Chapter 18
Chapter
Eighteen
ARIANA
T here’s something akin to wonder in his dark eyes. When he doesn’t say anything for a beat, I tell him again. “You don’t have to tell me the details. I know what it’s like to not have your mother in your life.”
His gaze intensifies. “Your mother died too?”
I shake my head. “No. Actually, I don’t know. Maybe. She took off when I was five. I haven’t seen or heard from her since then.” The familiar ache in my chest that’s always there when I speak about my mom returns.
A crease deepens between his brows. “My mom had a long-term affair with one of my dad’s rivals, and he stabbed her in the heart with a pair of garden shears when she finally told him she wouldn’t leave my dad for him.”
My eyes widen as realization dawns, remembering him early that morning and the way he looked so forlorn when he looked past me at the garden. “In the secret garden?”
He nods, and the air rushes from my lungs.
I cup his face, and he leans into my touch. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine, especially since you were just a child.”
He squeezes his eyes shut, and the pain on his face makes me want to wrap this man in my arms and take care of him. So I do.
I wrap my arms around his waist, hugging him and bringing my cheek to his chest. His heart beats strong and steady, reminding me of the kind of man he truly is. That night after Brandon assaulted me and right now—in pain or not—Obsidian is always a strong and steady force.
Maybe that’s why I’m drawn to him. I’d do anything for my father and brother, but very few times have I ever felt I could really rely on them, that they wouldn’t let me down in some way.
Obsidian stiffens in my arms, but slowly, he wraps his arms around me, then he rests his cheek against the top of my head.
My heart rate picks up at the nearness of him. We may have already traded orgasms, but this is different. This is more intimate than either of those events. This is something more than sexual gratification.
“What’s going on between us, Obsidian?” The words burst from my lips before I can ponder whether they’re wise to speak aloud.
To my surprise, he doesn’t stiffen in my hold. He pulls back and looks at me, one hand resting where my neck meets my shoulder, his thumb lightly grazing up the column of my throat.
“I wish I knew. I can’t seem to stop thinking about you. Stop wanting to be near you.” He appears almost pained by his admittance.
“I feel the same. But I’m not sure it’s wise.” I’m a liar. I know it’s not wise.
His gaze drops to my lips. “It’s definitely not wise.”
“But we’re going to do it anyway, aren’t we?” I whisper the truth that lies between us because this pull toward each other is too great to ignore.
He swallows and presses his lips together. “It can only be sex. I can’t offer you anything more than that, even if I wish I could.”
I’d be an even bigger liar if I tried to pretend his words don’t lash me like a whip. But it’s for the best, given that he doesn’t know my true intentions.
“I’m fucked up, Ariana. In ways you can’t even imagine.” He’s apologetic.
I nod. “I understand.”
If we keep things strictly sexual, then it will be easier for me to leave, easier for me to continue lying to him than if feelings were involved.
“Do you, though?” He looks at me imploringly.
“I do.” I raise up on my tiptoes to bring my lips to his, but he rears back.
“No kissing. It’s too…”
He doesn’t finish the sentence, but I know what he wants to say. It’s too intimate, too much like a relationship, too easy to forget that this is just about sex.
Though the disappointment stings, I nod. He waits a beat, seems to resolve something inside himself, and his eyes go from apprehensive and unsure to predatory and intense. I squeeze my thighs together because to be the object of that gaze is a heady thing indeed.
Without warning, he bends at his waist and lifts me over his shoulder. I yelp in surprise but love the caveman behavior and the display of his strength. He walks us across the room, opens one of the French doors to take us out to the balcony, and deposits me on…
“Holy shit.” Once I get my bearings, I realize that he’s sat me on the edge of the ledge. We’re at least three stories up.
I clutch at his shirt in fear, but he’s holding me by my ribcage so I won’t fall. Still, one slip or wrong move, and I’m propelling to the ground.
“Obsidian—”
“Do you trust me?”
I meet his gaze, and it’s obvious that my answer means something to him. My brain quickly cycles through what I know about him, how he reacted after the Brandon incident, the look on his face when he told me his mother had been murdered.
“I do.” I relax under his hands.
Pure male satisfaction shines in his eyes. Like an animal pouncing on its prey, his mouth comes to the shell of my ear, his tongue darting out, and I can’t help but wonder what it would feel like if he did that same thing to my clit.
He may not want to kiss my mouth, but he’s definitely comfortable kissing down my neck until he reaches my breasts. “Pull your swimsuit aside.”
I do as he says so that his hands remain on me, making sure I don’t fall backward.
Obsidian’s lips wrap around my puckered pink nipple, and I moan, lust firing to life in my veins. One hand goes into his hair, and the other delves down between us to feel his hard length pressing against his pants.
When I squeeze him, he groans and gently bites my nipple until I arch my head back. My sunglasses slide off my head. I turn to watch them spiral down, down, down to the ground. It’s a reminder of how dangerous what we’re doing is. Somehow, it’s not a deterrent, only a turn-on.
My desire grows to a near frantic level where I’m desperate to have Obsidian.
He must feel it too, because he says, “Take me out, Ariana. I need to be inside you.”
I do as he says, fumbling with the button and zipper on his pants until finally the length of him is in my palm. I stroke him. He pushes his hips forward, groaning around the weight of my breast.
“Obsidian…”
The word isn’t a command, but the desperation in my voice is clear because he shifts to wrap one hand around my back while he slides his other hand between us, moving my swimsuit aside. Then he’s pushing into me with one rough shove, filling me completely.
“I can’t be gentle. I need you too much,” he murmurs against the crook of my neck.
“I don’t want you to be.” I want everything this man has to offer. I want to bear witness to how wild I make him. He doesn’t have to restrain himself with me.
With my reassurance, he pumps into me hard and fast. My arms wrap around him, sliding up under his shirt to feel the skin of his back. I slide them up and notice that the skin isn’t smooth as it should be.
The thought flickers to darkness when Obsidian changes the angle of his hips, and we both cry out at the intensity of his thrusts. He stretches his neck and angles his face toward the sky, groaning. When the tattoo on his neck is stretched out, I realize it looks like a wolf howling at the moon.
He drops his head back down to look at me as he continues to piston inside me. “So good, Ariana. This. Is. So. Fucking. Good.” He punctuates each word by slamming back inside me.
My orgasm builds until I’m frantic and desperate. My nails dig into the skin on his back as my orgasm bolts like an asteroid through the sky, red hot and unstoppable.
“Fuck yes, Ariana. Give it to me. Come all over my cock like a good girl.”
He bites down where my neck meets my shoulder, and my climax hits me. I come harder than I ever have in my life. I cry out his name as my body splinters apart in ecstasy. The orgasm rolls through me again and again like waves crashing against the shore.
“That’s it.” There’s pride in his tone.
His hands grip me tighter, his fingertips pressing into my skin hard enough to leave bruises. With a feral sound, he holds himself still and spills inside me. Every jerk of his cock is a victory as he continues until he’s emptied himself.
We remain in that position, catching our breath, wrapped up in each other’s arms for some time, the reality of what just happened settling in. I don’t regret it, even if I have to push to the back of my mind the part of me that wants more than just this. It’s not possible.
Once I’ve gained my bearings, I pull back. His wolf tattoo comes into view. I lean in once again and run my tongue over it. He hums in approval.
“Why did you decide to get the tattoo on your neck of all places? You’re always so put together and charming in front of other people. This feels like it would give the opposite impression.”
He pulls back enough to look in my eyes. “It’s a reminder.”
My head tilts. “Of what?”
“Of who I really am. Of what lurks under the surface.”
My shoulders sink. I hate how he sees himself.
Before I can tell him, he pulls his softening cock from my body. The mixture of both our pleasure spills down the insides of my thighs.
Obsidian groans and pushes his hand through his hair, transfixed on the sight before he tucks himself into his pants. I hop off the ledge and right my bikini, though it doesn’t do much in the way of making me presentable with his release running down my legs. I decide to do up the buttons on my cover-up.
“We didn’t use protection.”
My head snaps up from where I’m looking at my shirt. I’m on the pill, but still, what was I thinking? What was he thinking? He’s a billionaire, and I can’t think that women haven’t tried to trap him into an unwanted pregnancy before.
“I’m on the pill,” I say quickly in case he thinks that’s what this was about. “And I haven’t been with anyone since my last STI test.”
He nods. “I’m in the clear for STIs, too.”
“Okay, good.” I give him a reassuring smile. “Probably something we should have discussed before we did that.”
He draws me into his chest. “You’re just too hard to resist. Especially in this bikini.” He growls and nuzzles his face into my neck.
Today has been revealing in more ways than one. First, Obsidian showed me his treasure trove. Second, I now know what it’s like to sleep with this man—life-changing. And there’s one more thing I’ve figured out about him.
Obsidian Voss likes danger. He’s an adrenaline junkie, at least when it comes to sex. He likes it to be dangerous. He wants to put him and his partner in positions that risk their lives and see how it turns out. The question is—why?