by Angel Payne
“Emma. Emma.” His voice moves through me, vibrating along my skin and senses. “You…”
“No.” I sigh, savoring how our muscles coil together. How our bodies form to each other. “No…you.”
His low, lusting breath flows with his long, slow slides. “You…drive me.” He works a deep kiss into the bottom of my neck. “You illuminate me.”
I shudder and smile as he works his mouth back up to my jaw. “It’s my super power.”
I swear, just before his short chuckle, I feel a jolt take over his body. But his voice is smooth smoke when he drawls, “It probably is.”
“You know what that means, don’t you?” I wait one short beat, not giving him time for another comeback. “Now you have to show me yours.”
There it is again. The silent but incessant jolt through his frame, covered by another laugh. It’s sharper this time, probably because I waste no time in demonstrating exactly what “power” I need from him. Am beyond needing. Am beyond even thinking about. He’s turned me inside out. Pulled me beyond my defenses. Taken me to the point of no return. I’m wanton and uncaring, riding my pouting sex along his engorged shaft, lost in a vortex of climbing need and growing fire and pulsing passion.
“Damn. Fuck. Emma—beauty—wait. Wait. I have to—”
“Hurry,” I gasp as he slides his hand from my thigh and fumbles with something behind him.
“Christ.” But it sounds more like “rice” because he’s tearing a foil packet with his teeth. The next moment, the latex is a cool column between our bodies. As he slides the condom over his length, he dictates, “Say that again. Just like that.”
“Hurry.” I willingly oblige because one, I mean it, and two, I yearn to make him sound like that again. Like he can’t take a breath until I speak again. Like he won’t move without my begging gasps. “Please…just…hurry and—oh!”
It’s a moan of surprise and fulfilment, of pain and pleasure, of joy and sorrow. In his single lunge, I’m finally filled—but as he slides his cock out, retreating until his head teases at my tender lips again, I now know what it’s like to be without him. Tears stab my eyes. Everything aches. He hasn’t just taught me about the emptiness of my body. He’s left me in a deeper darkness. An existence without his passion, his laughter, his energy…
His more.
“Reece.” I don’t care how pathetic it sounds. If he wants to hear me beg, that’s damn well what I’ll do. “Please. Please. I-I need—”
“I know,” he husks. “I know.”
A moan, deep and dark, pours out of me. He doesn’t know. If he did, he’d give me more than just his tip, searing at the first few inches of my channel, teasing back into my weeping depths with painstaking seduction.
“But…but…”
“Close your eyes.”
I do it because he could ask me to whistle Mary Had a Little Lamb right now, and I would. I do it especially because his commanding growl is the sexiest thing to ever enter my body. Okay, the second sexiest.
“Both your hands. Flat on the glass.” He pulls the ottoman over a little more, enabling me to reposition my body and comply. “Now both knees up on this.”
A serrated snarl leaves him as I obey once more. The new alignment of our bodies seats him deeper, though the penetration isn’t close to that first incredible lunge. I need him like that. I need him so far inside, it hurts. I need him to dominate every thought I have, electrocute every cell in my being, fry every circuit in my senses. With every new inch he takes over, my blood sizzles. My skin ignites. My pussy is white-hot from his branding. And still I crave more. I need more…
The lust spreads through me like a virus. I’m fevered with it. Delirious from it. I need relief but never want to be healed. It consumes me, driving every move I make. My limbs writhe and roll, thrusting my channel back over his stalk, a physical plea for his full invasion once more. He answers with sharp, shallow stabs, swirling me into enraged insanity. No. Not insanity. I’m indignant. Enraged. I didn’t remotely want this. If we’re discovered, he’ll be banished to run an ice hotel in Mongolia and I’ll never work in this city again. But now that he’s turned my body into a raw frenzy, he refuses to give me the right antidote.
“Damn.” He grits it as I pump faster. The timbre of his voice is a fireball to my sex, stretching the walls of my restraint, making me cry aloud.
“Please.” My fingertips curl against the window. My shoulders snap back, molding against the perfect wall of his chest. He curls around me, draping me in his longing, firing the electrons of our passion even faster and hotter. His thighs are powerful and slick against my ass. He rakes his hands up my arms and slams them on the glass outside of mine. His cock conquers new depths of my body—a piston of such intensity, I wonder if I’m glowing from within. “Please!” I beg again. The piston needs to connect—now. The rod needs to strike—now.
“Damn.” His own echo is nearly a groan. “So hot,” he snarls. “So tight. I need to be deeper.”
“Do it.” So finished with begging.
“I don’t…know if I can hold it in for much—”
“Then don’t.” Really, really finished.
“It’s…been a while for me.”
I almost hurl back a glare of disbelief. “You trying to say you’re out of practice? Because I call bullshit.”
“I’m trying to say…dear fuck”—the oath escapes him as our bodies fit tighter—“that I don’t want to hurt you, and…fuck.”
I exclaim the word with him—as his cock takes over everything left inside me.
For a moment, just one moment, we just are. We’re locked. Tied by the connection of our bodies, the bond of our breaths, the electrons of the air swirling around us, through us, into us.
It’s crazy—at least that’s what I try to tell myself—but there’s no other way to describe the marvel of the starscape bursting to life beyond my closed eyelids. The sexual race of my body is now the blazing force of my mind, shooting texture and color to my vision. Blue, gold, and silver streaks consume the valley of my passion, colliding so hard that I’m overwhelmed—but when I open my eyes to escape the cataclysm, there’s more impossibility for my mind to wrap around.
Are his fingers, still slammed to the glass beside mine, glowing? Is that same indigo hue igniting the crux where our bodies are joined? And why can I see every vein in his body as if they’ve turned into lightning?
“Reece? What the—”
But I can’t get the question out. My scream slices the air as he thrusts fully once more.
Holy. Shit.
Every inch of my tunnel is invaded, every neuron of my body is detonated.
“It’s okay, Velvet. It’s okay.”
Though his words are hoarse rasps, I believe every syllable. Though all of this is beyond surreal, I accept it. Maybe it’s even easier that way. Remembering it as something like a wild dream will make it easier to forget.
Because once we leave this room, I have to forget.
Reece’s breaths are rough in my ear. He bends one of his knees onto the ottoman, tilting his cock for even deeper plunges. A stunned choke falls out as my pussy flares with pleasure, my eyes squeeze shut, and my senses are lost. The light ribbons are gone. In their place is a solitary glow, a sun into which my senses melt. The heat funnels toward my pussy until the dam of my restraint is nothing but rubble.
And I drown.
Liquid light, all around.
Molten completion, slamming through.
My sex is pure lightning. My senses are raw resonance. My lips open on a soundless scream as the torch inside me brings wave after wave of perfect fire, sparking pleasure so good it’s nearly unbearable.
“Reece. Reece.”
“Right here.” His growl is my ark in the flood, my refuge from damnation. We’re a pair of fallen angels, marking a path through the stars with the fire of our fucking. “I’m right here, Velvet.”
“Wh-What’s happening?” I hear my voice as if through a fog. I
sound totally toasted, though the electricity in my pussy counteracts that theory. I’m not drunk. This feels too damn good for drunk.
“I don’t know.” His grate is filled with just as much wonder. His cock swells at my walls, foretelling his own approach to the cliff of climax.
“You don’t know?” I’m incredulous. Maybe a tinge scared.
“I’ve never felt anything like this before.”
I believe him but don’t want to. Hasn’t he felt everything before? But as he continues to fuck me, the answer is irrelevant. “Oh,” I choke, as new arousal drives my pussy toward a new mountain of awakening. “Oh!”
How is this possible? How am I this tightly strung, this stunningly turned-on, once again?
“It’s okay.” He meshes his fingers with mine, squeezing until it hurts. I welcome his shackles, embracing the pain. It ensures me this is real. Achingly, blindingly real. “It’s okay, beauty. Let it happen. Let it take you.”
“Says the guy who doesn’t know what’s happening?”
I feel his smile against my cheek. “Then it’s an adventure for both of us.” He slides his grip along my body, sizzling heat following his fingertips all the way back to my waist. “An uncharted sea.” His hold tightens. He controls our pace, ramming my body back over his with faster urgency. Then even faster. “Sail it with me, Emma.”
“Yes.” No other response makes sense.
“Come with me, Emma.”
“Yes!”
We plummet together, descending into our own River Styx, where flames consume us—and then rocket us back to the stars. But now, we don’t just zip between the cosmos. We are a star, made of light and heat and brilliance, flaring with such force, the supernova is inevitable.
“Christ,” Reece snarls.
“Yes.” I return the plea.
“I’m going to come.” His voice wavers. Something about his moan snags at my senses. “I can’t stop,” he grates. “God help me.”
What’s going on? Why does he suddenly sound like he’s confessing murder? But even those thoughts vanish as I burst once more, caring only about the convulsions of my walls around his gushing cock.
“Oh,” I stammer. “Oh…oh!” And though my logic knows there’s a layer of latex between our bodies, I swear I can feel every drop of him spill into me. A thousand filaments of energy spread through my sex, as if I’ve become one of those plasma balls at the geekboy stores at the mall. The sensation intensifies when that electricity branches out, filling Reece’s fingers now spread against my hips, as he keeps pumping, rubbing out his scorching conclusion.
“Fuck.” He finally breathes against the back of my neck. “Fuck.”
“We sure did.”
My humor is met by Reece’s thick silence, pricking a sixth sense in me. Why has the weight of the air doubled in less than half a minute?
Before the next thirty seconds are up, he curls around to swiftly kiss the edge of my jaw before muttering, “I’ll be right back.” While there’s affection in his voice, its twinge of regret still lingers—but by the time I can turn around, he’s already disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door with a whump.
Confusion hits. It’s followed at once by curiosity. Enough to make me surge to my feet, yank my skirt down, and pad across the room. But once there, I hesitate in front of the closed bathroom door. Through the portal, I can hear his pronounced hiss. Then a slippery fwick, as he pulls off the condom. He whooshes out a breath. Whispers to himself, “Thank fuck.”
My forehead bunches. What the hell?
“Errrmmm… Everything okay in there?”
A fast thunk—the used rubber hitting the waste can, I assume—before the door is flung back and the man himself fills the opening.
I don’t disguise my sharp intake of breath. By all that’s holy. Probably the unholy stuff too. I don’t expect this new arrogance from him. Or its crazy effect on me. How can a male wearing his nerve like a second skin, though still covered by every stitch of his clothing, make me want to hump him again already? I can’t deny that truth as I take in his sultry smirk, half-lidded gaze, and tumbling hair. His arms are spread, elbows braced against the doorjambs. He crosses one ankle over the other, drawing my gaze downward—to the open V of his zipper and the gasp-worthy body part still bared in that gap.
“Right as rain in here.” His gaze matches his tone, alluring and steady. His sultry scrutiny dips down my body. “How about out there, bunny?”
I compel my own composure to stay even, though that means letting my blush run rampant. And no, the irony isn’t lost on me. After what I just let him do to me, on the company’s time—his company’s time—my system shouldn’t be granting me blush privileges right now. Yet there it is, acutely conscious of his bare crotch. And mine. The skirt might be down, but that stops none of his effect on everything beneath it. I’m wet all over again, my juices tickling as they slide toward my pussy. Reece’s stalk, which has never gone fully flaccid, bobs half an inch the moment my arousal scents the air.
“Just…peachy.”
Reece curls a smile, making me want to groan. Holy shit. The man’s generous lips are as mesmerizing as his proud cock. “Peachy, hmmm? Glad to hear that.” Just as swiftly, the mirth fades from his mouth…as fresh lust smokes his eyes. “You have no idea how glad.”
“Oh, I have some idea.” My effort at cute and coy is destroyed the moment he reaches over, dragging me close. In the same motion, he finds the top of the zipper at the back of my skirt. Before our bodies touch, he has the enclosure open. As our mouths tangle, the whole garment plummets to the floor. We’re flesh-to-flesh once more, my soaked slit cushioning his stiff length, my hungry moan absorbing his harsh grunts. I’m dizzy with disbelief but high on gratitude. How is this even happening? How is my body, my spirit, my very core already so ravenous for him again? This isn’t me. At least this never has been me. I’m the female with needs beyond my clit. The vanilla-town girl with the kaleidoscope-colored dreams. The one who can count past lovers on one hand and be fine—hell, be proud—of that fact.
“Yeah?” But his silken growl has me forgetting all concept of pride, especially as he sweeps me up, parking my ass on the marble vanity top. “Tell me about your ideas, beauty.”
His mouth, so elegant and entrancing, hovers less than an inch above mine. He doesn’t leave the space empty for long. At once his mouth sweeps down again…then his tongue spears past my lips, demanding a new, wicked dance. Though he leads the tango with smooth mastery, I’m struck once more by his urgent desire, which leads me to actually believe his earlier disclosure. It’s been a while for me…
“Yours fascinate me more.” The words quiver as he yanks me forward, nearly unseating me from the vanity, before wrapping my legs around his waist.
“Uh-uh.” His tone is as thunder-dark as his gaze. “Not as fascinating as you, Emmalina Crist.” He dips in as if to kiss me again but hovers instead, raking those thunderheads across my face. “I want to know everything about you.”
He speaks with such reverence, I don’t know whether to be swept away or scared shitless. Then there’s the option behind door number three. Total bewilderment.
I funnel all the confusion into a muttered question. “Why?”
He pulls back a little and looks at me with such perplexity of his own, I wonder if he’s having second thoughts about this whole conversation—or whatever the hell this exchange is.
But he’s still serious, even resolute, as he murmurs, “Why is there gravity, Velvet? Why does the sun come up every morning? Why do stars fall and mountains rise?” He pulls himself closer to me. “Some things are just inevitable.” He slides his hips against mine. As he rocks, stroking my clit with the boldness of his cock, I swear his gaze flares with a million points of iridescent light. “Some things are just meant to be.”
Well…hell.
Forget fighting the leap of my pulse. The sprint of my heart. The complete swoon of my better senses, turning my I-am-woman-hear-me-roar into I-a
m-bunny-let-me-melt.
“Meant…to…be.” I push out the words between hoarse, heavy pants. “Like the fact that I need you to fuck me again?”
Chapter Seven
REECE
I grin so wide, it hurts.
Fuck. Everything hurts.
Every drop of power in my dick. Every molecule of air in my chest. Every crazy thought in my head.
It hurts, and I’ve never felt more amazing in my life.
I sure as hell haven’t ever spouted such quixotic bullshit and truly meant it. I’ve never stared at a woman’s face like this and sworn I’d never be tired of the sight. And my cock sure as hell has never demanded a repeat trip to paradise this fast after the first visit.
Most remarkably, my hands have never felt like this before.
Yeah…my hands.
They’ve never ached to hold a woman tighter. Never clenched into fists, fighting back the urge to cradle her face as I kiss her senseless and screw her into nirvana.
And they’ve never glowed brighter.
Ten garish reminders of the freak I really am.
Which is why I reach beneath us, gripping her ass as I lean in close, consuming her vision with nothing but me as I tell her through my teeth, “Close your eyes, beauty.”
The center of Emma’s brow pushes into a perfect little V. “Why?”
My jaw clenches. “Emma—”
“You’re so beautiful.” She delves a hand into my hair. “Let me watch you this time.”
“Close your eyes, Emma.”
I hate that it jolts her. Hate how it paints her face in nervousness, even though she complies. And I hate what it does to her body, tensing her before I can even drag the second condom from my pants.
I want to fascinate her again. Turn her into the mindless she-beast who let me take her in front of the window. Turn her into my partner to the stars.
So once again, I tiptoe into territory I’ve never traversed with a woman before.
Seduction. The real kind. As in, slow and sensual…and verbal.
“That’s good.” Simple, but an effective start. Also the truth, though I know everything I’m about to say is the truth. I’m just not sure how. This isn’t my normal MO. I’ve always been a show-not-tell guy. A master in the art of stringing women along with expensive food, expensive booze, and the belief they’ll somehow get beneath the suave shell I show the rest of the world.