Vengeful Love: Black Diamonds (11 page)

“I mean every word.”

He takes a step back then drops to one knee, taking my left hand in his. My other hand moves to my heart in a bid to stop it exploding from my chest. Tears fall from both my eyes when I see the glaze across his.

“Scarlett Heath, please do me the greatest honour. Please say you’ll be mine forever.”

I wish I could speak but words, breath, running blood, a beating heart, all have escaped me and I gaze helplessly at this perfect man.

He reaches into his trouser pocket and presents me with a ludicrously lavish ring. A large, clear princess cut diamond rests in the middle of two entwined rows of diamonds, one white, one black.

Finally, an almost inaudible whisper escapes me. His eyes widen, his brows rise. “Yes,” I say louder. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”

He pushes the extravagant ring onto my finger and pulls me into his arms as he stands. I laugh as he turns us fast, round and round in the sand. He plants me down so my toes are tickled by a lapping wave. He shakes his head then wraps his lips around mine.

“I really hope they’re happy tears,” he says when we part.

“I love you to Pluto and back, Gregory Ryans.”

“Isn’t it
to the moon and back
?”

“You’re really going to comment on
me
muddling a saying?”

“I guess not. Get here.”

I leap up into his arms and wrap my legs tightly around his waist. I hold his face and I gaze down at the man I’m going to spend the rest of my life with. “The ring is beautiful. Are they black diamonds?”

“Yes. They represent your dark streak.” He smirks with a wicked glint in his eye, then whispers, “Aurora.”

* * *

Two hours later, we’ve waved Sandy and Jackson off to Barbados for another Gregory treat and I can finally have what I’ve wanted since the beach: Gregory Ryans, my fiancé, all to myself.

He opens the door to the large, minimalist penthouse suite—cream walls and carpet, oak furniture, white sofas and soft furnishings. I open the French doors to both balconies off the lounge, causing the white chiffon curtains to blow gently into the room. Gregory calls for more champagne. He’s had the hotel stock Pol Rodger 2002 and requests a bottle with two glasses and ice.

“Set it up in the lounge,” he says, before hanging up the phone and finding me. “Get here.”

He attacks my mouth, his hand pulling my hair roughly at my neck. He bends me back, my pelvis pushing into his already angry length.
He’s been waiting for this, too.
My chest rises, pushing my breasts against him, the pressure making me moan into him. He groans deep in his throat and grinds his hips against me, his teeth finding my neck.

“You’ve agreed to be mine.” His words are a hoarse whisper in my ear. “Completely.”

“Yes,” I say, breathless.

“Tonight I’ll take you. I’ll own you. Every way.” He slides his hand down my back, groping my arse over my dress. His fingers work under the silk and brush the satin thong between my cheeks. He picks up my thigh, bending my leg over his hip. “You. Are. Mine.”

I open my eyes to find two hooded, black irises fixed on me. “Yours.”

He claims my lip in his teeth, tugging possessively. He lifts my other leg to his hips, then carries me to the master bedroom, past the four-post teak bed, into the large en suite. He lowers me to the vanity unit around the white porcelain sink then moves both hands to my hair, pulling me to his mouth. He grinds hard against me. Then he leaves me squirming with need as he flicks on the walk-in shower.

God, he’s hot.

He stalks towards me, unbuttoning his white shirt and releasing the tails from his trousers. I lick my lips, hungry to feel his toned, virile body on me, over me, in me.

“I’ve had to watch you all day, looking like that, thinking about what I wanted to do to you, not knowing if you’d say yes.”

“That must have been tough for you,” I tease, as he lets his shirt fall down his arms to the floor.

“You have no idea.” He pushes my legs apart and roughly lifts my arse to the edge of the unit, grinding against my cleft.

“I think I’ve missed dark Gregory.”

“Oh, he’s still in here, baby. And he wants to fuck you. Right now.”

I push up from the unit, rolling myself against his crotch. “I’d like that.”

My head darts to the door when I hear a noise. He grasps my chin in his hand and turns my head back to him. “It’s room service.”

Straightening, I push a hand between us, rubbing his erection over his trousers. Leaning forward, I bite his pec and revel in the rumbling growl from his chest.

“She wants it rough,” he says, tugging my hair, lifting my face to look at him.

“She does.”

“Game on, Miss Heath.”

He draws down the zip at the side of my dress and pulls it over my head as steam begins to fill the room. As fast as the dress hits the white floor tiles, my nipple is in his mouth. He groans as he pulls it through his teeth, the pain making the swirl of his tongue that follows an even sweeter sensation. My back arches towards him as he performs the same trick on my other breast.

Lifting me with one hand, he yanks my thong down my thighs then bends, his tongue following the line of the satin to my ankles. He removes my shoes then rises, pulling me to him again. His lips meet my neck, then my collarbone, as his hands work my breasts.

“Take off my trousers.”

I unbuckle then unbutton him and push down his boxers and trousers, freeing him.

He rolls his hard dick against my swollen sex. “This is what you do to me.”

He lifts me and takes us into the thick steam, setting me down under the shower’s hot spray. I move a leg between his and rub against him as his tongue attacks mine, turning, licking, tasting. Then he moves to my breast, biting the nipple, sucking the most sensitive skin, drawing blood to the surface. Wild, carnal possession that has me writhing against him.

Bending, he hooks my legs over his shoulders and I squeal as he unexpectedly hoists me up, my back pressed against the white tiles above him, his hands and shoulders holding my thighs up and open, his face at my desperate entrance. I fist my hands in his hair as his tongue strikes a line up my centre and massages my clit.

“Jesus! Gregory!”

He quickens his pace, moving his tongue between seductively circling my clit and dipping into me. From here, I can see everything. Watching him control and devour me pushes me towards a climax. My shoulders roll against the tiles, I yank harder at his hair.

“Gregory, I’m there.”

He doesn’t stop, he works relentlessly until my head spins, my insides ignite around him and I scream his name.

Leaning my head back, I slide my legs from his shoulders and he lowers me down, steadying me with his hands on my hips. I drop my head to his chest as he rinses his face under the spray of the shower.

With a bent index finger, he lifts my chin. “Fuck me with your mouth.”

Gladly.

Keeping my eyes on his, I bend to my knees, my hands gliding over his wet muscles, coming to rest on to his hips. A drop of pre-come escapes his tip and I lap it up, savouring his taste. Sliding my arm between his legs, I move my fingers around his back entrance, then drag them forward along his hard base, his moan spurring me on. I cup his sack, still stroking his base, and delight in his head falling back, showing strained muscles in his neck and chest.

I lick from his base to his tip then turn my tongue around the head, taking another bead of early release. He braces his hands on the tiles in front of him. I wrap my lips around him and take him to the back of my throat in one swift move.

“Christ, Scarlett, what you do to my cock. That mouth.”

He moves one hand to my hair and holds my head still as he moves himself slowly in and out of me. His thighs tense, his arse cheeks stiffen under my hands, and his rhythm stutters. I tighten my grip, pumping quicker, turning my tongue around his tip and teasing his arse with my free hand.

“Jesus! Fuck! That’s so good, baby.”

He comes so much anyone would think it’s been longer than twenty-four hours since his last release. I swallow every drop he has to offer.

He washes my body as the shower rinses my mouth. We wrap in towel dressing gowns and I follow his orders, moving to the four-post bed, whilst he retrieves the Pol Rodger from the lounge.

Those black eyes are still unsated.

I hold out my hand but he puts the ice bucket and two glasses of champagne on the bedside unit. He tugs my legs so I’m lying flat on the bed then yanks the tie from my gown and frees my arms, pushing back the wool and exposing my body to him.

“Arms above your head,” he demands. My thighs throb in response, excited, expectant.

He wraps the wool tie twice around my wrists, then around the horizontal frame of the bed.

“I like it when you play kinky,” I say.

Despite himself, a fleeting smile curls on one side of his lips. He moves backwards off the bed, my head lifting from the mattress to watch as his robe drops to the floor. I throw my head back on a desperate laugh. He takes his own robe belt and moves to the side of the bed. I watch his effervescent champagne fill his mouth and slide down his throat, enjoying the strong rise and fall of his Adam’s apple as he swallows.

Gregory and champagne. A truly delectable combination.

His knees part my legs roughly then he leans forward and lifts my head so he can tie his wool belt across my eyes. His weight leaves the bed and I hear him moving around the room, opening and closing a drawer, then The Daysleepers’ “The Secret Place” drowns out all other noise. My sight and sound senses are completely gone, my ability to touch constrained. I worm restlessly in the bed.

Taking me by surprise, the bite of ice moves along my bottom lip and his weight moves over me, not touching my skin. The ice moves down my sternum, my abdomen, down to the top of my sex. My hips rise and the ice travels back up my body. It’s gone. Then back, circling the end of my breast in time to the slow, heady sound filling my ears. My lips part, my mouth dries. The ice travels my skin, goose bumps prickling over my limbs, and circles my other breast, the cold stinging the tip.

My breathing becomes heavy. I try to find him with my legs and fail.
Where are you?

The ice is gone and his weight moves off the mattress. I open my eyes beneath the belt and find only blackness. The track clicks over to Radiohead’s “Everything in Its Right Place.”
I tug my arms, they’re still restrained. The not knowing, the suspense, has me writhing and aching to have him.

His weight is back, resting either side of my head. Champagne bubbles trickle into my mouth and I swallow, yearning for more. Wet, warmed brut is released in a line down my chest, my abdomen, my navel.

My hips jerk as effervescence caresses my clit and falls between my labia. His hands finally touch me, forcing my legs apart before his mouth sucks and his tongue laps up champagne from my pulsing centre.

He drinks alcohol from my belly button and licks a line up my chest. His hands grab my breasts and he grinds his hard cock against me.

He lifts my hips and crashes into me on a bark that I hear over the music. He takes me hard, just as he promised. He holds me up on an angle as he hammers into me. His thumb rubs my clit, circling with the music. The assault on my senses and the force of him reaching the end of me, send a rippling orgasm through my body. My hands fist around the wool belt as my mind fogs with images of his naked body kneeling between my legs.

He doesn’t let me come down, he flips me onto my front and pulls up my hips so I’m on my knees, hands down on the mattress, arse exposed.

“I said every part of you.” His words are drenched in desire and I want nothing more than to sate him.

His knees part mine and he presses his huge shaft between my arse cheeks, making sure I feel him there. He pushes two fingers into my drenched sex and draws the moisture back to my arse.

“You need to relax.”

I nod, gripping the belt at my wrists, and my legs drop further apart.

“Good girl.”

He reaches out and I hear him click open a lid. I gasp as cold gel touches my hole. He moves it around, preparing me. I’m nervous, anxious because I know what’s coming and I’ve never had it before. But the feel of his fingers, slick through the lube, dipping inside me, it has me rolling my hips, shocked by how much I want him to claim this part of me.

He parts my cheeks wider and pushes gently, until his tip is just inside. I feel myself stretching and realise he’s started to move again. It’s strange but...okay.

“Relax, baby.”

I breathe out the air I’ve been holding as he eases himself into me.

“Fuck, that’s tight.”

It hurts at first and I don’t know if I like it. But the pain passes and I’m more acutely aware of him than ever before. The shape and size of his length. I groan, surprised by the pleasure I feel. His fingers move back to my sex, his thumb to my tight knot, torturing my body, assaulting me as he moves himself, sliding until he’s fully inside.

In a way I couldn’t have imagined, I feel like I belong to him. Like he’s taken something I’ve never shared or wanted to share with anyone else. Only him.

I push my hips back, wanting more of the new kind of pleasure. The physical and the emotional. He moves slowly in and out of me, his fingers and cock working together in time to the music, sending my head into a trip.

His cock thickens and his rhythm builds slowly, his moves taking me to a crescendo. “Not yet,” he growls.

My erratic breaths come thick and fast as he increases his pace.

“Fuck, Scarlett. I’m there, baby.”

I scream his name into the mattress and shatter. The biggest orgasm I’ve ever had rips through my body, my limbs weightless, my pelvis bucking, my head in a frenzy. He yanks my hips back and continues to crash into me until his release comes and I feel each spurt, my greedy muscles flexing in response.

He pulls out slowly, an alien feeling I don’t enjoy, and collapses us both on the mattress. His hands move immediately to my wrists, releasing me, then he takes the belt from my eyes. With one arm around my waist, he rolls us onto his back, nuzzling my neck, kissing my skin gently.