Authors: Darah Lace
rotating with each rise and fall. “For God’s
sake...don’t...”
Stop. Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.
She’d done it. Stripped away every last shred of
his control. There was no turning back. He was too
far gone.
Now if he could just get his hands on her.
****
Charlotte tried to focus on the pleasure his body
brought her, but her mind refused to let her. And
her heart simply wasn’t in it. This wasn’t what she
wanted.
She had ignored his pleas, even closed her eyes
to the obvious pain she inflicted. She had
manipulated his body’s response with moves only a
eunuch could resist. But it wasn’t enough. She
wanted—no, needed—his participation. She needed
him to want her as much as she did him.
Pausing halfway through an upward stroke, she
looked at him. Judging from his contorted features
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and the way he strained against his bindings, that
was never going to happen. He would fight to the
end.
She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t force him to have
sex with her. What would that prove when it was so
clear he didn’t want to? That she was capable of
rape?
The weight of her body, not to mention her
shame, carried her back down until he once more
filled her. She’d wanted him for so long and hated to
give him up. Yet, over and over again, he’d said no.
But why?
There’s one thing I want more
.
Panic filled her. Was he still holding out for a
relationship? Why wouldn’t he just accept what she
offered? Intimacy without commitment. Sex without
strings. Wasn’t that what all men wanted?
But then, Marcus wasn’t like most other men.
He would never force a woman once she made it
plain, as he had done, she didn’t want to continue.
A bucket of ice water couldn’t have chilled her
more as she realized she was no better than the men
she loathed. Instead of turning into her mother as
she’d feared, the unthinkable had happened. She
had turned into her father. This was the exact sort of
thing he would condone.
Sickened, she reached over Marcus’s head to
untie his wrists. The moisture of unshed tears stung
her eyes, making it difficult to see. His continued
struggle didn’t help either. “Stop. You’re just making
the knot tighter.”
“Hurry, damn you.”
His eagerness hurt, but she tried to do as he
asked. “I’m sorry.” His chest heaved with each
breath, making her wobble. “Let me get up.”
“No, don’t,” he bit out, apparently still close to
the edge and fighting it. The knot began to unravel,
and he yanked one hand free.
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“There.” She sat back, desperate to leave now,
before he had the other untied. She couldn’t face his
disgust or another deserved rejection.
Marcus sprang upright, startling her. One arm
snaked around her waist, hauling her flush against
him. His other hand fisted in her hair. “Damn you
for this.”
His mouth covered hers, his tongue plunging
deep, mimicking the thrust of his hips. Her cry of
surprise turned to a whimper of ecstasy when he
repeated the action. It occurred to her that she
should stop him, tell him she’d changed her mind
and was ready to give up this foolish game of
seduction. All it would take would be to remind him
he really didn’t want this, that she’d driven him to
it. But his kiss was like a drug and her body, still
burning, refused to obey.
Joining his tongue in its mating dance, the low
simmer in the pit of her belly rose to a slow boil. She
wrapped her arms around him and tried to grind her
hips.
“No,” he growled as he tore his mouth from hers.
His big hands gripped her waist, lifting her to
unsheathe himself.
She wanted to scream. Was it his intent to
deliberately feed her desire, then leave her empty
and aching? Of course, it was no more than she
deserved, but still. “Please, Marcus.”
“Not yet.”
He moved her slightly over and grunted when
his hard length jabbed her left butt cheek as he
settled her, still straddling him, into the crevice of
his hip. He eased her back until she reclined against
his free leg, bent at the knee. One hand retained its
hold on her hip, the other spanned her belly then
smoothed its way between her breasts. “So
beautiful.”
The rough pad of his thumb circled her puckered
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nipple. She shivered. “Marcus?”
His dark green gaze, filled with want and
promise, met hers. “Soon.”
Charlotte closed her eyes, secure in the
knowledge that he would see this through. Even if
he denied himself, as he had that night so long ago,
he would give her what she needed. It wasn’t what
she wanted, for herself or for him, but at this point
she couldn’t argue.
Yes, she would hate herself later, but right now
all that mattered was the hot need that rippled
through her as he rolled one nipple between his
thumb and forefinger and laved the other with his
tongue. She arched her back and grabbed a handful
of his thick black hair to urge him closer, but he
continued to tease her, cupping, molding her breasts
to his desire, nipping with his teeth, licking then
blowing softly. Finally, he took her fully in his
mouth and sucked hard.
Shards
of
fire
splintered
through
her,
converging between her legs. She moaned and
squirmed in his lap, searching for relief. She found a
moment’s ease by rocking against his hip before he
once again gripped with both hands and held her
still.
She whimpered in protest, confused as to why
he would prolong his own agony. It didn’t make
sense when she was clearly on the brink of orgasm.
One touch and she would explode. He would be free
to walk away.
His mouth left her breasts and grazed a path to
the base of her throat. His breath fanned the side of
her neck then her ear. “I want you, Charlotte. I need
you.”
Her heart fluttered, but she reined it in. He’d
admitted wanting her so often then held back, she
couldn’t allow her hopes to skyrocket only to
plummet when he rejected her again. Yet she
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wouldn’t discourage him either. “What are you
waiting for?”
He raised his head, pinning her with a fiery
stare. “I’ve waited five years for this.”
“Does that mean you’re—we’re—”
He rolled to his side, taking her with him, and
suddenly she was on her back with him nestled
between her thighs. His fingers twined with hers
beside her head. “It means I’m not rushing things.”
His lips slanted over hers in a kiss that stole her
breath. Hot, wet, coaxing her return to the pinnacle
where she’d stood moments ago. He angled his hips,
and she felt the head of his erection penetrate her.
“I want it all.” He pulled out and pushed
forward again, stopping half way this time before
retreating. “I want everything.”
He plunged to the hilt. Her muscles clamped
around him. She bit back a moan, waiting for him to
withdraw again. He kissed her again, slow and
sweet. “Everything, Charlotte. No more holding
back.”
He held her gaze and began to rock. Though
frightened of the intensity she saw there, she drew
her knees up and opened herself to receive him more
fully.
He groaned. “That’s it. But I want more.”
Untangling their fingers, he braced himself
above her and drove deeper. A jolt of icy-hot fire shot
down her thighs. She dug her heels into the mattress
and met his agonizingly slow thrusts.
“More.”
She fisted the sheet and threw back her head,
afraid to let go, yet just as afraid—if not more so—to
resist. The pleasure was almost painful. But not
near as painful as the crack forming in the hard
shell around her heart.
“Don’t fight it.” Each gravelly word strained
between clenched teeth. Perspiration beaded his
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forehead, chest, and straining arms. “Give it to me.
Everything you are.”
She shook her head. He didn’t know what he
was asking. “It’s too much.”
“It’s not enough.” He paused and reached
between their bodies. His thumb found her clit and
pressed. Her muscles contracted around him. He
plunged again and again, increasing the pace,
rotating, thrusting, slamming into her. “It’s not
enough.”
A wave of ecstasy crashed in on her, originating
at the place he touched deep inside and spiraling
outward until her entire being throbbed. Then
something even greater burst inside her. Something
that had nothing to do with physical satisfaction.
Something so achingly sweet and beautiful, it hurt
to look at him.
Yet she couldn’t not look. He was magnificent,
his sculpted features dark and sensual, as he
watched her watching him, postponing his release
until hers began to ebb. Then he thrust one last
time, threw back his head and shouted her name.
When the last shuddering pulse faded, he
lowered himself to his elbows and buried his face in
the crook of her shoulder. “It’ll never be enough.”
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It’ll never be enough.
Charlotte stared at the ceiling, Marcus’s weight
pressing her into the mattress. He was right.
In all her experience, which wasn’t as much as
he believed, she’d never known anything close to
what they had just shared. No one had ever made
her feel the closeness, the almost spiritual bonding
he had. And now that she had known his most
intimate touch, this brief moment with him would
never be enough.
What a fool she’d been to think making love
with Marcus would get him out of her system.
Instead, he had burrowed deeper, made her want
more. So much more. He’d made her consider the
impossible, such as exploring the relationship he’d
hinted at so many times. It probably wouldn’t last,
but then a short time was better than no time with
Marcus. And she might even succeed in finally
ridding herself of this irritating attraction.
Definitely a fool. And yet...
Biting her lip, Charlotte lifted a hand to caress
the damp hair at the back of his neck, but he rolled
off her to sit on the edge of the bed, elbows on his
knees, head in hands. “I can’t believe I did this.”
Her hand fell to the sheet as guilt rose again to
choke her. Geez, how could she have forgotten how
hard he’d struggled to maintain control of his body’s
needs? She didn’t have to close her eyes to picture
his face, pinched with anger, before he’d given in. He
might have enjoyed the sex once he let go, embraced
every moment of passion with fierce abandon while
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it lasted, but he regretted it now.
Just as she had intended.
Shrugging off her doubts, she dismissed the
insane notion of forgoing her original plan. This
wasn’t the time to start second guessing herself. She
needed to make sure he didn’t change his mind. Or
hers.
She swiped away the tears she’d fought all night
and forced a satisfied purr in her voice. “I can’t
believe it either. You really are as good as they say.
Better actually.”
His hands stilled in his hair, fingers tightening
at the roots. The taut muscles of his tanned back
and shoulders, damp and glistening in the lamp
light, stiffened.
“And if it wasn’t enough for you, I’m good for
round two anytime you’re ready.” She swallowed the
rising nausea and waited for his reaction. When
none came, she rolled to her side and laid a hand at
the base of his spine. “I could tie you up again.”
He shot off the bed. “Don’t.”
“Is that a no?” Watching him discard the condom
in the waste basket and grab his jeans off the floor,