by Julia Devlin
“I warned you, Juliet. Told you how it would be,” he said, his voice angry now. “I will not let you run from me. And the truth is you don’t want me to let you.”
I swallowed hard, my nails digging into his forearm. “I need space.”
He nipped my neck. Goose bumps popped over my arms as his teeth scraped my skin. “If I let you go right now, you’d hate it. Nothing would disappoint you more than if I gave you space.”
My whole being went still. God, he was right.
As much as I wanted to get away, as much as the fear swirled inside me, if he let me go right now, I’d be crushed. Twin tears slid down my cheeks and I brushed them away.
“I have a theory,” he said against my hair. “If you give in, let yourself go, embrace the storm like you did that day from your photo, each time you do, it will scare you less. Maybe it’s so hard for you, not because you feel so deeply but because you fight it.”
I went limp in his arms, suddenly too tired to fight. Not even pretending to want to anymore. He wouldn’t let me go. And I didn’t want him to.
“Come back to bed, my lovely Juliet.”
“I hate you,” I said with no real heat. The opposite word to the one hovering around the edges of my mind. I rested my head on his shoulder.
“I know you do.” I felt him smile again, and I relaxed.
He understood.
Chapter Eight
Christos laid me on the bed, my head resting on the fluffy down pillow. “No more talking, Juliet,” he whispered over my rapidly heating skin. “Just let me love you.”
I tensed at the word before I could stop it. Although I knew he felt it under his hands, he didn’t pause or stumble or stop. Instead, he brushed back the edges of my torn blouse and swept it from my shoulders, taking the straps of my bra with him.
Lips, soft but sure, trailed down my neck. His tongue flicked over my pounding pulse before he sucked the delicate flesh there and his teeth scraped over my skin. I braced my hands on his broad, capable shoulders.
Muscles bunched under my touch as he shifted down my body, kissing the hollow of my neck, brushing his mouth over my collarbones and down my chest. This wasn’t like the last time, it wasn’t full of frantic urgency, but the power of his passion for me, my passion for him scented the air around us.
His lips traveled over the curve of my breasts and he licked my beaded nipple. I inhaled deeply, arousal and sex spilling from his every pore. His fingers stroked my other nipple while he sucked the hard bud into his mouth. I cried out, nails digging into his shoulders at the dual sensation.
With every pull of his mouth, with every twist of his fingers, my cunt filled with a wet heat that took my breath away. My clit pulsed. My hips started to move, the pleasure so keen I tried to twist away. But of course he didn’t let me.
His legs covered me, trapping me beneath him. While his lips tormented my breast and his knuckles danced over my exposed nipple, he pried one of my hands off his shoulders and twined our fingers together, resting our clasped hands next to my head. I clutched at him, sweat beading at my hairline and trickling down my spine as need coiled deep inside me.
Teeth gently bit down on my nipple and I moaned. My hips sought the pressure and friction that would bring me the release I was now desperate for. A low growl filled the air and vibrated over my skin in a rush.
His skin heated under my palm. I gripped his hand so tightly my fingers started to ache, but I couldn’t let go. The orgasm building inside me scared me, but despite my fear, I sought it, my body craving the release and Christos too fiercely to be denied. I bucked against his thigh, frustration rearing up when the pull of my skirt got in the way of what I wanted.
Suddenly, I needed to be skin to skin. I needed him covering me, over me, possessing me. Filling me up, overpowering me in the way only he could. But I didn’t know how to voice my desire and all I could manage was a desperate, “Please, oh please.”
Cool air hit my wet nipple as he lifted his head and stared into my face, green eyes filled with lust and greed that made me shiver searched my expression. “What do you need, my Juliet?”
I licked my dry lips. “You.”
“I am yours.” His mouth covered mine, kissing me soul-deep.
Our tongues met and twined together as tightly as our fingers. It seemed as if electricity flowed from our palms and met in that tiny space in the middle of our hands, connecting us both physically and mentally.
It went on and on until I thought we’d never come up for air. Until we were both panting for breath, sweat slicked our skin, and the energy between our joined hands built into something tangible.
Finally our mouths parted and his tongue flicked over my swollen bottom lip. “I have to let go now, Juliet.”
My fingers tightened automatically.
“But only for a moment.” His gaze swept down my body. “Only to get us naked.”
I blinked, my throat going tight. The strength of my need must have been shining in my face, all my rampant, violent emotion must show in my eyes. I knew this. Could feel it reflected back at me. And still I couldn’t look away. I nodded, and with great reluctance let him go.
He shifted to a kneeling position, reaching under me to undo the button and zipper of my skirt.
My gaze drifted to where his jeans dipped down, he’d never re-done them from our mad, frantic fucking in the foyer. His cock jutted out from the vee of the zipper, and I stared. I had no idea when he’d gotten rid of the condom he’d worn, but he stood naked and proud before me.
Suddenly, I wanted to taste him. Lick him. My mouth actually watered looking at his hard length, the almost angry color of his arousal. I needed it. Needed to feel him on my tongue, feel his heat in my mouth.
Faster than I knew I was capable of moving, I sat up, shimmying out of my skirt and panties on my way back down.
He must have realized my intentions because he said, “Juliet, wait, that’s not—”
My tongue circled the plump head and his hand shot into my hair. “Jesus Christ,” he hissed.
Delicious. Salty. His skin satin smooth under my lips, I moaned and took the head into my mouth.
“That’s… No… Wait… Fuck… Juliet.” He sounded desperate, and for the first time since he’d started his pursuit, I experienced a sense of my own power.
I was making Christos Constantine speechless. Enraptured by the very idea, I pulled his cock deeper, swirling my tongue around the sensitive head, pressing against that soft place on the underside, intent on driving him crazy.
His fingers tightened on my head, at the nape of my neck. I wasn’t sure if to pull me away or push me closer. I took the decision out of his hands and sank another inch down his shaft and sucked.
He groaned, his hips thrusting.
I created a tight suction with my lips and moved up and down in a slow, torturous rhythm.
“Jesus, that mouth.” His voice was reverent.
My cunt actually convulsed at his words. He suddenly fisted my hair and pulled me away. My lips left him with a pop, and I glared up at him, not wanting to be denied.
His expression startled me and my heart turned over in my chest. His face had darkened, the angles of his cheekbones taking on a harsh, predatory quality.
Fear and anticipation prickled over my skin. I had only myself to blame. Hadn’t this been exactly what I was after? Hadn’t I wanted to bring this out? And right then I admitted that with Christos I wanted the raw, volatile emotions, wanted the brutality. Craved it as nothing I’d ever craved in my life.
He was the storm, and this time I wasn’t going to wait it out in my car. I was going to step right out in the open and let it sweep me away.
He released his hold on my head and gripped my shoulders, pushing me back against the blood-red comforter and pillows as if I were some virgin sacrifice. He stripped away the rest of his clothing, stopping only to pull a couple of condoms out of his pocket. Never taking his eyes from me, he tossed one on the table.
> He took the other and put it in his teeth before taking both my knees in his strong hands and pushing them apart. Something intangible filled the air between us—that sense of calm before the storm when the trees turn still, the sky darkens and the world goes silent. That’s what filled my bedroom.
I shuddered under his touch. He tore the condom package open with his teeth before rolling it over his straining erection.
I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly bone-dry. He filled the space between my splayed thighs and I tensed in preparation of his entry. But it didn’t come.
Instead he ran his hands over my breasts, scraping his knuckles up and down my nipples, down over ribs to my stomach and hips. He traced a path over the swollen, needy wet slit and I cried out. Hand firm on my hip, holding me in place, he circled my clit. A sharp burst of pleasure had my lashes fluttering closed.
He shook his head. “Keep them open and on me.”
Lids snapping open, I met his gaze.
His fingers glided over my skin.
I was so wet.
Again he circled the small bundle of nerves at the juncture of my thighs, and then he squeezed. I jolted, levering off the bed, digging my heels into the comforter.
He smiled then, so wicked and carnal I lost my breath. “I am going to fuck you now,” he said almost conversationally.
I nodded. He squeezed again, rolling his thumb and forefinger. I cried out, pushing my head onto the pillow. “Oh god.”
“I’m going to pound into you.” Another squeeze that spiked such a hard, fevered need I would have done anything in that moment for relief. “I’m going to take you hard, vicious, brutal.”
“Yes,” I panted. I started to crest, an orgasm barreling fast and furiously on me, but then he pressed the heel of his palm hard against my clit and the sensation faded, leaving behind an ache so acute it was almost unbearable.
He positioned his cock at the entrance of my cunt and leaned over me, once again lacing our fingers tightly together. Our faces inches apart, he looked down at me. “You’re not to look away, do you understand, Juliet?”
He couldn’t have asked anything harder. I was already at the height of sensation, the height of vulnerability—how could he ask me for something so hard?
Again that slow buzz of electricity filled the center of our palms, connecting us.
He kissed my lips, licking along the seam, never taking his eyes off me. “I promise I will catch you.”
With that promise, I nodded. How did he manage to make me feel so frightened and so safe at the same time? “All right, Christos.”
He squeezed our joined hands. “Do you feel that?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
“Have you ever?”
“No.” I shook my head.
“You are the only one, Juliet.” And before I could respond, he filled me so completely I gasped with the shock of it.
He didn’t look away and neither did I.
He rolled his hips, pushing hard into me, his pelvis rocking against my clit on the upstroke. I raised my legs and wrapped them around his waist, holding him close with my thighs.
He growled. A low, guttural sound that made my nipples pull tight. His chest brushed across the sensitive buds as he picked up his rhythm.
His cock dragged along the flesh of my inner walls, going faster and harder, still rolling into me. Somehow managing to stroke my cunt, my clit and my nipples at the same time. I cried out, I wanted nothing more than to close my eyes and sink into the comfort of hiding, but his gaze held me. The electricity sparking between our joined palms anchored me so I could do nothing but ride out the storm.
My breath came fast as the steep climb grew inside me.
Sex and need and lust filled the air as he took me, pounding into me so hard the headboard slammed against the wall.
Our bodies ground together as though we couldn’t get close enough.
It was a brutal joining made all the more intense by our eye contact. The noises we made would embarrass me later, but now it was so animalistic, so raw, filled with so much power I could only revel in it.
My fingers tightened on his, and I pounded my fist into his back as I climbed higher and higher. Oh god, this need would overtake me.
The bed seemed to have taken on the rhythm of our straining bodies. We were slick with sweat. Mad with desire. Demanding in our lust.
Release hovered right out of my reach, the crest so high it frightened me. Something like this, it had to hurt, had to be crushing.
I started to fight it.
The tide of emotion. The pleasure spiraling out of control inside me. All the elements in the room. His body over mine. Inside me. The sound of the bed shaking the walls and the floor beneath us. The damp, hot sheen that clung to my skin.
It was all too much. Surely this would kill me.
He held me to him with his hand, his gaze and his body. With one brutal thrust, his pelvic bone hitting my clit, his chest abrading my nipples, his cock buried to my womb, the storm broke and the orgasm poured down on me. The pleasure so intense, for the first time in my life, I screamed in the throes of my climax.
As the powerful contractions racked my body, I clung desperately to his gaze, clutching his hand while I rode out the storm of my life. And while he anchored me to him, catching me just as he promised, he thrust inside me once, twice, three times, setting off another wave of vicious contractions, making my cunt ripple along his cock.
With a roar that vibrated the walls, Christos came. He pumped inside me over and over, drawing my orgasm out with wave after wave of contractions.
Finally, the last of the most intense climax of my life faded away and my heart rate began to slow, my breath began to ease. He brushed my wet hair from my face, his hips going still, his body gentling.
As I cooled and sanity returned, I waited for the embarrassment. What I’d done with him, it hadn’t been pretty. It wasn’t sweet, romantic movie sex. No, this was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. This sex had been hot and wild and messy.
But strangely, the embarrassment didn’t come.
The haze of lust cleared from my vision and he snapped into a crystal-clear focus. Light danced in his green eyes, and something else gleamed there too, some sort of hidden inner knowledge. I searched his expression and knew he waited patiently for me to understand too.
Our joined hands tingled and I finally understood what I’d been craving so desperately earlier, and why I fought so desperately against him. I’d recognized him the moment I’d met him and I’d been running from the truth ever since.
It came over me like a rush, the understanding as fierce as my orgasm had been. We were two sides of the same coin, one unable to exist without the other. Predator and prey, dominant and submissive, the taker and the taken—it didn’t really matter what I called it. The roles were established.
I couldn’t speak the words. They lodged in my throat, holding back all the emotions rolling inside me. But I silently acknowledged the truth—Christos and I, we wanted the same thing—his complete and total possession of me.
Chapter Nine
I tugged at my seat belt and stared pensively out the front window of Christos’ Mercedes. “Are you sure about this?” I asked him for the hundredth time.
He smoothed a palm over my knee, the heat of his hand warming my skin even through my white cotton pants. “I’m sure, Juliet.” He pulled to a stop at the light and leaned over to kiss the side of my neck. “They will love you.”
I bit the inside of my cheek. How had I let him talk me into this? I hadn’t met a man’s family since my ex-husband’s, and here I was, after one night, on my way to meet Christos’.
“It’s a lot of pressure.” Didn’t he understand the seriousness of the step he was taking? He’d never brought anyone home. And now he was showing up with me? Their expectations had to be sky-high.
He slid his palm around the back of my neck, kneading a spot with his thumb as the light turned green and he stepped o
n the gas. “No pressure. It’s a simple party. We eat. We drink. We talk. I’ve seen you do that a million times and you’re quite charming.”
“That’s different!” I insisted, once again gearing up for the argument I’d been making all day.
“I know.” He squeezed the nape of my neck. “And I’m reminding you—you’re good at this. You know how to talk to people, how to make small talk and polite conversation.”
“I’m good at business talk.” I crossed my hands over my chest. “Do you think your parents want to discuss corporate restructuring?”
“My parents will be so thrilled you’re there, they won’t care if you sit in the corner and don’t say a word.”
“That would make a great impression,” I said with considerable sarcasm.
He laughed and I sighed, turning to stare out the window as we drove down the congested River North streets. Of course he was right. I was making a big deal out of nothing. I did small talk with the best of them, but this was different.
Everything about Christos was new. For almost two years I’d been viewing him as a threat, an adversary. Now, barely forty-eight hours later, I was meeting his family. The drastic swing of our relationship was giving me whiplash.
Last night had been like a dream, a fantasy come to life. We’d slept. Talked about everything and nothing. I relaxed around him for the first time since I’d met him. He made me laugh. He’d let me take pictures of him despite his protests, charming me with the look of horror he’d given me when I’d taken out the camera. At one in the morning we’d ordered pizza and devoured it as though we’d never seen food before. Then we’d gone at it as if we’d never touched, as if we hadn’t had wild, passionate sex numerous times already. Unable to make the trip upstairs to my bedroom, he fucked me on the kitchen table until I was once again screaming his name in ecstasy.
It was hands-down one of the best nights of my life, and when we’d finally gone to bed for good, I’d slept like a baby.
But as soon as we’d woken, I’d started waiting for the other shoe to drop. That the world hadn’t crashed around me made me almost more nervous than if it had. Now I was on my way to his parents’ house and I had no idea what to do with myself or the panic jumping around in my belly.