Curve Struck (A Celebrity Stepbrother Romance) (10 page)

She craned her neck as proto-planets spun in hot discs, slowly forming spheres that released plumes of magma that cooled and were soon overtaken by seas and land masses.

Declan shifted, his legs stretching diagonally out from his corner as his feet encroached on the section of couch he had promised to stay away from. Peeling her eyes from the screen, she looked at him.

His soft smile melted her bones.

Taking one of the pillows, he placed it against his side, the fluffy rectangle of fabric and stuffing both a slight barrier and an open invitation.

"This isn't talking things out."

He shrugged, still smiling. "Because you don't feel safe yet."

He patted the pillow. "You won't have to bend your neck like that to watch it on the ceiling. Which is the best way to watch in my experience."

Feeling the last of her willpower slide onto the floor and scurry under the door to play Foosball with her sense of self-preservation, Melanie wiggled along the cushion then rested her back against the pillow.

They settled into silence, their bodies progressively relaxing. The video moved from the largest to the smallest objects in the universe before blossoming outward again.

"How long is it?" she asked. "I feel like I could watch it forever."

"I've got almost ten hours of visuals."

Finding the remote, he jumped ahead to where someone walked through a wheat field, the sex and age indeterminate and little of the person visible beyond the white silk scarf that trailed in the air.

"There's a 3D version," he offered. "I'd have to change discs and pull out the glasses."

"No," she answered softly, knowing that, if he got up, she'd emotionally retreat again.

He smoothed a lock of hair behind her ear, exposing the skin for him to lightly trace a finger along. "Maybe next time."

She didn't answer, just let his suggestion linger. He kept playing with her hair, his nails gently skimming along her scalp. The sensation made her sleepy at the same time it sent a tingling sensation running down her neck and across her shoulders.

Melanie brought her hand up, absently trying to quell the race of electricity his touch produced. Gently capturing her hand, he lifted it to his mouth and kissed the back of her fingertips.

"I want to make love to you before you run off to London -- before you even commit to going."

He said it so softly she thought she might have fallen asleep, dreaming the rest of the video and his words, but she knew she was awake.

"Do you hate him?"

She felt that, if she could understand his feelings about Roger, she would be able to make sense of what was happening between her and Declan.

"I barely even know him," he confessed. "He claims he didn't know about me until a friend of his from childhood saw one of my films and remarked on the similarities. He checked my bio and saw my mother's name. That was after
Alpine's
release."

Three years ago, she thought. Declan had starring roles before the film, but it was his first lead in a bona fide Hollywood blockbuster.

"I thought he was just like every other celebrity parent crawling out of the woodwork -- but it turns out he has at least as much money as I do."

Melanie looked around the room, knowing it had likely cost him a million dollars to customize, especially with the second display on the ceiling.

"I don't think my mom realizes that. I mean, she knows he has some bookstores. She described the one he took her to as 'quaint' when I talked to her on the phone Sunday."

"She doesn't seem like the kind who would care." Rotating Melanie's hand, Declan kissed her palm, his lips staying long enough for her to feel their warmth even after his mouth retreated. "Neither do you."

She thought about what Declan was saying. Not his assessment of her or Nancy but the fact that his father was rich and claimed not to have known about him. She knew from Declan's bio that he'd been raised by his mother, Skye Bain, in South Boston, one of the area's poorer sections.

During filming on the last set, she had tried to look up his mother, wondering what kind of beauty she must have been, but the woman didn't seem to exist beyond Declan's biography and an alumni list for some fancy prep school.

"Is...is your mother still alive?"

His fingers wove in and out of hers. She had been timid in getting the question out, but she knew he'd heard her. Freeing her hand, she rolled onto her side to see his face in the light of the two screens. He didn't avoid her gaze but met it head on, his expression as raw and powerful as always.

"When?"

"The summer following my sophomore year at college."

She would have guessed as much since he hadn't returned for his junior year.

She struggled with the issue of asking him how his mother had died. It was prying and rude and none of her business. Abandoning the idea, she rested her head on his chest, her ear unintentionally placed where she could hear his heart beating slow and steady.

His hand stroked absently at her back, down her shoulder blades to the top curve of her ass, lifted, touched down again at the top of her shoulders and repeated the trip. The rhythm began to lure her into sleep.

If she'd been awake enough, she would have laughed at herself. On a sofa, trading secrets with a man so beautiful it hurt to look at him, and she was falling asleep!

It wasn't his gentle tracing of her curves that pulled Melanie from her stupor. It was the change in his heartbeat, the way it accelerated as hers grew sluggish.

She lifted her head and looked at him. He studied her face for a second before sighing. "You should probably return to your bedroom. It's been a hard day for you. We can talk tomorrow."

Melanie lowered her head to his chest once more, one fingernail tracing the contour of his upper abdominals, the compression t-shirt hugging him so tightly she could see their outline even in the low light from the screens.

"Mel..." he started before he had to stop and swallow something down. "You really should go to your room."

Closing her eyes, she let her finger trace lower and whispered the question that had been knocking around inside her head since moving over to his side of the couch.

"What if I don't want to?"

Declan didn't answer -- not immediately and not with words when he did. For a few seconds, he did nothing more than stroke one finger along the bridge of his nose, just as he had done in the limo. Then he patted along the ottoman for the remote. Jumping ahead a couple of chapters on the disc, he plunged them into magma traveling deep within an early earth. The sound playing over the speakers was rolling, hot and undeniably liquid in nature.

Turning on his side, he opened up more room between his body and the back of the couch so that she sunk a little into the cushions to be cradled against him. He smoothed the back of his fingers across her cheek then cupped her face while his thumb stroked at the sensitive underside of her chin.

She could only imagine, at that moment, how good his hands would feel elsewhere on her body.

The light from the screens, all dark reds and oranges with flashes of yellow, was to Declan's back, throwing his face in complete shadow. It was better that way, she knew. She wouldn't be able to study his face for clues that this only real for her.

Instead, she had to read his touch and, at that moment, it was slow and tender in a way that soon had her arching her back. He had touched her on the plane, but she had retreated inside, tried desperately not to feel the arousal that had coursed through her. She had retreated during that first limo ride, too, even if his touch had quickly brought her to climax.

This time, she wanted to feel it fully.

Reaching one hand up, she curled her fingers in his hair and lightly tugged at it in invitation. Accepting her offer, Declan lowered his mouth. His lips ghosted across her cheekbone, then down to the corner of her mouth. She could feel his breath, warm and moist, escape his parted lips.

She opened to him, giving his tongue access. Her arms folded around his shoulders, all of her limbs beginning to tremble with need.

Declan was slow and strategic, warming her up with the kiss, one hand wrapped lightly around her throat as his tongue teasingly explored her mouth. He tickled her upper palate with a long, firm lick that rolled through her body like a wave, lifting her breasts and then her hips.

Her fingertips dug against his back for purchase. She needed his touch everywhere at once. Her pussy ached from the way he held her throat, his hand molded around her flesh. Her hips beginning to dance, she whimpered into his mouth.

Breaking the kiss, he rubbed his lips along her neck and ear, lightly pinching her flesh with them as he growled. His hand left her throat to tangle his fingers in her hair, tugging at it as he groaned at her.

"So fucking hot, baby girl."

She felt like the magma churning on the twin screens, her thighs prickling and burning with need, her lower lips dripping wet, her juices spreading out as she squirmed and whimpered some more.

"Help me get your top off," he coaxed, parting from her with another groan to help her into a sitting position. Seizing the hem, he pulled it upward. She lifted her arms, the blouse peeling away.

"Score," he laughed playfully upon seeing light flash off the front closure of her bra.

Hands on Melanie's shoulders, he eased her onto her back once more then partly draped his big body over hers, his thick, muscular thighs wedged between her legs, the position doing nothing to calm the dancing of her hips.

Quite the opposite. Her mound pressed upward against his solid mass, her whole body wiggling with need. Her eyelids were already heavy but tugging upward. She would have to fight not to come before he even had his cock out.

"It's okay to go wild, Mel." He pinched the closure of her bra open then smoothed his hand underneath the fabric to palm her breast. "I want you to be wild with me."

With him, yes, she wanted that, too, wanted to feel him slamming against her, inside her, the fat shaft she'd seen hints of stretching and filling her far beyond the point where her mind splintered.

Reaching between them, she cupped his cock as she pushed her breasts upward with a silent demand. Groaning, a quiver running through him, Declan lowered his mouth to the front panel of her bra and the pouting nipple hiding beneath the fabric.

Squeezing her other breast, he chewed at the nipple, his saliva turning the material dark as light flashed on the screens. She gripped his cock, squeezing when he squeezed. Her moans came faster, stumbling into one another, tangling together.

"Declan," she rasped as she fought against the orgasm already claiming her body.

The few lovers she'd had in her life could struggle for an hour and not have her this feverish. Even her own touch had to work long and hard to bring her to a few seconds of abandon. Declan had her ready to explode and he hadn't even touched her pussy.

Growling, he crowded her hand away from his cock, shifting his hips so she couldn't reach it. Rolling, he covered her, a knee on each side so that she was happily trapped between his legs. Next, he freed her arms and breasts from the thin caging of her bra, then slid his knees down even with hers.

One arm holding his weight off her, he captured her breast with his free hand and brought his lips to her nipple, slowly sucking the tip and then the whole of the areola into his mouth as his hips began to dance, his cock rubbing at her through their layers of clothing.

More and more of her juices spread, her pussy hot and lubricated. The needy knots twisting inside her left Melanie breathless. She worked her arms free and reached down again, her fingers forcing their way past the elastic band of his running pants and the boxers beneath to wrap eagerly around the long, fat cock stroking so relentlessly against her.

Declan jerked once then bit lightly at her nipple in warning.

"I see I'm going to have to put it out of reach for a while longer, baby girl."

She mewled, the sound a begging apology, but he did not retract the threat. Sliding down her body, he tugged her pants and underwear off.

"I can smell how ready you are," he moaned, his head hovering over her wet pussy. "Now let me taste."

Yes, yes, and hell yes.

Melanie writhed along the couch as his mouth sealed over her clit. He suckled, his head moving in slow circles that massaged her labia while his tongue worked the electric spine of her sex.

She lost herself in the sweet erotic nuzzling of his mouth against her flesh. Her fingers itched with the burning need to wrap around his skull and force him closer. Fighting the urge, her hands settled on her heavy breasts, squeezing them and twisting the nipples until they were as swollen and aching as her pussy.

"Please," she fever whispered, marveling at how he expertly held her at the edge of slamming into the last wall of her release. "Please, Declan."

Reaching down, she pressed her palms against his head, her hips lifting her mound upward as a strangled cry of need clawed and echoed in her throat.

He shook free, his mouth pulling away from her throbbing clit as he hooked three fingers just inside the gate of her pussy. With his grip on Melanie's sex keeping her locked in an upward thrust, Declan positioned himself over her, his mouth coming down hard on hers.

His tongue fucked its way slow and sweet into her mouth as his fingers ventured thick and deep inside her. Lips and hand were relentless. He put his entire body into driving her wild, his hips pushing rhythmically to aid his arm, the thrusting, twisting fingers leveraging the momentum of his rocking.

Melanie moaned into his mouth, her ears assaulted by her own sounds, the slick juices of her pussy, the squelching from how tight and wet she was, the slap of flesh as his body moved against hers. That last sound made her desperate and crying for her cock in him. She wanted to hear the sound of his balls hitting against her as he fucked hard and deep into her pussy.

The non-stop quiver that had vibrated through her built to a roar, her body whipping erratically. Her mouth became dangerous and Declan abandoned it, his lips and teeth seizing on her shoulder, the bite firm but gentle as his fingers plunged one last time and held.

Melanie rode the thick triangle, hips slamming upward at a reckless angle. Her neck arched, freeing the scream that kept her from breaking into a million pieces, and then she went limp.

And started crying.