Filthy Rich (Blackstone Dynasty Book 1)

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Filthy Rich (Blackstone Dynasty Book 1) Page 12

by Raine Miller


  I waited until I was sure he was watching me in the doorway of his bathroom before I started getting naked.

  Socks were the first to go. I peeled them off and dropped them to the marble floor, first one and then the other.

  I put my hands on the hem of the soft black shirt and drew it up and over my head. My breasts were dragged upward from the friction of the fabric pulling on them before their weight brought them back down with a bounce. I imagined Caleb seeing my naked breasts and shivered. I felt my nipples harden into tight, aching knots at the thought of him watching me from his bed in the darkness.

  My fingers shook as I dug them into the waistband of my flannel pajama bottoms and shimmied out of them. I kicked them aside with my foot and took a deep breath. I could feel his eyes on me, but the darkness beyond the light kept me blinded to him as I finished the final act of my strip show.

  My new baby-blue knickers were the last to go. I turned away from him and faced the shower now pumping out clouds of hot steam, and slipped them off.

  I tried to slow my thumping heart as I stepped carefully into the travertine-tiled grotto. Hot water poured over me from above out of three huge rain showerheads in a delicious soaking of body and spirit. Since there was no door for the shower, I didn’t hear him when he stepped in to join me.

  I only felt his presence, sensing the change in the water spray as his body came into its path.

  His hand a gentle weight on my shoulder, his lips a soft brush on the other side where my shoulder met the base of my neck. I fell back against him and let him support my weight as he kissed up my neck and found his way to a breast with his hand. He cupped it, taking the weight and pushing the flesh up before squeezing down on the center. My nipple tightened even more when he tugged on it with two fingers. I felt myself letting go of all inhibitions as he worked on me. Caleb knew just how to touch me and make me forget everything except for him, and what he could make me feel.

  His hands and lips wandered everywhere, his touch gentle—but determined, his kisses reverent—but demanding. Perfection . . . as he awakened feelings in me I didn’t even know existed.

  I was turned to face him with strong hands that held me back a distance. “I want to see you—every beautiful inch of you,” he said, his words thick with desire. Then he backed me into the wall until I was flat against it, exposed with nothing between us but hot water falling from above in a simulation of rain. The only sound was the rush of the streaming jets of water pounding down to the floor.

  His eyes flared as they roamed over my body, giving me the thrill of knowing he was affected by what he saw. But I was more interested in what he had on display. Caleb was a magnificent specimen of the male form in every way. Cut muscles shaped his arms and wide shoulders, which tapered down to washboard abs that melted into a carved V of masculine beauty that took my breath away. One spectacularly beautiful man.

  One spectacularly beautiful man, with a really impressive cock at the end of his sexy happy trail, hard with wanting. Wanting me and straining to get to me.

  On a low breath that started and ended with my name, he knelt before me and put his hands down on the tops of my feet. He found my scars immediately and ran his lips along the lines in slow, worshipful, healing kisses that inched upward bit by bit. I shuddered at the image of him drawing his tongue up the inside of my thigh as he masterfully positioned my right leg over his shoulder. But then, I put up no resistance, because the obsessive need to have him keep going ruled every other possible thought.

  The first draw of his tongue over my sex pulled a raw cry out of me. I gripped the shower wall with the flat of my hands to keep myself from slipping down to the floor. Caleb licked and sucked me to the brink of an orgasm with his magical tongue, swirling over my clit and then sucking it deep between his soft lips framed with the prickly stubble of his beard. The contrast of soft and sharp sent me over all in an instant, on one glorious rush.

  “Caleb . . . I—I’m c-coming n-n-now—” I lost the ability to vocalize. Didn’t care about anything anymore . . . except feeling what he was giving me.

  “Mmm-hmm, beautiful, you are,” I heard him say against my pussy as I blew apart into a million pieces, drowning in pleasure, fighting to breathe.

  I became aware of being carried out of the shower and set down upon a hard surface. The counter? “You are so fucking gorgeous when you come.”

  I moaned at the reminder of something so perfect I was sure I would never forget. “It felt fucking gorgeous,” I replied.

  “I—I need you now, Brooke.” He held my face in his hands as if he was asking for permission, his dark-blue eyes piercing into me.

  I nearly wept from the gesture. “Yes.”

  He pulled a warm towel down from the rack and dried me off in between desperate kisses that stole my breath away. “You looked beautiful—so fucking sexy stripping for me. I almost came from watching you,” he said as he circled my breasts with the towel. “I want to make you come like that for me—all night long.” Then he tossed the towel away. The words he spoke meant everything to me. I could almost believe none of the bad had ever happened, because of how Caleb was with me right now.

  I reached for him and raked my hands over the planes and valleys of his chest, traveling south with my hands until I gripped the hard length of his rigid cock. He bit down on his lip and threw his head back as I stroked up and down, learning the feel of the satin skin surrounding his flesh as hard as bone. I wanted—no, I needed Caleb inside me.

  He fumbled around in a cupboard to my left and produced a handful of condoms, with several packets scattering all around as they fell to a soft landing. The crazy thought danced through my head of his comment about an Eagle Scout always being prepared, apparently even while having sex on the bathroom counter. But it went right on out of my mind just as quickly when I watched him tear one open and sheath himself. His penis was beautiful, and I wanted it in me. Like right now would be a lovely time for it.

  Caleb kissed me decadently with his tongue probing deep in an almost frantic plea as he hooked a hand behind each of my knees and spread me open. He took his cock in hand and aligned it right where it needed to be . . . and buried it all the way inside me on a deep slide.

  “Fuuuck!”

  “Ahhhh!”

  We both shouted in perfect synchronization.

  We both watched our bodies joining in the most primitive of ways as he worked his cock in and out in piercing thrusts. I had to close my eyes after a moment because the image of us fucking was really too much intimacy for me to take in all at once. I just wanted to experience the sensation and pleasure of him right now. Just feel.

  Caleb must have sensed where I was in my head because he found my mouth again and kissed away any doubts that tried to creep in. He linked his hands under my bum and carried me, still impaled on him, to his soft bed. “This is where I want to fuck for the first time. In my bed, beautiful, where you belong,” he told me as I was laid out upon ultrasoft sheets that smelled of him.

  Where I belong?

  Do I belong in Caleb’s bed? The idea was crazy, but I couldn’t deny I loved hearing it from him. His care for me was something priceless and ironically put me in danger of falling for him. Danger . . . I couldn’t risk. I knew I couldn’t fall in love with Caleb Blackstone. Sex. Recreational fucking. Taking pleasure in the act was all we would be able to have together. It would have to be enough for the both of us.

  “But I have to see you while we do it.” He fumbled with something and the lights came on in the room that’d been darkened for sleep.

  “Yes me, too,” I said, drawing my hands down to frame the perfect V between his hips, and admiring the godlike body connected with mine.

  I got my wish.

  I got to see everything in the light as we fought to find that beautiful, terrifying, exquisite end . . . together.

  Caleb took my hands and dragged them over my head, trapping my wrists together with one hand, and gripped my hip with the other. P
inned in place beneath him, I got a bold taste of dominant Caleb, and it pushed me even closer toward a second orgasm I knew was barreling toward me.

  Then he started to really fuck—hard, deep plunges that bottomed out inside the heart of me, filling me to the brink with his thick male flesh, giving me a jolt of pleasure with each slide. I despaired whenever he would pull his cock away, just to rejoice when he drove it back in.

  I felt all the magical goodness to be had in sexual intimacy—for the first time in my life.

  And I caught glimpses of him straining beautifully above me, his lean muscles tight with tension, golden skin glistening with water and sweat as he took me. I gave myself up, but Caleb took me . . . just as I’d wanted him to. He was making me forget . . . just as I’d hoped he would.

  Deep down inside me I felt his cock swell and harden even more, and knew the end was near. His hand pinning me down at my hip was removed as I felt his fingers slide over to stroke my sensitive clit. He was making sure I found my end. Bless him.

  “Come with me. Come with me, Brooke. I—want—to—come—with—you,” he growled harshly, sounding almost savage in his need.

  “I aaaaaaam.” The pulse started within me as I said it. I let myself fall over the razor’s edge into the glorious river of pleasure as Caleb throbbed out his own release in pounding pulls to draw out every last bit of perfect heavenly goodness.

  Bless Caleb Blackstone for giving me something I’d never been given before by another man. Adoration.

  I might just fall in love with him after all, I thought, as I drifted away into nirvana with him still inside me.

  Caleb

  My world grew exponentially smaller in the space of one day. My world was named Brooke Casterley, and she was the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen as we came together in an explosive melding of our bodies. As my heart pounded down from the orgasm, and I struggled to comprehend what’d just happened, I realized it had been much more than a melding of bodies for me. It had been the melding of my heart with hers. I could tell myself it wasn’t possible to feel any different after a session of really good sex, but I would be dead wrong. Because everything was different. Nothing was familiar when it came to Brooke. Each new thing we shared together felt to me as if I’d never done it before, and more importantly, as if I never wanted to do it again with anyone other than her—ever.

  What could that possibly mean . . . unless I really was in love with her?

  I pulled out of her carefully so we wouldn’t have a condom accident, and was rewarded with the sound of her muffled protest at me leaving. Another first. Wanting to reassure her that I would be right back was also something I’d never had the urge to do—before now. “Be right back, beautiful. Do you need anything?” I couldn’t resist tracing her lips with my finger.

  She put her lips around the tip of my finger and sucked lightly. “Just you to come back and keep your promise,” she said, shyly looking up at me all soft and pleasured from her climax. And beautifully naked.

  Hell yes, I knew exactly what promise that would be. My caveman brain still remembered the vow I’d made just after we left the shower. The one about me making her come all night long.

  Yes, I was in total-without-a-fucking-doubt love with this girl, right here.

  “I will. And I will.”

  Only a moron would waste a lot of time in the bathroom cleaning the cum off his cock if his beautiful woman was waiting naked for him in the bed. So, no, I did not waste time. But I did pick her clothes up from the floor and fold them so she would see them when she came in here later. I collected up all of the spilled condom packets and put them back in the box, too. Then I took three out again and checked myself in the mirror. Yeah, that’s you wearing the shit-eating grin.

  A shit-eating grin because Brooke wanted me keeping my promises, and like the Eagle Scout I am, I had every intention of keeping the very first oath on the list: a scout is trustworthy. Yes, why yes, I am trustworthy.

  I fixed the lighting in the room before I got back into bed with her because I couldn’t bear not being able to at least see a little bit. I opened the blinds on the wall of windows so the city lights would illuminate my bedroom. I never did that because it was too much light for me to sleep comfortably, but sleep wasn’t really on my agenda at the moment. I needed some light so I could see Brooke as I made her come for me . . . all—night—long.

  SHE really did have the most beautiful tits in the world. The most stunning pair I’d ever met, hands down. Their shape was like a peach, perfectly round with just the slightest upward tilt at the nipples. I’m talking Victoria’s Secret lingerie–model perfection, but all-natural just the way God had made her.

  The show she was giving me right now was probably doing permanent damage to my corneas, but I didn’t care. If the last sight my eyes ever saw on this earth was her gorgeous tits bouncing in my face while she rode my cock, then I’d be the happiest goddamn blind man on the planet with that beautiful image to comfort me.

  I held one soft breast in each hand and pinched the tips at the same time just to hear the sexy gasp of pleasure I knew she would make. She squeezed her inner muscles around my cock in response, and I knew I was going to fucking go over the edge again. But not until I took her along with me.

  I got my fingers between us and worked her slippery nub until I felt another squeeze gripping tight around my cock. “Say my name when you come, baby, I want to hear it.”

  Her eyes looked like liquid golden drops in the darkened room—so beautiful—wanton, wildly free as she reached the start of her climax.

  “Caaaaa-leb.” It was a shouted whisper, if there can be such a thing. Not loud—because it was softly formed—but something I would have heard her say clearly from across a noisy room. Because she was saying it to me . . . in a moment of total intimacy and complete trust, as we reached the peak together. I pumped everything I had left in me into her, our eyes locked on to one another as we rode it out. There weren’t words to describe it.

  She collapsed down on top of me, and I could feel her heart pounding against my chest. Mine was pounding, too. Our hearts just pounded into each other until things settled down and I could think. Thinking was hard, and my brain was exhausted. I wanted not to think, actually. But like the old saying goes, “don’t think of a pink elephant”—and then that’s exactly what your brain delivers up to you on a steaming plate. For me the pink elephant was the question of what she meant to me, and what I wanted from her. I don’t think I consciously knew, as only my subconscious was in the know there.

  I rolled us to the side and worked on dealing with the condom. The fuckin’ things were a pain, and I suddenly had an intense distaste for using them with Brooke. Another first for me. I wondered if I should be keeping a tally of my new philosophy on life where she was concerned. We could talk about it later I decided. Right now I wanted her breathing against me as I held her.

  She’d already fallen asleep, her head on my pillow, my heart in her hands. I kissed her forehead and stilled as I thought about how right this actually felt. Hadn’t known I was missing anything. Hadn’t known it was possible for someone to steal your heart without even knowing they’d done it. Hadn’t known I needed her. I whispered the words I’d never said before to a woman who wasn’t related to me.

  “I love you.”

  THE daylight streaming through the windows woke me when I reached for her, but she’d gone. I hoped she was still in the house, though, or I was going to go full-on panic attack mode. I inhaled deeply. Something smelled very good. Bacon? Was that frying bacon coming from the kitchen? Impossible—but maybe not? I made a quick stop to take a piss and brush my teeth. And drank a glass of water because I was insanely thirsty. I pulled on the sweats from last night and didn’t waste another second fucking around before searching out my Brooke and the delicious smells.

  She was cooking breakfast.

  In my kitchen.

  For us to share.

  I just watched her silently,
hoping she wouldn’t see me for a moment or two, so I could enjoy the vision of the woman I loved cooking for me the morning after giving me the most amazing night I’d ever experienced in my life.

  The flannel pajamas and the socks were back. She’d braided her hair again, too. Brooke was a busy girl as she divided her attention between scrambling eggs, turning bacon, and toasting bread. I could have watched her for an hour and been content.

  The curves of her perfect ass were shaped by the fabric of her pajamas as she moved side to side, working between the food prep. I remembered how it felt to have that sweet ass cradled in my hands as we fucked in the bathroom last night. I really hadn’t intended to start us there, so that’s why I moved us to the bed as soon as I physically could. I’d lost control is all. Just desperately, fucking crazy-out-of-my-mind to have her, to know what I was doing.

  She hadn’t complained or seemed to mind. She had been one hundred percent on board with everything.

  She’d also shared a lot of information about her past last night, from which my head was still reeling.

  I would have James find out the details on her husband. She’d mentioned his criminal family and I needed to know the story there. Marcus—the insane sociopath who’d hurt her—was hopefully roasting nicely in hell right about now. It was good he was dead—that way I didn’t have to kill him and spend the rest of my life in prison.

  I switched out that thought to something much better—and that was the number four.

  Four times last night. My personal record for an eight-hour span of time. I was goddamn proud of myself, too. I was probably on the verge of severe dehydration, though. I should drink some more water.

  “Good morning, Caleb.” Oh, that fucking gorgeous voice. It was as if it sang to me every time she spoke.

  “Good morning, beautiful.” I came up behind her and carefully wrapped an arm around her shoulders and the other around her waist. “How did you know I was here?”

 

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