Authors: Moira Rogers
The 13th Step (4 page)
Her taste fascinated him. He
relished the way she shifted and arched under him, straining for the
pleasure he held back. She didn't give up control easily, and he knew
what it meant for her to do it now, with him. If things were
different....
He licked the sharp ridge of her
ribs beneath her skin and sat up, watching the polished metal of the
vibrator slowly disappear between the smooth pink lips of her cunt.
Ella jerked again and this time Blake cursed, struggling for control.
"How bad do you want it?"
"Bad." She was writhing a
little, trying to work it deeper. The headboard creaked as she arched
a little, and she swore and squeezed her eyes shut. "That is
three hundred dollar designer silk. If I rip it, I'm going to—"
He pushed the vibrator deeper,
cutting off her words. "You're going to think it was worth every
penny." She whimpered, and he slid the metal out of her
entirely. "Aren't you?"
"Blake!" Her feet
scrambled for purchase, and she thrust her hips upwards in a pleading
gesture. "You want me to beg?"
He knew the look he flashed her was
one of pure, unadulterated lust. "You already
have
been begging, Ella. Just not with words." He almost thrust the
vibrator back in then trailed it down to her ass instead. "In
your case, it's always more honest when you're not talking, isn't
it?"
"You're the only one it's
honest with..." She was panting a little, excitement bringing an
unusual flush to her normally pale skin. Her tongue darted out, wet
her lower lip as she moaned softly. "You're the one who can fuck
me anywhere and make me beg for more."
He reached back into the drawer for
the small, stylish bottle he'd seen before. "You can't get this
stuff at the corner drugstore." She tried to twist away when he
flipped open the cap and trickled the lube over her skin, but he held
her still. "Cold?"
Ella bared her teeth at him in a
snarl, but there was nothing reticent about the way she rocked into
his hand. She wanted it, always, wanted him and anything he could
dream up. Every second he made her wait drove her closer to the edge
of sanity.
His fingers slipped as he spread the
lube on her skin, massaging gently. "Remember that phone booth
in London?" The blunt tip of the vibrator prodded her ass then
began to slide inside.
She didn't answer. Her body tensed,
her eyes snapping open, and she stared at him, wild-eyed and panting,
as he worked the slick metal slowly deeper. He could remember all too
easily how good it felt to fuck her like this, how hot and tight
she'd be, how much she'd squirm and whimper as he eased his cock into
her ass.
But if he did it now, it would be
over too soon.
Hell, he wasn't sure that was a bad
thing. He should have already been gone. He should have told her to
go fuck herself. To go find another fix. Now, when he went home, he'd
be right back where he started. The physical need, the withdrawal,
would be negligible. But, God, it would take him forever to heal his
heart.
Ella twisted and begged, and he
almost climbed off the bed and walked out.
Goddammit, I
should
.
I should save myself.
Instead, he eased the metal rod out
of her and dropped it to the floor. Her eyes were wide and drank in
the sight of him as he moved up over her and positioned his cock at
her entrance. "I should leave now," he whispered, then
buried himself in her pussy.
She was tight and wet and already
clenching around his cock, so close to orgasm that he knew he could
push her over the edge the second he wanted to.
Instead, he let her beg. She filled
the room with hoarse cries, begging him to fuck her harder, faster.
Begging him to let her come. He wanted to, wanted to pound into her
until the sheer pleasure of release washed through him, obliterating
everything but the clutch of her body, the smell of her skin. But he
held back, sliding his arms under her shoulders and slowing his
thrusts until he barely moved.
Blake had always liked taking it
slow. He liked the easy buildup that took forever, the leisurely
climb to orgasms so intense you thought you might implode when they
came. Not Ella. She liked it quick, hot, and dirty.
Not this time.
He closed his teeth on a sensitive
spot at the base of her neck and sucked lightly. Her breathing
hitched, a low moan tickling his ears. "Blake—baby—"
His hair fell forward and tickled
them both as he thrust hard, just once, his skin slapping against
hers. "No good?"
She cried out, her voice filling the
room. Her lips sought his, found his cheek instead, and he felt her
harsh breaths against his skin. "Too good," she whispered.
"You make me—make me crazy—"
He lifted his head and looked down
into her eyes. He lifted a hand and brushed his thumb over her bottom
lip. "Bite me, Ella." He knew he sounded needy, lost. "Make
us both come."
Ella's hands were in his hair before
he registered the sound of tearing fabric. The remains of her
expensive blue halter hung from one wrist, the silk tickling his back
as she fisted her hands around the long strands of his hair and
tilted his head back.
Pleasure exploded through him with
the first touch of her mouth, so violent and overwhelming that he
barely noticed the prick of her teeth. His entire body throbbed, and
he gave himself over to the ecstasy of her bite. It was total bliss,
so profound and complete he couldn't even tell when he actually came.
All he could do was cling to her, thrusting wildly.
And it didn't stop. At some point
she rolled them over, and he was vaguely aware of the expensive silk
beneath his back. She bathed them both in pleasure that went on until
the edges of the world grew blurry and he wondered if this would be
the time when she took too much, when she drained his body as dry as
his heart.
He felt so light-headed when she
pulled back that her tongue against his neck was a faint tickle that
felt like a dream. He felt her lips against his ear, felt her breath
as she spoke. "Thank you, Blake. For everything."
He had to summon every bit of his
will to speak. "Tangerine," he whispered. Their safe word,
to let her know before he slipped into oblivion.
No
more. It has to stop.
She sighed, a tiny, sad sound. "I
am so sorry," she whispered, a faint hint of an accent coloring
the formal-sounding words. "I wish you well in all you do."
This was the real Ella, the one he
rarely got to see. He knew what it meant. She understood. No more. He
wanted to echo her words, but the room spun and darkness clawed at
him.
She would be gone when he woke up.
He would dress, and he would leave, and he wouldn't look back.
Epilogue
He found the card in his mailbox
when he came back from his next job. It featured a garish collage of
Las Vegas neon and landmarks, and he smiled without thinking.
Ella.
He had wondered if he'd hear from
her. Word had already filtered through the supernatural grapevine of
Raul Silvio's death and the relatively young upstart who'd taken his
place. Blake's brother, Adam, had questioned him sharply about the
coup. He'd merely replied that he had no idea what had happened, and
he supposed the words were true.
He flipped the postcard over. She'd
kissed the back, leaving a fire engine-red lipstick print on it, and
he smiled again as he read the words beneath it.
I owe you one.
Blake had thought the idea of seeing
her again would be painful, unthinkable. But he'd managed to put his
demons to rest, to put his experiences with Ella in proper
perspective. He'd loved her, but she was a wild thing, hard to handle
and impossible to hold. He'd tried and failed, and finally learned
his lesson.
Someday, he'd make his way back
around to her. He didn't know what the circumstances would be or what
would happen, but his heart was light as he tucked the card in his
pocket and headed for his front door. They'd be friends, if nothing
else, and that was far better than he'd expected.
Someday.
THE END
About the Author
How do you make a Moira Rogers? Take
a former forensic science and nursing student obsessed with
paranormal romance and add a computer programmer with a passion for
gritty urban fantasy. Toss in a dash of whimsy and a lot of caffeine,
and enjoy with a side of chocolate by the light of the full moon.
By
day, Bree and Donna are mild-mannered ladies who reside in the Deep
South. At night, when their husbands and children are asleep, they
combine forces to unleash the product of their fevered imaginations
upon the page. To learn more about this romance writing, crime
fighting duo, visit their webpage at
http://www.moirarogers.com
.
(Disclaimer: crime fighting abilities may appear only in the
aforementioned fevered imaginations.)
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