Whisper (The Voice trilogy Book 1) (19 page)

He buries his nose between my thighs, running his face along my heat slicked flesh, breathing me in deeply, a salacious grin tugging at his full lips. It is so dirty, so damn hot. I am already damp and hyper aware of myself. He looks into my eyes, rocking back onto his heels. 
             

“This is all up to you, Beautiful.” I waver under his scrutiny, swaying before I regain my balance. Sure that I want this, but tongue tied and twisted, I cannot find the words. My flesh is on fire, my heart leaping in my chest and my pussy is wet and waiting. “I kneel before you a starving man, Sophie. Feed me. Please.”

I swallow the last vestige of doubt, knowing that I want his mouth on me. I need it more than air. Without hesitation, I surrender to the deep growling need within me. I close my eyes, let my head fall back and press my hips in his hands. In an instant his hands are heavy around my waist, a deep growl erupts from his chest and he tosses me backwards onto the large bed; every inch of animal hovers over me, hungry and excited. I drip with anticipation, his lustful aggression fueling the wanton trollop inside of me. He makes me feel alive, on fire. I am sexy, confident under his tutelage, able and so eager to learn. 

He wraps his hands around my ankles and slowly pulls me towards the foot of the bed. I sit up to see him kneeling at my feet, his eyes full of carnal lust, his lips wet and swollen.  It is all very familiar. His eyes are tentative, waiting for permission. I reach down and push the linen shirt and vest off his broad shoulders, running my fingernails up the back of his neck through his coarse hair. He closes his eyes and releases a deep moan, leaning his head into my waiting hands. Urgency clouds my vision as our eyes meet and lock in an erotic knot. My breasts fall free and into his waiting hands. He
kneads and squeezes the heavy flesh, his finger and thumb twisting and pulling at my little pink nipples, making them pointed and hard. He leans in and takes one breast into his mouth, rolling my hard nub around with his long tongue. He nips at me with his teeth and looks to me.   

“
Aahh.” He pulls my nipple between his teeth, and then begins to knead and pull at my flesh with his other hand. 

“Spread your legs, Beautiful,” he whispers. Slowly he pushes me back onto the bed and sinks back to his knees, his hot breath tickling the inside of my already warm thigh. His hands sit firmly on the inside of each knee, slowly pushing my legs wider. I am open and splayed before him, exposed and unsure. Yet he looks as if he is gazing upon a masterpiece. The reverence in his eyes surely should be reserved for some Renaissance painting or beautiful sculpture. Yet he looks at me with those appreciative eyes, alight with anticipation and worship. He pulls me to the very edge of the bed and dips his head between my splayed limbs, taking a deep breath of my scent. 

“Mm mm,” he hums, blowing a cool breath across my swollen folds; I writhe and shift my hips. “Don’t move,” he demands in a husky whisper. He stills me with his strong hands, wrapping one arm around my leg, resting my thigh on his shoulder, he strums my clit with his thumb and watches my face. His gaze is so intense, watching him take so much pleasure in touching me is surreal and I have to turn away. I close my eyes and let every movement wash over me. “That’s it, Beautiful, just lie back and enjoy.”

He continues to strum my clit as he dips a finger into my waiting sex. “Oh, you are so wet already, Sophie.” My name drips off his tongue like honey. He slips two fingers in and begins to pump in and out, building rhythm while he presses on my clit with his thumb. The knots in my body tighten in response to the building release, my hips sway of their own accord. I press against his hand, begging for more, raising my hips off the bed, lifting myself into his palm, wantonly waving my pussy in his
face. I feel an orgasm building as he puts more pressure on that bundle of frantic nerves, slowly pushing his middle finger between my folds and massaging me, warming me up, making slow methodical circles.

His hands continue their ministrations and my head is swirling in a torrent of heat and pleasure. An explosion is building more intense than anything I have ever felt, my body is no longer my own, moving on its own accord, responding to every move he makes. His finger hooks and rubs a spot I have never felt, sending a shock wave through me. He lowers his head and gently begins to kiss and tease me with his mouth, licking and nibbling my most sensitive spot. Around and around his tongue swirls as his fingers push me higher. He blows onto my hot, wet flesh and then plunges his tongue inside of me, pushing and sucking the nectar he has coaxed. Into a million pieces my world shatters, my body humming and pulsing, waves rippling through me. Blood pounds in my ears as my body convulses in his hands. Slowly he lets me down; pulling his fingers from my sex he looks at me with dark eyes, licks his lips and sucks my juice from his fingertips. I am shocked and gasp in response, as a wicked, crooked grin spreads across Rhys’ triumphant face.  

He climbs my body like a lithe predator admiring his subdued prey. He hovers above me as I slowly come down, shudders rolling through me still, rocking my limbs and stealing my breath. I look up into his eyes just as he thrusts into me and gasps in pleasure as his eyes roll back. He doesn’t hold back, pushing himself to the hilt, burying himself within my still quivering sex. I stretch and mold around him, feeling the delicious burn of his large cock ripping me open.               

“Oh. My. God, Rhys,” I moan as he sets a steady pace, rocking back and forth, in and out. He pulls back till just the tip of his throbbing rod sits at the base of my lips. He rocks his hips; shallow thrusts make me needy as his tip dips in and out of my swollen folds. A storm builds
deep in my body, spreading like flood waters, threatening to drown me in pleasure.

“Oh please!” I gasp. Wanting more, needing the full length of him buried deep in my core. “Please Rhys.” He teases me, watching me writhe as he slowly moves back and forth. “Harder!” I beg.
             

“Yes!” he roars before slamming into me, filling me to the hilt, our hips crashing with explosive force. “That’s it Beautiful, talk to me.” His frantic pace ignites a series of explosions that ring deep in my blood and steal my senses.  “Pull your knees up!” he roars. I grasp the back of my knees and pull them to my ears just as he rears up and slams into me with such force that our bodies converge in a crushed and tangled knot, writhing and grinding against one another. My body is alive with the echo of his assault humming in my veins. He slowly pulls back, leaving me wanting, aching for another. I whimper and that wickedly sexy, crooked grin pulls at his mouth, his eyes tease, and a devious sparkle betrays his intention. He slams into me again, and again, filling me, crushing him to me, every time, driving harder and deeper, taking more and more for himself. His eyes watch me, intent on witnessing my inevitable undoing, the undoing he is driving me towards, with every hot thrust. His hands pressed firmly against the back of my thighs, pinning me down, making me crazy, and greedy. I want more. I want him to climb inside of me, to fill me. I cannot take another minute, but I cannot stand the thought of him stopping. 

He watches me come undone under the relentless onslaught from his powerful jack hammer hips. I don’t think I am even in my body. Sophie left the room while some nymph is getting her brains fucked out by the god of sex himself. I watch myself scream for mercy and beg for more, completely out of control. Thrashing about as much as his strong hands will allow, unsure I can absorb anymore. I cannot keep still, my body is no longer my own, skipping on a note. I am barely aware as he empties himself in one deep and final thrust, his neck craned to the ceiling, eyes screwed tightly shut, growling through gritted teeth.
              “Sophie!” He stills and drops to his forearms, resting his weight on my humming body. I look up into his eyes while my body slowly returns to earth.  My legs are clamped on his shoulders, my hands tangled in a fistful of sheet and my own hair. The weight of his body, his heart pounding through his flesh pull me back to earth, back into his arms. I clench around him, unwilling and unable to release my stranglehold on him. He lies on top of me spent, sweaty, and panting. He winces as a gentle spasms roll through me, he releases my legs, and they fall to his sides, leaden and worn. Rolling onto his side he pulls me into his chest, pulling the sheet over us both. I lay, speechless against the soft, sticky hair on his chest and listen to his heart. The rhythm is familiar and comfortable. Like a lullaby. Caressing my heated skin, his fingers run up and down the back of my arm. My skin is littered with goose bumps, and streaks of heat that radiate from the trails he draws. I feel unable to speak, or move. I just lay in his arms, our breathing and mingled heart beats the only sound in the room. 

His large room is bathed in a soft pink light from the sinking sun. The bed is in disarray, rumpled sheets and blankets scattered like remnants from a storm. Pillows tossed all over the dark mahogany floor, and I am spent.  I hardly had a moment to look around before we fell back into bed, and got lost. I hardly have the strength to lift my head from the mattress to peruse my surroundings. The large bed sits squarely in the middle of a room that is larger than my entire apartment. A sitting area of chairs too nice to sit in circles the large bay window that lends the fading light. I roll my head around, more than a little delirious to see Rhys and his sparkling green eyes. Propped up on his elbow, he eyes me shrewdly, watching me slowly regain consciousness. A bolt of lightning strikes through me as he reaches out and grazes my shoulder with
his strong fingers, I flinch, blinking up at him for a moment, floating in a soundless chasm, my body totally shut down. And he just smiles. 

“Earth to Sophie.”
I close my eyes tightly, willing the world to return, for my mind to return to planet earth. When I open them I get my wish. The faint sounds of Rhys breathing and my own pounding heart, tickle my ears and I have returned to the land of the living, or rather to the land of the obscenely wealthy and bored. I roll to my side, pulling a sheet with me and wrap myself in it as I stare into the eyes of a man who just so thoroughly undid me, I can hardly form a coherent thought. All I can do is smile. 

“You ok? I lost you there for a minute.” He grins, knowing full well the answer. I just shake my head and take a deep, cleansing breath. I don’t want to come back down. “I’m going to get us a drink. You just lay there and look beautifully spent,” he teases, hopping out of bed like a lithe cat. 

He pulls on a pair of pants from the floor, leaving me alone to recover. When he returns, he has a glass of water in one hand and scotch in the other. He sets the rocks glass down on the bedside table and hands me the water. 

“Drink up.” I gulp it down like a parched desert prisoner. He laughs at my zeal for refreshment, dropping his pants to the ground and climbs back into bed. Taking the empty water glass from my hand, he exchanges it for the rocks glass and sits up against the ornately scrolled headboard. “Who taught you to come like that?” I choke and splutter at his question. Is that something that can be taught? If it is, surely it is his doing. I just shake my head. “What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?” he teases, taking a slow sip of scotch before offering me the glass. I sit up and take a sip, hoping my voice will return.

My voice is small and distant. “That was intense. I thought I was going to black out.” I grin slightly from embarrassment. “I have never felt anything like it.”

“That was your G-spot.” He opens his arm and invites me to rest against his shoulder. “What a glorious reaction. You are so responsive,” he muses, his fingers caressing my shoulder. “It won’t be the last time I hit that button,” he says in into my hair, before taking the scotch from my hand. “What would you like to do this evening?” he asks.

“Stay here, just like this,” I say, looking up into his seductive eyes. He smiles down on me and winks.

“Me, too.”
We lie in bed, sharing the scotch in relative silence. Comfortable, sated silence.

“Ask me something personal, Sophie.” I am floored and more than a little intrigued. Suddenly he wants to open up. Is it the setting, what we just did? I don’t care. There is so much I want to know. But, before I can contemplate and choose wisely my mouth takes over.

“What am I still doing here?”

“After one night with a woman it is evident what she expects, what she is hoping for. I know all I need to know. It is easier to keep the lines clear and concise after one night. If I were to see them again the lines would blur and I don’t want that. I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.” Even as he says it, as if he is talking about someone else. I know he is talking to me. “But you, Sophie, I have no idea what you expect from me, I don’t yet have all the information.”

“Nor will you ever,” I tease.

“Ah, therein
lies the rub. I have to figure you out, Sophie. I trust you. I have known you for a blink of an eye and I trust you more than some women I have known my entire life. You fascinate me.”

“Fascinate? That is a heavy word. There is nothing fascinating about me. I am just a simple girl, no worldly knowledge to speak of, and no high powered job to brag about.
Just Sophie.”

“If that is truly how you see yourself then you need to take another hard look. Because that is not what I see.” Immediately I want to deflect, redirect the conversation. I don’t like it when people try and hold a mirror up. Insisting that you see what they see. I know what I am.
             

“Have you ever been with someone more than once?”