The Shadow: The Original's Trilogy Page 17

  “Oh, stop.”

  Their laughter faded and he perused her room, looking for inspiration for another anecdote, if needed.

  “It doesn’t—” She tipped her head back to stare at the ceiling. “What happened doesn’t have anything to do with sex. Or with you, or any man.”

  The violent energy that had been thrumming through him settled. She hadn’t been raped. “That’s . . . good.” Simple words, maybe, but heartfelt.

  “I get . . . sort of . . . claustrophobic. When I’m weighed down. I don’t like to be on the bottom.”

  He concealed his reaction to her soft confession, surprised she admitted even that much. “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  “I’ve always been partial to bottom myself.” He spoke in the same tone he might have used to say he preferred sleeping on the left.

  “You’re not angry?” She studied him as if she’d never seen anything like him. “You’re not going to tell me I’m being foolish?”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ve found that what may seem the silliest of preferences are often bred from self-preservation and conditioning. For me—” He hesitated, never having told anyone this secret and finding the admission more difficult than he’d expected. He rushed the words out. “I can’t sleep with my feet uncovered.” Bloody hell, what a manly confession. Damn near akin to “I can’t sleep without my blankey.”

  Her brow furrowed. “Why?”

  He leaned his head back. “We had vermin in the choky. The rats, they’d get hungry.”

  Understanding lit in her eyes. Something changed in her demeanor, calmed. A small smile curved her lips. “Why do you prefer the bottom?”

  “Ah. That’s all owing to the view.”

  She grinned as they lapsed into silence. Her gaze drifted to the Tarot cards pinned to the wall. “Do you still want me?”

  He had to strain to hear. “I’ve never wanted a woman more.”

  Those midnight eyes of hers fixed on his. Women had always been easy for him to figure out, at least in the small capacity he allowed himself to know them. This one, though, was an enigma, one he would be happy to spend his existence puzzling out.

  She rose to her knees and crawled onto his lap.

  Unsure of what to say, he held his tongue. Instead, he concentrated on keeping his body under control. Tried not to notice how she stared at his lips.

  “Can I?” Her thumb touched the corner of his mouth. “I want to see . . . .”

  He gave the barest of nods.

  She leaned in, brushing her lips to his in a sweet tease of a kiss. Once. Twice. She lingered, her tongue tickling a path across his bottom lip.

  He couldn’t contain the groan stirring in his chest.

  She jerked back, staring.

  He fought the urge to cajole. Come on, Duchess, kiss me blind.

  Grinning, she rewarded him with another kiss, deeper. Hotter. Straddling his legs, her hands curved around his neck. Her body pressed into his and she kissed the breath right out of him.

  He surrendered any ideas of remaining un-aroused. Something about her stirred him. Maybe her slightly sweet taste, the scent of lemongrass lacing her hair, her satiny skin, or the way her body fit his. He craved her like a man lost at sea craves fresh water.

  Her mouth was wild, her pelvis rubbed against his and he moaned low in his throat. Wanting her to do it again, he tried moving his hands to direct her to his desire before he remembered she’d bound him. “Again.”

  “This?” She rotated her hips against him in a wicked lap dance that caused fresh bolts of need to sizzle through his body. Their labored breathing timed her movements. Just when he thought he couldn’t stand any more she pulled away.

  Her hands slipped around his throat, palms flat against his skin, fingers touching at the back of his neck, thumbs stretched toward his Adams apple.

  She applied the slightest of pressure as she stretched her hand farther around his neck. If she wanted to see if her thumbs would touch, she’d never make it. Her hands were too small. His neck too thick.

  Her lips parted, she shifted in his lap. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re a very”—her gaze met his—“large man?”

  “Maybe once or twice.” Christ, if she kept wriggling like that, she’d see exactly how large. She did it again. This time her eyes closed. The minx was doing it on purpose. “Keep that up, Duchess, I’ll give you something just the right size to wrap your hands around.”

  Her eyes opened. “I want you.” Her statement added that last inch of steel to his cock. “But I can’t be worrying that you’ll do something that might . . . make me hurt you.”

  Ah. She intended to leave him like this. If he gave her the go ahead. As if there were a question in all that. He’d rather touch her. He wanted that thick, black hair twisted around his fingers. Wanted to learn the weight of her breasts. Stroke every last inch of her skin. Lick and nip at every ticklish spot on her body. Find a way into every nook and cranny she had.

  He’d need to convince her she wanted all that, too. He leaned forward, much as he could, and couldn’t quite reach her. “Come here.”

  Her eyes stayed open and she swayed closer, but not quite close enough to make it easy for him. He grinned. “Tease.” He strained that last centimeter. Bit down gently on her bottom lip and sat back against the wall, taking her with him.

  Those dark eyes widened.

  That’s right. You don’t have as much control as you thought you did.

  He stroked his tongue over her lip before releasing her. “It’s hard to kiss you when you’re all the way over there.”

  A smile flashed over her lips. A blush stained her cheeks. “I’m nervous. It’s been a while.”

  “Think I’ve got you beat there.” Her hands drove him to distraction, stoking over his chest and shoulders, her gaze followed their every path.

  “Oh? How long?”

  “Since I took Harry in. Almost five years.”

  Her hands paused their exploration. Her gaze lifted.

  “Don’t worry, Duchess, I still remember what to do.”

  This time, she laughed. Her hands slipped over his shoulders and she pressed herself close. All those feminine curves snug against him. “Guess it couldn’t have changed all that much.”

  When he shook his head, they bumped noses. She laughed again. Low. Sultry. The sound made his cock twitch. “Last I heard, people still get naked first.”

  “I heard they kiss.” She shifted in his lap. The heat of her sank right into him. “Maybe rub up against each other a little.”

  His breath shuddered out. “Yeah.” He nudged her a bit with his chin to get her into position, teasing the corner of her mouth with little kisses. “Like this, yeah?’

  “Mm. Yes.” She shook her head.

  Christ, she was sweet.

  “Maybe like this?” He parted his lips, letting her breath waft over them. Letting her taste his scent. Her lips parted, too. She leaned in and he leaned back. She whimpered. Enough teasing. He took possession of her mouth. Swept in and tasted her; sweet, salt and the tiniest tang of blood.

  She clung, her nails digging into his shoulder, her heat pressing down on him, making shivers flit over his flesh. Her breasts rubbed against his chest through her clothes. She shivered.

  He lifted his knees, forcing her up, and sucked on one nipple though the thin bra and tee she wore. Her arms closed around his head, pressing him closer. “Goddess, yes.”

  Her nipple hardened, but all he tasted was the cotton of her shirt. He wanted her skin, damn it. “Take the damn thing off.” He needed her naked. Wanted all that silky skin riding over his.

  Her gaze met his, desire clashing with challenge. She must be used to riding heard over her men in the past. “Off.” She’d learn to like his way.

  She pulled her shirt over her head, tossed it aside.

  He devoured every nuance of her bared flesh with his gaze. The color of warm tawny beige, her skin had a fres
h, soft look that promised to feel of satin. She had an incredible figure, petite yet curvy, her flat belly had a small dip of a navel. She ran her fingers over one of the lacy cups of her bra. “This, too?”

  He followed the motion of her hand, along the edge of the cup to where the damn thing clasped in front. When would they start making the damn things with Velcro? He could’ve managed Velcro even with his arms bound. “You remember what I said the other evening?”

  Her eyes darkened, she bit her lip.

  Yeah, she remembered. “Bet right now every last inch of your body is hypersensitive.” He stroked his tongue over the rise of her breast. “Bet you can feel the air sliding into your body, and over your skin with your every move.” He bit down on the edge of her bra, dragged it down until her breast spilled out. “Beautiful.” He traced the outline of her areole with his tongue.

  Her breath hitched.

  “Bet you can feel every fiber of those clothes you’re in. Now, I can play nice. Fulfill every last one of my promises. Or—” He dragged his stubbly cheek down the curve of her breast.

  The bra disappeared. She didn’t take time to remove it, instead spell-casting it off.

  Don’t you dare smile, you’ll get her all riled up. He drew her nipple into his mouth, sucking lightly, then harder until—

  “Oh.”

  There, that’s what she liked. He kept it up until she writhed in his lap, every shift and wriggle sending tingles of need straight to his cock.

  “Dunc.”

  Switched to the other breast and repeated until she moaned. Teethed lightly on the bud. “You want more?” He nipped the underside of her breast, stroked his tongue over the spot.

  “Yeah.”

  “Take the rest off, Duchess. Let me look at you.”

  She sat back on his thighs, her gaze following the path of her fingers as they roamed over his skin. No one had ever admired him like that before. Never. He couldn’t drag his gaze away from the way she looked at him.

  This wasn’t an adventure to her. She wasn’t using him to forget or hurt someone else, like Gertie. Unlike Satrina, she wasn’t posing for him, or holding back. He felt wanted. Needed by her unbridled efforts to arouse and please.

  She leaned in, her mouth trailing behind her hands, exploring the contours of his torso with bold inflaming strokes and heady kisses. Lower, down the ridges of his stomach, her breasts brushed over his erection, his thighs, as her tongue delved into his navel. She undid the front of his trousers. Her knuckles ghosted over his cock. Jesus.

  He needed to look away long enough to regain control, but he couldn’t. Not when she sat up, hooking her fingers around the waist band of both his pants and boxers and hauled them down the length of his legs. Certainly not when she stood to shimmy out of her jeans. Definitely not when she kissed her way back up his legs, nipping at every sensitive spot she found along the way. If he had looked away, he’d have missed her satisfied smiles when his muscles tensed under her lips. And he sure as hell wouldn’t have been prepared for her next move.

  She enveloped him in the heat of her mouth. No teasing first. No shy touches. Just straight down his length and he damn near came. He groaned. His lids slid shut. His head fell back as she dipped lower, taking in more of him, stroking his cock with her velvet tongue. When he opened his eyes, it was to find her staring up at him while she worked him. Watching. Taking in his every reaction. Not judging. Not looking at him with disgust. She acted as if she cared, and damn it, he could love her for that alone. She was his mate. His. He set his teeth against the exquisite pleasure. He needed to be inside her. Now. “Gotta stop. You’re gonna make me come.”

  “Isn’t that the point?”

  “Come here.”

  She got to her knees, held on to his shoulders as she spread her legs to sit over him. When she settled in his lap, her pussy nestled right up against the length of his cock. All that wet heat so damn close. “Let me up.”

  Her eyes clouded. “I told you—”

  “I gave you my name, damn it. You gave me access to any house you’re ever in. You want this—” He flexed his hips which made his length slide against her.

  She gasped.

  Chills washed over him. “—you give me your trust.”

  She worried her bottom lip between her teeth.

  He flexed his hips again and, Jesus, that felt good. “Give me your trust, Duchess. I’ll keep us both safe.”

  Whatever had been holding him to the wall, released him. Slowly, he lowered his arms, giving her a chance to get used to the idea. He brushed her hair back over her shoulders, gathered it at the base of her neck. Twisted it around his fist. “You trust me?”

  A shadow of doubt flitted over her face, but she nodded. It was enough. For now.

  He pulled back on her hair gently, forcing her mouth up to his. “I’m not going to pin you down. You’re going to trust me to keep my own ass on the mattress.”

  A little more confidence entered her expression. Again she nodded. She squirmed against him. “Dunc.”

  He trailed his tongue over her bottom lip. “You want this?” He bit down, drawing her lip out before releasing her. Slanted his mouth over hers while cupping her bum in his free hand. Pressed her harder onto his length.

  Christ, much more of that and he’d be done. He spread his legs, sliding her back so he could get his hand between them. Under her. She was so damn wet his finger slid right into her. Her breasts rubbed against his chest as she shifted and pressed down, looking for more.

  He added a finger. Just that little bit and he filled her from wall to wall. Damn, this was going to be a tight fit. He pressed his forehead to hers.

  Her hands wrapped around his cock. Stroked. Squeezed the head. “Fuck.” Everything in him wanted in her now. The need to take thrummed through him, sending shivers over his skin, making his breath hitch.

  Without pulling his fingers away from her, he pushed her back on the bed. Kneeled over her.

  Her eyes widened and he paused. “No weight.” He slid his fingers out of her, pushed them back in. “Want to taste you, love.”

  *****

  She couldn’t quite tell which was more overpowering, her desire, the sweet tension flooding through her, or anxiety that he might forget their agreement. He’d promised to keep his ass on the bed but his bum faced the ceiling. Still, he didn’t try to put any weight on her. He sat back on his heels, leaned down, and—

  An inarticulate sound strangled out of her throat as sensation burst over her like lightning—intense, white-hot. Her fingers clenched in the bed sheets as his slick, persistent tongue stroked over her. Her breasts throbbed. Her belly bottomed out. Shivers darted over her skin. When he closed his lips around her clit and sucked . . . her breath caught as pleasure burst over her, made her twitch and convulse. His fingers rode in and out of her, drawing out her orgasm, slowing in time with the pulses of her body. Even though she’d come with enough force to make her want to sleep for a week, when he slid his fingers out, she whimpered. Reached out to bring him back.

  He pulled her back into his lap, to the ambiguous safety of his embrace. His cock brushed against her pussy and need started building again. His mouth slanted over hers.

  “Taste that?”

  She did. She tasted herself on him, caught her scent on his skin and while it shouldn’t turn her on, it did. He smelled of her. Tasted of her. His mouth tracked down to her neck and she let her head fall back. Shivered when his teeth scraped over her throat. Shuddered when he sucked at a spot below her collar bone.

  She held on to him, her arms spread wide to accommodate his shoulders, her legs spread wide to accommodate the rest of him. He was so damn big it was an effort to wrap herself around him.

  That turned her on, too.

  Goddess, she wanted him. It had been so damn long since she’d been with anyone. To be with her mate, even if only this once, meant everything.

  “More.” She rubbed her cheek against his. Nipped his ear lobe before drawing it in
to her mouth. She wanted her scent all over him.

  The blunt head of his cock pressed against her entrance. Thick. Solid. She lifted herself a tad, just enough and as he breached her, she bit down on his shoulder.

  “Mm, that’s it.”

  “Damn it, Dunc.” He was huge everywhere. She sank her nails into his shoulder, the back of his neck. Breathed through the stretch.

  “I’ve got you.”

  That he did. He had her wrapped around him. He had her halfway impaled on him. Had her twisted around his damn finger. “More.” It came out far more as a plea than the demand she’d intended.

  His hips turned strong as iron as he flexed, giving her something to push down on. Inch by inch. His calloused hands curled around the outside of her thighs. Her hands cupped his head. Her forehead rested against his. Mouth open. Eyes closed. Inch by blissful-fucking-inch until he was seated deep inside her. Her muscles trembled around him.

  She opened her eyes to find him staring back.

  You’re mine. He wasn’t a handsome man. But right now, with him filling her, surrounding her, his gorgeous hazel eyes filling her vision . . . she’d never seen a more beautiful man.

  “You’re beautiful.” His breath came in shuddering pants between parted lips despite the fact they weren’t moving. “Ah, Duchess, you have no idea what you do to me.”

  Warmth swelled in her chest. He was giving her a line, one used on any number of women before her she was sure, but for tonight she’d let herself believe it.

  For tonight, he belonged to her. You’re mine.

  He kissed her, urgent, possessive as they rocked against each other, finding their rhythm. He cupped her breasts, rolling the nipples between his fingers. She arched back in response, her hips moving in a circular motion, grinding down, seeking pleasure for them both.

  As the tide of their passion crested, his rough hands caged her ribs, urged her up so she could experience the length of him sliding out, gliding back to fill her. He lifted her again.

  Deep, coiling tension settled in her core, her muscles growing taut, straining. She whimpered. Each slick glide made the tension wind tighter. She raised up and lowered again until they were flesh to flesh. The scent of their arousal rode in on each breath. His muscles flexed under her hands with each thrust. His gaze never left hers as he pumped into her. His hands slid up her back, gripping her shoulders from behind, adding more force to every thrust, deepening each stroke until release raged through her.