Scandalous Heroes Box Set (31 page)

Her mouth was warm as it slid over the head of his shaft. She ran her tongue along the rim before slipping farther onto him, bringing him deeper into her. His blood pounded as she worked up and down his length. Her fingers fisted below her mouth to continue applying pressure on him. With her other hand, she began to caress and knead his balls.

Lightning spiked in him, and he locked his legs to keep upright. Adjusting his head, he peered down at the woman on her knees before him. Her eyes closed she had a look of contentment and desire on her face. As if she’d sensed his gaze upon her, she looked at him.

Hunger, raw and powerful, poured from her brown orbs to engulf him in their fire. He reached for her, dug his fingers into her thick wet hair, and began thrusting his hips.

She relinquished control to him. Both of her hands repositioned to hold his thighs, and he could feel the soft bite of her nails in the back of his legs. The suction, her heat, her wetness, all of it combined to hurtle him closer to the edge. His balls tightened, and he knew he couldn’t last much longer. His hips powered faster, and he stared at her. Water from the showerheads cascaded around her. Her dark nipples were peaked and taut. Between her slightly spread legs, he could see the black hair which hid her heated core.

She drew harder, and her fingers dug in to his flesh more. Close, so close. He began to pull back, only to stop when a low rumble escaped her. She kept him there, and unable to withstand the torture any longer, Reeve erupted in her mouth.  Affrica didn’t release him until she had gotten everything from him.

The second her mouth freed him, he dragged her up, spun them so her back was against one wall, lifted and lowered her so she was impaled on his rock hard shaft.

“Oh,” she sighed, lids fluttering.

He powered home into her with deep, barely controlled thrusts. Her lids lowered, hiding her eyes. Straight white teeth captured her lower lip as she undulated with him.

“Look at me,” he growled.

Hazy eyes met his demand, and he slammed his mouth over hers, his tongue moving with the same furious pace as his hips. When he tore his mouth away, her hands were anchored on his shoulders, her eyes closed, and a language he didn’t speak poured from her mouth. This, this was what he wanted. Her so far gone, she forgot to speak in English. Her throaty speech heightening his own pleasure.

Without slowing, he reached between them and flicked his thumb over her clit, and she screamed as her body arched closer to his. The power of her orgasm, the feel of her velvet walls milking his cock, and the fact it was Affrica, a woman he’d been dreaming and obsessing over for months, sent him right after her. And, for the first time in years, he released himself inside a woman without thought or care of protection.

Spent and exhausted, he slowly lowered them to the floor of the shower, his cock still deep inside her. Affrica lowered her head and buried it against the side of his neck, her breathing still coming fast and sharp. Eventually, she pushed up so he could see her gaze.

“Well now,” she said with a grin. “That ‘tis a lovely way for a person to begin their day.”

His cock twitched inside her as her accent, still heavy and thick, flowed over him. He trailed his hands up her arms, over her shoulders, and down to her breasts.

“Then, stay, wake this way again tomorrow.”

She shifted on him, and he had to bite back his groan. This woman was going to be the death of him. Leaning closer until their foreheads touched, she sighed.

“Ya know, times like this ya’re a nice enough man, Reeve Leighton. Unfortunately, I canna stay. I’ve work ta do.” She brushed her lips over his lightly. “But I do thank ya for a wonderful night and morning.”

He halted her from getting off his lap, gripping her shoulders and flexing up into her. Her gaze smoldered, and she flashed him an impish grin.

“One for the road,” she whispered as she began to ride him.

Two hours later, he walked her to the door of the train station, carrying her bag for her. He observed her from his periphery. Face scrubbed fresh and clean, she wore no makeup. Her thick wavy hair had been drawn back into a ponytail and moved with every step she took.

She wore more of her typical fare. Drab olive cargo pants and a black ribbed t-shirt. A far cry from Dolce and Gabbana but, damn, if it didn’t look better in his mind. Hell, he’d spent so long surrounded by women who would panic if they so much as got a hint of dirt on their attire, he’d forgotten what a real woman was like. And Affrica O’Shea was all he’d been looking for.

He forgot what it was like to do something not in a loud club or in a fast car. But he knew Affrica loved the outdoors, and he wanted to enjoy it with her. Her nails were short and unpolished, hands which were capable of shooting him to ecstasy or wielding a camera which took amazing shots.

She had three piercings on each ear, and as he stared at her, he took in the silver earrings which she wore. He noticed the Celtic cross highest up then came a vivid blue heart, and the last one dangled but he couldn’t make it out. Stepping closer to her as he held the door for her, he brushed his lips along the collar of her shirt.

“What’s this?” he asked. His hip held the door while he touched the lobe of her ear with one hand.

“My earring?” She pursed her lips for a brief moment. “Ah, that’s the tree of life. Aidrian gave them to me.”

Her breath caught, and he could sense her sadness. She never told him what had her so concerned, and so, he did his best to ignore it for the time being.

“Tree of life?”

“Aye. The trunk symbolizes strength. The branches stretch and hunt for learning and knowledge. Our ancient Celtic heritage is represented by the roots. And, if you look closely, ya can also see a trinity knot within it.”

Leaning closer, he gazed at it and sure enough, he could see the knot, right in the center of the tree. He inhaled deeply and smiled as he caught the scent of her as it intermingled with his much more masculine soap. Truth be told, he liked his scent on her. Sure, it may be possessive and caveman-like but he didn’t give a damn.

He hung back as she got her ticket and watched as she strolled through the station to take a seat beside him.

“Ya know ya can leave. I’m capable of getting on a train by mahself. It’s boarding soon.”

Ignoring her, he draped an arm along the back of her chair. “Humor me.”

She didn’t decline nor did she move away, and he allowed himself a small smile of victory. He knew she was warming to him.

You’re not being an ass,
his mind pointed out.

True. He wasn’t. He actually enjoyed spending time with her. Hell, even this morning while he watched her sleep, he’d discovered he was at peace. Normally, if a woman was sleeping in his bed, he itched for them to wake and get out. Sometimes, he would wake them and tell them to leave. He’d ignore their pouting and whining about wanting to stay, shoving them out the door so he could sleep in his bed. He’d always been protective of his sleeping place, but with Affrica, he wanted to keep her there.

“Watch mah stuff for me,” she said before shrugging away from him and walking toward the restrooms.

He hefted her bag and placed it in the seat she’d just vacated all without taking his gaze from the naturally seductive sway of her olive-covered ass. A view he completely enjoyed right up until a pair of long tanned legs blocked his view.

Brows converging in irritation, he lowered his gaze and started at the feet. Fuchsia and black stiletto heels showed off a matching pink nail color on the toes. Up he travelled over the tanning bed colored legs and up to the sequined fuchsia stretched fit mini. An exposed midriff showed off the four diamonds dangling from the belly button. A groan almost slipped free as he passed over a platinum wide neckline razor cutout cropped top and onto the familiar face of Marisol Anderson. With her dark brown hair, vivid green eyes, and creamy skin, she was pretty enough but he’d learned the hard way her insides were much darker than the out.

“What the fuck are you doing at a train station, Marisol?” He glanced at his wristwatch. “Especially at eight in the morning.”

“I was out when I saw your car go by. I wanted to talk to you so I followed.” She smiled. “And here I am.”

Out, my ass. More like you were on your way home from a night on your knees. I need to get rid of her before Affrica comes back.

“We have nothing to discuss. I told you that.”

She stuck her lower lip out in a well-practiced pout. “I already apologized for that minor incident. Forget it; remember how great we were together.”

In truth, he couldn’t recall a damn thing about her. “Not interested.” And that was, in no way, a minor incident.

She smoothed her hands down her sequined skirt and gave him a smile, which in the past would have gotten her just about anything she wanted from him. Now, it merely curdled his stomach.

“Let me refresh your memory.” She sidled closer, her hips swinging with each determined step.

He blew out an exasperated breath, already beyond bored with her attempts. It bothered him a bit she followed him here. Actually, followed him all the way up here. Okay, so it more than bothered him a bit.

“Go home, Marisol, before you embarrass yourself even further.”

Past her, he could see Affrica approaching. Shit! He wanted to stuff this woman in a corner so there was no connection between them. The last thing he needed was Affrica seeing this woman with him. But it was too late, he knew it when she cocked a brow and gave him a sardonic smile.

He curled his hand around her bag and lifted it out to her. Marisol’s eyes widened but she stepped to the side and allowed Affrica to get nearer.

“Thank ya,” Affrica said.

He didn’t let go immediately until she narrowed her eyes slightly.

“Who are you?” Marisol demanded. “What are you doing with her bag?” This time, her words directed at him.

He caught Affrica’s gaze and was shocked to discover amusement lingering there. Reeve had been expecting to see disappointment, anger, anything but what he saw.

“Och, dinna worry, lass, I’m nae a threat to ya. Our brothers work together, and he was kind enough to bring me to the train station this morning to catch mah ride.”

He had to bite his tongue to keep his thoughts to himself. His cock throbbed as her accent rolled over him. Damn, all he wanted was to back her up against a wall and pound the hell out of her as she screamed his name.
Just like last night.

Marisol paused in her tirade, fake lashes batting. “So y’all aren’t involved?”

Affrica chuckled and shouldered her bag. He frowned, extremely displeased with the cavalier way she laughed off what they’d shared. One didn’t simply ignore or forget what occurred between them.

“Nae.”

She put her back to Marisol as she faced him. With a mocking glint in her eyes, Affrica gave him a cheeky grin and a thumbs up. It was blatant she was enjoying his discomfort. Shit. Could it get any worse?

Marisol cocked her hip and planted a fist on it. “Good because I’m not about to give him up without a fight.” A derisive sniff. “Especially to you.”

Apparently, things could.

Affrica stiffened, and the flames in her gaze reminded him of when she tore into him outside Godric’s place. It was more than that, though. It wasn’t just Affrica who was upset. Personally, he was fucking pissed by Marisol’s words.

“Watch your tone, Marisol,” he growled, rising from the seat.

Affrica’s emotions smoothed out. “Let it go, Reeve.” She gave a small shake of her head as she rested one hand against his chest. “It’s nae worth it.
She’s
nae worth it.”

He stared down into her large brown eyes and nodded. The small smile she bestowed upon him made him lightheaded for a moment. She patted his torso and stepped back. Past her, Marisol continued to ramble, obviously upset things weren’t going her way, but he only had eyes for Affrica.

“Thanks for everything, Reeve Leighton.”

Before she could walk away from him, he reached out and snagged her wrist. Everything aside from her faded into nothingness. He drew her back close and captured her chin with his free hand so their gazes were locked. Wiping his thumb along her plump lower lip, he leaned in.

“You and I are far from finished, Affrica O’Shea. Far from finished.”

She remained silent for a bit then grinned. “I look forward to it. Goodbye.” Then, she was gone, striding away without any hesitation or final lingering glances over her shoulder.

Only when she vanished from view did he turn his attention to the whining woman tugging on his arm.

“What?” he snapped.

“I thought you said there was nothing between y’all. From the way you were looking at her, I’d say you lied.”

Without speaking, he stared at her and tried his damndest to recall what had drawn him to her. And fell drastically short of accomplishing so. He gazed at her with disdain, understanding his brother’s aversion to her as well.

“Actually, Affrica said that, not me. Furthermore, let me make this perfectly clear, there is no
us
, so you have no say over anything to do with me. Do
not
presume to demand in regards to me ever again.”

He stalked away, acknowledging his fist would have connected to the face were Marisol a man. He’d never hit a woman and so left before he forgot himself.

At his car, he noticed her coming after him, tugging on her way-too-short skirt with each step she took. He climbed in and drove off, leaving before she got to him and her car, which she’d parked beside his.

When did my life get so out of control?

He went home and laid in bed, his face against the pillow Affrica had used, her scent faintly lingering upon the linen. Before he could contemplate his situation much more, his phone rang. With a frustrated groan, he reached for it.

Chapter Seven

Affrica sat across from Mrs. Marshall in her quaint living room. A steaming mug of tea sat untouched before her, matching the white porcelain teapot and cups on the serving tray. Mrs. Irene Marshall was a petite older woman with gray hair back in an immaculate bun.