Wicked As Sin Page 11

  No fucking way he would deny her anything.

  As he crushed her swollen lips beneath his, One-Mile tore into the button at the waist of her shorts. Next, he yanked down her zipper. He tugged the denim and her underwear away all at once, jerking them down her thighs. Later, he’d take a gander at whatever pretty, lacy shit she’d worn that would undoubtedly tempt the hell out of him. Right now… He dropped his stare to the one place on her body that would no doubt seduce him most.

  Oh, sweet pussy.

  Soft and pink, hiding shyly behind a tuft of dark hair. And so fucking wet.

  His mouth watered, and he dropped between her legs, bending them, then tossing them over his shoulders as quickly as he could. “I’m so fucking hungry.”

  “Pierce…oh—”

  She stopped talking the instant he filled his mouth with her succulent flesh. The tart-sweet flavor of her teased his tongue as he explored her folds and valleys. She was lush and ripe—like a fucking fantasy. He ate at her ravenously, wondering if he’d ever get enough.

  Under him, she cried out, head thrashing from side to side. Her thighs suddenly tightened around his head. Her fingers thrust into his hair as she began scratching at his scalp. Her little moans became high-pitched pleas that reverberated in his ears and messed with his restraint.

  Fuck, he loved heaping pleasure on her.

  One-Mile pushed her thighs wider, dragged his tongue up her center again, and let out a gruff groan as she gushed into his mouth. The clit he took between his lips was engorged and hard as hell. God, he’d love to mouth-fuck her half the night, but she wasn’t going to last. And neither was his nagging cock. If he didn’t get inside Brea soon, the fucker would drill a hole in his mattress to find relief.

  Under his insistent tongue, her hips wriggled. Her harsh breaths filled the room. Her cries grew louder. He could fucking smell her—under his nose, on his lips, all over his sheets. It made him hungrier. Fair or not, he demanded more from her.

  Reluctantly, he released her thighs to clamp his fingers around her hips so he could use his grip to press her onto his tongue. Every fucking time he lapped her up, she gave him more sweet cream. She was making him crazy. Goddamn hysterically insane. He was always in control, always aware of everyone and everything around him, threats assessed, escape routes mapped. Right now, his fucking house could burn down but he wouldn’t give a shit about that or the danger until she fucking came on his tongue.

  When her clit swelled even more and began to quiver as it turned to steel, One-Mile knew he had her.

  Yeah. Oh, fuck, yeah. Give. It. To. Me.

  As if she read his mind, Brea did, exploding with her next gasping breath as she stiffened and tossed her head back with an ear-piercing scream that made her entire body quiver and jolt.

  Into his mouth, she pulsed and flowed. He plunged his tongue into her so he could feel the hard clamp of her body throbbing with the ecstasy he gave her.

  He licked her through the pinnacle, making sure she rode every euphoric moment that twisted on and on until her body went limp, leaving Brea to gulp in recovering breaths of air. Smiling, One-Mile licked his lips as he climbed up her body.

  Slowly, her lashes fluttered open. She blinked up at him, her eyes so golden they looked molten. Her stare was like a battering ram to his solar plexus. With just a look, she staggered him, knocked the breath from him.

  Bullshit. She destroyed him.

  “You good?” he managed to get out.

  Her lips curled into a little smile. “Ahhhmazing. Can you make me feel like that again?”

  He was already on fire, but her words poured gasoline over the blaze. Fuck waiting another second. “Right now, pretty girl. Right the fuck now.”

  His entire body buzzed with need as he took his cock in hand and fit it against her snug opening. He stared, forcing her wide eyes to meet his as he began to rock and thrust inside her, slowly shoving his tip past her swollen flesh.

  Jesus, she was so fucking tight.

  One-Mile eased out, rooted to her opening again, then pushed harder. She gasped in a catch of breath that had him freezing in place. She sounded as if she was in pain. He would have sworn he felt something inside her give way—almost as if it…broke.

  What the fuck?

  Before he could ask, the force of his next mindless thrust sent him delving deep. He tumbled inside her unimpeded, until he was blessedly submerged balls deep.

  Dear God…

  Her scalding heat surrounded him in a feeling unlike anything he’d ever experienced. An involuntary shudder wracked his body. Holy fuck. This woman was going to burn him the fuck alive. Right now, all he could think was how badly he ached for the flames.

  He’d process these last few moments—how he felt and what it meant—then they’d talk. But later. Much fucking later.

  Now was for making Brea scream his name.

  “Oh, damn, pretty girl…”

  When he looked down, he was surprised to find her eyes screwed shut tight.

  “It hurts,” she whimpered.

  Fuck, the last thing he’d ever want to do was cause her pain. He had to find the control to be gentler—somehow. She’d had a massive orgasm, and while she was swollen he’d battered into her like a damn blunt-force object. He owed it to her to make her feel good.

  But his goal was to give her so much fucking pleasure that she’d never want to spend another minute naked with Cutter Bryant.

  “I’m sorry,” he crooned. “I’ll slow down. No more pain.”

  Slowly, she relaxed around him. “Really?”

  “None. I promise.” To prove it, he stroked softly into her, down, down, until his crest nudged her cervix.

  Oh, holy hell…

  “That’s better,” she sighed breathlessly.

  “Yeah?” He kissed her overheated cheeks, swiped his thumb across the perspiration at her temple.

  She nodded. “That feels…good.”

  Fuck, did it ever. He thrust a bit faster, still watching her face for any sign of discomfort. Thankfully, nothing but soft excitement filled her face. And when her lashes lifted from her cheeks, opening his view to the windows of her soul once more? Yeah, his cock nagged and ached for relief, but the vise in his chest squeezed even harder. Her expression played hell with his self-control.

  Those fiery golden eyes of hers said that, at least for now, she totally belonged to him.

  His fingers on her hips tightened. He tried so fucking hard to hold back and stay in control of his rhythm, but his body was done waiting.

  His thrusts picked up pace. “A little or a lot?”

  “A little.” She writhed under him, moving with him as he slid in and out of her like melted butter. Then she tightened with a cry. Her gaze bounced up to his in shock a second before she liquified under him with a moan. “Oh. No, a lot.”

  So he’d found her sweet spot. Fuck, yes. “More?”

  She clarified her incoherent sob with a wholehearted bob of her head.

  One-Mile took that as a hell yes.

  He tucked his hands under her ass and lifted her closer, tilting and opening her wider to penetrate her deeper. The shift didn’t just give him access to the most untouched corners of her body but put him in direct contact with her still-sensitive clit.

  As soon as he did, she gasped and shuddered, her stare going wide with both shock and a hundred silent questions.

  He just smiled as he settled into a quick tempo. She’d figure it out—pretty quickly if her reaction was any indication.

  There was something so unbearably intimate about staring into her eyes as he fucked her. Every emotion, every thought, every shred of bliss? He saw them all. One-Mile swore he wasn’t reading just her body but her mind. And she was telling him that she couldn’t hold out much longer.

  “Pierce!” She clamped down on him.

  He filled her faster and ground down on her clit just to help things along, because goddamn it, he’d held back for her as long as he could. Everything inside
him was poised and screaming at him to let go of his restraint and fucking explode.

  Hell of a time to remember that he’d monumentally screwed up and—for the first time ever—forgotten a condom.

  He didn’t care. Whatever happened next? Yeah. Bring it. He didn’t need anything more than this moment, right now, to know that Brea Bell belonged to him. Whatever she had with Bryant was history.

  He’d make sure of that.

  If there were consequences from tonight…the timing might not be optimal, but the end result suited him just fine.

  Beneath him, Brea suddenly went wild, rocking with him, nails in his back, lips on his neck, her cries in his ear. Then he felt her cunt clenching, her breath stopping, the air stilling, and the need building in his heavy balls bursting.

  Teeth bared, he growled as his restraint broke. He shoved his way inside her with a dozen rapid-fire thrusts that had his headboard beating the wall—and Brea clenching on him as she let loose a shrill shriek of ecstasy and shuddered wildly under him.

  Jesus. Holy hell. Fuck, fuck, fuck… But no self-talk could stop the overwhelming wall of rapture. It flattened him, undid him, turned him around, twisted him, then spit him back out. After long, mind-blowing moments, he finally found the other side of ecstasy, gasped for air, and tried to process what the fuck had happened. He felt different. He felt changed.

  He felt like hers.

  Under him, she heaved a sigh, lips parted, eyes closed. The tension in her body eased, except the occasional pulse of her pretty pussy around his softening cock.

  She blinked up at him, clearly stunned. “Oh…my goodness.”

  That was her version of holy fuck, and it made him laugh. He slicked back the damp hair clinging to her forehead and cheeks. “Yeah, you could say that.”

  “I had no idea…”

  Cutter must be a real deadbeat in the sack. No wonder she was here instead of with him. Keeping her might be even easier than he’d imagined. With chemistry like theirs, it would be years—hell, maybe a lifetime—before they got enough of each other.

  “How do you feel, pretty girl?”

  The smile that curled up her pouty mouth was almost self-conscious. It matched her still-flaming cheeks. “Happy. Like I’m floating. Best feeling ever.”

  One-Mile laughed, stupidly thrilled. Whether she knew it or not, she’d just admitted that was the best sex of her life. The fact that she loved being with him and wanted more only made him feel on top of the world. This was Christmas in August—but better. Unless he missed his guess, it wouldn’t take much to make sure he could unwrap her every single day.

  “It is.” He laid a soft kiss on her lips. “It was amazing.”

  “Yeah…”

  Her voice still had that dreamy quality when he reluctantly withdrew. She winced, biting her lip and clearly holding in a cry. Shit. Had he somehow hurt her?

  “What’s wrong?”

  But the words had no more left his mouth when he sat back on his knees and looked down.

  Blood.

  One-Mile already knew from having his mouth all over Brea that she wasn’t in the middle of her period.

  The moment he’d pushed his way into her slammed back through his brain. The tightness. The feeling of something giving way. Her admission that it had hurt.

  The obvious occurred to him, but…how was that possible? From his research, it seemed she’d been Cutter’s girlfriend for years—at least based on her barely used social media accounts. The asshole had taken her to her prom. He’d held her hand and posed for a dozen pictures during her high school graduation. He’d been her first haircut when she’d finished beauty school.

  If she had been anyone else, One-Mile would have dismissed even the small chance that she’d been innocent when he’d carried her up to his bedroom less than an hour ago. But this was Brea. She was a preacher’s daughter. She was a good girl to the core.

  Oh, shit. Maybe Cutter hadn’t been cheating on her the night before her father’s heart attack as much as getting some relief because he really was a Boy Scout who had agreed to wait for Brea until marriage.

  At least that might have been his plan until One-Mile had barged in and ruined her.

  Oh, holy fuck.

  “Brea…” He forced her to meet his stare. “You promised me the truth tonight, so be fucking honest. Were you a virgin?”

  Chapter Six

  Brea gaped. She crossed protective arms over her breasts. Self-preservation warred with her innate desire to be honest. But the way Pierce kept staring tied her tongue. Thinking seemed impossible. She wished she could crawl inside her skin and hide.

  He’d figured out she was a virgin. Was he mad? Shocked? Dismayed? Did he feel guilty? Responsible? Disgusted?

  Those possibilities had her eyes stinging with mortifying tears. Why couldn’t she stop feeling so horribly vulnerable?

  Brea bolted up from the bed and scanned the room for her clothes. “I already answered your questions.”

  “I have more.”

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”

  Pierce stood, utterly naked and unconcerned, and prowled toward her with narrowed eyes. “So…what? Now that we’ve fucked, you’re done being honest?”

  She flinched at his question. “Please. That’s enough.”

  “If you’re measuring honesty, it’s never going to be ‘enough.’”

  Finally, she found her panties and snatched them up, doing her best not to stare at his big, naked body. “I meant that I don’t appreciate your language and I don’t owe you my personal information.”

  “As the guy who unwittingly took your virginity, I disagree. By the way, isn’t lying a sin?”

  “Yes.” Technically, so was having sex outside of wedlock. She would have a lot to repent for after tonight. “But I was merely asking you to drop the subject and respect my privacy.”

  He scoffed. “Since I’ve had my dick deep inside you, I think we’re past privacy.”

  Brea managed to step into her underwear, but it didn’t make her feel less naked under his black stare. “I’m leaving.”

  Her dratted bra was nowhere to be found. Where the devil had he tossed it?

  A blip of a memory flashed through her brain of Pierce stripping it off of her downstairs…just before she’d begged him to touch her breasts. What had she been thinking?

  Nothing—beyond him easing the unrelenting ache inside her.

  “Stay.” He gripped her arm. “We need to talk.”

  Pierce spoke like he wanted to have a serious conversation…but his stare caressed her nipples, still tight and tingling from his attention. His penis began rising again.

  An answering desire stirred between her legs.

  She ignored it, plucking up her shorts and slapping them over her breasts. “No, we don’t.”

  If she stayed, she feared they wouldn’t spend much time talking.

  “Since you were a virgin, even if you’d rather not admit that, I’m assuming you’re not on birth control.”

  She froze. She’d had no reason to be on birth control. And he hadn’t used a condom.

  Brea’s mouth fell open on a silent gasp. She staggered back. How had she been so careless?

  Pierce’s grip was the only thing that kept her from falling. “That’s what I thought. Where are you in your cycle?”

  She couldn’t think beyond her dismay. “Pierce, please… I have to go.”

  “Not until we figure out how likely you are to get pregnant.” His grip tightened. “Refusing to talk won’t solve anything.”

  You have a habit of burying your head in the sand. That won’t always work… Cutter’s warning drifted through her head. He was right, but she wasn’t ready to face the stark reality of her choice and its potentially monumental consequences.

  “Please stop talking. And let go.” She yanked her arm from his grip.

  He released her so abruptly she stumbled back—only to get another eyeful of him in his head-to-toe naked glory
.

  Heat flared through her.

  Brea had never imagined being blasphemous enough to think that God had a sadistic streak. But why else would He make the only man she’d ever found irresistible be the one her friends, family, and community would never approve of?

  Biting her lip to hold in a cry, she turned away and dashed down the stairs.

  Pierce followed, his heavy footfalls sounding determined not to let her get far. “You didn’t ask, but I’m clean. I’ve never had sex with anyone else without a condom.”

  Of course she hadn’t thought he’d been pure, but when she imagined him being as intimate with another woman as he’d been with her, jealousy twisted a knife in Brea’s chest. Her stomach turned in a sick grind. Her eyes stung again.

  She had to get out of here.

  Brea dashed down the stairs and darted to the kitchen, plucking up her bra and shirt as she crossed the room to her purse. Pierce was right behind her, his breath hot on the back of her neck.

  “Stop running, damn it, and talk to me. We’ll work through it.”

  She whirled on him, the tears she’d been trying to hold back spilling like hot acid down her burning cheeks. “I’ve given you everything I offered you in exchange for Cutter’s life. Now we’re even. I need to go.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You’re kidding yourself if you think the only reason you let me take you to bed was to save your boyfriend’s life. I made no secret of the fact I wanted you. But you fucking wanted me, too. Woman up and own it.”

  He was right, just like she knew she should be honest with him about her relationship with Cutter. But when he looked at her, Brea felt more exposed than she had when he’d stripped her naked and penetrated her.

  “There’s nothing left to talk about.”

  “Bullshit. You’re afraid. I get it. But this fucking wedge of distance you’re driving between us right now isn’t helping.” He stalked toward her.

  Brea juggled her clothes and her purse in her hands, backing up for every step he prowled closer. “Stop.”

  “Not when you’re upset.” He wrenched the items from her grasp and tossed everything on the kitchen table. Then he lifted her off her feet and carried her to the sofa, plopping down on the nearest cushion. He settled her over his lap, facing him so she straddled his hips. His big hands swept up her back, urging her head onto his shoulder. “Talk or cry or whatever you need. I’m here.”