He watched, transfixed, as his cock sank into her quivering body. With the fragrant evidence of sweet arousal leaking from her glorious pussy, he thrust and ground himself balls deep.
When he felt his orgasm building in every fiber of his being, Liam reached for her clit, felt his cock sliding in and out of her sexy body, and slowly rolled the juicy nub between his fingers.
She shattered with such force that her pussy convulsed violently, squeezing his cock so strongly that he was crying out.
“Oh fuck! Rhiann,” he roared, slamming into her again and again.
She let out a fierce yell that was so primitive, he lost control right then and there. Growling, grunting, and crying out, they crashed headlong into a mutual orgasm that was so wild and complete it deserved its own page, or at least a footnote, in the chronicles of human fucking.
IT WAS EITHER LATE OR early depending on your point of view when Rhiann stirred and slowly came awake. Starting to stretch while still cocooned in the warmth of the covers, she quickly winced and stopped what she was doing when every muscle in her body quivered.
Her mind’s eye flashed with the image of Liam going at her from behind. She thought about why that position had become necessary. Immediately, her body diagnostic revealed a still-tingling bottom.
Without conscious effort, her memory unleashed the hilarious moment when she’d discovered her sister, Brynn, with a very distinctive handprint visible on her bottom. Humph. It seemed the Wilde sisters got off on a bit of heavy-handed alpha spanking. She wondered if someday she’d find Charlie sporting a pink bottom, as well.
Speaking of heavy-handed alphas, she cracked open an eye and turned to look at Liam. Finding him fast asleep in the bed next to her, she almost jumped up and did a victory dance of delight.
Turning to her side offered a bit of relief for her poor bottom and gave her a chance to lay there quietly, hands tucked beneath her head, knees drawn up—while she stared at the beautiful man by her side.
With everything swirling around them still being about as fucked up as it could get, she was happy that at least this part of things were settled. He was in her bed where he damn well belonged, and she be damned if she’d let him get away from her ever again.
Almost eight years, an ocean of tears, and a cascade of truths and secrets that were now water under the bridge was enough, thanks. He’d cried when telling her about his unhappy entrance into the world and the long angry years that came after. She admitted to leading a double life. None of that—absolutely none of that mattered now that they found their way back to each other.
Not even crazy motherfucking Kim Icewater-in-her-Veins Walsh could come between them now. She’d kick some serious ass if anyone so much as tried.
Not that he’d ever allow that, either. She’d seen the look of undisguised pleasure and macho chest thumping satisfaction on his face when she’d confessed to being a one-man woman. Now that he knew, she didn’t doubt he’d move heaven and earth to keep it that way.
Alphas. So possessive, she thought with a smile. Damn, but it was good to be on the receiving end of that emotion. Belonging to Liam Ashforth had been her secret desire all these years, and she intended to enjoy the living shit out of his controlling ways. Spankings and all.
Her bladder, though, voted with an urgent call to creep quietly from the big bed and sent her scurrying for the bathroom. When her bare bottom hit the cold toilet seat, she groaned from the cooling sensation and the stinging ache of Mr. Bad Boy’s sexy punishment.
When she was finished, Rhiann turned on the water in the sink, washed her hands, and set about splashing water on her face for a quick refresh. Straightening, with water dripping down her chest, she literally stuttered to a halt from what she found in the mirror.
Oh, my, my, she wondered silently. So that was what an alpha’s teeth marks looked like. Everywhere, love bites were scattered across her chest. And her neck? Shit. Looked like she’d been mauled. Or branded. Or both.
Sighing dreamily, because it was impossible not to take delight in every single mark he’d left on her flesh, Rhiann went in search of the robe she’d stripped off earlier.
Slipping it on, she tied the sash and stood silently at the foot of the bed to drink in the sleeping giant who took up more than half the mattress and most of the covers.
A quick glance at the bedside clock confirmed the time. Which did 4:15 AM qualify for? Late night or early morning?
Awake, and very much aware that a replay of their provocative coupling was what she really wanted, Rhiann could see that wasn’t going to happen. Not at the moment anyway, so she’d just have to do the next best thing. Write.
Oh, this was good, really good, she snickered, about ninety minutes later. Hunched over her laptop, earbuds in while she listened to some calming spa music, her fingers moved rapidly on the keyboard.
Had enough yet, darlin’? Ready to admit what you did was wrong?
I’m sorry, she sniffed. Sorry, I said what I did, but . . .
There are no buts.
Whack! His open hand landed on her bare ass. Whack again, and again, until biting her lip to keep from crying out, she felt tears rolling down her cheeks.
Look at me, he demanded gruffly. Why are you crying? Is it because you want me to stop or because you know you were wrong and just won’t say so.
I . . . I, she mumbled. I don’t want you to stop.
She was a trembling mess, but she couldn’t remember if she’d ever been this turned on before.
And?
I was wrong, she admitted sullenly, sure that he’d make her stand up now.
His big hand caressed her ass, squeezing each inflamed cheek until she groaned out loud.
That was because you have a smart mouth. This is because a good spanking reminds you who’s in charge.
Whack!
Two hands slid over her shoulders and wrapped gently around her neck. Rhiann tilted her head back and looked up into Liam’s steely gaze. She’d been so lost in the scene she was writing that she hadn’t heard his approach. Not that she would have anyway. Not her stealthy jungle cat and especially not since she had her earbuds in.
How long had he been standing there? Had he been reading what she wrote? A fast blush crept up her chest and heated her cheeks.
If his hooded expression was any indication, he most certainly had. With a gentle tightening of his hands, he caressed her neck—then slid one hand into the opening of her robe to fondle a breast.
Her mouth opened on a shallow gasp when he tugged her nipple. Releasing his grip on her neck, he reached out, hit save, and pushed the laptop closed. Still rolling and pinching her sensitive nipple, her pulled out the earbuds then quickly stooped and sucked one of her earlobes into his mouth.
She reached up and wrapped a hand around his nape then speared her fingers across the back of his head.
“Does your bottom still hurt?”
“A little,” she murmured as she stared at his mouth and tried to wish it on to hers.
“Too much to take it for a ride?”
A ride? What was he talking about? Rhiann frowned and tried to figure out what was on his mind when he switched to the other breast. Groaning, she sighed, “Kiss me,” as he lowered to her mouth.
Just before their lips touched, he murmured, “Fuck me.”
Then he kissed her and kissed her and kissed her until she was shaking and clutching at his head.
Swinging her around, Liam pulled Rhiann from the chair, their mouths still fused together. Tearing off her robe, it fell to the floor as he pulled her against his naked body. Knowing Roman might walk up the stairs at any moment, no matter how unlikely that actually was at this early hour, shook her up.
When he scooped her up by her ass, she winced at the contact but spread her legs and wrapped them securely around his hips. Wasting no time, Liam casually walked with her plastered to his front, both of them gloriously naked, and headed back to the bedroom.
Dropping on the bed, he took
the brunt of the fall with her landing astride him. When she got the gist of what he meant by going for a ride, she hurriedly reached for a condom, ripped the foil packet open with shaking hands and lovingly rolled it down his hardened staff.
“Help me,” she whimpered and he did, lifting her up while guiding his cock into position. As she lowered onto him, he arched slightly and groaned. Well pleased once she managed to take all of him, she rolled her hips as a test, moaned aloud when the fullness stole her breath and simply let instinct take over.
Much later after riding them both to a thundering climax, she collapsed on his chest while he slowly stroked her back and caressed her still quivering bottom.
“You ride beautifully, my love,” he whispered in her ear. She wiggled against him and sighed. “And if what you wrote is any indication of what your stories are like, you and I are going to have a little talk about what you can share and what stays private.”
She smiled into his neck and let the warm afterglow of their intense lovemaking lull her back to sleep.
When they left the bedroom a couple of hours later, after a particularly energetic shower session, Rhiann could barely walk. She was shocked to discover it actually was possible to fuck so hard and so deep that she struggled to put one foot in front of the other.
And Liam’s wicked leer let her know he was pretty damn pleased with himself. Looking at it from his point of view, it was kind of cool—that whole, fucked her into submission thing. Frankly, he should be pleased.
Roman was in the middle of making what looked like a gargantuan pile of bacon while taking occasional slugs of what she knew was the blackest of black sludge coffees from a mug with an OBX logo.
Rhiann immediately spied her slinky robe draped over a high-backed stool at the kitchen counter and blushed profusely. Dammit. Having a smart flirtatious manner was one thing—leaving around evidence of what they’d been up to was another and so not her style.
Shooting Liam an irritated look; it was his fault, after all, that her robe had been left on the floor for Roman to find, she only kept from snapping some pithy comment at him because he looked as put out as she felt.
At their approach, Roman glanced over his shoulder at them and grinned. Maybe it was that they were holding hands or maybe it was because they came sauntering out of the same room. Or maybe, and she silently groaned at the thought, he’d heard her husky screams echoing off the shower room walls.
A bit of silent eyeball communication arced between the beefy bodyguard and her scowling lover that she couldn’t interpret. Just as well. She didn’t need to know or understand Liam’s every thought. There was so much shit going on in the man’s head that she preferred to focus on the times when the noise quieted and the real man inside the image emerged.
“Meat lover’s breakfast,” Roman announced with a smirk.
Never one to ignore innuendo or overlook a well-placed sexual reference, Rhiann practically choked on the laughter she tried to keep inside. Only Liam’s sulky frown kept her from engaging in some lighthearted naughty banter.
“Morning Ro-Macho,” she joked.
“That’s a new one, Princess,” Roman chuckled. “How long have you been working on that?”
“Eh, you know me. It went through several revisions before settling. Not too snarky, not too eye roll inducing. It’s good, though—don’t you think?”
His deep snicker let her know he enjoyed the jest. While he certainly exuded the sort of fuck-with-me-at-your-own-peril vibe that served him well, considering what he did for a living, Roman also had a splendid sense of humor and an eye for the absurd that was a delight.
“Gonna have to change my fucking ringtone,” he grumbled with a smile.
“Oooh, Let me! Let me!” she cried, clapping her hands with excitement. “I know the perfect Justin Bieber song . . .”
“No way, Snarks-a-Lot!” he teased. “You want me to get my ass kicked?”
Liam’s amused snort made her happy. Something a little less intimidating was slowly replacing half his normal scowl.
Plopping a platter piled with the crispy bacon on the counter, he suggested they grab some plates and some coffee and head on over to the table.
When they were all seated and Roman’s impressive array of crazy breakfast meat was displayed, Rhiann groaned and mimed the heart attack waiting for both men if this was the way they ate every morning.
“Bacon. Sausage. A mountain of fluffy scrambled eggs. Something that looks suspiciously like wallpaper paste and a basket of warm biscuits. Are you trying to make me fat?” she pouted.
“Don’t answer that, Boss,” Roman taunted. “She’s fishing. Do yourself a favor and say something awesome about her ass if you want to keep the peace.”
Liam’s choking sputter of a mouthful of hot coffee at the mention of her ass had her pounding him on the back.
“My ass is not up for discussion,” she jeered. For good measure, she rubbed the body part with an exaggerated swipe, earning her a meaningful leer.
“So, what’s on the agenda today, kids? We seem to be in a sort of crazy bitch lull at the moment so all suggestions are welcome.”
“We’re going shopping!” Rhiann announced with impish glee.
Liam’s head swiveled to look at her with an amused expression. “We are?”
“Yep, yep,” she sing-songed while piling her plate full of forbidden breakfast indulgence. “Time to drop the maître d’ look,” she told him with a wink. “You stick out like a Secret Service agent at Coachella.”
Roman practically busted a gut with laughter.
“Awww, you two are so fucking cute,” he jested. “Letting her dress you now, huh?” he snarked at Liam.
“Suck my dick, Bishop.”
“Hey!” Rhiann squealed with a punch to Liam’s shoulder. “I told you. No sharing.”
Roman’s roar of laughter brought out her man’s scowl as he dropped his head into his hands and groaned.
“Rhiann, Jesus. That mouth of yours.”
“What?” she asked innocently. “No good?”
“We really need to discuss the privacy thing.”
She grinned and stuck her tongue out at him, which had him immediately grabbing her around the neck and diving onto her mouth where he pretty much took control of her naughty tongue.
When he was finished demonstrating who was the boss, he released her and sat back muttering darkly about her lack of decorum.
The rest of their shared breakfast took a businesslike turn as the men discussed the latest news and information with Roman informing them that yet another blind item was making the rounds. This time, however, the insinuation was being made that a certain CEO was getting busy between the sheets with his CFO.
The reminder that Liam had been intimate with that woman did not sit well with Rhiann. Her appetite effectively gone, she stood from the table and walked her plate to the sink.
Avoiding both sets of watchful eyes, she murmured something about needing to get dressed to go out and ran from the room.
Last thing she had heard before the bedroom door closed was Liam snarling, “Are you out of your fucking mind, dude?”
Okay, there was no way to research how to explain his past behavior in a way that would satisfy Rhiann, so Liam just sucked it up and hoped he didn’t make things worse.
He waited a pretty good length of time before following her into the bedroom. Not because he was afraid, but because Roman had quite a bit more to say. They agreed not to share anything about a new picture off Rhiann’s stolen memory card that Marjorie was furious over. This one showed a younger Liam, asleep, covered from the hips down by a ratty looking blanket. Thankfully, he was on his stomach but the placement of the blanket exposed half his butt and only barely hid the crown jewels. Someone was not going to be pleased.
WHEN HE ENTERED THE BEDROOM, the first thing he noticed was the half-assed way the bed was made. If they went at each other every day the way they had yesterday, they were going to need a surplus of l
inens.
The next thing he saw was Rhiann as she came from the walk-in wearing a pair of jeans that emptied his brain of thought. Since she wore mostly dresses and skirts due to her love affair with shoes, he hadn’t seen her in anything else, except the baggy sweats she wore the day he arrived. Sneakers, yes. She always had a pair nearby for traipsing through the city streets but the jeans? Uh-uh. Not since she was a coed.
By the looks of the well-worn denim, they probably fit a bit on the loose side but as he’d already noted, the weight she put on gave her a healthy glow and filled out her already deadly curves. In jeans—those curves should be declared illegal.
“Get dressed,” she snapped. “We leave in twenty minutes.”
Oh, boy. Liam already recognized that tone. He was on borrowed time when he heard it.
“Rhiann. Come here,” he said with his hand extended. He could have just scooped her up and forced her to sit on his lap, but he wanted her to have a choice. Used to getting his own way, he was really making an effort to check the arrogant CEO at the door and just be . . . him.
She glared at him as she fastened a pair of small dangling pearls at her ears. The heart that hung around her neck seemed to mock him until he noticed that her critical glare had a distinctive forlorn edge to it. Shit.
She didn’t come to him right away and instead stood her ground, arms crossed with a pouty expression.
“No.”
“You know damn well I can make you—but I’d prefer you did it because you wanted to. Isn’t this part of all that . . .” he waved his hand for emphasis, “relationship crap? The talking? No more secrets and make-believe. Right?”
The glare deepened. He’d call that a direct hit. But what worried him more was the doleful look in her eyes.
Holding his hand out again, he murmured, “Please.”
Her exasperated, “Oh, okay,” broke the stalemate as she reached for his hand.
Pulling her to one of the armchairs, he sat and placed her gently on his lap. Reaching to push a wayward curl from her neck, he tried a reassuring smile on for size and just about crumpled when he saw her lip quiver.
Wilde Heart (Wilde Women Book 2) Page 34