Seduction Page 20

  “I don’t like you wearing something this skimpy when I’m not out with you.” A warning I’m sure he doesn’t want to repeat.

  I want to face him, but he won’t let me. His big hands glide down my stomach, circle my navel a few times, then unsnap the front of my pants. He wastes no time. Both hands plunge deep, feeling their way between my thighs.

  “Good God, Marisela,” he groans. “You’re not wearing any panties.”

  I reach up, grabbing his hair.

  Once his fingers are submerged, I can’t stay quiet. I cry out his name, riding his hand, seeking my release. I’m so desperate after being separated from him for a week. He grinds against me, showing me how aroused he is. Showing me what I’ve missed. “Please, Craig.”

  He spins me around. His eyes burn straight through me as he removes my top, flinging it aside. “Seeing you with another guy,” he says as his thumbs circle my nipples, “makes me feel like a killer. I wanted to crush that guy’s skull.” He pinches my nipples so hard I yelp. “Never,” he growls, spanking my left ass cheek. “Ever.” He smacks the right one. “Kiss another man again.” I find myself bent over the edge of the bed, my ass sticking up in the air and my leathers bunched at my knees.

  “This is going to hurt me as much as it hurts you,” he warns.

  I don’t move because I know what’s coming. Crack. His leather belt. The pleasurable sting from the next lash goes straight to my core. Again. “Tell me you’ll never let another man touch you.”

  “I won’t.”

  Smack. “Say it.”

  “You’re the only one for me.”

  “Promise your lips will only ever taste mine.”

  “Forever.”

  Crack. “Swear no man will ever get to feel what it’s like to be inside you—that none could possibly satisfy you or love you the way I do.”

  “Not even Sterling?” I can’t believe I just said that. Holy shit.

  The rumble of his deep-throated growl is powerful enough to shake the walls as I’m roughly flipped over. He stretches over me, turning his mouth to my ear. “That’s going to cost you.”

  Heat pours out of him as he slides me up the mattress. “Hands over your head.”

  His eyes are purely electric and quite threatening. My words rattled him—I can tell by his clenched jaw and the way he’s staring at me. Sometimes I have a big mouth. I obediently lift my arms above my head and he makes quick use of his belt. I’m neatly strapped to the headboard in seconds, helpless and incredibly receptive to his domination. Like a healing rain, my sarcasm makes his darkest desires bloom. He rolls off the bed, then positions himself near me. He sheds his form-fitting T-shirt first, then unbuttons his jeans, releasing his fully erect shaft.

  My gaze is locked on it. He’s ridiculously enormous. And he knows it. That’s why women stalk him. That’s why he’s such an arrogant ass. I try to twist out of my bonds, but he’s made it impossible for me to escape. Then he grips himself, languidly sliding his hand up and down his full length. My breasts ache for his touch. My core is on fire. I scoot closer, stretching my neck, but I can’t reach him.

  “Touch me,” I beg.

  Ignoring my request, he closes his eyes, moaning with satisfaction as he continues to pleasure himself.

  “Craig!” I’m riveted. I’ve never seen a man masturbate. But he’s acting cruel and selfish, punishing me. I feel completely deprived. “Stop.”

  His eyes open. “Why? This is what I’ve suffered through twice a day for the past week, Marisela.” His rhythm increases. “I’ve become quite the expert.”

  “Craig,” I cry more urgently.

  A minute later, he lets out a growl, lurches sideways, and explodes. His hot seed shoots between my breasts. I squirm—unsated. Sticky.

  “Still fantasizing about Sterling?” The intensity of his stare gives me chills.

  I’m livid, my pulse is erratic. “Let me go.” I really don’t want him to.

  He kneels on the edge of the bed, leans forward, then blows tantalizingly on my already sensitive breasts.

  “Now.” I kick my feet.

  Although the roguish grin on his face is irritating as hell, his fingers circling my nipples work wonders on my attitude, sending ripples of pleasure through me. I moan. He straddles my chest, his shaft mere inches from my mouth. “Show me how much you want me.”

  I lift my head off the pillow, nearly swallowing him. He throws his head back, grabbing handfuls of my hair.

  “Faster, baby.”

  I oblige him, sucking harder. After several minutes, he grits his teeth and slowly pulls out. “If I were a selfish bastard…” We both know he’s not. “There’s nothing better than being inside you, Marisela.” He exhales heavily, his heated gaze sweeping my naked body. Then he snags his shirt off the floor and blots his semen off me. Without explanation, he switches approaches, cupping my face, kissing me tenderly. I can barely breathe.

  Now that I’m thoroughly confused, he reaches up and frees me.

  “Your release is conditional,” he says.

  “Oh, really?” I ponder his meaning. “I thought this was retribution sex.”

  “Started out that way,” he admits, gathering me in his arms. My head falls against his chest. “There’s too much going on inside my head to just leave things unsaid.”

  I gaze up at him.

  “I owe you an apology for judging you prematurely.”

  I smooth my fingers over his plump bottom lip. “Can’t we leave it in the past?”

  “Not this time, baby.” He urges me to sit.

  I do, right on his lap, locking my ankles behind his back. This is the most vulnerable position any couple can share. We’re face-to-face, our bodies perfectly aligned. “What do you want to know?”

  “Don’t make me ask.”

  “Craig.” Part of me is devastated that he actually thinks I’d get an abortion. But I understand his concern. “There’s something important I need to say.” I pray he listens. “Respect the choices I make. Even if they’re wrong. Don’t be so quick to judge anyone.” I hold on to his shoulders, searching his face for any indication of agreement.

  “The only woman I reserve the right to judge is the one I share my life with.”

  Touché. I can’t deny him that consideration.

  “Meet me halfway, Marisela—don’t lie to me about where you’re going, who you’re seeing. I can’t handle that.”

  He’s right about that. Secrets serve no purpose. “Estevan is a liar. I lost the baby after he had a head-on collision with a light pole, with me in the passenger seat. I underwent a D&C, a common procedure after a miscarriage.”

  “I know what it is,” he murmurs, looking away from me. “Guess who feels stupid now?”

  I cup his cheeks sympathetically. “We’re learning how to trust, growing along the way.” Imagine me saying that to him—to anyone, really.

  His gaze darts around the room, then back. “I need you.”

  I smooth his hair, mesmerized by his thick girly lashes and those caramel-colored eyes. “Me, too.”

  On a growl, he palms my ass cheeks. I feel his shaft swell between my legs. I arch my back, letting him move me wherever I need to be so he can penetrate me. He peppers my neck with kisses, his tongue blazing a hot, wet trail down my throat. “I love your shoulders,” he says, tickling them. “And your nipples.” He kisses each peak reverently. “I love your stomach.” His knuckles skate across my abs. “And I fucking love being inside you.”

  He slams into me then, lifting me, guiding my hips, our centers spiraling in unison.

  “Fuck, Marisela.” He gently positions me on my back.

  I spread my legs wide and he pumps deeper. I feel the early pulse of orgasm and buck against him. He slides his hand between our bodies, caressing my clit. It’s too much—I’m on the verge of losing control of everything, including my heart.

  “Craig…please.” I try to push his hand away. But the more he manipulates my body, the closer I get to burstin
g. Until…“I love you.”

  He freezes. Then pulls back just enough so he can see my eyes. “You love me?”

  I loop my arms around his neck, urging him closer. “So much it hurts.”

  He growls. “Look at me, Marisela.” I do. His fervent eyes search mine as he methodically thrusts in and out of me. “You’re mine now—forever.”

  Although the idea of forever is pretty damn scary, he’s right. I never had a chance after we met up that first night at the Devil’s Den. I harbored that girl-crush I had on him for a year and a half. Even during my time with Estevan, my mind often wandered back to the night when Craig showed up unannounced at my sister’s apartment. I wanted him to look at me someday the way he stared at her. And the next morning when I begged Robyn to let Craig take me to H.E.B., well, I’m the one who flirted.

  I recall Craig’s exact words. You’re hot, baby, he said, smiling at me. But don’t try to outrun your childhood. When the time’s right, you’ll know. And when it’s the right guy—the whole world will come crashing down on you. His honorable and gentle rejection.

  I think my world just collapsed.

  “Mine, baby.” His whisper pulls me back to reality. The bed frame groans as he drives into me.

  I raise my chin and meet his eyes, suddenly forgetting what I was going to say, all my awareness sucked away by our mingled cries of pleasure.

  Chapter 25

  “Four days,” I explain to Marisela as I button my pants. “I’ll be back on Thursday.”

  “But…” She looks so sad.

  I know what she’s thinking. Our reconciliation is tenuous right now. The last thing I want to do is leave her alone. Especially after she gave me the most precious gift I could ever receive—her love. But I have personal and professional business to take care of. Things I can’t tell her about yet. “Try to understand, baby.” I walk to the edge of the bed. “If that bottom lip droops any lower, it’s going to hit the floor.”

  That makes her giggle.

  “Ready to go home?”

  She’s freshly showered, her long, curly hair still damp. She looks too good. And those leather pants. I adjust myself. How long will she have this effect on me? I can’t possibly take her anywhere in public if every time she wears something sexy I get an erection. Locking her in my bedroom is a possible alternative. I grin.

  “What?” she asks, hopping up.

  “Nothing, darlin’. Just good old Texas-boy humor.”

  “Care to share?”

  “Did you hear anything about girl humor?”

  “No.”

  “Well?” I smack her ass as she scoots ahead of me, walking to the door.

  Fifteen minutes later, we’re checked out of the hotel and headed back to Corpus. I called Michael earlier and he assured me he’d safely deliver her bike to Third Coast Motorsports for repairs. As for Estevan—my heart thunders whenever I think about him—that’s one of the reasons I’m headed to Austin with my cousin. His violence is escalating. And I believe his next target is Marisela. I can’t let that happen. I gaze over at her; she’s staring out the side window.

  “What happens now?” she asks.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Our relationship,” she says, her attention still focused on the passing landscape. “Are we officially back together?”

  If she were looking at me she wouldn’t have missed the frustrated look I just gave. “You need to ask?”

  “Sex doesn’t make things better.”

  “No?” I ask. “Sounds like something your sister would say.”

  Now she stares at me. “She did.”

  “Did you agree with her just to agree, or do you actually believe that?”

  “Guess it depends on the situation.”

  “Do you feel better?”

  I’m rewarded with a radiant smile. Then she holds up four fingers. “You tell me.”

  “Four orgasms in three hours,” I say. “Think I’m slacking?”

  “God…” She slaps my arm. “You’re so arrogant sometimes.”

  “Guilty,” I admit. “But I know what I’m doing.”

  “You should,” she chides. “Practice makes perfect. Lord knows you’ve had enough.”

  A point of contention I hope we can get over soon. The past should remain where it is—part of history. It’s the perfect future I’m after now. With her.

  “Craig,” she cries, holding her hand over her mouth. “Pull over, now.”

  She’s flushed. I come to a screeching halt on the shoulder and she jumps out of the car. I follow, racing around the front of my vehicle to catch her throwing up. I slip behind her and gather her hair up, pulling it out of her face. “Are you sick, baby?”

  She coughs, then cups her face with both hands. “Happened last night too, right before my set.”

  “What did you eat yesterday?” I ask, deeply concerned.

  She turns, obviously thinking about it. “Carrot sticks and orange juice.”

  I roll my eyes. “That’s crazy, Marisela. You’re not a goddamned rabbit.”

  I press the back of my hand to her forehead. She’s warm, but I don’t think she has a fever. “Let me take you to the doctor.”

  “No.” She feigns a smile.

  “All right, let’s get you home.” I help her back inside.

  We arrive at Macey’s thirty minutes later.

  As usual, there’s a crowd in the pool room. Macey is hosting another party, the ones I’ve grown to dislike since my girlfriend moved in.

  “Hey, baby girl,” Macey says, giving Marisela a big hug. “Craig.”

  I roll my eyes. “Macey. What are we celebrating today?”

  “We’re a little early,” she says, “but Tuesday is Use Your Common Sense Day.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t panic.” She pats my arm. “I’d never expect you to keep that holiday.”

  Marisela laughs.

  Ten minutes alone with Macey and I’ll spank her straight. Someone needs to—she’s out of control. I take Marisela by the elbow and steer her toward the stairs. “That woman gets on my nerves.” We go to her room.

  I drop her backpack on the floor, then glance at my watch. “We have a couple of hours to kill. I need to be home by three, darlin’. Lucas stayed in town an extra day to accommodate my schedule.”

  She raises a brow. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing you need to know about yet.” I draw her into a tight embrace and kiss the top of her head. “How are you feeling?”

  “Fine.”

  “Hungry?”

  Her eyes sparkle. “How about Whataburger?”

  Unlike most girls I know, Marisela can devour a double-meat burger as quick as any guy. I love that about her. “Let’s go.” I offer her my arm.

  —

  I roll over and smack the snooze button on my alarm clock. Nine A.M. on Tuesday—the second day Craig is MIA. I don’t have a freakin’ clue what’s going on. He calls every night before bed, tells me he loves me, asks me how I’m feeling, then hangs up. It’s all very covert and I don’t like it. I’m the queen of secrets. That’s the way he’s makes me feel, anyway. But guess who’s catching up?

  Someone knocks on the door.

  “Come in.” I wipe drool off the corner of my mouth and force myself to sit.

  “You’re not going to believe what I did!” Macey prances into my room dressed in a Leave It to Beaver fifties-mom dress. Perfect as always.

  “You make me sick,” I groan, placing my feet on the floor.

  She totally ignores my negativity and flashes plane tickets in my face. “Round trip to Paris.”

  “Really?” I smile. “When? With who? Wesley?”

  “Christmas,” she beams. “I’m meeting a group of friends I hooked up with in Italy three years ago. As for my wayward boyfriend…” She rolls her eyes. “He’ll be vacationing with his family in Maui for the holiday. So I’m going solo.”

  “Wow.” I’m just a little envious, of course. “D
idn’t jock boy invite you to join his parents?”

  “Really?” She flops on my bed. “I’ve never set eyes on his father and mother. Can you imagine Wesley inviting me to his mother’s very formal drawing room and introducing me as his regular fuck?”

  Sometimes I don’t like the way she degrades herself, although she tries to mask it with humor. “His loss,” I say.

  She stares at me long and hard. “You think so?”

  I hold her hands. “Macey, you’re the most compassionate and honest person I’ve ever met. Do you even need to ask?” Is that a tear I see in her eye?

  “Thank you, baby girl.” She grins. “So what’s up with Troll Boy?”

  “What?” I chuckle. “Craig is the furthest thing from a troll I can think of.”

  “Last time I checked the definition, it said something about a cave-dwelling pig with a bad attitude.”

  I shake my head. “You two need to work on a truce.”

  “Maybe for you, not him.”

  “Shall we find a French café and celebrate your upcoming holiday?”

  She tucks her knees under her chin. “Great idea.”

  I open my dresser drawer and grab my mint-green OP boardshorts and matching halter top. I took a shower last night, so all I need to do is get dressed and brush my teeth and hair. As I step into my shorts I get dizzy, nearly falling over. Macey flies off the bed, catching my arm.

  “What’s going on, Gonzalez?” She looks worried. “Craig mentioned you were on a hunger strike.”

  “What?”

  “Joking,” she assures me. “He asked me to keep an eye on you, that’s all.” She lets go of my arm. “Sit.”

  I finish dressing, then scramble to the end of the bed.

  “Hungry?” she asks.

  “Sex starved.”

  “I’m serious, Marisela. Craig said you’ve been on a yo-yo diet lately.”

  “My appetite comes and goes—nothing new.”

  “You’re too skinny.”

  I gaze down at my tummy, then my legs. “No.”