by Lora Leigh
“Tell you what, baby,” he suggested smoothly. “I have a bit of experience in sharing a lover. Come to bed and I’ll give you a taste of what you’re asking for.”
Her eyes narrowed, arms folding across her breasts to keep from throwing something at him. Something like the fake fruit Natches had carved for her and placed in a collectible basket for her dining table. Large apples, oranges, bananas, and clusters of grapes. They were heavy, just the right size to throw at dumbasses.
“Would you really?” Her brow arched as the question slipped past her lips with heavy sarcasm. “Well, how kind of you, Doogan, but I really couldn’t let you put yourself out like that. I mean, after all, you barely know me.”
Brooding lust filled his expression, darkened his eyes. “No worries, baby, I’m sure when I get my dick up that cute ass of yours, we’ll know each other rather well.”
Oh, would they now?
Arrogant jerk.
Not that she’d mind experimenting with the act, but his attitude left something to be desired.
“You can just keep your dick out of my ass.” Her body was highly protesting that statement. “I won’t be owned by you, my brother, my cousins, or any other man. And I sure as hell won’t be berated for a confrontation that was none of your damned business, Brom.”
She moved to stomp past him into her room just to have him step in her way, his gaze burning with lust.
“Brom.” She emphasized his name again. “Don’t start.”
“Oh, Zoey.” He shook his head slowly, his smile slow and lazy. “I’m not your brother or your cousins. Pulling that Mackay arrogance on me simply doesn’t work.”
Well, that wasn’t fair.
She’d perfected Mackay arrogance.
It even worked on Mackays.
Sliding to the side, she put the dining room table between them, grinning at his chastened look.
“You really don’t want to tangle with me after I’ve just finished a fight with Natches,” she warned him, narrowing her eyes at the pure arrogance that settled over his features. “It’s a really bad idea, Brom.”
“The sarcasm in your tone offends me, Zoey,” he informed her coolly.
Irritation flickered over his features, pulling a small laugh from her. “Those power clothes you wear like a second skin offend me, but hell, each to their own, right? They make you arrogant and cold. Put your jeans back on. Let Doogan out of lockup and we’ll discuss additional sexual privileges and who I allow to have them.”
Mockery tilted his lips, gleamed in his chocolate gaze.
Damn him, she just loved his eyes. Even when they were cold and assessing as they were now.
Stepping around the side of the table, he stopped as she shifted to face him again, frowning. “I’m not into children’s games, Zoey. Stop moving around the table.”
She grinned. “Now that would just be too easy. I’m not all about your caveman tactics. You want me? Catch me.”
Pure male dominance lit his expression. “Zoey baby, not a game you want to play.”
She laughed at that, careful to keep the table between them. “Well, I’m sure it is. I’m playing it, aren’t I?”
Dark eyes narrowed on her. “When I catch you,” he said softly, “I’m tying you down to your bed, and once I’ve finished making you so damned hot you’ll swear you’re on fire, then I’m going to show you exactly what it feels like to take two men at once.”
She couldn’t help but grin smugly. “There’s only one of you, Doogan.”
“One of me, and the very erotic toys I’ve purchased just for you,” he promised. “Everything’s already laid out and ready.”
She blinked back at him. He wasn’t serious. He couldn’t be serious.
Then, before she could anticipate the move, he vaulted over the table, hooked one arm around her waist, and dragged her to his chest.
“That’s cheating,” she cried out, laughter getting the best of her.
Not that he paid much attention to the accusation because a second later she found herself tossed over his shoulder and he was striding to her bedroom.
“Doogan, you so are not getting away with this,” she squealed, part laughter, part outrage. “You’re crazy.”
Seconds later she was tossed to the bed, bouncing lightly, the laughter getting the best of her as her hair flipped around her face, the long, loose curls tangling and blocking her sight.
By the time she managed to push it behind her, he’d gripped her feet and removed her shoes and socks, and all she could do was stare at him with sudden, blazing arousal.
He was already naked, and fully aroused. The wide, dark crest and thickly veined shaft arrowed toward her, pre-cum glistening on the tip and reminding her how very erotic it was to take him into her mouth.
“Hey . . .” Her gaze shot to his face as he removed her jeans with simple expediency.
How had he managed to release the low-cut band around her hips so easily? And he’d taken the thin silk thong she wore with them.
Without answering her, Doogan moved to the bed, straddled her legs, and gripped the hem of her shirt. His position placed the straining length of his cock at just the right level. The perfect position to push it into her mouth.
“Give me the shirt.” His voice was a hard, rough rasp as he pulled the tank to her breasts. Zoey licked her lips, lifted her arms, and let him have the tank top and then the lacy bra she wore.
He could have the damn clothes. She wanted him. She wanted him in her mouth, wanted him taking her, possessing her.
Her tongue swiped over the broad crest as she leaned forward those last few inches.
Doogan’s response was immediate.
A low, harsh groan, the fingers of one hand bunched in the hair at the back of her head, holding her back, allowing her to taste him with her tongue alone. Lifting her gaze to him, Zoey licked what she could touch of the broad crest, loving the heat and the taste of him.
He had one knee bent next to her, his foot pressing into the mattress as the other rested on the bed. The perfect position for one hand to stroke up his thigh, her nails rasping lightly until they came to the taut sac at the base of his cock. His testicles drew tighter as she let her fingertips and her nails play against them.
“Think that’s going to distract me?” he asked, his brown eyes completely wicked. “That your sweet mouth will make me forget just how many times I’ve dreamed of taking that sexy little rear of yours?”
“Hm. Possibly,” she murmured before stroking the crest with her tongue again.
“Not a chance, sweetheart.” The promise in his voice was the only warning she had before he moved, pushed her back on the bed, and then came over her.
His lips covered hers, owned hers, the kiss so hot, so carnal that her toenails wanted to curl with the pleasure. He held her wrists easily, stretching them above her head, holding her restrained as he worked her mouth, his tongue teasing hers, drawing her deeper into the mesmerizing eroticism sweeping through her.
So intense was the pleasure, the sheer excitement he caused with his touch that when he pulled back and she moved to wrap her arms around his shoulders, it took her a minute to realize he’d managed to restrain her.
She tugged at the bonds. The restraints on her wrists were soft, supple. Securing her wrists directly above her head, he’d have no problem putting her in whatever position he wanted her in. On her back . . . or on her stomach.
“Sneaky,” she panted, breathless at the sensation of his lips at her neck, his hands stroking along her side to the swollen mounds of her breasts.
The raspy chuckle whispered against her skin as his kisses moved lower, his lips on a direct path to her breasts.
Her nipples were tight, hard, aching for attention. They were so sensitive that when he blew a soft breath over one, sensation heated the tip and dragged a moan from her lips. Chills of pleasure raced up her spine seconds later when he brushed his lips over the straining bud.
“This restraining-me stuff i
s going to have to stop,” she moaned, because he was teasing her to death and she was loving it. Dying from the need for more sensation and arching closer, all but begging for more of the torment.
“We can discuss it later,” he promised, the words whispered over the straining nub of the opposite nipple.
“When later?” She was panting, her voice filled with a pleading note.
“When your pussy’s not dripping within seconds of being cuffed to the bed.” His fingers were suddenly between her thighs, running through the narrow slit to prove his point.
She was so wet, so slick that the moisture lay in a thick, heavy layer over the swollen folds.
Once his fingers dipped into the lush, slick juices, they didn’t retreat. Rather, his lips parted, drawing the hard tip of her breast into his mouth and drawing on it with fiery pulls of his mouth. His fingers slid lower, drawing the slickness back to the smaller, tighter entrance he sought. There, he rubbed the tightly clenched opening, the tip of his finger pressing and massaging it, stealing her breath with the forbidden, erotic caresses.
With each slight penetration of his fingertip, her senses became awash with a slight stinging pleasure as he parted the puckered flesh. Deeper, though, inside the feminine, sensual core of her, she could feel something more.
“What are you doing to me?” she whimpered, unable to tell him to stop, but not so certain of the stirrings of emotion that made little sense to her.
“God, Zoey.” Releasing her nipple, he brushed his cheek over the highly sensitive nubbin of flesh. “I’m destroying both of us. Do you feel it, baby?”
Forcing her eyes open, she stared at the tightly drawn features, the heavy, carnal need, and in his melted chocolate gaze she saw shadows of some emotion she had no idea how to define.
“Tell me to stop, Zoey,” he demanded, his lips moving to the opposite breast. “Tell me to let you go. Or neither one of us will be the same later.”
Not be the same? It wouldn’t be any different than when he took her virginity. How could any sex act be more momentous than that first time, that first lover?
Hazy sensuality surrounded her, filled her. When his head lifted she stared back at him, the pleasure drugging her.
“You’re not going to do it, are you?” he groaned. “You won’t tell me to stop, will you, Zoey?”
She could feel his cock pounding against her thigh, see the vein at his neck pounding in excitement.
“Maybe,” she answered him breathlessly, stretching beneath him and letting a smile touch her lips. “Let me think about it a minute, ’kay?”
Let her think about it?
Let her think about it?
Doogan narrowed his eyes on her, seeing the challenge in her gaze, the hint of a dare and shadows of that destruction in her oddly colored eyes.
She was so fucking innocent. Too innocent.
She had no idea what she was tempting by allowing him to take her in this way.
“Time to think is over.” Surging back, Doogan flipped her to her stomach before she could protest, glancing at the cuffs on her hands to be certain the toggle on the chain securing them to the bed turned with her wrists.
She gave a throaty little laugh filled with hunger and such a complete lack of fear that his chest clenched. She trusted him. At this moment, before she realized exactly what he was about to do to her, she trusted him completely. And once he was finished, that trust would go to her soul.
“How pretty.” His hand smoothed over the curve of her rear. “So pert and well rounded. The first time I saw you, your back was to me and all I could think was how bad I wanted to spank that pretty ass.”
He watched, anticipation and hunger exploding through him as his hand landed on the curve of her rear in a heavy caress, lifted, and he saw the first, erotic blush stain the satiny flesh.
Zoey stilled.
Her breathing was harder now, her fingers gripping the chains of the cuffs and holding on tight.
Giving her a moment to anticipate the next caress, he drew free the items he’d laid out earlier on the bed and covered with one of the pillows. The tube of lubrication and a vibrating dildo not quite the size of his own cock.
This had nothing to do with showing her what it would be like to take two lovers, though.
Smoothing his hand over her rear again, Doogan stroked her to her lower back before moving to grip her hips and pull her to her knees.
The sight of her juices lying heavy on the bare folds of her pussy caused his dick to clench in demand. He was so damned ready to fuck her. Where he was dying to fuck her required a bit of preparation, first.
“Doogan?” She whispered his name, the breathless, almost questioning pitch of her voice bringing a hard smile to his face.
She’d been so certain she could weather this as she had their first night together. Being a woman’s first was an honor to any man, he’d always thought. But this . . . He let his fingers caress along the narrow crease, his fingers once again finding the puckered little entrance he intended to be the first to take as well.
“So pretty.” And she was. She was so damned pretty. He’d never forgotten her after that dance six years ago. And his hunger for her had only grown. “And you have the sweetest ass, Zoey.”
His hand landed against the curve of her rear, the helpless moan that fell from her lips causing his teeth to clench as he fought for control.
As he lowered his head, his lips brushed over the slight blush his hand created, feeling the muscle tighten, feeling the little shiver that raced up her back. Holding her hips in place, he let his lips wander along the shallow crease, his tongue stroking, teasing until reaching the puckered entrance.
“Doogan . . .”
“Getting scared now, baby?” It wasn’t fear. He could feel the way her body pushed against him, then eased away, hesitant in the face of caresses she’d probably never considered.
“Scared? Never,” she scoffed, then whimpered in pleasure.
Flicking his tongue around the clenched entrance, he rimmed it teasingly as he lifted one hand and lowered it again in another of the heated little caresses.
She wasn’t frightened, not in the literal sense, but Doogan could sense the feminine instincts rioting as he touched her so intimately. Just as he could feel her pleasure in the soft, silky slide of moisture coating the intimate folds just below his lips.
She was so wet, so slick. For the first time since he’d begun having sex, he could feel his self-control fraying with the need to just fuck. To fill her, pump inside her, and ride them both into the storm of carnal hunger and need building inside him.
Controlling this woman’s passions and that instinctive Mackay arrogance and temperament would never be easy. She would always be a challenge. She would always be looking for a challenge.
Pulling back, he applied a heavy measure of the lubrication to his fingers.
With his free hand he caressed the rounded curve of her ass, tapped it again, just enough to create a sensual heat in the sensitive flesh and unlock the heart of the woman who would be his destruction.
—
Oh God, what was he doing to her?
Zoey gasped, her breath coming in hard pants, panicked excitement building in her. Arcs of fiery sensation detonated beneath the flesh of her rear, then raced through her bloodstream to a previously unknown depth of her sensuality.
This was crazy. With each little tap to her backside she was craving more. She ached for more of the heat that rode a line of pleasure and pain and only built a demand for more. His hand, broad and callused, tapped one cheek, then the next before returning and starting again. His tongue raked over that forbidden entrance, shocking her to her core, stealing her breath and tensing her body with an instinctive need to protest.
“Scared, Zoey?” The challenge in his voice, the dare she sensed in it, forced back the words she would have spoken, the plea she would have voiced that he release her.
She wasn’t scared.
She was . . .
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“Oh God, Doogan,” she cried out at the feel of his finger, heavily lubricated and shockingly cool, pressing against the entrance now.
What was he doing to her?
“Should I stop, Zoey?” The knowing tone of his voice had her breathing in deep. The next tap to her rear had her back arching, fingers clenching into the blankets beneath. While her senses were locked in processing that new, fiery pleasure, that wicked finger pressed inside her, retreated, returned.
Like a thief, in that moment she felt him steal some part of her. A part of her she didn’t know was hiding, waiting to be taken.
When his finger returned, more of the cool slick gel coating his finger, easing its penetration inside her, Zoey couldn’t hold back her moan any longer. When his hand landed on her rear again she cried out at the twin sensations of white-hot pleasure. One feeding off the other before combining and lancing her senses with a need for more.
Always more.
Her body was greedy, each sensual storm only building the burning need to push higher, to let the spiraling sensations amass until they consumed her.
“So pretty, Zoey,” Doogan groaned, his finger retreating from the narrow channel.
When he returned, her entire body tightened, back arching again as she felt a wider, hotter penetration. It was shocking. Sensations were detonating through her senses with sudden, ricocheting force, giving her no time to consider the implications, to build any defenses against the confusing pleasure and pain that only made her greedier.
She couldn’t even touch him. She wanted to touch him, wanted to feel him.
“Easy, baby,” he crooned behind her, that hint of Irish in his voice so damned sexy it would make any woman beg to give him whatever he wanted. “There you are, love. Damn me, you’re so fuckin’ pretty, Zoey. So hot and sweet.”
As he spoke, his fingers moved inside her in slow, measured thrusts. Each impalement sent that hint of fire streaking inside her, but with each little thrust the fire would dim and she needed more. She wanted that fiery burst of white-hot heat and pleasure back again.
Opening her thighs wider, Zoey pushed back into the thrusts, taking his fingers deeper, harder, moaning at the carnal need building inside her and her inability to dim it.