He pulls me from my knees, crushing me to his chest and our lips collide. Covering my mouth with his, he slowly devours me, his tongue washing across my lips, into my mouth and around my tongue.
“Mm mm. I can taste myself on your lips.” His lips don’t leave mine as he speaks, tugging my bottom lip between his teeth. “You are a wicked creature,” he says, dragging his thumb across my lips. Before I know what is happening, he throws me over his shoulder and makes his way back into the bedroom. I squeal in delight as he slaps my ass, a deliciously violent crack fills the air, making me shiver. His hand runs the length of my spine, raising goose bumps in its wake. All the while a low growl rumbles in Rhys’ chest, his back rolling with the vibration; I press my breasts to his back and wrap my arms around his hips. He slides a finger between my legs and beneath the scrap of lace that covers me and I moan, my hot breath sliding against the tight flesh that wraps Rhys’ hips. Sliding a second finger into the fire, he steadies my legs and rocks me forward as he pushes into me, his fingers curled to press on the very spot that will make everything go black, releasing me into a divine oblivion.
He presses his fingers down to the knuckle, then slaps my flesh again, sending a shock straight to my core. I gasp against his back and squeeze him tighter, holding on for dear life as a wave takes me under. I am light headed from hanging upside down, my blood has been singing for too long, skipping on a high note, begging for relief. He presses into me and fireworks explode behind my eyes, making me scream out. Unable to hold back, I am left shaking, and raw. He swings me to the bed, instantly covering me with his sweat slicked body.
“You like that, Sophie. You continue to surprise me. Every time I fear I have pushed you too far you surprise me. Your body is begging for more.” He dips his head and lays a leisurely kiss on my lips before moving to my neck and down my throat. “So surprising,” he murmurs into the hollow of my throat, before filling the empty space with his warm tongue. Burying my fingers in his growing hair, I tug his head back.
“You have been holding back,” I accuse. With a lusty stare and a swipe of his tongue across those full lips, I forget to take a breath.
“I will continue to hold back with you, Beautiful. I just forgot myself for a moment, forgot who I was dealing with.”
“What does that mean?” It barely escapes my lips, softer than a whisper before he slides down my body.
“Nothing, never you mind.” Using his tongue, he circles one nipple while his fingers tug at the other. A slow heat rolls down my body, through my veins and across my heated, sticky skin.
“I can handle it. I want it.” I am practically panting as he makes slow work of my body.
“I know you do. I know you can. It’s not that. It is what comes after.” His chest rumbles slightly as he presses up on his hands again, hovering above me. He presses a finger to my lips. “No more talking.” With the shake of his head, I stay silent as he settles between my legs, pulling my panties off and tossing them to the floor. One quick look and a crooked grin flashes across his lips before he hollows his cheeks, sucking my swollen clit into his mouth and my vision goes black.
He strokes my swollen folds with his tongue. My flesh begs for more and I writhe in an amazing, beautiful agony. Needing the release, knowing an explosion of epic proportions in eminent, yet wanting to feel just like this for so much longer. Hovering at the top of the note, my body keeps rising, step by step, hanging right at the edge. He slides his fingers between my lips and presses my clit with his palm, grinding against me, sending fire rushing through my veins.
A finger slips along my seam and he circles the tight bud, pressing gently against the ring of my ass. The breath catches in my chest for less than a second before I know that I want him to do it. In the next second my hips press down against him, pressing my tight, virgin ring to his finger, wanting him to break that last barrier. My body is practically crying for it, begging for him to crest that last barrier. He slides his finger back up to my wet pussy before sliding back down and pressing slowly beyond the puckered ring, straight to my dark soul. He pulls his finger back and then presses in again, slowly pushing until my body relaxes and I pull him into me. To the knuckle he sinks his finger and pumps in and out of my body, driving me upwards, filling me exquisitely, my body screaming in ecstasy. A high pitched mewl rips from my throat as I am pushed so quickly from my long suffering precipice that I forget how to fall. My heart is in my throat, my eyes are blind and my body hums at the highest frequency. This amazing life changing orgasm rolls over me in a never ending parade of release after release, sucking the very life from my body, until I can hardly find the strength to breathe. He lets my body fall to the bed, but before I can recover, he fills me with his rock hard cock.
“Ahh!” I cry out, my body screaming now, so sensitive, on fire and quickly turning to cinders. He pulls back and drops his hips.
“Open your eyes, Sophie,” he growls. I open my eyes, and if looks could make a woman cum, surely that would do it. His eyes are on fire and burning right through me. “I want to watch your eyes.” He slams into me and the force rings across the room. Again and again, he buries himself deeper until I cry out. “Come with me!” he yells, his eyes locked on mine. He raises up on his knees, his fingers digging into my hips, with one ferocious thrust we crash into each other and collapse together. His eyes grow wide and black as the deepest recess of space, and I feel as if he is looking right into my soul. A tear streaks down my cheek, surely from exhaustion, as I blink up at him, almost unable to withstand the very gravity of his stare. Our bodies twitch and struggle together, twisted around one another as we slowly return to earth. Rhys releases a deep breath and his eyes narrow and warm before he slips from my grasp and rolls onto his side, leaving a hand behind pressed to my belly, which still rings from the force of his hips. Aftershocks rack my body and all the while I watch him, his dark eyes and their hunger barely sated.
That was a power struggle of epic proportions and still he looms. Who is to be the winner? Surely, he thinks he has won, as I lay spent while he watches me triumphantly. But I know better. I have won. I was never going to see Andrew again. And now Rhys understands how it feels to have to deal with someone else’s past.
“You should make me a sandwich,” I mutter as I roll onto my tummy and bury my face in the pillow, hiding the crooked smirk on my face. Rhys covers me with his body, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. His soft lips rain kisses on the sensitive flesh of my back, sending a shiver down my spine. His lips hover behind my ear.
“I will gladly make you anything you like, Ms. Noelle,” he sighs before leaving me with a soft kiss.
I must have dozed for a few minutes and when I wake it’s to a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Rhys’ eyes shine as he smiles down on me and the room is filled with lust and infatuation and something so pure. I prop myself against the wall of pillows and offer him half of the sandwich he made for me.
“What do you normally do on your birthday?”
“Questionable things, in exotic locations.” His eyes twinkle as he winks and licks a bit of jelly from the corner of his mouth.
“And this year?”
“This year, I will be doing very questionable things,” his low voice rumbles through my core and heat floods between my legs, “in the most exotic location.” His fingers brush against my pussy, still plump and pink, sending a jolt of lightening down to my toes. “My favorite place,” his lips are warm against my neck, “a very exclusive location.” He slips his hand between my legs and cups my pussy in his palm, sliding a finger beyond my folds, swiping at my clit.
“You are insatiable,” I whisper, letting my head fall back while the sensation of his fingers washes over me.
“For you,” he breathes before sweetly taking my lips.
“What is this?” I ask, unable to hold back. Our fingers laced, his strong arms cradling me against his chest, the beat of his heart a hypnotic melody. I bury my nose in his sticky matted chest hair and breathe
deeply. Wanting the scent of him seared into my memory. Everything feels suddenly different, settled. I cannot continue to merely orbit around him, pushed and pulled by his whims. I need and deserve a little clarity.
“Hmmm?” He traces circles on my shoulder with his finger, leaving trails of heat with every feather light stroke, his lips softly resting at the top of my head. Relaxed and sated, his demeanor is markedly different. His touch lush, and slow, the immediate need for control calmed. He is unguarded, generously so. “This….is amazing,” he mutters.
I press my cheek against his chest while he runs his hands along the dips and curves of my back and shoulders, kneading and pressing. The room is quiet, but for our breathing. The air is still, but for his gentle movements upon my skin. My mind is peaceful. In his arms, I find it easier and easier to quiet the disbelief, the feeling that at any moment I may wake up and be left standing, still alone, and broken. There has been a seismic shift between us. We finally understand one another, if only for a moment. My heart is full, as are my arms. The silence is crackling between us, perfect and still. The constant beat of New York City is a distant reminder that we are not alone.
Chapter 11
The morning proves the quick comfort we have developed as he readies for work and I watch.
“You lying there like that is very unfair, Beautiful.” I turn under the light comforter as a strategic corner slips, revealing flesh to the hungry wolf. I smile slyly at him as he tries to disregard what he knows he wants. That lip curls as he stalks towards the bed, tugging his tie around his neck.
“Damn you, woman.” He climbs across the bed and covers me with his body. Cloaked in fine threads, he presses against me and takes my mouth with such ferocious passion it takes my breath away. His lips crush against mine, desperate and starving. His hand moves to my throat and he lifts my mouth to his, sucking my tongue into his mouth, bruising my lips. My head swirls and I moan into his mouth before he releases me and backs away. “Two can play that game, Beautiful,” his sly grin slides into place as he ties his tie, his eyes never leaving mine.
“I have meetings all morning, Sophie. I’ll make us a dinner reservation. Charlie will be here for you if you want to go out.” He grabs his jacket, kisses me on the forehead and checks his watch. “I hate leaving you, but I have no choice. I will try to wrap up as soon as possible. Maybe we can have lunch, I’ll let you know.” A quick kiss on the forehead and he saunters out the door.
“Happy Birthday!” I call behind him. He swiftly turns and peaks around the door with the most infectious, pure joy smile.
“Oh, Beautiful. This is already the best birthday yet.” And with that he disappears and I sink back under the covers.
***
I spend most of the day prepping, pacing and thinking too much. When I finally get the call from Charlie that he is on his way, I am thankful for the distraction and so nervous. We shared a quiet candle lit dinner in a curved booth, in a smoky corner of an old Italian eatery that felt straight out of Goodfellas. It was romantic and slow, hot and perfect. No bustle of the city or crowds. No schmoozing or networking. Just Rhys and I, tucked in a corner, eyes only for each other. Nothing could have been more perfect, except what I had planned for him when we got home. Everything is set, I made sure before I left. Gifts are in place, the batter is made. Everything is ready, all I need now is the nerve to pull it off. He quietly pays the bill and we slip into the back seat of the car and into city traffic. He takes my face into his hands, our lips meet and electricity fills the car. I am suddenly sure, I can do this.
When we get back to Rhys’ place, he retreats to his office for a quick call to his mother and I set to work, still not completely sure this isn’t a huge, cheesy mistake. I pull out the waffle iron I bought and take the batter from the refrigerator. It just seemed…right, to make him waffles tonight, for his birthday. Just as I am pulling the first waffle from the iron, he comes strolling into the room, bringing my heart with him.
“Waffles, Beautiful?”
“My version of a birthday cake,” I tease, dropping a huge dollop of fresh whipped cream onto his still warm, fresh waffle and pushing it in front of him. His smile is infectious as he takes a seat on a stool and pulls me into his lap.
“Don’t make me eat alone.” Dipping his finger into the whipped cream, he offers it to me and I gladly take it into my mouth, sucking the whipped cream from the tip of his finger with a playful hum. His eyes glitter in the dull light and that crooked mouth makes my pussy wet. I cannot take much more. But he seems to be enjoying himself, casual, cool, collected and unaffected as he bounces me on his knee, blowing soft breaths across my shoulders. I stand and circle the large island, putting a bit of distance between us, affording myself the ability to think semi-clearly for just a moment. He is like a hypnotist, puts me right down with so little effort. “What’s wrong, Sophie? Why are you all the way over there?” he asks, grinning, knowing full well the answer.
“You are playing with me.”
“I love playing with you, Sophie. I could wind you up so tightly.” He circles the island coming up behind me, his lips hovering at my ear, his warm breath tickling my neck. “I could make you come without even touching you. Would you like that?”
“Mmm,” I purr with my eyes closed, absorbing every last vestige of his adoration and lusty promise.
“I want you to talk to me, Sophie.”
“I don’t want you to hold back.”
“Hmm,” he blows across my collarbone. His scent filling my nose as a jolt of electricity courses in my veins. “I do not want to scare you.” The threat rolls down my back as he circles me, like a prowling cat.
“I like it,” I breathe. “Push me, I need it. I want it.” His face lights up at my little request, like a child on Christmas morning, he looks at me with bright, white need.
“Holy hell, Beautiful, Happy Birthday to me!” The words rush out in a heavy whisper, his eyes wide with excitement.
“I got you a gift.” I peek at him feeling shy and a little unsure.
“What could be better than waffles? This night just keeps getting better.”
Opening a drawer, I pull out a silver box from where I had stashed it away earlier. A momentary hesitation distracts me, thinking about the contents of the box, about what it means now, in the context of last night, and where it may lead. I look up into his eyes and there is no doubt left, evaporated in a moment under his lusty gaze. I hold the box out to him. He cocks his head and takes it, running his finger around the top. Regarding me shrewdly, his fingers tap the top of the box and he smiles. When he pulls the top off, he stops breathing all together, and I am at once embarrassed and excited. Hooking his finger through the metal ring, he holds the handcuffs up, swinging them in front of me.
“Handcuffs?” He is so cute with his crooked grin and his raised brow. A warmth settles over me, making me confident and eager.
“Call it an exercise in trust and commitment. Unzip me,” I demand quietly, turning my back to him. This is fun, the illusion of control, the minute amount of power I hold at this moment is utterly intoxicating and sure to be short lived. His fingers run the length of the zipper on my dress, but he never touches me. Every second that he doesn’t touch me feels like an eternity. The need for his hands and physicality grows exponentially, he has become a necessity, as have his hands and lips and every other part of him. I hear a small gasp as the zipper slides down my back revealing the lace and bone corset hiding beneath my demure dress. I turn around and slowly let the dress slip from my body, pooling at my feet. His breath catches and he is biting his lip, eyes appraising me like only a he can. I knew the moment I saw it that I had to have it. Lingerie has never been my thing. But with Rhys, I feel like anything can be my thing, if I want it. The delicate, vintage French lace is just the right mix of vixen and goddess. The bones hold me tight, shooting my breasts upward, framing my hips like a burlesque dancer.
“Beautiful,” he mouths with heavy breath. Challenge spark
les in his green eyes. “Show me you aren’t afraid, Beautiful.”
A delicious shiver rolls over my body, culminating in a heavy vibration feeding my belly. My skin prickles at the sight of him with the handcuffs. Biting back a triumphantly crooked grin, I snatch them from him, quickly slapping one around my wrist. It feels amazing. The bite of the cuff, the coolness of the metal, it all settles between my legs and I am off the charts hot. Looking into Rhys’ eyes, I almost shatter on the spot.
“Where do you want me?”
His eyes travel above my head to what I assumed was a pot rack, a wide, metal grid hanging above the island. It is a pot rack, sans pots. Come to think of it, I don’t think there has ever been a pot hanging from it as long as I have been here. I guess I never noticed, or just assumed that maybe it was because he doesn’t cook. But the sight of it now makes my knees weak. I look back at him and he is watching me intently. His eyes narrow on me and he takes a step forward.
“I have thought about it a few times,” he quips with a grin. His excitement is palpable, igniting a slow burn under my skin. I am powerful, and alluring. “One thing is missing,” he says to himself. He returns from his room with a silk eye mask. Lifting me to the counter, he commands me to get on my knees. The concrete is smooth and cold against my skin. He easily hops onto the counter and motions for me to put my arms in the air. Winding the loose cuff through the grid, I lift my hand and he closes the cuff tightly around my other wrist. He slides the blindfold over my eyes and hops down from the counter.
Speak (The Voice trilogy Book 2) Page 11