Ultimate Sins (2 page)

One hand tangled in the silken strands of hair that fell down her back as the straining bulge of his erection was cushioned by the hot, feminine heat between her thighs.

“Hell no!” he snapped, glowering down at her; the need to take her, hard and deep, strained his patience. “You've taken enough risks in the past weeks. I'll be damned if you'll risk yourself that openly.”

“But he's lying, Crowe!” she hissed back at him, her palms flattening against his stomach. “And you know he won't stop. This has been going on for years, and it was only by chance that I found it.”

Her hands pressed against his stomach, but not to push him away. No true pressure was applied. Her fingers curled against his shirt, clenching the fabric, and Crowe swore he could feel her need to touch his bare flesh.

“We'll stop him,” he promised her. “But you will not risk yourself any further. You will not draw Wayne's wrath down on you any more than you already have. Because I swear, Amelia, I'll kill him if I ever hear he's even dared to bruise you again. Do you hear me?”

Again.

Crowe still fought the need to kill the bastard for the bruises he'd already seen on her perfect porcelain-and-silk flesh.

Her lips parted and he could see her intent in the way her hands clasped in front of her, slowly twisting together as she leaned back from him.

Her expression, her voice, every part of her presented perfect truth and honesty. All but that one movement. A movement she only used when she lied.

“Lie to me, Amelia, and I'll take you straight home this instant,” he warned her, his tone dark, forbidding. “And give me any of those half-assed excuses you've given everyone else and I won't be responsible for what I do to him.”

She breathed out heavily. “He didn't hurt me, Crowe.”

He knew better.

“And if he tries again, Amelia, then I'll hurt him a thousand times worse.”

The throb of his cock and the slight flexing of her hips were beginning to affect more than his patience now. He'd been more than a week without her. Damn, that was too long not to have tasted her lips, her soft, soft flesh, the sweet heat of her need.

She made him hungry. Hungrier than he'd ever been for another woman.

Small, warm hands unclasped, then slipped beneath his shirt to find his bare flesh as Crowe watched her expression turn soft and dreamy, her gaze darkening with a feminine hunger that never failed to amaze him.

“Then we won't argue,” she promised as she wrapped her free arm around his neck to pull him to her. “It's been too long since you touched me.” Her soft, pink little tongue swiped over her lush lower lip. “Touch me now, Crowe. Please.”

Touch her now?

He'd been dying to touch her again since five minutes after he'd last had her. He couldn't get this hunger out of his system; nor could he find a way to keep from holding on to the hope that somehow, some way he could keep her.

His lips covered hers. There wasn't a chance of denying himself the pure sweet pleasure of those tempting lips. Pouty, sensuous, the lush curves parted beneath his as her arms wrapped around his neck.

He'd taken her here in this room four weeks before. He'd laid her back on the leather couch across the room, knowing she was innocent, but completely unaware she was still a virgin. His first virgin, and the first woman to sink inside him in a way he couldn't explain, nor could he escape.

He'd not touched another woman since. He'd not wanted to touch another woman.

She parted her lips further, her adventurous little tongue tasting his, surprising him with her boldness. Pleasure shot through his system, drawing a groan from him as her hungry response grew hotter.

He'd told himself, more than once, that he wouldn't do this again. He wasn't going to endanger her further. He couldn't do it, because losing Amelia would destroy him. And it would kill more than his soul. His cousins would be burying him beside her if he were the cause of her death—

God help him, the guilt would follow him even past death.

“Amelia. Wait, sweetheart.” He drew back, that thought flaying his conscience as well as his soul. “Baby, we have to stop this.”

“Why?” Amusement colored the husky, sex-and-more sound of her voice. “I've been dying for you, Crowe. A week was far too long to not see you or talk to you. Too long not to be able to touch you.”

Hell, his shirt hung open. His chest was bare to her eager touch, and she had moved to his belt and pulled open the first snap of his jeans.

Moving to catch her slender wrists as her fingers tugged at the next snap, he was immediately stalled by her hot little tongue curling over the flat, hard disk of his nipple.

In his entire sexual lifetime Crowe had never had a woman cover one of his nipples with her lips. To have Amelia do so, to have that pleasure explode across his nerve endings, was shocking. So shocking that he stilled, his teeth clenching as his fingers fisted in reaction.

The time it took him to adjust to the caress, she spent amplifying it. Her teeth raking over the disk, clenching on it as he fought back a growl of pleasure. That pause gave her the time and the opportunity to release the remaining metal buttons on his jeans and release the flesh throbbing for her touch. Her fingers curled around his steel-hard erection, and all his good intentions shot straight to hell.

There was no turning back. There was no denying her.

Seven days.

Seven days too long.

Unfisting his fingers, Crowe lifted his hands, spearing them into her hair and tangling in the silken strands as Amelia turned her attention to the sensitive flesh of his other, unattended nipple.

He'd never known the pleasure she was giving and he was shocked enough that an instinctive response against it just wasn't happening.

From there, like dominoes tumbling down an emotional line, any response to combat the pleasure or to protect her against what might be was instantly sabotaged.

Instead every sense, every emotion and physical response became instinctive, driving home the innermost knowledge that walking away from her would destroy part of his soul.

As he gripped her hair, the dominant sexual creature lurking just beneath his surface surged forward.

His cock was hard, throbbing, her soft, silken fingers teasing him with her touch. Teasing him with the knowledge that every kiss, every lick, every second she was in his arms she was learning what he liked first.

His fairy-girl, he called her.

His fantasy.

Guiding her head, her caresses, and her kisses, Crowe slowly urged her lower. Fiery little licks of her tongue tasted his flesh as she moved down the line of his body.

Imperative little groans and hungry, breathless little mewls had his testicles hardening, clenching in need.

“Crowe.” The soft sound of his name was a plea on her lips as she reached the base of his hardened shaft.

Gripping his erection with one hand, she stared up at him, vulnerability marking her expression as Crowe eased her into position before pressing the engorged head against her lips.

“Just pretend it's your favorite treat,” he teased her, fighting back the primitive urge to push past the swollen curves. “Just take me, baby, however you want to.”

Her lips parted.

“Ah yes, sweetheart.” he groaned, watching in shock, heat surging through him, as the fully erect crest slipped inside.

“Ah baby, hell yes.” Breathing was becoming harder by the second. “That's it, Amelia. Just suck it inside your hot little mouth.”

Ah, God.

Staring down at her, the feel of her lips, the moist heat of her mouth, her nimble, graceful fingers at his balls tore aside any last thoughts of not having her.

Of course he was going to have her.

By God, she belonged to him.

*   *   *

She could barely breathe.

Amelia sucked the engorged crest of Crowe's erection as deeply as possible, suckling it, licking it, loving it. The salt-and-heat taste of him was addictive. The throb and flex of the iron-hard flesh was an aphrodisiac she didn't want to fight.

With each draw of her mouth his hips flexed, pushing him deeper, urging her to take more, coaxing her hunger higher with each taste of him until she was certain the hard, ever-deepening clench of his shaft signaled the release she craved.

“Hell no,” he suddenly groaned.

The first dark, salt-and-man taste that infused her senses had him suddenly pulling back, his fingers tightening at the base of his erection as her eyes flared open.

“Wait, Crowe.” Her protest was instinctive.

It was time for his treat now.

“Come here, Amelia.” Drawing her quickly to her feet, his hands clenched her hips, lifting her until she was reclining back on the desk, watching him impatiently.

Anticipation was exploding through her. It raced through her bloodstream, awakened nerve endings she hadn't known were so sensitive, before striking at her clit in electric pulses of deepening sensation.

As he laid her back on the desk, one hand cupped the back of her head, the other sliding up her thigh as his head lowered, his lips covering hers in a kiss that burned through her senses. He'd never kissed her with so much hunger, so much need.

His lips slanted over hers, his tongue licking against hers as his fingers found the curve of her breast, then one tight, hard tip.

The stroke of his thumb over her nipple sent crashing waves of pleasure flooding her, drawing her body tight as a gasp tore past their kiss.

Crowe's head lifted, his gaze locking with hers as he watched her reaction this time.

Catching her nipple with his thumb and forefinger, tightening his grip just enough, he began milking slowly, rolling the pebble-hard tip as her lashes fluttered and a cry of pleasure escaped her lips.

She didn't see his head lowering. She felt his lips surround her other nipple. Moist, hot, his tongue curling over the tight tip as he sucked the sensitive point into his mouth.

Drawing on her hungrily a groan rumbled in his chest, his fingers leaving her opposite nipple to stroke down her side, her hips, before moving across her lower stomach and sliding between her thighs.

Her sex was freshly waxed just the day before, the trip to the spa slipped in during an errand Wayne had sent her on. The only curls left were those that grew on the upper curve of her mound, above her clit.

Crowe's fingers feathered through those curls, once, twice, before sliding lower, his hand curving, cupping the heated, aching flesh as his upper palm pressed firmly against her clit, rubbing against it far too lightly.

There wasn't enough friction.

Hips arching, desperation pounding through her veins and centering at her clit, Amelia gasped with the pleasure rushing through her.

“Crowe, please.” Panting, fighting for breath as his lips moved from her nipple, she arched closer. Amelia could feel the driving desperate pleasure building through her senses.

Nothing mattered but his touch, now, always. No matter the time, day or night, the memory of it, the need for it, was always there.

Moving lower, his lips spread a wave of fiery pleasure across her flesh as her hands buried in his hair, clenching, tightening with the building tension ratcheting through her body.

His kisses feathered over her lower stomach, her hipbones, then drew a surprised cry from her as they brushed over the swollen, straining bundle of nerves driving her insane.

“Crowe, yes,” she gasped, her thighs parting farther as she felt him settle between them, his hands pressing beneath her knees, urging them to bend, to give him greater access to the sensitive, slick folds between her thighs.

“Sweet Amelia,” he whispered as his fingers parted the swollen flesh. “Now I get to enjoy my favorite treat.”

Dipping his head, he slid his tongue through the narrow slit, pressed against the clenched entrance of her vagina, then licked slowly upward until he found the hard swollen bud throbbing for his touch.

Pleasure was a rush of electric flames burning in the wake of his tongue. Each lick, each stroke, each muttered growl of pleasure had her arching, moaning, begging for release as each sensation built, burning brighter, hotter, with each hungry stroke of his tongue.

“Oh God, Crowe, please,” she begged, her hands buried in his hair, hips arching to be closer, to drive his tongue harder against her clit, the entrance of her vagina. Anywhere that would trigger the release.

Licking, stroking, his tongue circled the little bud as he pressed two fingers against the hungry entrance. They pressed inside, slowly stretching the inner tissue. Twisting his fingers inside her, working deeper as his tongue licked and stroked the pounding bud of her clit, he pushed her higher.

In the six weeks they'd been lovers, he'd done things to her that had her blushing to think about even as her need for him had encouraged him to teach her how to pleasure him as well.

Now arching and writhing at the strokes of his fingers inside her, Amelia could feel her senses threatening to come apart with the force of the steadily rising need for release. It pounded through her body, shot through it in wave upon wave of spasming pleasure.

And she was so close. So certain it was just a breath away, no matter how many times he pulled back just before she could crash into the rapturous abyss awaiting her.

His fingers slid deeper inside her, rubbing the nerve-rich flesh and flexing muscles that clenched around each penetration. His lips tightened on her clit, his tongue flickering over the little point, driving her so high, so close she tried to scream, to beg as his fingers curved inside her, reaching to a point in the uppermost depths of her vagina that sent a pulse of pure white-hot energy tearing through her.

Exploding through her.

It was cataclysmic.

Arching tightly against him, a strangled cry tore from her lips as he suddenly moved to his knees, his fingers stroking again, again. Rapid-fire pulses of release tore through her another time, causing her to jerk against each surge of sensation as his fingers slid free of her.