Betting on Julia (A Melville Sisters Novel) (Entangled Covet)

by Nina Croft

  “What?” Julia was frowning again, and he realized he’d spoken out loud.

  “Nothing. Look, Julia, it was fun.” He injected as much boredom in his voice as he could. “But it’s over. We both know that. Melanie was right. I have absolutely no use for a good woman.”

  He could almost see the thoughts whirling in her head. “I came here to ask you to talk to me, to tell you—”

  “I don’t want to talk to you.”

  “No, you don’t. You want me to go, don’t you, Bastian. Why is that?” She studied him, her head cocked to one side. “Are you worried that I might break down, beg you to kiss me?”

  “No.” But as she said the words, he was drowned in the memories of her kisses.

  You want her, don’t you, Bastian? Why not have her one last time? Why not show her what you really like? She wants it—you know, she’s begging for it.

  He clamped his lips closed to stop himself responding to the demon. Because Dante was right. He wanted her with a deep, burning craving. He knew he’d never see her again, and he needed to touch her one more time, hold her, and bury himself inside her so they would become one. For a brief time. Afterward, he would find the strength to do what he needed to do.

  “I came here to talk—”

  “You don’t need to lie to me. You liked the sex. That’s okay.” He allowed his gaze to drop down over her body, settled his features into his best insolent expression. “You want a good-bye shag? Did you like what you saw last night? Think you want to swap that sweet vanilla sex for something a little more…fun. A little bondage, a little…pain. You think you can take it?”

  “You’re trying to push me away. I need to know why.”

  “No you don’t. And we don’t need to talk.” Just one more time. “Come here.”

  She stared into his eyes, hers were blue like the summer sky over the Caribbean on a perfect day, and he wanted to drown himself in them. For a minute, she stood there as if fighting with herself, and then she took a small step closer, as if she couldn’t resist. She entered his personal space, and his nostrils filled with the scent of her. Fear and arousal all mingled together with her perfume. His dick stiffened inside his pants.

  She reached out and stroked her hand down over his cheek. But he couldn’t allow any softness. It might break him. Grabbing her hand, he lowered it to his body, pushed it against his erection.

  “Oh.”

  Her fingers pressed into him, and he pulsed against her palm. He took a step back, feeling a sense of loss as her hand fell to her side.

  Ignoring the weakness, he hooked one finger in the neckline of her sweater and ripped it down the front, revealing the pale pink bra, silk and lace, that framed her full breasts. Her nipples were already tight peaks poking through the lace. His throat went dry and his cock pressed painfully against his fly.

  “Strip,” he said, keeping his tone cold. Her gaze flickered up at him, and he thought this time she would back away, turn around, and get the hell out of here and part of him knew that was for the best.

  The demon was so close to the surface, Bastian could hear his words almost constantly now, whispered obscenities, filling his mind and body with dark thoughts of blood and sex.

  Which would she like, the paddle or the flogger? Bind her to the bed or the cross?

  He shut the thoughts out as best he could. Focused on the woman in front of him. She wasn’t running, though she was chewing on her lower lip, and then her jaw tightened, and she put back her shoulders.

  She was going to leave, and he desperately wanted to grab her by the arms and make her stay.

  Instead, she reached for the torn edges of her sweater and dragged the ruined garment from her shoulders. She toed off her boots, and her fingers went to her waist, unfastened her jeans, and wriggled out of them, leaving her in nothing but the bra and matching panties. Fires roared to life in his gut, drowning out the voices in his head.

  She was so beautiful. Her waist narrow between the generous swell of her hips and breasts. Her cheeks were flushed but she still faced him.

  “You know,” she said. “Maybe you’re wrong about me. Maybe I’m not so good after all.” She pushed her shoulders back and took a deep breath. “Maybe I liked what I saw last night. Maybe I want to know what it feels like, and maybe I can give you want you need.”

  “Believe me, you’ll never give me what I need.” She’d never say I love you now, so perhaps he should just take what he could get. One last time with no holding back. Whatever she said, she wasn’t ready for that, and afterward she would no doubt run back to her nice little life. “Take off the rest,” he ordered.

  This time she didn’t hesitate, just reached behind her, undid her bra, and peeled it from her breasts. Then she slid the panties down over her legs and tossed them on the pile of her clothes. She was naked and the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen.

  “Pretty,” he murmured, his tone dismissive.

  Her eyes narrowed and he saw the first flicker of anger.

  Anger was good. He relaxed his control just a little and released some of his own anger, felt it rise up inside him, then reined it in. She must have sensed it, or seen the darkness reflected in his eyes because for the first time she took a step back.

  He curled his lips into a small smile, then held her gaze as he dragged his T-shirt over his head and threw it on the floor. Her gaze dropped to his chest and something flared in her eyes.

  “You’re hurt.”

  He glanced down; his whole body was mottled with bruises from last night’s fight. “You should see the other guys.”

  But he didn’t want her sympathy. He’d rather have her anger, even her fear. His hand shifted to his waist and he slowly unbuckled his belt, pulled it free, and doubled it over in his hand.

  Part of him ached with the need to touch her, hold her. He wanted to stroke every inch of her, kiss her all over, make slow, sweet love to her. Forget the mess of his life.

  Oh, pleeease. Excuse me while I throw up. Just remember there are two of us here.

  But the rest of him craved violence, needed to make her scream for him. Not for Dante, but for him. Maybe the demon had been right all along.

  About time you realized it.

  Ignoring the inner voice, he slapped the belt against his thigh. She flinched at the crack of leather against leather, just the tiniest of movements. “You really want this?”

  She nodded. “I trust you, Bastian.”

  At the words, the tension drained from him. He’d fuck her, and afterward, he would kill her brother and make sure she knew it was him, and then he would disappear. And she wouldn’t come searching for him again.

  …

  Okay so that might have been the biggest whopper of a lie she had ever told. How could she trust a man she didn’t even know, who had lied to her, used her for his own twisted amusement? A bet? She should be marching right out of here, but she couldn’t make herself move. And she couldn’t seem to drag her eyes from the leather belt in his hand. At least he was holding onto the big silver buckle—she was betting that would hurt like hell.

  He flicked it against his thigh again and this time she avoided flinching—just. She was so freaking turned on she was beyond the point of backing out. Even Leloo’s snapping and snarling couldn’t stop her. She wanted this; she just wasn’t sure what “this” involved. But her nipples were hard and she was soaking wet and her skin felt so sensitive that the lightest touch would set her off. A flick from that belt and…

  “So are you ready to show me just how bad you are, Julia?”

  She nodded again having lost the ability to speak.

  “Just say ‘no’ and I’ll stop.”

  Her anger rose again. Mr. I-Wear-Black-Leather-So-I’m-a-Total-Badass was so sure she was a complete wimp. Well, she was a goddamn werewolf and that made her a bigger badass than he could ever be.

  She stalked toward him, saw surprise flicker in his eyes as she came to a halt in front of him. She poked a finger in his c
hest. It was rock solid. “Are you all talk, Bastian-baby, or are we going to get down to some action anytime soon?”

  His eyes were hooded as he reached out grabbed her hand, pulled it away from him. “Don’t touch me unless I say you can touch me,” he growled.

  She remembered what Melanie had said last night about her being submissive. Well, guess what? She wasn’t. She knew that now. While she might be a little kinky, and the idea of a little spanking might make her toes curl, she sure as hell wasn’t submissive. She tugged her hand free and jabbed him again. “Or else what?”

  She wanted to goad him. He was so controlled. Thought he knew everything. Well he knew about as much about her as she did about him. They were both a pair of goddamn liars. She prodded him again.

  He moved faster than she would have believed possible and somehow she was whirled around and slammed back against the solid length of him.

  For a second she fought him. Could she overpower him? Probably not—according to Daniel he had taken on two powerful werewolves and won. And if he felt her strength, then he might guess what she was and then he would stop. And she wanted this like she’d never wanted anything in her entire life. She forced herself to relax.

  The hand with the belt was fisted against her belly, the other held both her wrists in front of her, and she was pressed against his body, so hot he almost burned her skin. And hurray, what could only be a huge erection nudged her bottom.

  He lowered his head and grazed his teeth along the skin of her throat, then bit down at the soft spot where her shoulder met her neck. His teeth penetrated the skin and she went completely still, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

  He was marking her and she fucking loved it. Releasing his hold, he breathed in deeply. “Hmm, I can smell your fear and your arousal…and just a little bit of anger. Are you going to fight me?”

  She shook her head, and he released her wrists, his hand sliding up to squeeze her breast. He pinched the nipple sharply and the sensation shot from her breast to her groin, drenching her sex.

  With his body, he propelled her across the short space to the sofa, pressed her face down across the back. “Don’t move.”

  She couldn’t help a little squirm. This was it. Was she mad?

  He took a step back and she groaned at the loss of his body heat. She didn’t dare move but it seemed like an age before she heard the whistle of leather through the air and the belt came down across her buttocks. It hurt.

  “Ouch.”

  Behind her, Bastian went still. “You want me to stop?”

  She peered over her shoulder. “Jesus. Did I say stop? I mean, it’s supposed to hurt isn’t it?”

  For a second, humor flashed in his eyes and she caught a glimpse of the old Bastian. Then it was gone and the belt came down again. This time she was ready for the sting, the weird blend of pleasure and pain that heightened all her senses. She tried to analyze it, but then the belt came down again forcing the thoughts from her head until she could concentrate on nothing but the sharp buildup of pleasure, as though she was wound up tight and each strike ratcheted the pleasure tighter until it had to snap. She was whimpering under her breath, her ass raised, needing more, but not knowing what. Then he stopped and she almost screamed her frustration. She peered over her shoulder.

  He stood a foot away, the belt hanging from his hand, sweat sheening his naked chest. He was breathing hard and his eyes were dark with desire.

  “More?” She glared at him and he laughed, and then all the humor left his face. “Open your legs.”

  She obeyed without thinking, closed her eyes, and bit down on her lip, shivers racing across her skin. When the belt hit her between the thighs, every muscle in her body locked up tight. When it came again, striking against her swollen clit, she threw back her head and screamed. Pleasure pulsed through her. She was hardly aware of Bastian throwing down the belt and closing the space between them.

  His hand fisted in her hair, jerking her head back and pressing his lips to the curve of her throat as his cock buried itself inside her in one hard lunge that left her gasping. Her inner muscles clenched around him, her fingers curled into the soft leather of the sofa.

  “You like it rough, baby?” he whispered the question against her skin as he pulled out, then thrust back in, the sofa shifting under the force.

  She didn’t think he was expecting an answer—it had to be obvious she liked it—a lot.

  He held her steady with a hand on her ass the other splayed across her back as he pounded into her. She lost focus of everything except the man. He surrounded her, his touch on her skin, the musky scent in her nostrils, each stroke burning her flesh, driving her higher until her heart was slamming and the pleasure was building again.

  She pushed back against him and his speed increased. He slapped her right buttock, then the left. Finally, his hand slid around, burrowed between her thighs, found the swollen nub and squeezed.

  For a second everything went black as she came again, lights flashing behind her closed lids, as she shattered into a thousand pieces. She was dimly aware of Bastian finding his own release. Then she was in his arms and he was kissing her as if he never wanted to let her go. After scooping her up, he carried her through into the bedroom, laid her down on the huge bed. She couldn’t work out his expression, rueful maybe.

  She licked her dry lips. “That was…nice.”

  He laughed softly, then the humor dropped from his face. “I should make you go.”

  His words tore at her heart. She’d had the rough, and now she craved the sweet. “Make love to me instead.”

  For a moment, she thought he would refuse, and then he lowered his head and kissed her again. His emerald eyes were dark with passion, no longer hard like gemstones, but soft and giving. “Just remember—this changes nothing.”

  He stripped off the rest of his clothes under her watchful stare. When he stood before her naked, she lifted one small hand and held it out to him. Sliding his palm against hers, he stretched his length out beside her.

  Leloo had been scratching and whining, now finally, she was at peace.

  Julia lay back as he kissed her everywhere, down her throat, his tongue stroking the sensitive spot where he’d bitten her early.

  Tingles shot through her body, along her nerves, heating her blood. She writhed against the silk sheets, and he soothed her with kisses.

  He raised his head, and she reached up and caressed his cheek. “Make love to me,” she said again, and he took her lips with his while he came up over her. Nudging her thighs apart with one leg, he stroked a hand down over her belly and the muscles locked. His long fingers ruffled the curls at the base, then slid between the folds of her sex. She was still sensitive and the touch sent sparks shooting through her body, tightening her nipples until they ached for his touch. As if he sensed her need, he lowered his head and kissed one peak, laved it with his tongue, sucked it into his mouth, and suckled gently, sending warmth down to pool at her core. At the same time, he pushed one finger inside her. The urgency that had marked their earlier sex was gone but still she wanted him inside her, and she bucked her hips against his hand.

  He shifted slightly and the scalding length of his erection nudged at her core. He balanced on one elbow and cupped her face with his big hand while he pushed inside her, filling her.

  When he was fully inside, he held himself still and kissed her again. This time his tongue pushed inside her mouth, and her senses were flooded with the spicy taste of him, her nostrils with the scent of fresh sweat and musky aroused male. He caged her in, surrounded her, and she’d never felt so right, so safe, in her whole life. As though this was meant to be. Inside her, Leloo wagged her tail and her eyes widened.

  He drew back. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.” To prove her point, she wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him in even farther as pleasure rippled across his stern features. Then he started moving inside her, his thrusts slow, almost languid, and straightaway, she fel
t the buildup of pleasure.

  Something told her this was time out for both of them, and she didn’t want it to end, but her body thought differently, craving release. Each inward stroke pressed against her clit and lifted her a little bit higher.

  “Let go,” he murmured as she fought the pleasure.

  “I don’t want it to be over.”

  “It won’t be. Let go.”

  And she did. As she relaxed, the pleasure washed over her in waves, rolling her, sucking her under. She closed her eyes and let the sensations carry her away.

  When her lashes flickered open, he was watching her. “More?”

  “Much more.” And he moved again, over and over, slowly grinding into her, coiling her insides tight until she teetered on the edge. This time she didn’t fight it. She imploded, pleasure shooting through her and still he moved. She came again, and she threw back her head and screamed.

  As he thrust harder and faster, she wrapped her arms and legs around him, clinging on tight, not wanting to let him go.

  He threw back his head, his spine arched, and he spilled himself inside her, continuing to pump as though he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

  At last, he went still. Julia maintained her grip, and he collapsed on to his side with her still holding on and him still deep inside her. He stroked her back, her hair, his hands cupping her ass for long minutes. Finally, he stopped moving. She didn’t want to speak, didn’t want him to speak either and spoil what had been one of the most sublime, beautiful experiences of her life.

  But it couldn’t last.

  Something had changed while they had made love. Because it had been making love. It had been beautiful and had touched some deep part of her. She’d sensed the anger in him when he’d first taken her, as though everything was held in tight and waiting to explode. Then he had relaxed.

  She felt the faintest of kisses on her hair, and he tried to pull free. She held on and she was strong, but he peeled her fingers from his skin, unwrapped her legs from around his waist, and sat up. Running a hand through his hair, he sat for a second on the edge of the bed, his shoulders hunched.

  The scars on his back almost glowed, and she stroked her fingers down over the length of them, felt him flinch under the soft touch.