Covenant (Paris Mob Book 1) (9 page)

H
e didn't try
to talk himself out of it. He’d had a taste of her, and he knew now that possessing her was the only way to banish her from his mind. It was always like that with the truly lovely things, he reminded himself as they walked. His psyche reacted to them completely independent of his free will. It might be a fine oil painting, a lovely seventeenth century armoire, an Art Deco divan. There was no rhyme or reason to the things he felt obliged to possess. The one thing they had in common was his insatiable desire to own them.

This was no different, he reasoned. He would possess her body. Then she would have no hold on him.

In the meantime, she was lovely, and he allowed himself to enjoy the gentle pressure of her tucked into his side, the faint scent of roses, almond oil, and arousal rising from her body. Her breathing had been labored just before he’d kissed her, her chest rising and falling, her lips parted in invitation. He’d known then that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

That she wanted to possess him, too.

It was all right. They both liked fine things.

They hurried into the doors of the hotel lobby, and Christophe headed straight for the elevators. He’d been hard since the moment his lips had touched hers. Now he was aching for her, and he tried to calm his body, determined to take his time.

They stepped into the elevator. He was toying with the idea of kissing her again when a foursome crowded inside just before the doors closed. Now he was behind her, her back pressed against his chest, her ass providing just enough pressure to his throbbing cock that he had an all-too-vivid image of lifting her dress, pulling aside her panties, driving deep inside her then and there.

She moved back ever so slightly as the elevator ascended, the others in the elevator chatting about dinner, laughing about a friend who had gotten too drunk.

Was she pressing back against him on purpose now?

He stifled a groan, watching the numbers move on the digital panel as the elevator rose.

3… 4… 5… 6… 7… 8…

Finally the elevator glided to a stop. The doors opened, and the group exited amid high spirited laughter. He waited for the doors to close to spin Charlotte around, pressing her back against the interior of the elevator, nudging her legs open with his knee, pressing his cock against her as he lowered his mouth to hers, taking possession of it with his tongue.

She moaned, pressing against his cock through his pants as she plunged her tongue into his mouth, sweeping and searching, pulling back to bite down on his lip with just enough force to make his cock pulse with desire.

He gasped. The doors slid open and he lifted her into his arms, carrying her into the suite as she wrapped her arms around his neck, her eyes searching his with an intensity that was far more dangerous than what she was doing to his body.

The suite was dark, and he passed through the living room and headed straight for the bedroom that was his. The windows were as big here as they were in the main room, the city glittering in the darkness, casting shimmering light into the darkened room.

He stopped in front of the bed, slipped off her shoes with one hand, then lowered her gently to the plush carpet until she was standing in front of him.

His heart caught in his throat at the sight of her, lips swollen and parted, chest flushed. Some of her hair had come loose from the knot at the back of her head, and he longed to pull out the pins, watch the rest of it fall around her slim shoulders, lower his mouth to her collarbone.

He took a step back, drawing in a breath as he paced away from her, turned to face her, this time with some distance between them. This was better. Here he could think. He could view her more objectively: another beautiful thing to possess instead of the woman he was beginning to see when he looked at her.

A woman of flesh and blood and pain and passion.

A woman that might seep into his skin, his blood, his bones.

A woman that might be his undoing.

He paced in front of her, studying her with a critical eye as she watched him.

Her eyes flashed. “Let me make this easier for you.”

She reached up, let his jacket fall from her shoulders, slid off the straps of her dress so that the slip of fabric fell to the floor. Then she was before him in nothing but a tiny pair of black panties, her breasts bare, the nipples dusky brown and hardened to points.

“Do I meet with your approval?”

He was surprised by the lack of bitterness in her voice. It was a simple question. Just a question from one lover of beauty to another.

And yet it pierced his heart. Did she think he was keeping his distance because he wasn’t attracted to her? Because she needed to pass an
inspection?

He strode toward her, reaching her in two long strides. Her nearly naked body was so close her nipples brushed against the front of her shirt, and his cock lurched in his pants, hardening even further.

He reached up a hand, undid the pins at the nape of her neck, then slid his hand into the luxurious fall of silken hair. “You’re the most exquisite thing I’ve ever seen.”

She lifted her hands and began unbuttoning his shirt, working the buttons slowly as she looked into his eyes. When she was done, she slid the shirt off his shoulders.

“Then show me,” she said.

S
he had been
nervous for a minute. He’d studied her so dispassionately, keeping his distance as his eyes roamed her body. Had he changed his mind?

But she didn’t think that was it. There was something else in his gaze. Something dark and maybe even a little frightened. Something that belied the dangerous man she knew him to be.

She ran her hands up his chest, as perfectly sculpted as any molded under the hands of Da Vinci. He took a fistful of the hair at the back of her neck, tugged her head back just forcefully enough to send a rush of wetness between her legs. Then he dropped his head to the nape of her neck, his breath a whisper against her skin.

She held still, letting her hands rest on his big arms as he touched his lips against her collarbone. His mouth left a trail of fire as he moved slowly up the side of her neck. Goosebumps rose on her arms at the exquisite torture of it, and she felt her nipples grow even harder as he reached the tender spot behind her ear.

He took her earlobe in his mouth and tugged, and she tipped her head to one side and closed her eyes, losing herself in the sensation of his mouth on her fevered skin.

He lifted a hand to one of her breasts, cupped it in his big hand as he kissed his way to her jawline, working his way slowly, too slowly toward her mouth. When he got there, he captured her lips with his, pinching her nipple between his fingers as he dove into her mouth with his tongue.

The kiss was slow, languid. But there was nothing gentle about it. It was the kiss of ownership. Of total possession. A kiss that made it clear he would leave no stone unturned on the landscape of her body.

She moaned into his mouth and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body against his bare chest. The touch of his bare skin on hers was electric, sending a wave of desire along every nerve ending in her body. He let his hands travel her body as he teased her mouth, charting new territory in every unexplored shadow. Their tongues parried, her hunger for him growing. She was like a long dead relic, brought to life under the hands of this man.

This man whose touch was like life-giving magic.

He kissed his way down her neck, and she let her head fall back as he kissed his way to the breast still cupped in his hand. She could hardly breathe as he approached the sensitive flesh, and she arched her back, desperate for him to take it in his mouth, Desperate to feel the warmth of it envelop her.

He chuckled against her skin, his breath hot as his tongue darted out to taste the aroused peak. He flicked his tongue against it, teasing it to a harder point until she thought she would die from the torture of it.

Then he opened his mouth, took it inside, sucked as he gently massaged the mound of flesh around it. His other hand snaked down her belly, slid into her panties, past her clit as he sought the wetness at her center.

“Oh, god…” The words escaped her mouth as he dipped a finger into the well at her center.

He was still sucking, taking breaks only to rake his teeth against the little bud as he moved his finger rhythmically inside her. The orgasm was already there, building at her core. Her hips had a mind of their own now, pumping against his finger, using the heel of his thumb to rub her clit.

She was in another place. A place where only her orgasm mattered.

Where her prime directive was to come.

She ground against him, her breath coming fast and shallow as he moved to the other breast, took it in his mouth, teased and licked and nibbled.

She was reaching for the peak, out of her mind with the need to come when he removed his fingers swiftly and completely.

“Not yet, beautiful,” he said. “Not yet.”

He lifted his hand to her lips and she opened her mouth, sucking on the finger, tasting her own arousal. His eyes darkened, and he lowered himself deliberately to his knees, looked up at her like a disciple worshiping at the alter of his god.

She looked down at him, the desire in his gaze turning her insides to molten liquid as he slid the panties from her hips, tossed them aside. He parted her legs, still looking into her eyes. Then he stroked the sensitive spot behind her knee as he touched his mouth to the skin on the inside of her thighs.

It was like being hit by lightning, and she felt her whole body short out, rational thought swept away on the tide of his mouth moving toward her center, nibbling the sensitive skin as he worked his way upward. She let her eyes flicker open, felt another swell of wetness in her pussy at the sight of his dark head poised between her legs. A shudder moved through her as he stroked the lips of her sex, wet and engorged with need.

“You’re so lovely, Charlotte,” he murmured. “So very lovely.”

She reached down with one hand, slipped her hands into his hair, resisting the urge to press his mouth against her throbbing flesh. Christophe Marchand was not a man who liked to be rushed.

He was a man who took his time. Who savored. In all things.

And she didn’t have to wait long. A moment later she felt the heat of his tongue flick against her clit. It was soft at first.

A touch. A tease.

Then he closed his mouth over it, lapping and licking, covering all of it with the heat of his tongue.

She moaned. “Oh, god… I can’t…"

He slid his fingers inside her, thrust them rhythmically in and out as he worked her clit with his mouth. She was moving against him again, her hips gyrating, the orgasm back and demanding to be given release.

He lifted his mouth from her clit, replaced it with the pad of his thumb. She trembled as he stroked the little seed, his fingers still moving inside her as he kissed her inner thigh.

“Are you ready to let me taste you, Charlotte?” he asked.

“Yes,” she gasped, moving against his hand.

“Look at me then.” She forced her eyes open, looked down at him between her legs, his fingers moving inside her, his eyes clouded with desire. “Come on my mouth, Charlotte.”

He lowered his lips to her again, closing them around her clit and sticking another finger inside her pussy, stroking and thrusting, the wet heat from his mouth enveloping her clit until she felt herself fall into the warmth, like tipping into a tropical lagoon, her whole body becoming liquid as it let go of its hold on time and space. A vicious shudder ripped through her, and then there was only white light behind her eyelids, the warmth of Christophe’s mouth on her like rays of the sun as she came and came, his mouth lapping up her juices like an animal desperate for water.

When the contractions subsided, she was almost embarrassed to find her fingers entwined in his hair.

Almost.

She’d been so lost to reality that she’d been pressing his face against her, using his mouth to reach her orgasm without inhibition.

But now she found that she didn’t care. Because she still wanted him.

She wanted him to fill her and fuck her. She wanted to see his naked body moving over hers, to look down and watch him move in and out of her.

She extended her hand to him. “Will you fuck me now?”

H
e rose to his feet
, lowered his face to within an inch of hers. She thought he would kiss her again. Instead he spoke.

“Lay down, Charlotte.”

The words were short and simple. There was no menace in them. And yet she felt a thrill of fear move through her. Fear mingled with need and lust and something dangerously primitive.

Something hungry.

She lay back on the bed, watched as he reached for his belt. He undid it slowly, his eyes on her the whole time. He pulled it out of the belt loops, threw it on the floor, unzipped his pants. He slid them off his hips along with his underwear, and she nearly gasped as his cock sprang free.

It was glorious, long and wide and perfectly formed, as magnificent as any piece of art. She knew how it would feel sliding into her wetness, pushing through the swollen channel of her pussy, gliding out of her before driving in all over again.

He climbed onto the bed at her feet, moving between her parted legs like an animal going in for the kill. He took one of her ankles in his hand, stroked the skin of her arch before closing his eyes and touching his lips to it.

The kiss was reverent, and she again had the image of a man at worship.

He lifted her other leg from the bed, draped her ankle over his shoulder. Stroking her thigh with his hand, he turned his face toward her calf, kissed it tenderly before nipping at the skin with his teeth.

The sight of him kneeling between her legs was erotic. Her sex responded, the pulse of need for him beating like a drum that had been only temporarily silent. He put her foot back on the bed, pushed her knees apart. Then he was crawling up her body, rubbing his nose along her legs on the way to her stomach, dipping his tongue into the well of her navel.

His cock was thick and swollen. It brushed against her clit as he moved up her body, lowered his mouth to hers, captured her lips in a kiss so fierce it stole her breath. She opened to him, locking one leg around his hip as she tasted her sex on his tongue, pressing her wet fire against the hard rod of his cock.

He moved against her, his cock sliding in between the lips of her pussy, teasing her clit at the top of the motion. She stroked his back, her fingertips exploring the sculpted cord of muscle on their way to his hard ass. She lifted her leg higher on his hips, sinking into the motion of their movements, her need to feel him inside her growing more desperate with every passing second.

He rose onto his knees, poised between her legs like a god. Then he lifted her ankles to his shoulders and positioned the head of his cock at her entrance. She reached for his hips, wanting to push him inside her.

“No.” He collected her wrists in one hand, lifted her arms above her body. He was stretched over her now, his body hard and hot against hers.

He looked into her eyes, something uncertain passing across his features. For a moment, she had the sudden fear that he would leave. That he would change his mind. That he hadn’t meant for any of this to happen.

Then he thrust into her, burying himself deep inside her with a victorious groan. She cried out, and he dragged his cock slowly out of her, pausing when only the tip was left inside her before thrusting into her again.

He dropped his head to her breast, took the nipple in his mouth, sucked hard as he drove into her again. Then he was moving against her, tunneling a path through her, his cock getting bigger and harder, stretching her to the limit as he occupied every inch of her. He was so big it almost hurt. But pain wasn’t the right word for what she felt as he rocked against her, his thrusts coming faster and harder as they reached the edge of the precipice together.

She could see the blue lagoon again, the pool of water waiting to envelop her body when she jumped. But this time she was taking him with her, and she thrust against him, working her clit against his body as his cock invaded her again and again. She could see the concentration on his face, felt him withholding, restraining himself as she came closer to the edge.

It wasn’t what she wanted. They were going to jump together.

“Come with me,” she gasped. “I need you to come inside me.” He groaned as the words escaped her lips, a kind of guttural howl that seemed to unleash whatever had been holding him back.

Then they were leaping together, falling through the fragrant air, disappearing into the warm pool of their release. He shuddered against her, thrusting viciously as he emptied himself into her. She let herself go, coming apart against his body as he dissolved into hers until she didn’t know where he ended and she began.