Chosen: Part Six (Allure Book 6) Page 10

  Despite her undeniable arousal, she was still so tight. Grinding my teeth, I eased into her, a single, achingly slow but unrelenting thrust that didn’t stop until she’d taken all of me. Sweat beaded my forehead as I held myself still, giving her time to adjust. Her nails dug into my buttocks as she wrapped her legs around me. At the same moment, she deliberately tightened her inner muscles all along my length.

  I gasped as all thought of restraint burned away. My body burned in the blaze of erotic sensation. Every inch of my skin felt on fire. I shook violently, barely able to breathe.

  With a harsh cry, I drove into her relentlessly, reveling in the certainty that in her arms, in her, I was safe, welcomed, cherished. I was home.

  Her soft cries joined mine as she came, her body convulsing again and again, milking me so hard that the edges of my vision went dark. I pulled almost all the way out before gripping her hips and driving into her once more. The need to climax overwhelmed all else. Her name was a prayer on my lips as I surrendered to it.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The chirp of my cell phone dragged me from the depths of sleep so profound that it bordered on unconsciousness. I stumbled awake, my mind too sluggish to focus. I wasn’t entirely sure where I was but the utter satiation of my body kept me from caring.

  “Hello?” My voice was slurred, as though I’d been drugged. Dimly, I realized that was true at least in some sense. My endorphin levels had to be off the charts.

  “Grace, it’s Todd.” Normally, my brother was as adept at concealing his emotions as everyone else in the family. But now he sounded tense and even…frightened? His voice wasn’t entirely steady as he said, “I’m sorry to wake you but something’s happened.”

  And he was calling me? I couldn’t remember him ever asking for my help. Nor was it likely that he was simply the conveyer of some bit of family news. That would be my mother or, if truly serious, my father.

  I sat up in the bed. Adam was next to me, lying on his stomach with his face turned toward me. Even in the dim light of pre-dawn, the sight of him had an effect at once soothing and arousing. His eyes were still closed, dark lashes fanning out over his cheeks. I had to resist the urge to run my fingers over the rough silk scruff along his jaw.

  “What is it?’ I whispered, not wanting to disturb him. “What’s wrong?”

  “Will Foster is missing. We were supposed to meet, to talk about…something to do with the family.” He hesitated a moment. “But he never showed.”

  My mind cleared with brutal swiftness. A chill went through me, driving out the lingering languor of sexual satiation.

  “I went over to his apartment,” Todd said. “When there wasn’t any answer, I got the landlord to let me in. There’d been a struggle…broken furniture…a little blood.” Hastily, he added, “Not a lot. I think he’s still alive but somebody’s got him.”

  I desperately wanted to believe that was true. If the intent had simply been to kill Will because of what he’d learned from Patrick, it would have been made to look like an accident.

  “Did you notify the authorities?” Todd was my brother and I loved him but I still needed to know how honest he was willing to be. Not so much for my own sake but because Adam had made it more than clear that he was going to be involved. I couldn’t stop him but I could still protect him, or at least I could try to.

  “No,” Todd said. He sounded resigned but determined. “Look, Grace, the odds are overwhelming that the family’s behind this. That being the case, the only way to help Will is to stay under the radar.”

  Given that Grandmother’s reach extended into virtually every institution both public and private, including the New York City Police Department, I couldn’t disagree with him. On the contrary, I was relieved that he recognized the need for extreme discretion and even more that he’d shared what he knew.

  I’d hoped for time to discover what Patrick had found but events had overtaken us. We had to act now or risk losing everything.

  “I’ll be on my way as soon as I can arrange a flight.”

  As I spoke, I glanced down, finding Adam’s crystalline blue gaze locked on mine. His ‘monster’ stirred behind them but it no longer frightened me. In it, I saw all the fierce power and will that made him the man he was.

  He’d clearly been listening but he asked no questions and he raised no objections. He simply took my free hand, his fingers curling around my own as his thumb gently stroked my palm. My response was instant. The shock of what I had just learned ebbed, replaced by a sense of gratitude for how far we had come since our dark beginnings.

  I heard Todd exhale with relief before his conscience kicked in. He was, after all, my brother. “I do need your help, Grace. Clara and I can’t trust anyone else. But you have to know, the way Grandmother’s mind works, this could be a trap. Will may just be the bait.”

  I was so unaccustomed to any member of my family expressing concern for my well-being that I didn’t know how to respond. Adam’s hand tightened on mine, letting me know silently that he understood. Whatever awaited us in New York, however twisted and deadly it was, we would face it together.

  Quietly, I said, “It’s all right. I’m not coming alone.”

  CHOSEN CONCLUDES!

  In

  CHOSEN: Part Seven

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  ~~~~~~~~~~~~

  EXCERPT

  I wake gasping for air, swept by a wave of panic that subsides only when I manage to untangle my body from the covers and sit up.

  For a moment, I have no idea where I am. Gradually, the bed and the room resolve around me. I force myself to breathe slowly until my heart stops hammering against my ribs and I am reas
onably certain that I can stand.

  The rank wisps of a nightmare still cling to me. Afraid to chance returning to sleep, I leave the bed and pad over to the tall doors at the far side of the room.

  Earlier, I observed that they give onto a second floor balcony overlooking the garden. I am about to open them when a sound stops me. It is faint but distinct, and very close. I strain, listening as it comes again, a little louder and more quickly. At first the intervals between the sound are random but then it becomes so steady that I finally realize what I am hearing.

  Rain is splattering against the glass panes of the doors. Rain. As with so much else, I know what it is without having any memory of ever experiencing it. That at least I can remedy. Without hesitation, I fling open the doors and step outside.

  The stars are gone, replaced by dark, roiling clouds backlit by streaks of lightning. The columned overhang above the balcony protects me until the wind, mounting in the heart of the storm, slants the rain past it. Drops fall across my face, against my body, warm and delicious, smelling of a distant sea and a lush, moist land.

  I catch their taste on the tip of my tongue and laugh, stretching out my arms, holding them high so that the rain sluices down my bare skin, streaming in rivulets toward my breasts. That quickly, the silk nightgown dampens. The fabric clings to my nipples, making me suddenly aware of them.

  Hesitantly, driven by curiosity about my own body, I touch one, then the other, watching as they harden. The sensation is startling.

  Scarcely breathing, I skim my hands over my breasts, noticing that they feel heavier and fuller. My fingers drift slowly downward, finding the contours of my waist, the dip of my naval, the flat, suddenly quivering plane of my abdomen until they come to the juncture of my thighs. Pressing lightly, I’m surprised to feel through the fragile silk a hot, satiny wetness that owes nothing to the rain.

  Emboldened by the darkness, swept up in the fury of the storm, I grip the fabric of my nightgown. Slowly, I begin to raise it, baring my ankles, my calves, a little higher, until just as I raise the gown above my knees, I freeze.

  Ian is standing nearby, watching me.

  My entire body blushes. Too late I realize that his room must be only a short distance from mine, a space that narrows to inconsequence as he comes toward me. His chest is bare above black pajama bottoms that ride low, exposing the V of his hip muscles and his tight, washboard abdomen. As the rain blows over his broad shoulders and cut torso, his skin glistens darkly.

  A few feet away from me, he stops. “I told you to go to bed.” His voice is soft and almost detached.

  I drop the gown so that it falls once again around my ankles and lift my head. Quelling my embarrassment, I return his stare.

  “That’s something you tell a child.”

  Reluctantly, the corners of his mouth twitch. “Your point being that you aren’t one?”

  “I’d say that’s obvious. Besides, I couldn’t sleep.”

  “Why not?”

  “I have no idea. Perhaps I’ll find out tomorrow, if you choose to enlighten me.”

  He needs a moment to realize what the defiant edge in my voice, the tilt of my head, the straightness of my back and shoulders mean. When he does, the heat in his eyes sends a ripple of dark excitement through me.

  “Sarcasm, Amelia? You truly are full of surprises.”

  He closes the distance between us until we are separated by mere inches. If I swayed toward him even a little, my nipples would rake his bare, sculpted chest.

  Softly, he asks, “Do you really want to challenge me?”

  Of course not! This is a man to placate and soothe, above all to please. But when I open my mouth that isn’t what comes out.

  Instead, I hear myself say, “I told you earlier, being compliant isn’t in my nature.”

  His grin is wolfish. Before I can even think of drawing away, he brushes his knuckles down my cheek, along the line of my jaw and throat to the soft hollow at the base of my neck where he presses lightly.

  My breath catches. His touch is both arousing and strangely comforting. He holds me spellbound.

  “I think you have a lot to learn about yourself,” he says.

  Step by implacable step, he backs me against one of the columns along the outer edge of the balcony. The sudden hardness against my spine comes as a jolt. I have a flashing image of myself secured to the column, my hands raised high above my head, fastened with silken bounds.

  Slowly, holding my eyes with his, Ian reaches for the golden pins that still hold the coiled diadem of my hair. He pulls them out one by one.

  As he does, I watch the play of emotion across his face. He looks like a man in the grip of a compulsion as irresistible as what I myself am feeling, a ravenous wildfire of hunger for each other that threatens at any moment to rage out of control.

  Having freed my braid, he wraps it around his hand and gives a tug, drawing me even closer to him. A low groan breaks from him as his mouth claims mine, sucking at my lower lip. I feel the sudden, sharp nip of his teeth before his tongue plunges into me, exploring, stroking, demanding.

  Abruptly, my legs give way. I catch hold of his shoulders just in time to avoid sliding down the length of his body to his feet.

  A shudder runs through him. I can feel how desperately he is fighting for control.

  “Last chance, Amelia,” he says against my mouth. “Go back inside now.”

  I’m beyond being able to speak. All I can do is shake my head.

  A long quiver of anticipation runs through me as he grips the neckline of my nightgown. With his eyes locked on mine, he slowly pulls the garment down to below my naval. My wrists are caught in the sleeves, trapped against my hips. I feel the rain cool against my back, sizzling away the heat pouring from me, from him, from us.

  Looking down at my exposed flesh, he groans. “You are so beautiful.”

  Releasing my braid, he wraps his fingers around the base of my breast, his long fingers squeezing lightly, caressing, and lowers his head. I feel the rasp of his stubble against my skin in the moment before he sucks my nipple into his mouth, swipes his tongue over me—once, twice—and sucks again hard.

  A cry of mingled shock and pleasure erupts from me. I grab hold of his hair with both hands and pull. He releases me but only for a moment. Covering my breast with his roughened palm, he circles it against the hypersensitive nipple as he takes the other into his mouth and subjects it to the same exquisite torment. I writhe against the column as all thought of trying to stop him vanishes.

  Abruptly, he lifts his head. What I see in his eyes should frighten me but I’m beyond that, driven by need for this man that eclipses all else. My throat is so tight that only a whisper escapes me.

  “Please…”

  For a moment, I am terrified that he will not respond, that he only means to toy with me, proving his mastery and leaving me to suffer for defying him. But if any such thought has occurred to him, he is beyond acting on it. Instead, he makes a low, guttural sound and bends, tucking an arm under my knees and lifting me effortlessly.

  A few quick strides and we are in the golden room. He kicks the doors closed behind us, carries me over to the bed and drops me flat on my back. Before I can draw breath, he comes down on top of me, kissing me deeply if swiftly, his mouth trailing from mine down my body until he is stopped by the nightgown bunched around my hips. Sliding his hands under me, squeezing the cheeks of my derrière, he pulls the gown the rest of the way off.

  He is still wearing the pajama bottoms but even so the combined sensation of his skin against mine with his weight and strength controlling me is more than I can bear. Desperate for what I can barely glimpse, I struggle to move as my hands push against his shoulders.

  “Please…Ian…please!”

  I’m not resisting…exactly. But I need…something…to touch him…to have some control over what is happening to me…

  Against my throat, he murmurs, “Another time, luscious, I’ll give you free rein but not now.”


  Before I can more than dimly realize what he intends, he grasps my discarded nightgown and coils the fabric between his hands, pulling it taut. An instant later, my arms are stretched above my head, my wrists secured to a column of the bed.

  The sudden crash of reality with the fantasy image I had minutes before on the balcony sends a surge of panic through me. I cry out at my own helplessness and begin to struggle in earnest.

  But not for long. His breath warm against my skin, he murmurs, “Easy, just breathe, Amelia. Breathe.”

  Gasping, I try to do as he commands. He smiles at my effort. “Good girl, so good.”

  His approval sends another deep quiver of pleasure through me that persists as he spreads my legs, bending them at the knees so that I am suddenly open and fully exposed to him. I feel the heat of his scrutiny in this most intimate place before he lowers his head between my thighs, the rough silk of his cheeks nuzzling me.

  He looks up and his eyes meet mine down the arc of my body.

  “If you touch me, I’ll lose it,” he says, almost apologetically for what he is denying us both. His voice rasps against my skin. “Even so this time is going to be fast.”

  The broad flat of his tongue lashes out, lapping my most sensitive flesh from top to bottom again and again in long, firm strokes before the tip suddenly plunges, swirling into the source of the wetness coming from deep inside me. The pleasure is unbearable. I writhe under him, moaning frantically.

  In moments, I am on the edge of something agonizing yet exquisite that I cannot resist and desperately need. It is so close, so very close—

  I mewl in protest as he stops suddenly and slides up my body. Teasing the tip of my tongue with his, he says, “Taste yourself, beautiful. You are so damn delicious.”