Grab my head. Use your hands. Do whatever you want,” he said, giving me a command. Somewhere in the house I heard my ringtone. “Fly me to the Moon.” Seemed appropriate.
My hands flew into his hair, and I laced my fingers through those soft strands, for the first time touching him as he licked me. I’d longed for this chance. I loved being restrained, but I loved his hair too. I grasped harder, my nails curling into his skull. He groaned, a mad, feral sound as I dug into his head, and I knew that he wanted me to be rough right now. That he wanted me to show him how I felt about the way he touched me.
I felt like an animal.
Wild and crazed.
I held on to his head, yanking his mouth closer. I was on fire, a white-hot path of flames tearing through my body, burning everything in sight, turning me into an inferno as he fucked my pussy with his lips, his mouth, his tongue, and I rode his face until I saw stars, until the heavens fell from the sky and I came in his mouth.
Shuddering.
Trembling.
Shaking from head to toe.
Clutching his face between my legs as I rocked into him.
Soon enough, I uncurled my hands from his hair. Everything around us smelled like food, and sex, and chemistry, and peaches.
He reached into the bowl on the island that held the few extra peaches I’d sliced, grabbed a slice, and brought it to his lips. He ate it, and then said, “It’s good.”
He grabbed another piece of peach. He pulled down the top of my apron, exposing my red bra then unhooking it. He dragged the peach slice across my breasts. “Let me taste it like this,” he said, then licked up the juice from my body.
“So good. But it doesn’t even compare to you,” he murmured against my chest, and I moaned happily from his words and his touch.
I’d never been one for food play, only because I’d never had this type of sex. But Ryan licking the taste of a ripe peach from my pale skin felt like the way sex should be. It felt primal, an elemental connection between a woman who wanted a man and a man who had to have her. Nothing else at play but this red-hot, sinful desire that burned between us. I grabbed his head and pulled him to my breasts.
“That’s enough of you being able to use your hands,” he said, narrowing his eyes as he picked me up and carried me to the dining room table. He set me down on it and began undoing my apron strings.
“Ryan?” I whispered.
He looked at me, waiting.
“Do you remember what you said at the slot machine, what you wanted to do to me?” I gazed down to my breasts.
He pressed a finger to my lips. “I told you I would never forget your perfect tits. Do you think I have?”
I shook my head.
He dragged a finger between my breasts. “You want me to fuck these beautiful tits?” he asked. “You want to watch me come on them, don’t you?”
I inhaled sharply. “Oh God, I do.”
He got on the table and straddled me as I scooted back. “You need to do something first.”
“Anything.”
“Take off my shirt,” he said.
I sat up, thrilled to unbutton his shirt, pushing it over his chest then down his arms, murmuring as I felt how strong he was. He was so toned and muscular, so hard and fit. He shrugged off the shirt, and I splayed my hands across his chest, dragging my nails through the soft little hairs. He breathed deeply as I explored him.
“Unzip my pants,” he said, and I raced to unbutton then unzip them, pushing them down to his ass, freeing his cock. I ran the tip of my tongue over my teeth as I gazed at him. The head was swollen and pulsing, and I was dying to feel him. He untied the red ribbon behind my neck, letting the fabric of the ties fall. He pushed the material below my breasts, but I caught the ties and wrapped them around my own wrists.
I held them tight like that, savoring his reaction as he saw my breasts rise up more, creating an even deeper valley between them, from the tug of the fabric and my own hold on the ribbons, restraining myself as I waited for his next instructions.
32
Ryan
She’d offered her own bound body to me, and lust burned through me like wildfire. She was the most enticing woman I’d ever known.
A bolt of desire slammed into me at the sight of her sweet pink flesh. So slick and ready. I slid a finger through her folds, then dipped it inside her, watching her thrust up into my hand. Then I brought that finger to her perfect tits, spreading her wetness between them.
Her eyes widened as she watched me prepare her. I could have fucked her without lubrication. I could have taken her and just thrust my dick between those gorgeous globes of flesh, the friction spurring me on. But it would be better like this.
Better wet. Better slippery.
I gripped my dick, sliding a bead of liquid over the head and closing my eyes momentarily as the sensations roared through me. Fuck, I needed to come. I needed release.
I planted my knees by her ribs, then lowered myself to her chest, sliding my hard cock between her lush breasts, as I parked my hands on the table.
Then I ravaged her tits.
I groaned as I felt her soft flesh press against my dick. She’d inched her arms closer to her body, making a warm, snug tunnel for me. Her breasts caressed my cock as I thrust, my balls slapping against her chest. Her mouth parted, her lips open. Such an eager one, she flicked out her tongue and licked the tip on several thrusts.
“You like that, don’t you?” I asked, panting as heat spread through me.
She nodded. “I want to watch you get off on me,” she whispered as she held on tight to the ends of the red fabric, her firm grip on the ribbon giving me all the friction I needed. “I’ve never seen your face when you’re coming. I want to know what you look like when you come all over me.”
Desire surged in me, like white waters raging, as I pumped between that perfect flesh. I jammed my hands harder against the table. “Tell me how much you want it,” I growled, my voice ragged.
“So much,” she pleaded, her blue eyes shining with desire. My God, I had unleashed a wild woman in her, and I fucking loved it when she talked dirty to me, saying, “I want you all over my neck and my chest and my tits. Please give it to me.”
My spine ignited. My balls tightened, drawing up closer as I rocked through the slick, hot valley of her breasts. That first
neon burst of pleasure roared in me, then climbed higher as I pumped. Keeping my dick where it was happiest, I sat up so she could see my face as I gave her what she wanted.
“Now. Fucking now. Watch me come on you,” I groaned, fighting to keep my own eyes open, wanting to watch her as she savored the sight of me straddling her chest, rocking into her tits, and spilling hot white streams onto her breasts, all the way up to her neck and her chin, even the ends of her hair.
I shuddered.
A total body release.
She let go of the hold on one of her ribbons, dragged her finger between her breasts, and brought it to her lips, licking me off.
“Oh, beautiful. You deserve another orgasm for that,” I said, then fucked her with my fingers until she came riding my hand on her dining room table.
33
Ryan
Hot water rained down on us in her luxurious shower with glass brick walls. I poured some of her shampoo into my palm then lathered up her soft hair, taking my time working it into her wet strands. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against my chest.
“Your dinner’s probably getting cold,” I murmured in her ear as I turned her around and rinsed the shampoo from her hair.
“I know. But that’s what rewarming in the oven is for,” she said.
I looped an arm around her waist, tugging her soft, wet body against me. “I know this sounds crazy because it was only a few days ago when I saw you, but I did miss you,” I said, planting a kiss on her neck, then traveling to her lips, kissing her softly, slowly, taking my time. She whimpered sexily against my lips, and I let go. “That dinner is really going to get cold.”
“And I am really going to get hot the longer I stand here naked in the shower with you,” she said, and I eyed her all over, keenly aware that this was the first time she’d been completely naked in front of me, and I with her.
I held up my finger. “Let me go get a condom.” I turned to the shower door, when I felt her grasp my arm.
“I’m on the pill,” she said. “And I’m kind of ridiculously clean.”
I laughed. “Ridiculous is good. And same here. Clean, that is.”
I backed her up against the royal-blue tiled wall, hitched up her right leg around my hip, and guided myself into her.
There were no words to describe how fantastic she felt. So I didn’t say anything. I simply moved inside her, getting to know her body even more intimately as twilight fell and she wrapped her arms around my neck and whispered my name.
Soon, she was saying it louder, in an orgasmic shout, and I chased her there.
34
Sophie
Ryan pointed admiringly at the chicken, polishing off his second serving. “This is delicious. You sure can cook.”
“Just wait till you have dessert, then,” I said with a smile as I brought the glass of pinot grigio to my lips and took a sip of the wine he’d brought. The peach tulips blazed brightly in a vase in the middle of the table. After cleaning up—and heating up—in the shower, I’d changed into a short yellow sundress and had combed my hair into a clip. Ryan had dressed again, but the ends of his still-wet hair gave away what we’d just done, sending sparks swooping through me. I was damn near ready for another round. But I also enjoyed talking to him, and we’d had a nice chat over dinner.
“Tell me more about your company, and what it’s like working with your older brother,” I said.
As he talked about his work, and both the joys and pitfalls of working with a sibling, a realization landed front and center in my mind.
I liked him. A lot.
No, that wasn’t it. It was way more than like.
I was falling for Ryan Sloan. That was what the sparks in my belly were. They weren’t sex butterflies. They were falling for you butterflies.
Ryan set down his fork and cleared his throat. “So, there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you.”
My shoulders tensed instinctively. Nothing good ever came from those words. “You’re married?” I asked, panic seizing me. I wasn’t sure why that was the first thing that came to my mind. But I was sure something bad was about to come out of his mouth. Especially given where my own mind and heart had just gone.
He laughed and shook his head, and his response made me feel the tiniest bit better. “No. It’s about—”
But his words were cut off by a knock on the door. I stood up quickly. “It’s probably just a delivery or something. Dry cleaning maybe,” I said, and walked to the door. I peered through the peephole and beamed when I saw my brother.
I turned to Ryan as I opened the door. “Oh. You can meet John.”
Ryan’s face froze, and so did my brother’s when he made eye contact with the other man in the room.
Then John said my lover’s name like a hiss.
35
Sophie
“You two know each other?” I gestured from my brother to Ryan.
Ryan nodded as John said, “Yes.”
John went next, pointing to Ryan. “Why are you talking to my sister?” His voice was accusing. The tone was enough to send hackles up my spine.
I held up both hands. “Wait,” I said firmly. “Someone tell me what is going on.”
Ryan pushed back his chair, the wooden legs scraping loudly against the floor. “We know each other because he’s working on a case that involves my family.” He took long strides to me. “My father’s murder.”
I clasped my hand over my mouth. I shuddered, but then blinked when I realized something didn’t add up. “You said you were fourteen when he died?”
“I was,” Ryan said, standing a few feet from me. He pressed his fingers against his temple, speaking the next words as if they pained him. “He was shot in the driveway of our home one night. Both the gunman and my mother are in prison for the crime. The case was just reopened.”
My mouth fell open, and the earth ceased rotating as the enormity of his statement rocked through me. Slowly, I let each word sink in. That was a hell of a hand of cards to be dealt. I couldn’t even imagine what he’d gone through, living with that kind of tragedy.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” I said, reaching for him, stepping closer, my natural instinct to comfort surpassing all else.
He shook his head. “It’s okay,” Ryan mumbled, his body language telling me he didn’t want soothing.
“I had no idea,” I said softly.
“I’ve been trying to think of the right way to tell you, because I don’t really talk about it,” he said.
I was floored, but as I took it all in, I was starting to understand all his walls now—and oh hell, did he have them.
“We reopened the investigation a few weeks ago because of new evidence,” John added, stepping closer to me, flanking me, as if he needed to protect me from Ryan.
It suddenly seemed like I hardly knew the man I’d just spent the evening with. But then my mind galloped over the last several conversations I’d had with John. I spun to face my brother, adding up the clues. “This is the case you’ve been working on?”
He nodded. “One of them. One of the big ones.”
I turned my gaze back to Ryan, and for the first time ever, he didn’t look in control. He didn’t appear cool or confident or passionate. He seemed rattled, as if he’d been knocked out of orbit.
Something clicked in my head. “Hawthorne,” I said under my breath. “Is that why you went to Hawthorne?”
John cut in before Ryan could answer. “He visited his mother on Wednesday at Stella McLaren. He actually passed on some info to me later that day that may wind up being useful,” John said, a bit grudgingly, but still with some gratitude in his tone.
“You don’t do security for the prison, like you said?” I asked Ryan as I furrowed my brow. He’d lied. Maybe it was a small one, but it was still a lie.
He shook his head. “The prison’s not a client. I went there to see my mom. She’s been in since I was fourteen,” he said, his voice heavy, laced with shame and sadness.
I felt confused, overwhelmed, and . . . fooled. Ryan had always been mysterious, but now he felt like a stranger. I was grappling with the fact that I was finding out like this, from my brother, that my lover had this monumentally dark past, rather than him sharing it directly with me, as I’d done with him.
“I have a question, and it’s pretty important, as far as I can tell,” John said, cocking his head and staring at Ryan. “How long have you been involved with my sister?”
“Over a week. I met her the day I went to—”
“That’s why you were at the municipal building?” I asked, crossing my arms. “The day I met you? You were going to see my brother?”
“I didn’t know he was your brother then,” Ryan answered defensively. “I didn’t have a clue you two were connected. All I knew when I met you was that I wanted you.”
John cleared his throat. “I left my phone charger in the guest room. That’s why I stopped by. I’m going to get that right now,” he said, then stopped to look at me. “Unless you want me here in this room.”
I waved him down the hall. Once I heard the door to the guest room shut, I spoke. “When did you know the detective investigating your father’s case was my brother?”
He gulped. “When I looked you up before the gala,” he said, and my blood turned to ice. Now that I’d moved beyond the initial desire to comfort him, I felt . . . used.
“Did you pursue me to get close to the investigation?” I whispered, dreading the answer.
He shook his head several times. “No. No. No.”
That was a few too many noes for my taste. “Maybe a little?”
My Sinful Desire (Sinful Men Book 2) Page 15