Authors: Naima Simone
Rowyn circled a fingertip around his nipple, then raked a nail over the puckered tip. He sucked in a lungful of air, and his gut clenched. The dusky peaks may have been smaller than her nipples, but they were no less sensitive. He wanted her mouth on him.
As if hearing his wish, she dipped her head to his chest and lapped at his flesh. He hissed in pleasure and clasped her head to him. She coiled her tongue around the hard bump, flicking and sucking.
“Here,” he ordered and didn’t wait way for her to obey, but steered her head to the neglected tip. As she closed her teeth around it, he couldn’t contain his rumble of pleasure. The woman’s mouth should have been labeled a lethal weapon—lethal to his control, lethal to his sanity. Lethal to his soul.
He tugged her head up and crushed a kiss to her mouth. At the same time, he walked her backward until she bumped the edge of the mattress. As soon as she fell on the bed, he covered her—his mouth continued to maraud hers, his chest pressing her breasts, his thighs bracketing her legs, his cock grinding into the soft give of her stomach.
Rowyn tipped her chin up, disconnecting their mouths. She dragged in much-needed air. “Darius,” she pleaded, clutching his firm ass, biting into the taut flesh with her fingernails, and silently begging for the deeper, harder stroke of his cock in her pussy. She felt so empty; she needed to be penetrated, opened, stretched—filled. Her hips writhed underneath his, and she tried to shift upward and maneuver his rigid length over her sex.
“No,” he objected, nipping her jaw. “Not yet. I want to eat your sweet pussy before I fuck it.” The blunt, sexual words almost hurtled her into orgasm. Her pussy spasmed; her womb clenched. “Tell me you want it, sweetheart. Tell me you want my tongue deep inside you.”
“Yes.” She moaned the reply, and as Darius slid down her body, planting kisses between her breasts and on her stomach, she scratched his back and shoulders. “Please, Dar—”
The first swipe of his tongue through her slit tore a piercing scream from her throat. Her back arched off the mattress, and he grasped her hips to hold her still for his mouth. His hungry rumble vibrated in her sex.
“God, it’s good.” He stabbed at her clit with his tongue, then curled it around the sensitive nub. She jolted beneath him, and he tightened his grip. Ruthlessly he lashed and suckled, driving her to the very brink before drawing her back, only to start all over again. Yet when he tilted her hips at a higher angle and slanted his head to thrust his tongue into the entrance to her pussy, she came undone.
Pleasure consumed her, coursed through her like a living thing. It seemed as if she became a being without thought, one who existed solely on feeling and emotion. She writhed and bucked, hoarse cries falling from her lips and punctuating the wet sounds of his suction on her pussy. Against her protests, he withdrew from her sheath. After murmuring a low reassurance, he latched on to her clit once more and buried two fingers in her pussy. Rowyn released a strangled cry and rocked her hips in time to the hard thrusts.
“Darius,” she begged, clawing at the bedsheets. “Please let me come. I need to…” The tempo increased—he flicked faster and finger-fucked her harder. The orgasm swirled low in her back, her pelvis. Like a runaway train picking up speed, it rocketed closer and closer until…
She screamed. Her body stiffened, jerked. Release rolled through her, over her. Darius nursed it, lapping at her clit, stimulating her sex with slow, shallow stabs of his fingers, bringing her down but also building the pleasure up again.
“I need to be inside you,” he growled and jackknifed off the bed. In seconds he’d grabbed his pants off the floor, then removed his wallet and the condom tucked in the fold. With movements that betrayed his urgency, he sheathed his cock with the latex and climbed back onto the mattress. He knelt between her spread legs and rubbed his hands up her calves to her inner thighs. He brushed the crease where her legs and torso met with his fingertips. “Wider, sweetheart. Open up for me.”
Heart pounding, she stared up at him and submitted to his command. Anticipation—and just a bit of feminine apprehension—fluttered in her stomach. But the hunger to have his cock spread her with its special burn, taking her to that delicious edge that rode pain and pleasure, overrode everything else. She needed it—longed for it.
“Please,” she whispered and held her arms outstretched to him, inviting him into her embrace. Her personal space. She wanted to breathe him in, the scent of sand and sex that clung to his skin. Darius accepted the invite, sliding over her and melding his mouth to hers in a kiss that spoke of lust and passion. Yet the tender glide of his lips—once, twice before his tongue plunged deep—hinted at a gentleness that exceeded need.
He pressed his chest to her breasts, and she couldn’t help but subtly twist her torso to rub her hard, aching nipples over his muscles. She gasped as the spear of pleasure shot directly from the stiff tips to her pulsing clit. With a tilt of her pelvis, she stroked her drenched folds over his cock. The pressure dragged a long moan from her.
Darius continued to make love to her mouth as he planted his hands on either side of her head and levered his torso off hers. A moment later, Rowyn felt the first probing of his cockhead against her pussy.
Finally.
She tore her mouth away from his and turned her head to the side, eyes squeezed shut.
“Uh-uh.” The low, sexy tone licked over her skin seconds before his tongue blazed a path up her neck to nip her earlobe. “Don’t turn away. It’s you and me.”
“I’m not turning away.” She contradicted his assumption. Rowyn returned her gaze to his and drank in the gleaming blue eyes, kiss-swollen lips, flushed cheekbones, and hard jaw. “I just want to remember every moment. For later.”
He stared down at her, silent for several long seconds. Then he lowered his lashes, bent his head, brushed a soft caress over her brow—and thrust forward.
She gasped. Her neck arched, and she clutched his arms in a hang-on-for-dear-life grip. So full. God, so good.
“I want in, Rowyn,” he demanded softly in her ear. “Six months, sweetheart. I want in now.” He nipped the curve of her ear and laid a kiss just below her lobe, steadily surging forward and withdrawing. With each thrust and retreat, he claimed more of her pussy. The heavy weight of his cock and the power of each stroke stretched her, and she felt her sex quiver around his hard stalk. He gave her less time to become accustomed to the invasion, but Rowyn found she didn’t need it. No, she’d longed for that steady pleasure-pain burn and welcomed it now.
“That’s it.” The praise delivered in the tender but rough voice thrilled her, arrowing a shaft of pleasure from her heart to the hot, wet place he fucked with determination. “Damn, you’re tight. And so wet. A little more, sweetheart. Just a little…”
He gave a powerful flex of his hips and groaned. His body stiffened over her. The mask of passion that claimed his face—lips drawn into a tight line, teeth clenched so hard, a tiny muscle jumped along the strong line of his jaw—captured her fascination. Nostrils flared, and dark lashes lowered in a hooded, sensual stare that had her pussy clenching around his fully embedded cock. A long, low hiss escaped his lips, and blue fire leaped in his eyes.
She lifted her legs and locked her ankles just above his tight ass. A raw, hungry sound rumbled in his chest, and as he shifted, his heavy sac grazed the stretched folds of her sex. It was just another sensation to add to the sensory overload she found herself tossed into. She stared into the face of desire, her pussy filled to capacity with it. She took in a deep breath and inhaled the scent of sex from his skin—and still she craved more.
“Are you okay?” he asked. She registered the question, but how the hell did he expect her to answer when he did that circle thing with his hips, setting her clit on a one-way ticket to orgasm? She couldn’t reply, so instead she squeezed the muscles in her sex, clamping down on his cock. When he grunted above her, Rowyn figured he received his answer.
“Fuck,” he muttered and proceeded to do just that—fuck her. He rode her hard, offering no mercy. Not that she would have requested any. With every long, plunging stroke of his cock he shoved her closer to the precipice of release. She cried out, sobbing her pleasure that penetrated not only her flesh, but her heart, her soul.
The mattress bounced beneath them; the headboard banged out the wild rhythm he set with his driving hips. And she held on to him through it all, trusting where he would take her. And as the orgasm swelled, it seemed almost frightening in its intensity, in its power. Yet she threw herself headfirst into the blaze, knowing—believing—he would be there to catch her.
Chapter Six
“The prince chased her, but outside the palace, the guards had seen only a simple country wench leave. The prince pocketed the slipper and vowed to find and marry the girl to whom it belonged.”—
Cinderella
“Not this shit again.”—Darius Fiore
The aroma of freshly brewing coffee tickled his nose, and Darius inhaled.
Damn. Smelling it was like foreplay to the main event—that first delicious cup.
He reached over his head, opened the cupboard door, and removed two of the mugs the hotel provided. As he waited for the pot to finish, he glanced toward the closed bedroom door. He regretted not leaving it open so he could look in on the sleeping figure of the woman who’d shared his bed and her body last night. Unlike the previous time they’d been together, he’d woken up next to her this morning. A grin curved his lips. Who would’ve guessed Rowyn Jeong was a cuddler?
The last of the coffee trickled into the pot, and after filling both ceramic cups with the dark brew, he added cream and sugar to one and left the other black. On bare feet, he turned and exited the small kitchenette, mugs in hand. He’d barely made it across the living area when a knock sounded on the hotel room door. Frowning, he shot a glance at the digital clock on the kitchenette counter. 7:56 a.m. Who could that be?
Darius set the steaming cups on the small table beside the couch and headed toward the door. With a twist of his wrist he had the lock unbolted and the door opened. Surprise sang through him.
Cindy Harrison.
Rowyn’s younger sister smiled up at him, lovely and fresh in a yellow summer dress that complemented her caramel skin. Her dark hair curled around her shoulders and framed a face that most likely mesmerized every man she met.
Except him.
She didn’t have hair that fell down her back in a waterfall of dark silk. Her eyes, while a very pretty hazel, didn’t possess the striking tilt of the outer corners. Nor were they the beautiful, mysterious brown that could gleam with passion or blaze with anger. Cindy’s petite slenderness couldn’t compare to the statuesque, curvy body that seemed built for fucking…for loving.
No. Cindy, with her traditional loveliness, didn’t hold a torch—fuck, a candle—to her older sister.
“Can I come in?” she asked, flashing the dimples in her cheeks.
“Of course.” Darius shifted back and allowed enough room for her to enter the hotel suite. Her gaze dropped and flicked over his bare chest and the black pants he’d dragged on but had left unbuttoned. Hell, he’d intended to wear them only long enough to make coffee. Spending the morning making love to Rowyn didn’t require clothes.
“I woke you,” she apologized, stepping past him. “I wanted to catch you before you started your day.”
“No, it’s fine,” Darius said.
As long as we get this over with quickly.
“What can I do for you?”
Cindy wheeled around on her dainty heels, her smile widening. “I’d like to invite you to breakfast and then show you our beautiful city.”
The irony that her ploy mirrored the one he’d sprung on Rowyn the day before amused him. At least he’d brought coffee, while Cindy had shown up empty-handed.
“That’s very considerate of you, but actually, I toured Boston yesterday.” He slid his hands into the front pockets of his pants. “And you’re right. Your city is beautiful.”
“Oh.” She pouted, and he had a hard time determining if her disappointment was genuine. “Well, the offer for breakfast is still open. I would love to treat you to a hot meal and spend time getting to know you before you leave.” She moved closer to him, lowering her lids as she raised a hand and laid her fingers on his chest. “We won’t have an opportunity to be alone at Daddy’s party tonight.” She lifted her lashes and traced a small pattern over his skin. “I really would like that…quality time with you.”
Well…shit. Wasn’t this just…awkward.
“Cindy,” he said and moved backward. Her arm fell to her side, and a faintly puzzled frown creased her brow, as if she couldn’t comprehend his lack of response to her touch. “I appreciate the offer. I do. But I have to decline. Thank you, though.”
“I don’t understand—” Then she narrowed her gaze on the table beside him. The table where he’d place the two coffee mugs before answering the door. A moment of silence passed as her scrutiny skipped over the couch and—dammit—landed on the discarded clothes that draped across the sofa arm.
Fuck.
Her hazel eyes returned to him. He braced himself for indignation and was taken aback by the delight that twinkled in her eyes. She smiled, and an inexplicable sense of foreboding quivered in his stomach.
“It seems I do understand after all,” she murmured. “Rain check on the breakfast? Maybe the next time you’re in town?”
Darius nodded, still confused by her reaction, but the man in him, who cringed at the thought of female hysterics, was grateful. “Count on it.”
“I’ll see you tonight, then.” She turned and, with a wiggle of her fingers, waved good-bye and left the suite.
Darius remained rooted next to the couch. Bemused, he stared at the spot where Cindy had stood. And he’d considered Rowyn an enigma. Apparently her stepsister shared that trait. With a shrug he picked up the still-warm cups and headed toward the bedroom. And the woman sleeping there. And thoughts of waking her up with coffee. Followed by hours of sex, sweat, and tangled sheets.