1933563079-Torrid-Hearts-Lucas.doc

by Torrid Hearts (lit)

  He stared intently into her eyes, heart on his sleeve and so very vulnerable, waiting for her to crush his soul, annihilate his spirit—the very thing she feared most. Words echoed from that day that seemed so long ago, yet only a week had passed.

  “Who hurt you?”

  “Everyone.”

  She so didn’t want to be part of that everyone, but she had no idea how not to be.

  “You undo me, angel.”

  Sarah writhed, her hips pressing against his erection. Freeing her hands, she used them in a way she’d been dying to, sliding down his body until she covered his cock, circling him with her fingers and squeezing. He responded by putting his hand over hers, trying to remove it, but she refused, smiling brashly.

  “Uh-uh. Mine.”

  His laugh was hearty and rolled over her in heated waves. Everything the man did was sexy. Her other hand ran over his shoulder, finding a tattoo there, one she’d noticed before, but had been so out of her mind with hunger for him that she hadn’t taken the time to really see it. Now she took the time as she gently slid her one hand up and down his cock, the fingers of her other hand tracing the outline of a second dragon drawn on his shoulder .

  Small and curled into itself, almost innocent looking, it was unlike any dragon she’d ever seen before. Most dragons to her appeared either cutesy for children, or with a ferocity that frightened her in a strange way. The independent mythical creatures had never been known to inspire warm and fuzzy feelings in her. She’d never once imagined a family of dragons, a mama and her babies, it was always a lone male dragon. Angry and fire breathing, but this one seemed almost needy, if that was the right word.

  Whatever the word, it made her want to scoop it off his shoulder and cup it to her breast, swearing to care for it always.

  “My namesake.”

  He uttered, clearly clamping down on what control he had left as she worked his penis from the bottom to the tip then back, giving a squeeze for good measure then starting over again.

  “Drayke—” a sound more animal than human released from his throat. “—when I was eight—” another lusty low moan. “—I discovered, aaahhh, my name meant…” he dropped to one elbow, grabbing her wrist fiercely, belying that fierceness when pulling it away and pressing a kiss solidly into her palm. After a long slow breath, his eyes seemed to focus more and he finished what he’d been trying to say.

  “Drayke, English for dragon. As an eight year old boy I was elated to know my name meant dragon. For a time I insisted everyone call me dragon instead of Drayke, as a teen that was shortened to Drago, and it’s been that ever since.” He looked at his tattoo, running his own fingers first over the dragon, then over her fingers still perched nearby. “I’ve always felt a connection with them.”

  He lay on his side, gently tracing the outline of her face. Sarah could see his heart in his eyes, but still, she hadn’t been prepared for what he would say next.

  “I love you, Sarah. Crazy though it seems, I know this is the real thing. That indefinable thing people search their entire lives for. You are my soul, my heart. Tell me you feel the same. Please, my angel. Tell me.”

  Chapter 10

  His words bruised her heart. He saw the moment it happened and he felt like shit for it. Though she’d probably just been thinking that exact sentiment, she had no way of knowing if he really meant the words or if he simply assumed she longed to hear them. In so many ways they knew nothing about one another. She had no reason to believe him and he’d promised himself he wouldn’t push her. Wouldn’t scare her. Now he knew that’s exactly what he’d just done.

  Her eyes drifted away, back to studying his dragons, the one on his shoulder, his forearm and the lower part of his belly.

  He wanted so badly to show her the painting, to tell her of the legacy of the dragon and the phoenix, but she wasn’t ready and he’d already pushed her too far. So he settled for serving a little torture of his own, quickly taking one of her erect nipples deep into his mouth and sucking hard enough to elicit a strangled cry that caught in her throat. She shoved both her hands into his hair, her nails scraping lightly at his scalp. He quickly released the band that held his hair bound. She did the rest, unwrapping the twisted strands until it was loose, hanging over his shoulder, brushing her other breast as she arched against his mouth.

  That’s my Phoenix.

  His hand dipped into the moistness between her legs, his finger sliding inside yet again.

  “No more, Drago! Fuck me. Now,” she added on a low growl that sent fire to his already painful erection. Fuck, he’d been erect from the second he’d laid eyes on her, exactly two weeks, three days and fourteen hours ago. He smiled wickedly at her passion-drugged expression. Her eyes were so black and hazy with lust she probably couldn’t see clearly.

  He straddled her, then leaned back on his haunches, reaching for the damned protection. He didn’t want protection. He wanted to slide into her wet sheath, nothing between them, but that would have to wait. She grabbed the packet from his fingers, surprising him from his thoughts.

  “Let me.”

  He stared at her for a minute, trying to gauge her emotions. “Do your men frequently require you to don them?”

  “Does it matter?”

  It shouldn’t. He really didn’t want anyone else in this bed but the two of them, but he was rapidly becoming obsessed with being different, not reminding her even subtly of anyone else. He pulled the foil packet back.

  “You’re too accommodating, Sarah.”

  She sat halfway up, braced on her elbows, breasts bobbing with the movement, drawing his eye, causing him nearly to drool at the sight. She put her hand over his, when his gaze traveled upward he caught her waiting for it, a knowing smile playing about her luscious lips. He couldn’t resist. Forcefully, he caught her mouth with his, pressing her down on the bed beneath him.

  He bruised her lips with controlled power, nipping and sucking them into his mouth. Her tongue continually tried to catch his, but he wanted to commit to memory every taste and texture of her sweet mouth. Starting with her lips, he continued until he invaded every dip and surface, loving her mouth, making himself a part of her.

  Sucking her top lip, he ran his tongue underneath, then moved to the lower lip. Meanwhile, she remained passive for a time, letting him take control. He laughed when he realized it was merely because she was studying him, learning his pattern and besting him at it once she had. With his lower lip caught firmly between her dainty white teeth, she mumbled, “Give me tongue or I’ll bite.”

  Drago laughed heartily, then acquiesced in the sweetest surrender of his life as she sucked his tongue into her mouth. She rubbed the bottom of it with hers, suckling gently. The ever-present undertone of mint stinging his tongue, the feel of her wet mouth surrounded him, forcing him to return his attention to his aching groin. Regretfully, he pulled slowly away, grabbing her lower lip as he did and tugging it with him for good measure and reveling one last second in the taste and feel of her.

  He sat back up handing her the condom. “You win, angel. Sheath me.”

  She smiled with one side of her mouth, her eyes sparkling with the heady knowledge of victory and he knew giving her the victory was the sole reason he’d fought her to begin with.

  “With pleasure, my dragon.”

  The word on her lips caused his heart to stall. He watched wordlessly as she opened the packet and rolled the condom over the entire length of him, then smacked her hand as she squeezed again, nearly making him come right then.

  “You’re wicked.”

  She smiled innocently enough. “And just think, you’ll be the beneficiary of all that wickedness…” Her tone darkened. “…if you’ll ever get that thing inside me.”

  With another hearty laugh he gave her exactly what she’d been asking for. One slick plunge and he was deeply imbedded in her. She gasped, head falling back on the mattress, eyes half closed. He took the opportunity to run both hands from her shoulders over her breasts,
down her sides to her curvy hips and pulled her more firmly onto himself.

  At first he held still, gathering his control, easing away from the precipice and enjoying the feel of her. As he began moving slowly, he focused on her inner muscles tightening around him, grasping him as he tried to slip out, releasing him, bidding him welcome as he moved back in, but soon the feelings got to be too strong, the need to pummel her until his cum rushed forth, too much to ignore.

  She writhed and bucked beneath him. Her hand playing with her clit made him realize the motion of him inside her alone wouldn’t be enough to make her come and he determined to find out if she’d ever come with a man inside her before. In the meantime, he watched—watched those delicate hands work the most feminine part of her body, wishing suddenly for an abnormally long tongue. She moaned, her other hand clasping her breast, pinching her rosy nipple, her inner muscles clamping down on him in pre-come spasms.

  He kicked up his tempo a notch, grabbing her hips and slamming her body against his again and again and watching her as she came. Her climax hadn’t been nearly as intense as earlier and his creative brain already started working solutions to that. At the same time letting her muscles gripping him for dear life have their way and brought him to the most powerful orgasm of his life.

  The feelings were so strong that he was barely able to stay perched atop her, and as he felt her orgasm wane, he devilishly reached for her, rubbing her clit twice, sending her right back over and not missing her crying out his name, her voice thick with passion. The remnants of her second orgasm squeezed every last drop of cum from him and he finally collapsed, half on top of her, sure he’d never be able to have sex again. There was no way anyone would ever recover from something like that.

  Her stalled breathing alerted him to the fact he was crushing her and he attempted to roll off only to have her grab his arms. Tears rimming her eyes she breathed, “Stay. Please.” He adjusted himself so he would support most of his own weight and pulled her body into the safety of his embrace.

  There they lay, him still inside her, her curled into him, purring against his throat like a satisfied kitten, and everything right with the world. Drago was determined to make this last forever, whether Sarah liked it or not.

  * * * *

  Her dragon slept.

  She let a small smile wash over her as she stood beside the bed, wrapped in nothing but his robe, watching him sleep. She didn’t resist the urge to touch him. Tenderly she ran her hand through his hair and along his stubbled jaw. He stirred marginally, then settled down again with a contented murmur.

  A part of her wanted to lay beside him, snuggle in close and sleep, but she couldn’t. Sleeping with a man made her antsy. She’d dozed for a few minutes after each time he’d loved her through the night, but to actually sleep, well that was a different matter entirely. Sarah knew she wasn’t capable of it.

  She gave him a sad smile and left him to his slumber, stealing away quietly with thoughts of food filling her mind. On her way to the stairs, curiosity assaulted her. It was the first time she’d been allowed up here and she wanted to explore. Besides his room and the attached sitting room, she knew he had an office of sorts up here and another music room, but the growling in her stomach along with slightly aching muscles overrode her curiosity and she made her way to the kitchen.

  She was halfway down the hall connecting to the kitchen when a wide-eyed Connie met her, arms full of laundry. Shit. She’d forgotten about Connie or she would have dressed before scrounging. She gave Connie one of her best smiles, but the older woman saw straight through it, eyes sparkling with mischief and delight as she matter-of-factly stated, “So, he’s finally stopped ignoring you.”

  Sarah blushed heating her cheeks. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so embarrassed. She gave a shy, lopsided smile and queried, “Would you believe me if I told you I’d borrowed it out of the laundry?” She splayed the ends of Drago’s robe, baring more skin than she’d meant to and quickly dropped it while rolling her eyes heavenward.

  Connie only smiled—beamed, actually—then placed the laundry on a side table and linked her arm in Sarah’s.

  “Come on, we’ll get breakfast. Is he sleeping?”

  Sarah’s mm-hmm was more of a moan than an answer and had Connie laughing good-naturedly at her.

  The kitchen was the stuff dreams were made of, at least Sarah’s dreams. She’d always loved to cook, as long as she could remember, and felt so fortunate of late to have people to cook for in Lacey and Belle, but this kitchen was wild. It wasn’t that it was overly large, it was just decked out with all the fineries any cook could want, from electric mixers to that grill she’d been dying to get her hands on.

  White cabinets with black counters and pale yellow walls with a border of… Sarah squinted at the border, realizing she’d never looked closely at it in the entire week she’d been there. She’d been too busy lusting after Drago and his grill, she supposed, but the border was made of…laughing monkeys?

  “I’ve never…” She shot an astonished look at Connie. “Did Drago choose that?”

  Connie shrugged. “He has a whimsical side.” She went to the fridge, starting to pull ingredients. “Are you a protein or carb girl?”

  “Oh eggs, please.”

  She didn’t often have breakfast and when she did it was usually just Lacey’s leftovers. Suddenly a plate of eggs sounded like heaven.

  “A girl after my own heart. Coffee?” Sarah shook her head as Connie placed a carton of eggs and a basket of vegetables on the island. “I’d have cooked for you in the mornings if I’d known what you liked, but I never saw either of you.”

  Sarah spent a couple of minutes just running her hand over things, from the granite counters to the wall of cookbooks. Slightly lost in her own world, she managed to answer, anyway.

  “It’s fine. I don’t usually eat. He has an amazing collection. Half of these aren’t even in English.”

  She pulled one of the texts from the shelf, carefully opening the pages of what was obviously a very old book written in Italian. And it was hand-written, not printed. It looked as if it were an old family heirloom. “Is this family?”

  As the sound of sizzling eggs filled the kitchen Connie answered casually, “No, I think he got that at an auction somewhere.” She shrugged. “He collects things. I think the cookbooks remind him of his mother.”

  Sarah put the book back, all her thoughts now wrapped in Connie’s statement. She knew it was none of her business, but as she took a seat at the island counter she couldn’t help herself, “Is his mother dead?”

  Connie set a plate of fruit slices on the counter then an omelet stuffed so full with vegetables it barely folded over.

  “No. Not dead.” Connie put another plate on the island for herself and took a seat across from Sarah. “They’re just not close.”

  Sarah took her first bite of omelet, the fluffy concoction so good she nearly forgot what they were talking about. Another two bites later and a swig of juice and she resumed the conversation.

  “But he wants to be?”

  Connie looked contemplative for a few minutes, then went to studying her omelet. Sarah figured she’d overstepped, which was so like her that she didn’t worry overmuch about it. It wasn’t any of her business, anyway, but the thought of Drago Castenoff with a mother was almost like the thought of one of those dragons with one. She smiled, realizing he was right to feel so akin to them.

  “She left when Drago was five. They didn’t see one another until he was grown. She had another family by then. Happy, I think, but yes, I think Drago wishes they could be closer.”

  “She left him?” Sarah’s voice held sock, but she wasn’t sure why, hadn’t she met enough kids whose parents had abandoned them? Mothers left. Fathers left. She guessed it didn’t matter if you were living in some upscale neighborhood or a trailer in the desert. No matter how she looked at it, this conversation was getting entirely too personal and she had no business knowing a
nything about the man she’d just slept with. Unless he wanted to tell her, and even then, she really didn’t want to grow more attached.

  If she could manage to compartmentalize him more, think of Drago as no more than a man with an abnormally voracious sex drive, then when she left, it wouldn’t be so hard.

  “She wasn’t given a choice.”

  Sarah shook her head, so lost in her own thoughts she wasn’t sure if she’d missed something or if that was the gist of it. She smiled tightly, taking her last bite of egg then wiping her mouth and fingers with a linen napkin.

  “It’s really not my business. I have an absurdly curious nature. Nosy, I suppose, but I prefer to call it curious. I’m sorry if I put you in an awkward position.”

  Connie reached across the counter, placing a hand atop Sarah’s.

  “He’s never brought a woman here.”

  Sarah’s stomach twisted into knots and she pulled her hand back.

  “It’s just a fling, Connie.”

  She took a slow deep breath. Connie was a nice woman, but Sarah was beginning to fear she was perhaps a bit of a matchmaking romantic and that would complicate things beyond recognition.

  “Regardless, you’re good for him. You keep him on his toes.” She got up and took their plates, rinsing and putting them in the dishwasher. “I’ve never seen him so edgy around a woman before.” She laughed. “It’s about time he found a woman whose clothes didn’t fall off at the raise of one of those brows of his.”

  Sarah nearly choked on her juice. If Connie only knew. She calculated that, then bluntly stated, “Actually, I was naked when we met, so I’m not sure I count.”

  If Connie was shocked by that information, she didn’t show it. Instead, she disappeared into the pantry, returning a moment later with an arm full of ingredients. Sarah leapt from her chair to help.

  “I’ll make him a tray. You can take it up to him?”