Vows In Name Only (Mills & Boon Desire) (Billionaires of Boston, Book 1)

by Naima Simone

  “Nothing,” he growled, his fingers tunneling under the loose knot at the back of her head, tugging on the strands and freeing them. “Everything,” he hissed, tone rougher...angrier.

  With her or himself? She couldn’t tell. And in that second, with his blunt fingertips dragging down her scalp and pleasure sucking her into its depths, she didn’t care. Just as long as he didn’t let her surface.

  “And what are you willing to give me, Devon?” he challenged, trailing a caress from the dip in her collarbone, up the front of her throat, over her chin and to her lips. Leaving fire in its wake. His other hand, twisted in her hair, drew her head back farther, arching her neck tighter as he traced the outline of her mouth. As his finger breached her, sliding over her tongue and then withdrawing to paint her trembling flesh with her own moisture.

  “What I can afford to,” she whispered, the answer containing a raw honesty she hadn’t meant to reveal.

  But from the heat blazing in his eyes like a strike of lightning, he coveted it.

  “I’ll take it,” he said then crushed his mouth to hers.

  On a ragged moan, she opened for him, welcomed the demanding thrust of his tongue. Eagerly, she returned the hard, rough sucking. He came at her like a starving man and she was his only sustenance. Not gentle, no manners. Just ravenous and desperate. Wild.

  She tore away, gulping in a breath, but he didn’t allow it. He followed her, his lips covering hers again, almost bruising in their greed. The hand not gripping her hair lowered to her neck, circling the front and mimicking the caress from the library. And just like then, lust flared hotter, brighter. Her nipples beaded under her dress, and she cupped her breasts, squeezed, attempting to alleviate the ache.

  “Dammit, that’s pretty,” Cain praised, lifting his head and staring down at her kneading hands. He palmed her arms and guided her to her feet. Instinctively, Devon grasped for his shoulders, but he cuffed her wrists and returned her hands to her chest. “Don’t stop,” he ordered, waiting until she resumed her self-ministrations before freeing his grip.

  His searing gaze only ratcheted up the clawing need raging through her, not easing it. Whimpering, she rubbed her thumbs over the distended tips, barely aware of him removing her shoes and tugging down her zipper. Air kissed the skin of her back, and she gasped. He drew the sleeves down her arms, her bra swiftly following, and seconds later, she stood half-naked in front of him.

  It occurred to her that she should feel some embarrassment being so bared and vulnerable. Especially when her figure resembled nothing close to those of the women she’d seen him with. But, as he stared down at her breasts, the pure lust in those blue-gray eyes banished any doubts or insecurities that would’ve crept in.

  He wanted her.

  No matter what had brought them together. No matter how much he might resent this and her later... He wanted her.

  And for now, it was enough. Had to be.

  For both of them.

  “So beautiful,” he murmured, stroking up her waist and pausing just under her breasts. Leaning forward, he brushed his lips over her jaw, sweeping another caress just under her ear. “Tell me to touch you, sweetheart. Tell me to give us both what we need.”

  “Touch me,” she whispered. No hesitation. No reservation. “Give us both what we need. And don’t hold back.”

  If tonight was going to be all they had before returning to opposing sides, then she wanted no regrets.

  She wanted the everything he’d promised her.

  A growl rolled out of him, and his hands rose, claiming her breasts. “I was right.” He squeezed her flesh, plumping it, molding it to his palms. Biting her bottom lip to hold back the tiny scream scaling her throat, she settled for sinking her nails into his forearms. And holding on. His gaze lifted from her nipples to her mouth, and then higher to meet her eyes. “You more than fill my hands. I can’t number how many times I’ve woken up, my fist around my dick, picturing it. Wondering if my imagination neared reality. It didn’t. Reality is so much better.”

  Before the shock that he dreamed about her could ebb, his mouth was on her. Tugging, sucking deep, swirling, giving her the barest graze of his teeth. She clutched him—clawed at him—her head thrown back as every swipe of his tongue, every pull on the beaded, overly sensitive tip, echoed in her sex.

  This had always been pleasurable in the past, but God... He shoved her toward the precarious edge of orgasm, and until this moment, she hadn’t known it was possible to come from a man’s mouth on her breasts.

  No, not a man.

  Cain.

  His ravenous mouth shifted, and cool air teased her wet flesh as he engulfed the other aching peak. Whimper after whimper escaped her, and she arched higher, harder into him, granting him access to all of her. Wordlessly begging him to take more, give her more.

  And he did.

  Just as she demanded, he didn’t hold back, and the first tight contraction in her sex took her by surprise. She gasped, then cried out, her thighs tightening, hips jerking as pleasure swelled and cracked.

  Harsh puffs of air wheezed out of her lungs, and she shook not just with the orgasm that gripped her, but with shock. That had never happened to her. And before she could tamp it down, a thread of despair wormed its way into her head. Sex wouldn’t be the same after this. Already he’d redefined the experience, exposing her to things about herself, her body that she hadn’t understood. Now Cain would be the yardstick by which she measured every person after him.

  And she suspected—feared—no one would measure up.

  His rough chuckle tickled her skin as he lifted his head, lips slightly reddened and damp. Lust blazed in his bright eyes. Lust and a glowing satisfaction. “You need another one, don’t you, sweetheart?” he damn near purred, his thumbs still whisking back and forth over her nipples, making her shift and twist underneath his tormenting hands. “That just took the edge off.”

  Helplessly, she nodded. Because, dammit, she still hurt.

  He pressed a hard, but thoroughly erotic kiss to her mouth, his tongue diving deep and rubbing against hers, obliterating all thought except for the hunger he ignited within her. Each parry and thrust was an explicit promise of what he still had in store for her. She opened wider for him and slid her hands through his hair. Gripping them, she guided his head, tilting it, so she could do her fair share of conquering. His dark groan telegraphed his approval.

  One moment, she stood there, devouring his mouth, and in the next, the world upended as Cain wrapped his arms around her, hauled her off her feet and bore her to the thickly carpeted floor. By the time she regained her breath, he’d tugged the dress gathered at her waist down her legs. Black lace panties quickly followed. Only the flames and his searing hot gaze licked over her skin, heating her.

  She shivered, and a belated bout of modesty materialized. One hand fluttered restlessly over her chest—which made zero sense considering he’d just had his lips and tongue there—and the other settled on her rounded belly, inching toward the soaked, swollen flesh between her thighs. She was so exposed. So naked. So vulnerable. Emphasized even more by the suit he still wore. He’d shed her of her armor, put every imperfection and insecurity of hers on display. But he remained as guarded, as safe as ever.

  She didn’t like it.

  “Take it off,” she croaked.

  She hadn’t planned on issuing that order, and from the stillness of his big frame, he hadn’t expected it either. Maybe he didn’t appreciate it, if the narrowing of his eyes provided any indication. But she didn’t rescind the demand. They needed to be on equal footing tonight. It was all she would accept.

  “The suit,” she clarified. “Take it off.”

  He didn’t move, and for an instant, panic bubbled within her chest. Had she gone too far? Would he walk away? A man so used to power and being in charge probably didn’t take kindly to another person attempting
to wrestle control from him. Well, it would hurt, but if he chose to leave, then he did. Tonight was about what they both needed, not just what he needed.

  But her worries dissipated as he wrenched his tie from side to side, loosening the knot. The material fluttered to the floor. And his jacket, shirt, socks and shoes followed. At the sight of his wide, powerful chest and shoulders, and his ruthlessly toned arms, she swallowed past a constricted throat. Constricted with the rawest, most primitive need that had ever gripped her.

  He was...perfect.

  From the jut of his collarbone, to the dusting of dark hair over his pectorals, to the intriguing, dusky dip of his navel, on to the silky line bisecting his corrugated abs that disappeared under the band of his pants.

  Sculpted art. Battle-ready warrior.

  And for tonight, mine.

  Oh, she should be terrified at how that one word resonated inside her. Instead, her fingertips itched to trace every beautiful inch of him.

  But his hooded stare pinned her in place as his hands fell to the top of his pants. Without removing his gaze from her, he unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, then shoved them down his muscular thighs. She had just enough time to soak in his beauty clothed only in tight black boxer briefs when he pushed those down, too.

  And oh my God...

  Had she thought him stunning before? She’d been mistaken.

  Stripped of the layers of civility, the true primal, beautiful animal was revealed. If anything, the cloak of his suits muted the power so evident in his big, naked body. She stared. Couldn’t help it. Even that part of him—almost brutish with its wide, flared cap and thick, veined column—was gorgeous. And her mouth watered for a taste. To see if the virility that emanated from him possessed a particular flavor...

  She didn’t realize she’d shifted to her elbows, prepared to discover the truth for herself, until he knelt between her legs and pressed a palm to her shoulder, gently lowering her back down. A graze of lips over her neck, a kiss to each nipple, a nip of her stomach, a lick of her hip bone... Alarm scaled in her chest as understanding struck her. Belatedly, she scrabbled for his shoulders, but he moved out of her reach.

  In her experience, oral sex seemed a chore for men. And in return, it’d never been that much of a pleasurable act because their impatience hindered her from truly enjoying it. The thought of disappointing Cain with her lack of reaction sent a trill of panic through her. Why couldn’t they just get to the main event? Him inside her—

  Oh...

  Cain dragged a long, luxurious lick up the center of her, circling the pulsing nub cresting the top of her sex. Pleasure bolted through her and her hips punched upward, meeting his tongue and lips. A groan ripped free from her, and a full-body shudder worked its way over her.

  “God, you taste good,” Cain muttered, delivering another hot suck. Another flick. “The only thing I wanted more than this was to be buried so fucking deep inside you. And breathing. Maybe. If I could have this every day—” another soft and brutal lick “—breathing might be optional.”

  His words whirled in her head, echoed in her chest even as Cain’s mouth yanked her under his erotic spell. She tunneled her fingers in his hair, gripping the strands as he feasted on her. His hum vibrated against her flesh, and it hit her that he was enjoying it. Enjoying her.

  He claimed every inch of her with his greedy strokes, licks and swirls. She lost herself in the dark pool of ecstasy, willingly going under with each nibble and lap.

  “Cain,” she rasped. Hell, pleaded.

  In reply, he drew her into his mouth, sucked hard and thrust a finger inside her.

  She flew.

  She seized, the rapture tearing at her, splintering her. The piercing sound of her cry reverberated in the room, and she couldn’t be embarrassed about it. Not when pleasure unlike any she’d known arced through her in jagged waves. She could barely breathe past it, her frame trembling as it ebbed.

  Lethargy soaked into her muscles, but then the sight of Cain snatching his jacket close, retrieving his billfold from the inside pocket and removing a small foil packet ignited the simmering heat in her veins, in her flesh.

  He stared down at her, bright eyes an almost unholy glow, skin pulled taut over his cheekbones, his glistening mouth hard. With deft movements, he sheathed himself and she lifted her arms, reaching for him. Inviting him. Welcoming him.

  His hands flattened on either side of her hips, and he crawled over her, not stopping until his mouth hovered above hers. And when he crashed his lips to hers, his tongue sliding over hers, dueling, making her taste herself on him, she didn’t resist. No, she took, took, took.

  “Ask me to come in,” he growled against her.

  She circled her arms around his neck and rolled her desperate, throbbing sex over him. “Please,” she whimpered, nipping his chin, his bottom lip and kissing the sting from both of them. “Come inside me. Make the emptiness go away.”

  No sooner did the plea escape her, than he plunged. Stretching her. Filling her.

  Branding her.

  Nothing could’ve prepared her for him. For the strength of him. The power of him. Of this sense of completion.

  “Breathe, sweetheart,” he grated in her ear. And on a gust, she released the breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding, her pulse thumping in her ears. “You okay?” He brushed a kiss over her brow, the bridge of her nose and finally, her mouth. “I won’t move until you tell me to.”

  She shifted beneath him, and oh God. “Move,” she gasped. Winding her legs around his waist, she undulated beneath him, and another cry broke free. “Move now.”

  He didn’t ask her if she was sure, just took her at her word. Like the reins tethering his control had snapped, he withdrew from her until only the tip stretched her opening. Then buried himself inside her, propelling a scream from her lungs.

  “So good,” she breathed. “Too good.”

  “Never,” he grunted, his hips grinding against hers, directly over the bundle of nerves where pleasure coiled and pulsed. “It’s never too good.”

  Curling a hand behind her neck, he crushed his mouth to hers, taking her lips even as his steel-hard flesh took her body. He drove into her, riding her, molding her to him so that she fit only him. Craved only him. As she arched beneath him, writhing and bucking, she knew, knew, that he’d ruined her for anyone else. No one had ever made her feel as if she were dying and being reborn at the same time.

  She dug her fingernails into his taut shoulders, moaning into his mouth. He swallowed the sound and gave her back his own in return. There wasn’t any way she could survive this. Not intact. But as he powered into her, hooking a hand under her knee and pushing her leg toward her chest so he could bury himself deeper, she couldn’t care.

  “Cain.” She jerked her head back, pressed it against the floor. “Please.”

  “Look at me,” he growled, pinching her chin and tugging her back down to meet his lust-brightened eyes. “Look at me and let go.”

  With his dark command and a grind of the base of his cock over her sex, she did. She let go and shattered. Just fragmented into so many pieces it should’ve scared her. But she felt only the purity of pleasure...and freedom.

  She fell into the abyss, and as Cain stiffened and thrust in broken, desperate strokes, she knew neither one of them would be alone.

  At least not for tonight.

  Twelve

  Cain studied the road before him, the white dotted lines blurring under his focus. At one o’clock in the morning, Boston might not have been asleep but little traffic cluttered the streets from Beacon Hill to Back Bay. The drive should take only ten minutes. But with the woman sitting silently beside him in the car and the tension thick, the trip stretched for much longer.

  He couldn’t decide if he longed for this drive to be over, or to prolong it until he could empty himself of the confusion, re
morse, guilt—and need—stretching him so thin one move might snap him in two.

  Goddammit, he should’ve never touched her.

  Never put his mouth on her.

  Never slid deep into a body so soft and tight he’d been both embraced and strangled. Been caressed and bruised. Been drained dry and strengthened.

  Devon had fucked not only his body but his mind. She’d left him trembling like a damn colt on unfamiliar legs. And yet, as he’d eased out of her, regretting the loss of her snug, quivering sex, he’d been...alive. For the first time in, God, so many years. Blood had sung through his veins as if he’d just returned from battle. He’d been euphoric and yes, at peace.

  He’d had sex before. And it’d been pleasurable, fun, even dirty at times. But never had it humbled him. Invigorated him. Twisted him in so many knots he resembled a snarled ball of yarn.

  Never had it begun with a hug that nearly broke him so every secret, every fear and longing poured out of the cracks.

  But then, he’d never had sex with Devon Cole before.

  It couldn’t happen again.

  Touching the curves that had been driving him crazy from their first meeting and mapping their sweetness with his hands and mouth had been a beautiful mistake. But it’d been a mistake nonetheless.

  He’d lowered his guard, made himself vulnerable in a way that was just short of unforgivable. With any other woman, sex would’ve been a natural, biological release. But Devon was far from “any other woman.” She was the daughter of the man who blackmailed him and threatened his mother. She was the daughter complicit in her father’s machinations, and even though she hadn’t issued the ultimatum, she benefited from Gregory’s deceit and schemes.

  Cain couldn’t forgive or forget that. Only a fool would turn a blind eye to the wolf snarling and snapping at his door. And though he’d been played for one by Devon in his mother’s garden, he wouldn’t make that error again. Barron had committed a multitude of sins—abused his son, cheated on his wife, abandoned and hid away children—but he hadn’t raised a fool.