He was entirely naked, his cock swollen to what looked like the point of pain, and Samantha felt her mouth go dry at the sight.
“You come so prettily, little cat.” He stood still, seeming to understand that she wanted to look at him—at all of him. “I think you need to do so again.”
Though she was still trembling from the orgasm that had started before she’d even been fully awake, Samantha felt her hunger grow as she looked at the magnificence that was Elijah Masterson naked.
“You’re beautiful.” She cringed as soon as she said it, because she didn’t know any men who would appreciate being called beautiful.
Elijah, though—Elijah just smiled and stood still, letting her look.
The soft golden light made his gilded hair gleam. The hair, combined with those cobalt eyes and lush lips, lent him the image of an angel. But she knew by now that he was capable of all kinds of dark, devilish things.
His body backed up that claim. Surely an angel wouldn’t have a body that was made for sin. Her eyes raked over his strong, wide shoulders, the rock-solid chest, the arms that looked like he could lift her without even a hitch in his stride. One of those arms was ringed with a tattoo, dark ink etched in some sort of tribal design, and Samantha wanted nothing more in that instant than to run her tongue over the lines.
His stomach was flat, the slant of his hip bones the sexiest thing she had ever seen. His legs were solidly muscled and dusted with golden hair.
In the middle of it all, his cock rose up, long and thick and impossibly hard. Her eyes widened a bit even as she sucked in a breath of anticipation.
He was huge, something that hadn’t fully registered with her when they’d had sex before—it had all happened too fast.
“Holy hell.” Her stare flicked up to his face, where his lips had twisted into a hint of a smile, then back down to his cock.
Elijah laughed then, startling her with the great roar of sound. She looked up at him with wide eyes as he moved toward the bed, his intent clear on his face.
Instead of simply parting her thighs and entering her, the way she expected him to, Elijah bent and trailed a series of quick kisses up the inside of Samantha’s thigh. The press of his lips felt like the flutter of butterfly wings, and she shifted restlessly, wanting more.
“I can’t hold back any longer.” He slid his lips from her thigh to her belly, swiping across the skin with his tongue. “I have to be inside you. I have to have you.”
Samantha nodded her head with breathless assent as he trailed those frustratingly light kisses over the soft skin of her belly. She was wet and ready, and felt so empty that she ached.
Again, when she expected him to plunge inside her, he did the unexpected. Ranging his long body over hers, he settled his elbows on either side of her face and looked down at her.
“The papers you filled out at Pecado said you aren’t on any form of birth control. Is that the case?”
Samantha arched her hips, felt the coarse rub of his pubic hair against her damp lower lips, and whimpered.
“Yes. I mean no—no, I’m not on anything.” Oh, she couldn’t think when he was on top of her like this, when his hot skin was pressed to hers, when all he had to do was shift his hips to take her, and she wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.
“We’ll use a condom.” With one hand he stroked down the side of her face, and with the other he reached over to the small bedside table, returning with a condom in hand.
“Bite down.” He pressed the edge of it against her lips. Samantha took the edge of the wrapper in her teeth and he tugged against the force with his fingers. The foil wrapper ripped, and Samantha smelled latex as he removed the condom carefully.
“Next time you’ll put this on me,” Elijah promised, and Samantha flushed at the thought of such an intimate act. “I wish I could be inside you raw. I want to mark you as mine.”
The image was so primal, so erotic, that Samantha felt yet another surge of moisture wet her lower lips. She arched up against him, tugging at the cuffs that bound her to the bed.
“Please.” She licked her tongue over suddenly dry lips. “I need . . . more of you.”
Elijah settled back on his heels, and she watched through heavily lidded eyes as he rolled the sheath of latex over his erection. Watching his fingers on his own cock was the hottest thing she’d ever seen.
“Open for me,” he said as he lay back down on top of her. Strong fingers parted her thighs, and then his hardness was pressed against the entrance to her slick heat.
Samantha cried out when the head of his cock breached her entrance.
“You’re so fucking tight.” Elijah groaned as Samantha thrashed beneath him. “God, I can already feel your pussy milking me and I’m barely in.”
“More!” His dirty words had sent Samantha’s need into overdrive. She bucked her hips, widened her legs, invited him to seat himself, hard.
Instead he chuckled and slid in another leisurely fraction of an inch.
“You’re going to come for me one more time,” Elijah promised, stretching her just a little bit more. Beneath him Samantha panted, trembling with her desire.
Elijah groaned as he slid in farther, then farther still. Samantha felt a deep ache when he was nearly all the way in, her tight flesh protesting against the massive intrusion, and she cried out as her hips pulled back from the discomfort.
“Open for me, little cat.” Elijah nudged forward, then pulled back. Forward, then back. Finally her muscles relaxed, opening the rest of the way, and he slid home, sheathed to the root in her pussy.
“Oh my God,” Samantha whispered. She felt more than full. She felt like he had claimed her entirely, and she could do nothing but absorb the pleasure that he gave her.
“So. Fucking. Tight.” Elijah pulled back, then again thrust forward until his hip bones pressed into her stomach.
Samantha closed her eyes to keep them from rolling back in her head.
“So. Hot.” Each of his thrusts was so incredibly controlled that Samantha felt ready to scream. She wanted him to pound into her, to make the pace match the insanity that was swirling inside her.
He continued in that manner, that slow, thorough possession, until Samantha was a limp, quivering mass beneath him.
When he paused, she opened her eyes, seeing the world through the blurry haze of pleasure.
“Come for me, Samantha.” Reaching between their bodies, Elijah caught her clit between his thumb and forefinger. Her eyes flew open and she screamed as all of the banked pleasure rushed to that one square inch of flesh at his touch, pulling back then rising up in a tidal wave that slapped her in the face.
“Keep your eyes on me,” Elijah commanded as she shuddered. Finally, finally, he began to move faster, driving into her with strong, heated strokes, prolonging her orgasm until he finally seated himself one final time, sinking so deeply into her that she cried out, the force as he emptied himself inside her tinged with pleasure/pain.
As their tremors began to subside and Samantha tried desperately to catch her breath, Elijah reached above her head and undid the bracelets of her handcuffs. He caught one of her hands in each of his, his fingers rubbing over flesh that had gone slightly numb as he trapped her between his muscled thighs and rolled, settling on his back with her on top of him.
She knew she should say something, and yet her mind was blank, emptied of everything but bliss and comfort.
“Sleep now, little cat.” Elijah wrapped her in his arms as he tugged the covers over their bodies. His hands stroked over her disheveled braid, down the curve of her spine, and she did indeed feel deliciously feline as he petted her, soothing the nerves that were still firing.
“Sleep.” His voice was like a snifter of rum, she thought, warming and delicious.
It was her last thought before she succumbed to sleep, just as he had commanded.
• • •
“Wake up, sleepyhead.” Elijah’s voice cut through Samantha’s luxurious dream. She
cracked open her eyes, squinted as he flicked on the light in the plane’s bedroom.
“Wha—?” Samantha grunted, trying to close her eyes again. She yelped when chilly air hit her skin.
She rolled over, glaring up at Elijah, who grinned down at her, the bedcovers in his hands.
“We’ll be landing soon.” His gaze raked unashamedly over her naked frame. Though his stare very much reminded her that she was bare to his eyes, she found, strangely, that she didn’t want to cover up.
He had claimed her body, both with words and in the most primal way. It was strangely . . . freeing.
“I’ve laid out clothing for you.” Elijah gestured to the bureau that sat across the room. “You will wear these items and nothing else. You are welcome to shower, and will find everything you need in the bathroom.”
“How come you’re so perky?” Blearily Samantha rubbed her eyes. She was exhausted, despite having just had a nap.
Elijah’s genial expression faded, and he scowled down at her.
“Because I get a decent night’s sleep every night. I also eat properly. And exercise.” Again his stare raked over her, but this time there was no heat in his gaze. “While we are together, you will make sure you sleep and eat in a sensible fashion. Understood?”
“Will you make me exercise, too?” She kept her voice sweet, but mentally she was calculating how long it would take him to recover if she kneed him in the testicles.
Said testicles were now fully covered, sadly. She didn’t think she’d ever find another sight as amazing as Elijah in the buff.
Though the black leather pants and plain white T-shirt that he’d pulled on over that glorious skin . . . yum.
“Oh, you’ll exercise.” Elijah pinned her with a sexy stare and then, without warning, fisted his hands in her hair and pulled her to him for a kiss. This wasn’t any soft brush of the lips, but a scorching melding that branded her skin and left her panting.
“But the exercise will be of the carnal variety.” Elijah’s lips curled up in a cocky grin as he released her. Samantha swallowed hard, her fingers straying to lips that now felt swollen.
“I’m going to fix you something to eat. You will be showered, dressed, and in the sitting room to eat what I have made you in twenty minutes.” Catching Samantha’s wrists in one hand, he tugged her to her feet, then leaned in close to whisper in her ear. “Don’t be late. I’m not sure Captain Mattias could handle another punishment.”
And then he was gone, leaving Samantha staring after him, openmouthed.
I’m not sure Captain Mattias could handle another punishment.
“I’m not sure I could, either,” Samantha said to herself, then hurried into the bathroom, her skin flushing at the memory.
The feel of another man’s hands on her body had been deliciously taboo. She’d been scared at first that it had been some kind of test—that Elijah wanted her to hold her desire in check for anyone but himself.
But he’d given her permission to enjoy it. And with those words, it was as if it had been his hands on her body, stroking her skin, suckling her nipples.
Though she’d already come twice that afternoon, Samantha felt another surge of heat to the tender space between her legs.
“Good grief.” Hastily she ran a brush through the hair that had tangled as she slept. She braided it tightly, then splashed cold water on her face, hoping it would snap her out of the lust-filled haze in which she was currently floating.
It didn’t really help, but it did make her feel a bit more awake.
Next were the clothes that Elijah had laid out for her.
“Oh, hell no.” Samantha cringed as she picked up the first item. She was pretty sure it was called a bustier, a confection of crisscrossing straps and lace.
It was also almost the exact same shade of green as the sculpture that had brought her into Elijah’s life. Considering how observant he was, she knew that that wasn’t an accident.
“That’s kind of sweet,” she murmured under her breath as she tried to figure out how to get into the contraption.
Intensive searching revealed a zipper hidden down the side. She sighed with relief, then slid into the garment.
Samantha dared a glance in the mirror once she had added the short, tight skirt in a matching shade of green and the black boots that covered her all the way up to midthigh.
She was startled by what she saw. She’d never been the kind of woman to pay much attention to how she looked—in fact, for many years she’d done her very best to downplay any of her physical assets.
But right in that moment, in the clothing that Elijah had chosen for her, she felt attractive. Sexy, even.
In the past she had avoided dressing to look that way, afraid of feeling as though she had deserved what had happened to her.
But she hadn’t chosen to dress this way—she had donned these clothes to please Elijah.
It was satisfying in a way that she had never before considered.
Look out, Elijah. It was with a decided sway to her hips that she left the bedroom and entered the sitting room. The swagger disappeared the moment she saw the golden-haired man, the moment those blue eyes fixed on her.
Devoured her.
“You look lovely,” he said warmly. She was startled when he rose from his seat and held his hands out for her. His gaze made her acutely aware that he’d now seen every last bit of her . . . and that she wasn’t wearing any underwear.
“Thank you.” She took his hands, trying not to squirm as he looked her up and down.
“You didn’t shower.” His voice was inquisitive, not angry, but Samantha still found herself squirming.
“Uh, no. I didn’t.” Hoping to change the subject, she looked over his shoulder to the coffee table, where he had set a plate with two lopsided sandwiches and a bottle of water. “You made me a sandwich. Thank you.”
“Samantha.” Clasping her chin in his fingers, Elijah pulled until she had no choice but to look right at him. She sighed internally, just beginning to understand that this man had an attention span like nothing she’d ever encountered before.
“Why didn’t you shower, Samantha?” She cringed inwardly as she tried to find a way to escape the question. Elijah waited, still as a statue, her chin clasped in his fingers.
Finally she huffed out an impatient sigh.
“I didn’t . . . I didn’t want to wash you off of me.” She winced as the words hit her own ears. Oh, that sounds so incredibly needy and lame.
“You didn’t want to wash me off of you?” Elijah repeated her words, disbelief coloring his voice.
She nodded, casting her stare to the floor.
Before she could even inhale her next breath, he had gathered her up in his arms and she found herself with her legs around his waist. His hands were cupped beneath her ass, pressing her naked, tender pussy into the front of his leather pants as he consumed her in another of those hot, hard kisses that stole her breath away.
When he pulled back, she stared at him in confusion.
“What was that for?” she asked, hearing the tremble in her own voice.
“You please me.” Elijah smiled down at her, but she saw something more in the depths of his eyes—something he didn’t seem willing to share with her.
Though curiosity clawed at her, she didn’t press. She had secrets of her own.
Then Mattias’s voice sounded over the intercom, interrupting the intimacy of the moment. “Mr. Masterson, Miss Collins, we’re beginning our descent into Las Vegas. If you would please have a seat and fasten your seat belts, it would be greatly appreciated.”
The man’s voice was a reminder to Samantha of how his mouth had felt on her breasts.
Of the look on Elijah’s face as he watched.
“What happens now?” Samantha turned to Elijah as they sat on the couch. As before, he buckled her in himself, as if he needed to make sure that she was safe.
Her short skirt rode up as she curled her legs beneath her, and Elijah’s eyes i
mmediately found the pale skin that was revealed.
He turned to her and grinned, then ran a finger over the newly naked skin with a touch so light yet so sensual that she shuddered.
“Now you’re going to eat your sandwich. Then we’re going to In Vino Veritas.”
CHAPTER NINE
The Vegas club was nothing like Samantha had expected. Rather than the neon lights and pulsing music she’d seen outside Pecado, In Vino Veritas looked more like a large, sedate house. The only clue that it was anything more than a personal residence was the long, curving drive in front of it and the dreadlocked man who took keys and greeted those arriving.
Elijah had told Samantha a bit about the club once they were cozily ensconced in the limo that had driven all the way onto the tarmac to collect them at the airport. But she was having trouble getting her mind around the fact that he owned a chain of resorts in Mexico and another club here.
She said so, and Elijah cast her a sidelong glance.
“I own a lot of things, Samantha.” His thumb stroked over the sensitive skin behind her knee, and she had to struggle to stay focused.
“You own a lot of things, or you own a lot of places?” She suspected it was a little of both. The man owned his own luxurious private jet after all.
“Well . . . both.” Elijah turned fully then, catching one of Samantha’s hands in his own. “What is it about wealth that makes you so twitchy?”
Samantha felt her body stiffen. She shouldn’t have been surprised that he’d noticed, because the man had eyes in the back of his head, but it still made her nervous.
Elijah wasn’t the type to appreciate secrets; she knew that about him already. He wouldn’t be impressed by the fact that she’d embarked on this kind of relationship with him while keeping part of her past hidden inside.
She’d just have to make sure he never knew.
“Oh, I’m just not used to it, that’s all.” Though it wasn’t the entire truth, Samantha wasn’t lying. Her mother had had plenty of wealthy lovers, but those lovers had never felt the need to take care of her children. In fact, most of them had seemed to prefer pretending that Gemma Collins didn’t have two young daughters who needed clothing, food, and, more than anything, their mother’s attention.
Breathe Page 12