Obsessed, p.13
Obsessed, page 13
Now, she’d settle for taking what she wanted. And right now, she wanted Ethan’s huge, black cock.
He’d fallen back, his arms spread, his massive thighs flat against the stage, his cock pointed toward the ceiling. That’s what she wanted.
She climbed off her chair and stepped over his body, slowly kneeling over him. “Put your dick inside me,” she said, no inflection in her voice.
Ethan grasped his cock and centered it against her opening as she sank.
His huge cock slid into her, and she began to lift and fall immediately. When his hands reached for her breasts, she shook her head, and instead, palmed her own breasts, squeezing them and pulling at the nipples. Her head fell back as she rose and fell, using his cock like a dildo to please herself, not caring whether he found his own pleasure, only needing his girth stretching and filling her.
When she’d pumped all the way down his shaft, and her smooth pussy met his coarse, crinkly hair, she closed her eyes, rested her hands on his chest and began to fuck him in earnest.
Her breaths grew ragged, her cunt melted around him, and slick cream churned between them.
His eyelids grew heavy, his breaths deepened. When he slowly lifted his knees, she didn’t complain, simply accepted the upward thrusts he gave her, as her own thighs trembled with exertion and her rising excitement.
When at last her orgasm began to spiral in her womb, she bit her lips, withholding her cries, and slammed downward to meet his strokes, their groins crashing together in harsh, grinding thrusts. Her back bowed, her mouth opened around a silent scream, and at last she fell against him.
Arms enclosed her, but Ethan didn’t urge her to move even though she knew he hadn’t come. When her breaths slowed, she pushed against his chest, disengaged her pussy from his cock, and rose.
A towel slid around her shoulders. “Well done,” Merrick murmured. “You may have the use of Ethan until you leave.”
Her gaze sliced his way.
As though he read her thoughts, his head tilted in apology. “Malaki is gone. His service to you is ended.”
She didn’t reply, just stared into his dark, enigmatic eyes.
“James has moved on to a new challenge as well.”
She licked her lips, not willing to let him see the extent of her disappointment. The man still made her skin crawl. “I won’t be needing Ethan.”
He nodded. “Enjoy the rest of your stay with us.”
She wrapped the towel around her, tucking in the ends precisely, and walked through the crowd that parted like soft butter as she strode off the stage and back to the elevator.
Once inside, tears slipped down her cheeks. She hadn’t even had the chance to say good-bye or thank Malaki for his help.
Had he thought she’d cling to him? Beg him to let her stay? She’d always known she’d have to leave, return to her own life and the problems she’d abandoned. She’d had no expectations beyond this weekend, but still her heart broke.
At last, she knew herself to be completely alone, but she wasn’t really surprised. Didn’t everyone leave her?
CHAPTER 12
Briana unlocked the front door of her house and stood aside as the taxi driver deposited her still half-empty suitcase in the foyer. She paid him, keeping her expression schooled into a polite mask. Only when the door closed did it fall away, her lips pulling downward. Her gaze took in the familiar surroundings that somehow didn’t comfort her.
Everything was exactly as she’d left it. In its proper place, tidy, as devoid of “living” as she felt. Although she’d spent the last day of her trip trying to come to terms with her future, bathing in the ocean, gathering shells and sand to bring home as mementoes, she hadn’t really come to terms with the end of her marriage. She’d just been delaying the inevitable.
Deciding she needed a cup of tea and a shower to wash away the travel grime, she headed to the kitchen and took the kettle from the cupboard, crossing to the sink to fill it.
Something glittered in the dish beside the sink.
Her ring.
The perfect stone caught the fading sunlight streaming through the window and seemed to wink at her. Its multi-faceted sparkles of light cast a rainbow of colors against the smooth tiled ledge behind the sink.
Her hand shaking, she reached out and picked it up. How the hell was it here? Who was responsible? Heather? She was the only one who knew what she’d done to finance her trip.
She left the kettle on the counter and headed for the telephone. A red light flashed indicating she had messages.
The first was Heather’s. “He knows! Call me!” was all she said.
The second was from Jonathan’s credit card company asking him to confirm authorization of a purchase.
Her heart rate escalated in tandem with her sinking stomach. What the fuck was going on?
Curious, she headed to Jonathan’s office and booted up the computer, waiting impatiently until the Internet connected. After she’d logged onto the credit card company’s Web site and checked the recent history of purchases, she sat back, shock leaving her light-headed.
The same travel agency that had booked her trip had also charged his card for three times the amount she’d paid. “What the fuck?” she whispered.
She considered calling him, calling Heather, but she wasn’t sure she was ready for answers to the questions that pounded inside her head.
A shower, first. To remove the dirt and clear her thoughts.
The shower-bath unit had always been her haven with its pristine, white tiled walls and the skylight above it that washed the stall in sunlight. As she washed, she could let her scattered thoughts coalesce, focus on the tasks ahead of her, of the life she had to begin to rebuild.
She’d seek answers to the questions screaming in her mind later.
A shadow moved beyond the frosted curtain. Her heart stopped until she recognized the shape.
The curtain slid open. Jonathan stood in the space, his white shirt unbuttoned, the knot of his tie loosened around his throat. His gaze raked her body, snagging on her bare pussy, then his face rose, heat etching his cheekbones into sharp focus. “Are you all right?” he asked softly.
Briana leaned against the back of the stall, her hands braced behind her for support. Her gaze ate up his tall, lean frame, so familiar, so damned sexy she felt tears sting her eyes.
She nodded.
“You forgot something,” he said, holding up her ring.
She must have left it beside the computer. “How…” Her throat tightened, and she couldn’t continue.
“Heather.” He set it on the counter behind him, then turned back, his expression watchful, his dark eyes glittering
She lifted her chin to nod her understanding, her gaze still clinging to him. Why was he here?
“Bri…” His jaw flexed, tautening his already tense features. “Forgive me…Please.”
Forgive him? She shook her head, not understanding. Oh yeah, Carrie the slut. How had that little fact slipped her mind? “I get it,” she blurted. “What you were trying to tell me.”
He shook his head, his mouth twisting into a snarl, but seemingly not directed at her. “I felt like a total bastard. Your face, when…I can’t forget your face.”
Briana shook her head. He wanted forgiveness for fucking a whore. And what had she just done? So much worse, not one, but three different men…
Jonathan held himself perfectly still, his eyes glittering, penetrating. “Did you find what you were looking for?”
“My trip?” He must never know. She shrugged, searching for the right thing to say.
God, this felt so awkward—both of them halting through the most important dialogue of their lives. Briana knew she had to do something or they’d never get past this gawky, uncomfortable conversation. And she did want to get past it, see what lay on the other side, whether there was anything salvageable left.
She pushed away from the cool tile and reached for his tie…and pulled him forward.
Jonathan’s astonished gasp ended when her lips slammed against his.
Her head tilted to align their noses, and her lips mashed against his.
He drew back. “My clothes. I’ll make a mess.”
“I’ll clean it…tomorrow.”
His brows rose, but he stepped fully into the tub, crowding her against the back of the stall while her hands tore at his clothing. First, the tie and the shirt that she wadded and tossed to the floor outside the stall. Then the slacks that she shoved ruthlessly down his hips until he stepped out of them.
Jonathan’s hands braced against the tile, but he hadn’t touched her yet, and Briana’s desperation to break through to him, to surprise him into reacting as violently as she was, grew.
She dropped to her knees in front of him, cupped his balls and drew his semi-erect cock into her mouth, gobbling as much of his sex inside as she could hold, then pulling back with her lips suckling hard to draw him erect.
She came off his cock and pushed it upward, scooping up his balls to mouth and lick, and then stroked his long cock with her tongue, laving it with wild strokes. At last, fully erect, she enclosed his cockhead, suctioning on it while her hands grasped his rigid shaft and pumped on him, squeezing hard, her mouth sliding forward to meet her hands, then shoving away, over and over.
Jonathan’s hands clamped around her head and pushed her back.
No! She had to swallow around him, show him what she’d learned, prove that she was willing to change and work on the fears that still lingered and could paralyze her growth as a woman, a wife, and maybe someday as a mother.
She fought him, trying to take him deep inside her mouth, but he was stronger. At last, quivering from his rejection, she released him, kneeling in the tub while the water streamed around them, her head bowed.
“What are you doing, Bri?” he asked, his voice harsh.
“L-loving you,” she sobbed.
His hands reached down and slid beneath her arms, he pulled her up until she stood, her legs shaking, but still she was unwilling to meet his gaze.
She’d failed. He thought her pathetic, pitiful.
“Briana…no,” he rasped.
Slowly, she lifted her face, letting him see her tears.
His dark eyes glittered. The dying sunlight streaming through the skylight touched the deep-brown irises, and she stared.
Golden flecks glinted, seeming to catch the sunlight and hold it, and began to glow. “Briana, let me love you.”
Her eyes widened. She couldn’t look away. She noted the tautness of his expression that drew his cheekbones and jaw into sharp relief, the full lips that pulled away from his teeth as he ground them together…but his eyes, always a deep, liquid brown…were Malaki’s magical eyes.
“You’re him? Malaki? I don’t understand,” she whispered.
“Neither do I,” he rasped. “But I wished to make amends…needed desperately to break through your fears to find you. I love you.”
Jonathan reached for the handles to turn off the water, pulled back the curtain and lifted her to the floor outside the stall. He grabbed a towel and patted her down while she continued to shake so badly her teeth chattered.
When he’d dried himself, he dropped the soggy towel on top of his clothing on the floor, then bent and picked her up, striding toward their bed in the other room.
He laid her sideways, her legs folding over the edge, and gently pushed her legs apart.
When his lips closed around her clitoris, only then did Briana come alive. She grasped his short, black curls and lifted her legs over his shoulders, welcoming his kiss, breathing in the scents that began to build between them…her pungent arousal, his spicy cologne…and a sea-fresh tang that bound them both together.
His lips tugged her into full-blown arousal; his fingers plunged into her pussy. Then his thumb began to strum her tiny, forbidden hole, softly and tentatively at first.
Briana’s heels dug into his back, and she arched, a breathy moan telling him how much she welcomed him, accepted his invasion. He plunged inside, his mouth plucking her clitoris until it swelled; he pressed his lips around it, milking it, driving her quickly toward her release.
As she fell back on the mattress, boneless, replete…unbelievably relaxed…she let him scoot her up the bed until they lay with their heads, side-by-side on the pillows.
Jonathan’s strong arms surrounded her, pulling her close, snuggling her against his still-damp body. “Forgive me,” he repeated.
“That didn’t sound like a request,” she said, a slow smile tugging at her lips.
His gold-flecked eyes glinted dangerously. “It’s too much to ask.”
Briana slid over him, her hips surrounding him, her folds riding his thick, straight cock. The way he still held her close and the fact he had yet to seek his own pleasure told her how much he wanted her forgiveness.
At that moment, she knew exactly the right words to gift him with, to make things right between them. She lifted up, captured his tapered tip with her pussy, and eased down his thick, rigid shaft.
Holding his glinting, wicked gaze, she leaned down, kissing his lips before drawing back just far enough to tangle her gaze with his. “Jonathan,” she gasped as pleasure filled her, “I exist to serve your needs.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Until recently, award-winning erotica and romance author Delilah Devlin lived in South Texas at the intersection of two dry creeks, surrounded by sexy cowboys in Wranglers. These days, she’s missing the wide-open skies and starry nights but loving her dark forest in Central Arkansas, with its eccentric characters and isolation—the better to feed her hungry muse! For Delilah, the greatest sin is driving between the lines, because it’s comfortable and safe. Her personal journey has taken her through one war and many countries, cultures, jobs, and relationships to bring her to the place where she is now—writing sexy adventures that hold more than a kernel of autobiography and often share a common thread of self-discovery and transformation. To learn more about Delilah and her stories, visit www.DelilahDevlin.com
Delilah Devlin, Obsessed
