Man (Seven Forbidden Arts Book 9)

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Man (Seven Forbidden Arts Book 9) Page 18

by Charmaine Pauls


  “Olivia.” He said her name in a commanding way, leaving no room for confusion as to what he wanted.

  The mask obscured her expression, but the beautifully carved muscles of her narrow shoulders turned rigid. Her body tightened. Damn her. She was going to make a run for it again. They regarded each other, the prey measuring the hunter. The feathers of her skirt quivered and her chest heaved. He took his stance, ready to chase. Both broke into a sprint. The hunt chased through his veins, pumping adrenaline into his blood and driving him as mad as a rabid wolf closing in on a helpless rabbit.

  She was his. The thought came from nowhere and everywhere, as if it had always been dormant in his mind.

  In a few flat-out strides, he’d caught up with her. He was breathing down her neck, so close the feathers of the headpiece ruffled. One more step and he reached out, catching the small diameter of her upper arm. The momentum almost flung her off her feet. He gripped her waist to steady her, using his leverage to fling her backward, his arms protecting her back from the impact with the brick wall. She ducked, but he’d already caged her in with his hands next to her face on the wall, pinning her with his body. They both breathed hard. The heat of the cement warmed his palms. The rough texture of the bricks bit into his skin. He silently demanded her gaze, and she didn’t avert her eyes.

  Mine.

  The word was on the tip of his tongue. It was trapped between them, in the way his body possessively held hers captive. She was hot against him, her heat searing his clothes. Her golden skin shone with perspiration. He tilted his hips forward, finding the soft place between her legs. The slickness of her run-drenched skin slipped over him. He dropped one hand to run it along her side, tracing her ribs and the smooth curve of her hip.

  His fingers dug into her flesh. “Don’t ever run from me again.”

  The feathers that decorated her mask quivered. With every inhale, her breasts pushed against his chest. His hand slipped down to her ass, cupping the curve. He wanted to wipe the other man’s touch away, even if it was only a random touch that lasted a fleeting second.

  “Give me what I want,” he growled.

  Her reply came softly. “What do you want, Cain?”

  Her. This. His hips digging into hers. His cock sinking into her body.

  His head screamed for reason. Answers. Secrets. Information. But the demands of his body were more urgent. It was futile denying what he really wanted, any longer.

  Lowering his head, he caught her earlobe between his teeth. He gave a nip. “Everything. I want everything.”

  He didn’t hesitate to take it. The wait had been too long, too excruciating. It didn’t matter that they were in an alley in broad daylight where anyone could walk in on them. It didn’t matter that she had a ring on her finger or that the ring made her his enemy’s wife. He was drunk on the moment, drunk on her slick skin, her frightened eyes, and the quick pants of her breath that burned through his shirt. He worked his zipper open with one hand. The other kept a tight grip on her hip. She kept his gaze as he freed his cock and lifted her thigh around his waist. The position forced her to go on tiptoe. He brushed the strings of boa feathers that formed her skirt aside. Fever consumed him as he aligned his aching dick with her folds. She’d taken that step. She’d come to him when he’d asked. She didn’t say no, now, didn’t push him away or falter, so he took her in one, hard, greedy thrust, burying himself inside her as deep as he could go. She cried out, her head rolling back against the wall.

  Hot. Tight. “Jesus, Olivia.”

  It was every wrong in every book that had ever been written on morals, but he couldn’t make himself feel guilt or regret. His free hand went behind her body to protect her naked back from the rough surface. He eased out and shoved back in, the force shifting her up the wall. He gripped her thigh harder and jerked her closer, making her take all of him.

  He couldn’t hold back, any longer. As if sensing his breaking point, she grabbed hold of his shoulders for support. As he pounded into her, her teeth sank into her bottom lip, but it didn’t prevent her whimpers from escaping. Her breasts and beads jostled from the impact, but he couldn’t stop. There was no turning back. They’d both chosen this road without exchanging one, sweet word. Abstaining from one another had only postponed the inevitable. This was always going to happen.

  He tilted his hips up, going deeper and faster. More. He wanted it all. Letting go of her hip, he ripped the mask from her face, exposing her gorgeous features. Her cheeks were flushed and her lip red where she’d bitten it.

  Faster. Harder.

  A tortured expression replaced the serene indifference of the mask. Her breath caught with every thrust, leaving her mouth slightly agape. Goddammit, he was fucking the air right out of her lungs.

  “Too hard?”

  He tried to calm his body enough to slow down, but she shook her head and fisted her hands in his hair.

  “Don’t stop,” she moaned.

  It was all the permission he needed. He fucked her like the rabid wolf she brought out in him, stamping his possession on her in the most carnal way possible. His climax was near. He moved a hand down her sweat-slicked body, finding her clit. Without breaking his pace, he massaged her sweet spot with his thumb, applying enough pressure to make her need meet his. Fast. Her inner muscles clenched down on his cock with a deliciously tight grip. The pressure was enough to send him over the edge. Heat exploded in his balls and traveled up his spine. Coming with a strangled cry, he emptied himself inside her.

  Her orgasm was drawn-out and intense. Her muscles didn’t stop clenching until his seed was seeping around his cock down her thighs. He stayed inside her, caressing her breasts and kissing her lips until her body went limp. Only then did he pull out and let her to her feet.

  She slumped back against the wall, her eyes closed and perspiration shining on her face. The shock of what had happened set into his heart with a heavy thud. He’d taken her like an animal, like a beast with no control.

  Removing a handkerchief from his pocket, he cleaned between her legs before straightening the feather skirt and arranging the beads to cover her breasts. He brushed back her hair with his fingers and bent to pick up the mask. When he straightened, he found her eyes trained on him in the most disconcerting way. The intensity of her stare froze him for a moment. What had he done? He’d crossed the line he’d vowed he wouldn’t. A fleeting second of shame for his lack of control coursed through him, but there was no regret. He’d never be sorry for being inside her.

  He pushed away the emotions and allowed his never-failing actions to rule, fitting the mask on her face with unfaltering fingers. He hated not to see her face, but it was best to protect her identity. Clasping her hand tightly, he led her back into the current of swaying bodies and music. Once more, they were swallowed by a sea of nameless faces in masks and swept along a current of decadence and sweet sin. At a street bar, he stopped and ordered two Caipirinhas. The only space left was standing at a high cocktail table on the pavement.

  Her arm muscles flexed as she accepted the drink. “Strong liquor?”

  Yeah, it was out of character for him, as was what had happened in the alley. “Drink. We need it.”

  They were both shaken, even if their demeanors were too well trained to give anything away. There was a slight tremble to her fingers as she brought the plastic cup to her lips. She tipped her head back and swallowed. She even made the simple act of drinking look graceful. His emotions fought back to the surface. His body heated with more than physical arousal. Something more powerful than the lust coursing through his veins filled his chest. He wet his dry mouth with the liquid, letting the sweet-tangy taste soothe his throat. When the worst of his thirst was abated, he set his cup aside.

  Olivia regarded him with wary acceptance as he eliminated the small measure of space he’d allowed her to find her balance. Putting his body flush against hers, he cupped her face and tilted it for better access to her mouth. Her lips were cool. Her tongue tasted like l
ime and sugar. He drank her in, kissing her with a languid pace that was in direct contrast with how he’d fucked her. She folded her arms around his neck, balancing the cup at his nape, and answered the kiss with her own measure of sweetness. Unhurriedly, they explored each other’s mouths, doing the dance of seduction in reverse with foreplay after the sex.

  Damn, the way she kissed was hot. She was scorching him, branding herself on his heart. Her husky moans drowned out the drums. The way her hips sashayed against his was rawer than the most carnal samba. His dick was already rock hard again, but this wasn’t about fucking. This was a deep-seated need to get to know her body as well as he was getting to know her heart.

  After a long time, he broke the kiss. He took a sip of his drink and lowered his head to hers, angling his lips over her mouth. When she parted for him, he let the alcohol slip onto her tongue. She swallowed. Good girl. Taking his cue, she repeated the action, feeding him from her cup. Yes, goddamn. He wanted to share everything with her, not just a sip of his drink and this stolen moment in a guilt-free setup.

  She pulled back and wiped a finger over her lips to catch a stray drop. “What now?”

  What now? Where do they go from here? The long-term future wasn’t simple, but the answer to her question was. “Now we get a room.”

  Chapter 12

  “Did you hear nothing I said?” Olivia asked.

  Wisps of hair had escaped the mask, feathering over her temples. Her eyes flashed with annoyance, but underneath the anger there was fear.

  Cain couldn’t resist brushing his fingers over the soft skin of her cheek. “I heard you fine.”

  “You have little time. Godfrey said he’d be back tonight, but that doesn’t mean he’s not watching me as we speak.”

  “If he was watching you, he’d be trying to kill me, right now.”

  “True.” She pulled away from his touch. “It’s not too late. You should get away while you can.”

  “And let you take care of him?” He leaned closer, worry morphing into exasperation. “Tell me, how are you planning on doing it?”

  She looked around. “Not here.”

  She was right. This wasn’t a subject to be discussed in the street, but she made him lose all reason when she proposed risking herself in that way. He glanced toward the rooms upstairs. They wouldn’t be luxurious, but the place looked clean.

  Leaving a bill on the table, he took her hand and pulled her behind him to the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  He shot her a look from over his shoulder. “We’re going upstairs.”

  She followed his gaze from a moment ago and froze. “I’m not going to a hotel with you.”

  He paused when she kicked in her heels.

  “It’s not safe to go back to your house,” he said.

  Godfrey might be waiting, but for once something was more important than catching his enemy. This was. She was.

  “Which is why I should get back.”

  “In a moment. You said we have until tonight.”

  “I don’t want to take a risk. If he finds me––”

  “I’m not leaving you like this.”

  She gave him her obstinate look. “Like what?”

  “Fucked against a wall with my semen drying on your thighs.”

  The part of her cheeks that showed under the mask flushed. “Thanks for your concern, but––”

  “No more buts.”

  Not giving her a chance to reply, he entered the hotel bar with Olivia in hand and requested their best room. The patron, clearly accustomed to lovers coming in from the street for a room during carnival, didn’t bat an eye. He took Cain’s credit card and handed over a key.

  They climbed two flights of stairs to a room with a view on the street. The outdated golden wallpaper and worn wine-colored bedspread were evidence of how old the place was, but the surfaces were dust-free and the wooden floor was polished to a shine. With no air conditioning, it was stifling hot inside. Letting go of Olivia, Cain opened the window for air, but kept the lace curtains closed. When he turned back to her she was standing in the middle of the room, hugging herself. Overwhelming dearness turned his heart weak. Right now, there was nothing he wouldn’t give her. Never knowing what was going on in her mind, he couldn’t trust Olivia. Not fully. Yet, he’d lay down his life for her if Godfrey came barging through that door. She was strong and resilient. The better he got to know her mind, the more he liked it. She was beautiful inside and out. A beacon of light in the dark world where he and her husband operated. She was more than everything he’d ever wanted.

  The distance between them was suddenly too much.

  “Come here,” he said softly.

  This time, she obeyed without hesitation. The first step was the most difficult. The second always came easier once the line had been crossed.

  He waited until she stopped short of him. The mask had to go. Gently, he stretched the elastic at the back and lifted it over her head. He discarded it on the floor with little care and much urgency. He wanted to look at her naked face for the words he was about to speak.

  “Forget about running, Olivia. I’ll always chase you.”

  Her violet eyes roamed over his face. “You should’ve turned and left.”

  “I already told you, I’m not leaving.”

  “Cain––”

  The protest dried on her lips when he gripped the string that held her skirt together. One pluck and the boa feathers pooled around her feet on the floor. He pushed the headdress back over her hair and deposited it on the dresser. One by one, he lifted the strings of beads over her head until the hard pebbles of her breasts were exposed.

  Cupping the curves, he brushed his lips over hers. “You’re so perfect.”

  She uttered a throaty moan when he rolled her nipples between her fingers.

  “Tell me you want this, Olivia.”

  She stared up at him, her gaze hazy with desire. “You know I do.”

  “Tell me anyway. Show me your mind.” He needed to know she wanted this as much as he did, or he wouldn’t tempt her to commit more sins with him.

  She closed her eyes and leaned her cheek against his chest. When her mind let him in, he saw the need that reflected his own. It was the affirmation he needed to scoop her up in his arms and carry her to the old-fashioned bed. Jerking the bedspread to the foot-end with one hand, he lowered her onto the sheets. He’d seen her naked many times before, but he took a moment to admire the picture, burning it into his memory, because this time was different. This time, he was going to love her like a man loved a woman. Not just any woman, but his woman. The only woman in the world that mattered.

  Olivia pushed onto her elbows, watching as Cain removed his clothes. Another defining moment. Up to now, she’d always been naked and he fully clothed, like a symbol of the unequal power between them. At his mercy. His hands on her. Never the other way around. He flicked the jacket over the chair back and locked eyes with her as he popped the buttons of his shirt. When he pulled the shirt open, she had a glimpse of the chest she’d only felt under her palms. He was every magnificent inch of hardness she’d imagined. Dusted with gray hair, his torso was lean and sculptured, the muscles edged in deep-cut lines. His shoulders bunched as he stripped the shirt from his arms, leaving her with the tantalizing view of his well-defined abs. He was a symbol of vitality. Knowing how much hard work a body like that took, she admired the work of art in front of her. It was when he kicked off his shoes and his fingers reached for the buckle of his belt that her stomach started quivering. The intent was too obvious. Too clear-cut. There was no mistaking where this was going. She had no doubt he’d stop if she said the word. It would never be like her husband who’d taken her with force when she’d rejected his affections. Yes, she was a woman with a husband. She could argue she’d lost her mind in that alley in the throes of passion. There were excuses even God had to pardon. But this, Cain pushing his briefs over his hips and freeing his erection, this was premeditated.
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  Her gaze trailed from his hips to his powerful legs, his calves and thighs epitomes of male power. His whole body promised protection while his energy was pure desire. Standing in front of her without the pretense of clothes or a mask, he was a breathtaking specimen. There was as much gentleness as danger, but she’d never make the mistake of toying with that danger. As the thought hit her mind, it slipped through undetected, her defenses too distracted by the man who approached the edge of the bed with the deliberate steps of someone who knew what he wanted and wasn’t going to let anything stop him from taking it. Game time was over.

  “No,” he said softly, “this isn’t a game.” He climbed onto the bed and stretched out on top of her. “So don’t ever play me.”

  The thought that he still mistrusted her hurt, but it didn’t come unexpected. They shared passion, not trust.

  “It never was a game,” she whispered as he intertwined their fingers and lifted her arms above her head.

  His body was hard on top of hers. His weight pressed her into the mattress, but she didn’t mind. It felt safe. She was surrounded by him. He was the very essence of her thoughts, the axis around which her needs revolved.

  Holding her gaze, he aligned his cock with her entrance and pressed in slowly. It was so much Cain. No time wasted on sweet talk or useless words. No foreplay was needed. They’d had enough during the nights he’d broken into her house. Buried inside her to the hilt, he stared at her with tenderness.

  “Only you, Olivia.”

  The words made her soar. She needed to believe them so badly. “You’re not doing this with other women?”

  He gave her a half-grin. “I’ve always been a one-woman kind of man.”

  “How many one-women has there been?”

  His expression turned serious, all humor bleeding from his eyes. “You’re the first after Clara.”

 

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