Sinful Ever After (Sinful Serenade Book 5) (35 page)

That's only four days away.

In four days, I'll be a married woman.

It's a good thing—hell, it's a great thing—but it's quite the change.

My life has changed a lot in the last year. Most of it has been for the better, but it gets exhausting keeping up. I need a break from everything swirling around my head.

Pete rubs my shoulder. "What are you thinking, baby?"

"That I'd like a break from thinking."

He smiles. "Lines up with my plans for the rest of the day."

Uh... I'm already forgetting how to think anything but
yes, please, now
. My body is on fire with want. It's difficult to get words out. "All day?"

He leans in to whisper. "I'm going to make you come until you beg me to stop."

I nod. Yes, that's quite a plan. He really does have shit under control.

He presses his lips to my neck. It's soft then it's harder. "I want you relaxed today." He sucks on my earlobe. "And we both know I always get what I want."

He does.

My thoughts turn to dust as he presses his palm against me. He rubs me over my jeans, groaning lightly as he nibbles on my ear.

We're in the back of a cab. The driver can glance in the rearview mirror to watch.

The exhibition of it sends a thrill to my core. My lips part with a sigh of pleasure. This already feels good enough to chase away my thoughts.

I soak in the movements of his hands and lips for the rest of the ride. Then we're at the hotel. He takes his time shifting away from me. His dark eyes are filled with desire. There's something else too, something commanding.

He undoes my seatbelt and opens the door for me.

I'm in a daze of lust as he slides his arm around my waist and leads me through the hotel lobby.

This time of day, the elevator bank is quiet. He leads me onto an available—and mercifully, empty—elevator and taps in our floor. The elevator rises.

Pete turns around and gives me a long once-over.

I unbutton my coat reflexively.

He slides one hand around my waist, then it's under my sweater, against my lower back. His hips press against mine—he
is
hard—then they're pinning me against the elevator wall.

The intensity of his stare melts something in me. His eyes are brimming with desire. It's fucking amazing.

He leans in to kiss me. God, what a kiss. My lips part to make way for his tongue. Then our tongues are dancing. Kissing him is always intoxicating, but this is something else.

We're really getting married.

This is really forever.

His hand brushes the waist of my jeans. Then my jeans are unbuttoned, unzipped. He slides his hand into my panties.

I groan into his mouth as he strokes me. All that stuff about musicians being good with their hands—it's all true. I'm almost there already.

The elevator dings. Our floor. He pulls his hand away then buttons my jeans and my coat.

He plants a long, slow kiss on my lips.

When he pulls back, he smiles a truly evil
damn, do I enjoy teasing you
smile. I only catch my reflection for a minute. It's enough to see that I look as flushed and desperate as I feel.

I might be in over my head here.

I squeeze his hand on the way to the hotel room. "What if it's too much, if I want you to stop?"

"Say stop." He unlocks the door and whisks me inside. "This is about bringing you pleasure, baby. It's not about depriving you of anything."

His voice is low and steady. Mine feels scattered and weak by comparison.

I try to cultivate all the confidence I have. "I like when you give me orders."

"I know." He looks me up and down. "Take off your coat."

I leave it hanging on a chair.

His voice shifts, deeper and more demanding. "Strip to your bra and panties. Slowly."

Hell yes. I watch delight spread over his face as I hang my sweater and blouse over my coat. It's hard taking off my boots, socks, and jeans in a graceful manner, but I manage.

I rub my thighs together. Then my palms. There's a desperate ache in my core. Nothing will satisfy it except for him.

"Fuck, you get more gorgeous every day." He pulls my glasses off, gently, and sets them on top of my jeans.

He takes his time running his fingers over my body. Every brush of his fingers winds up the tension in my core. I'm still on the edge, still in need of release.

He sighs with pleasure as he cups my ass. Then he's lifting me into his arms. He carries me to the bed.

He sets me on the bed and presses his lips to mine. "You're nervous."

"A little." Okay, a lot.

He runs his fingertips over my cheek. "You're in control of this. If there's anything you don't like, tell me to stop. Doesn't matter how much I'm enjoying it." His expression gets intense. "Promise?"

"I promise."

He smiles that same evil smile. It lights up his face. His dark eyes are practically shining.

He sheds his coat on the armchair in the corner. My gaze goes straight to the erection straining against his jeans. It's not mine yet. It's not mine until he sees fit.

Pete pulls something from the bottom drawer of the dresser. It's the same restraint that was under Tom's old bed at the Hollywood place. He's been hoarding it.

He hooks it around the headboard. His eyes meet mine. "Take off your bra."

I nearly fling it aside.

He motions,
come here
.

I do. Then his fingers are on my wrist. His touch is soft as he cuffs me. He moves to the other side of the bed and cuffs my other wrist.

I'm tied to the headboard.

I really am at his mercy. The revelation sends another pang of lust to my core. I do my best to sit up straight, my back against the headboard.

My eyes stay on Pete. He takes his time stripping. First the shoes and socks. Then the t-shirt. The jeans.

He slides his boxers off his hips.

Mmm. He looks so fucking yummy naked.

I press my fingertips into my thumbs. I'm wound up. I need release.

His expression intensifies as he wraps his hands around my ankles. Slowly, he pulls my body toward his. I push off the headboard. Then I'm flat on my back, my ankles on the edge of the bed.

Pete places himself between my legs. His eyes stay on mine as he drags his fingertips from my ankle to my knee then all the way up my thigh. Slowly, he drags his fingers back to my ankle.

He does it again and again. Each time, he gets closer.

His fingertips skim the peak of my inner thigh. My sex clenches from the proximity. I need his hand on me. The wait is torture. It's beautiful, sweet, delicious torture, but it's torture nonetheless.

He presses his palm against my inner thigh. "You want to come on my hand, baby?"

"Yes."

His fingertips skim my sex, feather-light. I shudder. My heels knock into the mattress.

He does it again and again.

He does it until I'm writhing on the bed.

"Please," I breathe. My eyes catch his. There's that same intensity in his stare.

He likes being in control. But there's more to it than that. There's a tenderness, a focus. He's fixed on
my
pleasure.

His breath hitches as his touch hardens.

It only takes a few moments of his fingers on my clit to push me off the edge. The unbearably taught tension releases as I come. I shudder and shake and scream his name. Pleasure spreads to my toes. I feel the release everywhere.

I'm not sure I've ever needed an orgasm as badly as I needed that.

He drags his fingertips over my thigh for a moment. Then he's rubbing me again.

It's intense. My eyes close. My breath gets heavy, impossible to control.

There's no way for me to contain this. I try squeezing my toes into the sheets, but that doesn't help. All I can feel is the intensity of the orgasm building inside me.

I bite my lip.

Almost.

Then I'm there. I scream his name as I come again. It's faster and harder than the last orgasm.

The look in his eyes is clear. He's going to make me come again. I'm not complaining—not even close—but I want this to end with him coming inside me, not with me begging him to stop stroking me because I can't take it anymore.

I press my knees together. My voice is needy. "Fuck me."

He runs his fingertips over my inner thigh. His voice is commanding. "Not until you come on my face."

I groan.

He leans down to press his lips to my ankle. "Twice to start."

To start?

The man is trying to kill me.

He drags his lips up my calf and over my inner thigh. I squeeze my toes. I'm already overwhelmed with pleasure.

But there still isn't a single molecule in my body that wants to protest.

His breath is nearly as heavy as mine. He moans against my inner thigh. It's amazing music.

But then there's this other music. Something familiar. One of those bands he likes.

His phone. It's ringing.

He ignores it, moves a little higher, nips at my skin.

The phone rings to voicemail. It stops for a second then it's going again.

And there's something else. Someone is knocking on the door. It's not the polite knock of the staff. It's frantic, desperate even.

Pete pushes himself up. Frustration fills his expression. "You okay tied up while I check that?"

I nod. There's something appealing about being tied up waiting for him.

He grabs the towel from the bathroom, cinches it around his waist, and goes to main room.

With the bedroom door open a sliver, I can hear the faint whisper of conversation at the door. It's a woman's voice and she's crying. She's frantic. She's really familiar.

That's Willow.

Before I can contemplate what it is that's wrong, there are footsteps coming closer. Pete steps into the room.

His tongue slides over his lips as he looks me over. "Should be five minutes. Want me to untie you?"

That sounds like an eternity, but the breather will do bounds for my stamina.

I shake my head. "I think I need the break."

He smiles as he throws off his towel and slides on his jeans. Only his jeans, no boxers.

He's naked under his jeans.

His fingertips trail over my ankle. "Don't think I've changed my mind about you coming on my face."

This time, he closes the door. It's for the best. I don't want to eavesdrop on their conversation. I'm sure it's about Tom. You'd think that, with what Nathan did to me, I'd get antsy about how close Pete is with his brother's wife, but there isn't a single part of me that doubts his fidelity.

He's mine and I'm his. In a few days, the world and the state of Nevada will know it.

I let my mind go wild imagining his body on top of mine, his deep voice in my ears, his cock buried inside me.

He does things to me. He wakes up this demanding, blissful part of myself.

Their voices quiet. Then the front door opens and his footsteps come closer.

This time, he pushes the door wide open.

He leans against the frame. "Spread your legs, baby. I want to look at you."

I do. Again, he looks at me like I'm a masterpiece.

His dark eyes are filled with delight. He looks as hungry as I feel.

Pete moves closer. Then he's on the bed. His hands curl around my inner thighs.

He pins my legs to the bed and brings his lips to my skin. He kisses his way to the apex of my thighs.

Then his mouth is on me.

He licks me up and down again and again. Each time, his motions get faster, harder.

I groan as pleasure builds in my core.

I try to reach for him reflexively. But I can't. My wrists are bound. The reminder sends another shockwave of desire through me.

I'm at his mercy.

His fingers dig into my flesh as he licks me. His strokes get shorter. faster. He starts to focus on the spot that always gets me there.

His tongue flicks against me again and again.

I shudder.

I shake.

Almost.

My knees fight his hands. I'm so fucking close.

But his mouth moves away. I sigh with frustration.

The fucking tease.

He takes his time sucking on my lips, plunging his tongue inside me, playing with different speeds and pressures.

My sex clenches. I'm still at the edge. I can't take this anymore. I need to come. "Please."

He's there immediately. He starts soft then gets harder. Harder.

My breath hitches as I race toward an orgasm. A few more flicks of his tongue and I'm coming. I press my legs against his head.

"Fuck, Pete." I groan. "Fuck me. Please."

He murmurs something against my thigh. His teeth scrape against my skin. Then his mouth is on me again.

I've barely recovered from my last orgasm. But his soft, wet mouth feels fucking good.

My eyes close. Almost.

Almost.

Fuck. I scream incomprehensible things as I come.

The man doesn't waste any time. He pushes himself up and shimmies out of his jeans. His eyes fix on mine as he slides his hands under my ass.

With one strong motion, he thrusts deep inside me.

My body floods with relief.

With his next thrust, I forget everything in the world but the two of us.

I stare into his gorgeous brown eyes. This really is where we belong.

His voice is low and needy. "Come on my cock, baby. I want to feel your cunt pulsing around me."

My conscious mind is gone. My body really is under his command. I nod. I arch my hips to meet his movements. Again. Again.

The tension in my core knots. With his next thrust, I'm there. I can feel my sex pulsing around him, pulling him closer and deeper.

"Fuck, Pete," I groan. I blink my eyes open to look into his. "Come inside me."

He groans with pleasure as he lowers his body onto mine. He plants his hands outside my shoulders. His lips go to my neck as he thrusts into me.

His movements get harder, faster. I can feel his orgasm in the way his body shakes against mine. The muscles of his torso clench and relax. His thighs too.

I lift my hips to push him deeper.

Then he's there. He groans my name as he comes inside me. His breath goes wild as he finishes.