Page 4

ALIX

O h. My. God.

Oh my God, I can’t believe I’m doing this. I’ve never had a one-night stand in my life. I’ve never even gotten close.

In my head, I’m a slut. But in reality, I just read a lot of spicy books. Until yesterday, I never would have pictured myself picking up a stranger in a bar. Apparently, I’m doing a lot of things differently than I was yesterday.

Daemon follows me back to the house on his motorcycle. He drives a freaking motorcycle! Like, of course he does, because he just had to go and get even hotter.

His headlight shines through my back window as we pull into the driveway of Nana’s house. I take a moment before I turn off the car, staring at the bright yellow glow of my headlights shining against the house. I want to do this…I really want to, but my hands tremble with nerves and I have the worst feeling I’m going to make an idiot out of myself.

A shadow falls over me from outside the passenger window, and I look up to find Daemon standing outside waiting for me. Smiling, I turn off the engine before getting out.

“Nice place,” he says, looking around at the big yellow farmhouse and the elaborate garden surrounding it. “Not really what I pictured when you said you were staying in Ironhill.”

I laugh. “Did you think I was luring you back to my cave?”

His eyes flash with something— surprise , I think—then he grins. He steps closer and puts his hand against the car door, boxing me in against the driver’s side window. “To be honest, even if you were, I would’ve followed you.”

My heart does a stupid little pitter-patter, and suddenly I understand what the word “swoon” means. I smile and look up, meeting his impossibly green eyes. He really is absurdly handsome—almost unreal. Like if I couldn’t reach out and touch him right now, he’d disappear, slipping back into whatever magical place he came from.

In the bar, both seated, it was hard to tell how tall he is, but now, he towers over me, nearly a foot taller than my 5’4” frame. I have to stand on my toes to wrap my arms around his neck, and my T-shirt rides up so high, my entire back presses against the cold car door, and I shiver.

Daemon moves his large hands to my sides, pressing his fingers into the bare skin of my waist. I suck in a breath. God, he smells amazing. Like the musky forest with maybe a hint of roses.

Then, he bends his head to kiss me.

His lips are soft and taste like some combination of cinnamon and spearmint. My stomach soars, and I open my mouth, letting him explore me.

He moves his hands down my side to cup my ass, and then without warning, grips the backs of my thighs lifting me off the ground. I gasp and twine my legs around his hips. I can feel him growing hard against my core, and I grind against him lightly, loving the friction of our jeans.

He pulls away, whispering against my lips, “Inside?”

“Yeah. I?—”

Before I can finish, he lifts me more firmly into the air and walks toward the porch. I tighten my grip on his hips and move my head to the side to trail kisses along his neck and sharp jaw. The stubble scratches my cheeks and lips, but I don’t care. I want to feel that roughness all over my body, on every inch of my sensitive skin.

Daemon carries me up the porch steps and toward the door.

“There’s a key under—” I begin, but break off as he opens the door with one hand and we step inside. Huh. Did I forget to lock it? That’s weird, I swear I did.

The confusion flies out of my head as he kicks the door closed behind us and murmurs against my hair, “Where to, Peaches?”

Um…

I look around the entryway of the house. The guest room I usually sleep in is upstairs, but I haven’t even been up there myself, yet. For all I know, Nana has left art supplies all over the room or decided to use it as an indoor greenhouse or something. That would be hard to explain, and would definitely ruin the moment.

“Couch,” I murmur, jerking my head toward the living room to our right.

The living room is probably the least cluttered room besides the kitchen. There’s a long, red-velvet sofa pushed up against a large bay window, and a few eclectic armchairs all grouped around a spindle-legged coffee table.

Daemon carries me into the room, expertly navigating the maze of furniture, and lowers me down onto the red-velvet sofa.

I have to tilt my head all the way back to keep him in view as he towers over me. My heart is beating out of control, and I’m suddenly nervous again.

Forcing the anxiety away, I grip the lapels of his leather jacket and push it down his muscled arms. Underneath, he’s wearing a simple white T-shirt, and my mouth waters when I spot the intricate tattoos covering both his arms from wrist to beneath the white cotton sleeves. They are covered in a continuous pattern of symbols. It looks like some cross between Norse runes and ancient Arabic characters.

“Nice ink,” I blurt out.

He glances at his arm and smirks. “Thanks.”

He drops to his knees in front of me, and I part my legs so he can kneel on the floor between them. Like this, we’re almost eye to eye, and his smirk is sexy and arrogant as he runs his hands up my denim-covered thighs.

He traces his fingers over my waistband, fiddling with the silver metal button of my jeans. “Can I take these off?”

“Please.”

He fumbles with the button and zipper for a moment, and I lift my hips to help him peel them down my legs. He tugs them off and tosses the jeans to the side, and the cool air makes goosebumps pebble on my bare skin. Fuck, I’ve never been so grateful in my life for laser hair removal, or to be wearing pretty underwear. My black thong doesn’t match my bra, but at least I’m not wearing horrible laundry-day panties.

“Nice ink,” he repeats my words, grinning. His fingers trace over the rose tattoo on my right thigh as he looks at me with a clear hunger in his eyes, and I writhe under his attention. Nobody has ever looked at me like that.

I pull my T-shirt over my head, but the fabric catches on my necklace. Daemon reaches out, untangling it with a careful touch. His gaze lingers on the gold pendant on my chest before flicking to the second tattoo on my upper arm—then lower, to my purple lace bra. Heat sparks in his gaze and he leans in, pressing his mouth against my collarbone.

Good lord.

I tilt my head back and moan when he drags his lips down, sucking lightly on my right nipple through the lace.

I yank off his T-shirt, revealing that the tattoos stretch from his arms, over both shoulders, and across his chest. He’s corded with hard muscle as if he spends every waking hour in the gym. My eyes widen, lingering on his abs before I snap my gaze back up—as if I’ve only been admiring the tattoos and not his perfect body. “What do they mean?”

“They’re a family thing,” he replies distractedly.

“Like a motto?”

“Something like that,” he mutters, then leans in to capture my mouth in another kiss.

I quickly forget my questions as the kiss turns heated again. He runs his hands up my bare legs and over my stomach to cup my breasts. Squeezing lightly, he runs his thumbs over my nipples, scraping with his thumbnails. A tingle travels through my entire body and lands in my core. I arch my back, pressing my chest more firmly against him.

He goes down my neck, across my chest again, and lower until he reaches my stomach, he presses an open-mouthed kiss to the skin just below my belly button. I suck in a sharp breath at the feeling of his chin scratching against my too sensitive skin.

He pushes my legs apart and plants a kiss against the triangle of lace. I moan, and he opens his mouth, dragging his tongue over the rough fabric until I’m soaking wet and writhing.

“Take them off,” I demand.

He doesn’t follow my direction, instead, simply hooking one finger under the lace and dragging my panties to the side, exposing me. I writhe as he lowers his mouth to my core again, this time sucking my clit hard between his lips.

“What do you know?” he murmurs. “You are delicious, Peaches.”

Oh my God.

I’ve never felt this good. Not even when Ryan and I were newly married and all over each other, which was the last time I had anyone go down on me. Four years of only occasional, boring obligation sex, and I’d started to think I just didn’t like sex with real people the same way the fictional characters in my romance novels seem to.

Wrong. Totally and completely wrong.

I do like sex, and even if I never see Daemon again after tonight, I’ll be glad he taught me that.

Daemon sucks harder on my clit, scraping his teeth, and at the same time, he thrusts two fingers inside me. His fingers curl against my inner walls, and I scream. My entire body shudders, and I close my eyes, gasping for breath.

Without waiting for me to recover, he gets to his feet. He undoes his own belt much faster than he got my jeans off, and then he sits on the couch beside me. I only have a second to marvel at the size of his cock, standing straight up, before he’s tugging me into his lap.

I let out a breathy moan when I feel his tip nudging against my soaking wet entrance. I press my hips forward and grind against him, sliding the head of his cock back and forth over my core. Fuck.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wonder if I should ask him to use a condom. Fuck it, I’ll risk it. I’m on birth control, and even during the year that I wasn’t, and Ryan and I tried to get pregnant, it never worked out. I’m not even sure I can have a baby.

Pushing that thought from my mind, I refocus on the man in front of me. Daemon’s eyes are intense and seemingly lit from within. He makes a low sound of pleasure and reaches out to tear the cups of my bra down, sucking one nipple back into his mouth.

I sink down one inch and whimper, rocking harder against him, seeking friction against my clit.

“Stop fucking teasing,” he growls against my skin, his fingers pinching my other nipple hard enough to sting. “I want to be inside you. I want you to sit your fucking ass down and bounce on my cock until you come so hard you can’t see straight.”

“Jesus,” I breathe. “Where’d you learn to talk like that?”

“Prison,” he deadpans.

He’s joking, right? He must be. Do I even care right now?

Clearly tired of waiting for me to move, Daemon growls and grips my hips tightly. Spinning me around, he holds my back to his chest with one arm and presses my entire body down until I’m seated fully on his lap.

“Holy shit.”

For a second, I don’t move, adjusting to the fullness. He throbs and the pressure is so intense. I feel stretched to my limits. Impossibly full, and the sensation is almost overwhelming, but in the best way possible.

I spread my knees wider and rise slowly, sliding him out before sinking back down. His grip tightens, fingers digging into my skin, and I know I’ll have bruises on my breasts and hips by morning. I fucking love it.

I rock faster and arch my spine, leaning my head back against his shoulder. He turns his head to press his mouth against the curve of my ear, and I shudder. He then reaches around to cup me, skillfully running his fingers over my sensitive clit as I ride him.

“Fuck, Peaches,” he pants against my throat. “You feel so fucking good.”

Still stroking my clit with his other hand, Daemon pushes my hair out of the way and sucks on the skin just below my ear. His tongue traces a languid path up the side of my neck, causing a shiver to ripple through me. Electric sparks dance along my skin, igniting and burning. My back arches, and I feel as if my entire body catches fire. My clit throbs, and my legs begin to shake both with pleasure and exertion.

“Are you going to come again for me?” Daemon murmurs in my ear.

I whimper, unable to form words as I roll my hips, taking him deeper with every stroke. Tiny lights dance at the edge of my vision. My body tenses and my hips buck as waves of pleasure wash over me. I feel boneless.

Without warning, Daemon lifts me and reverses our positions again.

He slams my back against the plush cushions of the couch, causing me to gasp in surprise. With a fluid grace that I almost envy, he positions himself above me and forcefully thrusts his cock inside, filling me with an intense pleasure that radiates through my body.

I scream as my orgasm crashes over me, tightening around him just as he fills me.

A surge of heat rushes through my body, causing me to instinctively squeeze my eyes shut. My muscles tense and my toes curl as I draw my knees up. Daemon holds them open, fucking me so hard my head bounces against the cushioned armrest.

His growl mingles with my moans. He grows harder inside me, before collapsing forward and pressing his face against my chest.

Despite our size difference, it’s strangely not uncomfortable to feel his weight pressing against me. I’m completely enveloped in warm, tattooed muscles, and I lie there, growing a bit too comfortable as my breathing slows down and my heart rate returns to normal.

Finally, he pushes up on his hands to look at me. Our gazes lock, and just like that, the fragile, soap-bubble happiness of this moment bursts.

Now what?

Is he going to leave? What is proper one-night stand etiquette?

“Um…” I begin, having no idea where I’m going with this.

He grins, sliding out of me before standing. “Do you have anything to drink?”

I sit up. “Not really. I mean, there’s water.”

He gives me a cocky smile and drags his gaze over my naked body appreciatively before turning and walking naked across the room. Good lord, I want to sink my teeth into his ass.

“Water will do,” he points out of the living room and down the hall. “This way?”

“Yeah,” I mutter, pushing sweaty curls out of my face. “The kitchen is through the dining room.”

“Good,” he replies, already moving away. “I think you’ll need to hydrate before round two.”

My stomach leaps in excitement. “Round two?”

He grins over his shoulder at me. “Of course, Peaches. Did you think I could survive on only one taste of you?”

Fuck, I think I might love him. Like, not really, but I definitely love the way he fucks me. I can feel a real infatuation barreling toward me like a freight train.

I watch appreciatively as Daemon walks across the entryway and through the dining room toward the kitchen. He stops short in front of the stacks of books on the dining room table.

He picks up one of the books and looks closely at it, before turning around to face me with a grim expression. “What the hell is this?”

“Um…” It takes me a moment to process what he’s asking. “Just books. Have you ever heard of Isabelle Reading?”

“Isabelle?” he says slowly, his voice slightly strangled.

The mood in the room has shifted dramatically. Shit. Maybe he is a fan of Nana’s? If he wants to spend the rest of the evening talking about fairytales, I think I might die.

I sit up straighter, scrambling for my clothes. Instead, I find Daemon’s T-shirt. I tug the shirt over my head like a dress and stand.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, striding across the room.

Daemon remains focused on the books, his shoulders tense. Slowly, he turns to me, his eyes flicking from my face to my collarbone. He fixates on the lump of my necklace hidden beneath his T-shirt, a barrage of emotions flickering behind his eyes—horror, guilt, anger.

“Okay…” I let out a shaky laugh. “You’re freaking me out. Have you read the books or something?”

“What’s the name of the man on the cover?”

I furrow my brows. “That’s King Thorne—he’s in the book. Does it matter?”

He licks his lips nervously, and his handsome face crumples with resignation. “Fuck, Peaches. I’m so sorry about this.”

“Sorry about what?”

He raises a hand in the air, and I don’t get to hear his reply as everything goes black.