by Ami LeCoeur
His eyes were lowered when he came around the car to get me, and I needed to break the silence.
“Carry me.” I wouldn’t let him put me down. If I could get him in the house, I knew he wouldn’t just leave me there without my wheelchair. It was the only thing I could think of to delay him making a hasty exit.
What I’d never expected, could never have anticipated, was how hard he’d cried when he realized I wasn’t blaming him, wasn’t pushing him away, wasn’t demanding anything of him. I’d never felt or heard anyone express their pain so hard. I couldn’t let him to go, wouldn’t let him leave in that raw condition.
I held him while he shook and cried, nearly gagging on the force of his tears. His hands had clutched at me, nearly painfully at times. But I refused to let him go.
It was almost a half hour before his shaking stilled and he’d grown quiet. I had no tissues. All I could think to do was use my sweater to wipe his face.
As he’d told me the story of the little girl, there were moments when I didn’t think I’d ever be able to breathe. In the craziest of universes, I couldn’t imagine facing that choice, being in that moment. Forced into being the giver or taker of life. Innocent life. Not soldier-to-soldier, but soldier to innocent civilian.
When he blamed himself, taking responsibility for the life he had no hope of being able to save, I became furious. So mad, the edges of my vision turned dark. No one likes war - no sane person anyway. But those men… I couldn’t begin to understand how they could justify using a terrified, innocent child to do their dirty work—their nasty, ugly, dirty work.
The full insanity of Thom suffering for so long, believing himself to be a murderer was almost more than I could bear. And seeing that… ggrrr… that stupid, manipulative bitch of an ex-wife taking delight in continuing to rub salt into his oozing wound, using his own sense of honor against him. Well damn, that just pushed me over the edge.
I’d have given nearly anything to have gotten into a car, driven to her house and kicked her ass. But right now that was impossible. So, I took all the anger and all the passion and all the emotion inside of me and directed it at Thom’s lips.
My hunger for him surprised me. Surprised him. I’d known I wanted him. I’d known I needed him. But the depth of the feelings inside astonished me. I’d felt a rush of power flash through me—stronger than anything I’d ever known existed—when he’d returned my passion with his own.
Tonight. Tonight I’d sleep with a man. With my man. I’d sleep with Thompson.
No, with Thom. Tonight I’d make love. For the first time. With… the man I… love.
As he laid me on the bed, I felt his hesitation return. I couldn’t allow it. Not tonight. Tonight I needed him as much as he needed me. I pulled him down beside me.
His lips glided over mine, his tongue teasing the seam of my mouth. Then he ran his hand along my shoulder and my body trembled with pent up emotion—anger, desire, anticipation. When his hand covered my breast, I felt the warmth radiate through my chest, my arms, the top of my head. My entire body came alive, electricity crackling along the nerve endings.
I pulled at his shirt. I needed to touch his skin. He moved away and stood up, pulling his t-shirt over his head. It was the first time I’d seen his chest, his abs.
Holy Chippendale. I knew he had a strong body, but I’d never expected anything like this.
Sculpted arms, bulging pecs and, oh my, the outline of a six-pack that rippled as he tossed his shirt to the floor. I pushed myself until I was sitting, needing… wanting my hands on him. I reached out and traced the muscles of his abs, then leaned forward and kissed each one.
He groaned and fisted his fingers in my hair as my fingers dipped under the waistband of his pants. I swallowed and reached for the button and then slid down the zipper. I never knew that sound could be so erotic.
I’d still been a virgin when I’d lost the use of my legs and while I had kissed boys and even done some pretty heavy petting, I’d never seen a penis up close. I’d never actually touched a naked one.
Not that I was a prude, but Mom had always warned about sex without commitment, and I’d taken on her high moral position about waiting until marriage, or at least ‘true love’. I didn’t know she was trying to protect us from what she’d gone through. And, after the accident, it was easy to condemn myself to celibacy.
But now, this would be my glorious first and it was happening with the most special man in the world. And, I was fulfilling my promise. This was a man I loved.
I took a deep breath and pushed his pants down his legs. Then his red and white striped boxers. I nearly yelped when that huge thing popped free.
Oh my God.
I looked up at Thom and he gazed down at me. He pushed my hair away from my face and lifted my chin. “Are you sure you want—”
I cut him off by wrapping my hand around his cock. He swore and gripped my hair again. I marveled at the thing I was holding.
Steel wrapped in velvet, it pulsed in my hand and I ran a thumb along the bulging vein down its center. At the base, I wasn’t able to close my fist all the way. He was long and thick and glistening. I swiped my thumb over the head where a drop of fluid had appeared. I’d heard about this, pre-cum, and I was drawn forward with a need to taste it.
Slowly, I leaned forward and touched my tongue to him, then my lips in a gentle kiss, opening to draw him slowly into my mouth. He moaned deep in his chest and I took that as encouragement to keep going.
I sucked and licked and held his balls in my hand, delighted and turned on, knowing I was bringing him such pleasure. I experimented with how deep I could take him into my mouth. Not very far. Practice. Practice. Practice. I told myself.
Too soon, Thom’s hands were on my shoulders and he pulled away. “You’ve got to stop.” I reached for him again, but he pushed me back upon the mattress. He laid down beside me and took my mouth again. Then, he pushed the strap of my tank to the side and kissed my neck.
Desire flooded through me and I willed him not to stop. He didn’t. He slipped off the other strap and pushed my top down to my waist. He traced the lace on the cup of my lacy bra until he reached the front clasp and, like magic, my breasts were free.
My mind screamed to cover them, but my body begged me to offer them to him. He needed no invitation. He dipped his head and found my nipple.
I arched from the bed, a deep sound pulling itself from my throat. I hadn’t known such pleasure existed as this.
“God, you’re so beautiful,” he whispered against my skin as he continued to pull bliss from deep inside my core. Each time he sucked, I felt it nearly curl my toes… or where my toes should be if I could feel them.
I was becoming anxious now, needing and wanting a fulfillment I couldn’t name. “Please. Make love to me.”
He lifted his head before crawling up my body. When his lips were pressed to mine again, he said, “I will. All night.”
Pushing up from the bed, he stood again and then lifted one foot, then another, removing my sandals. He leaned over me and slipped his fingers into the waistband of my pants.
I gasped and had a moment of panic. He must have seen it because he paused.
“We can stop anytime you say.”
“No. Don’t stop. I want everything.”
Slowly, inch by inch, he slid them down my legs. Then the tank that had gotten tangled around my waist was pulled down my hips, down my legs and landed in our growing pile of clothes. Only my panties were left. I licked my lips and wished so desperately that I could feel his fingers on my inner thighs.
“What can you feel, Maria?” he asked me, almost reading my mind.
“Not that.” His fingers traced higher, up my hips and nearly to my belly button. “I feel that.” My belly spasmed at his touch and, to my astonishment, something deep inside spasmed too.
“I’ve been reading a great deal about your paralysis,” he said. He seemed fascinated by the pattern on my panties. He leaned forward and kiss me t
hrough them. I arched and he looked up at me. “Did you feel that?”
“I… I’m not sure,” I admitted, my breath so shallow. “It’s not like I felt it, felt it. But I felt it inside. Does that make sense?”
He leaned forward and kissed me on my panties again, drawing a moan.
As his finger traced lazily on my stomach, he said, “I was reading about this behavioral neuroscientist and this research he’s doing.”
Research? He wanted to talk research… now?
“He was studying the nervous system of rats…”
Rats? Now he was talking about rats while I was lying here nearly naked. Excited, yearning. I reached for him, grasping at his arm, trying to pull him down to me again.
“Patience, this is important.”
I hissed at him, like a cat. A cat in heat.
He smiled and kept touching me. Touching me everywhere but where I wanted his hands. “So this scientist severed the three nerve pathways that connect the genitals to the brain.” He looked up at me and grinned. “Guess what?”
He’s asking me a question about nerves? My own nerves are so on edge, how am I supposed to think right now?
“Even with those nerves cut, the rats reacted to sexual stimulations as if their nerves were perfectly okay.”
With that, he stood again and in a fluid motion, my panties were off and he was settling between my legs.
“Let’s test that theory.”
Before I could protest, his tongue dipped between my folds, then up and circled my clit. I could feel and not feel. As if I was there, but not quite. It was the strangest thing. The pleasure flooded through me, but I felt no pressure or other sensation.
I sank my fingers in his hair, needing to hold on to him. I tried to arch my pelvis into him harder, but couldn’t. It was if he knew what I needed and tongued me harder, faster, sucking my lower lips into his mouth. I felt it, I think, when his fingers entered me.
I cried out, overwhelmed with sensation. Nearly in tears that I could feel… something. His fingers moved inside me as his tongue and lips stroked up and down my sex. I felt something inside building and growing. Was I going to climax? I begged him not to stop.
He didn’t.
As he licked and sucked, his hand moved up to curl around my breast. I moaned when his fingers twisted and squeezed my nipple. Pleasure danced with pain, leaving me breathless as I absorbed the sensations. The fingers between my legs thrust faster. Harder. Finding my core.
Oh… I was tightening, lifting, clenching in a desperate attempt to hold onto sanity. To keep from falling apart. Then I was there, on the edge. An edge I was afraid of yet yearned to leap from.
I no longer had a choice. I leaped, freely, ecstatically.
As I tumbled off the edge, lights seemed to flash, blinding me with their brilliance. All my senses exploded with the force of every emotion that had been pent up inside me. My upper body writhed and shook in a way I couldn’t control. Helpless, I gave myself over to this release.
Thom moved away and laid down beside me, stroking my face gently, then pulled me into his arms while I regained my composure.
“You’re so beautiful.”
He pressed his mouth to mine and I tasted me on his lips. I licked into his mouth, deepening the kiss. I pulled him over, wanting his weight on me. I wanted to feel his cock inside me. Now.
Reaching over the side of the bed, he fumbled for his pants and removed a condom, then tore it open and rolled it on. I was fascinated, watching his hands touching himself so intimately. I felt my belly clench when he licked his fingers and moistened the tip.
Circus music filled the room. It was his cell phone ringing next to the bed.
He cursed, but ignored it. I ignored it too.
He pushed my legs apart and moved up onto the bed. “Let me know if I hurt you,” he said.
“You won’t,” I promised. “Please, make love to me.”
The phone stopped ringing, leaving only the sound of our rapid breathing to fill the room. I blushed as he took in all of me with his eyes. I’d just had his mouth on me, licking and tasting me, but in that moment, his gaze was almost too intimate.
He lifted one of my feet into his hand, then lifted the other. I was fully exposed to him now, open and willing. He pulled me down the bed until his cock was nudging my entrance.
Circus music. His eyes closed.
“Do you need to get that?” I asked and then wanted to slap a hand over my mouth. His cock was right there, so close.
He shook his head and the music stopped. I reached up and touched his face as he hovered over me.
Circus music.
“Fuck!” He sat back on his heels.
“It’s okay,” I told him. “Get it. I don’t think they’ll stop.”
As he moved away, I guided my legs closed and then covered my breasts with my hands. My eyes were wide open, enjoying watching him bend for his phone, his cock leading the way.
He tapped a button and lifted it to his ear, his jaw taunt. “What do you want?” he asked, voice deep, almost deadly.
I pushed up to my elbows. Who could it be? Then it hit me. Rachel.
“Stop screaming. I can’t understand you.”
Pause.
“Shit” His eyes grew huge, his body stilled, and he thrust a hand in his hair. He reached for his boxers.
“How long?”
Pause.
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
Pause.
“What the…? Of course I don’t know, what the hell are you implying?”
Pause.
“I’m on my way.”
He tossed the phone to the bed and began yanking on clothes in record time.
“What? What happened? Tell me.”
He ignored me as he stuffed his feet into his shoes. What could be wrong? He was suddenly cold. Stiff. Businesslike. And moving away from me. From us.
I grabbed his arm and forced him to stop. “Talk to me, Thom. What’s happening?”
He stopped, his lips tight. Standing there, as if he was trying to remember where he was, grief and worry filled his eyes. He swallowed and cleared his throat.
“Emily’s missing.”
>>>End Book 1 <<<
To get the next book in the series, click here.
This series is a collaboration between Ami LeCoeur and Elle Dawson, based on characters created by Ami LeCoeur in her High Stakes Seduction series.
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About the Authors
Ami LeCoeur
Like most romance writers, I am a romantic at heart. But I believe romance takes many forms, so in my heart it’s the classic Romanticism of the late 18th and early 19th centuries.
I have many creative interests that include painting, quilting, and glass art, as well as being a writer.
When I’m not traveling, I live on California’s Redwood Coast with my husband and two kitties. We have a wonderful ocean view, and when the fog comes in—as it always does—I’m usually either curled up with a good book, or busy writing, painting, or hovering around a warm kiln.
If you enjoyed this book, I’d love for you to leave a review on Amazon or Goodreads.
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Twitter: @AmiLeCoeur.
Website: http://AmiLeCoeur.com
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Elle Dawson
Sharing ones thoughts on paper is an intimate experience, and should not be taken lightly. Some days I fear this process, as my mind can be a scary place to dwell. Other days I realize I’m not alone in this journey, and although the very action of expelling ones deepest thoughts onto paper is intensely personal, it is deeply healing. Funny how that works.
The
ideas for my books came at a time when I was hurting, and needed a release that only writing could bring. As a romance lover, I couldn’t make myself write of new love, when it is easy to be in love, easy to be mad for each other, easy to have sex every night. Instead, I found a need inside me to re-connect couples, to shine a light of inspiration into a bedroom that has grown cold.
So I will continue to write as Elle Dawson, and be a mom, sister, daughter and friend in my real life. And read books that take me away or speed up my heart.
I’d love to stay connected...please visit me at one—or both—of these places:
Website: http://elledawson.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ElleDawsonWrites
Email me: [email protected]
Contents
Chapter 1 — Thompson
Chapter 2 — Maria
Chapter 3 — Thompson
Chapter 4 — Maria
Chapter 5 — Thompson
Chapter 6 - Maria
Chapter 7 — Maria
Chapter 8 — Maria
Chapter 9 — Maria
Chapter 10 — Thompson
Chapter 11 — Maria
Chapter 12 — Maria
Chapter 13 — Thompson
Chapter 14 — Maria
Chapter 15 — Thompson
Chapter 16 — Maria
Chapter 17 — Thompson
Chapter 18 — Maria
Chapter 19 — Thompson
Chapter 20 — Maria
Chapter 21 — Thompson
Chapter 22 — Thompson
Chapter 23 — Maria
Chapter 24 — Thompson
Chapter 25 — Maria
Chapter 26 — Thompson
Chapter 27 — Thompson
Chapter 28 — Maria
About the Authors