Filthy English (18 page)

“Never.”

As he lowered his head toward mine, I thought he was going to kiss me, but he veered down, capturing my nipple with his mouth.

One touch and I yelled out, my body arching up to him.
Yes!

His tongue toyed with my breasts, moving from one to the other, even as his hands kept mine imprisoned. In the back of my mind, I told myself that this had always been inevitable since the moment we’d kissed at the club. This was fate, weaving her tapestry, making us part of her intricate plan.

Being careful of my tattoo, he swept his jaw across my chest to my hipbone, his nose running over every inch. Just when I thought he’d forgotten my breasts, he came back and licked. Bit. Nibbled. Teased.

I groaned, muttering. This was torture.

I wanted it fast.
Hard.
And then I wanted it again. And again.

“Say my name,” he said, his mouth on my shoulder, kissing down my arm, sending heated tingles everywhere.

“Dax, Dax, Dax.”

He grunted, his lips on my wrist, kissing the place where my bracelet had been. Turning my head, I watched him kiss my palm softly.

No, wait.

I struggled to get out of his grasp, and his eyes found mine.

“Don’t be . . . don’t be sweet,” I said.

He closed his eyes, as if to shield something. Nodded. “Right.”

He let my arms go and they clawed at him, pulling him down and crushing our bodies together. Nails raked down his back. I massaged the muscles that had grown since I’d last touched him like this.

He went to his knees, placed my legs over his shoulder, and kissed down my chest. As sunlight streamed in the room, he laved my skin with his tongue, eyes watching my face.

He tongued my hip, outlining my birthmark and kissing it. I screamed when he finally put his mouth on my core, my body bucking. Wet kisses and long licks. Soft touches. Pulsing over my skin. I moaned loudly, embarrassing myself. I stifled my voice with my fist.

Warmth built in my spine, sending electricity through every atom. Goosebumps rose. The hair on the back of my neck vibrated as I rushed to the edge of something wonderful.

“Say my name when you hit it.” His voice was dark, almost tortured, and I sensed the control he was keeping.

His finger slipped inside, sliding, curling over the bundle of nerves in my G-spot. He sucked my clit, leaving no part of me untouched, and I rose up to watch him, my heart in my throat, as his hand grabbed my hip to get me closer.

Closer. Closer.

His eyes locked with mine and . . .

Boom.
Sparks flew in a million directions when I came, gasping his name, my body clamping around his fingers.

Out of nowhere, unshed tears burned in my throat, regret and
love
lust fighting in my head.

Why had he never wanted me the way I’d wanted him? When we had
this?

It wasn’t just sex between us. I knew it, and I suspected he did too.

But it wasn’t enough for him to pick
me
.

Pushing those intruding thoughts away, I lay back, my body spent and legs quivering.

He stood, broad shoulders heaving, his expression off. A pulse throbbed at his temple. He looked dangerous. Bitter. And hot as hell.

Together we were a fucking mess of feelings.

He stalked over to his jeans on the floor, picked out his wallet, and pulled out a square package. Snapping it open with his teeth, he got the condom out and slid it on his straining length.

I groaned, desire roaring back. Flooding me.

He strode back to me. Silent.

Yet saying everything with his hungry eyes.

“I want you more than I’ve ever wanted any girl in my entire life,” he said harshly, looking down at me on the bed.

“You sound angry about it,” I said as I rose up to my knees and touched his shoulder, tracing down his chest, passing my name over his heart.

He shuddered, his entire body vibrating. “Remi. It’s been so long . . .”

Since he’d had sex? Or since he’d had me?

I kissed his nipple and sucked hard, my hand moving to his shaft. He grunted and tossed his head back, maneuvering to give me a better grasp. I stroked him, pumping. I loved seeing him like this. He was a total Tau, a conqueror, but I could make him weak at my touch. Ready to break at any moment.

Need clawed at me, scratching to get out. “I want to see you come undone for me,” I said.

His eyes zoomed in on me. “Tell me something, do I make you come harder than Hartford?”

I didn’t answer, but stroked my nose up his neck. I whispered in his ear, “Get behind me.”

Without uttering a word, he pushed me down on the bed, flipped me over like a ragdoll and raised my hips up.

Standing at the foot of the bed, his hands traced down my back. Soft.

His length teased my entrance, dipping in the wetness—until he was gone.

“No,” he growled and flipped me back over, positioning himself between my legs. “I want to see your face.”

Yes.
My heart hammered in my chest. Anything he wanted.
Anything.

He nudged inside me a few inches then slid back out. “Remi,” he gasped. His thumb caressed my lips, and I bit his finger then kissed it gently.

He bent over me, a dark and pained look on his face as he slid out and then back, going deeper each time, getting me used to his thickness. I squirmed, my body adjusting to the tight fit. Working up to a slow pace, he finally hit all the way home, and I moaned.

There. Yes!

“More,” I begged, rotating my hips toward him,
but he ignored me, using that torturous slow pace. He picked up the pearls, wrapped them around his hand, and tugged, forcing me to raise my chest to his so they didn’t break. He buried his face in my neck as my hands dug into his back.

“I want to be so deep inside you that nothing will ever tear us apart,” he said.

I grabbed his ass and pushed him further inside me.

“Remi, please, I’m going to break soon,” he called, his voice torn to pieces.

“Me too.”

A warm tongue ran up my neck as he pumped me hard and sure, yet with a carefulness I didn’t understand. He twisted his hips for a new position to go deeper, grinding, and I writhed underneath him, feeling the summit ahead.

I was close, so close.

His fingers strummed my nub, rubbing the wetness around. Teasing me. He wore me out, sweat dripping from his face to mine and he owned my body, making it do whatever he wanted. He was a drug; his body the antidote to all the sadness I’d suffered.

He stared down at me, his eyes dark as he opened his mouth to say something, but then didn’t.

Fire built once again, and I vibrated, grabbing the sheets and riding out the orgasm as my muscles spasmed around him.
Yes!

He froze, watching me undulate around him. My throat clogged at the torment on his face. So much emotion—from both of us—yet I couldn’t say a damn word.

Then, as if he’d flipped a switch and was done being gentle, he bent my knees to my chest and pushed my legs together. My body tightened, ready for what came next. He wanted to put his stamp on me—own me. He slammed into me, pounding, sliding all the way out and then ramming home. We scooted to the headboard. The clock fell off the nightstand. The lamp teetered as he worked me to the corner, his body pushing me higher and higher.

I begged for more. Always more.

He delivered with one palm on the wall and one pressing on my legs. Arching his back, he crested, roaring his release into the room, his cock tightening and expanding.

Collapsing next to me, he kissed my cheek and pulled me up to the pillows. He settled me in front of him, my back to his chest. “Remi . . .” He stopped, his voice thick. Strained.

I just nodded, unable to look at him. I couldn’t. I wanted to cry.

What we’d just experienced had been too great. Too incredible.

It broke my heart.

He kissed my shoulders as fingers traced the lines of my back, drawing delicate swirls on my skin, a mere nuance of touch that held me in its thrall.

Was he writing my name? His?

He was incredibly sweet and gentle in the afterglow, just as I remembered.

I never wanted his hands to leave my body.

But they would.

He’d forget about me and trace lines on some other girl’s back. And then another. All the while, I’d have to pretend like my heart wasn’t forced to jump off a skyscraper, screaming the entire way down.

What did you expect, Remi?
Flowers and a profession of love from him?

My belly grumbled and his hand stilled. In a hushed voice he said, “Hey. You must be hungry. Why don’t I run out and get us some coffee and breakfast?”

I nodded. Feeling awkward.

What should I say?

Thank you?

Oops?

Was this a one-time deal?

“Donuts?” I managed to say.

He nodded and slipped away from me gently, his hand trailing along my skin as he stood up from the bed. Abruptly, he leaned down and kissed my wrist where my bracelet used to lie, his eyes soft.

I watched as he dressed, slipping on his jeans. His gray t-shirt was next, sliding over his chest and abs as he slipped it over his neck. He raked a hand through his nearly dry hair and it fell in the usual perfectly tousled mess. He grinned at me, catching my gaze, and my breath hitched at how much I wanted him to stay in this room and never leave.

Something was off, a sixth sense as if this was the absolute last time I’d be with him.

I almost asked him to stay and we’d order room service and go for round two.

I should have, considering what would happen next—but I didn’t.

Instead, he tied his Converse, sent me a lingering look, and walked out the door.

Ten minutes later, I was drying off from a quick shower when I heard Dax knocking at the door. I should have given him a key. Wrapping a towel around my head turban-style and slipping on the fluffy white hotel robe, I plodded out of the steamy bathroom on wet feet and flung open the door.

This is it, Remi. Tell him how you feel . . .

I put a smile on my face to cover my nervousness. “Hey you. I hope you got chocolate—”

Warm hazel eyes with golden flecks met mine. Familiar sturdy shoulders leaned against the wall next to the door. He ran his gaze over me, a careful expression on his face. He exhaled and straightened. “Hello, Remington.”

DAZED, I COULDN’T
have told you a damn thing leaving the hotel. Even worse, I wandered around for a good ten minutes like a lost puppy until I got some sense and checked my phone for local bakeries. Finding one a few blocks over, I headed that way, walking at a brisk pace. Once inside, I checked out the menu and ordered two large lattes and an assortment of pastries. My mouth opened and I talked, but I couldn’t tell you what I ordered.

I was numb, reeling from Remi,
my brain as spent as my body.

I touched her name under my shirt. I didn’t regret it.

But something wasn’t right. I was left with a vast uneasiness, as if something had irrevocably changed and I’d never be the same.

As if something horrible was about to happen.

Maybe I should have stayed and kissed her on those lips and told her to forget her stupid contract.