by Lora Leigh
Crowe laughed, a hard, bitter sound that had her flinching. “Hell, Amelia. Did you really care that much for him?”
“I hated him.” The sharp exclamation surprised him. “He was a bastard who deserved to be castrated and imprisoned—”
“He was a disease that needed to be eradicated. Trust me, Amelia, all he deserved was a bullet to put everyone he knew out of the misery he caused them.” Amelia flinched at the rage that seemed to radiate from Crowe.
She’d once thought she knew this man far better than anyone in her life, but she’d never imagined he would condone murder.
Even if he felt it was deserved.
Facing him, her chin lifted, her hands planting on her hips. “He deserved to be punished, not put out of his misery. Killing a man like Stoner Wright is a waste of a damned good sin better used for something a hell of a lot more fun.”
And of course, she should have watched what she said around this man.
“Such as?” he growled, moving closer to her again, his head bending to give her the full force of his imperious gaze.
Her eyes widened then narrowed as she all but rose to her tiptoes in confrontation. “I can think of far more interesting sins for you to commit, Crowe,” she snapped back at him. “And would have thought you could as well.” Her gaze flickered over his face, the savage planes and sharp angles, the brooding, heavy-lashed eyes, and his merciless gaze. “Or have you lost the imagination you once had?”
Then, his lashes swept to half-mast, his expression suddenly turned so blatantly sensual it sent a wave of pure, fiery lust sweeping through her body.
“If it’s sinning with you, then I do indeed have a hell of an imagination.”
Completely male and erotic, the look on his face, the sound of his voice, and the sudden shocking contact as he pulled her against his very aroused body had a surprised cry falling from her lips.
Her palms flattened against his chest, but whether it was to push him away or to absorb the heat of his body, even she couldn’t say for sure.
What she did know for sure was that the air around them heated, growing heavy and saturated with a sexual hunger she hadn’t shared with anyone but Crowe in her life. That same intensity burned in his gaze as his eyes glittered with hunger and male dominance.
Her body, betrayer that it was, responded immediately.
Her breasts, already swollen, her nipples already tight with the need for his touch increased their responsiveness. Between her thighs the folds of her pussy swelled, her clit throbbing, pulsing, greedy for the slightest touch as the need to climax began to burn in her womb.
She couldn’t handle this.
She knew the danger of it, the risks that came with allowing him to touch her, allowing herself to need his touch.
“What are you doing?” she whispered, hearing the aching need in her voice. “You know this isn’t wise.”
“When was I ever wise where you’re concerned?” One hand moved from her back to clasp her waist before pushing beneath the soft cashmere shell she wore with a black skirt.
Inhaling sharply at the feel of his callused fingertips and palm against her sensitive flesh, Amelia found herself helpless against the wave of erotic pleasure flooding her senses.
“We can’t do this.” A hard gasp broke the thought as he cupped the curve of her breast, tested the rounded firmness, then investigated her achingly hard nipple.
Pleasure raced from the hard peak to the throbbing bud of her clit, then clenched the delicate tissue of her vagina.
“Why can’t we do this, elf?” he asked, his voice a sensually dark croon. “Trust me, I bet both our parts are in fine working order.” His strong teeth nipped gently at the full curve of her lower lip. “Just think, we don’t have to hurry now. You won’t have to smother those wild little moans and I won’t have to restrain this completely primitive need I have to leave my mark on your skin where everyone will see it, and know by God that you’re claimed, Amelia.” Possessive hunger exploded from him with a force she couldn’t have prepared herself for.
His lips covered hers, parted them, and turned a meeting of flesh into a stamp of dominance that Amelia found herself helpless against. Found herself luxuriating in her helplessness, in the complete submission of her senses to this one man.
Something primitive and so primally female it seemed to burn in the very depths of her senses surged to life as he held her to him and stoked that flame to a full, hungry blaze.
Each dart of his tongue against hers, each stroke of his thumb over the responsive tip of her nipple, each new press of his erection into her lower stomach fanned the flame higher, brighter.
Her hands caressed his shoulders, the need to touch his flesh growing—but it hadn’t yet overcome the need to hold on to his kiss. Instead she fisted her fingers in his hair, heard his muttered groan as she tried to pull his lips tighter to her, to feel that same lash of pleasure-pain she had felt that summer so long ago.
She had ached for this.
She had dreamed of it.
Nothing—oh God, nothing had ever been this good, felt this wild and incredible.
“Ah God, Amelia.” His lips left hers, his kisses moving over her jaw, his tongue taking brief tastes, his teeth nipping sensually as the fiery caresses moved to her neck.
Ultrasensitive, completely responsive, the flesh beneath her ear was so tender, so susceptible to the stroke of his lips, his tongue, that the nerve endings seemed directly connected to each sexual center of her body.
His lips covered that bit of flesh just beneath the lobe, tugged it into the heat of his mouth, and began drawing on it with slow, sensual hunger. It sent a rush of sensation stabbing at her nipples before streaking heatedly to her womb, where the sharp clench and burn had a lash of fiery heat striking repeatedly at her clitoris.
Oh God, she was going to come.
“Crowe.” The strangled cry was either pleasure or protest—even she wasn’t certain which.
Another brilliant pulse of sensation surged through her system, immersing her in such a storm of incredible, sensual hunger that she felt lost.
Pulling back, Crowe gripped the hem of her cashmere shell and dragged it over her lace-covered breasts. His head lowered, his lips burying between the curves, his tongue licking lazily, sensually at the sensitive flesh there.
Amelia’s breath caught. His lips were so close to her nipples.
The small latch at the front of her bra released, allowing him to push the delicate lace cups from her breasts, baring her curves to his gaze.
Amelia stilled as his head lifted. Forcing her eyes to open partway, she stared up at him.
“How fucking pretty,” Crowe breathed out roughly, one hand cupping the swollen weight of a breast as he rubbed over the tight, hard peak with his thumb. “Such a pretty pink, like the sweetest candy, and so tight and hard.”
The dark croon sent a rush of sensation to tighten spasmodically in her womb.
“I dream about sucking those pretty nipples.” His head lowered as he brushed his lips against the violently sensitive little tips.
“Oh God—” A hard, brutal flex of pleasure centered in her womb, pulsing outward and nearly hurtling her over that edge of sensation into release.
Lifting his head, he stared down at her, his brown eyes piercing and hungry.
“How long has it been, fairy-girl, since this hot little body has come from the pleasure it was given?” he whispered, though the demand in his voice was unmistakable.
Heat flooded her face at the explicit question.
“Don’t—” Before she could voice more of the protest a strong, male finger lay against her lips.
“Uh-uh,” he said firmly. “Answer me, Amelia. Tell me how long it’s been.”
She couldn’t. Oh God, she couldn’t tell him. The shame of it was unbearable. Her fingers fell from his hair to his neck.
“I was married,” she reminded him desperately.
Pure fire erupted in his eyes. Savage, inte
nse, the fury that blazed in the rich amber of that predatory gaze caused her eyes to widen. “Amelia, don’t bother lying to me by saying that little bastard made you orgasm,” he rasped, his tone grating. “Because I promise you won’t like the consequences.” His head lowered, his lips brushing over a tight peak again.
Immediately the pleasure returned in fiery spikes of sensation.
“Who was the last man to bring this pretty”—his tongue swiped over the hard tip as she cried out desperately—“pretty little body to its release?”
“Why does it mat—” A cry tore from her throat, her body tightening, sensation striking in a furious burst of heat in her core as he covered her nipple with his lips, sucking it into the heat of his mouth with a blazing, fierce hunger that had him drawing on it with tight, deep pulls of his mouth.
A second later the fiery heat was gone just as quickly, his head turning as his cheek rested against the painful ache of her nipple.
“Tell me,” he demanded again, his voice harsh. “Tell me, Amelia. Or I stop now.”
Stop? Oh God, she couldn’t bear it if he stopped.
“You!” she cried out desperately, twisting against him as she tried to tempt him to pull the throbbing, swollen flesh back into his mouth.
His head lifted, his gaze heavy-lidded, possessive.
“You,” she whispered again. “I’ve only come for you.”
CHAPTER 4
It was as though Amelia had been lost, wandering aimlessly in a cold, deserted loneliness until Crowe touched her.
Until his lips possessed her, his dominance warmed her.
Before, she had been helpless in a world of manipulations and a desperate battle to ensure Wayne never destroyed the man who owned her heart, or the secrets it sometimes seemed she had sold her soul to protect.
Now she could be free.
There was the smallest chance Wayne was gone forever.
But even if he wasn’t, the world now knew him for the monster he was, and the power he had controlled was snatched from his grasp.
And she was in Crowe’s arms again.
“Don’t stop,” she begged brokenly, certain she couldn’t bear taking a breath without the pleasure rippling through her.
His head lifted. “So long,” he whispered. She felt him release the little clip of her skirt, then slowly ease the zipper over her hip.
The silk slid down her legs to pool about the four-inch heels of her black pumps.
“Sweet merciful heaven,” he breathed, lifting her arms to remove the cashmere shell. When she lowered them again he brushed the straps of her bra over her shoulders; they slid down her arms and to the floor next to her skirt.
Left clad in silk thigh-highs—the lacy band circling her leg just below her thigh—and black silk-and-lace French-cut panties, Amelia felt her nakedness as she never had before.
Her breasts felt heavy, her nipples aching and hot. Her skin was so sensitive, the brush of the air against it was nearly physical.
“Hold on to me,” he demanded, gripping her hips as she moved her hands immediately to his shoulders to balance herself.
In the next second he was settling her rear on the kitchen island, parting her legs and moving quickly between them.
“This is crazy.”
She moaned, her head tipping back on her shoulders as he cupped the swollen curves of her breasts.
She was helpless. The moment he sucked her nipple into the moist heat of his mouth, the world around her disappeared.
Vivid, pulsing heat struck at her pussy as his tongue lashed at the sensitive peak. Sensation poured through her—brilliantly hot, spilling slick, heavy moisture as her body prepared itself for his possession. Her stomach clenched, stealing her breath before the sensations struck at her clit, swelling it tighter, pushing her closer.
If he would just suck the tender flesh tighter and amplify the rising sensations already burning through her.
“So good,” she panted, her voice rough, rasping.
She didn’t even recognize the sound of it.
All she recognized was the rising demand for more.
More of his touch, more of his kisses and the wild hunger burning between them.
As she lifted closer to him, his lips released the pleasure-tortured tip long enough to order, “Look at me, fairy-girl.”
Her lashes lifted drowsily, her gaze falling to his then to where his tongue peeked out to rub against the velvety point as one hand stroked down her belly, his fingers finding the wet silk between her thighs.
“Hell,” he groaned. “This is why you were at the spa last week?”
This was the smooth, curl-free folds between her thighs.
Had she somehow known this night would come?
“Ah hell, Amelia!”
Awe? Regret? What emotion filled his voice as his fingers slipped beneath the leg band of her panties to find the bare folds of her sex.
And the slick layer of her juices covering them.
Should she be ashamed that even as he touched her, more of the slick, heated dampness spilled from her?
Should she be embarrassed as his fingers stroked, caressed, and left her gasping for air?
“Oh baby, you’re so hot and wet,” he muttered against her nipple.
His touch glanced over her clit. The violent wave of pleasure that suddenly struck at her senses pushed her so close to her release that her breath caught. She was certain the little wave of ecstasy would bury her beneath the explosive sensations her body was so desperate for as he found her other nipple.
A second later the firmness of his touch eased, pulling her back from that edge—only to push her higher once again.
“Crowe, please,” she cried out desperately, widening her legs farther, hips arching forward to let his fingers find the clenched, snug entrance of her sex.
Releasing her nipple again he lifted his head, his gaze meeting hers as the tip of his finger began easing inside.
“Sweet tight little pussy,” he crooned. “As tight as you were the first time I had you.”
The first time she had been a virgin.
This time she knew what was coming.
His fingers eased deeper inside her.
“Crowe. Yes, God, please…”
The violent shaft of sensation rocked her body with fiery bursts of such exquisite pleasure she was certain release was only a second away.
Pulling back, still using a single finger, he penetrated to the farthest depths of her vagina then rubbed.
Whimpering brokenly, her nails digging into the shirt covering his shoulders, she fought to fall from the edge of complete rapture he had her poised on.
“Please. Crowe, please,” she cried out, hips writhing, ecstasy threatening to overtake her.
“Shh,” he murmured, his gaze dark and filled with lust. “I won’t leave you hurting, baby. I promise.”
But she was hurting now.
She knew she would hurt later.
Her womb clenched again, a hard spasm of pure sensual intensity that once again stole her breath.
“Easy, baby,” he breathed as he pulled back the deep thrust of his finger.
“Easy?” she gasped, disbelief filling her for a brief second. “Are you crazy, Crowe? You’re killing me.”
In the next second her eyes opened wide, lips parting on a breathless, soundless scream as two broad fingers pushed inside her.
They stretched her, opened her.
Her inner flesh rippled, flexing around the intruders, her juices spilling to slicken and heat the delicate muscles as Crowe stroked and rubbed inside her with each firm thrust.
“Do you like that, fairy-girl?” he ground out, his voice a hard, hungry rasp as he worked his fingers inside her again, twisting, stroking sensitive tissue, and violently awakening nerve endings.
Amelia leaned back slowly, desperate for each sensation, locked in a battle to reach that farthest edge of sensation where complete rapture waited.
“Oh God, yes.” Strangled
, shocked, breathless: The sound of her own voice barely penetrated the haze of pleasure surrounding her, sinking inside her.
“Lie back for me, Amelia.”
Leaning over her, he eased her to her back before dropping a kiss on her lips and straightening once again.
With one hand he guided her feet, first one then other, until they rested against the edge of the island, her knees bent, thighs splayed.
Forcing her lashes to lift, she watched him, his golden gaze locked on her pussy as his fingers slid back, releasing his possession of her, despite the tight flex of her muscles tightening around them.
How had she lived all these years without this? How had she lived without him for so long?
“Crowe.” She would have sobbed his name, but she couldn’t find the breath. “Please … please…”
Bending over her again, his fingers began moving inside her as she worked her pussy against each hard thrust, feeling the pleasure building, her body tensing.
Dressed in nothing but high-cut panties, the leg band straining where he’d simply pushed it aside to possess her, Amelia found herself wishing she’d simply omitted the panties altogether that morning.
“Deeper,” she begged, her voice harsh, desperate, burning need searing her vagina as the clenching, steadily rising hunger and pleasure surged higher with each fierce stroke of his fingers inside her.
“Deeper, baby?” he moaned against her breast as he began kissing his way down her torso to the tight clench of her stomach.
Before he moved to the sensitive flesh between her thighs, he held the silk to one side and paused long enough to watch his fingers retreat from her inner flesh, thick juices coating his flesh.
A second later he took her again, the digits pushing in deep, hard, nearly sending her exploding into bliss.
As his fingers thrust inside her, his tongue flicked over the swollen bud of her clit. He tasted her with quick, firm flicks of his tongue and hard, tight suckling kisses along her flesh.
Amelia couldn’t hold back her cries.
Pleasure swamped her, infused her. Crowe’s lips and the heated interior of his mouth drew on the hard point, sucking it firmly, his tongue rubbing it, rasping against it as he fucked her hard, deep, sending jagged flares of ever-deepening pleasure to pierce her senses.