Red Red Wine (Tastes of Seduction) (14 page)

And with that he limped down the passageway, crossed the corridor that led back to the lobby and headed straight to Blake’s suite. His hand shook so badly, he had trouble inserting the key in the slot. He almost howled in relief when the door clicked open.

What he didn’t expect were the hands on his back, nudging him inside, or the soft, feminine voice that whispered in his ear as the door was pushed shut behind him.

“Show me.”

Andrew didn’t question her presence. He didn’t look like he had the ability to question anything. He just watched her walk past him with heavy-lidded eyes.

Tori had barely sat on his bed before he’d set the wine and glasses on the couch closest to him and freed his erection. It was long and hard and impressive, and a vein pulsed along its length.

Her mouth watered. God, he was gorgeous. In the darkness of night, she hadn’t been able to see his face, had relied only on her memories. But with the light shining down, Tori could do nothing but drink in the sight of him. His bewitching brown eyes were almost black with desire, his lips, so soft and sensual, pursed in a fierce scowl of need. And his hair, wavy and brown, was sexily mussed—by her hands.

Andrew palmed his erection, and by the looks of it, squeezed tight, his fingers turning white. “Show
me
,” he growled, gesturing with his free hand.

Tori, entranced by how fiercely he held himself, failed to react.

“Only fair, sweetheart. It’s your aroused pussy that got me into this condition…” He let out a hoarse moan and tugged at his cock, pulling his hand roughly along its length.

A fresh wave of desire rolled through her.

“Show. Me.” His teeth were gritted together, the muscles in his neck straining against his skin.

Tori didn’t hesitate. She shuffled backwards on the bed, drew one leg up and pulled the skirt of her dress over her hips, exposing herself to Andrew.

His appreciative moan echoed through the room, and he tugged hard on his cock again.

Tori brushed her hand over her inner thigh until she reached her pussy. She ran her finger upward and dipped it shallowly between her lips before holding it up, showing Andrew.

Moisture glistened on her finger.

Andrew groaned and collapsed onto the arm of the couch. “Pleasure yourself.”

It wasn’t a request, and a thrill of delight skittered up her spine. She ran her finger through her engorged, slick folds, sliding it from her pussy to her clit.

Andrew swallowed. “That is the…sexiest…fucking thing I’ve ever seen.” His face was red, his knuckles white.

“Your turn,” she whispered, incapable of projecting her voice any louder.

He gave a vicious shake of his head. “Gonna last all of ten seconds if I let go now.” Precome beaded on his tip.

“So you’re leaving it up to me?”

He opened his mouth to speak, then shook his head and shrugged, as if the very act was too taxing.

Tori’s core temperature shot up. Perspiration beaded on her forehead. God, she was hot. Overheating. The dress bunched around her waist annoyed her, the cotton more like thick, scratchy wool.

She drew her hand away from her pussy only long enough to pull the dress over her shoulders and tug it off, and then her hand was back and she was touching herself, almost naked before Andrew. The only item of clothing she wore was her bra.

Andrew’s expression was her undoing: the raw hunger in his gaze, the undisguised admiration in his eyes and the way his jaw dropped in appreciation.

Her inner muscles clenched, her pussy throbbed, and Tori let the sensuality of the moment take her. She ran her finger through her folds, caressing her slit, stroking her clit, sliding a digit inside her channel before stroking herself all over again.

“God… Jesus.” Andrew’s gaze was plastered to her hand, his breath coming in loud gasps.

She opened her legs wider and played to her heart’s content. She would have continued playing, teasing herself and him, had Andrew not sworn loudly.

And then his hand was moving, tugging at his erection, pumping with an urgency that made her heart race. His actions were animalistic, basic. And so carnal they roused her own hunger until playing was not enough.

She abandoned her slick folds in favor of her clit—which was almost too engorged to touch. That didn’t stop her, couldn’t stop her. As Andrew pumped his dick with savage intensity, Tori stroked herself with ever-increasing pressure, rubbing her swollen bud in tiny circles.

“Fu-uck!” Andrew’s hand flew over his dick, faster, faster, faster. “Tori…”

And then it stopped. He jerked hard, and streams of come belted from his tip. Long white strands landed on his shirt. An agonized groan tore from his throat, and he shot again, once, twice, this time coating his hand.

Tori’s heart sat in her throat. Her lungs constricted. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

Her pussy pulsed, her finger circled, and her own orgasm crested, bursting through her like lightning. She arched her back as she climaxed, pressing on her clit, drawing out the pleasure, and stared as Andrew came down from his release. He freed the death grip on his dick, ran his hand gently up his length, then down again, all the while watching her.

He hadn’t touched her, and she hadn’t touched him, yet the very intimacy of what they shared made the moment that much more erotic.

She came hard, the force of her third powerful orgasm in two hours leaving her utterly boneless. When the tingles and shudders passed she was capable of doing nothing more than collapse on the bed and lie there panting.

Her gaze tracked Andrew as he crossed the room, stripping as he walked. He disappeared through a door—the bathroom, she guessed, based on the sound of running water seconds later. A soft thump and splashing followed, and then he was back, headed in her direction, naked as the day he was born.

And beautiful. Oh, so very beautiful in his nudity.

Without a word, Andrew climbed onto the bed, lay down behind her and pulled her into his arms, his chest to her back. She melted into him, relishing the strength that bracketed her body. He pulled a sheet over them, then tightened his hold.

She felt safe here, secure. And sleepy, so damn sleepy. Her eyes closed, and she gave herself over to the lethargy that tugged at her.

Moments before she lost consciousness altogether, Andrew nuzzled his nose into her neck. “You slay me, Tor,” he whispered.

Chapter Nine

Tori awoke to the warm sensation of skin plastered against skin. She was snuggled up against a very hard, very male body.

Secure in the knowledge that all was right in the world, she burrowed in closer to drift back to sleep.

Only something kept the slumber at bay, a vague sense of worry nudging at her belly. She relaxed into Declan’s heat, wondering what might cause anxiety to press down on her.

Wait.

Declan didn’t snuggle. Didn’t like it. It made him too hot.

So why was he pressed against her like this, every inch of his chest molded to her back, the front of his thighs enveloping the back of hers? And why was his arm wrapped around her stomach, holding her so protectively?

Tori opened her eyes, staring in silence at the strange surroundings.

This wasn’t her room. It wasn’t Declan’s either. It was a nice room, luxurious, but foreign. She blinked, the harsh overhead light hurting her eyes.

And then she remembered.

Reality came hurtling back, hitting her in the chest, making her gasp. She bolted upright.

The warm body beside her bolted upright too. “What? What’s wrong?”

A man who wasn’t Declan stared at her, confused, then rubbed his eyes. “Sweetheart? You okay?”

“Yes. No.” She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“What happened?”

“I woke up, felt you behind me and assumed you were Declan. Then…then you weren’t.”

Andrew nodded slowly, telling her he understood. “Disappointed?”

“A little.” She dropped her head in her hands.

His response was a long time in coming. “I guess I can’t blame you.”

Her heart pounded unsteadily. “I— I’m sorry. I don’t mean that as an insult to you.”

“I know you don’t.”

“No, I don’t think you do. I’m not disappointed to find you here. I’m disappointed in myself. And in him.”

“Why the hell would you be disappointed in yourself?”

Because she was a failure? Because she couldn’t hold on to the man she was supposed to marry? Because that man had deeper desires than she could fathom, desires he wouldn’t share with her, the woman he’d chosen to live his life with? Because two days before her wedding she’d accidentally stumbled upon the fact her fiancé didn’t love her? Pick one. “You know that expression about not putting all your eggs in one basket?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I did that. Put all my eggs in Declan’s basket. And he cracked them. Every last one.” She dropped her hands, looked at Andrew in despair. “I’ve lost them, Andrew. All my eggs.”

“No, sweetheart. You haven’t lost them all.” He stroked her back, his touch incredibly comforting. “It’s just the ones at the top he cracked. The ones at the bottom? They’re holding strong. You just can’t see them right now. The broken ones have made too much mess.”

Despite her despair, a smile tugged at her lips. “You have a knack for metaphors.”

Andrew shrugged. “I’m being objective. Something you can’t do now. You’re caught in the middle of it all.”

“Could you show me the unbroken eggs? ’Cause right now I’m struggling to find any. I’ve lost my future and my fiancé. Everything feels very broken.”

“I can do that.”

She eyed him speculatively. “You’ve performed miracles with me up until now, but honestly? I think this one’s too big a stretch, even for you.”

He tugged her hair. “Have faith, woman.”

“Okay, man. Go ahead. Show me an unbroken egg.” She tried to smile but failed. “Please.”

“Let’s start from the top. With your sister.”

“Janine?”

“Yep, Janine. Tell me, did you lose her in the craziness?”

Tori shook her head instantly. “No.” Never. Neen was a constant in her life. Always would be. Janine had been a rock yesterday, had anchored Tori firmly to the ground when she’d drifted away on a cloud of hurt. Well, once Janine had calmed down and stopped threatening to gut Declan with Tom’s fishing knife, she had, hugging her little sister while Tori’d cried, listening to the whole sorry story.

“How about your parents? Do you still have them?”

“Of course I do.” They’d been heartbroken for her. And livid with Declan, but their love and support had seen her through a very trying day.

Determined to keep Tori’s spirits up, her sister and mother had gone ahead with the surprise they’d planned for her. A half-day escape at a luxury spa for all three of them. Facial, massage, mani, pedi and full-body scrub included. What was supposed to have been a pre-wedding pamper party had turned into Operation Heartbreak Rescue.

Considering the circumstances, the afternoon had been good, making the day a zero on the one to ten scale, instead of the minus twenty-five it would have been without her mum and sister. Tori felt closer to them than ever.

Andrew was right. Tori could never lose her family, no matter what Declan did.

“How about the fifty other women who descended on you when you arrived on Thursday?” Andrew asked. “You still have them?”

“I do. But they’re mostly family, so they have no choice but to stick around.” Although there hadn’t really been fifty. Only eight—including Vi, Neen and her mum. “But I can’t be around them now. Can’t bear the sympathetic looks and
tut-tut
s.” She knew her aunts and cousins felt sorry for her. Their pity and inane comments just made Tori feel worse.

“Okay, so unbroken but put aside for now,” Andrew said logically. “How about your friends?”

“I’ve only spoken to one of them. Violet. My BFF.”

“And? Is she broken?”

“No.” Tori’s smile was small, but it was there. “Just the opposite. She’s strong. Sturdy.” The woman had given her a very, very long hug, her eyes filled with sadness, not pity. She hadn’t tried to make it better for Tori, had instinctively realized that she couldn’t. And bless her heart, she hadn’t once tried to apologize for introducing the two of them in the first place. All she’d done was offer her support. “I’m here if you need me. Tor. If you want to scream or cry or rage or burn his things, I’m here.”

Like her family, Vi’s shell was way too tough to crack.

“You know,” Andrew pondered out loud, “apart from Declan, I’m not really seeing any broken eggs.”

Tori pursed her lips. “Noah.”

“Noah?”

“Declan’s partner. The one whose messages I read.”

Andrew stared at her a long time before answering. “Okay, I’ll give you Noah. That egg is broken forever. But…”

“But?”

“But I don’t think he counts.”

“Why not?”

“Because Noah belongs to Declan’s basket, not yours. He’s Declan’s partner and mate. He was never really yours in the first place.”