Wounded Birds (The Grayson Series Book 1) (33 page)

I swore I’d never step foot in Texas again, but that’s in the past. “Yes, I would love to join you and your family for Thanksgiving,” I answer with a smile, feeling free and excited.

The expression on his face goes from solemn to Elysium.

He stands, lifts me off my feet, and spins me around. “I can’t wait for you to meet my dad. He is going to fall in love with you. Truthfully, he all ready has.”

He puts me down and steadies me when I lose my balance from being spun around several times. I tilt my head to the side. “Really?” I ask.

“He’s a fan of yours. He watches all your travel shows, and if he’s away on business, he records them,” he replies, brushing my hair behind my ear and gently stroking my cheeks, causing my breath to hitch. “Believe” by Elton John pulsates through my surround sound.

His eyes darken, nearly undoing me and without warning his mouth captures mine, harsh and fierce, which has me reeling over the edge.

I throw my arms around his neck and groan with heart-stirring pleasure, pulling his mouth closer to mine.

He grasps me by the hips and pulls me firmly into his thick arousal, swaying to the sweet melody, weakening my knees, and lost in his inebriating kiss.

With an undying want and hunger, his big, strong hands caress every inch of my body, hard and intense.

I move back, panting heavily, and place my hands against his chest feeling his fast beating heart and solidity. I inch my way down and kneel before him, licking my lips with anticipation. I undo the button of his jeans, and with a gentle tug, I ease down his zipper. The sound of the metal and his harsh gasp has my heart racing with excitement.

“Ariana,” he whispers. “You don’t have to do this,” he rasps with a deep seductive tone.

“I want to,” I murmur and slide his jeans down his Goliath legs, feeling his coarse hairs tingling against my skin. I reach the waistband of his underwear, drawing them down, and out springs the beautiful gift God blessed him with.

He shivers, taking stuttering breaths as my fingers trace the sensitive area of his scrotum. I stroke the long, thick length with my tongue, capturing it in my mouth, sucking and taking him as deep as I can, gripping onto his tight, beautiful ass. I melt from the sweet growling sounds he makes, causing my groin to ache.

“Oh, Ariana,” he hisses out. “Stop, I don’t want to come in your mouth.”

Ignoring his request, I take him deeper and harder, moaning as the vibration makes it more stimulating against his flesh.

“Ariana,” a moan rumbles from beneath his chest and I feel his ass tense beneath my fingers as I take him further into my mouth. “Ariana,” he cries out as his body begins to tremble, shaking violently as he pulsates deep into my mouth, pushing his pelvis back and forth. He releases a harsh growl and explodes, shuddering wildly into his climax as I milk every ounce of cum, pleasing him as he so deserves.

He pulls me away, kneels down, and lifts my chin up. “Ariana, shit,” he rumbles out, his face overflowing with gratitude. “That was . . . mind-blowing.” He kisses me, his tongue dancing with mine and sucking my bottom lip. “I can taste myself in your mouth,” he says and kisses me one last time before he pulls away, staring at me with eyes dilated and bursting with blazing heat.

“Ariana, I need to reciprocate.”

“Not necessary,” I whisper.

He shakes his head, urging me to lie back on the floor. He pulls my jeans down over my ankles. His fingers hook around the waistband of my panties, and he tears them off in one swift move.

“When I finish with you, you won’t have any panties to wear.” He roars, and he inserts two fingers within my hot, moist, pink folds. I gasp loud, and my head snaps back as he grasps the inside of my walls and clit at the same time creating a thunderous storm. I squeeze my eyes shut and begin to fall as the dangerous erotic sensations course throughout my whole body, causing me to shudder and my heart to palpitate.

He gazes at me, enjoying the view. He lowers his head down toward my aching core, and one swipe of his tongue has me screaming and arching my hip into his mouth.

“Oh, Michael . . .
Michael
.” I thread my fingers through his hair, pulling him closer to me. He glides his tongue and fingers over my clit in a circular motion, sucking, and licking. My eyes burst open as the sensation of his tongue plunges deep with my walls, and I explode, saturating him with my flowing juices.

I thrust my head from side to side as his magical tongue dances in and out of my sex, injecting me with his fingers and sending me whirling into another dimension to the point that I don’t know if I’m up or down. I just know I can’t breathe . . . I can’t think . . . it’s just so . . . damn . . . good.

“
Ahhh . . . God, Michael
.” I cry out his name as a massive wave of unfamiliar ecstasy shudders throughout my mind, body, and soul. I fall over the edge and spiral down into the depths of Eden. Every vein explodes in a mad rush of convulsions from the ultimate climax I have ever experienced in my life.

“Damn you,” I hiss out.

He sits on his heels and flashes me a carnal grin full of lust as his fingers slide out, and he places them both between his lips and begins to suck the juices.

“Hmm, sweet ambrosia,” he murmurs and takes one last lick before he kisses me. I can taste the saltiness swirling around our tongues, and it’s erotically seductive.

“Michael, you’re mine,” I say through short breaths.

He smiles with gratitude. “Damn straight, woman, as you are mine,” he growls out with his sexy English accent. “Next time . . . Ariana, I want your sweet virgin ass.”

My jaw snaps open. I’m shocked at his request, yet turned on and excited at the thought.

“We’ll take it slow. I’ll use one finger first and gradually work my way to three, stretching you slowly, so you can accommodate me before I fill your sweet ass with my cock. Is that something you would be interested in trying?” He asks his eyes growing dark.

I swallow and nod slowly. I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this. I’m bewildered. I never had any desire to have anal sex. Each time Danny would bring up the subject I wanted to vomit, but when Michael described how he would break me in, with his seductively, sexy, raspy voice, I almost climaxed. I’m getting wet thinking about it. “Yes, I would very much like to try . . . with you,” I say.

His face lights up, and he flashes a drop-dead-gorgeous smile, bringing me down to my knees. “I’m looking forward to it. Come.”

“I need a little help. I feel a bit inebriated, and you still have my head spinning.” I laugh.

He chuckles and stands up, extending his hand, and I grab hold of it. He pulls me up against his chest, and I feel his body hot with need. I rub myself against him, feeling the heat emitting from his body.

“Sweetheart, if you keep this up, I’ll throw you over my shoulder and feast on you again.”

“Okay,” I whisper, with excitement seeping through my words, hoping for more.

He chuckles his hair all mussed. “I need to catch up on some work and airline reservations to make for us to head down to Texas, and
you
need to rest.” He bends down to pull his pants up and tosses over my clothes.

“I’ve rested plenty. I’m going to catch up on my e-mails and make a few calls.”

“Then off you go,” he says and slaps me on the ass causing moisture to pool between my legs turning me into jelly.

“Can you do that again?” I gasp out.

His face beams with desire. “When you least expect it, Ariana,” he says with one eyebrow lifted.

I bite my lip praying it will be soon.

Chapter 31

Meeting His Father

It’s Thanksgiving day. I’m packed and seated downstairs on one of the luxury sofas in the lobby waiting for Michael to come and pick me up. Trent and Josh left last night for Houston.

Joanne, Blake, and Francis flew off late last night to California to spend the holiday with their families.

I gaze out the glass doors, transfixed on the Christmas decorations and lights strung up illuminating Central Park. The streets are quiet. This is unusual for Manhattan, but not at three thirty in the morning. We’re scheduled to depart at five thirty for Houston.

I bounce my leg nervously with masses of butterflies fluttering in my stomach. I’m a bit restless and tired. Where is he, and why am I so nervous about meeting Michael’s father? We’re staying on the ranch, which distresses me even more.

Michael’s been at his place since Sunday night. He’s been working on his upcoming hotel in Hong Kong, and due to the time difference, he’s had to go on conference calls in the wee hours of the night. I insisted he stay at home.

At first he hesitated. He was concerned about me staying home alone after just getting out of the hospital. I told him he was too overly protective and needed to finally release the fears.

I was relieved when I convinced him to leave and stay home. I was forever grateful for the abundance of work he needed to attend to before we left for Houston. This kept his mind from wandering off and my sanity in tact.

I’ve been having disturbing, recurring nightmares for the past four nights, waking up screaming, drenched in sweat. I’m trapped in a black room tied to a bedpost, and I’m startled awake from the slashing pain ripping through my flesh. I’m sure this too shall pass as time heals.

I’m alarmed as Michael’s voice echoes. “Earth calling Ariana.” I turn my head to see him standing in front of me with his driver. He’s all dressed in his casual clothes looking sexier than ever. I sense the electricity spark around us making him dangerously potent.

“Are these your bags, Miss DiMarco?” Joe asks.

“Yes, Joe. Thank you.”

Michael takes me in his arms and squeezes me.

“Is this hug from Trent?” I gasp out.

“No, sweetheart, from me because I missed you so damn much.” He strokes my face with his tender fingers, sending tingling sensations over my skin.

“I missed you too,” I say and kiss his smooth, soft lips.

He takes me by the hand, and we walk out into the reposed City of New York, soon to be awakened with the rush of people, taxis, busses, and food vendors with the sweet aromas of roasted peanuts, hot dogs, and pretzels. They will move amid the sounds of the tourist who fly thousands of miles, or drive from the next city, to admire the Big Apple under the holiday lights with its creative and whimsical window decorations, Radio City Music Hall, Macy’s, and Rockefeller Center.

After arriving at JFK, we check in our luggage, go through security, and first-class passengers are called for boarding.

The flight is smooth and goes quickly. We land at the Houston airport and retrieve our bags. I begin to slow down my pace. The time is here to meet his father. My stomach is bubbling over and twisting into knots. My heart plummets deep into my ribs, shaking just as I am.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? You’ve been quiet the whole trip. You seem a bit uneasy. Are you feeling okay?” He asks attentively, placing the back of his hand over my forehead.

“Michael, I’m not sick. I’m real nervous about meeting your father.” I stare at my shoes, avoiding eye contact.

He pulls my chin up. “Ariana, you have nothing to worry about, he loves you. He’s probably more nervous meeting a celebrity.”

“I’m no superstar, Michael. I’m just a travel host broadcasting luxurious hotels around the globe.”

“Yes, sweetheart, on television where millions of people watch you.” He taps his finger on my nose and kisses me. “Stop worrying.”

That’s easy for him to say. We walk through the double glass doors, and Trent and Josh are standing beside a much taller version of . . . Oh. My. God. A true replica of Michael stands before me. They’re identical. Except for the salt and pepper hair, they could pass for twins.

He rushes toward me. Oh, no, another Trent. I prepare for the bear hug. “Ariana DiMarco,” His low, raspy voice echoes softly.

“Yes . . . Mr. Grayson,” I answer sounding a bit timid.

A huge, gleaming smile spreads across his face. “A real pleasure to meet you, ma’am.” His big, strong arms stretch out, enveloping me into his rock-solid, powerful chest. He picks me up off the ground and hugs me tight. Ah!

“Dad, please, easy on her,” Michael pleads anxiously. “She’s still healing.”

He places me back down like a china doll, and I exhale the little breath I have left in my poor deflated lungs.

“Sorry, Ariana, I got carried away. Welcome to Texas, darlin’, and happy Thanksgiving.”

“Happy Thanksgiving to you as well, and thank you for inviting me, Mr. Grayson,” I say with gratitude.

“Let’s not be formal now. Call me Jacob.”

He glances over to Michael and beams from ear-to-ear. “Come here, son. I missed you so much.” They embrace each other with an abundance of love.

Josh gives me a gentle hug and kisses my cheek. “How are you doing, Ariana?” His eyes are full of love and tenderness.

“I’m well, thank you.” I tiptoe up and kiss his cheek. “That’s for everything you’ve done for me.”

“It’s my job, and thank you again for saving Michael’s life.”

“Someone needs to protect him,” I smirk. We both burst into bubbles of laughter.

“What’s so funny here?” Trent asks, turning to me with a smile on his face. “Are you ready?”

I tense, squeeze my eyes shut, and await his close-fitting bear hug. “Yes,” I squeal out.

His embrace is soft and gentle. “Happy Thanksgiving, Ari,” Trent whispers surprising the hell out of me and leaving me with my mouth hanging wide open. He taps my nose. “I was warned by my big brother that I should be easy on you until you’re better.”

“Did he now?” I say, and glare at Michael.

“Don’t glower at me with those beautiful eyes. You know how I am about your well-being.”

It sounds strange to hear Michael speak in an English accent when the rest of his family has a Texas accent.

***

We arrive at the 4C Ranch not far from the city of Houston. A large iron gate separates apart to reveal a lush tree-lined road nestled within the sprawling six thousand acres. A beautiful two-story mansion emerges from the folds of greenery, and I behold an enchanting beauty.

The perimeter of the estate is encircled with live oak, cactus, yucca plants, rosebushes, and a multitude of native green grasses.

We step out of the car, and I’m dazzled at the magnificent beauty. A cool, gentle breeze of fresh, clean country air fills my senses. The sounds of nature and the captivating, grandiose views of the property and mountains are spellbinding. I glance to the left and catch sight of several horses galloping into a wooded trail.

“What do you think?” Michael comes up from behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. His mouth nuzzles deep into the nape of my neck, sending erotic chills over my skin as he nibbles.

“Breathtaking.” I turn my head to be dazzled by his beautiful face. The man who risked his life to save mine and without a doubt loves me unconditionally. God, I love him. Thank you!

“We have over thirty miles of riding trails. We’ll go in the morning.” He kisses me, embracing me into his warmth making me feel cherished and secure.

“I’d love to, except . . . I’ve never ridden on a horse. My grandfather had a horse stable in Monaco, but I was always to scared to ride on one,” I say, and dread rushes through me. I’m not sure I’m brave enough to get on one. They’re beautiful animals . . . and large . . . very large.

He chuckles. “Don’t worry, Ariana. You’ll ride Daisy. She’s fifteen years old and calm.”

“I trust you.”

“Come on, you two lovebirds. I want you to meet Maria. Then you can get settled in,” Jacob calls out.

We walk in, and I’m awestruck by the regal elegance and ambience of this beautiful home. Floors covered in Italian marble, twin staircases lead to the second story. The living area decorated in Mediterranean style. As we walk deeper into the house, I am presented with double glass doors leading into the Garden of Eden. The kitchen is enormous with stainless steel Sub-Zero appliances. Just like Michael’s.

The formal dining room is encased with regal windows. The opulent oval table arranged with soft orange and brown linens. Set on top are sparkling crystal glasses, lustrous silverware, and elaborate porcelain china with intricate gold autumn-leaf trimmings.

“Ariana, Michael,” a voice calls out. We turn to face a short and petite gray-haired woman with big, stunning, beautiful brown eyes.

Michael rushes over and gives her an enormous hug. “Happy Thanksgiving, Maria. You’re radiant as always.”

“You still have that silver tongue, and that English accent of yours.” She glances my way. “Is that how he reeled you in, honey?” she asks me with a big grin, hands on hips.

“More like bulldozed.” I laugh, already falling in love with her.

She walks over to me with arms wide open and embraces me with a big, warm, welcoming hug. “Happy Thanksgiving and welcome to the C4 Ranch and the family. I’m Maria. I raised these boys after their poor mama passed away.”

“Happy Thanksgiving to you, as well. I’m sure raising them must have been challenging,” I say with a chuckle.

“Honey, I can tell you some stories that will turn your hair gray,” she says laughing.

“I can’t wait,” I reply.

“Maria, you better not scare her away, or I’ll come hunting you down.” Michael points his finger at her with a grin then kisses the top of her head.

“Promises promises,” she chastises with a wave of her hand. “Go show her to your room. Dinner will be served at five. You have plenty of time to relax.”

“Can I help with anything, Maria?” I ask.

“No, darlin’, you rest. You seem a little pale. Are you okay?”

Michael stares closely at me with wary eyes. “Ariana, Maria is right, you are a bit ashen.”

“I’m fine, Michael. I’m exhausted. We did take a five thirty flight out, and I’ve been up since two thirty this morning.

“Well, let’s get you upstairs to my bedroom and settled so you can nap,” he says and leads me to one of the staircases.

We reach the top of the stairs and turn left. I follow him to the second bedroom. It’s enormous with a four-poster king-sized bed and a set of French doors leading onto a balcony.

The soft beige and elegant yellow-striped wallpaper cover the walls with elegance. A blue and white comforter and scattered pillows embellish the large bed.

“This is your room?” I ask, surprised at the size.

“Yes, a bit colossal.” He places the bags next to a polished dark cherry dresser.

“How many bedrooms if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Not at all. It’s ten bedrooms with twelve bathrooms. I know it’s ostentatious.”

“No, not at all. It’s beautiful, but why so many?”

“My parents’ planned to have six children in the hopes the amount would blossom to plenty of grandchildren.” He shrugs, raising his hand to gesture it was a crazy idea with a lift of his eyebrows. “My dad doesn’t speak about my mom’s death, and I would prefer if you don’t bring her up,” he pleads.

“Of course not.” I look into his eyes and see his grief. God, how painful this must be for him and his family. She must have been an amazing woman and mother.

He smiles and then changes the subject, which I’m grateful for. I love seeing Michael’s eyes light up, not dim like they were moments ago. “You’re exhausted, Ariana. Let’s get you into bed.”

“Just a little.”

He stands up to close the drapes. He walks back over to me and takes my shoes off. He pulls the comforter down, picks me up, lays me on the soft bed and shelters me beneath the soft duvet.

“Sleep, I’ll be back for you before we eat.” He kisses my lips.

The moment he walked out, it was lights out for me.

***

I stir beneath the warm covers to the sound of Michael’s sweet voice. “Hey, sweetheart, time to wake up.”

“Hmm,” I moan. I just need a few more minutes.

“Come on, Ariana.” He nibbles on my ear.

I giggle, pushing him away. “Okay, I’m getting up,” I say, but instead, I end up falling back to sleep.

“Ah! Jesus, Michael.” I jerk up, startled after Michael places a cube of ice over my chest.

He sits beside me, laughing, all smug. “I was desperate. I had to do something. You fell back to sleep.” He shrugs, still laughing with tears rolling down his cheeks.

“I’m glad I amuse you. Damn, that was . . . that was cruel and cold,” I say, pointing at him and knocking him down onto the bed.