Читать книгу The Dare Collection April 2019 - Christy McKellen, Nicola Marsh - Страница 23

I HEARD THE SPLASH, felt the spray over my face and the movement of the water as Ajax dived in. And my heartbeat accelerated, adrenaline coursing through me.

Yes. My gamble had paid off.

For the past couple of days I’d been hanging out by the pool, hoping he’d come. Hoping that seeing me in my bikini might make him do...something.

Because ever since he’d walked out the morning after we’d slept together, he’d been avoiding me. And I hadn’t been able to get him out of my head.

I hadn’t expected that. I’d thought that once I’d got my little piece of revenge, that would be it. I’d be satisfied. But apparently that’s not how it worked with Ajax.

One night had done nothing to put out the fire of my curiosity.

He hadn’t been around so I’d used the laptop he’d provided to distract me, but all I found myself doing was surfing the Net looking for anything I could find on him. There were old news stories about his father’s arrest and how they’d eventually caught Augustus due to some dodgy financial business dealings. Ajax had been involved with the takedown and I obsessively read everything about it, watched all the interviews that featured him. There weren’t many, but in each one his expression was hard, his eyes glittering. He looked dangerous and mean, and said virtually nothing.

I couldn’t stop watching.

The media viewed him with suspicion and, to be fair, he hadn’t done anything to change their viewpoint. But I wondered why not. Because the man the media had painted him as—the violent heir who’d somehow managed to avoid conviction—was not the man who’d cupped my face as I’d cried, who’d held me close while I’d slept. Who’d insisted that protecting his brothers and his city came before anything else, including himself.

I wanted to know that man quite desperately. It consumed me.

I’d had intense passions like this before—the tropical fish I’d been obsessed with once as a kid that I’d lost interest in a couple of weeks after Dad had bought me a tank. Or when I’d suddenly been desperate to learn calligraphy, fascinated by the black curves and elegant straight lines, getting lots of pens and different inks, practising for a day before putting everything aside and never picking up a pen again.

Ajax was the adult version of my interest in tropical fish. Or my calligraphy. He was the Mandarin I’d tried to teach myself once, the astronomy I’d been obsessed with for a whole month.

He was a puzzle that only got more complex and more interesting the closer I examined him, and I suspected that sex was merely scratching the surface of who he was.

Whatever, I knew myself. I knew that my obsession with him wasn’t going to ease until I’d satisfied my curiosity and the only way I was going to do that was to figure out a way to get close to him.

And obviously the best way to get close to him was through more sex.

I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the hours I’d spent in his bed. About how free he’d made me feel and how accepting he’d been of me and my quirks. How he’d actively encouraged me to be curious about his body and how it had fit with mine.

No one had ever made me feel as if it was okay to be myself the way he had.

So, after the first day or so of obsessing, I’d decided that I had to do something about it. Such as convincing him to take me to bed again.

Unfortunately, for that to work, he had to be around and he wasn’t. Which meant I had to try something different—getting him to come to me.

I’d been thrilled when my little ploy of hanging out by the pool in my green bikini and playing loud music had worked. But then he’d been a dick, giving me all sorts of crap about how busy he was, all the while staring at me like he wanted to eat me alive and pretending he wasn’t as hard as a rock.

So, to give him some incentive, I’d taken my bikini off. And, judging by the way he’d launched himself into the water, that was all the push he’d needed, which thrilled me down to the bone.

Still, I wasn’t sure why he’d been denying himself what we both wanted and I’d already decided I was going to find out.

I was going to find out everything.

But maybe after I let him catch me.

I turned over on my front, making an attempt to swim away, but his fingers closed around my ankle and he jerked me towards him. I took a breath as I went under, then his hands closed around my hips and I was out of the water again, being pulled against his hot, hard body and held there, face to face with him.

‘Tease.’ The hunger in his eyes blazed.

‘You can talk.’ I spread my palms out on his chest, loving the contrast of his heat with the cool press of the water on my skin. ‘I’ve been in agony for two whole days.’

‘Agony?’ His hands slid over my butt as he fitted my hips against his, the denim of his wet jeans rough against my sensitive bare flesh. ‘You should have come to me.’

‘I would have. If you’d been around.’

‘I’m around now.’ He squeezed me, not gently.

I gasped, the slight bite of pain adding to the rub of his wet clothing on my tender skin, the friction maddeningly erotic.

The feral look on his face intensified, as if he liked the sound very much. ‘What’s wrong, little one?’ His fingers shifted under me, finding the folds of my pussy and brushing over them. ‘Am I too much for you?’

‘N-no.’ Excitement made me stutter as I shifted restlessly in his grip. ‘I can handle you. But I’m not sure you can handle me.’

He gave a low growl and suddenly I was being kissed—and kissed hard.

I shuddered with pleasure, winding my arms around his neck, holding on tight as his tongue pushed into my mouth, the dark addictive taste of him flooding through me. His kiss was raw, with an edge of danger to it that I found absolutely intoxicating.

Yes, God, this was what I wanted. What I needed. Not movies or books or calligraphy or astronomy, or any of the thousand things I’d spent the last fifteen years of my life using to fill the void inside me. The void I hadn’t even realised was there until Ajax had touched me. Let me cry. Let me explore. Made me aware of what I was missing.

Him. I’d been missing him.

I tried to kiss him back, but he was having none of it, wrenching his mouth from mine.

‘Ajax, please.’ Disappointment crowded in my throat. ‘I want—’

‘No.’ His voice was so rough it was almost unrecognisable, his gaze incandescent with blue fire. ‘We’ve done what you want. Now it’s time to do what I want.’

A couple of days ago he’d taken my virginity, let me make a choice and take my revenge. That night had been all about me.

Now he wanted it to be about him.

I could not wait.

‘Y-yes.’ Excitement burned in my blood. ‘Show me.’

He smiled, ferocious and predatory. Then, without a word, he turned and carried me to the edge of the pool and set me on the tiles. Gripping the edge, he pulled himself out in one fluid, immensely powerful movement.

My mouth dried, my heartbeat going into overdrive as I watched him.

He stood there for a second, dripping water, then he began to pull his wet clothes off, dropping them negligently on the ground. His body gleamed in the sunlight, slick with water, the ink of his amazing tattoos stark against his olive skin.

I’d never wanted to touch anything as badly as I wanted to touch him.

I got to my feet and stretched out my hands like he was a fire I wanted to warm myself against, but he took a long, loping step towards me, a wolf on the hunt.

Adrenaline rushed through my veins, my excitement electric.

Slowly, he began to stalk me and I let him, backing away in the direction he wanted me to go, towards the nearest sun lounger. Then, when the frame pressed against the back of my legs, he picked me up and sat down on it with me in his lap, both of us facing the pool, my spine against his broad chest, his hard cock pressing between my thighs.

I trembled at the feel of him, at all that heat and coiled power in the taut muscles beneath me.

His hands urged me to lie back against him, my head on his shoulder, and then he smoothed his palms down my arms to my hips. They rested there a moment before easing lower, to my knees, sliding inwards to grip my thighs and gently pull my legs apart, spreading them on either side of his. He bent his legs at the knee, widening them, so his knees were holding my thighs open.

The position was exposing, the slight stretch of the sensitive tissues of my sex so hot I could hardly breathe.

He stroked over my stomach, one hand grazing the sensitised flesh between my thighs, the other lazily toying with my nipple, pinching it lightly.

I groaned, arching into his hands, desperate for his touch. But it was too light. I wanted more, harder.

‘Ajax.’ His name was a prayer in my mouth. ‘Ajax, please.’

But he ignored me, turning his mouth into my hair and nuzzling against my ear. The press of his knees was hard against my thighs as his fingers stroked unhurriedly through my folds, getting me hot, getting me wet.

He pinched my nipple harder then found my clit with his other hand and pinched that too. ‘You’re mine, woman,’ he said roughly in my ear. ‘You want to play this game with me, then that makes you mine for the duration. And you do whatever I want, understand?’

Oh, yes, I understood. And I was totally on board.

‘Okay,’ I panted. ‘I’m fine with that. Just...more, please.’

His fingers spread possessively over my pussy and he pinched my nipple yet again, making me groan. ‘That’s not up to you. Not now.’ His teeth grazed my earlobe. ‘I’m going to give you something and you’re going to put it on me.’

I nodded quickly, the intense pressure between my thighs an ache I was desperate to relieve, his light touches only maddening me further.

He pressed something into my palm—a foil packet still wet from the pool. He must have got it out of his wallet before he’d stripped.

I sat up and with shaking hands ripped it open, taking out the condom. Then I leaned forward to put it on him—or at least I tried. He made it difficult by toying with my other breast and teasing my clit with his finger, making me pant and tremble with the brutal, wicked ecstasy of his touch.

Eventually I got the condom on and then he was taking over again, holding me open with one hand while he gripped himself with the other, fitting the head of his cock against my slick flesh.

He pushed inside me and I cried out at the stretch of him, the slow, aching slide of his flesh into mine. Then he gripped me, holding me still, his hips pushing upwards, forcing himself deeper, his knees pressing my thighs wider apart.

Pleasure cut like a knife and I arched again, writhing helplessly against him, my hips jerking against the relentless push of his.

But he held me there, not letting me move, making me feel every inch of his cock as he slid it out then back in, driving upwards in a hard, brutal motion that had me shuddering.

My hands tried to find something to hold onto, settling on his forearms, my nails digging into his skin as he thrust harder, deeper.

The angle meant I couldn’t quite get the friction I wanted and I’m sure he knew that. And took complete advantage of it, every thrust driving me further and further towards madness.

I could feel the orgasm approaching, so close and yet just out of reach. Moans escaped me, desperate cries for him to relieve the growing pressure.

But he didn’t. He made me wait. Pushing and pushing and pushing, until I clawed at him, twisting in his grip. Then his fingers at last found my clit and he stroked me in time with his thrusts, the pressure firm, his cock inside me achingly hard.

I exploded around him, stars shooting behind my closed eyelids, my cries echoing around the pool. It was only then that he withdrew from me and flipped me over so I was lying face down on the lounger. Then he came behind me, gripping my hips and pulling me up on my knees, sliding into me from behind.

I buried my burning face against the linen cover of the lounger and groaned, my pussy oversensitive and still pulsing with the aftershocks. But he didn’t stop and I didn’t want him to.

That first time, up in his bedroom, he’d been holding back and it was only now that I understood how much. Because he certainly wasn’t holding back any more.

He drove into me hard and fast, low guttural sounds of pleasure coming from him as he thrust, and I gripped tight onto the cushions, more stars exploding behind my eyes, a second orgasm barrelling down on me.

I loved it. I loved how he simply took what he wanted from me without asking. It meant I couldn’t fail or disappoint him, because I didn’t have to try to be something I wasn’t, or make up for something I didn’t do.

It was enough to be myself.

And then his hand slid around my hip and down between my thighs, finding my clit and stroking relentlessly, and I stopped thinking.

The orgasm broke over me, making tears sting behind my lids and sobs choke in my throat with the intensity of the sensation.

‘You’re mine, woman,’ Ajax growled from behind me, shoving me rhythmically into the cushions as he fucked me harder. ‘Understand? Only mine.’

Then his big body slammed into mine one last time before stiffening, his roar buried against my skin as he bit my shoulder.