Tease Me (Teased and Broken Book 1) (10 page)

He shuddered against me. “Fuck,” he breathed. “Elena.”

As my tongue rolled languidly over his wounds, his hand drove into my hair again, and did that fierce rubbing, crazy massage on the back of my skull. My toes twitched. I pulled back from him, and we stared into each other’s eyes for the longest time.
 

“I think I am falling in love with you,” I admitted, hearing the shyness in my voice. “It makes no sense. It’s far too quick. It’s… perfectly insane. But it is what it is, an imperfect fucked up mess.”

His mouth twitched, but he said nothing for the longest time.
 

“I understand,” he said finally. “Because I feel the same way about
you,
Elena.”

Then he seized me roughly against him, drawing me into a frenzied kiss, he kissed me so hard it hurt, he pushed the panties aside, his warm large hand covering my mound, and then pulling harder still as the same two fingers that had been doing a rather wonderful job at pleasuring and infuriating me at the same time with the shield of the satin between us, skittered down to rub gently up and down the outside of my lips.
 

“You are so wet,” he breathed in amusement, and then inserted those naughty digits of his into my pussy forcefully. I cried out, and rocked gently against him, as he worked me into a whimpering mess, with the stroke and flick of those fingers. The combination of the pulling sensation on the top of my pussy and the way he fingered me so expertly was truly outstanding. And then the sudden absence of him from down there, as he crushed me to his chest, and spun around, and lowered me gently, and reverently to the day bed by the spa, was truly shocking. So too was the maddening whiplash I was getting between gentle and forceful. He alternated both seamlessly, and judging from the truly hideous panting noises I could hear coming from myself, it was working out for me just fine.
 

I thought he intended to lay his beautiful body on top of mine, but he remained standing, his dark green eyes staring right through me, his hands raked through his hair in apparent distress, his lips were moving soundlessly over words. He was muttering in another language. I had not idea what the fuck he was actually saying. But it sounded pretty hot. Until I realized with a shiver, I did recognize this language. What the hell? It was an incantation. It was from old demonic lores. I knew it. I had heard it. My Grandmother had spoken it. It had been a spell I remembered. A spell of protection. He was shaking as these words rumbled out of him. Terror. I felt
his
terror as it hit me in waves. What the fuck? So much for not being a practicing Warlock I thought.
 

“Thorn?” I heard the concern in my voice, as I reached for him. “What is wrong?”

Why was Thornton Darko invoking this old protection? I shivered. Who was it for? Did he seek protection from me? Or, I shivered over the possibility
. Him?
 

Twelve

“Thorn?”
I asked again as he remained unmoving after the incantation was spoken. He was staring into nothing, his hands clenched by his sides.
 

“Nothing,” he dismissed me.

“It was clearly
not
nothing,” I disagreed. “You should have seen your face.”

He just blinked at me.

I rose from the sofa and placed a hand to his trembling chest, and he flinched at my touch. “Thorn, don’t play with me now; be serious, I
know
that incantation. My Grandmother spoke in this tongue; it’s a protection spell.”

“I knew it. You still practice your craft,” he laughed bitterly, eyes flashing angrily. He looked as if I had betrayed him.
 

I shook my head, peering up at him through my lashes. “No, I don’t. I vaguely remember things she said and did, but I’m not a practicing witch. I’ve forgotten a lot of that shit,” I admitted.

“Except for
that
,” he snapped.

“Well, I don’t remember it very well clearly because I don’t know
who
you just summoned the protection for.”

“Who else would the protection be for?” Thorn relaxed, looking amused now.
 

I shrugged.
 

“
Me
!” he sighed. “You… do things to me Elena. I…” A shaking hand rose to his head as he pulled
 
at his longish dark hair. “I need protection from you.”

“I am not a fucking demon, Thorn.”

“I know,” he breathed. “Chill. This is a good thing.”

I couldn’t understand in what universe or reality, it was a good thing that my death metal rock star, a man who was supposed to be the most powerful warlock in his line, needed protection from me.
 

“Sexist.” I bit my lip, disappointed. “Like all those stupid fucking songs that blame the lady for the man falling for them. I hate them.”

Thorn wiggled his brows. “Like ‘Devil in Disguise’ by Elvis.” He hummed a few bars of it, and I tried to ignore what the sound of his delicious voice did to my mind and heart.

“Exactly. Actually, I really fucking hate that song.”

“Gathered that,” he muttered, and sat down beside me on the day bed, his head fell into his hands, and he sighed. “Forget it.”

“Oooohhhh, Mr. Warlock, I am bespelled to forget that you spoke in the demonic tongue,” I smirked. “I am feeling like you are soooooooo not full of shit at all, right now.”

“We are all full of shit,” Thorn shot back defensively. “Like
you
, I remembered stuff from the past. I don’t practice this magic, and shudder at the thought if I did because I would most likely fuck it up.”
 

I nodded. Yes, he’d probably do exactly that. Fuck it up. But I still didn’t believe him. The language… how fluently he spoke it.

How fluently you grasped it,
my mind snarked back at me.
 

“I’m gonna undo the spell,” I said petulantly, mostly to see what reaction that would get, and as part of my drunken misguided schemes to test his true warlock authenticity.
 

Thorn shrugged. “Go for it, I haven’t a clue if it worked.”

He sounded nonchalant and unconcerned.

I found myself relaxing. Men like Thorn without warlock status were intimidating, men like Thorn with warlock status were, well… just fucking terrifying.
 

“Why are you worried if I was, purely hypothetically of course, a practicing warlock?” he mused, his dark green eyes flashing in amusement. “I would
never
use my powers to hurt you or anyone. Everyone knows, you hurt someone with the gift, you only end up hurting yourself, after all.”

I nodded.

“So?” he prompted. His hand slid to the back of my skull again, and his fingers rubbed there
hard.
I liked it. I felt my entire body respond at his touch. Damn it.

“Power,” I muttered. “It scares me when a cock is attached to it.”

His hand retracted from my hair at once. “Elena,” he whispered. “Have you been…
interfered
with?”

I felt my eyes widen. “No! Thank God. I just don’t trust men having too much power, and being a practicing warlock is too much power for me.”

“You want your men powerless?” His dark brows rose quizzically.

I shot him a
look.
“Clearly fucking
not
.”
 

“You
like
my power, then?” he mused.

“When it’s used for good, sure,” I shrugged. Oh no, please, the man’s stare was making my head spin. Oh wait, shit, that could very easily be the alcohol.
 

Thorn moved closer. “I would always use my power for good.” His eyes dropped to my breasts. “For the good of your body, of course.” His gaze snapped back to my face again. “Besides, I like
your
power. In fact, I think I’m addicted.”

“Then why did you just invoke a protection spell against me?” I asked. exasperated.
 

“I already explained, you do things to me,” he muttered, gaze sliding away from mine.

“Like what?” I challenged. “
Prove
it.”

“What would you have me do?” he asked, looking taken aback. A man like Thornton Darko was probably not used to being told what to do, at least by his admirers. But then again, my heart flared with excitement and hope. Perhaps, maybe, I was becoming more than that to him, as he was for me. Senseless. Amazing. I was in a permanent thrall with this man.

“Let me see you stripped.”

He nodded, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. “Of course.” He rose from the day bed and shrugged out of his black shirt, then peeled off his boots and black jeans. I bit my lip in disappointment when he left the briefs on. I found myself staring at the impressive outline of his cock pressing rather urgently against the material, I even spied the tip of it peeking out the top of the band of the pants. I had to sit on my errant hands to stop them rising to touch the thing. Then I had a better idea. I fetched my phone from my little bag I had left beside the day bed, and leapt up, wrapped an arm around him and held the phone out.
 

“What are you doing?” he demanded, sounding pissed.

“Can’t I get a picture of this moment?” I complained.

He shrugged and kissed me so hard that I nearly fell over, I snapped a few pictures of us while he was doing his worst with that hot tongue of his. Then after we parted, and unable to help myself, I fired off a text to Brett with several of the images of Thornton Darko sucking my face.
My muse is so fucking hot! I am ok with this.
Not my best effort, for sure. I was a little drunk. It would have to suffice. Fuck Brett. I hoped those images made his stupid cock cower.
 

I was smirking at that thought, but Thorn’s voice made it fall right off my lips. “Are you done?” he asked coldly.

I nodded. He pushed me, and I collapsed onto the day bed, tossed my phone aside, and stared up at him, biting my lip hard to stop from babbling a million apologies. I resisted with everything I had inside of me not to reach for him. He was punching a hole in my senses and restraint, just standing there before me like this. I yearned to
touch
him.
 

“Take it all off,” I invited him. Distraction had always been my default weapon. Fuck me, such an asshole. I can’t believe I revenge texted my soon to be ex-fiancé in the mesmerizing presence of Thornton Darko. I had clearly lost my damn mind.
 

His eyes glittered strangely. “Not yet.” He slid into the sunken spa, emerald eyes practically glowing in their arousal from the steam that wafted and curled around his massive chest, making his ink and skin all pretty and shiny. His hands flashed around my ankles, and I cried out as he lifted me high into the air and settled me about him, so my legs wound around his neck, and my pussy was right there… at the mercy of his mouth. His hand pressing hard between my shoulderblades, he drifted backwards into the corner of the spa, set me gently down on the edge of it. He began to kiss my thighs hard. I felt my eyes roll back in my head at the sensation of his mouth caressing and sucking my skin so insistently. I would have love bites after he was done. I groaned, gripping the tops of his muscular shoulders, and trembled violently when one long index finger hooked inside my panties and deftly slid them down.
 

I was almost wincing at the thought of him applying the same violence of his lips at my entrance, but he began an infuriating teasing soft caress upon my trembling lips, and occasionally his pointed tongue, with the round ball of his tongue ring, would flick between them and rub against my clitoris, then it was back to the soft suckling and caresses. There was no rhyme or reason to when
that
tongue would come, but I became rather desperate for its touch.
 

I found myself rocking gently against his mouth as he covered my pussy with kisses, and then I felt foolish and felt my ass shudder, and my whole body jolt in surprise when his tongue and its silver round stud rubbed up and down, only ever three times, and then it was back to the mind bending caress of his mouth. My pussy was left in a blissful twitching and convulsing in the absence of the tongue and that tongue ring.
 

“Thorn, please keep doing that,” I begged him.
 

“Doing what?” he mumbled against my pussy, and the vibration of his voice through me felt perfectly wonderful.
 

“You know what!” I sighed in frustration.

“You mean this?” His tongue flicked out again and he worked one side of the nub of my clitoris; the heat and the friction from the smoothed round metal from the ring was going to kill me, and then slid over to the other side, giving one, two, three hard strokes that made everything inside of me clench hard, before he rose his gorgeous head from between my quaking thighs and smirked up at me.

“Yes,” I barely whispered. I was so hopelessly aroused.
 

“You want
more
?”
 

I nodded. His tongue had stolen my voice.

“Then you’re going to have to catch me!” he laughed, and I whimpered in dismay when he slid my panties back in place and lowered me to the spa floor. Then he lifted his powerful body out and entered the expanse of the red lantern-lit water I had seen in the cave. His hand hit a panel on the dripping cave wall, and the bottom of the floor was lit up in a brilliant, dazzling winding path of red LED lights. It was like the yellow brick road on crack. ‘Long Hard Road out of Hell’ by Marilyn Manson crept into my mind, and I shivered.
 

“Where are you going?” I complained, congratulating myself for not sounding as if I was puffing, because the man had literally deprived me of air. I wanted that tongue back doing its thing between my legs right
now.

He motioned for me to follow him, and I stared hard at the carpet of red lights to see an opening in the cave –I hadn’t seen it in the murk before. But there it was, so clear and utterly stunning to me now, the silk midnight blue sky dotted with stars, the distant sound of the ocean pounding the beach, and sand rendered pale blue in the glow of the night beyond.