Embraced

5

She knew he wouldn’t do as she asked. How had she known? She was psychic, she sneered to herself. She had known because she knew Sax Brogan. Three years before, he had claimed her with no more than a kiss. A dark, sultry earth-shattering kiss that had filled her senses with visions of hot, carnal delights and her mind with her own screams of lusty need.

She had held him off with a simple request. A plea. And for years he had abided by it. Until the day he was arrested because she was attacked during a meeting that she thought would involve him. She had known when she stepped into that motel room that she had made a grave, tactical error. Not only was she losing the battle with Vince, but she had known, if she survived, she would lose another, much more personal battle, with Sax.

He didn’t say a word after loading her large suitcase into the back of his Lexus and helping her into the passenger side. He had loped around the car, got into the driver’s seat, put the car in gear and driven away from her home. Straight to his. A beautiful two-story contemporary home on the outskirts of the city, surrounded by trees on two sides and the haunting melody of the ocean on the other. It was as rugged and strong as he was.

And she had kept her mouth shut. She hadn’t demanded he drive to the hotel. She had sat in the car, silent, watching the night pass by as her pussy grew wetter by the second.

“Nice place.” She finally found the courage to speak as he closed and locked the door behind them. The room they stepped into was huge. There was no entryway, just a large, open ceiling living room that was roomy and comfortable and at the same time as enduring as she had always thought Sax was.

“It’s home. The bedroom is up here.” He led her to the double doorway, stepping into a short hall with a tall, oak staircase that led to the upper landing.

Like the living room, the hallway had an open ceiling allowing her to glimpse the railed hall above. She followed him up the stairs silently, her heart thundering in her chest, knowing she wouldn’t, couldn’t fight him any longer.

The bedroom he led her into was obviously his. The stark masculine furniture, a huge king-sized bed, tall, wide dresser and a low, mirrored chest. One wall was open, with a sturdy railing and a view of the living room. Beside it was a computer desk, the computer sitting atop it was still running, the last instant message he had received still displayed.

From Wicked, Janey just called Tally. Vince hit the house. Get there now!

“Well, so much for confidentiality,” she remarked as she stared at the screen. “I thought dispatchers were sworn to secrecy or something?”

He moved to the computer and flipped off the screen with a snap before turning away from her and tossing her suitcase on the low chaise lounge that sat in front of the doors of the upper deck.

“You can put your stuff wherever you can find room,” he told her dispassionately. “We’ll go after the rest of your clothes tomorrow.”

“Will we?” she murmured. “You and whose army?”

She faced him fully then, aware of the tension whipping between them.

He shrugged out of his jacket as he turned to her, tossing it over her suitcase. He stared back at her, his gaze vividly hot as his fingers went to the buttons of his shirt.

“I don’t need an army, Marey.” His lips pulled back from his teeth in an elemental snarl. “Stop baiting me. You know you’re going to be here, at least for a while. Why not stop fighting it, and me, and we’ll see where the hell this thing is going.”

She drew in a short, quick breath.

“It shouldn’t go anywhere,” she snapped back. “Vince is insane, Sax. Do you enjoy placing yourself in danger?”

“The most danger I intend to face is that hot little pussy creaming between your thighs,” he snarled back, jerking the shirt from his broad shoulders as his words left her knees trembling.

If her pussy hadn’t been creaming before, it was now. Thick and hot, the juices seared the sensitive folds as her clit began to throb in an erratic, erotic rhythm. Her breasts became swollen, her nipples poking against her sweater, and she was certain every inch of her body was flushed from the heat rising inside her.

“Well, you’re as direct as always.” She crossed her arms over her breasts, facing him with a frown.

“I’ve learned to be, with you.” His hands went to the waistband of his slacks, his fingers loosening the clasp of his belt with a rough movement.

“Sax.” She swallowed tightly as the belt opened and his hands worked at the fastening. “Slow down.”

He paused, staring back at her with hungry demand.

“I heeded that plea three years ago,” he said coldly. “I won’t this time, Marey. The time for games is long past.”

But he didn’t remove his pants. He came toward her instead, towering over her, making her feel weak, helpless. But protected. For such a large man, Sax had a way of turning her inside out and making her feel more feminine than any other man ever had.

“Look at you,” he sighed as he came abreast of her, staring down at her with sensual demand. “So small and perfect, your eyes darkening with arousal. Every time you look at me, I watch that, watch your eyes get dark and hungry for me. Do you know how hard that’s been to resist? How much I’ve wanted to throw you over my shoulder and take you away someplace where objections don’t exist? Where the world disappears around us and there’s nothing but me and you?”

Oh, now that really wasn’t fair. She felt the breath suspend in her lungs as her womb convulsed in longing. To hear that sexy, deep voice saying something so wickedly hot that it had her trembling in need.

How long had it been since she had known a man’s touch? Three years since Sax’s kiss. Years before that. She had held herself aloof, no matter the loneliness or the sense of isolation. It had been easier to deal with the deprivation than the rages she knew Vince was capable of.

She stared up at him, helpless, weak with the needs thundering through her as he reached out, his hands gripping the hem of her sweater.

“I’m going to taste every inch of your body,” he whispered as he drew the material over her midriff. “I’m going to eat you like candy, Marey, and listen to you scream for more.”

He was going to have her screaming for more before he even got her shirt off at this rate.

“Sax.” Her hands fluttered helplessly as the sweater cleared her swollen, unbound breasts.

No bra. She hadn’t had time for one.

“Hell, I could come in my pants just looking at you, Marey,” he sighed as his hand gripped first one wrist then the other, lifting her arms so he could pull the sweater over her head.

She was bare to him now, her breasts heaving, her nipples aching in response to the heated look in his eyes. His hands smoothed down her uplifted arms, drawing them down until her hands rested on his broad shoulders.

She trembled, shuddered in driving response as his hands lowered, cupping her full breasts, lifting them in his palms as his thumbs and forefingers tweaked the tender, responsive nipples.

She arched, gasping for breath as heat struck from the hard tips to the center of her womb. Her pussy rippled, the slick juices flowing in a rich stream to coat and prepare her for his penetration.

“Take my shirt off,” he whispered. “Come on, baby. Show me you need this as much as I do.”

She stared up at him nervously.

“I’m…” She licked her lips in hesitation. “I’m not good at this, Sax.”

Her fingers flexed against his chest as she stared up at him, imploring. Vince hadn’t been her first lover, but his abuse had all but destroyed her confidence. She was terrified of disappointing him.

Shame coursed through her. She had known it would be like this. He would expect her to participate, to know what to do, to know how to love him in turn. Her throat thickened with rage and tears as she realized she didn’t know, had no idea how to touch him, how to pleasure him.

“It has nothing to do with how good you are at something, Marey.” His voice was dark, deep, as he shrugged the shirt from his shoulders, her fingers touching impossibly warm teak flesh then.

She trembled at the feel of him. Strong and heated, the muscles of his chest bunching beneath her touch as her lips moved along his chest.

“Just touch me,” he crooned gently, weaving a spell of sensuality around her that was impossible to resist. “I’ve dreamed of it, your hands on my flesh, your lips, your tongue, touching and stroking me with your hunger. Show me how hungry you are for me.”

Hungry? She was starved. She could feel her hand soaking in the feel of him, sending the sensation to parts of her body that shouldn’t even be considered erogenous zones.

As she stared up him, she licked her lips, her gaze centering on his. Perfectly, sensually full, they looked warm, inviting. She needed his kiss. She whimpered with the need, suddenly overwhelmed with the thought of touching and being touched. God, she needed him to touch her. Just a kiss. One small, light touch of his lips…

His head lowered, but there was nothing light in the possession he took of her. He groaned, a rough, desperate sound as his lips covered hers, his tongue stroking against the seam until she parted for him, gave him permission to raid the warm depths of her mouth.

One arm went around her, clasping her to him as her hand roamed over his chest, his steel-hard abdomen. He might work at a desk, but his body was in perfect shape, muscular and hard. So hard.

She moved against him, feeling the wedge of his cock behind his slacks, against her lower stomach. She trembled, pressing closer, her head falling back in surrender, her body sliding against his as her tongue reached out timidly to his.

Racing, desperate, clawing lust bit into her with a demon’s razor-sharp bite. She arched, sizzling heat blooming in her belly and streaking to her clit, her pussy, her engorged breasts. Out of control, her hands slid up his chest, his strong neck, gripping the back of his head as his hands arched her closer, lifting her until he could grind the thick erection against the pad of her cunt.

She cried out, shaking in the grip of an arousal she had never known before. Never, even in the darkest dark, when dreams so erotic, so sensual attacked her, had she known such a powerful, driving need as what she felt now.

“Easy, sweetheart.” His lips moved from hers, his hands holding her still when she would have followed, would have begged for more.

When he refused the caress, her lips moved to his chest. Sleek, tough skin over powerful muscles. Her tongue stroked over the dark flesh, her hands moving from his head to his abdomen. She wanted him naked, wanted him hot and blistering with desire as she was. It was killing her, the sudden, powerful sensations sweeping through her.

“There you go, baby.” His deep, crooning voice urged her in her madness.

And it was madness. She was setting herself up for a fall, a small weak portion of her mind warned her. This was destruction. It was a fall from which there would be no recovering.

Her lips moved to his abdomen, close, so close to the opened waistband of his pants. And beyond. Beyond lay the object of her desperation.

She nipped at his tight flesh as his fingers threaded in her hair.

“Loosen my pants, Marey. Release my cock, baby. I’m dying to feel your hands on me. Soft, silken hands. Do you know how often I’ve dreamed of watching your hands stroke me?”

She could feel the pressure burning in her clit as he urged her on.

Her hands trembled, fumbled with the tab of his zipper, but finally managed to work it over the straining erection. She heard him moan as her fingers brushed the tightly stretched cotton of his boxer briefs as her eyes opened, widened as she glimpsed the impressive length of him beneath the material.

His fingers tightened in her hair.

“Do it, baby,” he growled, his voice resonating with the same painful hunger whipping through her body. “Release my cock. Touch me, before I go crazy here.”

She pulled the elastic waistband down, pushing at it as it cleared his thighs, freeing the dark length of his erection to her touch. She touched him timidly, amazed at the feeling of satin warmth, and beneath it, iron-hard strength. Thick veins ridged the length of his cock as the pulse of blood pounded at the flesh.

The head was flared, a perfect mushroom shape designed for pleasure, damp with pre-come and throbbing imperatively. Closing her eyes, Marey allowed her tongue to peek out, to wash over the crest, tasting the salty male essence of him as he moaned roughly.

“There you go.” His breathing was rough, his voice deeper. “Let me feel that soft little tongue. Do you know it feels like hot silk?”

She licked over the head again, moaning herself at the taste of him. She wanted him, wanted more, she wanted to consume him.