by Leigh, Tara
I am stunned into silence, wanting that moment back. That too-brief interlude when I thought our stand-off was at an end.
Instead we’re at an altogether different end.
I have nothing to stay for.
The words reverberate inside my brain, beating against my eardrums.
“You can’t leave!” I finally bellow, reaching for the only excuse that comes to mind. “We’re married.”
“I can, and I am,” she snaps. “Honestly, I don’t know what I was thinking. Being with you is like jumping from the frying pan into the fire. I quit my job when I realized what kind of organization my father was running when he and Chad expected me to help them. And now you’re doing the same damn thing.”
“Just hear me out.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “I won’t. And you won’t sweet talk me into changing my mind, either.”
Shock flows through my veins as I watch Aislinn throwing shoes into a shopping bag. “So, that’s it … You’re just going to leave me?”
“I’m not in danger anymore, right?”
“You still need to take precautions—”
“But I’m not about to be grabbed off the streets.”
“No.” It is a very reluctant admission.
“Good. I’m going to check into a hotel and take some time to figure my life out.”
“I own six apartment buildings. You can have your choice of—”
She whirls around, her eyes blazing. “Exactly. My choice, Damon. Whether I decide to stay in a hotel or a park bench is up to me.”
Park bench, my ass. “Fine.” I lift my hands, palms out. “Stay where you want.”
She makes a discontented noise and turns away from me.
But I’m not through, and I won’t be dismissed. “Fuck working in the DA’s office. Where does this leave us?”
Aislinn doesn’t stop moving, but she does slow down, her shoulders drooping. I push off the wall and close the space between us, wrapping my arms around her waist and pulling her into me. I press my nose into her tousled blonde crown, breathing deep. Aislinn’s honeyed sweetness expands within my lungs, filling my chest cavity, engulfing me in her light.
How the fuck am I ever going to let this girl go? How?
Every cell in my body gives a vicious protest at the thought.
I don’t want to.
I don’t want to.
I don’t want to.
Ever.
But I should.
What can I offer Aislinn?
Crime and corruption. Dirty Politics. Dangerous threats.
No. I will not be the warden who imprisons her within a cage she doesn’t deserve.
Not again.
Not ever again.
“Damon, I’m leaving.”
Her whisper creates a gaping chasm in the marrow of my bones. I know I need to let her go.
But I don’t.
I spin her around and draw her back against my chest. I push my fingers into her thick mane and gather the silken strands into a fist, tugging on them until Aislinn moans. “I know.” I release a shuddering exhale. “But not yet.”
Aislinn leans back into the grip of my hand, her eyes meeting mine. Gleaming with unshed tears, they are deep pools of need. The warmth of Aislinn’s breath caresses my throat, loosening the heavy knot of bitterness lodged there. Lifting Aislinn by her waist, I set her down on the marble counter, her thighs parting to span my hips.
I can taste Aislinn’s sweetness before our lips meet. A coarse groan rumbles from my chest as I slide my lips over hers. Once. Twice. The lightest of passes. Not quite a kiss, not nearly a claiming.
Is this what surrender feels like?
Mob bosses, cartel leaders, crooked politicians. They are mere pawns on my chessboard.
For a chance at forever with Aislinn, I’d upend the game entirely.
Except that my sins are too many, my enemies too merciless. Forever is impossible.
Our mouths finally fuse together, Aislinn’s moan a vibration that makes something deep in the pit of my belly clench hard. As I run my tongue along the seam of her lips, I untuck fabric from the hem of her skirt, her lips opening as I tug at the buttons running down her chest and push the silk over her shoulders.
Fuck. I pull back just enough to take her in. Smooth ivory skin. That perfect pink temptation of a mouth. The golden strands scattered across her shoulders, sliding over her collarbone. The sweep of inky black lashes framing twin pools of the deepest, purest blue.
Aislinn’s beauty is the reason poems are written, songs are sung, painters are inspired to put brush to canvas. It’s elegant and subtle. Quietly obvious, completely undeniable.
When our lips meet again, I unclasp the band of her bra and run my hands over the satin expanse of her back, my fingertips tracing each disc of her spine, the delicate wings of her shoulder blades. There is no part of her I don’t want to touch and taste. Admire and adore. Forever.
I can feel Aislinn’s temperature rising, the heat emanating from between her thighs. She is so light, her waist so narrow as I pull her off the countertop and set her on her feet. The zipper of her skirt makes a whine of protest the moment before it is just a puddle of black fabric on the floor. Her lace thong follows.
I pull Aislinn into my arms. Her thighs wrap around me, her ankles crossing just below my ass. I curse, feeling her slick heat against my skin. “You’re so fucking wet for me.”
A soft sigh tumbles from her mouth as she tucks her head beneath my chin. “You have that effect on me.”
I grunt as I sit down on the wide bench set against one of the walls, positioning Aislinn over my lap. “Do you remember your first night here?”
She gives a little sigh of pleasure as my hands roam over the smooth swells of her ass, the silky stretch of her thighs. “It was pretty unforgettable.”
“Your ass was bright pink from your fall.”
“Mmm. Don’t remind m—”
Her words are cut off by the loud slap of my palm striking her skin. A fresh surge of anger fills my chest as I recall the danger she’d knowingly put herself in that night. Anger at myself for creating a situation where she would risk lighting a fire in a locked room.
Anger that this will be our last night together.
Aislinn gasps, but she doesn’t struggle. My hand falls, again and again. I am methodical in this overdue punishment, soothing her skin between slaps, running my hand between her trembling thighs, sliding my fingers inside that pink pussy that’s swollen and glistening, taunting me with each jerk of Aislinn’s hips.
I thrust inside her wet heat, my movements deep and forceful. “I took care of you then. And I’ll take care of you now.” Another slap, another gasp, another caress and thrust.
Aislinn moans into the upholstered cushion, her small hands bunching the fabric into her fists as she squirms against my thighs.
By the time I even consider stopping, Aislinn’s ass is as shiny pink as a summer sunset. I let my hand fall one more time before leaning down to blow cool air over her stinging skin. She trembles, a keening cry escaping her mouth. “Sh,” I whisper, gathering her into my arms and holding her close to me.
Aislinn’s cheeks are wet, her lashes black spikes that flutter against my neck as she hiccups and pants. I wait a minute before picking her up in my arms and changing positions. “You won’t forget tonight, either,” I say quietly, more to myself than to her as I lay her across the bench and quickly get undressed.
As I straddle her, I read the questions in her eyes and press a kiss onto her lips before she can ask them. Tonight is not for talking.
Tonight is for touching and tasting and fucking. Licking and sucking and thrusting.
And maybe … maybe even loving.
My mouth on Aislinn’s is firm and fierce, swallowing down the doubts and questions I know she must have. Only when I feel her hips buck against me do I slide my lips down the curve of her jaw, exploring the downy sweet skin of her neck and the sensitive skin tucke
d behind the curve of her ear.
I push fingers that are still slick from Aislinn’s pussy past her lips. She makes a wanton sound in the back of her throat, her tongue lapping furiously.
Meanwhile, I press my tongue into the fluttering hollow between her collarbone, lingering over the pulse point for a moment before licking down to her breasts. I suck at her peaked nipples, my tongue sweeping over the ripe areolas that have turned dusky with desire, then the plump underside that curves into the fretted plane of her ribs. I mark my path to her navel with bite marks, shallow impressions that will only remain on her skin temporarily.
Except that I want to fucking brand this woman. Send her away with a mark of ownership forever emblazoned on her skin. Proof that she is mine, will always be mine.
Mine. I growl as I swirl my tongue inside her belly button, then move lower. Another nip on each of her hip bones, more on her inner thighs. My tongue delves into the hollows behind her knees, feasts on the fleshy part of her calves. I suck Aislinn’s toes into my mouth, pressing a hand flat against her belly as she wriggles and shrieks before flipping her over and making a similar exploration of her still glowing ass, the narrow curve of her waist, and the straight ladder of her spine.
I suck on her neck and run my nose through the long, golden strands of her tousled mane, inhaling deeply. Never again will I massage shampoo into this hair until it is a thick, slippery mass, rinsing suds from every strand until they cascade down her back like a waterfall of molten bronze.
My deep, regretful groan ruffles her hair and Aislinn rolls over, cupping her palms over my cheeks and kissing me again. Our tongues twist and writhe inside our mouths, her breath filling my lungs, my breath filling hers. My mind finally quiets as I am filled with the scent and taste of Aislinn. Her legs wrap around my waist, her fingers lacing together behind my neck as I brace myself on my forearms above her, my knees on either side of her hips. There is nothing between us except for my cock, pulsing and pressing into the flat expanse of her belly.
It would be so easy to pierce her right now. A slight shift upward, a smooth movement forward. But I haven’t tasted the deepest, most intimate, part of her yet today. I haven’t felt her buck and shiver, the sound of my name on her lips muffled by the grip of her thighs as they clench against my ears.
Before I can be deterred, I pull away and slide downward, ignoring Aislinn’s moan of protest.
Spreading her thighs, I take a moment to appreciate the bounty spread before me. The pale pink of her outer lips, the darker, glistening folds within, topped by the swollen nub of her clit that practically begs for my attention, the seam that leads to the tiny, puckered hole that expands just enough to grant me access.
My tongue explores every inch and crevice, savoring the taste of her. There is a hint of earthiness to Aislinn’s sweetness that is intoxicating. I gorge myself, licking and sucking and eating until Aislinn thrashes beneath my face, until the tremors rolling through her body finally cease and her hands pull at my hair, her thighs finally dropping away from my neck.
I rise, rubbing my cheeks over Aislinn’s breasts, coating them with her wetness before kissing her again, sharing the taste of her that still coats my lips and tongue as I drag the head of my cock through her slit. For a long minute, or maybe an hour, that’s all I do.
Kiss and tease.
Kiss and tease.
Until the throbbing becomes almost painful and I can’t take another second without being inside her.
The tight clench of Aislinn’s pussy feels like home, and I don’t hold back the growl of possession that rumbles from my throat. I stare down at her, committing to memory the blissful smile that pulls at her kiss-swollen lips, the flush of her skin made even more so by the abrasions from my stubbled jaw, her pupils so dilated by desire that only a smudge of blue is visible.
“Damon,” she whispers. Her voice is thick with wonder; a tremulous gasp.
I smile at Aislinn, positioning her so she’s straddled over my hips. “Say my name again, princess.”
“Damon,” she repeats, leaning forward and placing her hands at my shoulders as she begins to ride me. This is usually one of my least favorite positions, but not tonight. Aislinn’s alabaster skin glows, her soft lines and lush curves carved by the deft hand of a master, the swells of her breasts bouncing in the most enticing way.
I hold her hips, guiding her motions as she rises and falls, fascinated by the emotions that cross her face. Determination. Desperation. Desire.
Aislinn’s movements grow frenzied and jerky, her mouth falling open as her eyes close. Another orgasm so close.
I am close, too. I could fucking come just from watching Aislinn riding me. I press my thumb against Aislinn’s clit at the same time as I pull her down to me. The friction sends us both flying over the edge and I swallow her exultant shriek with another kiss.
Nothing tastes as good as Aislinn.
And nothing will hurt as bad as goodbye.
41
AISLINN
Damon falls asleep before I do. At least, I think he does. I’m not sure that he ever allows himself to be completely at ease. There’s always a tension to Damon’s muscles, an intensity in his expression. I have a sense that his mind is never entirely quiet. That he’s planning and scheming even in his dreams.
Right now, his breaths are peaceful but his arms around me haven’t loosened. He holds me tightly as if he’s afraid I will try to escape in the middle of the night.
I won’t.
Not yet.
I’m too tired. Exhausted, physically and emotionally. And not from sex. Well, not just from sex.
Sex. Somehow, that three letter word doesn’t seem nearly big enough to define what just happened. How, at first, his lips merely hovered over mine, breathing me in like I was something precious, a rare piece of art for him to worship. Like even my kisses were meant to be savored. And then, when he finally allowed his mouth to cover mine, he latched on with a hunger that swept me away. I was plunged into a deep, fast moving current that felt vast and powerful—and yet intensely intimate. As if Damon and I had an entire ocean to ourselves.
Every bit of resentment, every fear and doubt and question weighing so heavily on me … they all sunk to the bottom. There was only the two of us. His body. My body. Our kisses.
I would call it making love, except that I hate that term. I’ve always hated it. It belongs to women holding a martini in one hand and a cigarette in the other, punctuating their sentences with dahling.
Besides, Damon still hasn’t said the L-word.
And when Damon picked me up and carried me to bed, pulling me close, I lifted his hand to my face and dropped a breathless kiss on his knuckles. “This doesn’t change anything,” I whispered, the words scraping my tongue like jagged blades of broken glass.
He had stiffened, remaining quiet.
I almost turned over, so that I could look into Damon’s eyes. But I hadn’t. Painful truths are easier to bear when I can close my eyes and pretend I’m whispering into the dark.
Eventually, Damon pressed a lingering kiss onto the top of my head, his softly spoken, “I know,” ruffling my hair and sending a spray of goose bumps down my arms.
* * *
My pillow is damp when I wake up. As if I’ve cried a thousand tears during the night.
The swollen, red-rimmed eyes that greet me in the mirror confirm it.
Surprisingly, more fall when I walk into the closet, reminders of our passion slapping me in the face. The bag of clothes that was pushed to the floor when Damon lifted me onto the island. The oversized upholstered bench we’d used like a mattress. The smell of sex that still lingers in the air.
I dress quickly and gather as many of my things as I can carry. I don’t worry that Damon will stop me. Last night had been more than just sex. It was the end of our story. It was goodbye.
Which is why I twist the gorgeous ring off my finger and place it in the center of the granite countertop. The canary diamond flashe
s brightly beneath the crystal chandelier. Glints of gold that sear my corneas and raze my skin.
Goodbye, husband.
The men in the hall offer to help with my bags, but I only shake my head. I welcome their weight, the pinch of the straps digging into my shoulders. I need to feel something, anything, other than heartache.
I throw myself into the back of the car, mumbling the name of the hotel I booked this morning from my phone. Each breath is a struggle. My lungs feel like they can’t inflate properly, my brittle ribs protesting with each attempted inhale.
Before we pull away from the curb, the door opens. And for a brief moment, there is no more pain. A flash of euphoria explodes inside my brain, glitter made of rainbows and unicorns and pure, unfiltered happiness drenching me like rain.
But it’s not Damon.
“Finley.” Euphoria deteriorates into sharp shards of disappointment and confusion.
The car merges into traffic and she asks, “Where are we going?”
“A hotel, for now.” Where I’m going to watch the most depressing movies ever made, order comfort food from room service, and raid the minibar. Not necessarily in that order.
“What about your parents—you’re not staying with them?”
“I’ll see my mom, but I think I’m going to steer clear of my father for a while.”
“And Damon?”
“Him, too.”
For a long moment, neither of us says anything. I let my eyes drift to the window. So many people in this city. Everyone living their own lives, consumed by their own problems. It’s entirely possible that I will never see Damon King again.
Outside, buildings fly by, one after the other. Steel skyscrapers and brick brownstones, corporate office buildings and luxury high-rises. Men strutting in suits, women striding in stilettos. Joggers darting around nannies pushing strollers.
Life rolls on.
“What about me?” The question is softly spoken.
When I turn to face her, Finley blinks and averts her eyes. “What do you mean?”