Taken by Him Page 4

  He hunched down and gingerly kissed her belly button.

  Her pussy felt hot and wet, clenching tight as he licked a wet circle around her innie. He raised his head and smiled as he reached for her breasts. “Was this what you were thinking of—when you sat across from my chair? Were you planning to give yourself to me, getting wet all night just thinking about it?” he rasped.

  He covered her breasts, his palms large and careful as they cupped her.

  She shuddered. “Yes.”

  “Did you want me to kiss these?” He stroked them, kneading and arousing her already-throbbing nipples with his thumbs.

  She wasn’t dreaming or fantasizing now. She wasn’t alone, in her bed, imagining his face, his touch, his kiss. This man was touching her for real, was going to have sex with her, right here on the beach. The knowledge gave her a sweet sense of vertigo.

  He pinched the peaks until they were hard, sensitive little balls. Peyton forgot to breathe when he bent his head and laved them, one by one, with thorough swipes of his tongue.

  His hands felt like warm velvet as he caressed down her thighs, grabbing her knees and parting them wide. His neck and shoulders emanated tension, and the muscles in his arms rippled as he slipped his tanned, muscled torso between her thighs.

  He sought the throbbing part of her with one hand and found her. She sucked in a breath as he stroked his thumb up the damp cleft, reaching the tender nubbin above. She stiffened, overwhelmed with pleasure as he rolled the sensitive pearl under the pad of his thumb.

  He watched what he did to her. Something primitive and animal glimmered in his eyes as he stared into her sex.

  Peyton anchored herself to the ground with her fists and bucked up to his fingers. “Please hurry.”

  “So hot for it,” he said in a gentle voice, glancing up to survey her with eyes that glimmered. “God, you’re a vision, woman. Your black hair behind you, speckled with sand. I’ve never tasted something as sweet as you, Peyton. Swear to God you’re giving me a sugar rush.”

  “Please,” she gasped.

  He bent and tasted from her mouth again, then dragged his mouth down her throat, to her breasts.

  “Shh. I’ll take care of you.” He eased one long finger inside her while his thumb moved on her clit, massaging. She moaned and arched, quaking for more.

  She usually took on a more active role in the office, but she was floating here, couldn’t move anything except her hips to the rhythm of his hand.

  He watched the twisting, jerky moves of her body, his face ravaged by lust. Then his hand left her, and he lowered his mouth to her. She sobbed when he flicked her with his tongue and pleasure ripped through her.

  Both his hands stole under her, and he cupped her ass and lifted her to his mouth. His tongue drove in deep. Deeper. Flicking. Tasting. Devouring.

  Peyton’s head fell back on a very indelicate moan. She pumped her hips and her spine arched in a silent, desperate plea for more.

  “Luke,” she breathed. She was wanton, at his mercy, and she needed this so much that it didn’t embarrass her one bit. “Don’t…please don’t stop.”

  Her legs began to shake. Her belly quivered as her womb contracted. Luke grumbled something against her flesh. The soft vibration of his words mounted her higher to the peak.

  He rested a hand on her pelvis and opened it wide as his thumb dipped to stroke her nub in slow, teasing circles. A weak sound danced up her throat and got strangled there.

  The tension escalated until she couldn’t think. She writhed on the sand, tossing her head side to side, and with a few more sweet, exquisite laps of his tongue, she shattered.

  Hot, heady contractions squeezed and shook her, tearing out his name in a breathless gasp.

  She lay trembling beneath him, and he came up to cup the back of her neck with his hand. He held her head still as he bent his head and kissed her softly, his tongue lazy, hot, and tasting of her.

  Peyton could spend the rest of the night kissing him slowly like this, her body still racked in aftershocks. Her orgasm had not yet fully subsided when Luke reached between her legs and gently inserted two fingers past her wet slit.

  Delving deep, he knowingly stroked her G-spot—or something extra-tender and buried deep inside her—and Peyton gasped in surprise and arched her hips again in renewed arousal. He made her burn again. Feverish. Desperate for him. For all of him.

  He added a third finger while he continued tonguing her mouth. A mewing sound tore from her throat as she imagined his fingers were his cock, imagined the hot, delicious tongue she suckled was also his cock.

  Every wild, pulse-pounding heartbeat as she waited, wondering if she’d be fucked by him, was torture. His expert tongue and fingers rapidly urged her toward another orgasm. A crackling tension built inside her core, twisting and tightening.

  Anxiously she thought that she had to seize this moment, now—now before the practical side of her sabotaged her plans. She was used to being in control. She was used to calling the shots in her office, and this sheer torture, wondering whether he was going to fuck her or not drove her half crazy. She rolled on top of him with surprising force, straddling him with her thighs.

  “Whoa.” A soft smile played on his lips.

  Peyton settled over him and frantically sought his erection with her pelvis. His face tensed with pure, unadulterated lust when she found him. Pulsing thick and enormous beneath her. She rubbed the bloated tip urgently with the lips of her sex.

  She moved so that only the head of his shaft was inside her, and her eyes drifted shut at the glorious feeling of being taken. Penetrated.

  His hands cupped her breasts, squeezed them firmly, and a slow, sure grin spread across his beautiful face. “You don’t waste any time, do you, Peyton?” His sexy voice was roughened with lust, but also filled with playful tenderness.

  Oh, but she did waste time. She’d wasted thirty years of her life and up until a few minutes ago when she had decided to get down to this very important, very personal business of hers. “I want to feel you,” she confessed as she pressed her hips lower to his and mewled in pleasure when his full length entered her—at last.

  So big so thick so long so good…

  “I must…oh, Luke, yes!” He’d grabbed her pelvis and arched his hips to meet her. The move sank his cock deep, oh, so deliciously deep inside her.

  Her sex clenched around his hardness and clamped greedily around his length, stretching to welcome him deeper. He was so big he almost hurt. But Peyton was so wet and swollen, the relief she felt while he impaled her was overwhelming.

  “Get down here and kiss me,” he rasped. He cupped the back of her neck with his hand and forced her down to meet his lips.

  He kissed her with a strong, slow tongue, but Peyton was wild, desperate, and she twirled her tongue all over his mouth and moved her hips faster against his, faster, feeling sweaty and feverish and on the verge of a breakdown.

  She hadn’t had an orgasm in a long, long time until today, and even then, she’d been empty inside. But now that she was being fucked by Luke’s enormous cock, it felt like her climax was going to be a big one. An explosion unlike any she’d experienced…and then she snapped with it.

  Wild waves of shudders twisted and jerked through her, and she closed her eyes and let it break her, let it take her, as Luke continued to move inside her until he tensed, moaned, and shuddered beneath her.

  She sagged on top of him. For a few seconds, all she could hear was their equally ragged breathing and the lulling sounds of the ocean behind them. When she regained her composure, Luke lay limp beneath her, his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling with each of his breaths.

  His eyes fluttered open, and he reached to cup her face within one hand. “Tell me you’re on birth control, baby. I’d hate to meet my own offspring ten years from now and it’s my first time going solo since just about ever.”

  “Yes!” she said with a laugh. “I’m on birth control. I started when I planned this trip.�
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  “Then let’s wash off this sand and get back to it.”

  She sat up in almost embarrassment, flushed and red-cheeked. Luke followed her up and cocked a brow at her, absently running a hand along her cheek in a wistful, loving caress. “Are you being shy with me now?”

  He wanted her again. She could see it in his eyes. The exciting realization made her bones feel like gelatin. “No, I, yes, a little,” she said in a breath, then she stared out at the ocean. “When you said wash off the sand…” she started, then stared into his face.

  He looked gorgeous, all sated and sweaty, and as he sat up on his elbows his eyes were so magnificent—they were dark blue and shining in the moonlight.

  “We’re already skinny, so let’s just dip.”

  He hauled her up, scooped her up in his strong arms, and before she knew it, they were walking naked straight into the ocean. “Luke, you’re crazy! I’ve never done this but I can tell you right now it’s going to be freezing!”

  He laughed at her squeal and didn’t stop until they were submerged to their chests in cold water. He kissed her to heat her up, and she coiled herself around him, and before she knew it, she was drowning in his kisses. In the water. In him.

  Chapter Three

  The next evening found their naked bodies entangled and damp with sweat, Luke with one leg dangling from the hammock as they lazily swung to and fro. Peyton was coiled around his body, loving the heavy, muscled arm he had possessively wrapped around her as she rested her cheek on the unbandaged side of his chest.

  Luke stared up at the night sky and breathed in deeply. He kept repeating her name out loud, as though in disbelief, until she finally looked up at him in puzzlement.

  “Stop saying that,” she said in friendly admonishment. “You’re making me nervous.”

  “Why so?” he asked. “I like the sound of it. Peyton Lane.”

  “I never liked it,” she admitted, stifling the desire to pout like when she’d been a little girl and wanted her daddy’s attention. “When I was eight I begged my daddy to change it to something more feminine like Elizabeth, but Peyton was my grandmother’s name, who my father doted on, because she is his mom, after all, so he blatantly refused.”

  “You’re close to your folks?”

  “We’re all working people, my older sisters and my mom and dad, so it’s complicated. We try getting together once a week, though.” She walked two fingers up his chest. “You?”

  He shrugged his free shoulder, then absently seized her wandering fingers and laced his fingers through them. “My first few years, I had it good. But by the time I hit eight, I ended up raised mostly by people other than my folks.”

  She squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry to hear that. What happened?”

  “Hell, I don’t know. My mother failed to get pregnant again, then got it in her head to save all the starving children in the world. She’s probably right now in Ethiopia.”

  A silence descended as they stayed there, swinging to and fro, their fingers interlaced as Peyton absorbed his words somewhere deep in her chest, where something throbbed for him.

  “But you know how it is when the parents aren’t around? Always a party. I did everything I wanted. Shit, I still do—I can’t complain.”

  Her lips curled as she let go of his hand in order to rumple his hair. “You’re so easygoing, you’d probably make the most out of foot surgery.”

  He smacked her ass in playful punishment. “Well, would you like me to moan and whine, woman?”

  She laughed, and she tucked her face back into his neck and breathed in his scent. He smelled of sand today. Ocean. And underneath all that, she could distinguish him. His unique scent was an aphrodisiac. God, he made her wet all day.

  “Peyton Lane,” he whispered one more time, edging his head back so he could look at her. And oh, how she loved his smile. But she also loved when he looked at her so intently. “It’s so damned beautiful—almost as beautiful as you are.”

  He traced her smile with his thumb, and his gaze tracked the move.

  “I imagine you must say that very often,” she teased. “To all of your lady friends.”

  His expression turned bleak as he lifted one lone eyebrow. He studied her for a moment in silence, and the manner in which he did made her heart beat faster. “What if I do?”

  Her smile faded under his piercing, questioning blue eyes. She shook her head. “Look, we both know this is just…I don’t really care about that, Luke. I know you have a life waiting for you, and so do I.”

  Although he was a bit of a lazy boy, she realized that he moved swiftly when he wanted to, and in a flash of a second, Luke was on top of her, his body pinning hers down on the hammock. “You sound like you mean business, Miss Lane.”

  She melted under the incandescence of his regard. “I always mean business.”

  “Then, allow me to get this straight…” He dragged his eyes meaningfully to her bare breasts, then gradually upward again, turning every inch of skin he covered on fire. “I have thirty-six hours and forty-five minutes of your body at my complete and utter mercy…to fuck you any way I want…and make you come as many times as I please…and all this without getting a kick in the balls afterwards or a fucking knife through the base of my cock?”

  His eyes danced in silent laughter, and though he made Peyton laugh, too, the thought of being so completely taken advantage of triggered a delicate shiver down her spine. “Yes! That’s what I mean.”

  “Then I’d better not waste any more time.” He bent down to bury his face in her neck, and his hands threaded up to her armpits only to tickle her. When Peyton screeched in surprise and squirmed, he laughed in victory and tickled with even more force, ruthlessly, showing no mercy. “Better get down to business.”

  “No, stop, Luke, please!” She kicked and flailed at him, her stomach tight in the effort as she laughed out loud.

  “Ouch.” He winced and covered his chest for a moment, his face pained.

  “Are you okay?”

  He recovered quickly. His deep scowl was deceptive, for there was a tilt to his lips that suggested he was holding back a smile. “Now you’re really asking for it.” He tickled her with more force.

  “No, really, Luke, are you all right, are you hurt?”

  He sighed and dropped back. “I got a bruise in my chest which is still a bit tender.”

  Peyton fingered the patch. “How’d you get it?”

  His face and the way he sealed his lips shut told her he was not going to confess. Peyton gave him a seductive glance and slowly ran two restless fingers up his chest. “Doing something heroic, saving a victim from drowning?”

  “Right,” he said, rolling his eyes. “A Walking Miracle, they call me.”

  She smiled wide. “Really?”

  “No, I just like calling myself that.” He dove his fingers under her arms and tickled her some more, and this time she could hardly speak through her laughter.

  “Luke, no, please!”

  “Please what?” His voice dropped to a murmur, and his big hands slid from her ribs to cradle her breasts, his lips a hairbreadth from her hers. Smiling, she linked her hands behind his neck at the same time that his thumbs slowly caressed the tips of her breasts. “Please what, Peyton?” he insisted, his eyes darkening. She turned somber, and her voice throbbed with aching desire, her sex clenching with need.

  “Please,” she breathed.

  “Anything you want,” he whispered, and his lips slowly closed down on hers.

  The kiss was languorous but exquisitely powerful, the strokes of his tongue like molten lava warming all of her extremities. The hammock swung to and fro as Luke shifted his weight and slid a hand up her bare legs.

  “I love it that you’re ready for me before I even start playing with you.” His murmur was almost drowned out by the sea nearby, and when Peyton nodded breathlessly, he groaned and dipped his head so that his tongue worked hers again and his fingers found her just like he said. Super wet. Super
ready.

  Her womb rippled in drenched heat by the time he cupped her with his large, dry hand, and he growled in male delight and deepened his kiss as he inserted one long finger inside her.

  She cried out and lifted her hips, biting his lower lip, and he obliged her silent pleas by inserting a second finger. “That what you want? Huh? Hmm, baby?” His whisper caressed the skin of her lips and travelled down her spine, soft like cotton, causing a slow melting in her bones.

  “Please,” she breathed, clutching him closer.

  His body crowded hers, and his skin was hot and smooth against every part that it touched hers. The front of his rigid thighs brushed against hers. His abdomen felt flush against the side of her hips and waist. And that rigid, long part of him throbbed in brutal pulses against her hipbone.

  Almost violently, he sucked one of her breast tips and then lifted his head to watch her with an expression of pure animal hunger. “I’m obsessed with the way you feel when I’m inside you, Peyton. So tight and soaked as a river.”

  He twisted both of his fingers inside her to prove his point, and his eyes blazed blue fire. “Do you want me here?”

  Her pussy eagerly contracted—flaming in a painful burn—stimulated by the gentle caresses on her vaginal walls. “Yes, please, are you going to fuck me again?”

  “Oh, baby, you bet.”

  “Luke.” With every hot suckle he took from her breasts, a tremor rushed through her body. Another wanton shudder coursed through her as he screwed a third finger inside her. He scraped inside her channel until she twisted helplessly under him, the pleasure piercing her in half. “Luke, please, I want you inside me.”

  “You do, do you now.” He carried his fingers, creamed from her sex, into his mouth. She watched, breathless, as he lapped up her juices like she was the most delicious morsel he’d ever tasted. “Good things come to those who wait, Miss Lane.”

  His eyes glimmered with intent as he lowered his hands and palmed the large globes of her breasts. “Ooh!” she cried when he pinched her nipples with his damp fingers, then he rolled them between his thumb and forefinger.