The Missing (29 page)
Authors: Shiloh Walker
Tags: #Contemporary, #Romantic Suspense, #Romance Suspense
Cullen laughed and reached up, fisting a hand in the soft, sexy curls framing her face. Gently, he tugged her head around to face him. “You were never a plaything, Taige. And if all I wanted was a willing woman in my bed, I could find one. But I don’t want any woman, Taige. I want you. I always have.”
Slowly, he lowered his head and covered her lips with his. He licked the seam of her lips and coaxed her to open them for him. She did, slowly, almost reluctantly, and Cullen groaned as the taste of her hit his system. He hadn’t ever had a woman who tasted as sweet as Taige. Never needed another woman like he needed her. She was like a drug: hot, potent, and devastating.
When she kissed him back, he felt it in every pore of his body. His skin felt too tight, too hot, too small, and he burned for more. He skimmed his other hand up her body and rested it just under the curve of her jaw. She felt so hot under his hand, so silken soft. It didn’t seem possible that she was truly as soft as she had seemed in memories, in dreams, but she was.
He needed more.
Slowly, he straightened up and waited until her eyes met his before he ran his hand down the placket of buttons on her shirt. It was simple white cotton, veeing down in the front where six plain buttons held it closed. It ended right where the waistband of her jeans began. The shirt had driven him nuts over the past few hours, because every time she moved, he caught glimpses of smooth golden flesh. It was demure enough, not dipping low enough at the neckline to give him even a glimpse of her breasts, but the body underneath it was curved, sleekly strong, and he remembered all too well the way she had fit against him.
He freed the first button, holding her gaze all the while. He’d stop, for now, if she told him to. It might take a two-hour swim in the Gulf before the fire inside him cooled, but he’d stop. Yet as he moved on to the second, then third button, Taige sat in front of him, frozen. Her hands were on the couch beside her, arms locked as though she had to brace her weight to keep from sinking backward. The shirt parted as he freed the last of the buttons, and he lifted his hands to smooth it down her shoulders.
As the shirt fell away, he stared at her nearly bare torso. Her bra was simple and white, no lace, no frills, nothing but a soft sheen that glowed against her skin and cupped her breasts lovingly. She reached behind her back, but he caught her wrists in his hands, bringing them back around, and eased them to her sides. Then, still staring into her eyes, he reached around and freed the clasp of her bra.
She shivered as he stripped the bra away and tossed it over the back of the couch. He cupped her breasts in his hands, ran his thumbs over the already stiff peaks, and watched as her head tipped back. One of those soft, sexy little moans escaped her throat, and he gritted his teeth and tried to rein his hunger in. Dipping his head, he skimmed his lips over her throat, down the delicate line of her collarbone. He pressed his lips to the plump upper curve of her breast, savoring the warm, sweet taste of her. She tasted of soap, the ocean, and Taige. Her nipples were stiff, swollen, a warm, rosy brown, shades darker than the smooth slope of her breasts. Taking one in his mouth, he bit down gently.
Arching up against him, she cupped a hand around his nape, holding him close. Damn, her taste. She was hot and sweet under his mouth but it wasn’t enough. Cullen was dying on the inside and had been for years. This was the most alive he had felt since he’d chased her away from him, but still, he needed more. Damn it, he had to have more. He slid his hands down her sides, his fingers digging into the curve of her hips. Slowly, he tugged her forward as he trailed a line of kisses down her belly. Soft skin and muscle rippled under his touch, and when he slid his fingers inside her waistband, she jerked.
He straightened up and met her gaze. Their eyes were level, him kneeling in front of her while she sat on the edge of the couch. Her pale gray eyes darkened like thunderheads over the ocean as he cupped his hand between her thighs. “I need you naked, Taige. Right now.” He leaned forward and kissed her through her jeans. “If you’re going to pull back, now is a good time.”
He braced himself for just that. But instead, she lifted shaky hands and freed the button on her jeans. “You know I’ve never been able to resist you,” she said in a husky voice. Her lids drooped low over her eyes as she hooked her hands in her jeans, but before she could push them down, he covered her hands with his, easing her jeans down himself.
She was still wearing her underwear, and he cupped her butt in his hands. Under his palms, her skin was warm—and bare. Cullen swore hotly as he traced the line of the thong that she wore. The soft black cotton clung to her hips, rode between the cheeks of her ass. Lowering his mouth, he kissed her through the cotton and hissed as he found the material already wet.
Sliding a look up at her, he said in a voice gone rough with need, “Lie down.” Taige did, but she was too far away. Grasping her ass, he pulled her hips to the edge of the couch, guiding her knees over his shoulders. Cullen tugged the thong aside as he blew a soft puff of air against her. Tight black curls shielded her sex from him. Already starved for her, he pressed his lips against her and used his tongue to open her folds. Slick, hot, and wet, and as he used his mouth on her, she got hotter and wetter, so hot she seemed to singe him and as wet as a spring storm.
Circling the entrance to her body, he held her steady as he pushed his tongue inside her. Taige screamed and bucked, her hands clutching his head and holding him tight against her. She rocked upward as he shafted her with tongue and fingers, as he suckled on her clit, as he pushed her closer and closer. He felt the warning spasm of her body, felt the powerful climax coming on her even before it hit her, and as it broke over her, he continued to lick and kiss.
His hair tumbled into his eyes as he levered his body up over hers. Lifting her lids, Taige stared at him, her body still shuddering from orgasm. He shifted her body around so that she lay full-length on the couch and then, before she had even caught her breath, he knelt between her thighs, covered her body with his, and pressed his cock against her. “Look at me,” he demanded. Through her lashes, she did, staring at him, hardly able to believe this was happening.
It wasn’t a dream, wasn’t a memory. It was real; he was real, his body hot and heavy, one big hand wrapped around the base of his cock as he pressed close, and then their gazes locked, and he pushed inside. Taige screamed. He was thick, so hard it seemed to bruise her, and he was relentless, forging deeper and deeper until he was sheathed inside her to the hilt.
She groaned and thrashed under him, working to accommodate him. Twelve years was a damn long time, and she felt as though everything in the world had ceased to exist, everything but the couch they lay on, the man above her, and the thick length of his cock throbbing inside her. Unable to breathe, she worked her hands between them and shoved against his shoulders. Her hips wriggled and Cullen swore heatedly. “Damn it, be still.”
Looping his arms under her shoulders, he caught her head between his hands, holding her still as he kissed her. With his hips, he pressed down to still her frantic movements. Taige whimpered and pressed backward into the couch as much as she could.
“You’re tight,” he muttered against her mouth. He didn’t try to kiss her, just rubbed his lips back and forth over hers, roaming upward to kiss away the salty tears streaming from her eyes. So tight, she wrapped around him in a snug, silky embrace, wet, soft, and the most sinfully sweet pleasure he’d had—since the last time he’d had her.
Silky sweet—and he was hurting her. He could see it in her eyes. Even though she was still as hot as fire beneath him, and even though he could feel the power of her need, he was hurting her. Damn it, how could he not? She was virgin tight, and once he’d pushed the first inch inside her, he hadn’t been able to stop until she had taken all of him.
It damn near killed him, but Cullen didn’t follow the needs of his body and take, take, take, taking her until they were both too breathless and tired to move. Slanting his mouth over hers, he braced his elbows on the thick leather cushion on either side of her head, taking some of his weight off Taige.
He eased his hips back, withdrawing until only the head of his cock was wrapped in her warmth and then, slowly, surged forward. When he felt her tighten around him, he stopped, withdrew, working his way inside her, and slowly, she relaxed around him. Her arms slid up over his shoulders, and her mouth sought out his. When her nails started to bite into his shoulders, he started to move faster.
Taige’s body bowed up to meet his. Their breathing came in short, ragged pants, and neither of them could see anything for the other. Cullen stroked a hand down her thigh and guided her knee up over his hip, then cupped the curve of her ass in his hand, and held her tight against him. He felt her body clench around his.
Deliberately, he changed rhythm. Taige slid her hands down his back and clutched at his hips, squirming against him. “Damn it, Cullen . . .”
He reached behind him, caught her hands, and forced her wrists down beside her head. “After twelve years of dreaming of this, this is going to last longer than a few minutes.” Not much longer, he knew, but longer. And later, he’d do it again, take her as many times in the few hours as he could. Bind her to him again. Remind her of how good they’d been together before he’d screwed it up.
Settling into a shallow, teasing pace, he nuzzled her neck and licked away a bead of sweat from her throat. Her skin glowed, and under his hands it had gone damp. Her body arched and strained against his, and the snug, wet clasp of her pussy around his cock seemed to clutch at him as though she could keep him from pulling away.
Cullen circled his hips against hers and stared at her face, watching her. Too damn beautiful. She moaned, a soft, sexy little sound that throbbed through his system like the beat of a drum. Lashes fluttered low, hiding her eyes. Dipping his head, he bit her lower lip and murmured, “Open your eyes, Taige. Look at me.”
Slowly, the fan of her lashes lifted, and she stared at him with a blind, foggy gaze. “Tell me that you love me,” he rasped.
“Cullen . . .”
He slanted his mouth across hers, kissing her deep and hard. Then he lifted up, tossing sweaty hair back out of his face. “Tell me you love me,” he growled against her lips.
She shifted under him, tugging on her wrists and squirming. “Let go of my hands.”
Cullen didn’t want to. He didn’t want to do anything but demand an answer from her, but he’d already done that twice, with no response. Slowly, he loosened his grip on her wrists. If he could have pulled away then, he might have. His heart was like ashes inside his chest, and he wanted to pull back, hard and fast. Instead, he hunkered down low over her, burying his face in her neck and cursing the need that wouldn’t let him pull away.
A strong, slender palm stroked up his back. The other hand still lay over her head, and she sought out his, entwining their fingers. Her free hand curled over the back of his neck, and then her head turned, her lips brushing against his cheek. “I love you, Cullen. Did you actually think I could stop?”
Any control he might have had left died in that second. Turning his head, he sought out her mouth. Hooking his arm around the back of her neck, he whispered against her lips, “You’re mine, Taige. Mine.” Then he pushed his tongue into her mouth and kissed her until all rational thought faded away.
He moved higher on her body so that each deep, hard stroke had him rubbing against her clit. Canting her hips upward, he changed the angle of his thrusts so he could hit the buried nerve bed inside her pussy. She lit up like the sky on the Fourth of July, screaming in his mouth, her nails raking down his shoulders, and her back arching. As she came, Taige bucked under him, hard, convulsive little jerks. Cullen banded his arm around her waist and held tight, riding her through it, chasing his own orgasm with blind fury.
It erupted from him, and he spilled himself into the wet, receptive depths of her body. Her sheath continued to spasm and clench around his cock, milking him dry. It was as though she was pulling fire from inside his body, a pleasure that was damn near painful in its intensity.
When it ended, he collapsed against her, burying his face between her breasts and sucking in badly needed air.
He couldn’t think, could hardly focus on anything but the little aftershocks rolling through his system. The one coherent thought he was aware of:
I’m never letting you go now, Taige.
I’m never letting you go now, Taige.
MINUTES passed—or maybe hours, and Taige continued to lie on her back, staring at the ceiling. She’d gone from self-disgust to acceptance to anger and all the way back again. Right now, she was right smack in the middle of acceptance. Eventually, she’d be pissed off again. At him. At herself. At everything. But right now, she was content to stroke a hand up and down Cullen’s back and listen to him breathe.
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