Authors: April Vine
“Oh, look, it’s Declan.”
She didn’t mean to look, really. But who couldn’t when he drove one of those horrendously old-fashioned jeep things that looked as if it would leave a trail of parts in its wake?
“Thanks for the cookies, Mrs. Meyer. I really must go.”
“Oh, hold on a minute. You haven’t said a proper hello to him yet. I’m so proud of that boy. He’s grown into such a lovely man and takes such good care of his mother.” Mrs. Meyer’s eyes misted over as she glanced at her nephew descending from his excuse for a car.
Yeah? Did she know he frequented sex shops on a Saturday morning? Not only that, he was some kind of VIP, too; or else what would he have been doing behind the counter if he weren’t an honest regular customer, like her? “Declan,” Mrs. Meyer called to him. No, she had to get out of this.
“Maybe another time, but I really have to go…”
He reached his arm through the open window and retrieved a package that dried her mouth and constricted her heart. With a few long strides, he was at her door. Her gaze glued to the bag he nonchalantly held in his hand. God, why did that look like her orphaned dildo, the one she purchased and left behind? She whipped her gaze to meet his teasing one. Yes, he held her dildo in his hands. In front of his aunt. Hot blood rushed to her cheeks. She gripped Mrs. Meyer’s tray, afraid it might slip through her sweaty palms and crash to the ground. She couldn’t take this anymore.
“You wanted someone to mow your lawn, Cait. Perhaps Declan can help you,” Mrs. Meyer continued, oblivious to the hateful stare she gave him or the defiant combative one he returned. “Perhaps he could water your flowers too.”
He lowered his head, his gaze flickering over the area between her legs, safely guarded by the terry cloth robe, but not enough when a scalding heat manifested itself there.
“I’m sure I could wet your flowers for you, Ms. Daniels, if you like.” The sound of his deep voice penetrated her, heating her blood and making her blush like a virgin all over again. Clearly, he was playing her. How much time did she have before he handed her the bag and explained it was the vibrator she left behind at the sex shop she’d visited that morning? She wouldn’t put anything past him, not with that bold chip on his shoulder.
“See, there. Perfect. Oh, and tell me you’ll be able to take Declan with you to the wedding? I’ll be leaving very early with the van, and I don’t want him driving that death-trap car of his around the mountains. He drives much too fast you know for my nerves, and I’d rather have him in one piece while he visits me. Would you mind, deary? Oh, this is perfect. Now you two have a lot to talk about with the grass and the flowers, and I’m going to miss my favorite TV program.”
Mrs. Meyer hardly gave her a chance to refuse, but the instant she had her back to the door, Cait grabbed his wrist and pulled him into her house. She shut the door behind her and then placed the tray on the entrance hall table.
“What the hell are you—?”
“What?” His challenging smile made her forget her words. “I brought you your merchandize seeing as how you paid for it already. I thought I was being considerate.”
“Ha. Considerate? You were practically waving it in your aunt’s face. Look here, it’s the dildo Cait bought, see aunty?” Cait leaned into the door. She couldn’t risk losing it now. What she desperately needed was a damage control tactic. Okay, deep breath, calm down. “Thank you. I appreciate it.” She stretched her hand out, waiting for him to hand it over. He didn’t move. Myriad feelings of lust and anger whirled around her. But more lust, much more lust. “Please.”
Chapter 2
Fuck, his cock was killing him.
Declan Meyer clenched his fist, resisting the urge to pull her into his arms and ravish her. Yes, ravish her because that’s exactly how he felt about her. The woman quivering with indignation before him haunted his dreams, his life, his body. From the first moment his gaze crossed hers, he knew he wanted her; even at eighteen he knew she would be his one day.
She curled her fingers into her palm and dropped her arm to her side, evidently realizing he wasn’t parting with his ammunition—her dildo.
“What happened to the jerk you were seeing the last time?” Not that he cared. Without the said jerk blocking his way, he could have her quicker. And even if the jerk remained on the scene, he’d find a way to make her his.
“We broke up.” She leaned further into the door, crossing her arms over her delectable breasts, her shoulders straining even though she tried for indifference. “And he wasn’t a jerk. He was my fiancé. We were going to get married.”
“Yeah, I know. So what happened?”
“What happens in my personal life is none of your concern. Just give me the bag, and we can call this whole thing off.” An exasperated sigh fell from her lips. She rushed her hand through her damp hair and shoved off the wall. The scent of peaches lingered in the air as she stood before him. His cock strained against the fabric of his jeans. Man, he wanted to sink his dick into her hotness as if his life depended on it, but he had to tread carefully. Cait Daniels was like no other woman he knew. The spell that forced him to return to her had been six years in the making. He was older now, stronger, and more able to make her his. The time had arrived, but he feared he’d mess it up and lose her before he had a chance to have her—for life.
“Give me the bag, Declan.” She used what he thought was her sternest voice. What did she think he was, five? The thought irritated him because nothing but his age would keep her from his arms.
“You’ll come to the wedding with me?”
“No, I most certainly won’t. Now give it here.” She made a grab for the dildo. He raised it out of her reach. She balanced on her toes trying to snatch it out of his hands, lost her balance, and was forced to support her palm on his chest to prevent from falling on top of him. He held her hand there with his other hand. Her touch burned through the Goth Demon head on his T-shirt and the beat of his heart accelerated. She gasped. His cock twitched. She yanked her hand away, fury and confusion bellowing from her gaze before she stalked away from him.
“I’m not doing this with you. I’m not going to get sucked into this childish game you insist on playing with me; one, because I’m a mature adult, and two, you’re acting like nothing but the cocky misguided teen you still are…”
God, she got to him. He threw her dildo onto a chair, grabbed her around the waist, and slammed her into a bare wall. Her breath zigzagged out of her mouth, her throat bobbed, and her breasts heaved. The thick gown she wore parted, revealing a length of thigh and a smidge of pussy.
He pressed her down with his body and his cock nestled into her tummy, staking his claim. She needed to see him as a man and not a boy. Fuck, he could make her his. He could make her come a thousand times. He could teach her body to answer only to him. But first, she had to
see
him as a man who wanted to fuck her hard, long, fast, slow, sweet, all the time, anywhere, and any place.
But not like this. He wanted to date her, court her, and woo her. Make her fall in love with him. Why he imagined she’d be that easy he had no idea. She had practically laughed at him the first time they met. He knew she thought he was sweet and cute and then paid no more attention to him. His plan to make her his would fail if he decided to take the more generally accepted route. She’d shoot him down in a heartbeat. What he needed was something to shock her, to throw her off her pedestal until she begged him to touch her.
He never imagined finding her in a sex shop purchasing a vibrator, but perhaps that approach would be the only winnable one.
“Are you wet for me, Cait?”
The blue of her eyes darkened. A deep pink flush covered her skin. His efforts at maintaining control were savaged with every breath she took. His fingers yearned to touch her. His mouth ached to lick her. His body screamed for her. His heart belonged to her, but she’d trample all over it and chuck it back in his face without a backward glance. He had to mold her to be his. This was the only way.
“No, I’m not.” Her denial sounded breathy, hoarse. Her lips quivered as he slipped his thigh between hers. The heat from her skin soared over him, penetrated his clothes, and settled in his veins. She had to be wet if she was that hot. She fumbled to gather the robe around her nakedness. He captured her hands in one of his and bound them at the top of her head. Her tits arched forward. His tongue craved laving the diamond peaks.
“Your eyes say you’re wet for me.”
*
Cait wriggled under his grasp. His body this close to hers ignited the fire she was so desperate to keep from him. Now he would know. His knuckle drifted over her lips, down her throat, into the valley between her breasts, descended against her navel, and then lower to her mons. Frantic he’d find her wetter than he predicted, she put up a fight. A useless fight because he towered over her, his strength unquestionable. She had a better chance pushing off a boulder. He couldn’t touch her.
“Declan, please, let me go.”
“Tell me you’re not wet.” The husk of his voice tickled her ear and reverberated through her whole body. Her glance whispered over his lips, slightly parted but set into two hard lines. The fact that he had something to prove pierced her every hope of escaping him. His tongue brushed her jaw. Liquid fire blazed in her pussy. Instinctively, she whimpered and writhed against him. The weight of his cock resting against her created a mind-altering spell potent enough send her to her knees and beg him to take her any way he wanted.
She couldn’t fight this battle. Not when her mind and body verged on separate ends of the same argument, forcing her to stand before him, giving herself to him without the means to stop even that. She wanted him. God help her, she wanted him. But she couldn’t have him. He was too young. Why, oh, why for someone who led her life according to a strict regimen did she hunger for Declan Meyer, someone with the capacity to derail her safe and reserved life?
His knuckle stroked her mons, each tender lash drawing a million degrees of heat from her pussy. He slipped lower. She squeezed her thighs shut, trapping his hand between them.
“Open your legs for me, sweetheart.”
She shook her head, dropping her chin to avoid the dark desire in his eyes. He bent his knees to lower his height and then nudged her chin with his finger until she looked at him. That was a mistake. A huge, unfixable mistake. She drowned in the intensity of his gaze, mesmerized by this boy who now looked at her like a man. A man who wanted her. Without words and action, he weakened her stance. She fell for him, obeying his command like she would no other man’s. Her legs parted. He didn’t sever his attention from her eyes as he slipped a single finger inside her. She bit her lip, hard, and welcomed the pain, anything to distract her from the surrealism of the situation. But nothing could distract her long enough not to notice how her body hugged him to her. The sound of his finger slowly and deliberately swimming in her wetness echoed around the room.
“Please.” What was she begging for? Him to stop? No, she wanted more. Her twelve-month sex starved body pleaded for more. He removed his finger. She almost died from emptiness and whimpered in pain. He released her hands. She clutched his wrist, her fingers caressing the leather of the broad spiked bracelet he wore and the contrast of her fair skin against his tanned muscular skin pushing her desire up the last notch. She wanted to drink from his maleness, the sexiness that he oozed so effortlessly, the fierce strength he hid so carelessly. She wanted him to topple her over and plunge his cock inside her, breaking through her walls and exposing her. But he could never. She had to set him straight.
“Declan…”
He cupped her pussy and then eased in two fingers. All thoughts fled. His thumb caressed her clit, overloading her brain with sensation upon sensation. He fed her neglected sexuality a crumb; she wanted to suck him up whole.
She pushed her palms against his chest, rejecting him at the same time her clit rocked against the pad of his thumb. Two fingers became three, filling her deeply. The tender massage of her clit with his thumb became fast expert strokes that called out every nerve centered inside it for his feeling pleasure.
“I can’t.” Still she tried to stop herself. She was supposed to be the voice of maturity between the two of them, not the pathetic helpless one dictated by a body under his command.
“Come for me, Cait. Come for me.” His demand wrecked the last glimmer of control she had left. “Say my name and come for me.” His mouth closed over her breast. She lost what little balance she maintained as her nipple swelled even further under the hot whippings of his talented tongue. His thrusting fingers matched her reckless breaths. “Now,” he said around her nipple, and his thumb issued the final touch. She tumbled and fell into his arms, too weak to withstand the powerful spasms of the orgasm sweeping through her whole body. He held her until the last contraction was long over and her breath simmered to harsh pants. Slowly she unfolded herself from him. Reality took its time to creep in. She avoided looking at him. How could she? She let him touch her, allowed him to make her come. She practically begged him to fuck her with his fingers. She was awful, just freaking awful. Thankfully, he didn’t stop her as she wobbled away from him, straightening her robe as she did so. She bit her knuckle to stop from raging at herself for allowing such an irreparable act to take place. What was she thinking? She spun around to face him.
“That was a mistake. One we should forget ever happened immediately.” Her voice strained over the hoarseness of her throat, but she remained rigid and stern.
“Not going to happen, sweetheart.” He stood there in his worn-out designer jeans, thick leather belt, black T-shirt, a huge watch on his other wrist, tattoos riding up one arm, over his sculptured bicep and disappearing beneath the short sleeve of his T-shirt, the world at his feet, all young and full of cock and cum.
He brought his hand to his mouth, the one he had touched her with. His fingers dwelled over his lips. He inhaled her scent before he licked off her taste. She quivered. Her pussy ached to be touched again. She crossed her arms to stump her nipples from poking through her robe.