SIXTEEN - Thorn

SIXTEEN

Thorn

Never in my life have I been offered something so sweet. I tunnel both hands through her luxurious hair and tip back her head, taking her mouth. She still tastes like the purest of honey, and this time there's a hint of my imported coffee with it. But beneath both is the taste of the woman herself, something so savory and uniquely Alana that I drink to fill myself as much as possible.

God, her mouth is delicious.

She presses against me, her lush tits flattening against my much harder frame.

I deepen the kiss, and her body melts until I hold her weight. Her response is unbelievably honest, and it could be her innocence, but instinct whispers that it's just the woman herself.

I believe her about not posting on Malice Media. I'd taste a lie in her words, and she's innocent this time. The thought that somebody used her to get at me is pushed aside for now.

She fits perfectly against my frame, and I give her more of my tongue, one hand sliding down her fragile back to settle at her narrow waist.

Dreams featuring her have tormented me this last year, but not one comes close to the perfection of her in this moment.

Hell. It's worth dying if I can take this memory to hell with me.

Her fingers dig into the front of my shirt and then she's deftly unbuttoning it, her hands spreading across my torso. The soft hum of pleasure that emanates from deep inside her spectacular body slides into my mouth and surges through me like a live wire.

I fucking love how she's soft everywhere I'm hard. Oh, it's too late to save me, and my soul is doomed. But for the briefest of seconds, I can see heaven. Taste it, anyway.

Sweeping her up against my chest, I nearly stumble when she laughs, the sound free. Young and open.

Warning ticks in the back of my mind, but it's way too late for that.

Regaining my footing, I stride through my home and up the stairs to my bedroom. I've never had another woman in here, and it feels right that she's the one. No way am I going to examine that feeling.

I kick the door shut behind me and she smiles, leaning in and nipping my neck.

My girl likes to explore.

Then she sinks her teeth into the skin beneath my ear.

Fire roars down my spine to my balls, and I fight the desperate urge to push her down and fuck her until she's screaming my name. Instead, I place her gently on the bed and crouch before her, taking in the desire and curiosity in her eyes. "You're sure." My voice sounds as if I've chewed on rusty nails all night.

"I am." She hesitates only a second before reaching for my belt buckle.

Letting her play, I shrug out of my heavy jacket and then my shirt.

Her eyes widen and she reaches up to press her finger on a healed bullet wound. "There are three."

They landed across my rib cage but weren't a concern. The knife wound near my heart had almost ended things a week later, however.

She licks her lips. "So much pain." Frowning, she looks up at me, her hands pulling my belt free. "How many fights have you been in?"

"Too many to count," I say honestly, wondering if she's trying to kill me with the belt. I yank it free and toss it over my shoulder.

Her eyes widen and she looks vulnerable for the first time.

"I won't hurt you," I say, meaning it. I won't allow anybody to harm her while I'm still breathing. It shocks me that she can't see that in my eyes, but it's a good thing. If she knew her power over me, it would be disastrous. My hands shake briefly as I remove her small cardigan.

Her hard nipples press against her tank top. I owe Mrs. Pendrake a raise for buying it. Gently, with one finger, I trace a path from Alana's clavicle to one breast, pressing in at the nipple.

She gasps and her mouth opens. I drop to my knees and tear the tank over her head. Her voluminous hair falls down and she blinks, reaching behind her to release her bra, her shoulders twisting. The scar from her childhood car accident is beneath her rib cage on the right, reminding me of her fragility.

"I've got it." I brush her hand away and deftly release the clasp. There isn't another human being on the planet I'd willingly get on my knees for, but I doubt she knows that. I need to see her. So I pull the bra away and drop it to the floor. Her breasts are perfection. Perfectly round and smooth, on the smaller side, with light pink nipples.

I lean in and take one into my mouth. She grabs my hair and digs her nails in, shooting erotic pain into my skull. I test her by nipping her.

Her moan is of pleasure. Good.

I lay her back and tear off her skirt, shredding her panties. If she were mine, she wouldn't be allowed panties.

I must've said the thought out loud because she cuffs me on the ear.

Releasing her, I lift my head. "What the hell?"

"I'm not yours, will never be yours," she says through gritted teeth, her color high and her eyes glittering with lust. "But if I were, I'd wear any damn thing I wanted."

I like this flash of temper and independence. Oh, I'll lay waste to both, but it's good to see where she is. "I see." Planting a hand on her stomach, I toss her back on the bed.

She struggles to sit up, but I force her legs apart and then indulge myself. Her clit is already red and swollen, and her thighs are damp. When I suck her clit into my mouth, she jolts and then relaxes as her thighs tremble against my shoulders.

Fucking heaven. I'm right there. But I lift up to see her face flushed and her eyes dazed. "Remember rule number one." I rest my chin on her cleft.

She tries to focus, and it's adorable. And sexy as hell. "Rule?"

"Yes." Unable to help myself, I turn and bite into her upper thigh.

Her moan slips from her mouth before more liquid spills from her core.

"Tell me," I order.

She frowns. "Rule number one. No lying?"

"Yes. That means honesty at all times. If you don't like something I'm doing, you tell me. If anything scares you, you tell me. If you're unsure, you—"

"Tell you?" Her mouth curves. "Fine. I don't like that you just stopped."

My heart turns right over and heats. For her. "Fair enough." I release her gaze and go at her again, taking every ounce of her that I can. Using my fingers, teeth, and tongue, I force her up to the edge, where she hovers, gyrating against me, desperate.

For a heartbeat, I hold us both on that precipice. Then I scrape her clit, and she arches, shrieking out as the orgasm takes her.

Turns out my girl is a screamer.

Alana

I'm pretty sure he's killed me. Death by orgasm isn't a bad way to go. But then he stands and his hands go to the snap of his slacks. A fluttering starts inside me, and I'm shocked to learn I'm not done. Not even close.

He kicks the slacks aside and then everything inside me stills. The guy is endowed. I mean, he has the ego for it, but who knew? Not that I have anything to compare him to, but there's no way that thing's fitting inside me.

I lever myself up on my elbows. "This isn't going to work."

His smile makes him look years younger. "You were made for me." Then he's on top of me, his dick against my still-thrumming sex, his mouth on mine.

He likes to be on top. I can tell.

The feeling of his hard body pinning me to the mattress, making it give, shoots desire right through my bloodstream again. I shift restlessly against him, but he's not done kissing me.

With a growl, he captures my jaw and then kisses me harder, going deep. I close my eyes to just feel. Then he leans back and slides both hands from my abdomen up my breasts, squeezing slightly.

I like the bite. Yet one more surprise that I'm learning about myself.

Then he lowers his head and encloses one nipple in his inferno-hot mouth. Are all mouths this hot? I don't think so.

Then he drives me crazy. There's no other way to describe the sensation. With his mouth and wicked fingers, he takes his time on my tits, leaving bites and light bruises that will be there for weeks.

As if he wants to mark me.

I whimper at the thought.

His chuckle is dark. Knowing. "You're garna give me everything, Alana Beaumont."

I like the way his brogue comes out at times like this. Normally I can't tell he's even Irish. "Maybe," I breathe, sounding like I've run a 10k. "I guess this is okay."

He rolls onto one elbow, tosses me onto my stomach, and slaps my ass. Hard. Before I can get out a protest, I'm on my back with him covering me again. "Doesn't matter where we are or what we're doing, break rule number one and I'll retaliate." He leans in, his mouth above mine. "And you might want to remember that your butt isn't the only part of you I can spank."

My pussy trembles. Hand to God, didn't know it could do that.

His eyes darken as if he can read every thought I've ever had. Slowly, he grasps my wrists and draws my hands above my head. "Keep them here."

But I want to touch. "That's not fair."

"I'm not fair," he says, sinking his teeth into the vulnerable flesh between my neck and shoulder. Marking me again.

"Please," I whisper, surprising myself. No matter what he says, we have to be temporary. This might be our only night.

He leans back and studies me. "Such a pretty please. All right. This time."

I thrill at the thought of this lasting more than one night.

He kisses me again almost as a reward and I realize it's a good thing we're temporary. If he gave it half an effort, he'd own me. As this stands, I think I'll remember this night until my dying day. My clit aches and I feel empty inside. He sucks on a nipple, and I nearly orgasm again but hold back.

He caresses my entire body as if memorizing each inch. "You're giving yourself to me. Understand?"

"Yes." I'd say anything right now. I feel like I'm drowning but have no desire to rise to the surface. But I frantically trace his body, trying to learn each hollow and sharp muscle, each wound and scar. There are so many. His back is shredded, and within the whip scars, I feel more pointed wounds from weapons. All sorts of weapons.

I push against him. Needing all of him. "Thorn?" I hiss raggedly.

He lifts up from my breasts, his nostrils flaring, looking like a predator in danger of losing its treat.

"I ache," I whisper, gyrating against him. A big, gaping emptiness is inside me, and I need him. Need him to feel this. Need to understand I'm not alone.

Something in my gaze catches his attention and he nods, pressing against my entrance. "You're on birth control and I'm clean."

I pause. "How do you know that?"

"I know everything about you."

He pushes the tip inside me, stretching me. "You're sure."

The fact that he asks again burrows deep into my heart and takes hold. "I'm sure." This is my decision and never should've been anybody else's.

Then Thorn is pushing inside me.

God, it hurts. I curl my nails into his taut arms and try to relax my body. I want this. Kind of. Maybe. Wait a minute—

He kisses me. Going deep, taking every thought out of my mind. Before too long, I'm kissing him back, my body on edge, my hands caressing up and down his arms to then tangle in his hair.

All the while, he continues pushing inside me. He reaches the barrier and we both hold our breath.

Truth be told, I wondered if it was still there. I had played sports as a kid, and hymens aren't all that reliable. Unfortunately, I know it's there, and he plunges right through it.

Pain shrieks through me and I arch, scratching into his skull.

"There you go," he murmurs in Gaelic, kissing me again, unleashed fully this time.

Sparks fly and nerves flare, even with the pain. Pleasure and pain mingle and become one, much as they had when he spanked me. Finally, he's inside me, all of him, and I feel way too full.

He lifts up, his eyes unfathomable as he watches me closer than anybody in the world ever has. Then he moves. Slowly at first, gauging my reaction, he pulls out and then pushes back in.

I hold my breath as more pleasure than pain ripples through me. Then he does it again, and when I widen my thighs for him, he growls. Low.

Releasing his hair, I scratch down his back and sink my nails into his tight butt.

It's as if I've let him off a leash. He pulls out and shoves back in, setting up a hard rhythm that bounces the headboard against the wall. Thunder rolls outside and lightning strikes before the rain beats at the windows. We're alone in this world, and there's nothing except the two of us and this moment. I feel myself climbing the cliffs again as lights spark behind my eyes.

The roaring comes in from somewhere, taking over my senses. Then I explode, fragmenting into a million shards. I cry out his name, loudly, and hold on, trusting him to get us through the storm.

Whatever I'm feeling is more than pleasure. There's no name.

I whimper and soften just as he stiffens and hardens, his body jerking inside me. I can feel each ripple through his muscles, and I hold him, wanting to tether him to the world.

He pauses, still inside me, and kisses me.

This one is gentle and soft. Sweet and promising.

I blink. While I'd meant to give up that stupid barrier in my body, I'm very much afraid I've given up more than that.

Forget my heart. Does he have my soul?