“Oh, God,” I breathed out, feeling myself expanding to accommodate him. He wrapped his arms around my waist and nuzzled into my throat, and then rocked slightly, drawing out a groan. I settled against him, letting him guide the flow of it. Feeling his lips nuzzling lower. I arched my back as he dipped down to take my nipple into his mouth. The sensations combined between my breast and that fullness inside me, and I clenched my muscles around him, reveling in how perfectly we fitted together.
He kept up his slow, grinding rocking, letting me sink onto him and stay locked there. Even here, he was too far off; my demons were still lurking. I stared down at him, etching his features into my mind. At last, my aching heart decided it could let go. And I exhaled.
He was glowing. Somehow. His dark hair faintly golden, and I dimly registered we were surrounded by mounds of golden-yellow blossoms. It didn’t make sense, but all that mattered was the spiraling inside and I clenched around him again, held him deep, tried to find breath again.
“Come for me,” he said softly. “Let me watch you come.” And even though he’d done it a thousand times already, it was different this time. My release came like fire, washing over me in waves, and his hand cupped my face, fingertips tracing my lips as I cried out his name. The tears were all gone
∞∞∞
When I roused myself later, he was lying beside me, propped on one elbow, staring down at my face. I shifted uncomfortably, not used to such scrutiny.
“How are you feeling, Sweetness?” he murmured.
I smiled. “Better. Thank you.” My voice was still husky, thick from the tears, but it was true. I felt lighter somehow. I shifted again, aware of something cool and unfamiliar beneath me, and turned to look at what I was lying upon. The carpet was strewn with swathes of yellow tulips crushed beneath us.
“I brought you flowers,” he said, reaching for an intact bloom and threading it into my hair. I raised a hand and found more there; he’d woven a crown of them into my curls.
“Oh!” I replied, the word holding dismay. “I’ve ruined them.”
He shook his head. “Best bouquet I’ve ever seen.” He winked and brushed his lips over the tip of my nose. “In fact, I think I might just take up floral arrangement as a career.” It made me grin back at him.
“I don’t think I can spend my life lying naked in beds of flowers,” I responded, definitely feeling better.
“Why not?” he asked. “I can’t think of a better way to improve the beauty of blossoms.” He was rising to his feet, and I pouted, reaching a hand to him. He curled his fingers through mine, then pulled away. “You need to rehydrate,” he said. “And I’m pretty sure you need food too, if that growling belly is anything to go by.”
I felt my cheeks flush and put a hand over my flat stomach. “You were listening to my stomach rumble?” I laughed.
“Pretty hard to miss it, Sweets,” he chuckled, heading through to the kitchen. I watched him hungrily as he moved to the kitchen, but it had nothing to do with my belly. Well, perhaps below…
He was breathtaking in the silver lights cast through the windows over the city. Tall and lean; each taut muscle clearly defined. There wasn’t an inch of him that didn’t seem honed to perfection.
I’d never paid much attention to the male form before. Sex was something I’d endured – from far too young, I knew. Although I seldom let myself think of those nightmare years. After the unwanted invasions by my foster father, I’d held myself apart from men. There’d been some youthful fumblings, a half-hearted relationship here and there. But for the most part, I kept men at arm’s distance, and never with this much intimacy.
Prince Walker strode through his world like he owned it – whether naked or clothed. And I was starting to appreciate that brutal confidence more and more. He moved about the kitchen with a casual grace, smooth and easy, everything effortless. Prince glanced up and saw me watching him, and his lips curled up. There was a dark edge to the beauty of his smile, but then, there was a dark edge to everything about him. Perhaps that’s what I found most magnetic about him. Perhaps I needed a man who might just be more fearsome than my demons.
I shifted myself into a seated position, dimly aware of a faint blue glow from nearby. My phone. I’d muted it. Aside from sending a note to my personal trainer to cancel our session, I’d been too overwhelmed to look at it after Angelique had left. I knew there’d been a string of missed calls from a number I was certain belonged to Manolo Gutierrez. But I was terrified of having that conversation right now. A part of me seemed to believe that if I didn’t take his call, it would all settle down. It wouldn’t. I reached for the device, feeling a tremble in my fingers that rippled into my arm. I slid my finger over the screen. The latest message was from an unknown number, and I opened it, stomach churning.
Sweet Jesus…
I clapped a hand to my mouth to stifle my sharp cry. Emilio’s wide eyes were staring at me from a face that had been beaten to a bloody pulp. The picture was accompanied by a message that simply read:Answer your phone.
I shot a look up at Prince, who was still moving around the kitchen.
Oh, God!
I felt frantic for a second. Somehow, I was on my feet, and he looked over at me.
“You good?” he asked. I wasn’t accustomed to this new version of the man who’d spent the past couple of weeks twisting me in knots.
“Just…need the bathroom,” I mumbled as I hastily made my way past him. He nodded and went back to briskly chopping something on the board in front of him. My hunger was completely forgotten. I felt utterly sick.
I made it into my bathroom and shut the door just in time to catch the call.
“It seems that you’ve met with some good fortune, Sasha. I must congratulate you,” an oily voice slithered across the line. I couldn’t have replied if I’d wanted to.
“I’m glad I have your attention at last,” Manolo Gutierrez, aka Razortip, said smoothly.
“Yes.” My answer was a hoarse whisper.
