Love at First Sight Series Boxed Set: (Books 1-5) Page 34

  Dizzy with desire, with my breasts aching for the feel of his hands and my bones turning to liquid fire, I thrust my hips forward. The force of my action turns the light lingering of his index and middle fingers at my opening into full-blown penetration. The firm flick of his thumb and the slow grind of his finger fucking sends me spiraling over the edge. The ripples of pleasure are scrumptiously overwhelming and seemingly never-ending.

  My broken wings have finally healed. I soar to heights of heavenly sensations I never dreamed were possible.

  Standing, he offers me his hand, smoothly pulls me to my feet and says with a wicked gleam in his eye, “Let’s take this to the bedroom.”

  I can’t wait to make love with him on his beautiful, British Colonial jackwood bed, but I’m not finished making sensuous memories in this room yet. Despite desire-weakened, trembling legs, I place my hands on Tretan’s chest. He gives me a lazy, sexy smile with just a hint of amusement. When I push him down onto the Queen Ann chair, it squeaks beneath the weight of his big, muscular body.

  Kneeling in front of him, I rest my arms atop his thighs and stroke his dick.

  He groans deep in his throat. “You don’t have to do this, little dove.”

  I place a finger to his lips, shushing him. “I want to. I really, really do.”

  He nods. I kiss his stomach, my tongue trailing a path down to the base of his shaft. Gently pulling him into my mouth, I suck and kiss the tip, tasting the salty drop of moisture beaded there.

  Looking into his lust-filled eyes, I lick my lips before sucking my way down his entire length then back up again. His hips jerk, and his head falls back against the chair when I flatten my tongue against the underside of his cock and languorously run it up to the top. Lifting his head, he captures my gaze and fists his hands in my hair. He’s wearing the addled expression of a man dazed by desire. “If you don’t stop, Täubchen, I’m going to come in your pretty mouth.”

  “Perfect,” I whisper, dropping my head and taking him all the way to the back of my throat.

  “Fuck,” he says as I rub my tongue up and down his manhood before sucking him all the way back in again. I slowly, seductively manipulate him, making sure he sees every rigid inch of his cock disappearing inside my mouth. Picking up the pace, I combine the suction of my lips with the stroke of my hand. Tretan lets out a fierce growl, thrusting and fucking my face to the tempo he needs in order to come. Relaxing my throat and breathing through my nose, I swallow every ounce he gives me.

  Lacking the strength or impetus to walk under my own power, I am so relieved when Tretan sweeps me into his arms and carries me to his bedroom.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Tretan Voss

  THIS REMINDS ME OF the night Fernando brought Nora here. Just as I’m doing now, I carried her in my arms to my bedroom and placed her on the edge of the mattress. Only this time, her feet aren’t cut and bruised. Her bottom lip isn’t split. Her wings aren’t broken. She is healed, and she has healed me.

  The uncertainty, guilt and self-loathing I’ve carried for years died between her climax and mine. In this woman’s arms, I recognize how good it feels to be alive. To be happy and in love. To finally be free of the past. My life will never be like it was before the fire, before death, before my family disowned me. But with Nora by my side, it can be good again.

  The sight of her beautiful face framed by her thick, flowing hair, her abundant curves and her long, shapely legs dangling off the side of the bed rips me from sternum to spleen. The dip of her waist and the flare of her hips are more temptation than I can stand. I cup her breasts, relishing the weight of them in my hands. Her smooth, creamy flesh feels like the finest silk against my palm, making me want to reverently and recklessly stroke every supple inch of her.

  “Täubchen, lie back and open your legs for me.”

  “Okay,” she says on a breathy sigh.

  “Just relax and let me love you,” I groan, grazing my teeth over one pink, pebbled nipple then the other. The taste of her tits fills my belly with a raging inferno of desire.

  The need to take her with primitive abandon is overpowering. I want her so fucking bad. The need to have her beneath me—on top of me, wrapped around me—is unbearable. From this instant on, she is my woman and will forever be locked in my heart and embrace.

  As I continue to worship her breasts, Nora’s soft, sensual responses send searing sensations of animalistic need through my balls. She is quickly derailing my plans for a long, slow seduction. With a guttural growl, I slide further down her body. Placing fervent, open-mouth kisses over her ribs and down her rounded belly, I seek the heart and heat of her.

  Burying my face in the soft, dark curls between her thighs, I torturously tease her clit with my teeth before passionately probing her with my tongue. She cries out with each velvety penetration, fisting her hands in the sheets and murmuring my name.

  I want to go easy and not rush our first time together, but her eagerness and feathery-soft pleas rip away my restraint. I’m barely able to form a coherent thought when I sink two fingers into her, urging her to ride my hand while I eat my fill of her sweet little cunt.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Nora Adams

  I MELT BENEATH THE insistence of Tretan’s mouth and hands. The urgent demands of his exploring tongue stoke the flames of desire licking through the flowering petals of my womanhood. I am helplessly his and wouldn’t have it any other way.

  His tender lovemaking has awakened an unadulterated longing so strong it makes me tremble from the force of it. This man’s touch is so gentle yet filled with such passion, I can’t stop myself from begging him to end the sweet agony he has aroused.

  “Tretan?”

  “Yes, little dove?” he says, lifting his head and meeting my smoldering gaze with his fiery one.

  “Make our bodies one. Please. I can’t take this separation a second longer.”

  Swiftly, he gets to his feet, brackets my hips with his powerful hands and slowly slides the fullness of his arousal into my wet, welcoming warmth. With each fluid stroke, his cock rubs my clit in the most sinfully sensuous way imaginable. I squirm and twist in an effort to prod him to go faster and harder. When that doesn’t work, I grab hold of his wrists to anchor myself and say, “Pound me like you fucking mean it.”

  He growls through a smile and pummels me into oblivion. With every thunderous thrust, every dig of fingers into my flesh and every grunt from his heaving chest, my world tilts on its axis. I clutch his wrists, scoring my fingernails across his flesh. My back arches off the mattress, and I cry out in ecstasy as his hips keep churning, sending waves of sensation through every molecule in my body.

  Never have I experienced such intense pleasure. With a primal groan of his own, Tretan explodes inside me, triggering yet another orgasm that rocks me all over again.

  When his erection ebbs and slips from my body, I slide up the bed so he can lie beside me. Wrapped in each other’s arms, I drape my leg over his hip and say, “You’re a really good lover, Mr. Voss. I guess you’ve had a lot of experience.”

  “Are you fishing, Nora?” he asks teasingly.

  “Maybe.” Caressing his cheek, I say, “I want to love all your hurt away.”

  He covers my hand with his. “You already have.”

  “In that case, I want to spend the rest of my life giving you all the pleasure you’ve missed and deserve.”

  “Is that a marriage proposal, my little dove?”

  “It sure is. What’s your answer, Tretan?”

  “My answer is yes. I have never known any greater pleasure than what I have found in your arms, Nora. And nothing would make me happier than making you my wife.”

  “Then it’s settled,” I say, smiling contentedly. “I think I’d like a December wedding.”

  He rubs his chin. “Let’s tie the knot on Christmas Day.”

  I squeal my excitement. “Yes! Let’s do! I can’t think of a better present.”

  “Me either,” he
says, giving me a squeeze. “And between now and then we can spend our days and nights practicing for the honeymoon.”

  “That’s the best plan I’ve ever heard,” I coo, pressing my breasts against his chest.

  Pushing me onto my back, he positions himself between my legs. The evidence of his arousal juts against my low belly.

  “Is it too soon for you, Nora?”

  Biting my bottom lip, I shake my head and say, “Not soon enough.”

  My words are all the encouragement he needs. Spreading my legs wider with his knee, he pushes deep inside my pussy, filling and fully possessing me. Being taken this way by the man I love is exactly what I want and need, now and forever.

  Reaching beneath me, he grabs my ass, a hand on each cheek. The extra leverage gives his hips more thrusting power. Burying his face in the side of my neck, he kisses the sensitive column of my throat while whispering, “I love you, Nora. God, I love you so much.”

  In between sighs of pleasure, I say, “I love you more than life itself, Tretan.”

  He pumps into me like a piston until we cry out our orgasms in unison.

  When he rolls off of me, he asks, “Are you as happy as I am right now, Täubchen?”

  “Yes,” I say, hesitating a second too long.

  He pulls me on top of him and tilts my chin up with his finger. “Look me the eye, and tell me the truth. Why aren’t you completely happy?”

  I try to drop my head, but he holds me still. “You’ve taken such good care of me, given me so much and made me feel so loved that I feel horrible for saying this, but—”

  “But what, little dove?”

  “I can’t be one hundred percent happy without Miss Bliss. I miss her so much.”

  “I know you do,” he says, hugging me close to his chest. “I—”

  His phone rings before he can finish. I roll onto my side while he takes the call.

  When he hangs up, I ask, “Who was it?”

  He grabs a pair of warmups and pulls them on, then throws me a pair of my yoga pants and a T-shirt before answering. “Vadik. He has a package for me and wants to bring it up now.”

  “Oh, okay. I’ll go to the bathroom or out on the balcony and give you some privacy.”

  “Nonsense. You’ll get dressed and stay right here with me.”

  Sensing Tretan’s anxiousness, I hurriedly dress and stand beside him just as we hear a knock at the door. “He’s here,” I say, looking forward to seeing him again. Our first meeting was rushed and not under the best of circumstances. In fact, our introduction was little more than a brief glance and a nod. Vadik had been in a huge hurry to usher Alice off the property and out of our lives for good. There was no time for pleasantries.

  Gently nudging me toward the door, Tretan says, “You answer it.”

  I give him a questioning look.

  “Go on. Do as I tell you to,” he orders me with a smile.

  Opening the door, I scream, nearly fainting. Standing in the hallway is a terribly uncomfortable looking Vadik, gingerly holding my squirming furbaby in his huge arms! My precious puffball, Miss Bliss! Unable to contain my joy and excitement, I jump up and down, clapping my hands and screaming, “I can’t believe it! I simply cannot believe it!”

  Vadik grunts, “Take her.”

  The moment he extends his hands, Miss Bliss jumps from them into my arms. She excitedly climbs up my chest and showers me with puppy kisses all over my neck and face. I’m completely overcome with emotion. I can’t stop the tears of joy from flowing down my face.

  He salutes Tretan, mumbles “Good to see you again” to me, then speedily turns on his heel and leaves.

  Huffing, I say, “I wanted to give him a big hug and properly thank him, but he practically bolted out of here.”

  “Vadik doesn’t like displays of emotion,” Tretan says, petting Miss Bliss on the top of her little pompom head.

  I continue to cuddle my baby, still not believing she is really here. “How did you find Miss Bliss?”

  “Vadik did all the leg work. When the bank foreclosed on your mom’s house, she left your puppy at a pound. It took my man a while to get her back because she had been adopted.”

  “Oh, no. My poor baby has now been ripped away from two homes. How did the adoptive family take the news?”

  “It was a couple of millennials who only wanted Miss Bliss around for Instagram pics. They were more than eager to hand her over in exchange for the ten grand I paid them.”

  “Thank you so much, Tretan. I can never repay you for all you’ve done for me.”

  “No, little dove. It is I who am forever in your debt,” he says, leaning over and kissing my head. “And Nora?”

  “Yes?”

  “I think we best take Miss Bliss for a walk. She’s had a long trip, and Vadik isn’t the type to stop for pee-pee breaks.”

  I giggle. “I don’t imagine he is.”

  Putting his arm around my shoulders, he escorts me and Miss Bliss down the long, winding spiral staircase leading to the front exit door. “Are you one hundred percent happy now, Täubchen?”

  “So happy!” I say, leaning into him.

  When we walk out into the evening air, Fernando is outside and falls into step with us. Sally is perched on his shoulder squawking and singing.

  “Raawk! Nora and Tretan fucking by the sea—Raawk—F-U-C-K-I-N-G!”

  All of us laugh long and loud while Miss Bliss happily wags her tail. As I bask in the joyful sound, I look up at the sky and silently thank my lucky stars that I no longer have an anvil hanging over my head.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Epilogue

  Nora Adams

  OUR WEDDING WAS AS magical as the time of year in which it took place. Tretan hired a new cook and housekeeper—Katie—who previously happened to be a caterer and a wedding planner. She spent days grocery shopping and prepping ingredients for a delectable smorgasbord of decadent sweet and savory dishes. On top of that, she orchestrated the ceremony and oversaw all the decorations for our Christmas-Day nuptials on the pier.

  We were married by a nice, genteel priest from Tretan’s old neighborhood. Fernando was Tretan’s best man and, since Katie and I had grown so close over the weeks leading up to my big day, she stood up as my maid of honor.

  When Tretan told me he had captured the bikers and was holding them in a cargo container, I had two reactions. First, I was touched he had sought out my assailants, punished them and avenged me. Second, I recognized his vigilante methods were not exactly in keeping with the law. So, I convinced Tretan to have Vadik escort the Rolling Lucifers to the police station where they would confess their crimes against me.

  Also, Foras had to roll over on my mom. He did, and she spent the holidays behind bars, where she will remain for the next three years for her role in my abduction. Even though she is my flesh and blood and, on some level, I still love her, she had to pay for her sins, too. What she did was atrocious and unforgiveable. But honestly, everything before today is in the past. And just as I told Tretan, the time is now for moving on.

  How have he and I been moving on? Well, he has been restoring an antique crib and stroller. You see, we are expecting our first child in seven months. Miss Bliss is already playing the part of protector by keeping a close watch over my growing belly. I spend my days unpacking, cataloging and shelving those five thousand beautiful books in my library. I figure I should have them all organized by the time the baby arrives. When my husband and I are not working around the lighthouse, we take fun boat rides, leisurely strolls along the pier and, of course, we make lots and lots of hot, passionate love. I truly am the luckiest girl in the whole world.

  His for the Tempting

  Chapter One

  Zuri Patton

  AS I AWAKEN TO the horribly-pungent, antiseptic odor that can only come from a hospital, the last thing I remember is being dragged off the city bus by a big-bellied cop. With a translucent ring of glazed sugar from a doughnut crusting the corners of his mouth, his
curses sounded comical. He huffed and puffed like an asthmatic as he cuffed me. Still, I continued to kick and scream and claw at his beet-red face until a zap of electricity from his Taser gun crumpled my knees.

  Now those cold, hard, metal bindings have been replaced by padded, leather restraints. I don’t like the feeling of being strapped down. My heavy eyelids fly open while panic grips me like a pair of icy, angry fists. I flail my arms and jerk my legs in an impotent effort to free myself.

  A deep, graveled yet soothing vocal sound floats through my fuzzy brain from a shadowed corner. “Struggling will do you no good, Miss Patton.”

  Swallowing past the dry, cottony lump in my throat, my voice comes out scratchy. “Where am I? Who are you?” I ask the stoic-looking man sitting in what appears to be a well-worn but comfortable-looking, fabric-upholstered chair.

  He stands and shoves the piece of mint-green colored furniture across the bright-white, tiled floor. It stops just short of my bedside. Sitting once again, he gives me a searching look. The intensity of his dark gaze makes me shudder.

  Opening the top drawer on the nightstand to his right, he extracts a notepad. He then pulls a deep-burgundy-colored pen from the inside pocket of his tan, tweed jacket. His choice in writing implements is telling. The sleek design. The shiny finish. The elegance and expense all say this man has plenty of money. That he wouldn’t be caught dead with a regular, run-of-the-mill Bic ballpoint in his possession.

  Removing the gold-trimmed cap, he jots down a few words and says, “I’m Dr. Midian, and you are in the psychiatric ward of Doyle Pleasant Hospital. Do you recall the events of last evening?”

  “Yes. Can you take these restraints off me?”