Wicked Pleasures (26 page)

Her cry was ragged, shocking her. She fisted her fingers in the sheet, pulling at it as his hand slid down her stomach, caressing and touching as he suckled at her.

The sensations were building inside her. One atop the other, each touch making each shard of pleasure sharper, deeper. Opening her soul further to his touch, despite her vow to keep him from that deepest part of her.

But he was taking it, overtaking it, overwhelming her. As she stared into his eyes, she could feel him inside her.

His lips moved from one nipple to the other, his palm cupping the mound while his other hand slid between her thighs, his fingers feathering over the curls there.

"I want you bare here," he told her, the words barely registering. "Promise me, Jaci. I want your pretty flesh bare for me. Nothing between you and my touch."

"Yes." She was only barely aware of what she was agreeing to—to the need to feel him, skin on skin, on every part of her body.

His smile was tight, triumphant, as he licked at her nipple, then moved lower.

His kisses were like touches of fire, laser points of exploding, cascading desire that wrapped around her mind and her senses.

"I need to touch you," she cried out as his lips traveled down her stomach, his hands pushing her thighs farther apart.

"Not yet," he breathed against her flesh. "Stay just like that, Jaci."

His breath whispered over the saturated curls between her thighs as she arched and fought to breathe. Oh God, she couldn't handle this. It was too much.

She could feel the perspiration gathering on her body, heat filling her to the point that she expected to see flames at any second.

"Get ready." His fingers parted the swollen lips between her thighs. "Now it gets hot, Jaci."

It wasn't hot yet? She was dying.

She stared down at him, her eyes widening as he reached to the side of the mattress and lifted several items she hadn't seen him place on the bed.

"Cam." She heard the hesitancy in her own voice.

"No means no," he told her again, pausing. "Be sure before you say no, Jaci."

She licked her lips, catching the lower curve between her teeth as he laid the items between her thighs.

"One step at a time," he promised. "One pleasure at a time. I promise. Slow and easy."

His head lowered and his tongue swiped through the juice-laden slit, flickered around her clit as her senses exploded.

Jaci felt her hips arch involuntarily, felt pleasure wash over her in blinding, heated waves. The sound of his murmur of approval against the swollen bud was nearly too much pleasure. Her lashes fluttered, almost closing before she forced them open once more, locking her gaze with his.

"Good girl," he whispered, and delivered a gentle, sucking kiss to the tormented bud, and she trembled and shook at the sensation.

It was never-ending. The pleasure kept rising and rising inside her. His tongue licked and stroked, two fingers slid inside the weeping entrance of her pussy, where he stretched her, caressed her, and had her arching closer.

Her orgasm was just out of reach. Tormenting, burning. It built inside her with no hope of ease. He slowly pulled back.

"Don't stop." Her voice trembled as hard as her body. "Please, Cam."

"Turn over for me." His hand cupped her hip and lifted.

"Not yet," she cried out. "Don't stop yet, Cam."

He smiled. Warmth, lust, desire, and hunger were reflected in the curve of his lips. Approval glowed in his eyes, but it didn't sway him.

"We're not finished yet, sweetheart. Just a little while longer. Just a little more pleasure."

"You're going to torture me," she moaned, but she couldn't complain too hard—because it was unlike anything she had known before, anything she could have ever imagined.

Sweet heaven, the pleasure was incredible. It was flashing through her, brilliant rays of sensation so hot, so incredibly deep, that she wondered if she would survive it. And he said there was more?

Cam watched her eyes for as long as possible. Those brilliant green-and-blue-flecked depths, not really hazel, the colors too intense for that, as they glazed over, grew mesmerized with the pleasure.

She was wanton, adventurous, more so than she even suspected. He saw it in her eyes, and when she settled on her stomach, he saw it in the quivering curves of her ass.

She knew what was coming. She knew what he needed. At least part of it.

There was a point where a woman surrendered everything to her lover—physically, mentally—when she gave up control, trusting the one that held her to protect her pleasure, to draw her into the final sphere of pleasure.

At that point, her body belonged to the hand that brought that pleasure, and her body was willing to give up every measure of sensuality and surrender to the right touch.

He smoothed his hand over her ass. Soft, rounded flesh trembled and tensed, and he smiled tightly. She was almost there—not quite, but getting closer.

He eased the thong from her, watching as her thighs and buttocks tightened, lifted to him, then eased back to the mattress. Once there, she shifted again, pressed deeper, searching for enough friction to ease the ache in her clit.

His hand landed on her ass, the flesh blushing slightly as she gasped and grew still.

"Relax," he murmured.

"Relax?" The moan in her word was filled with need.

"You need to relax for this." His hand lowered again, delivering a burning little caress to her rear, and this time, she lifted to him.

Moving to her side, he let his lips trail down her spine. For every kiss along the silken flesh, his hand landed on her rear. The delicate, burning little slaps had her moaning within seconds, lifting, reaching, the additional sensations whipping inside her as she begged for more.

Her voice was dazed, almost incoherent. Her body shook, trembled, and the muscles of her ass eased; and as his lips reached the dimpled rise, the cleft of her buttocks parted easily beneath his fingers.

He kissed each cheek, then kissed inside the cleft. A second later, his tongue rasped around the puckered entrance as a shuddering cry tore from her lips.

He was burning with her now. He could feel the edge of his control fraying as he lifted her hips, turned, and eased his head beneath her before pulling her to him. He needed this. Needed to show her what she meant to him. The need for it tormented him.

His lips sank into fragrant, sweet juices. Her cry filled his ears. As he licked at the spill of sweetness he lubricated his fingers, then found that tender, tiny entrance once more. The toys. The play. Keeping her sexually off balance aided the slight distance he needed now.

Jaci's eyes flared wide and unseeing, ecstatic, burning pleasure swamping her senses, as she felt the smooth glide of his fingers in her rear, his lips at her sex.

She tried to twist in his hold, to get closer, but his arm tightened around her hips, holding her in place. His finger slid deeper, retreated, then another joined and entered.

She screamed out at the sensations. Surely she couldn't bear it. It was too much. Too much pleasure, too much heat. She could feel tiny explosions whipping through her senses, her mind, her body. Nerve endings were exploding with pleasure, burning.

Her nails dug into the bed, fractured cries tore from her lips as his tongue circled her clit, drew it into his mouth, and brought her close. Oh God, so close. She was so close to exploding, to finding a pleasure she knew for certain would destroy her, tear into her soul, leave her wasted and reaching for more. She would always need more now, would always beg for it.

Just as she was begging now, her voice torn, ragged, as he stretched her where she had never been truly stretched before. Preparing her for a possession of more than just her body.

"Now!" He pulled from between her thighs, ignoring her attempts to scream, to protest the throbbing, aching emptiness inside her pussy, the gnawing agony of her clit.

"Don't stop."

"Never." His voice was ragged as his fingers eased from her, then returned. Eased back, returned again. Lubricating her further, stretching her farther. Creating a need inside her that she suddenly feared would destroy her mind.

"Cam. Please." Her head dug into the mattress, her nails clenched at the sheet, finally tearing it away from the mattress as she felt him move closer, his hard thighs brushing against hers as the head of his cock slid against the prepared entrance.

"Easy," Cam crooned.

She felt the cool edge of the curved vibrator against the entrance of her pussy. It entered slowly, penetrating her as she writhed and tried to take more. She needed this. Needed it so desperately she was dying inside for it.

"Beautiful." He sighed behind her as the vibrator wedged inside her, the curled end pressing against her clit, the soft vibration tearing through her bundle of nerves.

"Hold it for me." He pulled at her arm, caught her hand, then drew it beneath her. "Hold it right there, sweetheart."

Her fingers curled against it, holding it in place. She was past denying him anything at this point.

Then she felt him, hard, thick—so hot. The crest of his cock pressed against the entrance to her ass, parted her, sent flames exploding, burning, tearing through her. It was pleasure and pain, agony and ecstasy, and she was dying for more.

"Cam!" She tried to scream his name, but she couldn't find the breath to scream.

"Should I stop, Jaci?" His voice was ragged, growling.

"No! Don't stop. Please. Oh God, Cam. It's killing me!"

She tried to rear back, tried to take more. A hard chuckle sounded behind her, and he eased farther inside her. Stars exploded behind her clenched eyelids, her body drew tight, juices spilled down her thighs.

"All of me, sweetheart." His rough croon stroked through her as he eased back, then eased farther inside. Retreating, then penetrating farther.

"Mine." The sharp declaration of possession had her womb clenching, more juices spilling around the intrusion of the softly vibrating erotic toy.

Each slow advancement inside her rear tightened her pussy further, filled her more. Nerve endings became more sensitive, electrified, desperate for release.

She was crying now. She could feel the tears as they mixed with the perspiration on her face, need clawing inside her until she was certain she wouldn't survive it.

"Easy, baby. Sweet love. So tight and sweet and hot." His hand landed on her ass again, and she almost exploded. "So beautiful. So giving."

He pulled back, forged inside, deeper, taking all of her as she took all of him. She felt his balls, tight and hot, pressing into her, felt his cock, so thick, scorching, wedged inside her.

He was breathing roughly behind her. His breath sawing in and out of his chest, then his hands suddenly clenched on her hips.

Cam could hear her cries, the broken words, the pleas. He could hear the surrender in each broken cry and feel it as her ass flexed around his cock. He could do this. Take her like this. Find the distance by not staring into her eyes.

The vibration of the curved dildo echoed through the thin tissue that separated her pussy from her rear, the added sensation driving spikes of agonizing hunger through his veins.

God, he wanted to see her face. Her eyes. He wanted to be beneath her, watching her, filling her tight sex as Chase took her from behind. The ultimate surrender, and it was denied to him. He needed to give her this. She needed it or he might lose her forever.

He gritted his teeth and fought to take her easy. He pulled back, then reentered her. He shook his head, felt the sweat roll over his shoulders, chest, and abdomen. He felt her tighten, bearing down on the intrusion as she managed to push back, to force his cock deeper. And he felt his control break. He felt everything inside him flow into her, and thanked God she couldn't see his face.

She writhed beneath him, fucking back with each stroke and demanding more. She was wild in his arms, her auburn hair flaming over her shoulders, her head lifting as she rose before him, moving around him, begging for more.

He pressed her shoulders back to the mattress forcefully with his palm below her neck, gripped her hips with one hand, and began to thrust powerfully inside her.

Her ass rippled and clenched around him. Her cries filled his head. He was seconds—dear God—only seconds away from ecstasy.

Jaci fought the hold Cam had on her, feeling the burning pleasure and pain envelop her as he fucked her with smooth, hard strokes. The vibrator rocked inside her, curled up along her pussy, and pressed into her clit, driving shards of sensation through her womb.

Each strong thrust was agony and ecstasy. Each pushed her higher, burned hotter, deeper. She screamed his name, felt his hand land hard on her ass one last time, and then she exploded.

She couldn't breathe. Her eyes jerked open, dazed, unseeing, her body tensed, tightened, then a ragged scream left her throat as everything unraveled inside her with furious, blazing rapture. Explosions erupted in her clit, her pussy, her womb. Clenching, convulsing, she jerked beneath him then cried out again as he thrust inside her one last time before giving in to his own release.

And that release, buried so deep, sending thick, hot jets of his semen erupting inside her, threw her higher. It was more than the physical pleasure, more than the wicked intensity. It was the possession. A possession that defied the limits of either pleasure or pain finally erupted inside her soul and left her shaking, replete, beneath him.

Jaci collapsed on the bed as Cam shuddered behind her, his chest pressed tight to her back, his lips at her ear, his voice whispering, crooning, approving.

She didn't know what he was saying, couldn't make sense of the fractured words, but it didn't matter. She was drifting on clouds of pure satiation now, dazed, mesmerized by the aftereffects of his possession, as he slowly pulled free of her and collapsed on the bed beside her.

The vibrator eased from the tight clasp she had on it as he slowly pulled it free and silenced it. She heard a thump, a drawer grate closed, then he was pulling her in his arms, surrounding her with his warmth.

She didn't want to move. She wanted to drift here forever, so replete that even her soul dozed, sated with such an excess of pleasure that she didn't want to move. Not forever. Or at least for a few more hours. She wanted to stay wrapped in the intimacy of being alone with him.

She didn't know how long they had lain entwined, exhaustion wrapping them together. But she knew when she felt him move. Cautiously, carefully, he untangled his body from hers, rolled to the side of the bed, and sat up.

She stayed still, praying, hoping against hope that he was going to lie back down beside her, that he was going to hold her for just a little longer—doze with her, let the final remnants of what he had done to her ease inside her before he deserted her.

Finally, long moments later, she heard him breathe out roughly, then felt his weight ease from the bed.

Damn him. Pain poured through her as she felt a sheet settle over her slowly, then listened as he picked up his clothes and left the room.

He would be back, she told herself. He wouldn't leave her alone like this, not after the pleasure he had just given her, the soul-deep possession he had just taken of her. He would not just desert her.

But he had.

She waited, listening carefully, and finally heard the muted drone of the television, the refrigerator door closing in the open kitchen.

Her eyes opened and she rolled over in the bed slowly, suddenly so lonely she could barely stand the feeling that poured through her.

Lifting herself from the bed, she pulled on a robe and then collected a pair of soft, cotton pants and a sleep shirt, before moving from the bedroom.

Standing at the entrance, she stared through the open rooms at the man that had just loved her as no other man had even had a chance to. In the time he had spent with her in that bed, he had marked her body and her spirit, laid claim to her heart, and left her pulsing in bliss. And now he was breaking her heart.

He sat in the recliner, a beer on the table in front of him, the television droning as he sat forward, his elbows braced on his knees, a heavy scowl lining his face.

He looked as lonely as she felt, and just as alone. Like a man who had faced a battle and came out on the losing end.

Moving toward the living area, she watched as his head lifted, his gaze flaring as he stared at her. His eyes were filled with shadows, with torment.

"I'm going to take a shower before I fix dinner. Would you like to join me?"

She took him by surprise. He blinked back at her, his lips parting as though he wanted to say something, before they pressed together firmly, and he gave a sharp nod.

"Cam."

He stopped as he moved to push himself from the chair.

"I can understand that you have an aversion to beds, but the next time you leave me like that without letting me know, without a touch or a word, then I'll walk out of this relationship. Do you understand me?"

His eyes narrowed on her.

"You hurt me," she continued. "Keep hurting me, and whatever's growing between us will turn bitter. That's the only warning you're going to get."