Entwined Fates

by Cristiane Serruya

  “Boxers. Off.”

  He shook his head and returned to what he was doing, whispering, “There’s no hurry. We have all night.”

  Who said there’s no hurry? She was past any coherent thought.

  Alistair wanted to hear her scream with pleasure; to make her come so hard she wouldn’t know up from down. He shifted his weight, bracing himself on his elbows, his legs falling on either side of hers. He kissed his way to her navel, delineating it with his tongue before getting on his knees. She’s pure silk and velvet. And she’s about to become mine.

  His hands paused on her hips and he splayed them across her belly. With his thumbs hooked under the thin straps of her matching ivory lace panties, he slowly pulled them down. His fingers deliberately touched her thighs, calves, and then her feet. He gripped an ankle and lifted her leg to his mouth.

  Just the languid way he raised her leg was torture. Sophia inhaled sharply and closed her eyes.

  “Open your eyes and look at me,” he ordered.

  When her eyes fluttered open, he licked her instep.

  She gripped the sheets, arching on the bed when his tongue trailed her calf and the back of her knee.

  He put her foot on his shoulder and gripped the other ankle in his hand. Now his tongue flicked her left instep as his teeth bit down.

  “Alistair,” Sophia hissed, and closed her eyes again.

  “Keep your eyes open.” A lascivious grin appeared on his face and his tongue marked a path from her ankle to her inner knee, putting the foot on his other shoulder, and leaning down to the apex of her thighs, his hands easing her legs down his back. He drew his fingers unhurriedly up her legs, his gaze never straying from hers. One of his hands held her hip and the other spread her, his fingers touching her lightly. “So smooth,” he breathed.

  Sophia bowed on the bed and almost sobbed from the delicious torture. “Please.”

  A finger teased her entrance and she gasped in anticipation as he whispered, “Tell me, Sophia, who is pleasuring you?”

  “You,” she gasped. “You, Alistair Connor.”

  His eyes took in every inch of her as he pushed a long, broad finger deep inside her.

  “Alistair!” His name split in a soft scream on her lips.

  With a satisfied smile, he bent over her to suck her breast, a second finger joining the entering, retreating, and circling. Fuck. She’s tight.

  He needed her out of her mind. Sweat filmed his forehead as he reined in his desire. Soon, a third finger stretched her.

  She gripped his biceps so strongly her nails dug into his skin.

  He crushed her mouth with his, drinking and breathing her. He couldn’t get enough. He could feel her hands clutching his waist, trying to remove his boxers, urging him, but he resisted, his free hand grabbed hers. “Not yet.”

  His cock strained against the material, the sensitive head rasping on the cotton, screaming to be free. He wanted this to last, and tried to hold on to the thin thread of control that kept him from freeing his member and plunging into her.

  With all her strength and passion, she shoved him back to his knees and rose on hers to meet him.

  He looked like a pagan god with his black hair falling to his shoulders, a lock over his face, his eyes flashing with ardor.

  Sophia, crazed with desire, clamped her mouth to his nipple, biting it lightly, her hands running over his chest and abs.

  He groaned his approval, his hands pressing her head to his chest.

  She used the opportunity to pull down his boxers. Her hand circled his erection and she froze. Her head came up and she looked at him, eyes wide, astonished. Her lips parted and she breathed, “You’re…” Huge.

  “Don’t worry, we’ll fit.” The wicked hue in his voice filled the room, seeming to hypnotize Sophia.

  He framed her face, drawing her to him for another slow kiss, but her hand stroked him tightly, making the remaining control he was trying to keep, slip away.

  She bit his lip, and when she released it, he groaned, “Aye, again.”

  She bit harder this time and he inhaled sharply. She lapped at the bite and pleaded, “I want you, Alistair. All of you. Take me.” Sophia lay down and opened her arms for him as Alistair took off his boxers and sheathed himself with the condom.

  “I desire you,” he murmured against her lips, gathering her in his arms, “As I have never desired any other woman.”

  Their lips clashed as he pinned her to the bed. He kissed her until they were breathless, his legs prying hers open, sex touching sex.

  “Alistair, now, please?” she begged, arching her body and her nails raking his back.

  Alistair supported himself on one elbow and gazed at her. His muscles rippled beneath his skin. “What do you want?”

  “You, Alistair. I want you.”

  “You’re everything a man could dream of.” He kissed her, his tongue tracing her bottom lip. He couldn’t seem to get enough of her mouth. “I’ll make it last.”

  In his whispered promise, there was more than a simple wish to prolong the night’s sex.

  He rocked his hips the broad tip of his shaft teasing her up and down, parting her nether lips.

  Her hips jerked from the bed, seeking him. “Yes, please.”

  When he felt her entrance, he almost lost control as a thrill of molten desire flashed through his spine and he strained not to fully plunge into her all at once. His low, husky voice was edgy when he said, “Relax and enjoy, Beauty.” He started to leisurely pressure his rigid length into her, at first just the head to let her adjust to his size.

  “More,” she moaned as her body trembled.

  He pressed in patiently, with shallow but deliberate thrusts into her tightness. He closed his eyes trying to concentrate, but she rocked into him and he pushed in more than he wanted.

  A long and loud pained gasped left her at the sublime, almost agonizing sensation. Throwing her head back, she gripped the sheets, her eyes closed.

  “Sophia, talk to me.” He kissed her throat and jaw.

  “Keep going,” she urged. She wound her legs around his waist and her feet spurred him.

  “Easy.” He gave a strained smile as his hips started to rock at a steady pace, pushing himself in deeper until he fully settled inside of her and her muscles firmly clasped him. He paused to enjoy the feeling and the vision of her face suffused with passion. I possess her. At last. “Open your eyes, Sophia.”

  She did, and inside them, he saw desire blazing.

  “Amazing,” she said hoarsely, releasing the sheets to comb his hair back, dragging him down to a scorching kiss.

  He pulled his hips back to thrust back in. Unhurried, long, deep strokes taunted her, stoking the fire.

  “Alistair Connor,” she whispered his name in a caress and started to move her hips in time with his, arching her body to rub her breasts on his chest.

  His mouth moved sensually over her ear, throat, and shoulder, kissing, nibbling, and licking.

  She gasped and moaned with pleasure, responding to his grunts as the tension build in her body, straining her.

  Alistair pushed up on his elbows to look at her. Her head tilted back, her eyes almost closed, her cheeks rosy, and lips red and parted. She’s a goddess. My goddess.

  “Mine,” the rasped word escaped from somewhere within his chest. “You are mine, Sophia.” He grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her head back to kiss and lick the column of her neck. He could feel her tremors getting stronger and he hooked one of her legs by the knee on his arm, opening her wider as his pace increased, rotating his hips each time he plunged in harder and faster, driving her out of her mind.

  She opened her eyes and arched like a strained bow, seeking release, almost incoherently begging, “Please—I need—I want…”

  “Let go,” his hoarse voice encouraged, between kisses. “I’m here to catch you.”

  She threw her head back, spasms clamping him into her body as he came in with hard, deep, and forceful thrusts.
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  She screamed as the most intense orgasm of her life plunged her into ecstasy and darkness.

  His shout joined hers, violent and long. Alistair fell forward panting hard, crushing her flush to his body, as his own orgasm subsided.

  He recovered and withdrew from her, rolling onto his back and taking Sophia with him.

  “Sophia, what you do to me,” he whispered, his breath still ragged. When he didn’t get any answer, he sat up on the bed and pulled her into his embrace, frowning. “Sophia?”

  She was breathing shallowly and her face looked flushed.

  He shook her gently. “Wake up.”

  Her eyelids flickered, opening slightly. She murmured, “Don’t…panic.”

  Think, Alistair Connor, think. “What?”

  She blinked her eyes open, completely in awe, burning him with that yellow-diamond pale fire. “Mmm…” She licked her lips. “What was that?”

  “I don’t know. You tell me.” Alistair scanned her face concerned… her lips were red and swollen; her rosy face had a dreamy look. “You fainted. For what seemed like a lifetime.”

  “I didn’t faint,” she whispered, and shut her eyes again.

  “What are you feeling?” He shook her again, concerned. “I’m calling 999.”

  “Don’t.” She chuckled, staring at him in a daze. “It’s normal. I’ve never—been—better. It was—mind-blowing.”

  “For Christ’s sake, Sophia, how is this normal? You’re scaring me.” He bent his head and kissed her forehead, hugging her closer. “Are you sure you’re feeling well?”

  “Mmm-hmm.” She ran her face against his chest, purring in contentment like a kitten and smiled at him lazily. “So silky and so hard. You know you look like a pagan god?”

  Feeling calmer, it was Alistair’s time to chuckle. “A pagan god. A Highland warrior. I’ll become conceited.”

  “You already are,” she whispered, “Lord I’m-so-handsome-and-powerful-and-I-know-it.”

  “Lord I’m-so…?” He laughed, then kissed and spooned her. “I’m not conceited. I am handsome. And powerful. It’s a fact.”

  “Vanity is a sin, Alistair Connor,” she murmured, amused.

  He snuggled her into his body, feeling her heartbeat returning to normal, her breath becoming even. His arm draped over her waist and his hand rested on her breast. The other arm cushioned her head. His chin fit exactly over her shoulder.

  Alistair sighed satisfied. Just as he had imagined, they fit together.

  Perfectly.

  Chapter 33

  Ethan Ashford’s Penthouse

  7:44 p.m.

  Ethan stood in front of the bookshelf in his sitting room, holding a glass of port in his hand. Still as a statue, he studied the photograph in the silver frame from where Sophia smiled at him for a long time.

  She was perfect for me. He drank his wine in a gulp, putting the glass carefully on the side table next to the sofa. Why is it that the women I love don’t love me back? Why do I have to live with these ghosts in my life? It’s all Calista’s fault.

  He stepped uncertainly toward the bedroom, where the stunning brunette he had hired was taking a nap. His azure gaze swung back to the photo, a fierce longing piercing his body, almost causing him to curl in pain. How can two women look so much alike?

  He picked up his phone and speed-dialed a number.

  “Mr. Ashford?”

  “Scott, is she home?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He remained unsure if he should assuage his curiosity or not. He shoved a hand in his sun-kissed brown hair and mustered his courage. “Is she going out with him?”

  A few moments of silence ensued while Ethan’s assistant pondered how insane the whole situation was and what was he doing in all this.

  “Is she?”

  “Sir, she arrived at home accompanied by Mr. MacCraig. And he hasn’t left. Y—Yet.”

  Whore. A fierce rage took control of Ethan. “Double the vigilance and keep me informed. I want to know about every step she takes.”

  Ethan switched off the phone and stalked up to the woman on the bed, shaking her. “Sophia.”

  She pushed her black-dyed hair from her face, and her eyes with yellow contact lenses blinked at him. “Am I late for dinner?”

  “Go to the guest room and have your dinner there,” he ordered. “If I need you again later, I’ll call you.”

  A fake Sophia will not do. I need the real one. He turned without a second glance and entered his bathroom, banging the door. And she, I will have.

  Atwood House

  8:00 p.m.

  It seemed eons since Alistair had cuddled after sex and it felt right and good. Wonderful. He marveled at her soft, creamy skin, caressing it with the tip of his fingers. “Tell me. You planned this?”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “When?”

  She rolled over on her stomach to look at him and propped her chin on her hand. “This afternoon. A few minutes before I called you.”

  She was a vision of paradise with her black hair falling down her back, her lips a deeper red from his kissed, legs raised and crossed at the ankles. “You’re still afraid of commitment? Any kind of commitment?” she asked.

  “It’s not—” He stopped the lie at her pointed look. “Nae. I’m not afraid. That’s not the word. I’m fearful. I was badly hurt in my only serious relationship.”

  “I understand.” She raked her fingers through her hair and tilted her head to the side, before rolling onto her back, staring at the cerulean-green canopy of her bed. “When I became a widow, I wore my wedding band for a long time.”

  Quite the opposite here. “Nae, Sophia. I don’t think you understand. My case is quite different from yours.” He pushed up on his elbow. His fingers appeared to have an itch only her body could soothe. “My marriage wasn’t a happy one. I stopped wearing my wedding ring long before Heather died. I swore on Nathalie’s grave, I’d never make the same mistake again.”

  She stared at him, astonished. “My God, Alistair.”

  “You haven’t—” He sighed. “Nobody told you? Alice?”

  “No, I didn’t let her.”

  “Why not?” he asked surprised.

  “Because.”

  “That’s not an answer. Why not?” he insisted.

  She considered her answer carefully and looked at him directly in the eyes. “A story has many sides. If you ask my in-laws about what happened between Gabriel and I, they have a version. My brother, another one. And so on. What version would matter to you? Theirs or mine?”

  “I see.” He stared back at her, his eyes so dark the green was almost gone. So many emotions swirled in them: rage, fear, pain, shame. But not a drop of love. “So you expect me to tell you what happened.”

  “No. I don’t have any expectations concerning your past. Just don’t let your other experiences mar our relationship.” She combed his hair tenderly with her fingers. “Tell me when and if you feel like it.” She smiled at him mischievously, and pushing up on all fours, crawled over him and straddled him at the waist. Her hands rested on her knees. She eyed him, her head cocked to the side and she wetted her lips.

  He quirked an eyebrow at her, his lips curling.

  A cat-that-got-the-cream smile appeared on her lips. She crossed her arms in front of her body, her hands on her hips, and lifted them slowly, skimming her abdomen, up her torso, brushing her nipples, uncrossing them when she reached her shoulders to stroke her hair at her nape. She lifted her raven strands and let them fall in a cascade.

  Fuck. His cock twitched and his lust awakened again to applaud the sensual show. Hmm, the fastest recovery of my life.

  Eyes half-closed, she stretched her arms over her head, bent them, and gripped her elbows, undulating her body. She licked her lips and bit the lower one.

  Witch! He went mad with lust, grabbed her by the ribs and lowered her for a passionate kiss, flexing his hips and grinding his erection against her buttocks. His hands ran over her back, grabbed
her long hair, wound it around his wrist, and softly yanked it back.

  She bit his lip, sucked at it, and moved to kiss his jaw.

  He moaned when she rimmed his ear and then nipped his earlobe.

  “My turn,” she whispered in his ear.

  “My pleasure,” he replied, huskily.

  “Yes,” she breathed, “your pleasure.” And she glided down his body, letting him feel her soft skin. She kissed his chest and then a nipple, playfully biting it, eliciting a groan. She circled it with her tongue and then did the same with the other.

  “More. Bite.” His fingers tangled in her hair and placed her mouth on his nipple, commanding, “Bite.”

  She nipped it.

  He groaned and demanded again, “Harder.”

  Sophia bit him and he moaned out loud. She repeated it on the other. He grunted.

  “You have a wonderful body. A classical sculpture.” Her voice was reverential. Her hands caressed his ribs and chest as she lavished his abs with kisses. When her tongue circled his navel and dipped in, his breath hitched. She knelt between his thighs. Her hands continued trailing down him and she sat on her heels.

  Alistair watched her as her eyes flamed.

  She twirled her hair and threw it over a shoulder. Then she licked her lips and rested her hands lightly on his hips.

  He tensed and fisted his hands.

  Without taking her eyes off him, she lowered her body. Her lips parted and hovered just a breath away from his strained erection. Her tongue darted out and licked the head.

  “Aye!” He pushed up on his elbows to have a better view of the goddess tormenting him. His legs widened to make room for her. This must be the sweetest torture on earth.

  She gripped the base of his cock and engulfed him deep in her mouth.

  He threw his head back with a roar and his neck stretched. He struggled not to thrust into her mouth.