Into His Dark

by Angel Payne

  No sweet nipple tweak for that one. He raised his hand into my hair. Coiled the strands hard. Twisted me toward him for a take-no-prisoners kiss. I was actually thankful for the overhead bar now. Without it, I was damn sure I’d be collapsing in dizzy desire.

  “You shall never be unfulfilled in my arms.”

  I breathed harder. Battled against the urge to point out that his promise, in all its heartbeat-flipping glory, wasn’t necessary. “Fulfilling my passion” wasn’t going to be his “privilege” beyond these moments.

  Back to the subject.

  “I was alone,” I asserted. “All the times. Every time.”

  A canine rumble loped up his throat. “Hmmm. I like the sound of that. And were you…naked?”

  “Yes.” I half-sighed it as my eyes slid shut. I saw the ceiling of my bedroom. Smelled the fabric softener in my sheets. The only difficult element to remember was the stillness of the condo. The world was a tumult right now. Thrumming blood in my veins. Pounding lust in my sex. And the seductive snarls of the world’s most incredible man in my ear. “I was naked…and usually all it took was a thought of you to make me wet.”

  Evrest pressed his lips to my ear again. He was breathing hard. “What kind of thought?”

  “I usually pictured you stripping me. Slowly, like a gift you’d been waiting a long time to open, your hands exploring every part of me as you did. By the time you were done, you were nude, too.”

  “How talented of my fantasy self.” His breaths harshened. “What did I do then? Something like this?” He slid his hand up my arm to wrap it over mine, meshing our fingers so he held the bar, too.

  I nipped at his neck. “Your fantasy self wasn’t nearly this genius.”

  “Shame on my fantasy self.”

  “He was talented in other ways.”

  “Oh?” Finally he shoved my jeans down, swiftly working them around my knees before tossing them off the bed. I trembled when he was finished, because he’d left the red panties in place—and glanced down at them with clear purpose. He had plans for the underwear, that much was certain. Not knowing exactly what was another journey into unnerving. “Such as what?” His new initiative didn’t help. Instead of fitting his body to mine again, he remained inches away. Might as well have been miles. My body arched toward him. My skin pricked with need. And the little shivers that helped to drench the fabric he fixated on? Fast approaching unbearable.

  But I did know one thing. Did I want relief? I needed to talk. “It was…mostly what you did with your fingers,” I confessed. “Somehow, even then, I knew how beautiful they were.”

  His face remained dark. But my words warmed him. The trend was clear in his eyes. “And what did I do…with these ‘beautiful’ fingers of mine?”

  “Magic.” I got it out—barely—just before he hooked two fingers around the panel at the middle of my panties. He gave a little twist, turning the fabric into a silk cord that rubbed my most vulnerable flesh.

  A moan tore up my throat. My whole body shook. Oh hell, was that good—and got even better. He stroked me again. Again. Again. Ohhh, yes!

  I was bared and open, trembling harder with every second, totally at his mercy. My nipples were rocks. My body was a string of sensuality, taut and tuned—ready for him.

  Surreal. This was so surreal. I’d never felt more alive, more aroused—or more distant from the person I knew as me.

  I didn’t miss her a damn bit.

  “Magic like this?” His voice matched the command of his features. I nodded, grateful for the excuse to stare at him.

  So beautiful…

  He had to be more mythical creature than man. His burnished skin, bulging muscle, and mesmeric eyes surely weren’t mortal—yet here he was, honing every breathtaking iota of it on me. Into me. No matter what his hands busied themselves with, he didn’t look away.

  And damn, were his hands busy. While he kept up the panty-twisting torment, he used two more fingers for swiping at the outer lips of my core. He was merciless…magical. I tingled and pulsed. Quivered and needed.

  Was this what they taught princes at European university now? And if so, why the hell hadn’t I opted for a semester in the exchange program?

  “Answer me, Camellia. Was this what I did in your fantasies?

  Perfectly timed. Thank God. I needed to concentrate on something other than all the exquisite shivers he brought, radiating from every new stroke to the throbbing tissues between my legs. “M-maybe,” I stammered. “A little. Oh, shit…” So much for distraction. He slowly shifted his fingers inward, circling the sensitive rim of my deepest tunnel. “Okay, maybe more than a little.”

  “I’m listening.” He pushed, entering me a little. Withdrew, swirling his fingers around the entrance again. I bucked and tried to get him back inside but his other hand clawed my ass, forcing me to stillness. “Tell me, sevette. Be dirty if you want. Let me hear the things your darkest dreams are made of.”

  My head fell forward, against his chest. Crazy. This was crazy, right? “Darkest dreams”? Wasn’t that like getting invited into the haunted house at the end of the street? Not a wise move. Not a safe move.

  But what if the creepy guy in the house was Evrest Cimarron? And his weapon was a blade so hot, hard, and perfect, getting stabbed was suddenly the story’s happy ending?

  Screw wise. Screw safe.

  “Y-your fingers. Just like that,” I rasped. “Only—they were—spreading me.”

  “Spreading you,” he repeated, twisting both his fingers back inside. “You mean here? In your gorgeous little pussy?”

  “Y-yes.” I moaned it. “Right there. A lot like that.”

  “Pushing into your body like this? Stretching your cunt?”

  “Yes. Like that! Oh…Evrest…please…deeper…”

  Every gorgeous inch of his body had already been radiating sensual tension—but when I pleaded his name, new energy unclicked inside him. Suddenly, he was a beast off its leash. He snarled against my neck before fully biting down. As I let out a high, loud shriek, he ripped at my underwear, sending it halfway down my thighs. His fingernails followed, scoring the back of my left thigh.

  Do it again. Do it again.

  Too late. He wrenched my senses away to a new focus. His fingers, now thrusting in and out of me, left no doubt about his purpose. I shoved my hips back, matching him pump-for-pump. Got the message, lover? The sooner he replaced his fingers with other body parts, the better.

  “This is a very good fantasy, Camellia.”

  “Uh-huh.” It was ragged at best. I could barely think past the heaven of his fingers, pleasuring me in brutal, hard thrusts. His palm slapped my body with every stab, setting up a hypnotic cadence. My head spun, disengaging from my body, becoming a separate entity of energy and feeling and awakening.

  Holy shit. I wasn’t the girl who’d “gotten around” much in my life, but I was pretty sure this was off-the-charts sex by anyone’s standards—and Evrest wasn’t even inside me yet.

  “You feel so good. So tight against my fingers. And you smell so good, sevette. Your pussy is such a sweet flower. I want to inhale you all night. And maybe all day tomorrow, too.”

  And then there were words like that. Things he said, surpassing anything my measly dreams could have concocted—meaning my “flower” was damn near ready to burst now.

  “Evrest.” I had to twist my hands to keep my grip on the bar. They were slick now, just like the rest of my body. I shivered as sweat trickled between my breasts and down my back. My pussy was soaked, its cream serving as lubricant for the hand he splayed across my backside, teasing into the crevice between my cheeks. Even the tissues there were sensitive. “Evrest,” I echoed. “Damn. Please. Please.”

  Little creases appeared at the corners of his mouth. “Please what, little lighting?”

  “You know what. If you don’t—if we don’t—pretty soon—”

  “Is that what we do in your fantasy?”

  I longed to avert my eyes. Both of his
narrowed, clear with command. You will not dare.

  “S-sometimes,” I whispered.

  “Sometimes…what?”

  I groaned. He was going to make me say it. “Sometimes…we have full-blown sex.”

  His lips quirked. “Do you mean we fuck?”

  I ignored his satisfied smirk when I coated his fingers with new moisture. That word…on his lips…it only left me with one choice of answer.

  “Yes.”

  The hand on my ass formed into a claw of reprimand. “Say it, Camellia. You can say everything to me. Your nastiest thoughts and desires. Say it.”

  Squirm. Wince. Comfortable and I weren’t going to be buddies tonight. But at the moment, that felt…good. Freeing. The big spooky house at the end of the block? It wasn’t deadly. It was…interesting. I liked exploring the dark corners, hearing the new noises. A lot.

  “Yes, Evrest,” I confessed. “Yes. In my fantasies, we fuck.”

  Shadows claimed more of his face. Somehow, his stubble had thickened in the last minute, as well.

  “Like this?”

  He stretched his fingers higher up into me. And, while keeping my stare fastened with the peridot intensity of his, added a third finger.

  “Oh! Damn!”

  The fresh clench of his jaw turned me on as much as his fingers. “As hard as this?” As he set up a brutal pace from the front, he pushed at my cheeks from the back. Everything down there turned to chaos. Heat. Pressure. Arousal. Need.

  And need.

  And need.

  “Oh. Ohhhh!” He’d fully gathered the storm clouds now—and I was the downpour, waiting to break free. The build-up was unbearable. My womb ached as his fingers pounded in, electric arcs reaching out, begging for explosion. My eyes rolled back, making my head swim again. I couldn’t believe he made me feel this way with his fingers alone.

  “Tell me.” Not a lover’s persuasion. A ruler’s decree, making no excuses for what he commanded. The words. I’d give him my needs in words, the filthier the better. No negotiation. No turning back.

  “D-don’t stop.” I started with the easy stuff and got more intense. “Please. Oh please, don’t stop fucking me. As hard as that. As deep as that. Stretch me, Evrest. Make me ready for your cock.”

  His growl resonated with his pleasure. “Perfect. You are so naughty and wicked and perfect, little Camellia.”

  “Not so hard…when done for you.” The words spilled out before I could rein them in. Shit. Like the man needed me spewing something like that, all mushy and overcommitted and stupid, right in the middle of a stellar booty call for us both.

  To my relief, he returned a generous smile—though a carnal gleam lighted his eyes. “Then my next command will be even easier to meet.”

  He worked a fourth finger into my tunnel. At the same time, he swiped his thumb across the most enlivened set of nerves in my body. Pressed in with expert precision. And unfurled a beautiful, feral grin.

  “Come, Camellia. Come for me…now.”

  Whoa.

  He had to be kidding. Right? A woman didn’t just orgasm on command. I was the control freak with issues about letting go. I knew this one inside and out. And a few other ways, too.

  Famous last words.

  As the force of the man’s voice lashed through me, ensnaring every drop of my blood and force of my will, my last tendrils of restraint busted free. The pearl beneath his thumb was the first part of my body to let them go.

  Turning his order for my obedience into the final latch on my cage.

  I flew toward the stars.

  Burning.

  Exploding.

  Disintegrating.

  Falling.

  Really falling.

  “Dammit!”

  The force of my climax collided with the drag of the nectar. I slipped from the bar, tumbling into Evrest’s waiting arms. He easily lowered me to the pillows, still grinding his fingers into me. While stretching beside me, he kept the pleasure rolling. His whispered string of Arcadian was more beautiful in the zero sense it made. His tone built in intensity as my inner muscles clamped on him again, and I cried out in shock as a second climax hit; surprise, surprise; a rogue comet in the best cosmos I’d ever been to.

  Floating down from the impact took me a few long minutes, as I tried to process it had even happened. That any of this had happened. Was I really lying in a cocoon as downy as a cloud, next to my own flawless angel, shivering in the aftermath of two soul-searing orgasms?

  I turned and looked at said angel. Who was still flawless. And incredible. Yet stared back like I was the perfect thing, blown glass that might shatter any second.

  “Evrest.”

  I needed to hear myself say it. Hoped it would make everything more handle-able.

  “Hmmm?”

  Nope. Not a chance. Not when he answered me with such reverence, before stroking my hairline in the exact same way. Tingles flowed over my scalp until tumbling down my body, only confirming everything about all this was indeed real.

  “Handle-able” got tossed right out the window.

  Because grasping this reality…meant thinking about giving it up.

  The tears burst over me like a surprise squall. Ugh. Ding-dong; karma calling. The wench couldn’t wait to collect for the climaxes, hitting hard and ruthless, even with Evrest’s fingers still inside me. From post-climax calm to hysterical sobs in under a minute.

  My hands slammed to my face. Apologies tumbled out. I anticipated—hoped—that Evrest would deal by kissing it out of me, then screwing me senseless. I yearned to be tangled in him again. Around him.

  He didn’t kiss me.

  Confusion.

  Or make any move, except to yank the bed cover around us both.

  Lots of confusion.

  If that page out of the perfect reactions book wasn’t enough, he yanked me tighter in, pulling me into the shell now formed of his arms and the comforter, crooning more Arcadian. But like before, I didn’t want a translation. The litany of the words, spoken in his velvet voice, communicated all I needed. Strength. Solace. A moment, just one, of feeling completely cherished. Wanted. More than just a quick stop in someone’s life before they moved on to something better.

  But entertaining the thought made me start bawling all over again.

  “Camellia,” came his rough whisper. “Camellia. Oh sevette, what is it?”

  His stress twisted at my heart. But I couldn’t blurt the truth. Couldn’t confess that I’d let this—and him—mean more than I should have.

  Get to the safe route and use it.

  “Don’t let go.” There. The ultimate safety road. I nestled against him, childlike and needy, happy not to feign that part. “Just don’t let go yet. Okay?”

  “Okay.” He broke the word in half, two formalities strung together by the valiant velvet of his voice. It melted me even more for him. And against him.

  And brought a fresh sting to the backs of my eyes.

  I tried to swipe them but Evrest caught my fingers, kissing their tips. “Let them fall, sevette. I will not melt.”

  I pulled from his grip, letting my hand explore down, over the part of him that still throbbed, erect and ready. “Apparently not.”

  To my shock, he yanked my fingers back his chest. “Ssshhh. We shall get to it.”

  I lifted my head, firing a scowl. “Damn right we will.”

  He chuckled. “We have all night, Camellia.”

  My scowl turned into a yawn. “Damn right we do.”

  Shit. Shit. The blood that had been sprinting through my body suddenly took a rest break. I blinked, struggling to keep my equilibrium, but he pulled me into a long, tender kiss before coaxing my head against his chest. His heartbeat resounded in my ear…as he flowed his knuckles down the center of my back.

  Ohhh, this wasn’t good.

  Or fair.

  But so perfect.

  Which meant that for just a little while longer, the reality outside the room could wait on the fantasy insid
e.

  And that was more than fine by me.

  Chapter Eight

  ‡

  Never considered myself actress material. Ever.

  The next twelve hours changed that.

  I walked back to my office after an executive team lunch in Harry’s suite, wondering where my statue was for Best Lead Actress, the God-Awful-Hangover/Post-World-Rocking-Sex category. My performance had been stellar. Sarcasm. Smiles. Wit. Intelligence. Even attentive to the food on my plate. Nobody—not even Harry, Crowe, or Dottie, who all knew how much I truly drank last night—thought to ask me about the state of my stomach or my head now.

  Just the way I wanted it.

  Fate finally decided to be a pal again, cooperating with excellent timing. The second unit had a pre-dawn call on the beach¸ ensuring nobody witnessed my walk of shame back to my room around six. An hour before that, Evrest had learned firsthand how I could sleep like the dead, though he’d enjoyed the numerous attempts it took to kiss me awake. Finally, he’d roused me enough to stand, before walking me back to the real world through a passage slightly more conventional than the one I’d used to find his harem hidey hole last night. When we emerged on the ground level of the palais, it was through a panel in his business office—disguised as a floor-to-ceiling mural of a lightning storm over the ocean. I’d glanced at the painting but was thankful for the mental fog of the hangover, preventing me from reading any more into it than the beauty of the image.

  By the time I was capable of coherent thought, I was two hours behind on the day and four items behind on my to-do list. The stress was actually a godsend. Focusing on the countdown to the next three days of the shoot, involving us all traveling to the other side of the island and camping out there, gave me a walloping excuse to shunt last night—and all the burning memories of it—onto a huge mental burner.

  But thoughts of the man responsible for them? Not such an easy kettle to slide around.

  Evrest.

  Evrest.

  Somehow, in some way, he’d woven himself into the very beats of my heart. Sometimes the pound was so loud, my ears rang and my stomach ached. Others, it was just a comforting thrum, reminding me all over again of the gentle pressure he’d used to wake me up this morning…and the sweet strokes he’d used to put me to sleep last night.