PerpetualPleasure

by Dita Parker

  The need to thrust inside her was making him insane. Lucie kept impaling herself on him with measured strokes. Then, one fast, hard thrust that pinned her to his groin and had her shouting his name. Her body undulated against him, rising and falling, her face aglow as if she loved nothing more than the feel of his body. Ached for it as much as he yearned for hers.

  God, to spend every waking moment like this, with Lucie taking her pleasure of him, riding his cock as though she couldn’t help it. She was the picture of sensual enjoyment, her face flushed, her eyes dark and wild, her breasts swollen and her nipples so hard they were the lushest raw berries he’d ever had the pleasure of suckling. And her pussy… Christ, if he was forced to leave that milky, fiery sheath before he’d filled her to the brim he would expire.

  “Feel that, honey? Ah fuck,” he groaned, shook his head but it didn’t help. It didn’t clear his thoughts. Where the hell was the sensualist he claimed being? Where the hell was the hedonist who could draw it out until his lover was satisfied and he was good and ready to start building his own climax?

  Ferocious need now throbbed through his mind, his entire system. Somewhere beneath that longing another flame blazed, one he fought to smother. That surge of possessiveness mixed with fear. A knowledge that what he felt now, with her, he might never feel again with anyone else.

  Mac thought he saw the same knowledge in her eyes. Maybe even acceptance. He never heard the words, Lucie begging him to stay, telling him she loved him. The words he longed for echoed in his mind. He silenced them, concentrated on the hunger they shared. He couldn’t have her but he could dream. He would never have her but he would always have this. One perfect night with the woman who would always be a dream almost come true.

  “Fuck me.” The harsh command in his tone had Lucie stilling for a second. She braced her hands against his chest, shifted, lifted and slid back down. Hard.

  His expression twisted. “Oh god. Lucie.” Her head lowered to his shoulder and as if she had only been waiting for permission, she lost control. Tugging at his hair, she pulled his head back. She rode him hard and fast, licked and sucked at his skin, slamming her pussy onto his cock. She took him to the hilt, her hips digging deeper down until she whimpered every time she bottomed out, every time he touched her delicate cervix, praying he wasn’t hurting her.

  Unable to pull out or be gentler with her, powerless to temper her desire or meter the roll of her hips against his, he took her hungry fucking. Lifting his head, he took her mouth, pushed his tongue inside as she purred his name.

  Mac felt the tiny muscles start to quiver again, a torturous clench locking down on his dick as she thrust up and down, kneaded her hips against him and pumped his shaft over and over again.

  “Mac, help me. Oh god.” He could feel her pleasure expand, explode, all along the length of his dick. He felt the rush of ecstasy that filled her as the orgasm washed over her, as she came all over him, gasping his name. Her arms tight around him, Lucie sobbed with pleasure, her mouth on his, her sultry nipples searing his chest.

  She shuddered, writhing against him. He held her easily, slanted his lips over hers and holding her to him he tried to push deeper still. And she took him, all of him, all the way to his balls. He could feel the ultra-tight depths of her pussy from the tip of his cock to the base.

  He stared into her, forced her to look back, to acknowledge even if silently that she felt something—anything—as he watched her. As if the mere act, the intimacy they shared, would clinch something. As if the need alone connected them as she had never imagined possible, forged a bond that could break through the spell and put her under a new one, a stronger one, where she wouldn’t deny him but give him everything, all of her.

  She stared back at him, her body jerking at the surges of pleasure that still rocked through her as he thrust harder. “What do you want, Lucie? Tell me what you want and it’s yours.”

  Her fingers in his hair, her breath hot on his skin, she moaned against his mouth. “I want to feel it. Let me feel you come in my pussy. Fill me.”

  He meant to hold back a while longer, he really did. His cock pulsed, tightened, screaming for release. He clasped her hips and started moving beneath her, harder, faster, surging into the tight grip clenching around his dick.

  She wouldn’t stop milking his cock. She wouldn’t stop ravaging his soul with her every response to him. A second later he cried out. “Lucie!” A curse, a prayer, Mac spilled inside her. Violent jets of semen blasted from his balls as he powered inside her. He plunged deep, driving his cock into the snug wet grip of her spasming pussy.

  Straining at each other, Mac held her in his arms as she shuddered against him. His body quivered with the brutality of the pounding pleasure that churned his core. Her moans echoed his devastation. Lucie’s eyes locked with his, reflecting his total surrender. The lack of emotion she so often displayed was gone. What he saw now was a sea of emotion.

  Her eyes looked shattered. As shattered as he felt.

  “Tha gaol agam ort,” she whispered. I love you.

  “What was that, sweetie?”

  Lucie struggled to keep her eyes opened as the lethargy of afterglow threatened to take over. “A Highland…compliment.”

  Mac nuzzled her neck. “You just said something awful, didn’t you?”

  The last thing she could ever utter out loud.

  Lucie didn’t know what to say, how much to reveal. Buying some time, she peppered kisses on the hard plane of his shoulder, on the polished surface of his throat, tracked back and forth over his sculptured arms and muscle-domed back with her hands.

  “No, I said that you’re built like a god, you kiss like the devil and make love like a heavenly angel. That you’re as well-endowed between the legs as you are between the ears.”

  Something in her whispered, And you’re mine. The certainty pierced through any lingering doubt and every objection. Mac belonged to her. And she belonged to him.

  “All that, huh?” His touch was light but his voice was oddly dark.

  Lucie opened her eyes, jerked up her chin. The sight of him nearly broke her heart. She could see everything he was holding back as securely as she was. Love and need, real and desperate, flickered in his eyes.

  What she felt in that moment, what she’d felt since the moment he’d waltzed into her life, assured her there were things beyond physical pleasure, that things beyond carnal ecstasy did exist. Mac said they did. She knew it now. She could see it in him, she could feel it in her as those emotions welled inside, beat at her brain, glowed in her soul.

  Allowing Mac to watch her closely during sex, letting Mac pleasure her so deeply, so completely, was nothing short of a total role reversal for her. She never imagined she could be that brave or let herself be immersed in her sexuality to the point of total surrender, to the point nothing else mattered but the next joint breath, nothing else existed but his next caress. And she never imagined there would be no regret. Because no sensation on earth compared.

  She had thought their lovemaking would be rife with the hunger she had seen in his eyes, the raw lust his body emanated. It had been intense but it hadn’t been sex, she realized. Or not only sex. It had been personal, sensual, emotional even. Uncomplicated, natural, right, just like Mac had promised it could be. She was too far gone to be terrified of how connected she felt to him as he still watched her closely, whispered how beautiful she was, how amazing it felt to be inside her.

  She had feared one day a man she wouldn’t be able to resist would come along. She’d rationalized that fear, called it survival instinct. Now she was glad MacCale had been the one to see through her, right into her, and help her kill the loneliness, even if it was for a fleeting moment. She didn’t feel that loneliness now. Gradually, the tension locking her muscles abated. All she felt was his warmth as he surrounded her, perspiration draping their bodies, a soul-deep trust that in his arms she was safe to rest.

  Maybe. As he gently caressed her hair, Lucie swore he wa
s growing hard again. “Oh god, Mac. I don’t think I can take another round.”

  His eyes flashed gold. “Of course you can, honey,” he drawled. “And then some. I’m going to fuck this sweet pussy. I’m going to bathe it. Then I’m going to tongue-bathe it. Make love to you again then fuck you some more. How does that sound?”

  The first giggle of the century passed her lips. “Exhausting.”

  “Your pussy begs to differ. I can feel it rippling, baby. Can you feel my dick pound just thinking about it?”

  Actually, she could. The muscles around his scrotum worked, made his cock jerk inside her pussy. His breathing turned rough, furnace blows against her neck as he once again snuggled her.

  “Five months with nothing more than dreams and memories to keep me going. You really think a couple of thrusts will sate my hunger for you, Lucie?”

  “You’ve made me so sensitive, it’ll be the shortest performance in the history of intercourse. I’ll come in seconds.”

  His laughter was playful but unyielding. “So be it. Come anytime you want, honey. As many times as you need.” He stared back at her, his lashes heavy, his expression completely sensual. “I guarantee you I’ll enjoy it as much as you do. I won’t feel used, promise.”

  Mac gripped her by the waist and lifted her against him to arrange her legs and lay her on the bed. He settled behind her and cradled her in his arms. One hand briefly clenched on her hip then slid to the curve of her ass. He stroked over her butt cheek, moved to graze the other, murmuring in approval. Lucie shivered as the broad palm switched course and skated over her hip to her mound.

  “Mac?” It wasn’t a real question. She knew what was coming. Her belly quivered with anticipation, her pussy clenching with fresh arousal as his fingers probed between her labia, eased through the ample juices of her release, of his. He rubbed around her swollen, throbbing clit, forcing her thighs to clamp on his hand and her eyes to shut tight.

  “I—” Lucie gasped. “Oh god. I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

  His fingers slid to her lips, found the edges of her opening. He stroked up and down, the base of his palm firm on her clit. “Then I’m glad you’re not because I have no intention of stopping.” Two fingers spread her entrance to allow two other broad digits to drive inside. He held still, let her savor the feel of him. “Do you want me to stop? Speak now, Lucie, or for the rest of the night hold your peace.” He drew back his fingers, slick, thick moisture slipping from her pussy.

  “Well?”

  He spread the heavy juices on her clit, all over her labia, proof of his conquest and her willing surrender.

  “No, I don’t want you to stop.”

  “That’s the spirit, baby.” His hand withdrew, Mac moving to kneel beside her. Lucie turned on her back and in a flash he was on her, dark, demanding, so damn sexy it stole her breath.

  “Now be a good girl and spread your legs for me,” he said.

  Staring up at him staring down at her in hunger, Lucie complied.

  “You’re so fucked,” he growled.

  Mac jerked back. A second later, she felt heaven.

  Chapter Eleven

  Lucie woke up to the sound of shattering glass. Shooting upright in the bed, she found herself in the sleeping porch draped in multiple covers and the glaring daylight.

  MacCale was gone. And something had broken, upstairs maybe. Something big or heavy or both. The glass-paned French doors at the top of the staircase? Was he hurt?

  Sleepy languor morphing into a state of near panic in seconds, Lucie bolted from the bed and dashed into the hall.

  “Mac?” No answer.

  The phone. Where the hell was her purse, she needed her phone. What if he was unconscious, bleeding to death somewhere? “Mac?”

  Still no answer.

  Her purse lay where she had tossed it last night, on the table in the entrance hall. Lucie upended the bag, the contents spilling on the table, some rolling over the edge and to the floor. Something shattered at her feet as she found the cell phone. Sidestepping the debris around her, she sprinted to the stairs.

  “Mac?”

  She found the French doors intact but no sign of MacCale. Going from room to room, Lucie checked the second floor, her fingers poised to call 9-1-1 the second she found him. Something was wrong. Why else wouldn’t he answer her?

  A sickening crunching sound caught her attention, someone stomping on broken glass in the antiques room. All strength seemed to desert her, Lucie moving as if through quick sand as she took the last steps to find MacCale where he had no business being. MacCale standing tall and unmoving and staring at the box he’d uncovered, the box that held damnation.

  As he looked up at her without saying a word, a hard, hell-bent look in his amber eyes, Lucie knew. At that same instant she knew what he was thinking. He was thinking of opening that box.

  The phone dropped to the floor on a muted thump.

  “I couldn’t do it,” he said.

  Thank God. He had thought about it. Thank God he had come to his senses.

  Thank you thank you thank you.

  “I couldn’t leave.”

  Oh. Oh. Relief drained from her body. Fear crept in, settling low in her belly, a paralyzing pain in her chest even when her heart galloped like mad.

  “I tried walking out. I really did,” Mac said. “Told myself that’s what you want, that I was doing us both a favor. Then it hit me. And I knew. I knew what to do. You need time. Just as Boyd said. So I’ll give you time. All the time you need to get used to the idea you’re not alone.”

  Oh god. “Mac…”

  “I should have locked that door. I thought I’d get this show on the road before you woke up.” His voice was eerily calm but it did nothing to soothe her growing dread.

  “I need for you to wait outside, honey. Who knows what another shot might do to you.”

  “MacCale, please…” Her words were a watery, urgent plea, her eyes flooding with tears of terror.

  “Be a good girl and close the door. And no peeking.” With that remark, he turned back to look at the box. Only then did Lucie notice the Katana sword he had taken down from among the antique weaponry, hidden behind his massive left thigh.

  Lucie felt like slapping herself. She needed to toughen up, a minute ago. She hadn’t shed a tear for a man for generations, and now this man, this incredible, majestic man had her weeping like a child at every turn. He had opened her up, uncovered a world of stunning sensations…

  And he deserved so much more than this.

  “You’re a fearless badass, I get that. You’re a man who’s used to getting his way. But you’re also an honorable man. You would never do anything to hurt me. You said you were falling in love with me, remember? If it’s true—if it still stands—you step away from that case and step out of this room never to enter again.”

  That made him look back at her, but his expression hadn’t changed. His stance was pure male determination, his eyes hard and resolute.

  Lucie felt like screaming.

  “Oh, it’s true, baby. And in one way I’m like every man who has ever fallen under your spell. You had me the moment you decided to have me. But in one department I stand out from every man and his brother. I made up my mind up to have you too. And I did. I do.”

  “Yes you do. I’m yours for the rest of your life, Mac, I swear, but this—”

  He raised his hand, making Lucie freeze midsentence. “You’re wrong on one account. You introduced me to a whole new level of fear. The fear of losing you when I grow old. But that tenacious bastard in me insists on fixing that as well.”

  MacCale laid the sword down then, walked up to her with purpose, scooped Lucie in his arms and started for the door across the hall. Her bedroom.

  “This isn’t some stunt you can retake, Mac. You can’t go back and reverse it. Ever. Do this and I will hate you for it.”

  “I’ll ride you hard and make you forget all about it.”

  “Do this, and you will
end up hating me too.”

  “I’m old enough to know what I want and experienced enough to follow through and handle the consequences.”

  “It’s not a gift, MacCale. It’s a curse and I don’t want it upon you. I’ll be with you but it can’t be like this. If you love me, you won’t. Please tell me you won’t!”

  “It’s because I love you that I will. I can’t change the past. I can’t undo what happened to you. But I can be with you in the future.”

  Hearing him say that broke through Lucie’s shocked inertia and made her pound at him, made her shout and growl. MacCale ducked as if it was nothing, set her down and gave a stern stare.

  “Don’t follow me, Lucie. Do not come to me. I’ll come to you when it’s over. However long it takes, you do not open that door until I know it’s safe. Do you understand me?”

  She glared at him and said nothing.

  “Don’t make me tie you up, baby. What if it takes the rest of the week?”

  Lucie pinched her mouth shut, crossed her arms over her chest and slumped against the cushions. He propped his hands beside her hips and leaned in to press a featherlight kiss on her lips.

  Her nails biting into her palms, Lucie fought the urge to take hold of him and kiss him back. She needed to think of something and fast. She couldn’t think of anything besides latching on to him until he was forced to hurt her to pry her hands away. MacCale would hate himself and it would be her fault.

  He straightened and started back for the doorway. About to step out, he paused and turned back to her, his eyes blazing with purpose.

  Tha gaol agam ort. “I love you,” she whispered. And found herself squashed against the backrest as MacCale descended upon her in a deluge of heat and intensity. “What did you just say?” His eyes were feverish, his voice threatening thunder. God, how she loved to watch him burn.

  “I said that if you go through with it, I will never say it again.”