Ultimate Sins

by Lora Leigh

  Yeah, he could do that.

  Or on the bed. On her knees, her shoulders pressed to the blankets as he watched himself take her. Pushing in, pulling back, and watching the sweet juices as they clung to his cock.

  Or—his breathing grew rougher. He could take her in a far different way as she had her ass lifted to him. He could part the soft rounded globes, tease and stroke that hidden entrance, and hear her scream with pleasure as he pressed inside her.

  Narrowing her eyes on him, Amelia watched as the gold in his eyes seemed to leap and burn the longer he watched her. Beneath the glow of the small light next to the bed, she could see the pre-cum bead at the head of his cock, the heavy veins throbbing harder, pounding, her pussy clenching at the thought of feeling it inside her.

  Her breathing accelerated.

  And he was breathing just as hard as she was.

  Her mouth watered to taste him; her pussy wept with a hunger to milk the heavy length inside her again. To feel the solid strength of him as he thrust in the thick stalk, his body braced above hers, protective and yet unable to do anything but share the adventure with her.

  He couldn’t have sex with her without her participation, yet, he could refuse to allow her to participate in other parts of her own life.

  “Why do you keep doing this to me?” she moaned weakly as he touched her then, his hands uncurling her fingers from her robe before he pushed the fabric slowly over her shoulders.

  “Doing what, sugar elf?” he whispered, his lips going to her shoulders as her robe fluttered to the floor, his fingers moving to the slender straps of her gown. “Giving you pleasure? Keeping you hot and satisfied? Didn’t we both go long enough aching for it?”

  He pushed the straps of her gown over her shoulders, his fingers stroking down her arms as he tugged it over the swollen, sensitive flesh of her breasts. She trembled at the pleasure she knew he would give her.

  “Not talking to me?” she moaned, her hands lifting to his forearms, her fingers touching his flesh, stroking it as she ran them up his arms to his shoulders. “Not explaining…”

  A shudder raced through her as his teeth raked over her neck.

  “I’m going to explain all kinds of things to you tonight, baby,” he promised. “How hard I am. How hungry you make me. How sweet your pussy is. How snug and hot it gets as I fuck you. And I might even explain…” His hands caressed up her side, stroking her, heating her. “… just how much I’d love fucking that pretty, curvy little ass of yours.”

  Every muscle in her body seemed to clench as pleasure rippled from her womb, surging to her clit then washing through the rest of her body like a sensual tidal wave.

  She lost her breath, for a second.

  “You’re not serious,” she gasped, the words tearing from her lips in a breathless little sound that came far too close to anticipation.

  One hand moved to her rear, his fingers cupping a rounded curve as he palmed it, parting the narrow cleft that separated it from its mate and causing a forbidden little pinch of sensation in the tiny opening there.

  “Feel that, baby?” he whispered, his lips moving to her ear. “I’d take you there. And I’d make it so good.”

  His fingers slid into the narrow cleft, stroking, probing until they found the tiny rosebud hidden below. Pressing the pad of his finger against it, he caressed it, stroked it, as Amelia felt the tiny entrance clenching in response to his touch.

  “You’re crazy.” Her voice was a helpless, needy moan.

  “For you,” he whispered, his kisses moving over her cheek to her parted lips. “Always for you, sugar elf.”

  His lips moved over hers then, rubbing against them, parting them farther. He wanted the sweet, lush taste of her, the pleasure of her tongue dancing with his, and the electricity that sang through his nerve endings as she began to give herself over to him.

  As her lips parted, her tongue peeking out to meet his, a hard, desperate groan escaped his chest. He hadn’t expected the sound, just as he hadn’t known how much he needed her until she gave to him. Until she accepted his kiss, accepted him.

  Lips moving together, melding, tongues tasting, Crowe moved one hand from her rear to her shapely waist as the other stroked to the curve of her breast. Swollen and firm, the tender flesh pressed into his hand as she arched to him. A mewling sound of pleasure and need worked through their kiss, clenching his balls at the throaty little demand of it.

  Shaping the plump flesh of her breast, his thumb found the hardened tip of her nipple, stroked it, loving the velvety texture as he felt sharp little nails digging into his shoulder.

  Oh yeah, baby, hold on tight. Dig those little claws in because you’re about to get a hell of a ride.

  When morning came she may not know why he was keeping a distance between himself and his daughter, between him and his sugar elf whenever they were outside this bedroom, but she would know it didn’t have the first damned thing to do with not wanting her. Or not loving his child.

  When morning came, she would know he’d claimed her. That they were branded into each other’s souls. Hell, they’d done that seven years ago.

  Tomorrow morning Amelia wouldn’t consider anything that would jeopardize the loss of his touch, he promised himself. She wouldn’t doubt his hunger for her, his need for her. Or his dedication to her.

  And she would know to the bottom of her soul that no matter how it may appear, nothing, no one would matter more than her and their child.

  Just as she would know he would do whatever it took to keep her safe.

  CHAPTER 25

  Nipping at her plump, kiss-swollen lips, Crowe let his kisses move along her chin, her cheek, then begin a slow, sensual glide to the uplifted peaks of her breasts.

  Her head tilted back against the wall, her breath rushing hard and heavy from her lips as he scraped his teeth over the sensitive column then tasted it with flicks of his tongue. Every kiss, every taste of her flesh intoxicated him further, just as it pulled her deeper within the sensual fog he could feel overtaking her.

  * * *

  Amelia could feel it. Those dazed, body-humming sensations that rose from the pit of her womb, swept through her belly, then began radiating outward and overtaking her. It was like fingers of electricity traveling beneath her flesh, flicking against her nipples, her clitoris, and overriding any sense of self-preservation she may have actually possessed.

  Nothing mattered but this.

  Weakened by the surge of sensual lassitude filling her, her knees began to buckle, but she didn’t have to worry about that. Crowe swept her into his arms, cradled her against his chest, and moved for the bed.

  Laying her in the middle of the mattress, he didn’t give her time to think, or time to consider. He wasn’t about to give her a chance to protest.

  Not that protesting even entered her mind once he’d touched her.

  Watching through passion-heavy lashes Amelia licked her lips, her fingers curling in the sheets beneath her as she glanced once again at the hard, heavy length of his cock.

  Engorged and dark, the mushroomed crest throbbed, a bead of warmth shimmering at the centered slit before he gripped the flesh and stroked his hand down it.

  She knew the taste of him. She knew the bruising hardness of his shaft as it filled her mouth, stroking in and out in shallow thrusts, just as she knew the fierce, penetrating force of it between her thighs.

  She knew it, and she ached for it.

  And damn his hide, he was teasing her with it.

  Stroking the hard flesh again, his gaze narrowed on her, those oddly colored eyes burning with lust, but holding the faintest gleam in their depths that revealed he was assessing her responses, gauging them, and probably mentally noting which touch, which bit of flesh to kiss, to achieve maximum pleasure and leave her willing to do whatever he wanted.

  She knew him.

  All her life it seemed, she had watched him, studied him, and now she was curious, very curious as to what he intended to do with whate
ver information he was gathering.

  What he wasn’t going to do was make her beg—at least not yet. Give it another five to ten minutes, she thought in resignation, and she’d probably be willing.

  Instead she let her fingers play against her stomach, where her hand had rested after he laid her on the mattress. She scraped her nails back and forth over the soft skin, her breath catching at the piercing pleasure that shuddered through her.

  This only happened with Crowe. She couldn’t give herself this much pleasure, not without his touch as well. And she knew no other man could even come close.

  “So damned pretty,” he groaned, sending a flood of warmth washing through her. “I’ve never seen anything prettier than you, especially when you’re flushed with pleasure and aching for my touch.”

  How the hell was she supposed to hold on to any self-control, let alone any part of her soul when he said things like that?

  Then it didn’t matter. Crowe reached out, his fingers touching hers, easing them aside; then he ran the tips over her stomach as she had done.

  And it was so good.

  So good and so hot, causing her to arch to him, to whimper for more. More of his touches, his kisses, whatever the hell he wanted to give her.

  Her hand fell from her stomach, her fingers clenching in the sheets beneath her as he ran just the tips of two fingers along the pouting, bare folds of her sex.

  “I almost came in my jeans the first time I saw your pretty pussy,” he rasped, his voice growing darker, huskier as his touch met the thick layer of juices gathering on the intimate folds. “All swollen, with just this tiniest patch of curls.”

  Finding the small triangle above her clit and brushing his fingers against the curls there, his diabolically knowing fingers also brushed the softest caress against her swollen clit.

  A surge of sensation rushed from the tiny nub of gathered nerve endings and sent a punch of rapturous sensation to clench her womb. The force of it stole her breath and tightened her belly as a flood of silky juices rushed along the clenched inner channel.

  “So wet and ready for me,” he whispered, his head lowering to nip at her thigh. “And I can’t wait to taste the softest treat I’ve ever had at my lips.”

  And she couldn’t help but watch. She wanted to watch.

  Pushing her weight to her elbows and staring down her body, Amelia watched as he delivered a gentle, light-as-air kiss to her swollen clit.

  And nearly made her come.

  Her hips jerked toward his mouth in response, desperate to hold him to her, to rush over the climactic cliff she could feel awaiting her.

  “Don’t tease me,” she whispered desperately.

  “Would I do that, little sugar elf?” he questioned her with such patently false innocence that she knew he would do exactly that.

  “You would do that and more,” she said, panting and catching his gaze as he looked at her through the thick, spiked lashes that nearly covered his eyes.

  “Hmm” was the only response she got before his head lowered again and his tongue wiped through the narrow slit of her pussy.

  Amelia fell back, unable to support her weight any longer, even to watch what he was doing to her.

  Because it was so good.

  It was incredibly good.

  His tongue licked in one long stroke through the sensitive flesh, caressing nerve endings that had never been so sensitive, so responsive. As though the anger that had raged through her moments ago had only stimulated her senses for his touch.

  Her knees lifted and bent, her feet pressing into the mattress as she thrust her hips to the tormenting lick of his tongue. It flicked through the pouting folds, probing at her tender clit, then moved to the saturated entrance of her pussy.

  Just when she thought he would impale the aching flesh with his tongue, he pulled back. Tormenting her, teasing her, he flicked a heated lick through the sensitive folds once again. Probing tastes led his tongue to the burning nub of her clit, and he caressed the swollen bundle with flicks that threatened to have her begging in far less than the aforementioned five minutes.

  Hell, forget begging, she would be crying. Screaming.

  “Crowe. Oh God, don’t tease me like this,” she moaned brokenly, her head twisting against the sheets as her hands gripped his hair, holding tight just in case he decided to move or to stop. Oh God, what would she do if he stopped? She didn’t think she would be able to bear it.

  Rather than answering, Crowe let a low male groan rumble from his throat and vibrate against her clit as she cried out again, her body straining to get closer to his teasing tongue.

  She couldn’t even close her legs or escape the deliberately taunting licks of his tongue. His hands were flat against her inner thighs, holding them apart, creating the space he needed to drive her crazy with his touch.

  Flashpoints of incredible pleasure reverberated through her pussy, traveled in quick zaps to her womb, then surged to her pussy with sensual little explosions that didn’t even come close to release.

  “Oh God, please,” she moaned as he licked down the narrow slit.

  The taunting licks and kisses moved to the clenched opening of her vagina again. There, he rubbed at it with the flat of his tongue until every cell in her body was poised in anticipation.

  She needed his tongue doing what it was supposed to do there. He was supposed to push it inside the painfully needy flesh and use it to stroke her to release.

  And he could, so easily.

  Pulsing, painfully clenched, her inner muscles throbbed with the need to be stroked, stretched, and fucked. She needed it until she felt poised on a pin edge of agonizing lust.

  But did he do anything to relieve it?

  Did he even try to ease the need burning through her?

  Oh, hell no.

  With his tongue still flattened between the plump folds, he licked back to her clit then surrounded the little bud with his lips and gave it deep, erotic kisses that almost—just almost—threw her over that edge.

  “Damn you!” she cried out as he eased back to lay several kisses along the slick, soaked folds.

  She couldn’t stand it.

  Panting, she strained to get closer to him, to convince him to give her just a second of what she needed. Just one hard licking thrust—his tongue surging inside the fluttering, gripping tissue.

  “Oh my God. Crowe yes, oh my God—” Sensation exploded inside her, tossing her into a chaotic wave of incredible pleasure. Her hips tilted, lifted, desperate for the deepest touch possible.

  Just as quickly as he thrust inside her, his tongue retreated.

  A quick little thrust, the barest taste of her, and then he was gone.

  Completely.

  Her eyes opened quickly, staring down her body as his head lifted, his gaze catching hers.

  His lips were swollen, damp from her juices, and as she watched he licked them with sensual enjoyment. The gold in his gaze flared as though in response to the taste of her.

  “What are you trying to do to me?” she whispered. Her entire body was burning and all too aware of him as he lay between her thighs.

  “Touch your breasts,” he whispered. “Let me watch you play with them.”

  She didn’t even think to refuse him or dare to negotiate. She should, she really should, but her breasts were so sensitive, so aching that any touch would have the potential to push her over the edge.

  As she cupped her breasts, her breath caught in her throat, a broken, desperate cry escaping her as a low moan of tortured pleasure.

  “Oh yeah, sugar elf,” he breathed out roughly.

  As though rewarding her for following his command, he slid one hand along the inside of her thigh before his fingers moved to the wet, swollen folds of her pussy.

  Parting the aching flesh as he watched her caress her breasts, his fingers moved to the aching entrance of her vagina. Then they rubbed against it with slow, light movements that circled then pressed against the opening with flirty little touche
s and near thrusts into the fluttering flesh.

  “So pretty,” he whispered again, using his tongue for something other than what she was desperate for.

  “You’re driving me crazy,” she cried out.

  “Ah, sugar,” he crooned. “Not yet. I promise, I have yet to show you what being driven crazy really means.”

  * * *

  Or he had yet to understand what being crazy for her meant. Crowe wasn’t certain which it was, but he knew he was having a hell of a time finding out.

  The problem was, he’d started this interesting little excursion for a reason. There had been a point to it. But dammit, he couldn’t remember what that point was. All he could concentrate on at the moment was the sweet, sweet, intoxication of her feminine heat and—he swore—the pleasure he could feel pouring from her.

  Sweet. Hot. The most intoxicating taste he’d ever known.

  Each time he touched her, pleasured her, she spilled her lush taste to his waiting lips. Her body tightened, grew warmer and became more pliable to his touch. She lifted to him, reaching for him as he rimmed the silken entrance to her pussy and teased himself with her taste.

  The need to thrust inside her was becoming a hunger raging inside him. To plunge his tongue into the gripping, clenched tissue and feel it rippling around him.

  His cock throbbed furiously at the thought, eager to do the same. To feel her gripping it, her snug pussy milking his release straight from his balls.

  Damn her. She made him forget—

  God, there was something he was supposed to do—some lesson to teach her, and he just fucking didn’t care what it was anymore.

  He tilted his head, his fingers parting the swollen, syrup-slickened folds as his tongue thrust inside her. His need for her overcame anything—everything—else.

  * * *

  The feel of Crowe’s tongue pushing inside her, licking against the delicate walls of her pussy, sent desperate, aching surges of sensation of racing through her. Amelia swore she would die if she didn’t come. If he didn’t make the throbbing ache ease she was going to die.

  Reaching, lifting to him, a strangled cry tearing from her throat, she was certain, so certain she would fly straight into that abyss of rapture if he would just speed up the licking thrusts a little. Just a little—