by BETH KERY
The burn scorched her almost as greatly as Alex’s stare did.
It became too much to bear. He was practically a stranger to her, after all. She turned her head away and closed her eyes. Her hips shifted beneath him, moving in a counter rhythm to his thrusts.
“Look at me, Angeline,” he demanded after a moment, never ceasing his shallow, slow thrusts.
She clutched her eyes shut. It was bad enough she was doing this wild, impulsive thing—fucking her boyfriend’s son in the secret darkness of night. Why did it have to make her feel so unbearably raw, as well, like his gaze could cut down to her very soul?
He pushed into her to the hilt and drew tiny circles with his hips, stimulating her clit. She hissed in pleasure, and then moaned when he stopped.
“I said look at me, Angeline.”
She felt an overpowering urge to follow his command. That realization made her more determined not to do it. She clamped her eyelids and tightened her vaginal muscles, squeezing him…taunting him into riding her hard once again, begging him to steer her over the edge into blissful forgetfulness.
He groaned roughly. Her eyes flew open when he withdrew. He had her flipped over onto her belly before any cohesive thought could enter her brain.
“What the—?”
She stopped mid-sentence when he grabbed her hips, lifting them off the sleeping bag. He placed first one pillow beneath them, and then took hold of the one her head had been resting on previously and shoved that beneath her hips as well. A cry of surprise popped out of her throat when he landed a spank on her right buttock. It didn’t hurt, necessarily, but it stung. She tried to sit up and roll away, but he leaned down and placed his forearm across her lower back, keeping her in place. He smacked her bottom as she squirmed beneath him, surprised and outraged by his treatment.
“Stop it, you jerk!” she squalled when he cracked her ass again—this time on the lower curve of her bottom. Her flesh tingled and burned, and the sensation had somehow transferred to her pussy as well. Everything down there felt hot and prickly with arousal.
She went still when the thought struck her full force. She was getting turned on by being spanked.
“That’s right, best to just take it,” Alex muttered gruffly, mistaking her sudden stillness for acquiescence and not amazement. And maybe it was, Angeline thought dazedly, as Alex’s big palm struck her ass again and wetness surged from her pussy at the sound of flesh cracking against flesh and the resulting sting of enlivened nerves.
“Are you going to stay still?” Alex asked after he’d spanked her once more.
Angeline just nodded, still irritated by his heavy-handedness, but curious about her body’s powerful response to his actions.
“Put your forehead down on the sleeping bag, then,” he instructed. It took her a moment to really process what he’d said, she was so focused on the sensation of him rubbing his big hand over her ass, soothing the prickling nerves. Because he’d placed the pillows under her hips, her bottom stuck up in the air. Her position made her feel vulnerable and incredibly aroused at once.
She found herself wondering what she felt like beneath his palm. Hot? Smooth? He certainly seemed to enjoy stroking her while he waited. Excitement swelled in her breast as she slowly placed her forehead on the sleeping bag, her heartbeat pounding in her ears.
“Is this because I refused to open my eyes?” she asked.
“Yes,” he replied as he continued to rub her bottom. She yelped in surprise when he abruptly drew back his hand and gave her a firm spank. “But mostly I’m just doing it because I want to.” He spanked her again, and this time she managed to keep still. “What’s wrong? Don’t you like being spanked?”
“I don’t know. I never have been before. You make it sound like it’s a normal part of sex.”
He swatted her again, firing her nerves. She began to understand his rhythm. First he’d spank her, and then he’d linger and shape her flesh to his palm, rubbing the skin as if to soothe the burn he’d just created. When he withdrew, she found herself holding her breath in anticipation, waiting for the next crack of his palm. Her thighs were spread slightly. Angeline found herself wanting to press on the pillows to alleviate the sharp arousal that plagued her clit.
“With an ass like yours, it ought to be,” he muttered as he stroked a tingling buttock. She heard the gruff quality to his deep voice and tried to twist her head around to see him. Somehow it seemed imperative to see his face at that moment, to know that he really was as undone by this impulsive, crazy experience as her.
He paused in the action of rubbing her bottom in such a lascivious manner and glanced up at her. Something in his rigid expression reassured her, despite what he did next. She’d barely taken in the sight of his cock flicking upward in arousal before he put his hand at the back of her head. He gently, but firmly, pushed her forehead back on the sleeping bag. The dominant gesture sent a pang of lust through her pussy. She pushed down against the pillows, trying desperately to alleviate the growing friction that grew in her flesh.
He lifted her hips like he had before, his strength stunning her even amidst her annoyance at being deprived of her source of stimulation. She would have thought she weighed no more than a child’s doll. It was a singular feeling for a woman who had always worried about her size in comparison to a man. She felt feminine being held in Alex’s big hands, and a strange, erotic combination of both vulnerability and power.
“Put your hands out in front of you and keep them there.”
For some unknown reason, the rough quality to his voice didn’t alarm her in the slightest. Maybe because, on some deep level, she sensed his harshness came from arousal at the breaking point, not from any source of cruelty. Her breathing came more erratically as she followed his instructions. She was almost entirely blinded by her position and the curtain of her hair falling around her. She lay there, prone and helpless. In her mind’s eye, she imagined how glorious he must look, kneeling there behind her, his muscles flexed hard as he held her ass in his hands.
The anticipation building inside her felt almost unbearable.
He shifted his hands on her captive hips. She cried out in excitement when she felt the hard head of his cock pressing to her slit. He entered her with gentle thrusts, his possession made challenging since her legs weren’t spread wide. Her pussy strained and stretched to accept him, but he was insistent. Soon he stroked her with three or four inches of his length…but no more. The way he held her hips captive made it impossible for her to move him further into her body.
She groaned in frustration. Her clit sizzled with excitement. Her vagina clamped his penis, so hungry to have him take full possession.
“Do you want to come?” he rumbled behind her, still stroking her to electrical effect.
“That’d be the idea, yeah.”
His low laughter made a shiver ripple up her spine.
He set her hips back down on the pillows, and then reached beneath her, doubling one of the cushions. Her bottom rose even further in the air. They both groaned as he thrust into her, deeper this time. But then he lifted his hips until he speared her with only the tip of his cock. He supported his upper body on one hand and swatted her ass.
“Oooh,” she cried out helplessly when he reached beneath her and massaged her clit. She was so wet, his thick fingers slid over her with a friction-free glide, making her burn.
She writhed in agonized pleasure, but he withdrew and spanked her several times. She went still, gasping like she’d just run a sprint.
“I can’t wait to tie you down,” he said gruffly. “You’re always a trial, but when you wiggle that ass around, you’re really asking for it.”
He swatted her again, making the air ring with the smack of skin against skin. She felt his cock lurch inside her pussy. She moaned in desperate frustration and her vagina tightened around him…tempting him…begging him without words. If she wasn’t entirely overcome, she would have wondered at her raw lust.
But as thi
ngs stood, she existed for only one thing at that moment—to have Alex take her completely.
She wiggled her bottom in a come and get me gesture, causing his embedded cock to wag in the air.
He popped her bottom again with his palm and dropped his other hand to the floor next to her head.
“Oh, you’re gonna get it now, beautiful.”
Her heart leapt with a wild anticipation. He thrust hard, slapping her ass with his pelvis. Angeline opened her lips and keened as he began to fuck her with long, powerful strokes.
“God, you’re on fire,” she heard him rasp, making her inner flames leap even higher. He plunged into her to the balls and paused while he pushed her long hair aside. His hand spread over her skull, urging her to turn her head so he could see her in profile. His low, feral growl caused shivers of excitement to race down her spine. He moved his hands, placing them over hers, fixing her firmly to the floor. Despite the volatility of the movement, his restraint on her was gentle.
She closed her eyes and wailed when he moved, plunging into her fast and furiously. Maybe the combined emotional and physical pressure was too intense, because she lost herself in those crazed, carnal moments of their frantic mating. The friction he built in her was unbearable. She bobbed her ass in a counter rhythm to his driving cock, feeling herself cresting and striving for the delicious jolt of orgasm with blind need. He moved his hands suddenly, placing them next to her shoulders. He reared up over her, coming up on his toes.
Angeline opened her mouth and screamed in pleasure while he fucked her with savage abandon.
She felt his cock jerk inside her. He roared in climax. The sound of his rough, deep cry and his spasming penis deep inside her triggered her own release. She cried out sharply as pleasure blasted through her.
He continued to fuck her while they both came. Shivers of bliss still rippled through her flesh after he’d slowed. He lowered his hands and came down over her, his warm breath striking her cheek in uneven bursts.
“You’re not my father’s. You’re mine, Angeline.”
She lay there gasping, turned inside out…undone by the force of nature called Alex Carradine.
Chapter Seven
He kissed her ear and neck in the minutes that followed. His cock softened in her warm clasp. Alex knew he had to withdraw or risk spilling some of the semen gathered in the condom, but he hated the idea of moving. She tilted her face toward him, nuzzling his lips with her jaw.
“I need to use the bathroom,” she whispered.
He shifted his hips, cursing softly under his breath at the sensation of leaving the warm, soft haven of Angeline’s body. He rolled off her with equal reluctance.
It seemed that the separation heralded the cold return of doubt.
“Put on my shirt,” he said as he watched her stand, struck anew by her feminine beauty. Something about the lush curve of her hips and buttocks contrasting with her narrow waist made him want to possess her all over again.
Her averted face as she slipped his shirt over her shoulders made him wonder if his previous possession was a one-time event.
When she returned several minutes later, he couldn’t read her expression in the shadowed room. She hesitated several feet away from where he lay when she saw he’d zipped their two sleeping bags together into one large bag. He saw her elegant throat convulse as she swallowed.
He perfectly understood her wariness, but he said nothing, curious as to what she would say or do. Fucking each other like animals in the heat of the moment was one thing.
Sleeping in each other’s arms was another.
She nodded at the sleeping bags. “Alex…do you really think it’s wise to—?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” At the sight of the anxiety on her face, he sighed and relented. “I’m not going to attack you again, Angeline. Not now, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
She stepped toward him hastily. “It’s not that. I don’t think you attacked me, I just—” Her voice broke. She inhaled and stared at the fire. He’d added a log and some kindling while she was in the bathroom and the flames leapt high.
“I don’t know what to think,” she finished quietly.
He tossed back the corner of the sleeping bag and nodded pointedly at the opening. “I’m not so sure what to think, either. Come on. We’ll sleep on it and get around to worrying about it come morning.”
For a taut moment she stood poised, reminding him of a deer in the second before it leapt into flight. But then she was kneeling on the carpet and sliding her feet down next to his. He pressed her back against the front of him. A shiver coursed through her when he wrapped her in his arms, settling her head on his chest. She’d become chilled on her trip to the bathroom. He rubbed her shoulder and upper arm slowly as he stared into the flames and her scent filled his nose. He sensed that her eyes were open as well, watching the fire…her mind undoubtedly churning with growing anxiety.
She’d fucked her boyfriend’s son in the dead of night and, given all the available data, she’d loved it.
Alex knew he had. Making love to Angeline was the easy part.
Now he was faced with the daunting task of convincing this amazing woman she was involved with the wrong Carradine.
Angeline drowsily inhaled the smell of coffee and burning cedar logs. In the distance, she heard the low howl of a winter wind, but the ominous sound only seemed to increase her languor.
That bitter wind couldn’t touch her. Not here.
She shifted in her cocoon, hesitant to open her eyes, wanting nothing more than to enjoy this sleepy, delicious warmth. A hazy memory told her she’d been very cold recently, making her exponentially appreciate the warmth.
She’d also been very, very hot—
Her eyelids popped open. She lay unmoving, staring onto patio doors that led onto a gray and white world. Snow fell heavily outside the doors, nearly shutting out the light of day.
She was in Alex Carradine’s house. She’d had sex with Mitchell’s son last night.
And it had been spectacular.
Panic trickled into her awareness. The memories of their heated, nighttime encounter played across her mind in graphic detail. Much to her horror, her pussy clenched in renewed desire.
Please God—say it didn’t really happen. Maybe it was just the mother of all wet dreams?
She threw back the sleeping bag and sat up. She was alone, but Alex’s lingering spicy scent informed her that her panic wasn’t created from a super-vivid dream. No…she really had fucked Alex as if her life depended on it last night. She really had become a creature she hardly recognized as herself, really had become transformed by raw lust.
The memory of their flame-gilded sexual encounter strangely seemed both hyper-realistic and dream-like at once. She recalled every touch, every uttered word, every nuance of ecstasy on Alex’s bold, handsome face as he drove into her body, and yet—it was as if it had happened to someone else, and she—Angeline—had watched in fascinated amazement.
She’d never known herself to be consumed by pure desire, so she couldn’t quite recognize this new facet of her personality. She recalled how she’d stared at her reflection in Alex’s bathroom mirror last night, both curious and horrified by the stranger she saw looking back at her.
What the hell was she going to tell Mitchell?
Hadn’t Alex implied that Mitchell had invited her up to his ski resort, knowing full well it would irritate Alex?
What if Alex had been intent on making love to her in order to dig at his father in return? What if they considered her nothing more than a pawn to be used in their family battle?
Panic twisted in her belly.
A thumping noise just outside the patio doors made her jump in alarm. Two large, dark forms emerged from the curtain of swirling snow. Angeline scurried out of the sleeping bags, alarmed at the idea of Alex seeing her wearing only his flannel shirt—which was stupid, of course, since he’d seen her in far less last night.
She glanced arou
nd the floor, desperately searching for her discarded clothing. By the time she located the garments draped over the back of the couch—Alex must have laid them there this morning—Angeline realized Alex wasn’t going to enter the patio doors, however. He must have just passed outside the doors on the way to wherever else he was going.
What could he be thinking, wandering around out there in a blizzard? Angeline thought as she hauled on her panties and jeans.
She hesitated before she unbuttoned the flannel shirt. Alex’s scent clung to the material. She experienced a nearly overwhelming desire to bury her face in the lapel.
From the direction of the garage, she heard a door bang open and noises like something being dragged across the concrete floor. Was he scraping the snow and ice off his boots? She frantically finished unbuttoning the shirt and hurried into her bra and sweater. She was making her way toward the kitchen, her heart seemingly lodged somewhere near her tonsils, when the back door opened, and Alex entered.
Angeline paused next to the lunch counter, her arms wrapped around herself in a defensive posture. He’d removed his coat, hat and boots already and wore a dark blue flannel shirt and jeans. She recognized her black duffel bag hanging on his shoulder. He set it down and ran his fingers through his short, dark hair, still unaware of her observance.
“Good morning,” Angeline croaked through a dry throat when he glanced up and saw her standing there. His gaze dropped slowly over her body. His dark brows knitted together as if in puzzlement—or irritation, she couldn’t tell which.
“Good morning,” he said eventually as he came farther into the kitchen. “Did you just get up?”
Angeline’s cheeks heated when she met his direct, blue-eyed gaze. Why did his stare always make her feel so naked? She nodded.
“Do you want a cup of coffee?” he asked.
Again, she nodded, temporarily unable to speak.
He opened up a cupboard and withdrew two mugs. “I got your stuff from your SUV.”