King's Passion (11 page)

V
ictoria hadn't even opened her eyes when a smile eased across her lips. Next, she stretched her long body across the bed as far as she could in the tangled sheets. Muscles and synapses hummed harmoniously like she'd just finished getting a long-overdue tune-up. She moaned and then sighed aloud at the feel of the morning sunlight caressing her skin. Despite her internal clock going off like crazy because it had to be well past her usual wake-up time, she snapped back into the form of a C to reclaim her position inside a warm and comfortable nook and hit her mental snooze button.

For a fleeting moment, she entertained the wild notion of just spending the day in bed. After the whirlwind of the past week, surely she was entitled to such an indulgence. The longer the idea lingered in her head, the more she warmed to it. She could order room service, fluff up the pillows and just get lost in an afternoon of soap-opera
drama. It had been years since she'd sneaked a peek at what was happening in Pine Valley or Port Charles. Instead of Ferris Bueller, it would be Victoria Gregory's day off.

She chuckled against a muscled arm. Then another one slowly eased across her waist and enveloped her completely. The body heat solicited a moan. And when a pair of lips pressed against the back of her neck, she moaned even deeper.

“You want to share what's so funny?” a silky baritone asked.

Maybe it was because she liked the way the warm wall of muscles rumbled when he talked or how she savored the richness of his voice that made her smile inch wider.

“Hmm?” he persisted while his lips started traveling south.

“I was just thinking how nice it would be to spend the entire day in bed.”

“Ahhh. That would be nice.”

The arm around her hip moved slightly and the next thing she felt were these strong yet soft fingers gliding up her leg. “Mmm. That feels nice.”

“Yeah? You like that?”

Why wouldn't she? The mattress shifted behind her while her legs were being nudged open. She was only too happy to oblige. The reward was those same fingers dipping inside her sleek rosy walls. Victoria's moans were now on a continuous loop.

Forget daytime talk shows or soap-opera dramas,
this
was the way she wanted to spend the day in bed. The soft pads of Eamon's fingers rotated slowly around the base of her clit. In no time at all, her body started churning.

“You're nice and wet this morning.”

She couldn't tell if he was just stating a fact or giving her a compliment. Truth be told, she really didn't care.
All that mattered at that moment was making sure that he didn't stop doing what he was doing. To ensure that, she opened her legs a few more inches to give his magical hands full access.

“Is this what you really wanted to stay in bed for?”

Victoria sighed and nodded, but it became clear that wasn't enough for her morning lover.

“I didn't hear you, baby. Was that a yes?”

She wasn't prepared or able to form actual words, so all she managed to get out was “Uh-huh.”

There was more shifting and before she knew it, she had rolled all the way onto her back and her legs were damn near pointing east and west. She still was unable to open her eyes. She could, however, feel Eamon as he positioned himself between her legs. Next, her soaking-wet lips were being pried open. For a second there was the cool kiss of the room's air-conditioning against her throbbing clit. But then it was quickly replaced by Eamon's warm breath as his mouth opened. By the time his talented tongue glided into her, she was already plunging down the rabbit hole to Wonderland.

Victoria's back arched so high it could've doubled as half of McDonald's golden arches. However, Eamon didn't give her another Midwest tornado performance. This time, he was giving her an easy Sunday-morning special. In a way, it was even more torturous and agonizing. She wanted to come so badly that she kept impatiently thrusting her hips and grinding. It didn't matter what she did, he wasn't going to change speeds.

Until recently—like in the past twelve hours—Victoria hadn't been a proponent of oral sex. The handful of lovers she'd had had never really shown much interest. And the two times her lovers did perform oral sex, she now realized that they didn't know what the hell they were doing. Hell,
if she had known that it could be this damn good, she would've formed a fan club and served as president. She never knew that anything could be this intense and powerful.

Sometime later, after thrashing like a woman possessed, she came to rest on the bed with her head and shoulders hanging over the side. Despite the blood rushing to her head, she heard the unmistakable sound of a condom packet being ripped open. She smiled because she knew what was coming next—literally. Eamon's powerful hands gripped her by her waist and then dragged her body back onto the bed.

Victoria's eyes fluttered open at least a half an inch as she caught a glimpse of Eamon's lustful expression through her long fan eyelashes. She was struck by the fact that he looked like a chiseled god made of ebony porcelain or an African gladiator—proud and strong. There was no getting around that he was a visual orgasm, from his sinewy arms to his mountainous chest. A smile quirked at the corners of her lips a second before his hips surged forward and impaled her with ten inches of black steel.

The air escaped her lungs while sanity became a distant memory. When she turned her head around to get a glimpse of him behind her, she saw from the expression on Eamon's face that he was just as lost in ecstasy as she was. That knowledge gave her a sense of having a little more power, so she tried to exercise it by wrapping her long legs around his trim waist and rolling her hips forward.

He shuddered and then that sly smile that she loved so much splashed across his face. His maple-brown gaze was now the color of mahogany, a sign that their morning sex-a-thon was just getting started. What was it about him that triggered this response in her? How was it that she felt
comfortable doing things with him that she'd never done before?

She'd never felt so uninhibited. She'd always thought being sexually modest was a part of her personality. Most of what she had done in the last twenty-four hours defied reason. It was as if she had become someone else…and she loved it.

Eamon planted his arms on either side of her head. She reached out and held on to them like they were black pillars of strength. Now anchored, she increased the speed at which she dipped and rolled her hips. It didn't matter that she could feel him thrusting in the center of her chest, she wanted him deeper. She would rather that than the puffs of air that she managed to get into her lungs between strokes.

When that glorious pressure started to build inside her, she lost sight of her beautiful King because she could no longer stop her eyes from rolling around in her head. The steady sounds of their bodies slapping together was like the bass to their duet of moans and groans. As she crested with yet another earth-shattering orgasm, she felt like the queen of the universe zooming from the sun to Neptune and then back again.

Her finale was a scream so loud and powerful it wouldn't surprise either of them if the entire floor heard her. Afterward, for what seemed like the longest minute, she just tried her damnedest to lie still. But her body's aftershocks made that impossible.

 

Eamon was smiling long before he opened his eyes again. Not only that, he was completely drained. And that was saying something coming from a man who competed annually in the New York City Marathon. He was amazed and yet frightened of this woman tucked under him. He
enjoyed women—almost to a fault. But what he was feeling now was eroding the line of casual sex.

Steer clear of this kind of danger,
a little voice in his head kept repeating.

Eamon cringed at Q's logic floating around in his head. Still there was something to his cousin's warning. He pulled in a deep breath, hoping that it would help clear his mind.

It didn't.

His ego took the floor in his imaginary courtroom and tried to convince him that he was just opening up a whole new world for his spoiled heiress, but his brain immediately argued not to buy in to last night's and this morning's dramatic performance. Only an over-emotive community theater actress could perform with that much passion and abandonment.
Don't get it twisted,
Eamon admonished. He knew he had skills, but could a woman really have as many orgasms as he'd counted last night?

Eamon rolled over onto his side, pulling Victoria's body against his for the requisite spooning. She was like a new toy that he didn't want to share or lose, at least not until he'd figured out how all the parts worked and what made her so special. That was what she was, his heart stated.
Special.
Hadn't he known it the moment he'd laid eyes on her?

He watched her as she dozed softly during her after-sex coma as more questions bubbled to the surface. The questions didn't scare him. It was the answers that might have him lying in a pool of his own sweat in the middle of the night. She looked nothing like the fire-breathing Amazon who'd stormed into his club less than twenty-four hours ago. The lightly applied makeup that she had on during dinner last night had long worn off and her hair
looked as if it had been windblown during a category-five hurricane. Yet she was still stunningly beautiful.

The longer he stared at her the faster his heart raced, but he couldn't pull his eyes away. As the minutes ticked by, Eamon started etching every line and angle of her face into memory. Of course, it would be nice if he could wake up every morning to her face.

He frowned. Wasn't that the second time that rogue thought had drifted across his mind? Spooked, he shook his head and sat up.
No. This was just sex. Nothing more and nothing less.
He eased off the bed and then as quietly as he could, he headed to the bathroom and shut the door.

In the shower, the spray of hot water washed off some of the hazy feeling of sexual afterglow. Not all of it, but enough to get him to start feeling like his old self again. Sure, Victoria was a sexy-as-hell heiress with a major chip on her shoulder. Last night and this morning, she proved to be a woman of boundless passion with possibly a freaky streak. It was a heady combination for sure. But it didn't mean that he should be entertaining any notions of turning his life upside down to become a one-woman man. Those types of dreams were long gone.

“Long gone,” he repeated as his amen chorus. By the time he stepped out of the shower, he had reclaimed his sanity. “It was just sex,” he told his reflection as he wrapped a towel around his hips. When he marched back to the master bedroom, he was surprised to see Victoria sitting on the edge of the bed with the top sheet bunched around her.

“Good morning, Princess. Sleep well?” He traced an appreciative eye over her just-sexed look and smiled. His cock also started to stretch back down his leg.
Damn. I hope I have at least one more condom in my wallet.

Victoria's gaze swung sharply toward him.

He found himself grateful that she didn't possess the ability to decapitate him with her mind. It looked like the other Victoria had returned. “Is there a problem?” he asked with his brows creasing the center of his forehead.

“We need to talk,” she stated in a flat monotone.

“That doesn't sound too good when you say it like that.”

Her glare softened a bit, but her jaw remained firm. “Look. It's probably best that I just come right on out and say this.”

Eamon folded his arms. “All right. Shoot.”

Victoria took a deep breath. “What happened last night was…just sex.”

His eyebrows wrinkled comically in the center of his forehead at the sound of his own words being tossed back at him. To be honest, he didn't like it. “Is that right?”

“Yes. It didn't mean anything…and it doesn't change anything.” Her gaze locked on to his. “Is that clear?”

Damn. Was that how he sounded when he gave this speech?
“Actually, I'm sure that it is clear.” He leaned back against the wall and studied her face. “Are you saying that you just used me for sex?” He almost smiled when a familiar shade of burgundy stained her face and neck.

“Don't be glib.”

He unfolded his arms and pressed a hand against his chest. “Me? Glib? Never. I'm just curious. Do you make it a habit of doing this kind of thing?”

She jumped to her feet and just barely kept the sheet from falling to the floor. “Of course not! Don't be ridiculous! I've never done anything close to what happened last night.”

Eamon cocked his head. “Come now. You're hardly a virgin.”

Her mouth opened wide in shock. “You know what I
mean. I don't…” She lowered her voice. “You know—sleep around—or have one-night stands.”

Chuckling, he folded his arms again. “It seems you and your ex-fiancé come to Las Vegas and do a lot of things that you two don't normally do.”

Victoria's eyes bulged to the size of golf balls. “How
dare
you!”

“Me? I didn't wake up this morning and decide to become a raging…
witch
this morning.”

There was one more gasp before she turned, picked up the clock radio and hurled it at him.

Eamon dodged out of the way. The clock smashed against the wall and left a large dent in the plaster.

“You take that back!”

He probably would have, if he could get himself to stop laughing.

“Take it back!” She turned around again, this time she grabbed the lamp and snatched the cord out of the wall.

“All right. All right!” He held up his hands but was still laughing. “I take it back. Don't hurt me.”

With eyes flashing like emeralds and her chest heaving with anger, she was once again that powerful Amazon that had stolen his breath away the moment he'd laid eyes on her. He was fascinated by both sides of this complex creature. “Has anyone ever told you that you have one hell of a temper?”