Bound for Nirvana: (The Bound Trilogy Book 3) (29 page)

My words appeared to steal his breath and a small sob escaped his lips. He leaned in and closed them over mine, his tongue dipping into my mouth, seeking and lapping. The contact sparked an immediate hunger somewhere deep inside me, like the first sniff of a drug to a starving addict. I deepened the kiss, drinking him in, taking what was mine to feed my depleted strength.

Ethan sensed my need immediately, his strong arms encapsulating me, his mouth responding eagerly—his need was as great as mine. Suddenly, his hands moved to grip the hem of my sweater, breaking the kiss momentarily to tug it over my head. Then his fingers were delving into my bra, reaching greedily for my aching breasts as he freed them from the confines of the lace material. He teased my nipples into hot, rigid buttons of flesh, pulling and stretching until I moaned gently into his open mouth. The ecstatic sensation of pleasure fusing with pain sent darts of electric urgency to my damp, heated sex, and I was certain that if the onslaught continued, I would come from this alone.

“I can feel your need, baby.” Ethan’s voice was hoarse and ragged.

“Feel it,” I responded. “Because it’s you that I need. Fuck me, E. Fuck me until I can’t feel anything but you inside me.”

Ethan groaned and with his hands on my hips, urged me to stand. He tore his T-shirt over his head before dispensing with my shoes and then grappled with the button and fly of my jeans, tugging them, along with my panties, swiftly down my legs. I stepped out of them without pause and looked down at him.

The emotion from before was still evident, but now it was swamped in pure, unapologetic desire. There was a hungry urgent need behind those smoldering eyes—a need to lose himself in me in order to control the anger and hatred he felt for my father. And a need for me to do the same.

He knelt before me, strong, denim-clad thighs parted, bare chest heaving, his eyes following the languorous trail of his hands as they made their way from my ankles and upwards. As I gazed down at him there at my feet, his expression seeped in adoration and reverence, it was as if I were some supreme or sacred deity to be worshipped.

Suddenly, he pushed to his knees, and I groaned in ardent anticipation. The way his tongue slid provocatively over his lips was a firm promise of what was to come. The breath hissed from my lips as his hot mouth closed over my quivering flesh, his tongue pushing between the seams, spreading me, before plunging deep into my sex. My muscles pulsed and clenched around his expert tongue as it probed and explored, bringing me swiftly close to the first auspicious swellings of orgasm.

My hands tunneled into his hair, grasping him to me, inviting him closer, deeper, as I thrust helplessly toward his greedy mouth. Warmth flooded my body, surging through my veins like liquid fire. Ethan raised his hand, spreading it over my lower belly, his thumb reaching to circle and press my pulsing clit as he continued to fuck me mercilessly with his tongue.

I came apart in a violent rush of sensation, my tortured nerve endings unraveling as I exploded, my sweet, silken nectar melting into his mouth. “Ethan,” I gasped at the ferociousness of my climax, hot tears searing my eyes and tumbling onto my cheeks. He lapped at me gently, dragging every last bit of glorious, orgasmic sensation from my body until I began to tremble and shake.

My legs gave way as I crumpled to the floor, and he gathered me in his strong arms, tenderly kissing away the warm, salty tears from my face. Pushing gracefully to his feet, he carried me through the apartment to our bedroom, laying me carefully on the bed. Kicking off his chukka boots and jeans, he crawled on to the bottom of the bed and gently tapped my leg.

“Turn over.”

Accepting the command eagerly, I flipped onto my belly, pressing my cheek into the pillow. Ethan’s presence was so potently powerful I could sense him towering over me, his hands parting my knees to enter the space between my legs. His hands settled at either side of my head, his arms supporting his weight, his body braced above me. My eyes traveled up over the curves of his flexing biceps to his powerful shoulders as slowly he lowered himself blanketing my body with his soft, heated skin.

“I love you so much, baby.” His breath was hot against my neck, his mouth offering gentle nibbles and kisses down and across the curve of my shoulder. The sensation sent a heated wave of desire cascading down my back, a direct link with my drenched and trembling sex.

“Nobody will ever hurt you again.” His words were a pledge, a sacred promise as they rumbled gutturally past the raw, pent up emotion he harbored deep inside.

A gentle sob shuddered from my parted lips as the protective barrier I’d sealed around my bruised and battered soul earlier finally crumbled away. I needed him now more than I ever thought possible. Needed him to fill me, to own me, to help me to breathe.

As if he could read my thoughts, he whispered his reassurance in my ear. “I’m here, baby. I’ve got you.”

The tears began to fall again, dripping quietly down my cheeks to melt into the pillow. Ethan’s fingertips trailed softly down my side, his connection to my body shifting slightly to accommodate his hand. I felt the whispering touch of his fingers glide gently over the hollow of my back and down through the ridge of my buttocks.

I tensed as the tip of a single finger cautiously burrowed its way into the seam to slowly circle the puckered skin of my anus. An involuntary gasp burst through my lips. Anal play was somewhere we’d never ventured before, never having needed additional stimulation to satisfy our needs. The sensation felt alien, but not unpleasant.

“Shh,” Ethan reassured me quietly, shifting his weight onto his knees and pulling me with him.

His body was still curled possessively around me, both of us on our knees, his inside mine to splay them wide open as he tucked me underneath him, cocooning me inside his protective embrace. I lay with my elbows pointing out, my forehead resting on my interlaced hands. His fingers moved, brushing over my clit and into the saturated folds of my sex. My body quivered as they dipped inside me, once, twice, circling through my arousal and then back toward my anus, coating the area with my moisture. I groaned at the exquisite sensation as the pressure increased, the pad of his thumb pressing firmly against my tight, unwilling opening.

“Relax, baby.” His words vibrated gently on the back of my neck, inciting their own aroused reaction.

Suddenly, I felt the wide silken crest of his hot, pulsing cock nudge into the slick entrance of my sex and my body convulsed with wild anticipation. The friction against the hypersensitive nub of my clit was almost enough to send me swirling into climax. My muscles relaxed, eagerly accepting the first few inches of the welcome invasion. I arched my back, tilting my ass upwards, to bask in the delicious pressure as gradually he slid inside me, opening, stretching, filling me. He stilled, allowing us both to adapt to the snug, constricted fit. My bowed position offered easier access to my ass, and as if accepting the invitation, he increased the pressure of his thumb on the opening, his fingers gathering lubrication from our combined arousal.

A fine mist of sweat gathered between our connected bodies as he began to move slowly inside me, our hearts beating in unison, our breath coming in ragged, hungry gulps. He flexed his hips, the penetration sinking so deep, it was exquisitely painful. As his momentum built, so did my ability to take him, and I found myself rocking back to meet his punishing thrusts, my body beginning to heat from the impending orgasm as it brewed blissfully in the depths of my loins.

His fingertip continued to stimulate the opening to my rear, and to my surprise I began to respond, my taut muscle becoming pliant to the probing pressure. Suddenly, he stilled and my body let out an involuntary moan of protest at the loss of friction, my approaching orgasm wilting. Then the rhythmic compression on my rear opening began again, and I found myself pushing back wanting more, willing him to move in me and suddenly his finger slipped inside. My muscles clenched reactively as I held my breath, an automatic response to the foreign invasion and the sudden overwhelming fullness.

Ethan moaned. “Relax, baby. Just let me in. I want you to feel me in every part of you.”

Angling my face to the side, I accepted the fluttering kisses he rained up and over my shoulder, to my jaw, my cheek, and then finally thrusting his tongue between my lips to claim my mouth. “Here…” he lapped at my tongue “…here…” he flexed his hips, rubbing his rigid length along the sensitive walls of my sex “…and here.” His finger slid deeper into my rear.

My body shuddered in exhilarated accession, and a soft moan grated helplessly from my throat. Willingly, I relaxed, pushing back to urge him deeper, needing the friction, and my response elicited an erotic, almost feral groan from the depths of Ethan’s core. Powerless to resist, he began to move again, slowly at first, his hot, pulsing cock circling inside me, his finger delving inside my forbidden velvet tunnel.

“Oh, baby. I want to possess every part of you, fill every void in you—body, heart, mind, and soul.” His tempo increased, hips thrusting, finger driving a steady rhythm. “I want to touch you in places you’ve never been touched.” I rocked back, meeting every eager thrust. “That way there’ll be no room for anyone else. Nobody will get inside your head, or damage your heart, or betray you ever again. Because if they try, I’ll be here waiting to tear them down.”

The raw sincerity of his promise, combined with the complete devastating possession of my body was my unraveling, and I spiraled irredeemably and violently toward climax. My muscles convulsed, tightening and clenching as my orgasm struck. Undulating waves of insanity driving, agonizing bliss, plowed through my body as I quaked beneath him. Ethan let out an animalistic howl as he followed, spurting hot and thick inside me, his thrusts long and drawn and relentless as he rubbed out the remnants of his orgasm.

We collapsed, our bodies boneless and sated and slick with perspiration. We belonged entirely and unapologetically to each other, physically, emotionally, and in every way humanly possible. Our ragged breathing abated as he curled around me, tucking me inside his secure embrace. Our emotions were contained—at least for now. I thanked God for Ethan, for the love he immersed me in and for the strength he instilled in me.

And then I slept.

When I woke, he was gone. The light in the room told me it was late afternoon and as I pulled myself from the warm comfort of the bed, I heard the sound of muffled voices from down the hall.

Tugging on Ethan’s shirt, I padded out of the room as I heard Jackson’s familiar, gruff, London accent leaking down the corridor from the direction of the office. When I approached, he was stood with his back to me, hands thrust deep into his pockets, his stance rigid with tension.

“Security downstairs couldn’t ID the guy, he was wearing a motorcycle helmet with a blacked out visor. They didn’t sign for it, just called me, but by the time I got down there he was gone.” Jackson’s voice was dripping with fury. “I’ve got a couple of the boys checking CCTV for a vehicle. I couldn’t trust the contents—that’s why I opened it. Sorry, boss.”

What on Earth were they talking about? I edged nearer, expecting Ethan’s response to provide me with a clue, but he didn’t utter a word. Instead, there was an ominous, almost sickening silence.

“Hey.” My greeting cut cautiously through the dense atmosphere as I stepped into the doorway alongside Jackson. He turned to glance at me, his eyes narrowing suspiciously before his gaze darted back to Ethan. “What’s happening?”

Ethan sat in his office chair, his hands in his hair as he perused what looked like a pile of papers on the desk. When he looked up, his expression was grave. The flush of excitement that was evident in his cheeks earlier had vanished, leaving them ashen in color. His lips were pulled taut and bloodless with rage as he glared at me.

“What the fuck is this?” He threw the heap that was in front of him toward me, the stack of what I could now see were a selection of photographs, scattering haphazardly across the desk.

I shook my head with a perplexed frown and crossed the room to get a closer look.

What I saw stopped my heart.

They were pictures of me with Sloane, captured in what could only be described as an array of questionable clinches. Sloane with his arm around my waist, pulling me tightly back against him. Sloane with my hand in his, raining kisses across my fingers. Sloane with his face nestled into my neck, whispering in my ear. Sloane brushing the back of his fingers over my cheek—and more. Many more.

My eyes darted to meet Ethan’s burning gaze, his eyes glazed with moisture and teeming with hurt. “Ethan.” His name was a plea on my lips, hoarse with incredulity. “This is not how it looks.”

“Oh? Well at least we can agree on something. Because how it looks, is fucked-up.”

I gaped at him helplessly, knowing how this seemed, but not having a clue where to start to convince him that what he saw in these pictures was… lies. “Ethan, please, you have to listen. This…” I picked up a picture and shook it in anger “…this is bullshit.”

“Bullshit? Is that all you have?
Bullshit
?” He yelled the last word, causing me to recoil at the venom in his tone. “From the person who’s spent her entire career making sure the camera never lies?”

I sensed Jackson silently leave the room.

“Let me explain?” I pleaded quietly.

He sat back in his chair, his bunched fists clenched tight in front of his trembling lips. “Please… do.”

“I ran into Sloane on my way out of Central Park the other week.” I launched into a detailed account of my encounter with Dominic Sloane on the day Ethan had met with the PI. I told him all about the peculiar sense of déjà vu, about everything Sloane had inferred about it being the site of the accident and how he thought he could help me deal with my pain. I didn’t neglect a single aspect of the confrontation, recalling and explaining everything about the way he touched me, in an attempt to justify how it could be misinterpreted in the pictures.

When I finished, Ethan continued to stare at me, his expression devoid of any legible emotion. My heart constricted with panic as I felt him slipping away from me. “Ethan, I understand how these pictures could give you cause to be angry. But you should be angry at whoever took them. Because this is a set up. They intended for you to react this way. But… really? You really feel you have to question if these are for real? Everything you know about me, everything we’ve been through, everything you know you mean to me should be enough to know that, yes—these are
bullshit
.”