Wicked Burn

by BETH KERY

Her hands remained above her head when he released her wrists and knelt between her thighs. Niall’s hips rose reflexively at the sight of his beautiful, rippling torso and jutting erection. God, she felt like an animal in heat. She was offering her body to him mindlessly, desperate for release from the tight, unbearable friction that plagued her. He merely captured her hips in his big hands and rolled her over on the bed. By the way he pulled up on her hips, she could tell he wanted her to present her ass in the air for him.

  She slid her knees up beneath her hips, spread her thighs, and did just that, as primitive in that moment as a horny female who instinctively readied herself to be mounted by an alpha male.

  They both groaned in agony when he leaned over to his bedside drawer and rustled inside, finally pulling out a black silk scarf. He grabbed the bottle of lubrication at the same time.

  “I’m going to have to tie you up, Niall,” he explained quietly as he reached for one wrist and then the other, placing them at her lower back. “You’re so turned on, I’m scared you’ll make yourself come.”

  Niall whimpered into the mattress, but not in protest. Not really. She knew he was probably right. Her clit felt more swollen and achy than it ever had in her life. The plug in her ass made the nerve endings all along her sacrum tingle and burn unbearably. When she felt Vic finish a firm knot around both her wrists, she wiggled her rear in a silent plea.

  She knew he’d heard her request when he gave her right ass cheek a gentle swat of reprimand. She heard the cap flip open on the lubricant. A few anxious seconds passed and then Vic was gripping the base of the plug and drawing it out of her.

  “Oh!” Niall cried out in mixed pain and pleasure as her anus stretched over the fat rim. But then it popped out and she immediately wanted to be filled again.

  She didn’t have long to wait. Vic pushed back firmly on her right buttock. She felt the cool air on her ass and realized that he kept her newly opened tunnel spread wide. Her eyes clenched shut tight at the feeling of him pressing the tip of his slippery cock inside the sensitive opening.

  “That’s right,” he soothed and encouraged at once when she held steady for him. “Press back against me, Niall. Take it.”

  She did as he ordered and cried out brokenly when the fat head of his penis slid into her body. The next thing she knew, the electric buzzing started again on her clit, this time at the quickest speed she’d experienced thus far. The pain of having Vic’s cock inside of her ass segued into a burning arousal so fast that she almost choked in shock. But then Vic held her buttocks between his hands and sank in another two inches, and the pain ratcheted up a notch again, preventing her orgasm.

  “You can come when you take all of my cock,” he informed her hoarsely.

  Niall nodded, her flushed cheek brushing the soft sheets. She couldn’t speak at that moment as the thick stalk of his penis penetrated her ass and she tottered on the edge between pain and shattering ecstasy. The butterfly kept fluttering away at her swollen clit as Vic pushed into her even farther. She began to tremble uncontrollably as he began to pump the first half of his cock in and out of her.

  “Ahhhh!” she cried out wildly. Her body shook with a fine tremor as sensations pervaded her like nothing she’d ever experienced.

  “Hold steady, baby,” she heard Vic whisper gruffly, as if at a distance. “Hold on . . . just let me . . .”

  Niall pushed her ass against him, desperate for him to fill her so that she could finally find the fulfillment he’d promised. She stretched to accommodate him, but her hunger and her need to harbor him were so great that she felt relatively little pain. When she heard Vic curse, and his fully embedded cock jerked in such an intimate place in her body, she dived headfirst into the dizzying depths of orgasm.

  Vic told himself to shut his eyes as Niall screamed and her entire body started to ripple and shudder in climax. He’d never felt her come this powerfully. The sensation was incredible, and sufficient in and of itself to have him howling in orgasm if he let his restraint snap free. But he couldn’t bring himself to do either. Instead, he tortured himself by watching the intensely erotic sight of Niall coming while his cock was buried to the hilt in her ass. Her supremely tight, muscular channel milked his cock mercilessly, as though it had a mind of its own and was desperately thirsty for the quenching fountain of his cum.

  By the time her electrical convulsions waned, sweat dripped between the ridges of his abdomen muscles. Wondering if he was some kind of masochist, he reached between her thighs and thrust two fingers into her pussy.

  “Fuck, yeah,” he muttered almost unintelligibly. Silky liquid gushed from her warm channel, but with a quick flick of his fingers he realized that her entire exterior was drenched as well. All of her pubic hair was wet, but around her puffy labia and swollen clit she dripped with juices.

  He snarled with feral arousal and pinched a luscious lip, making her ass jump with surprise. He came down over her, supporting himself with his arms on the headboard.

  She howled when he started to thrust in and out of her, but Vic could tell she did so in the deepest arousal, not pain. Or at least he hoped he wasn’t projecting his experience onto her, because it felt so decadently good to fuck her hot little ass that he didn’t think he could have stopped himself if he tried.

  He was a goner, to be sure.

  It seemed as if his whole world quaked for the next moments as he rocketed into her again and again, and she met him thrust for thrust. She took him on a hedonistic fantasy ride of a lifetime, allowing him to plunge into her forcefully time and again, and sending her butt up eagerly for more every time he withdrew. Niall was so small that he’d never have guessed she’d have been able to take such a thorough, rough ride, but she did.

  God, did she ever.

  Sweat beaded on his belly and spilled onto Niall’s glistening back and ass with each powerful crashing impact of their bodies. It got so that Vic couldn’t have formulated his own name in his mind, he’d become such a primitive creature of pure, driving lust.

  Still, the sound of Niall screaming, the sensation of her contracting around him as she climaxed once again pierced his awareness loud and clear. As if he’d been given some kind of long-awaited, desperately sought-for sign, he smacked his pelvis into her ass one last time, pressed her plump cheeks tightly against his balls, and roared as orgasm tore through him.

  He poured himself into her endlessly, not realizing until later that every last defense that he’d erected from the first moment he’d laid eyes on Niall Chandler had just been incinerated to a fine-grained ash.

  TWENTY

  Half an hour later Niall came out of Vic’s bathroom after having washed up. She still felt a little disoriented from their lovemaking. It had taken both of them a good twenty minutes following their scorching climaxes to find the strength to move. Neither of them had done more than grunt in exhaustion as they clung to each other like two survivors of a chaotic storm. A few minutes ago Niall had stumbled to the bathroom, but Vic still lay on his side on the bed, naked and beautiful and obviously completely sated.

  Niall couldn’t quite identify the strange feeling that overcame her as she studied him. Only his singular gray eyes moved as he watched her slowly cross the room toward him. For some reason Niall was reminded of the first time they’d made love, when they’d crashed into each other’s universes so wholly, so brilliantly, and afterward how they had been so separate . . . so far from each other.

  No, that wasn’t entirely correct. In fact, Niall had never felt closer to Vic in her life. Her eyes caressed his long, lean body, loving every taut plane and hard ridge with her gaze. The heavy feeling inside of her swelled until it felt as though her chest would burst.

  It was the knowledge that she didn’t know how he felt about her that was making her so uncertain. Or maybe she did suspect, and that was what made her so heart sore.

  Something flickered across Vic’s face as he stared at her.

  “Are you okay?” he rasped.

 
She nodded quickly.

  His brow furrowed, and he sat up on his elbow.

  “You’re not . . . hurt or anything, are you?”

  “Of course not,” she mumbled. Her cheeks flushed hot when she thought about what they’d just done in that bed. It amazed her how her desire for him transformed her into a wild, carnal creature she barely recognized. It took about two seconds of Vic touching her, and she morphed into that alternate existence completely.

  “Then come here,” he demanded softly.

  Niall stepped forward at the sound of his compelling voice, but something made her waver. What was it? What had started to plague her consciousness ever since she’d gone into the bathroom a few minutes ago? Her eyes fell on the empty bag that still lay in the bedside table, crumpled and forgotten.

  But she hadn’t forgotten.

  She quickly stepped over to the side of the bed and bent to find her pajama shorts. She pulled them up over her legs.

  “Niall? What are you doing?” Vic asked as he slowly sat up to watch her, an expression of bemusement on his face.

  Niall swallowed heavily, willing the bitter taste from her mouth. “You said . . .” She cleared her throat when she realized how hoarse she sounded. “You said that you were going to give those things to me last Christmas?” she asked as she bent and retrieved her pajama top.

  Vic’s chin shifted to the items on the bedside table, including the little yellow butterfly, which she’d removed before going to the bathroom.

  “Yeah,” Vic said slowly after a moment, a wary expression settling on his features.

  Niall nodded quickly as she buttoned her pajama top with trembling fingers. “That’s what I thought you said.” Tears gathered in her eyes so rapidly that she kept her head lowered, not wanting Vic to see them.

  That was it. That was what had been eating at her. She knew it was stupid. She knew Vic would never understand. But she felt so raw at that moment, so opened up, so vulnerable . . . so uncertain.

  He’d bought her sex toys for Christmas.

  He’d bought her sex toys during what she’d considered the most intimate, romantic time of their burgeoning relationship. When she thought of what she’d planned to give him for Christmas, a rush of mortification surged through her.

  She’d endlessly researched online and finally found something at an auction house that she thought was worthy of him and that he might really cherish—a monogrammed ink pen that had once belonged to Arthur Miller. Vic had told her before how much he admired the American playwright.

  Could there be anything that better symbolized the truth of how Vic must really feel about her?

  God, she’d made such a fool of herself coming here, intruding on his personal space when he’d made it clear he didn’t want her there—

  “What’s wrong? Niall.”

  But for once she ignored her instinctive urge to respond to Vic completely. She never even flinched as she jogged barefoot toward the farmhouse, on the gravel turnabout, several seconds later. Her inner pain utterly consumed her entire awareness.

  Vic sagged into one of the tall, supple leather chairs at the elegant bar of Toulouse several days later, feeling completely defeated.

  Damn it all, if Niall wasn’t back to being as elusive as ever. She wasn’t answering her cell phone. She wasn’t at her loft in Chicago—or if she was, she didn’t pick up when the doorman rang her several times at Vic’s request. He’d never actually been inside Niall’s personal office in the museum, but he’d met her a few times in the more public work space where her administrative assistant, Kendra Phillips, worked. He’d met Kendra on those occasions, but the vivacious blonde’s desk was empty when Vic showed up that afternoon. Thinking she most likely was at lunch, he’d wandered down to the upscale restaurant housed inside the museum in order to think.

  As to what the hell had happened two nights ago in his bedroom . . . Vic was still busy puzzling that one out. When he’d watched Niall come out of the bathroom, a flicker of panic had gone through him when he registered the expression on her face. Had he hurt her physically? He’d been far from gentle with her there at the end, but she’d seemed just as eager and wild for the ride as he was. The realization that he might have harmed her caused a wrenching sensation in his gut.

  Then she’d asked that question about the sex toys, and his uncertainty had spiraled into confusion, which eventually progressed into a vortex of regret. What had made him pull sex toys out of the closet at that moment, for Christ’s sake?

  He’d hardly left her feeling secure with their relationship, after all.

  You told her the only relationship that existed between you was a sexual one. You told her that what had happened between you before was a brief, nearly forgettable relationship of convenience , he reminded himself bitterly. Not a brilliant move before subjecting her to the type of sex that requires the deepest form of trust. What’s more, why had he done such a thing right after she’d revealed something as intimate as the fact that she’d had a child . . . that she’d lost a child?

  All in all, Vic was starting to understand all too well why Niall had fled up to her room the other night and come downstairs several minutes later, fully dressed. He’d tried to stop her, but in the end there’d been nothing he could do but watch her get in her car and pull out of the driveway—unless he bodily restrained her.

  He’d tried to reach her on her cell phone several times yesterday and this morning, only to grow sick with frustration every time he heard her recorded voice repeat the same lines over and over again.

  Vic had been talking with an equally concerned Meg on Sunday evening when the phone rang in the kitchen. The way that Meg glanced at him immediately when she answered gave him his first clue that Niall was on the other end of the line. He’d approached Meg and held out his hand tensely, but Meg had just shaken her head as she spoke to Niall.

  When she said good-bye and hung up before Vic could grab the phone, he had stared at her in open-mouthed shock.

  Damn if he’d ever be able to understand women! First Meg was pushing Niall on him when he wasn’t ready, and now she was leashing him when he was straining at the bit to talk to her.

  “What’d you do that for? You knew I wanted to talk to her,” he’d accused incredulously.

  “I know, Vic . . . but she said . . . she said she was fine. She . . .” Meg had swallowed and glanced away uncomfortably. “She said she didn’t want to talk to you right now.”

  “What else did she say?” Vic had demanded after a tense silence.

  “She asked me to cancel her class tomorrow.” She must have noticed Vic’s reaction, because she added quickly, “But she assured me that she would be back for Wednesday’s class. She said she just needed a little time . . .”

  But Vic had been too worried about Niall to give her time. He’d gotten into his truck before dawn had fully broken after a sleepless night and driven up to Chicago to try to find her . . . to try to make things right.

  If that was possible . . .

  The bartender who approached him looked wary when he noticed the scowl on Vic’s face.

  “Can I get you something, sir?”

  “Scotch on the rocks.”

  He glanced around the crowded restaurant blankly. The bar was the only place that had seating. The museum was filled with tourists. Even though she worked here, it suddenly struck Vic that there wasn’t a more unlikely place to locate Niall than this restaurant.

  Maybe he’d try to call Niall’s friend Anne Rothman. She might have a clue as to where Niall might have gone. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. Surely he still had Anne’s number—

  “Don’t I know you?” a man sitting several chairs down from him at the bar asked.

  Vic’s gaze ran over the man. He wore a preppy pink button-down and a dark blue blazer with anchors on the gold buttons. A flicker of irritation went through him when he recognized the man’s face.

  “No,” he stated flatly before he flipped open his cell phone,
pointedly ignoring the intrusion.

  The dark-haired man stood and grabbed his drink before he scooted closer down the bar. “No, I do. I’ve met you before—”

  “Don’t think so.”

  The man’s puzzled transformed into recognition. “Hey, you’re that jerk who ran me out of Niall Chandler’s place.”

  Vic gave him a blazing glare of irritation that made speech unnecessary.

  Evan Forrester’s pique melted when he saw it. He plopped down into the chair next to Vic’s.

  “Ahh, I got nothing agains’ you, I guess,” Evan said. “Niall Chandler’s the kind of woman who turns all men into raving lunatics. You’d think I’d have learned by now to avoid a woman that beautiful.” He took another long draw on his martini and held up the empty glass as a signal for the bartender to get him another.

  “She wouldn’t have anything to do with me after that night. She’s a cold one. If I’d a known about her history, I would a steered clear of her. Woman like that’s gotta be a bit . . .” Evan paused and twirled his finger next to this temple. “Still, she’s so gorgeous . . . and despite that frigid thing she’s got going on, she really doesn’t seem too crazy at all,” Evan conceded thoughtfully. “Hope you were luckier than me getting her into the sack, pal.”

  Vic felt torn between wanting to hammer the guy’s preppy, drunken face and refraining from the instinct because he needed him conscious in order to explain what he’d just said.

  “What’d you mean about her history?” he asked, ignoring the bartender as he set his Scotch in front of him and pinning Evan Forrester with his stare.

  Evan raised his black eyebrows significantly. “Guess you never got around to getting to know your pretty neighbor too well, huh?”

  That flipped Vic’s “pissed off” switch quicker than he cared to admit. He leaned forward a mere half inch, his eyes boring into Evan.

  “I asked you a question.”

  Evan’s eyes widened.

  “Oh, right.” He laughed too loud, his eyes finding the bartender to check the progress of his martini. “Nobody ever told me the story, either. Niall’s got lots of loyal soldiers around her. But even Niall Chandler Sr. isn’t powerful enough to hush up all the facts about his little princess.