Authors: Unknown
DevilishlyHot (19 page)
Annie positioned herself over his prone, truly amazing body. She placed a hand on his chest, running it over him. His collarbone, his chest, stopping to tease his tight little nipples, then down over his hard belly.
“How about rugged?” she suggested, stroking down to the curls covering his pelvis. She stopped short of his massive erection that pulsed at her exploratory touch as if it was trying to make sure all attention was focused on that part of his anatomy.
“Rugged is good,” Nick said, his voice raspy and breathless. His obvious desire ignited Annie’s, the sound of his voice like lighter fluid and a match to her libido. She was going up in fiery, intense flames.
But she managed to keep herself focused on her wonderful game.
“How about sexy?”
Her fingers toyed with the coarse, springy hair that surrounded his cock. She even brushed her fingertips against his testicles, only to move on to stroke down both of his thighs.
“Sexy would—would,” he hissed as her fingers brushed dangerously close to the head of his penis. “It would be fine.”
Again she caressed closer this time, wanting to touch him as much as he wanted to be touched. But she also wanted to play. To tease him. To drive him wild with the need.
“Hmm,” she pursed her lips, pretending to consider other ideas. “What is the best way to describe you?”
He shook his head, the gesture agitated, a little frantic. “There must be something.” She played with his pubes more, “accidentally” brushing the back of her hand occasionally against his arousal.
Finally, she paused her exploring and shot him a naughty grin of her own. “I got it.”
He lifted his head, waiting for her to say, his eyes hooded, his lips parted, his breath coming in short pants of desire.
“What?” he managed to ask.
“I’ll just tell them you’re hung.”
With that she curled her fingers around his thick erection and moved to lap the tip.
Whatever Nick had expected her to say or do, these two things weren’t it, but he sure as hell wasn’t disappointed with either, as a noise somewhere between a chuckle and a moan rumbled in his chest.
She continued to stroke him, but grinned at him, very pleased that she’d managed to surprise him.
“Only you could make that sentence sound so darn sweet,” he managed to tell her, even though it was very difficult for him to concentrate with her small fingers driving him mad.
“Darn, I was trying to be as naughty as you.”
He smiled, loving this lighter, teasing side of her. Loving her little Southern twang as she flirted. Loving the way her touch made him feel.
“You are very naughty,” he assured her, the roughness of his voice saying exactly what effect her naughtiness had on him.
“You are a very big boy,” she informed him, tilting her head to watch as she touched him, her fingers running up and down the length. Playing with the sensitive tip, then slipping all the way down to his testicles, which were tightening up to his body with the need to find release.
“Am I?” he asked almost absently. It was damned hard to stay focused as she touched him. He felt like a green teenager, fooling around for the first time. Conversation, even sexy banter, was beyond him at the moment.
“Yes,” she murmured, then seemed to instinctively understand he couldn’t follow the conversation any longer. So instead she decided to use her mouth in another way.
He groaned loudly as her tongue licked up the length of him. He muttered something incoherent, his fingers tangling in her hair, messing up her pretty little twist.
She didn’t seem to mind as she continued to lick him like he was some delicious treat that she was savoring fully. Then she took him deep into her mouth, hot, wet heat surrounding his aching flesh. Almost instantly he felt his orgasm rise up, rippling down his spine and through his abdomen, centering deep in his groin.
“Oh God, Annie!”
Reflexively he tightened his grip on her hair, but managed to gather his wits enough to loosen his hold. This moment of aggressiveness didn’t seem to faze Annie. She still bobbed her head, her mouth taking his length in and out, her tongue swirling and licking and driving him precariously close to the edge.
And while he’d love to keep going, to release into her eager little mouth, that wasn’t where he wanted to orgasm for their first time. He wanted to be buried deep inside her, watching her expression as they both came together.
With Herculean control, he forced himself up so he could reach her. She made a small disappointed noise as he tugged her away. His cock leapt in response to the noise.
Trust me, buddy, he said silently to his greedy cock, you are going to like where you are going next even better.
“Didn’t you like that?” she asked as he slid her up his body. A little moan escaped her as he settled her over the top of him.
“I liked it way too much, but I want to be inside you.” He reached down between her thighs, open to him because of how she now straddled him.
He slipped a finger inside her panties to tease the tiny little center of her sex. She automatically ground her hips forward at the touch.
He rubbed her there for a few moments, loving the reflex movement of her hips against his touch. Then he slipped lower into her moist heat to slip a finger inside her.
He gasped along with her, his cock pulsing against her rear end.
“Mmm, this is where I want to be.”
She nodded, her eyes half-closed, her lips parted, pink and glossy.
“Please,” she pleaded brokenly, riding his finger.
He would have liked the teasing to continue longer, and when he wasn’t so out of his mind to be inside her, he would take his time. But right now, only one thing drove him.
He rolled her onto the mattress, then made quick work of ridding her of her panties and bra. She lay among his rumpled blankets and sheets, her hair mostly free of its twist, tangled wantonly around her pretty face. Her rose-tipped breasts puckered and pouted, begging for his mouth on them.
He didn’t deny them, ducking his head to taste first one, then the other. She arched her back, offering them to him without hesitation. He suckled her for a moment longer, again annoyed with his impatience.
But he did feel like he was making love for the first time, and he couldn’t control his desire. He swirled the tip of his tongue around her taut little nipple, then lifted his head to study her.
Maybe there was a reason for the inexperienced impatience he was feeling. Maybe he really was making love for the first time.
He gazed down at her beautiful face. Her large gray eyes, eyes that made him feel protective and possessive and happy and worried and so damned turned on that he could burst. Her pretty bow-like lips that he sometimes thought didn’t smile enough, but when they did he couldn’t seem to recall a prettier smile before hers. And her body that was curved in all the right places. Perfect, full, pert breasts, a small waist flaring into womanly hips and soft smooth thighs. She was perfection and there was little wonder he felt like a schoolboy finally getting to home base.
Then she looked up at him and nibbled her lower lip.
“Is everything okay?” she asked, her voice a little thicker with her accent, because of her uncertainty.
Didn’t she realize how absolutely besotted he was with her? Then again, how could she understand when he didn’t quite understand himself?
But instead of saying that, or thinking about the intensity of his desire for her, he simply nodded.
“Couldn’t be better.”
He moved over her, their chests pressed together, their legs intertwined, his cock pressing to the soft curve of her mons. He leaned forward, his arms braced on either side of her head, and pressed kisses to her lip. Softly at first, then growing with the uncontrollable desire that had overcome them both from the very first moment they had touched.
“Please,” Annie whispered against his lips, which was all the urging he needed.
He balanced himself on one arm as he positioned himself to fill her. To finally be where he desperately wanted to be.
He slid in, just an inch or so. Annie’s head arched back, the hard tips of her breasts brushing against his chest.
“Oh Nick. God, yes.”
Their eyes locked as he slid deeper inside her tight, wet fire. Then deeper. And deeper.
Soon he filled her. Her muscles clasping him, accepting him, keeping him. He stayed motionless for a moment, just reveling in the glory of this connection.
Then she wiggled and her hands stroked down his back and over his buttocks, digging into his skin.
And he couldn’t remain still any longer. He began to move, easing in and out of her, trying to remain steady, smooth. But all too quickly, their desire whirled out of control like a wild eddy of wind in a storm.
He thrust into her deep and hard and with a mindless need for them both to reach the place where desire turned to bliss.
Under him, Annie writhed and bucked, demanding the same thing. Their lovemaking was rough and wild and so intense that when he felt her vagina spasm around him, her cry filling this air, he could do nothing but follow her response.
He thrust into her one last time, as deep as he could, and held there, shouting out his own orgasm, the force of it ripping through him. His muscles seized and his breath left him.
And damn it, nothing had ever felt more wonderful.
Chapter Eighteen
A
nnie woke, frowning into the darkness, trying to gather herself.
nnie woke, frowning into the darkness, trying to gather herself.
Where was she?
She started to move, to struggle upright when she felt hard warmth at her side and the comforting weight of an arm across her waist.
Nick. Her heart leapt at the memory of exactly where she was. She was with Nick.
She eased onto her side, so she could see him. He slept on his side, facing her, his pillow bunched up under his head. She studied his features, his mussed hair, his dark lashes. His sensual mouth accented by the scruff of his five o’clock shadow. His arm, strong and sinewy, holding her. Making her feel safe.
She sighed, letting her eyes drift closed again.
Nick. Having him close, holding her. His heat, his strength. She felt safer than she had in years.
She stifled back a yawn, snuggling closer to him, floating in that strange world between sleep and wakefulness.
Safer, she repeated in her mind. Safer than she’d felt in years.
Since ... Finola ...
Suddenly a cold chill, starting deep in the pit of her belly, snaked through her. Uncurling throughout her body, into her chest, her limbs. A shiver wracked her, despite the blankets and Nick’s warmth.
Finola. Oh God. Finola.
She looked back to Nick, his face peaceful. Beautiful. And ...
Fear joined the iciness in her veins and she had to get out of bed, away from him. What had she done?
Carefully, she inched her way toward the edge of the mattress, sliding out of his hold, not wanting to disturb him. Not wanting to talk with him. Not right at this moment. She was too frightened, too confused. And she had to figure out how to handle everything.
Once out of bed, she tiptoed around, searching for her clothes. As if it wasn’t hard enough to think straight, she sure as heck couldn’t do it standing naked in Nick’s room. But her hushed search in the dim light seemed another fruitless task. No clear thinking, no clothes. She was doomed.
Finally she found Nick’s dress shirt. Better than nothing, she decided. She slipped the soft cotton garment on, smelling Nick’s soap, his masculine scent. She resisted the urge to press the cloth to her face and breathe deep. Instead she worked the buttons closed as she walked over to the bedroom window, feeling the need to put even more distance between Nick and herself. Even as his wonderful scent surrounded her as surely as his arm just had.
She closed her eyes for a moment, determined to gather her thoughts. When she felt a little calmer—a very little—she opened her eyes and stared out the window, her thoughts still whirling. After a few moments, her gaze actually focused on what was going on outside, nature mimicking her swirling, turbulent thoughts.
Snow whipped and eddied through the air. A full blizzard raged outside, and she hadn’t even realized. Nick’s apartment was quiet and warm, the dim light cocooning them, shut away from the reality outside.
But the walls were really just a thin barrier against Mother Nature, just like they were only a thin barrier against Finola.
Reality would find her again. It always did. And her reality was very dangerous. Maybe even more dangerous than a blizzard. Certainly more unpredictable.
More unpredictable than the elements. Dear God, what had she been thinking? Nothing, that’s what. No, nothing wasn’t accurate. She had been thinking about one thing. How much, how very, very much she wanted Nick. And that had blocked out any other concerns. But now, reality was seeping in.
She made a small noise of despair, then quickly glanced over her shoulder to make sure she hadn’t woken Nick. He was now sprawled on his back, one muscular arm flung up over his head. His other hand rested on his stomach. From here she could see the tattoo on his left shoulder, although aside for the impression of a vague image and some scrolled detailing, she still couldn’t tell what it depicted.
She turned back to the window, staring into the storm. Snow came in torrents, battering the windows, swirling in a wild blinding vortex. She peered out, trying to see how much had accumulated, but at times the snow was so heavy she couldn’t even see the streetlights below. The outside world was just a mass of white.
The analogy wasn’t lost on Annie. Surrounded by White. Finola White. So oppressive and overwhelming that she threatened to block out every bit of light in Annie’s life.
Annie had worked so hard to avoid doing anything that would incite her evil boss’s rage. Annie had been so cautious and systematic and always trying to predict and avoid every pitfall.
Yet, tonight she’d done something that would so obviously anger Finola. Anger wasn’t even a strong enough word. Yet Annie had blithely ignored the fallout of her desire for Nick. She’d lost any sense of self-preservation.
Truth be told, she’d never even considered what would happen when Finola found out that she, mousy, meek, often terrified Annie Lou Riddle, had gotten involved with the very man that her demon boss wanted for herself.
Annie couldn’t contain the distraught groan that welled up from inside her. She rested her forehead on the cold windowpane.
She was as good as dead. Or as good as soulless, which Annie had come to know was worse.
What had she done? God, what had she done?
She closed her eyes, trying to stay calm. She would have to do something to rectify this. After all, at this point not only was her immortal soul in danger, but probably Nick’s too.
She groaned again, having that awful, helpless feeling that if she could just go back and redo this night, she would. Not because she wanted to, but because it was the smart thing to do.
“Are you okay?”
Annie jumped as arms came around her waist. Behind her she could feel Nick’s hard chest as he pulled her back against him. He rested his chin on her shoulder, and she realized the real scent of him was far headier than the fading smell clinging to his shirt.
She breathed in deep, trying to stay focused on what she needed to say. How she was going to end this before they got too involved.
“Wow, it’s really snowing,” he said, his low, husky tone tickling her ear.
She nodded, still unable to find any words. He was just so damned distracting.
“Looks like we could be trapped here for a while.”
God, she wished it was forever. Just the two of them. Here. Safe from the elements out there that could hurt them.
“Are you okay?” he asked again.
No. But how did she tell him? What did she tell him?
He squeezed her tighter, then kissed the side of her neck. The sensitive skin right below her earlobe. Even as she told herself not to react, she found her head falling back against his chest to afford him better access.
He kissed her for a few moments, teasing her skin with his nibbling lips, his hands that had been at her waist slid upward, cupping her breasts through the cotton of his skirt, the soft material rubbing against her pebbled nipples, along with his skilled fingers.
“I like seeing you in my clothes,” he said, his voice rumbling with pleased possessiveness.
She couldn’t speak. But she needed to—she had to say something to bring this madness to a halt.
Being involved with Finola’s current romantic interest wasn’t just a risky situation. Or an uncomfortable one. It was outright dangerous. And she had to handle this—somehow.
She opened her mouth to tell him the whole thing had been a mistake. She could say that she wasn’t actually over Bobby. That he’d been a rebound, just like he’d feared. But instead of any words, only a gasp came out as he squeezed her nipples, gently plucking them.
“Come back to bed. You are freezing,” he whispered in her ear. “And I know a great way to warm you up.”
Again she tried to speak, to tell him no. That should be simple enough. But the one-syllable word might as well have been like trying to speak an entire foreign language. She couldn’t even begin to turn him down.
But still she didn’t move; she just leaned heavily against him, letting his talented hands explore her body. She closed her eyes, blocking out the storm outside as one of his hands slid lower, down between her thighs.
“Hmm, you are warm somewhere, aren’t you?”
She nodded, struggling to remain focused on what she had to do, but as soon as he parted her and began to stroke her clitoris, all thoughts disappeared.
Tonight she was safe. And they definitely weren’t going anywhere in this wild weather. Couldn’t she just love him a little longer?
She turned in his arms, placing her arms around his neck and kissing him with all the passion that roiled inside her. She could show him how she felt tonight. Tomorrow would be a different story. Tonight she wanted to revel in her mistake.
“How could he have known?”
Tristan remained totally still as Finola paced. She came to a stop right in front of him. “How?”
Tristan repeated the same answer he had since Satan left them. “I don’t know.”
Finola had played the contrite favorite while their ultimate Master was here. Satan had requested that they show him their plans for Fashion Week. Their strategies to recruit the top executives of rival magazines. Gather more souls and more power.
Satan had been pleased, and so had Finola until Satan returned back to Hell and then Finola had shown her real feelings.
“I don’t see how he could know, unless someone told him.” She glared suspiciously at him.
“It was not me,” Tristan assured her, also repeatedly. “I serve you, Mistress.”
He kept his gaze lowered, knowing the quickest way to please her was to play the submissive. Of course, he’d been “apologizing” for hours.
Finola was not to be appeased tonight. She did not like being called out by their overlord and she also did not like having to give up something she wanted. And she had very much wanted Nick Rossi.
Tristan knew he should just let her continue ranting at him, grilling him. But he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Why does Nick Rossi matter? Why do you want him any more than any other handsome mortal male?”
Finola stopped pacing, frowning at him. She was so angry that some of her demon traits had slipped through her human façade. Her pupils now vertical, diamond-shaped slits. Hints of her snake form.
“That is none of your business,” she informed him, the last of the sentence coming out as a hiss.
Tristan couldn’t recall ever seeing Finola this angry. But he wasn’t surprised; she did not like to be called to task.
“However, can you explain to me why I am with you tonight?” she demanded. “Rather than on my date with my handsome human. Fucking my handsome human.”
She just wasn’t going to believe he wasn’t involved somehow, not matter how many times he told her he wasn’t.
But in one last attempt, he met her eyes. “Finola, I do not know. You know I support you. I am your ally, your servant, your friend.”
Finola stared at him for a moment longer. Then slowly she walked over to him.
“And tonight you are going to be my lover,” she stated. “You are going to provide me with what I thought was going to get from that mortal male.”
Tristan nodded, lowering his eyes again. She couldn’t think this was a punishment for a lust demon like himself. Sex was never a punishment. And certainly they’d had sex before. Many times before.
So if this would somehow calm her temper, he was more than willing. Who was he kidding? He was always more than willing.
Finola slid her hand down his pants, curling her long, cool fingers around Tristan’s hard cock, squeezing and pulling on the engorged organ. Her aggressive touch aroused him even more.
He groaned loudly, the sound echoing through Finola’s bedroom suite.
Finola smiled at his reaction.
She ordered him to strip and lie on her bed. When he’d done what he was told, she slowly undressed herself, then straddled him.
She ground herself against him. He groaned, enjoying her roughness.
“Are you sure you have no idea who could have contacted our Master?” she asked, rubbing herself against him, harder.
“I swear, my Mistress.”
She smiled then. “I will trust you, Tristan.” She then mounted him, riding him rough and hard. Pleasuring herself over and over again.
Finally after satisfying herself until she was limp and exhausted, she allowed him to come.
Tristan shouted out his release, glad that she finally seemed to accept that he hadn’t informed Satan of her actions and also glad that she had slaked her needs on him rather than still pursuing Rossi.
Finola rolled off him.
“You may leave now,” she said; and Tristan, used to her abrupt dismissals in every aspect of their relationship, thought nothing of it.
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