Within Temptation

by Tanya Holmes

  “Trace? What’s wrong?”

  He hesitated, his throat working. “It’s your first time. I don’t wanna screw it up.”

  “How could you possibly do that?”

  He ran his palms beneath the robe, over my bare bottom, and squeezed. “It’s just that…well, being near you makes me want to come.”

  I swallowed, licked my lips.

  “I don’t know how long I can make it last,” he said. “Understand?”

  I nodded in earnest, and offered a logical solution. “Ever heard the phrase, ‘if at first you don’t succeed, try, try again’? And again, and again….”

  Trace’s eyes softened and he shook his head as if I was being naughty. His smile was a slow presentation of white teeth against a backdrop of tanned flesh and dimples. “Oh, yeah,” he whispered. “That’ll work.”

  He tugged my robe off, tossed it on the floor then pulled a blanket over us. Suddenly, I was on my back and Trace was on top, nudging my legs apart. He kissed his way down my stomach to the place that ached the most.

  “Trace,” I gasped.

  With his thumbs, he parted my folds and exposed me to his smoldering stare. I knew what he saw—wet, hot, swollen, pink flesh.

  He smiled. “You got no idea how much I been aching for another taste.”

  Before I knew it, he’d shoved his hands under my derrière and tugged me closer. Then he found me, throbbing and desperately hot for him. He attacked the nub his fingers had roused, drew it into his mouth like one would a straw. He was ruthless.

  On and on, it went, with him taking me higher and higher, until I was close to kissing the sun. But right before I was about to burn he stopped to slowly circle his tongue around my clitoris, forcing me back down to earth.

  A sob spilled out of me. “Please….”

  “Soon,” he promised, drawing me back into his mouth.

  Soon was another ten minutes of sweet agony. Endless minutes of him kissing, licking, and sucking—a torturous eternity that pushed my body to the very edge. Only after much begging, did he finally grant me mercy, and this time, he didn’t stop. He kept the suction going while I hovered over a precipice, waiting to fly or fall.

  I circled my hips to the rhythm he set, fisted his hair, and cried his name the moment I exploded into a thousand shards. Tremors reverberated throughout my body until I wilted into the mattress, dead to the world.

  Trace flicked his tongue over me one last time before he kissed his way back up my stomach to suckle my lips, soft and slow. Then he left the bed and the rocking motion stirred me from the daze I was in. My eyes drifted open, and the first thing I saw was the enormous erection straining his boxers.

  I stifled a gasp. Dear God, now it was even bigger.

  He slipped the waistband over his hips without preamble, and his sex sprang loose, distended and stabbing in my direction. My eyes widened. I’d felt its impressive thickness, weight, and length yesterday, but I hadn’t ‘seen it.’ And seeing made all the difference.

  Memory flashed to that morning at the plaza, to the crude store clerks huddled in the corner: ‘Word has it he’s got an anaconda between his legs….’

  They hadn’t exaggerated.

  TRACE

  ____________________________

  I was scared as hell. What did I know about virgins? Nada. Zip. Every woman I’d ever lain with had been experienced. Getting inside Shannon wouldn’t be easy. It was a simple matter of physics. She was tiny, and I was…bigger. I would hurt her, I knew, and this time, she’d be the one bleeding.

  I took a strengthening breath, grabbed my towel from the dresser, and joined her on the bed. After I’d settled between her thighs, I couldn’t help but notice how tense she’d become. I wasn’t faring any better.

  “You’re trembling,” she said, breathless.

  I examined her face intently. My heart thumped to the point of pain. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  Emotion burned in her eyes. “I know.”

  “And the fact that you saved yourself—”

  “For you.”

  My throat got tight. I cleared it, swallowed. “Well, it means a lot to me.”

  She framed my face in her hands and fit her lips to mine. I kissed her back with fierce possession, just to let her know how much I treasured her. I wanted to take my time—wanted to love her good and long, but I was spike-hard, and in desperate need of the release only she could give me.

  To ease the ache, I guided her fingers to my cock. I fit her tiny palm around the head, cupped my hand over hers, and whispered instructions on how to hold and caress me. She was a quick study. Her touch was light, yet effective. Didn’t take long before she had me moaning her name. My eyes trembled shut, and when I could take no more, I brushed her hand away.

  I got a rubber from the nightstand and tore the packet with my teeth, but my hands shook. It took four tries, before I could cover myself.

  “Wrap your legs around me,” I rasped, sliding my hips into place.

  She stared up at me with trust in her eyes. “Like this?”

  “Yeah, just like that.” I reached between our bodies and grasped my swollen staff, rubbing the head around her center to spread the moisture. “Now raise up,” I told her, my words hoarse, strained. Once she did, I shoved the towel beneath her bottom, then eased into her. “That’s it. Shhhh. Just like—”

  I groaned when I slipped the head in, squeezing my eyes shut to fight the demands of my body. Waves of dark pleasure rippled through me. I pressed into her again, but after her flesh resisted, I withdrew.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, moving my mouth over hers in apology. “So sorry….” Then without warning, I thrust into her and rent her innocence. She lurched against me, her back curving like an archer’s bow as her muffled gasp of pain filled the room. I was damn near womb-deep. So deep, I could feel her heart thrash. “Sweetheart please please don’t move don’t…mmmh.”

  A minute went by before I could speak again. Once I caught my breath, I gazed down at this gift from God, and my heart tilted. My worst fear had come to pass. I’d hurt her.

  “I’m all right.” Her smile was tremulous. “Really, I am,” she whispered on a sob. Tears rushed down the sides of her face like raindrops on glass.

  My little Pinocchio wasn’t such a good liar after all.

  “Oh, my sweet girl.” Rolling my hips, I kissed the corners of her eyes. “I’ll make it good for you. I swear.”

  And I was a man of my word.

  I slowly withdrew and slid home again. My body trembled from the effort. She was so small and so achingly tight. I had to be careful. I’d thought a rubber would dull the sensation, but she felt even better than I’d imagined.

  I’d been at it five minutes when I first felt the change. The tenseness left her body. She circled her hips experimentally, and a look of wonder lit her face.

  That’s when my control snapped and I thrust into her with abandon. She was a virgin. Pure. Untouched. And she’d given herself to me. She was mine, this—I pulled out and rammed back into her—this was mine. Some primitive instinct took pride in that. I was mating, claiming, penetrating.

  Damn if I didn’t feel like a caveman.

  I swept my tongue inside her mouth, all the while, stroking her inner walls down below. I knew I should take it easy, but I’d suffered through too many wet dreams. I couldn’t stop. Just like I’d imagined, she was wetter than wet. Hotter than hot. A velvet vise that tightened the deeper I sank. She held on fast while I took, then gave right back.

  Somewhere in the back of my brain reality called. Velvet vise. How could she feel this good with a condom? The truth slapped me like a wet hand. “Oh, crap,” I gasped. “It broke.” She tightened her legs around me as I drove in again, unable to stop. “Damn it, the…rubber—it broke. I gotta pull out.”

  But she wouldn’t let me. She dug her nails into my butt to hold me in place. Satin thighs imprisoned my ribcage, drew me in deeper. She wasn’t about to let me go, and I didn’t hav
e the strength or will to fight her.

  Pleasure speared through my cock, from root to tip. With the condom gone, I could feel every silky ridge of her, could feel the frayed piece of rubber bunch with each drag and thrust. The friction felt indescribable. I suckled her nipple, all the while stroking the same spot inside her until she gasped. Somehow I knew that tender pocket was right where she wanted me. Then I felt it—her first spasm. I cut her scream off with a thorough kiss while she came with such sweetness, I couldn’t help but follow.

  Convulsions ran the gambit within her body. The hot glove sheathing me fluttered, squeezing my cock like a million tiny fists. That’s all it took. Pleasure rushed my groin as I came hard and hot, flooding into her until she’d milked me dry.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Buried Treasure

  SHANNON

  ____________________________

  I wilted in Trace’s arms, breathless, giddy, and sated. “Oh, God. Now…we’ll need…to take another shower.”

  We’d showered together an hour ago when we’d awakened at the crack of dawn. I was sore, but I wanted him again, wanted that closeness. So he made love to me slowly, gently, up against the cool tile as hot water sprayed down on us. Somehow, we’d ended up back in bed again.

  “I think I broke…somethin’, that time,” he said, puffing.

  I giggled. “I won’t be able to walk…for a week.”

  “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  “Yup.” Chest still pumping, he pulled out and rolled off me. “What do you think…about us gettin’ away from all this? Just for a few days.”

  “Huh?”

  He rubbed my thigh. “This weekend. Maybe a hotel room in the city. Better still Cholly was telling me about this cabin resort up in the mountains.”

  “Perhaps after I clean this mess up.”

  “Mess?”

  I tried to catch my breath before answering. “The wedding with Darien for one. I’ve signed contracts…need to settle up with vendors. Notify friends, family.”

  “How long will that take?”

  I gave an exaggerated shrug. “Who knows? I’ve never done this before. It’s bound to be sticky.”

  “Yeah, but that shouldn’t take long.” He scrubbed a hand over his wet hair. “You break your contracts and pay the fees.”

  “That’s not the only consideration here.”

  One of his eyebrows arched high. “What else?”

  I rose on an elbow to stare down at him. “My aunt, uncle, and godfather are co-conspirators in a murder cover-up.”

  “If that’s not a reason to get away, I don’t know what is. I don’t know about you, but I could use a couple mental health days. For real. Trust me, all this bullshit will be here when we get back.”

  Foreboding gnawed deep. “But Mother’s killer is still out there. We’ve got to hire a lawyer. Contact the prosecutor’s office. I expect Uncle Sears to launch a vigorous defense. There’s a massive amount of new information. Mrs. Campbell, Uncle Jackson, what I remembered from Dr. Rosen….”

  He levered up, balancing on a forearm. His eyes were like searchlights. “What’s really going on here?”

  I felt cornered, flustered. “I’m estranged from my family. Uncle Sears is in the hospital—”

  “With a wicked case of indigestion. Least that’s what you said last night.”

  “Yes, but it’s what put him there that concerns me. It wasn’t a heart attack, but his stomach problems are stress-related. He’s scared because he knows I’m not backing down. Wait until he and Auntie find out about our visit to the sheriff’s.”

  “You didn’t say anything at the hospital?”

  “How could I? He and Auntie were at each other’s throats. More than usual. They had to sedate him, it got so bad. And I was upset about the fight with you. Numb about Darien.”

  “It was a lot to deal with,” he said in a hushed voice.

  “Then Mead shows up and starts pointing fingers at me. Darien arrived just as I was leaving. I ignored him.” I sighed. “When it rains it pours.”

  He stared at me with sober eyes. “None of that should stop this trip. Don’t you think we could use the time away to clear our heads? Maybe get a handle on how we should move forward?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “But what?” I lowered my eyes and he nodded to himself. “Oh, I get it. A romantic weekend with me would set tongues waggin’, wouldn’t it?”

  Seconds passed. Finally, the angry silence yanked the truth out of me. “All right! All right!” I scowled. “Look, it’s just the timing, okay? I’m about to cancel my wedding, so if I go running off with you now, I’ll be the one wearing the Scarlet Letter. Nobody will care about the details, they’ll just see Lilith Bradford’s daughter doing what comes natural. My God, Darien’s been carrying on for months behind my back. All the guilt I’ve suffered about us…and what was he doing? Screwing Kate Sims the whole time! Why should I be the one—”

  “To look bad?” He cocked a brow. “If you think that’s scary, wait’ll your bridge club pals hear about our screaming match last night. We likely woke the dead. Not to mention, I gave the whole neighborhood a peep show.”

  I looked away.

  “Forgot about that, didn’t you?” When I didn’t answer, he jiggled my hand. “It’s not that you’re ashamed of us. You just want to make sure you come off smelling like a rose.”

  “Why do you have to say it like that?”

  “Am I wrong?”

  “Yes,” I said with certainty. “I’m not ashamed. Just scared.”

  “Then write it in the sky. Slap it on a billboard. Tell them you don’t give a damn what they think. That’ll kill the fear for good.”

  I looked into his eyes, marveling at how beautiful he was, and how unworthy I felt. I’d hurt him again. And why? Because old habits died hard. Because it would take much more than words and good intentions to erase a lifetime of fear.

  Trace peeled the condom off. He threw his legs over the edge of the bed and snatched his underwear from the floor. After he’d tossed the condom in the trash, he yanked the boxer-briefs over his hips, and stalked toward the door, but swung back around mid-step.

  “I may be free and clear of disease, but there are other concerns.” When my face fell, he said, “Once is all it takes. I mean, you’re not on birth control, and, as I recall, I came inside you twice.” He quirked a brow, then flashed two fingers. “Last night when the condom broke, and again in the shower. We both know I didn’t pull out in time.”

  As if on cue, a damp reminder seeped between my thighs.

  His gaze dropped to my abdomen. “My little soldiers are in there right now, looking for one thing.” At my widened eyes, he said, “Oh, yeah, we may have created a new life. Now wouldn’t that be somethin’? Think of the headline they could run.” He thrust his hands in front of him. His long fingers curved to form a mock marquee: “Bradford Bears Butcher Boy’s Bastard.”

  I flinched. He’d hurled the words like knives. “You know I’d be honored to carry your child.”

  “Sure you would.” Trace rolled his eyes and snatched a clean pair of boxers from a drawer, then pulled a shirt and Levi’s from his closet. “I need to get to the flower shop before work.” He stalked down the hall and slammed the bathroom door. The house shook.

  I threw his robe on and scrambled after him, getting to the bathroom in a flash. I didn’t bother to knock, just burst through the door, only to freeze in my tracks.

  Head bent, he’d set one hand against the tiled wall. With the other hand, he gripped his penis while a steady stream of urine splashed into the toilet bowl. He didn’t even spare me a glance, just continued relieving himself.

  There was an intimacy in watching him do this, and strangely enough, it was then that I realized what I had to do to make things right again.

  When he was done, he gave his penis two shakes and tucked it in his boxers. After he’d flushed, he tried to move p
ast me, but I blocked his way to the shower. Tying my arms around his waist, I pressed my cheek to his chest. But he didn’t hug me back. His body was as stiff as a pole in my arms.

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “I know,” he said staring past me. “You can’t help it.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It’s nothin’ I haven’t said before.” He set me away from him, tugged his underwear down, and flipped the shower on. “I used to think you were one of the bravest people I know, and you still are, to a degree. But here’s the problem. You’ll stand up to bullies, but you’re terrified of standing up to yourself.”

  That went right over my head. “Huh?”

  “Remember my brain box? Well, you’ve got one too. The fancy name for it is repression. I learned that from Doc. You repress your emotions and the way I figure it, you operate on some kind of…weird autopilot. Anything that feels too real, you shove it down—or you run. That’s how you stayed in denial about us for so long.”

  I shook my head. “I’m glad you’ve got this all figured out.”

  “I do.” He looked at me for a long while. “I spent twelve years in an iron cage with wardens, guards, sharpshooters, and psychopaths. And what were you doin’? You’ll likely say, living your life out here in freedom, right?”

  Any answer I gave would probably be wrong, so I held my tongue.

  He stepped into the shower and grabbed a well-used bar of Ivory soap. “You’re not ashamed of me, you’re just afraid. And I get that. I really do. But the truth is, you’re in bondage, wasting away in a platinum cage you built. Trying to live up to your own impossible standards. You talk about not being ‘enough’ for other people, but this is about you.” Steam rose as he ducked beneath the hot spray and cracked an eye open. “I may be on parole, but you’re still the warden of your own penitentiary. So, between the two of us, who’s the real prisoner, darlin’?”

  He yanked the shower curtain closed.

  SHANNON

  ____________________________

  I slowed as a crossing guard led a line of middle school students across the street. Since I couldn’t stand the thought of going home, I’d picked up some toiletries at Walgreens and checked into a motel. I glanced at the dashboard clock—8:05 a.m.—fifty-eight minutes since I’d last seen Trace.