Chosen: Part Six (Allure Book 6)

by Josie Litton

  I still found it paradoxical, even shocking, that the man who had taken me captive had also freed me to discover the person I really was. But I had stopped questioning that, along with so much else. For the moment, I would live in the moment. And afterward? I’d face that when I had to.

  His mouth brushed over mine, his lips firm but unexpectedly gentle, savoring me. The hot, slick slide of his tongue matched the thrust of his finger, first one, then two, filling and stretching me as his thumb flicked over my clit.

  Round and round, harder and softer, faster, slower, then--just right. He knew my body so well, knew exactly how to touch me, how susceptible I was…

  I gasped as, with stunning speed, I felt the onrush of orgasm so long anticipated and denied. Until…now!

  “That’s it,” he murmured as the first deep, hard contraction hit me. “Beautiful girl, so strong, so sweet. Come for me.”

  Caught between the wall and his rock hard body, I hung suspended, helpless to stop the savage need coursing through me. His touch…the words he spoke…the taste and scent of him…

  Oh, God!

  Desperately, I sucked on the hard spear of his tongue, drawing him deeper into me. My body spasmed helplessly. Wave after wave of coiling tension pushed me to dizzying heights. Blackness danced at the edge of my consciousness. My legs gave way; I would have fallen if he hadn’t held me upright.

  Vaguely, I was aware when he yanked my skirt off and tossed it away. I was naked except for strappy sandals when he led me to a large leather armchair near the bed. After assuring that I could stand on my own, he released me and sat down. At his ease, his long legs stretched out before him, he looked every inch the young, powerful king on his throne.

  Raking his eyes over my rosy naked self, he smiled. I could only imagine the picture I made, my nipples pebble hard, my breathing ragged, and between my legs, the glistening evidence of my arousal.

  As I stared back at him, unable even to blink, his hand went to the zipper of his jeans and eased it down.

  “I’m all yours, sweetheart,” he said as he freed his cock, fisting the long, hard length of it.

  Without hesitation, I climbed into his lap, straddling him. Rough denim rubbed against my bare thighs and swollen pussy. The friction made me all too aware that my need for him remained as strong as ever. Holding onto the his powerful biceps, I arched my back and moaned.

  He breathed in deeply, inhaling my scent, claiming it just as he claimed all the rest of me. His pupils dilated. I saw the reflection of candle flames leaping in them.

  “Take me,” he said thickly. “I want to watch you come on my cock.”

  Holding his eyes with mine, I rose above him, my hand replacing his. Breathless, I rubbed the swollen, plum-hued crest against my slit. Pleasure resonated deep inside me.

  His heavy lids drooped for a moment before flashing open again. Exhaling, he said, “More…take all of me.”

  Soft and pliant though I was after the orgasm I had just experienced, I still had to stretch to accept him. A gasp escaped me when he was fully seated, the thick, hot crest of his cock pressing against my cervix.

  Shifting my hands to grip the arms of the chair, I began to raise and lower myself slowly along every scorching hot inch of him.

  “Like this?” I murmured, trembling with a heady mixture of excitement and desire. The sensation of being filled by him hovered on the edge of pain without ever tipping over into it, at least not yet. I’d be tender tomorrow but I couldn’t care.

  “Exactly like that,” he said. His head fell back, the pulse in his powerful throat throbbing.

  “Faster?” I asked.

  “Whatever you need,” he gritted.

  Oh, my. The amazing man and his remarkable cock, all mine to use as I pleased? How could I ask for anything more?

  When I was a little girl, I’d learned to ride a horse. This was totally different. For one thing, I really, truly enjoyed it. Rather than being scared, I was thrilled. And emboldened as in stripped of all inhibitions and let loose to indulge my most carnal fantasies.

  Some of them, at least.

  Naked--except for the shoes--I bit down on my lower lip as I moved, savoring every slick, hard inch of him. Over and over, faster, a little slower, faster again… The world blurred, falling away around us. We were an island--Adam, me, and the leather chair--adrift in a sea of carnal pleasure.

  With each downward thrust, my clit rubbed against the base of his shaft and the silky roughness of his pubic hair. As enticing as the sensation was, it was far surpassed by the hard rub of his cock against that very special spot deep inside me. Again and again…higher and higher until I heard myself keening in the run up to an orgasm that promised to dwarf everything that had come before.

  Just when I hit the edge and began to tumble over, Adam wrapped an arm around my waist and yanked me against him. His mouth closed on my nipple, suckling me hard.

  That was all it took. I cried out hoarsely and broke apart, shattering under the force of release that went on and on, wave after wave, until finally I felt the scalding heat of his come jetting into me. Convulsions still racked me long moments later when I collapsed against him, mewling faintly. I was shaking from head to toe as he stood with me in his arms and carried me to the bed.

  Distantly, I was aware of him leaving me for a moment but only long enough to strip off what was left of his clothes. Before I could more than begin to miss him, he was back, drawing me hard against him, his arm around me, a powerful leg thrown over mine.

  At once protecting and claiming me. I fell asleep to the thought that I was truly, completely his. Now more than ever.

  Chapter Twelve

  I woke to strong, firm hands trailing along my naked back, kneading the discomfort from muscles that were deliciously sore. The pressure was so perfect that I couldn’t hold back a loud groan.

  “So good,” I sighed. It was all I could manage with my mind as limp as my body. How could I be otherwise after the night of debauchery that Adam and I had shared? We had both been insatiable, unable to keep our hands from each other…or our mouths, tongues, any part of us…

  My smile felt wicked. I loved how wanton he made me, how shameless and I loved--

  Abruptly, my mind skidded to a halt. Passionate, romantic love, the kind that entwined lives and built futures together was a complete mystery to me. Perhaps Todd and his wife, Clara shared that; I hoped so. But I’d never spent enough time with them to witness it. Certainly, I’d never seen anything remotely like that between my own parents.

  I had to be out of my mind to even be thinking about it, especially in regard to a man with whom I had such a dark history. Not because I didn’t believe that Adam could be capable of any such emotion; on the contrary, I suspected that his fierce loyalty and protectiveness meant that he was. It was me, the woman who found such dark pleasure in my captor’s arms. What could I ever know about love?

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  When I didn’t answer his hands slid under my hips. In an instant, I was turned onto my back, facing him. He rose above me, a suddenly stern and formidable presence who would not be denied.

  “Grace?”

  His tone commanded as much as inquired. I scrambled quickly to deflect him. My feelings were my own, all the more so because of how confused they made me.

  “Do you know what I’d really like?” I asked, finding a smile.

  His own was pure, wicked invitation. “Why don’t you tell me?”

  “A shower…long, hot, soapy--” A shiver rippled through me as I considered the possibilities. “And not alone.”

  I got my wish. Adam insisted on carrying me into the bathroom. It was simple and rustic compared to those in his other residences but still luxurious by any standard. He set me on my feet but kept an arm around me as he turned on the water.

  “I can’t get enough of you,” he said, the confession spilling from him. He stood tall and proud, the sunlight caressing his nakedness. I couldn’t take my eyes f
rom him even as his words sank deep into me.

  “All my life, I’ve understood the need for control but with you I can’t even remember what that feels like. I lose myself in you.” He frowned. “That should be terrifying. But instead it just feels right.”

  My throat tightened. With difficulty, I said, “You aren’t alone, Adam. With you, everything is different--sharper, clearer, better.” I smiled because the joy bubbling up in me couldn’t be repressed. “I can’t explain it and I’ve stopped even trying to. Both our lives hold so many challenges. Let’s just be glad of this moment and make the most of it, all right?”

  His frown deepened and I knew he wanted to ask what challenges I was confronting. I wasn’t ready for that conversation, not yet. A step closer to him, the stroke of my hand down the thickening trail of hair from his naval to his groin, the quick shudder that rippled through him and I knew that I had postponed it again, at least for the moment.

  Under the rush of steaming water, the lascivious words I had spoken hours before became real. On my knees, slick and wet, I satisfied my need to lick and suck him, reveling in his groans and the power of his hands clasping my head, moving me to his rhythm until I took over and moved him to mine. He cried out my name as he came, jetting down my throat. I had developed an insatiable taste for the hot, salty essence of him. Already I suspected that I would never be able to get enough of it.

  After that, the very late brunch we shared was a bit of an anti-climax.

  We ate on the stone terrace overlooking the pool. A flock of pink flamingoes passed overhead. I watched them go, wondering if they were setting off on their winter migration south. However much I wished otherwise, the relentless passage of time couldn’t be denied.

  “Tell me what’s troubling you,” Adam said softly.

  I sighed. A normal man would have been sated and content. Not him. He was remorseless, demanding, and far too clever for me to even try to deceive. At least I knew better than to try.

  I took one more sip of my pear mimosa and set my glass down. Quietly, I said, “I’ve wanted to tell you for a while but what with one thing and another--”

  “Tell me now.”

  A sense of inevitability shattered the last of my hesitation. Better to get this over with finally. “I have to go back to New York. I can’t delay any longer. Too much is at stake.”

  Adam leaned back in his chair and surveyed me across the width of the small table. His expression would have been unreadable if not for the warmth of his gaze. It soothed me as nothing else could.

  “What’s so important there?” he asked.

  I dragged in air, remembering: The house in the Hamptons hard by the beach…late at night…the sound of the surf pounding against the nearby shore…goosebumps from the chill on my legs and arms as I walked around the curve of the terrace…my eyes burning with the lack of sleep, born of grief and the sickening sense that there was something monstrous only waiting to be discovered…

  Voices.

  “It had to be done,” my father said. “The boy had become too great a risk.”

  “I agree,” Patrick’s father replied. “Still, his mother is…affected.”

  “You have other children. She’ll recover.”

  “Perhaps. At any rate, as you say, Patrick was a liability. At the very least, he violated our trust. You were right to insist that we dispose of him.”

  Bile rose in my throat. I swallowed hastily.

  “Grace?” Adam’s hand reached across the table, closing around mine. I clung to his strength and warmth as the tendrils of memory swirled around me, threatening to drag me under.

  “They killed him,” I gasped. “My father and uncle, they arranged my cousin Patrick’s death. He wasn’t mentally disturbed and he didn’t die of a drug overdose, at least not one that he took voluntarily. They disposed of him because he had become a threat to the family.”

  The moment the words were out, I was horrified. I hadn’t meant to blurt out the truth like that. I’d thought to explain calmly what I intended to do and why. I’d even rehearsed what I’d say to convince Adam that the situation needed to be handled quietly and carefully so as to avoid arousing any suspicion on the part of Grandmother or other members of the family. Until I had the evidence of what they had been doing, everything had to appear as normal as possible.

  What was it about this man that tore the truth from me? Even against my better judgement?

  “How do you know this?” Adam asked. He appeared calm but I wasn’t fooled. I could only imagine what he thought of this yet-further proof of my family’s depravity.

  A pall of weariness crept over me. I was so tired of fighting what could not be resisted. They were who they were and I was part of them, however desperately I wished otherwise. Adam would make of that whatever he would. I had no choice but to live with the consequences. In some ways, I was stronger now than I had ever been, because of him. But I was also smart enough to understand that I had to conserve my strength for the battle ahead, one that I would either find a way to win or be destroyed by.

  Faintly, I said, “Earlier this year, I was at my parents’ home in the Hamptons. When I couldn’t sleep, I went for a walk. It was late, the French doors to my father’s office were ajar. I overheard him talking with my uncle about what they had done.”

  “So you knew months ago and you’re just telling me this now?” Steel rang in his voice, taking me back for a moment to the field on Malta and the bloody clash between honor and death. The sound seemed to echo down through the centuries, calling to me in a way that could not be denied. I was a woman of the twenty-first century and I was not. Deep inside me, primal forces stirred, awakened by the man who had chosen me for his own purposes and who had killed to protect me.

  I swallowed hastily, aware suddenly that I was trembling. That wouldn’t do. I was braver than that, better. I had to be for my own sake as well as Adam’s.

  Quietly, I said, “I didn’t want to believe it. I knew that my family…did things but not that. Not Patrick. He was such a good, decent person.”

  I broke off, fighting against the force of my grief for the boy I had known, the man he would have been, the future that should have been his. Adam waited, a silent but implacable presence, until I was able to go on.

  “Then you came,” I said, “and I found out about Uncle Ned.”

  Along with so much else about myself and about Adam himself. A world of revelation unfolding in a few scant weeks, never again to be put back the way it had been. There was only one way for me to go--forward. However terrifying that was.

  “After that, I had to accept that what I’d overheard was true. But I still couldn’t make any sense of it. I kept asking myself what Patrick could possibly have done to make even his own father willing to sacrifice him.”

  “You’ve learned the answer to that?”

  I nodded. “Will Foster was the key. I don’t know if you remember him…?”

  A look flitted across Adam’s face that I couldn’t quite decipher. With a hint of disdain, he said, “Your escort the night we met.” Fairly or not, the man who was a warrior and leader dismissed the man who was not. Whatever Will’s feelings for me, he could never stand against Adam and we both knew it.

  “Patrick was working at the family foundation last year,” I said. “While he was there, he discovered that the most corrupt, repressive governments and individuals are funneling money to the family in return for political favors.”

  A furl appeared between darkly winged brows. “He told Foster this?”

  “Not directly, although he must have hinted at it because Will thought that something was wrong. Just before you and I left for Switzerland, my brother, Todd slipped up and revealed what Patrick believed he had found. Now Will is trying to convince himself that it can’t be true but he’s scared out of his wits and for good reason.”

  My voice caught. I hoped that I wasn’t a coward but I didn’t want to find out for sure. Fear coiled deep inside me. “He thinks we’re
all going to end up the way Patrick did, dead under a bridge, if we dare to go against the family.”

  I blinked suddenly. Something was stirring behind Adam’s eyes. A dark, dangerous presence. It occurred to me that I had just glimpsed the monster he believed was inside him. A strange kind of monster to be sure, one capable of making me feel safer.

  Quietly, he asked, “That doesn’t deter you?”

  The consequences of going up against my family were bone chilling but I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t act. “Patrick deserves justice, whatever it takes to get that for him.”

  “You have a plan?” he asked.

  The question, asked so matter-of-factly, surprised me. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad after all. I’d delayed telling him out of a combination of shame and feat of what his reaction might be. But he was being entirely calm and reasonable.

  I nodded. “Grandmother has wanted me to work for the foundation for years. I’ve managed to avoid it but when I get back to New York I’m going to tell her that I’ve changed my mind. Once I’m in, I’ll try to find out what Patrick discovered. Get the evidence…”

  My voice trailed off. Adam’s features had hardened, his gaze glittering with icy fire. Everything about him said, No. Emphatically, no room for argument, the verdict of a man accustomed to absolute obedience.

  Butterflies took flight in my stomach. I ignored them, tilted my chin up, and stared right back at him. Silently, I willed him to remember that what I was doing was nothing new. From the very beginning, I had defied him. If he was truly the man I thought he was, he had learned to deal with that.