“You mean you don’t invite me here,” she snarled.
“No, I don’t have any women here in my bed.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t explain to her that this was his safe haven, away from everyone and everything. He knew telling her that he thought of their relationship as more of a business association than an intimate one would only hurt her feelings, so he always kept it to himself.
“Are you complaining that I’m here? When have you ever rejected me blowing you off?” She slid her tongue along her lips. “I’ve given you a blow job while we’re driving down the highway and you didn’t say no.” When she was angry, her accent became heavy, or she interchanged between English and French, but thankfully he spoke the language fluently.
“You didn’t have another cock you could have sucked off tonight? The rich lawyer wasn’t available?” He didn’t like being harsh, but he’d known for some time she and the attorney-to-the-stars had been cozying up at social events. The thing was, Victor didn’t care one damn bit. He’d come to the conclusion that he needed to make changes so that Selena could have the life, and the bank account, that she desired.
She blinked, but recovered quickly, then crawled up his body, nestling herself against him. He couldn’t deny that she had a luscious, tight body, and usually wore slinky outfits that left little to the imagination. Hell, he’d never been one to judge a woman for having confidence, and wouldn’t start now, but he admired how Avary had looked tonight—she didn’t show off anything, but the accidental glances of her breasts above the cups of her bra, her slender shoulders and her long legs had turned him on more than he’d ever been in his life. He knew these emotions had nothing, and everything, to do with Selena. And it didn’t look good for whatever it was they had between them.
Selena rubbed her moist, warm pussy against his thigh. His cock jerked and he cursed that part of him that undeniably liked soft curves way too much. “Don’t be grumpy, Vic.” She slid her finger along his jaw. “I drove all this way just to pay a friendly visit.” She slithered her fingers down his chest, over his stomach and to his groin, taking his shaft into her palm and lightly squeezing. “It seems this part of you isn’t disappointed in seeing me.” She chuckled. “I brought my handcuffs. I’m feeling a little naughty tonight.”
He gritted his teeth.
“Why don’t I pretend that I’m the rich mistress and you’re my lowly servant?” She licked one flat nipple and he moaned.
His cock grew in her palm, and he couldn’t control it. He needed a release, but this wasn’t what he’d planned. She continued to slide her hand up and down, flicking her thumb over his head that ached something horrible.
A petite blonde with too big of eyes and pale skin came to mind.
Sensations tripled in his gut. He couldn’t tell if it was heat from the spiraling need or guilt. Selena continued to roll her fingers skillfully along his shaft. His dick jerked and his ass clenched.
His mind again conjured images of Avary.
Damn. His mind and body were at war.
He laid his palms on Selena’s bare shoulders and gently pushed her back. Her eyes widened. “Selena, I can’t do this.”
“Can’t or won’t, because it sure seems that parts of your body certainly can and that’s the only part I care about.”
“Okay, I won’t do this.” He pushed away from her and slid from the bed, grabbing his boxers and jeans from the chair and dragging them on. When he turned back to her, she was sitting up at the waist, her large, beautiful breasts visible, her thick nipples hard and inviting. Her hair tumbled across her shoulders, her mouth was perfectly full and he knew what they could do to his body. He gave his head a shake and growled deep in his chest. How the hell was this happening to him? Every time he started to even think of sinking his body in Selena’s pussy, an image of Avary came to mind. Sure, she was pretty in an innocent sort of way, but he wasn’t interested, at least not in sleeping with her. Innocence had never been his thing. He liked vixens, like Selena, who liked taking things to the next level, understanding his needs.
“Are you sure, Victor?” She pushed the blanket further down her soft hips and thighs, exposing the bare treasure that once gave him much pleasure.
He hesitated. He could so do this…do her. No one would know. One last tryst as a goodbye. He scrubbed a hand over his head. Hell, he’d know. He wasn’t sure where all of the morals and ethics were popping up from, but at this rate he’d be a damn gentleman before long.
“I’m very sure,” he muttered.
With an irritated sigh, she climbed out of bed and very confidently sashayed her way over to where her clothes were dumped in the middle of the floor. She slowly dressed and he stood there watching, not because he wanted her, but because he knew this would be the last time he’d see her, at least this way. Nothing would have ever come of their relationship, and he was okay with that. He still couldn’t forget that she’d been his go-to girl when he needed a soft body to hold.
Once she was dressed, she turned to him, flashing him with a laser glare. “I hope you’ve made the right decision because hell will freeze over before you touch this again.” She smoothed her fingers along the curve of her voluptuous hip and slid her fingers up her inner thigh, touching her crotch, then she glided toward the door, carrying her heels.
“Fuck!” He tore his hand through his hair. “You’re staying, Selena.”
One corner of her mouth lifted. “Change your mind? I knew you would.” One corner of her mouth popped up.
“Not about that, but you’re two sheets in the wind and I won’t have it on my shoulders if you wreck and kill yourself,” he grumbled.
“Your bed is big enough for two.” She moved for his bed and he gently took her elbow, guiding her to the door. “What are you doing?” she squealed.
“We have plenty of guests rooms, sweetheart. There’s one downstairs that has your name written all over it.”
****
I can’t believe I’m here. It’s beautiful, but way out of my league, and yet I felt more comfortable tonight than I have in a very long time. Is it this place with its tranquility and beauty, or something more? A tall, dark, handsome man with eyes that seem to sweep into my bloodstream. This is the first night I haven’t wanted to check the doors to see if they’re locked or look under the bed before I went to sleep. Although it’s not a huge step toward recovery, it certainly is a beginning. Baby steps. That’s what the doctor said to expect from myself. I enjoyed the company of Angelina and I saw true understanding in her eyes as I explained how fear had paralyzed me. I couldn’t help but feel privileged being in the presence of such a strong, solicitous, amazing woman. To make a hard choice, one that isn’t widely accepted, shows just how strong she is. I do believe I have a lot to learn from her and wonder if my arrival is more for my benefit than hers. I still am not sure how to take Victor. He’s a mystery as much as he is astonishing. I’ll just have to see how tomorrow goes before I make a real, logical judgement on him.
Closing her diary, Avary put it away and got out of bed to go to the window. She looked at the twinkling stars, extra bright against the inky backdrop of the sky. Everything was so quiet here, which wasn’t always a good thing. A house this size needed noise…people laughing, kids playing, dogs barking. That was not a place where she should allow her mind to wander, yet, Angelina had said herself that she wished Victor would find someone to love him, someone he could love with all of his heart. His sister worried about him.
Avary and Angelina had become instant friends. Avary couldn’t begin to understand what Angelina felt as death loomed closer, but the woman was brave and had more strength than anyone Avary had met. It made her think about her past, how the mugger had taken away her security. This was nothing compared to what Angelina was experiencing. How horrible Victor must feel, watching the person he loved, part of his family, becoming sicker each day. Avary could grasp how that would make him bitter. If anything happened to her sister, Avary couldn’t imagin
e going on.
She went to the bedside table and took out the glass panda, smiling. It was Victor who’d given her the gift. She should be shocked, but it wasn’t shock that she felt. Over the years she’d kept the figurine close, feeling as though it was special and never understanding why. A part of her wished he’d given it to her himself, instead of asking the nurse to, but she hadn’t been prepared to see anyone…not even her sister at that time of her life.
Once she’d left Angelina’s room, she’d wanted to run to Victor and tell him thank you for the gift, but if he’d wanted her to know, wouldn’t he have told her?
Did he even remember bringing it to her?
If he told her he didn’t, it would ruin the special feeling.
She decided it was best to wait.
Going to the bed, she climbed between the luxurious sheets and cuddled against the large pillow that was soft and welcoming. However, sleep evaded her. She tossed and turned, punching the pillow as if it was some way at fault.
She had brought her prescription, a mild sleeping pill for nights when her mind wouldn’t shut down or anxiety got the best of her. She used them only on occasion.
Turning on the lamp, she took the bottle out of the top drawer of the nightstand and started to open the lid when she decided she would skip the sedative. Instead, maybe a glass of water would be better.
The clock read one A.M.. Would everyone be asleep?
Leaving her room, she quietly made her way down the hall and the stairs, through the semi-darkness, grateful for the wall sconces that were on, and into another hall and was beginning to think she was lost until she finally found the kitchen on the other side of two swinging doors. Turning on the light, she scanned the large space. It was a chef’s dream with professional stainless steel appliances, a rack overflowing with pans, and baskets of fresh vegetables and fruits on the island.
“Now where would the glasses be?” she whispered, opening one cabinet then another with no luck.
“Can I help with something?”
The thick, rich voice made her body still and her spine prickle. She slowly turned and found Victor standing in the doorway, holding one swinging door wide open. His eyes appeared silver and pensive. His jaw was covered in a crisp layer of beard. She lowered her eyes over his bare shoulders, broad, smooth chest and rippled abs that told her he took care of himself. The waist of the jeans settled low on his hips. She dragged her attention back onto his face, wishing her nipples weren’t bunched and tingly. “I-I didn’t think anyone would be up.” She hated that her quivering voice told of her inner turmoil.
“Neither did I.” His gaze slipped over her and one corner of his mouth curved into a sultry smile.
She wore the red, satin nightgown Dawn had packed for her and she realized how thin the material was. The heat from his stare seeped in, burrowing through her flesh straight into the center of her bones. Her knees wobbled and her belly fluttered. “I’ll leave you alone,” she muttered. Stepping across the room, her feet tangled in the hem of the gown that was too long, and felt herself stumbling awkwardly forward.
“Shit!” Victor moaned, grabbing her elbow and tugging her back, drawing her into his body.
Avary leaned against him, realizing how close she’d been to falling face first on the ceramic tiles. Her embarrassment didn’t last long. It was exchanged for something else—something entirely delicious and haunting. He continued to hold her, her back pressed against his iron hard chest and lean hips. His scent swirled under her nostrils, reminding her of a fresh load of laundry coming out of the dryer—clean and fresh. There was also a hint of body wash—spice and musk. All entwined together made an aphrodisiac for her senses. Her knees weakened and she allowed him to steady her.
“That was close,” he whispered near her ear, his breath sweeping across her cheek.
He didn’t release her and she didn’t move. Instead, he lifted his hand to her jaw and slowly brushed his knuckles across her skin, tracing the line to where her pulse beat rapidly in the hollow at her neck. His fingers moved along her shoulder, examining the trembling flesh, gliding the tip of one finger over the tiny strap that held the top of the gown in place. He tucked his thumb underneath and gradually tugged it. The gown slipped low onto one breast. Her nipples turned to solid pearls. He skated his thumbs down her arms and she shivered, a whimper escaping her quivering lips. His breath grew hotter against her nape, his chest lifting and falling raggedly. He nuzzled her neck, his sandpapery beard rasped her sensitive flesh, but quickly forgotten when he brushed his lips against her ear lobe, lower to the spot where her neckline met her shoulder. She was at a loss, uncertain what she should do. She couldn’t move for fear that she would land on her face. And her body liked his touch, enjoyed how he erupted a cluster of sensations through her, over her, around her.
She felt his gentle touch on her wrist—the hand with the scar. She moaned in refusal, but he continued to slide his fingers along the length of hers, his thumb tracing the puffy red line. Sparks traveled up her arm and all she could do was stand there, allowing him to coax forbidden sensations within her. He brought her hand to his mouth and he kissed the spot where the scar was reddest, where the knife had first entered her flesh, the deepest cut. Then he traced the line with the tip of his tongue, upward from her palm, over her sensitive wrist and stopping where the scar ended, then kissing her again. Her veins quaked and her heart skipped ten beats. She’d never known such tenderness, such emotion.
A low groan slipped from within his chest and he easily turned her around to face him. She met his burning gaze and her lungs deflated. Seconds ticked by, maybe hours…maybe forever. She was in a hypnotic state as she watched him, his lovely eyes, his beautiful mouth that promised passionate kisses and of the secret things he could do to her—for her. For the first time in her entire life, she wanted a man to rip her clothes from her body and take her—hard and fast. She wanted to know what he felt like, have him explore her virgin flesh.
Would he oblige her?
****
It occurred to Victor that he was in some kind of fascinating time warp, where everything stood still and the only two things that mattered were the woman he held and the need burrowed deep in his groin.
He was captivated by her, mesmerized by how beautiful she looked in the gown, how her nipples caressed the fabric as if searching for a mouth to suckle them raw. Her hooded, ‘fuck me’ gaze that reached into his center and threatened to make him cum in his boxers. Oh, but she wasn’t the fucking type. Not Avary Pine with the innocence of a lamb. He had to force air into his lungs, pushing it out as he watched her closely, not wanting to miss one glimpse of change in her expression.
He registered her every soft curve, her scent, the delicious way she whimpered, not in pain, but in lust. His thigh was tucked between hers and heat seeped past the denim. She looked up at him with brilliantly blue eyes, shooting desire through him that rocked his world. He’d always known she was beautiful, but now he added sexy and dangerous to the mix.
Although they knew each other only shortly—knew very little about each other—he realized that he could totally lose himself to her. That thought scared the hell out of him, and it should her too, because he knew once he loved, he would love with every fiber of his being.
He definitely wanted her—on the brink of needing her more than he needed his next breath.
And if he wasn’t already sure that she wanted him as much as he wanted her, she closed her eyes and her lips slightly parted. Every cell on his body came to alert. She inhaled sharply and her chest lifted, her lovely, large breasts pressed against his chest, and his cock grew so big he thought it would find its way out of the waist of his jeans.
Her eyes opened slowly and there was a new look, one with purpose, a resolve of how she felt. She stood on tiptoes, placed her hands on either side of his face and kissed one corner of his mouth, then surprised him by following the seam with the tip of her tongue. He growled and pressed his mouth to hers, pus
hing his tongue deep, swirling around her precious mouth. She stood her ground, tongues grinding, rubbing, need transferring between them in heated waves.
He bent, placed his hands on the back of her thighs and lifted her high. She wrapped her legs around his hips, the hem of her gown coming high on her waist and the apex of her thighs pressed his groin. He backed up until he reached the island, turned and placed her on the edge, situating himself in the wide V of her spread thighs. Both were breathing heavily—both wanted to take things to the next level.
Dropping his hands to the top of the gown, he pushed the material down over her bare breasts, molding the firm mounds under his palms, rubbing her swollen nipples with his thumbs. She arched her back, moans of pleasure rolling off her parted lips, sending scorching signals to his cock. He wanted to tear off her panties and thrust himself deep inside of her body, feel her wrap around him, but he needed to take things slowly.
Lowering his mouth to her breast, he suckled the pale pink nipple, flicking his tongue over the bud, then sucking the flesh as far into his mouth as he could. He could lick her tits all day long and never get enough. He had a feeling she’d like him to.
Her nails nicked his scalp, scraping across his skin as she tugged him closer. Her scent grew heavy in his nostrils and he knew she was ready. He found the elastic of her panties, slipping his fingers past the wispy barrier, he touched the soft, tuft of hair at her sex. It’d been a long time since he’d been with a woman who didn’t wax her pussy bare. The thought of her still having tight curls on her sex excited him, made him harder, if that was possible.
He spread her moist lips wide, paying special attention to her clit, tweaking it until the silken flesh swelled under his fingers. Her breaths were now pants, heavy and fast, her heart beating so fast he could hear it, or maybe that was his own.
“You like my hand on your pussy, don’t you, sweetheart. I bet you’d like my tongue lapping your juices,” he muttered against her breast. “I bet you like it fast and hard.”
Pride & Pleasure (The KNIGHT Brothers Book 1) Page 8