Page 21 of Sweet Deception (Irish Kings #4)

Chapter Eighteen

Bozhe moy, not again…

Darren’s mouth on mine obliterates whatever self-control I was desperately clinging to.

As his lithe fingers tangle in my hair, my hands fly to his chest. I mean to push him back, but he’s so close, so intent on this kiss, and the testosterone emitting from him in heady waves intoxicates me.

Any restraint I may have stored up flies right out of those barred windows.

The first moan escapes me when he deepens the kiss, dipping his fluid tongue into my open mouth. He groans back in reply, his hands sliding down my back and squeezing me against him until there’s no moonlight between the line of our bodies.

His kiss opens floodgates of fire in my core.

Why does his mouth have this much power over me?

My fingers curl to fists around the fabric of his shirt.

Soon, my greedy hands push the fabric up until Darren releases my body long enough to rip the shirt over his head.

When my hands fall to his bare skin, electricity zaps me from head to toe.

It’s potent enough that I’m surprised my clothes aren’t singed.

“I…hate you.” My words are hazy.

His heavy hands land on my ass, sliding beneath the hem of the sweatpants and pawing at me over my underwear.

“From you, I’ll take that as a compliment.” His voice is low and husky just before he bites into my neck.

My eyelids flutter shut. That feels amazing.

No, no, no, no. This is exactly how he got me the last time, except…

Darren’s completely different tonight.

His kiss is searching and raw. Nonspecific. Chaotic.

The first time he kissed me, his intentions were clear.

I was a faceless whore. He wanted to dismantle me, and he did it. But this time, he’s aimless, guiding us both as we wander into this sensual wonderland as if for the first time all over again.

I wait for the dirty talk, but he uses his mouth in other ways, sucking my lips between his, biting them while his fingertips fondle my ass. Any second now, I expect him to spin me around to face the wall, where he’ll rail me the same way he did on that balcony, but the moment never comes.

Instead, he draws the t-shirt over my head and kneads my breasts together. His mouth is hot and open against me, his grip on my chest firm but adulating. Reverent, almost…

Gone is the rough, dispassionate dominant male routine that broke me down to a whimpering, spasming mess. The man who cradles my fate in the palms of his dangerous hands now seems worlds away from the one I manipulated that night.

When Darren’s done worshipping my breasts, he skates his hands over my hips until he reaches my thighs. Then, in one fluid motion, he hoists both my legs around his waist.

“Hold on to me.” His low voice is rough and full with need.

Once again, my body obeys without my permission, my arms fastening around the column of his neck as my ankles lock around his waist.

Darren spreads his arms wide across the wall, pinning me with all his weight. Our mouths stitch together in an unceasing kiss that’s got me so dizzy, the oxygen loss might damage my already frazzled brain.

As he leans against me, his need becomes evident. His steely erection presses into the seam of my cotton sweats. My hips tilt and rock against him involuntarily, and we both moan in unison.

Darren growls and grinds his cock against me, generating bursts of pleasure even through the fabric. I keep gasping against his open mouth.

The friction we’re creating, just from the sensation of our bare torsos plastered together, is enough to steam up these barred windows. I’m sure of it.

I don’t know how long we stay against the wall, mouths devouring each other while we grind our bodies together. After I’ve been moaning for what seems like an hour, he spins us away from the wall and closes the distance to the bed in three quick strides.

He deposits me on the mattress and strips off my sweatpants and panties in one controlled action. He removes his pants and underwear as I sprawl out on my back and stare up at him. When he stands nude at the edge of the bed, I find his dick hard and ready.

My heart stutters into a dead sprint as Darren inspects me in the dark. The loss of body contact for the first time in minutes fills me with a sense of loss and floods my blood with tingly, desperate need.

Badly. Terribly. Desperately. That’s how much I want him.

On top of me. All over me. Inside me.

The impulses and desires battle inside me while I lie paralyzed under his lustful, evaluative gaze.

Darren considers me for such a long moment—probably having some important conversation with his sanity, the way I should be—that cold fear starts to crop up in my chest. What if he leaves me here like this—hot, bothered, and unsatisfied?

I don’t even want to imagine it. Just the idea of that kind of disappointment is crushing.

“What?” I murmur into this awful silence, unable to take the suspense.

Darren rakes a rough hand through his hair. “No matter how I think about it, I need to taste you.”

He climbs onto the bed with all imaginable speed, his hands finding the underside of my knees. Darren pulls until my legs are spread wide and bent before him. Immediately, I’m overwhelmed by a painful desire for his dick to fill me, but he has other ideas.

His hands glide down my thighs and lift my ass, my spread legs mere inches below his sexy mouth.

I’ve never been more thankful for darkness. God only knows my expression when Darren buries his face in my pussy and begins to lick me up and down.

“Oh, oh my god…” I cry out. One of his big hands covers my left breast while the other squeezes my thigh.

Darren teases me, circling my clit and then retreating. When he sucks on the aching flesh, he pulls a deranged moan from my mouth. My thighs start to shake.

I’m hot, sweaty, hazy, and halfway in a trance as delicious pleasure pools in my core. It’s like he’s pumping me full of sugar with every deft stroke of his tongue.

“Bozhe moy,” I whimper as he dunks his tongue again and again.

And then he slips one of his long fingers through my entrance, and I see stars. The tension inside me explodes, hurtling me over the edge as I ride out one of the strongest orgasms I’ve ever experienced.

By the time he releases me, I’m shivering, feverish, and more than a little brain-dead. And he hasn’t even put his dick inside me yet. Someone send help…

Darren climbs over my body and shoves his hot mouth to my ear, triggering yet another tremor. “You taste amazing…” The heat of his breath on my sensitive lobe is enough to curl my toes.

My arms wind around his hard back and squeeze him to me. I can’t even speak. I’m still trying to catch my breath.

I’m hoping he can tell what I want just from the way I’m embracing him.

When his cock starts sliding through the slick mess he’s made of my pussy, I know he does. The sensation is even more amazing now that he’s tenderized my body with his tongue, but I can’t take much more.

Which is terrible because I want more. A lot more.

Embarrassed by my desire for him and this deafening, cataclysmic yearning thundering through me, I bite his neck. His impressive body ripples against mine as he growls in my ear.

“Just do it already,” I whine against his skin. One of his hands crawls up the back of my skull, and the other clamps onto my waist. “I need to feel you inside me.”

“Veronika…”

We both groan when he threads his thick cock into my body.

And like this—him cradling my head that’s bent into the curve of his neck while my fingertips dig into the flesh of his back—he thrusts himself in and out of my body with heavy, rhythmic strokes.

He clings to me with a groan, and I lose myself so completely in this heat that I start moaning and mumbling nonsense in Russian. Before long, I forget everything, even my own name.

Somewhere inside, I’m still waiting for him to dominate me.

To degrade me like he did the first time.

I’m longing for the simplicity of our nameless acquaintanceship, when I was just a random slut to him. When touching each other had no emotional charge whatsoever. That was way easier than this.

This is dangerously close to…making love.

I’ve never made love to anyone before, and I’ve certainly never been made love to. It terrifies me that after tonight, I won’t be able to claim that anymore.

Darren’s pounding me, but the tempo and vibe aren’t merciless this time. Instead…the tenderness I glimpsed downstairs is in this room with us. Whatever’s happening right now involves more than just lust, and that’s a very, very bad thing.

And the way he moans my name…right in my ear…

The intensity draws tears to my eyes.

“You’re going to make me come again…” I rake my nails down his back. His body arches against my touch as a deep, satisfied sound rumbles up in his throat.

“Took the words right out of my mouth.” With his palm, he holds the back of my head and slaps his waist against mine in quick, rapid succession.

The pleasure buildup in my core is nothing short of death-defying.

Darren’s going to destroy me this way. I know it.

His cock slams in to the hilt, and all at once, the tension in my muscles releases in one huge convulsion. I cry out, loud as a thunderclap, shaking and bucking beneath Darren’s body as he jams his cock in without slowing down. “Yeah, baby…come for me.”

My eyes clamp shut, thrusting me into total darkness as sensations tear me apart from the inside out.

And then he groans, low, rough, and forceful, while dropping his waist hard against mine.

He shudders and floods me with a sudden burst of warmth.

Darren rolls his hips a few more times, his gorgeous body twitching as my pussy drains the last of his load right out of him.

Panting and tangled together, we lie in this heated silence for several minutes, and the intimacy of it is…awful.

Super gross.

The way I want to fall asleep with him, with his cock still lodged inside me…

His hot, heavy breaths on my shoulder. His weight anchoring me to this mattress and this moment. The bone-deep satisfaction of his semen inside me.

These thoughts, emotions, and sensations are foreign to me.

This is the most frightened I’ve ever been.

Not just because I’m afraid of him, but because I’m scared of myself.

I don’t recognize this person I’ve become. Not this woman who dissolves and loses herself at the touch of this man’s hand. Distressed tears silently pass my temples and disappear into my hairline.

All the restraint and self-control I’ve carefully cultivated over the years…gone.

I’m undone. I can’t do this. Darren’s broken something inside me, and I don’t know how or if I’ll survive long enough to put it back together again.

After an eternity, Darren lifts himself off me.

My body is immediately cold, craving his warmth and the ecstasy of his skin on mine.

But, wordlessly, he detangles himself, and I let him, praying he can’t see the tracks of my tears in the dark.

Holding my breath, I wait as he climbs off the bed, dresses himself with slow, deliberate movements, and glides to the door.

As soon as the door is back in its frame with Darren on the other side, the dead bolt chinks. I’m locked in again.

This is the moment I allow myself to cry, really cry, for the first time in years. I burrow into the bedsheets stained with the scent of him as sorrow, anguish, and sex-fueled exhaustion drag me under the surface of consciousness.

I fall into a fitful sleep for a couple of hours. When my eyelids peel open again, my head pounds like a snare drum. It’s still pitch black outside.

Even after the short rest, I’m shaken and reeling from how much pleasure that horrible man gave me.

But my mind has never been so clear.

I’ve got to get out.

Before Darren kills me or what’s left of my resolve.

Once I sit up, I glimpse my salvation across the room.

Dragging my sore, still pulsating body out of bed and over to the dresser, I grab the laptop Darren forgot to take with him.

When I log into my cloud account, I discover that my decryption is complete.

After much struggle, I’m finally through the Irish Kings’ security shields.

I just wish one of the Kings hadn’t gotten through me.