Chapter 17
Vanessa
My breath hitched as it had done more than once. I was caught between an intense craving to simply let go and a need deep within my soul to shove Christian away. Out of my life. Gone for good.
But circumstances and a goddamn contract I’d entered into prevented even a lateral movement.
That wasn’t what had already corroded my mind.
His touch had done that.
His kiss.
Something about him felt like danger, the possession not just about six months of my life.
I sucked in my breath, wiggling across the edge of the counter as he thrust the hard wooden piece into my pussy. Time and time again he brought me to the brink of an orgasm, only to slow down. The man was certainly good at torment. Maybe I could learn a thing or two.
My eyes were closed, my pulse skyrocketing and I was rocking hard to the brutal plunges.
The music was loud enough it should block out all other sounds, but I knew he heard my heavy breathing and the sharp, involuntary moans.
I was sick with fury about my reaction, especially since the bastard had spanked me.
But with my pussy clamping around the horrible invasion, I couldn’t deny what he was doing to me felt damn good.
The climax was close, juice already slickening the inside of both thighs.
I knew drips had fallen to the sleek granite countertop.
I clamped my fingers around the end, fighting with everything I had not to allow him the satisfaction of knowing he was in control of my body.
As with everything else involving this man, my attempt failed. He was enjoying every moment of driving me crazy. I was exhausted from fighting him, tingling all over to the point it felt as if electric prods were being used.
“Come for me, Wildcat. You deserve your pleasure.”
Deserve? Was he kidding me?
“Your pussy is so wet. I can only imagine what you taste like right now. Perfect cherries.” His laugh was more of a growl, husky and deep, but I knew he was doing so to annoy me.
It was working. While the desire was strong, a stronger one existed to break every defense the man had, discovering every secret and using them against him.
Just who was Caroline? Whoever the woman was, she’d been important in his life. I made a mental note to learn everything I could about her. Once I did, I’d have the ammunition I needed. For what? Yet to be determined.
Christian was ruthless with his actions, obviously enjoying himself tremendously.
There was nothing I could do to stop the inevitable.
I lowered my face to the cool counter, taking gasping breaths as the climax rolled through me.
I bit my lip to keep from screaming even as the electricity became so powerful stars were floating in front of my eyes.
“That’s it,” he gritted out as he pumped harder and faster. In that moment and in my whacked-out brain, I was longing for his cock to be buried deep inside.
That couldn’t be normal.
I couldn’t stand it any longer, the pleasure turning into raw ecstasy. I jerked up from the counter, panting as my body shook. The tingles continued as the single orgasm continued.
Only when I started to drift down ever so softly from the sheer euphoria did he remove the wooden spoon. I lay still, trying to catch my breath, uncertain I was capable of moving.
He backed away, caressing my skin by rolling his fingers down my spine. “You’re beautiful wearing my marks.”
The sound of his voice was both irritating and inviting. My mind was still active, still trying to determine if I should just do everything I could to back away. Thoughts of my brother kept me from deciding on anything. I wanted him to be well. I’d do anything for him, but this was… Too much.
Christian was standing right in front of me and even though I didn’t want to give him a moment of satisfaction, I lifted my head.
He studied me. Calm. Amused.
Hungry.
“Let’s see just how sweet you are.” I’ll be damned if the man didn’t lick the end of the spatula.
Was he kidding me? Who did that kind of thing?
A man like Christian Elliot, and I was enthralled.
He pushed the handle into his mouth, wrapping his lips around the wood. Everything he was doing was done in purposeful slow motion. He was taunting me. I watched with fascination and disgust as he sucked on the piece.
As if it was a lollypop.
He was more than just annoying. He was infuriating.
While he was performing like some seal, I slid off the edge of the island, scoping out the fruit left on the surface.
Oh, why not? I was finished with him having the upper hand.
His eyes were closed. I didn’t know just how melodramatic he could be.
Something I could use to my advantage. With a piece of fruit in both hands, I took a step back, pitching one like a baseball. I wound up again, the orange hitting him squarely in the face.
He was so shocked he stumbled backward by a couple of feet. Seeing the look on his face brought a smile to mine and a laugh in my throat. I grabbed two more, pummeling the apple into his stomach.
Maybe this wasn’t a fair fight, but what did I care? He’d egged it on.
Laughing, I snagged two more from the floor before he had a chance to retaliate, tossing them both simultaneously. This was more enjoyable than the amazing climax.
He cocked his head, still stunned, but I sensed his brain was working overtime. I was out of fruit. Maybe I could find something useful in the refrigerator.
Backing away, I kept my grin before reaching for the door. As soon as I jerked it open, I grabbed the closest object, pitching it immediately. The splat as it hit caught me off guard.
Oh, my God. Cream.
White froth covered his face and chest, drops sliding slowly from his chin.
I was shocked, cupping my mouth to keep from making a single sound.
This was surreal, or perhaps transcendent.
Neither my reaction nor his was what I would have expected. He simply reached for a towel without saying anything, turning on the water as if prepared to wash a dish.
As he slid the thick material under the heavy stream, I took a few seconds to admire his hands. I’d had the joy of doing so with every other inch of his perfect physique, yet I’d ignored his hands.
They were as perfect as the man, strong and masculine. He wore one ring, a beautiful black onyx surrounded by diamonds. I wondered why, when he’d stroked me during raw moments of passion, I hadn’t felt the edges brushing against my skin.
Or the heavy weight as he brought his hand down against my naked bottom.
His eyes were darker than before, studying me in an entirely different way.
As if the man had no control.
As if he planned on devouring me.
I watched as he wiped every drop of cream from his face, hesitating to say a word or move. Somehow, I knew he’d hunt me down, punishing me for the sins he’d warned me about.
Why was I tingling all over from the thought?
When he was finished, he tossed the towel aside, taking a deep breath that seemed far too long.
His eyes darkened even more.
The flash of hunger more apparent.
My breath hitched as he walked forward, closing the distance as he’d done before. As he brushed his hand down my arm, sparks tingled where his skin met mine.
His chest rose and fell as he leaned in, slowly, methodically as if determined to treat what we were about to share as a rare delicacy.
This time as he captured my mouth, there was no tension, no desire to push him away. I allowed him to take control.
Barely seconds later, I moaned into the kiss and brushed my hands up his chest to his shoulders. The way his hands glided down my arms to the small of my back was thrilling, the tickle of white-hot heat tumultuous.
There were too many emotions, so many sensations that I was instantly overwhelmed. But the need, the burning desire kept me from breaking our intense connection.
Christian rubbed his hand up and down my back gently, yet with the firmness I’d come to expect from him.
The longing to touch him was magnified and I placed my hands on the buttons of his shirt, taking as much time to unbutton them as he was doing in enjoying the moment of passion.
When the task was completed, I rolled the material off his shoulders, dazzled by the heat exploding in my fingertips from touching his skin.
He allowed the material to fall to the floor, the only moment he wasn’t touching me. I sensed his possessiveness increasing. The feel of his chiseled muscles was as powerful as the kiss.
And the man.
As he fisted my hair, I closed my eyes, the anticipation of what he would do electrifying. The kiss became rough, reeking of passion and dominance. I rubbed the flats of my hands over his shoulders, marveling in his obvious strength.
He released my lips, trailing kisses along my jaw to my neck. The warm rush as his breath danced across my skin created an even deeper need within my core. With the fingers of his hand tangled in my hair, he slowly lowered the shoulder of my dress with the other.
“So fucking beautiful.” His murmur was guttural, leaving me shaking all over.
His exploration continued, the warmth of his lips as they trailed to the curve of my shoulder bringing a series of moans.
I bent my knee, rubbing my leg against his hip, longing to wrap my hand around his cock. He slipped his hand against my thigh, raking his fingertips down my shin to my foot. With a single tug, he removed my heel, tossing it to the side.
His hot, wet tongue continued to devour me, leaving my pussy clenching as the need continued to grow.
He eased his hand under my dress, flicking his fingers across my swollen pussy lips before cupping my bottom.
The way he squeezed, digging his fingers into my rounded flesh reminded me he was very much in control.
There were no questions asked, no additional rules set in motion. We both knew what he wanted.
What we both craved.
With a deep growl, he kissed me again, this time with more urgency.