She lifted her hands, too desperate to wait, pulling clumsily at the buttons of his shirt, frantic to open the fabric so she could see all those incredible muscles again, get her fingers on his skin. He’d felt so good before when she’d touched him in the living room, so smooth and hard, the flex and release of his abs mesmerizing. She wanted to do it again and maybe this time run her tongue over his chest and stomach, taste him.
His dog tags swung as she finally got his shirt open and she grabbed them in one hand, holding onto them as she trailed her other hand down his chest, over the ink of the eagle and trident, feeling the warm velvet of his skin and the prickle of crisp hair against her fingertips. She went lower, loving the way his abs tightened beneath her touch.
God, he was gorgeous. So freaking hot.
He made no move as she touched him, as if he was letting her play, but she could hear the sound of his breath getting rougher as her hand roved over him. She glanced up into his face, wanting to see what effect her touch had and sure enough, there was the stain of red on his high, carved cheekbones and that deep, molten gold glittering in his eyes.
She wasn’t the only one feeling this.
The realization thrilled her, made her want to push, disturb his usual steady patience, his calm certainty. She wanted him frantic like she was, shaking like she was.
She gripped the chain of his tags in one hand, then reached down with the other to the button of his pants, trying to get it undone, her fingers clumsy, desperate.
His eyes glittered even brighter, a muscle flexing in his jaw. He said nothing, merely shifted, and before she could protest, he had her wrist in a strong grip and was pulling her hand away.
“No,” she began in a voice that didn’t sound like hers. “I don’t want—”
“We’re going to do this my way.” His tone was very, very firm. “I want your hands up and on the pillow.”
“No.” She tried to pull her wrist away. “I have to touch you. Please, let me.”
“You do that and you won’t get what you want.” With gentle, implacable strength, he drew the arm he was holding up, pressing her hand down onto the pillow by her head. “Like this. And keep it there.” He paused, radiating dark threat. “If you don’t, I’ll stop touching you.”
She shivered, because right then that seemed like the worst punishment in the entire world. And she couldn’t let go his tags fast enough, bringing her arm up and resting it on the pillow beside her head as ordered.
“Good girl.” The threat had ebbed from his voice, making way for an approving note that made heat break out all over her skin. “Like I said, keep them like that.”
She stared up into his eyes, trembling, a sudden wash of intense vulnerability flooding through her, as if she were a soft-bodied creature without a shell, naked before a predator. She wanted to turn away, hide herself somehow, but she knew it was too late for that and for some reason that knowledge was terrifying.
But it was like he’d read her mind, because the look in his eyes changed, the hot glitter becoming a little softer, a little gentler, the hard cast of his mouth curving just a bit. “It’s okay,” he murmured, the warmth in his voice even more pronounced. “You’re safe with me. Understand?”
She couldn’t speak, could only give a jerky nod to show him she understood. Because that look in his eyes and the warm note in his voice had already begun to ease her fear.
Of course she was safe with him. She always had been.
As the scared feeling receded, she began to be conscious of other things, such as the weight of him between her thighs and the press of his zipper against the seam of her jeans, not enough to ease the ache, but enough to make it throb. All she’d have to do would be to angle her hips and that seam would be pressing against her clit.
But he must have read her mind again, because he said, his voice full of soft warning, “Don’t even think about it.” Then the weight of him pressing down on her increased so she was pinned to the bed, unable to move. “This is my show, remember? Now, keep still.”
Her breathing had become shorter and the pressure of him between her thighs was relentless, an itch that couldn’t be scratched, making her feel like she was going to crawl out of her skin.
“Please,” she panted, her body shuddering. “I need you. Now.”
Van leaned on his elbows, his massive, hard body lying almost fully on her, and cupped her face between his palms, stroking her cheekbones with his thumbs. “Hush,” he murmured as she arched and moved restlessly beneath him, unable to stop herself. “It’s okay. Like I said, we’re taking this slow.”
“N-No. I don’t want slow.” The words were frayed and husky. “Touch me. I need you to touch me.”
“Shhh.” He stroked back and forth across her cheekbones. “Have you done this before, pretty? Have you been with a guy?”
She wanted to be outraged by the question, wanted to tell him it was none of his damn business and what did it matter anyway? But her inexperience must be wildly obvious and maybe it wasn’t actually a bad thing if he knew. So all she said was, “Yes, but only one guy.”
“Okay, good.” His voice was low and soft, as if she was a skittish horse he was calming. “You know what’s going to happen then.”
Maybe that should have soothed her. But she didn’t feel soothed. She only felt even more desperate. Because sure, she may have done this with Jason, yet it wasn’t the same. At all. With Van it was so much stronger, so much more powerful. So relentless.
“I c-can’t. I … Van…”
“Yes, you can.” His thumbs swept over her skin. “This is like learning to ride, remember? Stay calm, be patient and let the horse take you where you want to go.”
She remembered. His hands on her waist, lifting her up onto the broad back of the animal. She’d been scared because she’d been so far up off the ground, but he’d given her that amazing smile of his. “It’ll be okay, pretty,” he’d said. “You won’t fall, I promise.”
Chloe looked up at him, staring into those familiar eyes, feeling those big, warm hands on her skin, and somehow the frantic need eased off, her muscles relaxing, her breathing slowing.
“You won’t let me fall?” she whispered, not even knowing she was going to say it until it came out.
That beautiful mouth of his curved, as if he knew exactly which memory she was talking about. “I won’t. You’re safe with me, remember?”
She swallowed. “Yes. I remember.”
“Good.” His hands left her face and his attention dropped to her chest. “Now. I’m going to get these clothes off you.” He began to undo the buttons of her shirt, slow and deliberate, one by one.
Her heartbeat thumped as she felt the fabric part, and she wanted to put her hands over her breasts to cover herself, which was weird since she’d never had any particular hang-ups about her body. She certainly hadn’t worried about getting naked with Jason. But this wasn’t Jason. This was Van and it was different, and she had the oddest feeling of not wanting to disappoint him.
But he’d said he’d stop touching her if she moved, so she kept her hands where they were as the last button released and he pushed the fabric of her shirt slowly apart. She wore a bra underneath, but he almost casually ripped open the lace holding the cups together, freeing her breasts, making her cheeks blaze with sudden heat. She desperately wanted to look away and yet she couldn’t, her gaze drawn to his hard, beautiful face. It was set in fierce lines, the look in his eyes intent as he gazed down at her bare breasts.
“Van,” she whispered, not knowing what she wanted, maybe just a sign that he liked what he saw, that she was beautiful to him. God, she hadn’t known until right in this moment that she’d wanted to be beautiful to him.
He didn’t look at her. Instead he shifted his weight onto one elbow and lifted his hand, cupping one breast in his palm. The breath hissed in her throat, the shocking heat of his touch reverberating through her like a scream echoing through a deserted house. He brushed his thumb over her ac
hing nipple and she gasped, all the desperation she’d felt earlier rushing back.
He lowered his head, putting his mouth against the pulse at the base of her throat, the feel of his lips so hot she began to shiver almost uncontrollably. His tongue pressed lightly, his thumb brushing back and forth over her nipple, teasing her. She groaned, her spine bowing, pleasure like a live thing twisting inside her.
“Beautiful,” he whispered roughly against her skin, giving her the reassurance she needed without her even having to ask. “You’re just so fucking beautiful.”
He didn’t speak after that, too busy trailing kisses down over her skin, making goose bumps rise everywhere, the brush of his thumb maddening. Then he took his hand away as his mouth closed over the hard point of her nipple, hot and wet, an intense pressure building as he began to suck.
She groaned again, the pleasure bright and electric, her hands closing into fists beside her head. It felt so good she could hardly stand it. She whispered his name yet again, the sound raw as he teased her nipple with his tongue, then bit gently on it, making a sob catch in her throat.
He shifted his attention to her other breast, sucking that into his mouth as well as he slid one hand down the quivering plane of her stomach, to the fastening of her jeans. She lifted her hips urgently, unable to keep still, wanting to pull away from the maddening torture of his mouth and yet wanting him to suck harder, deeper at the same time.
“Hush.” His breath was hot against her sensitized nipple. “I told you to keep still. It’ll happen, don’t worry.”
She tried to do as she was told as he casually flicked open the button on her jeans and grabbed the tab of her zipper, tugging it down. Then his fingers were feathering light touches across her stomach, moving lower, sliding beneath the waistband of her panties. The breath sobbed in her throat as she felt those teasing fingers tangle in the soft, damp curls between her thighs, pulling lightly, sending tiny pinpricks of sensation racing over her skin.
She said something, she didn’t know what, maybe it was his name again or maybe it was a curse, and then she forgot it entirely as his fingers slid lower, stroking the soft, slick folds of her pussy.
Her hips bucked against his hand, her head going back on the pillow. He circled her clit with one finger, teasing her. Inching her closer toward the edge of the cliff but not pushing her off.
His mouth was so hot on her nipple, licking and sucking, torturing her as his fingers stroked unhurriedly around and around her clit, then sliding down to circle the entrance of her body, almost pushing inside but not quite.
He was playing with her, making her moan and move restlessly beneath him, blind now to anything but the feel of his hands on her body and the relentless pressure that was slowly building higher and higher.
Then quite suddenly he took his hands away and she nearly burst into tears at the loss, reaching for him as she felt his weight shift up and back.
“Lie still.” The rough sound of his voice rolled over her, full of command. “I’m not going anywhere.”
So she did as she was told, lying back against the pillows, blinking away the stupid rush of salty tears from her eyes and watching him slide off the bed. He straightened and pulled his shirt off, then got rid of his shoes. He undid his pants, pushed them down his hips along with his briefs, and stepped out of them magnificently, gloriously naked, but for his dog tags.
She couldn’t stop staring at him, following the carved lines of muscle and sinew, a work of perfect, masculine art, the eagle and trident inked across his chest making it very clear—as if his body hadn’t already—exactly what he was.
Dangerous, lethal. A weapon in human form.
He bent and got his wallet out of his pants, every movement fluid, purposeful as he extracted a foil packet from it. Then he ripped the open the foil, taking out the latex inside. And as she watched, completely fascinated, he reached down and gripped his cock in one hand, rolling down the condom with the other.
Big. He was really big. And beautiful too.
Her hands itched, wanting to touch him, to stroke down the long, smooth length of his rigid flesh, feel exactly how hard he was. But then he was moving, the bed dipping as he got back onto it. And her breath caught as he reached for the waistband of her jeans, pulling the denim down her legs in short, hard jerks, taking her panties along with them, and finally slipping them both off. Then he put his hands on her bare thighs and with ruthless insistence, spread them wide apart.
Another rush of vulnerability swept over her and she half sat up, breathing fast. “Van, I…” she began, before stopping short, not knowing what she wanted to say.
But he was moving forward, putting his hands on her shoulders and easing her back. “Let me look.” His voice had gentled again. “I only want to look at you.”
She tried to relax against the pillows, letting him hold her thighs apart, his gaze returning between them. The look on his face was so hungry, making her feel less exposed and more … powerful almost. She liked doing that to him. She liked making him look at her as if he was starving.
He moved forward quite suddenly, coming over her, surrounding her with all that bare, tanned skin and strong muscle, his dog tags brushing against her sensitized breasts. The scent of him was everywhere, fresh, with that spicy, earthy undertone, and she was abruptly trembling so hard she didn’t think she’d ever stop.
He said nothing, looking at down at her, and this time his expression was fierce with something she didn’t understand. She wanted to ask him what it was, but then he slid one hand beneath her hips, lifting them, and she felt the head of his cock slide through her folds, nudging against her clit. And she forgot what she was going to ask. In fact, she lost the power of speech entirely.
All she could do was lie there, shaking and desperate as he teased her, and when she didn’t think she could bear it anymore, he began to push his cock inside her, the intense stretch and burn of her pussy around him tearing a gasp from her throat.
She sobbed, because he didn’t rush. He went slowly. Inch by inch. Murmuring encouragement, telling her what a good girl she was, how tight and wet and hot her pussy was, and how good she felt around his cock. The dirty talk made her break out into a sweat, the climax so near she could almost taste it, making her want to shove herself up onto him or do something—anything—to push herself over the edge. But he didn’t let her, pinning one of her hips to the mattress with one hand as he lifted her leg up and around his waist with the other, tilting her pelvis so he could slide in deeper.
She stopped pleading, her throat too dry, her voice too hoarse. Besides, it was clear he wasn’t going to do anything until he was good and ready. She could only breathe through the pleasure that was wrapping itself around her throat and squeezing tight, making her gasp, making lights burst behind her eyes.
Then he was seated deep inside her, and she found herself pressed to the mattress, pinned beneath the hot, heavy weight of him. But strangely, looking up into his beautiful face, she didn’t feel crushed. She felt anchored. As if for the first time since she’d left Wyoming she’d come home in some way.
She didn’t speak as his arms came around her, cradling her, holding her close against him like she was a secret he wanted to keep safe. Then he drew back his hips and thrust deep inside her.
Chloe came apart then, sobbing against his shoulder, shattering as easily and as lightly as a sphere of blown glass, the pieces of her held together only by the strength of his arms.
Keeping her from falling.
* * *
Chloe’s sob of release echoed around the room, her pussy clenching tight around his cock, and it was all he could do not to lose it there and then, to push her back against the mattress and drive himself into her, hard and fast until the orgasm came for him as well.
But he didn’t.
He wasn’t going to lose it, not with her, because this wasn’t about him. She was lonely and scared, and he wanted to make her feel good. Drown her in pleasure. At least for a lit
tle while.
The aftershocks were making her shudder, but he didn’t let her go. He kept her cradling against him as he began to move again, sliding out of her tight little pussy before pushing back in, long and deep and slow.
He heard her gasp his name, her nails sinking into his back, both legs curled tight around him, tempting him to let go the firm grip he had on his control. But no. He wanted to make her come again and he wasn’t going to stop until he had.
Holy Christ though, her scent was driving him crazy, musky and feminine. And he still had the taste of her skin in his mouth, salty, sweet, delicious. It had been a long time since he’d wanted to spread a woman out on his bed and taste every inch of her body. Been a long time since he’d let himself want a woman this intensely at all. After Columbia and his failure to protect Sofia, after he’d decided he was done living up to Noah’s impossible standards and his insistence on treating Van less as a son and more as the cipher he’d wanted him to be, he’d been pretty selfish when it came to sex. Sure, he made sure his partners enjoyed it because there was no point if they didn’t, but he was very careful to not let it become any more than that. And he chose only women who could look after themselves. Who didn’t need protecting. Who didn’t need him.
Which made his reaction to Chloe so very, very wrong.
Because she was none of those things.
She’d lain there beneath him, shaking and desperate, looking at him as if she was hanging off the edge of a cliff and he was her lifeline. That shouldn’t have been the turn-on that it was. Yet he’d gotten so fucking hard as he’d reached down to take her face between his palms, to soothe her, calm her, watching her relax under his touch, responding to him in a way that made his chest ache and his cock ache even more.
He’d told her he was going to take it slow and he’d meant it. She was inexperienced and he hadn’t wanted to do anything that might hurt or frighten her. Only what she’d wanted, which was to feel good. So he’d ignored all her little pleas and the ways she’d tried to rush him, ignored her demands and the frantic touch of her fingers on his body. Taking things nice and slow and easy.
The Dangerous Billionaire Page 14