The Marriage Merger (17 page)

Her brain blessedly blank, Julietta struggled to open her lids.

Sawyer stared down at her.

The angry scar on his face only emphasized the clas-sic grace of his features. The high brow and defined cheek-bones. The lush curve of lip and strong jaw. The amber heat of his eyes. He loomed over her, poised at her threshold, her legs held high in the air and close to his shoulders. Suddenly, her vulnerable position and what they were about to do snapped her back to reality.

His massive erection pulsed and threatened an invasion she couldn’t handle.
Mio Dio,
she was still bound. Helpless.

Julietta tugged at her cuffs and fought for breath. Panic hit.

“easy, baby.” He kissed her, long and sweet. “you are magnificent. I have never seen anyone as beautiful as you during an orgasm.” His face lit with an inner light that fascinated her. “you give everything without a thought to hold-ing back. Such a rare gift. And I will cherish it for my whole life.”

His words soothed the holes in her soul and healed something she never realized was broken. Her body softened and she stopped fighting. He wouldn’t hurt her. The knowledge pulsed in her gut and echoed in his face, now slightly strained as he kept his position without moving. She swallowed.

“you haven’t won yet.”

A delighted laugh broke from his lips. He kissed her deeper, swirling his tongue around hers and playing a game of thrust and parry. His penis pressed an inch farther.

Wetness trickled down her thighs and an urgent pulsing in her core told her she was ready for another round. Was it possible? Again?

“I will.” His voice changed to an arrogant demand that made her belly plummet. “Let’s up the game, shall we?”

He rocked his hips back and forth as if he had all the time in the world. His features were strained, but he was solidly in control. The sheer command he had over his body and the helplessness of her own position shot fire to her pussy. The sweet ache coiled tighter with the image of that full, thick length buried deep inside of her. How long had it been? Months? More like years. But what if she couldn’t climax again? What if she froze up like she normally did and disappointed both of them? The image hit her full force.

“Boring you again, am I?” Her attention snapped back.

Before she could gather her thoughts, he bent his head and took her nipple into his mouth. Sucking hard on the aching nub, Julietta moaned at the delicious sensations. His cock at her entrance, his heated body pressed to hers, his tongue sliding over her nipple. The sharp scrape of teeth wrung a cry from her lips, then unbelievably, she grew wetter. “Before you drift on me again, let me set the new terms.

I’ll give you two more orgasms because I’m in a generous mood.”

She managed a snort even though she ached for more of his delicious torture. His hand plumped her other breast, readying her. “Impossible. you got lucky with the first.”

“Two more. And you will apologize for all the rotten things you said about me tonight.”

“Never.”

“you will. And I get a marker.”

She fought for breath as he pushed in another aching inch. Her thighs clenched. “you want a marker to write with?”

“No. A marker to be used for later. When I can punish you properly for your impertinence.”

The sexual buzz melted her brain cells. “Punish? you want another night?”

His teeth closed around one tight peak and tugged. She gasped. “yes. I want you another night.” He edged farther into her channel. one more strong push and he’d fill her.

Suddenly, she wanted that feeling of belonging to a man, of invasion and possession, more than her next breath. More than losing. “Now say yes.”

His eyes and voice demanded and refused to accept anything less than all of her.

She grit her teeth. “yes.”

Sawyer slid home.

As he buried his throbbing length between her legs, her body welcomed him like he belonged. Slick with juices, her tightness barely caused a hesitation and the fact of her complete helplessness struck again in full, crystal clear clarity.

He filled every spare inch of her, fighting for space and not allowing her any room to hide. Hands bound over her head, legs open to him, his mouth at her breast, Julietta shook with too many emotions and sensations to process, causing her a temporary sensory overload in vivid neon.

“No, no, no,” she chanted, shaking her head back and forth. She fought to keep him from taking it all, but it was too late. Tears pricked her eyes.

“Julietta, look at me.”

“Please, no, I can’t.”

“you can. Breathe, baby. yes, like that. Another one.

you can take all of me, just let yourself feel. one more slow breath. Trust me.” She clung to his words—calm and strong and sure. The breath entered her lungs and the fear slowly drained away.

Suddenly, as when a movie turns from black-and-white into startling Technicolor, her body sprang to life. The re-striction eased and turned to a delicious friction. He moved in tiny increments, back and forth, eliciting a rush of wetness and gripping arousal. “That’s it, relax and let me take you where we both want to go.” The reminder that her hands were tied and she couldn’t control the pace or angle added to the ratcheting sizzle and burn of anticipation. Her muscles released and he slid even deeper.

Sawyer groaned. “Jesus, you’re tight. So fucking good.”

He grabbed her ankles and lifted them on top of his shoulders. Her spiked heels dug into his hard muscles and a thrill shot through her.

He moved. All the way out in one slick slide. Paused.

Then a slow, delicious glide back, over and over, on his own time and in his own way. Julietta had prepared for the familiar rush to the finish line. Her experiences before this had contained her lover pumping furiously while she tried to force herself to catch up and not disappoint. orgasms were a stress she’d decided to leave behind. But not anymore.

Sawyer didn’t give a crap about time. He played with her breasts with every rotation of his hips, sometimes gentle, sometimes deep and hungry. The erratic rhythms didn’t allow her to anticipate or calculate a response. Suddenly, she craved more—much more. Her clit pounded in demand from the teasing scrape of his cock, and she ground her stilettos into his shoulders while she reached for more. The punishing bite of his teeth and his dirty laugh told her he knew exactly what she wanted and refused to give it to her.

“More,” she moaned.

“No.”

She pulled at her cuffs. His cock sank deeper into her channel until he seemed a permanent part of her. He shifted angle. Paused. And gently bit her nipple.

The flash of pain registered the same time he hit some special spot that made fireworks explode behind her closed lids. She panted. So close. She needed— “Ah, you like that, huh? right here?” He thrust again and an animal noise exploded in the air. Was that her? He chuckled. “yes, that’s the spot. And what if I did this?” He reached between their bodies and pressed down on her swollen clit. Julietta wondered if she could die from sexual tension, so close to release yet kept on the edge for endless minutes. He rubbed lightly, back and forth, keeping his thrusts shallow and sharp, hitting the spot where white-hot heat coiled deep, ready to explode.

“Are you ready for your second orgasm, Julietta?”

Pride and rationality vanished under the raw demand of her body. “yes, please, Sawyer, please.”

“And you’ll give yourself to me for one more night?”

His fingers flicked. She cried out. “yes! yes, anything you want, just please.”

“open your eyes. I want to see your face when you come.”

The words sent her over the cliff as much as his next hard plunge. His fingers and cock worked her faster, in perfect tandem with what she craved, and she flew apart for the second time that night.

The orgasm started from her toes and exploded through every part of her body. Julietta let go, arching under the violent spasms and giving up. Sobs broke from her throat at the excruciating pleasure that went on and on. Sawyer never broke his gaze, taking in every expression and cry as if it belonged to him. When she finally surfaced, she realized he was still buried deep inside her, fully erect.

Half drunk on a hormonal high, Julietta roused herself enough to lift her head off the pillow. “What are you doing?” she slurred.

He pulled out and coaxed another shudder. overly sensi-tized from back-to-back orgasms, she felt the edge of pain and pleasure blur. “We’re not done yet. you owe me one more.”

Her heart rate sped up. She tried to shake her head in a confident manner, but it felt like jelly attached to her neck.

“No, I can’t; I don’t want to.”

A low laugh raked her ears. He reset an easy pace, giving her just enough rubbing motion to interest her in steady, slow peaks. Wetness leaked down her thighs, and she arched again into the biting pleasure. “
Mio Dio,
not again.”

“A deal is a deal, sweet one.” He pressed her legs wider and changed to short, strong strokes that buried him balls deep. Too exhausted to think or move, she could only re-spond to what he commanded, and he brought her right back up to the peak and kept her there. Increasing to a brutal pace, he pounded into her with a primitive energy that turned her on, the damp slapping of their bodies, the sharp scent of arousal, the sweat-slicked slide of skin. Her belly coiled and she burned.

He gently squeezed her clit. “Come for me, baby. Now.”

The command hit her ears the moment her body exploded. With a roar, Sawyer pumped his hips and gripped her tightly, spilling his seed. The raw satisfaction on his face soothed, almost as if he surrendered as deeply to the experience of their lovemaking as she had. The orgasm rushed on, claiming and wracking every inch of her body, until finally he collapsed on top of her.

Completely weak and helpless, Julietta sagged against her restraints. The empty part inside that had been completely filled moments ago suddenly widened into a chasm of emotions and mess. The tears that had previously threatened sprang free, and she turned her head in shame.

Her wrists were freed and Sawyer removed the handcuffs. rubbing her sore muscles, he worked the tension from her hands, fingers, and arms, then dragged her to him.

Tucking her into his chest, he pulled the covers over them and snuggled her into his arms.

“Let me go.” She tried to move away but felt like a new-born colt—all gangly legs and off balance. Julietta battled for her inner strength and fought against his embrace.

“Shh, sweet girl, you’re not going anywhere.” His grip was steel, and his voice and touch were gentle as he stroked her hair, murmuring soft words against her ear. “you’re exhausted and need to rest. I’ve got you.” The warmth of his skin and the comforter cocooned her in security and safety she hadn’t experienced in so long, she didn’t believe it had existed. Maybe just a minute. He smelled so good, and his tender strokes lured a hazy sleep to claim her muscles, dragging her down into the dark. Just one minute. As she eased into sleep, his whisper drifted toward her unconscious.

“What have you done to me?” she whispered.

Then she fell asleep.

Sawyer held her tight in his embrace and studied her face. Sweat matted the hair clinging to her forehead and cheeks. Breath rushed in and out of her swollen lips.

With softly glowing skin and her long lashes gleaming with unshed tears, she reminded him of a sleeping princess wait-ing for her prince. A very well-fucked, satisfied princess.

His cock stirred.

What had happened?

Usually, he was always in complete control during a scene. He locked away his physical needs and concentrated on what his lovers needed from him. He had no problems holding back, no matter how sweetly they begged or ca-joled or promised. He allowed release for both of them on his terms, keeping his emotions secondary.

Not with Julietta. From the moment he touched her, he struggled to remain neutral. Her pleasure stoked his, but never had he craved to dig deeper, looking to strip her both physically and emotionally for his own claim. He never doubted she could orgasm. The idiot men before her de-served to be whipped for the junk they put in her head. No, he knew she needed a man to allow her to surrender and let her body rule that powerful brain. Sawyer had an instinct that she owned the soul of a bedroom submissive, just begging for someone to dominate and take control of her body.

It was the other parts that wrecked him.

The way she gave herself to him during climax. The sweet cries on her lips as she begged him to take her. The trust and bravery for allowing him to restrain her the first night together. The way her body lit up under his and snugly wrapped around his cock as if he belonged between her thighs.

She overshadowed every woman before her. Like a drug, he craved his next hit, though he just spilled his seed moments ago. He ached to take her again and again, bound her to his bed, and keep her there until she admitted that’s where she wanted to be.

He expected a crash of emotion after such intensity. He usually took specific steps to contradict the crash—a blan-ket, a bottle of water, some soothing words and a comfort-ing embrace. But the moment he spotted her tears, and her inner fury at such a weakness, he only longed to hold her close. rock her, kiss away her tears, and keep her with him.

Definitely not his normal reaction.

The delicious scent of coconut and musk and sex hit his nostrils. Under the lure of orgasm, he’d made her agree to another night. Why would he do that? The voice whispered the truth, and icy fear trickled down his spine.

Because he didn’t want to lose her.

Already, after a few hours, he was hooked on Julietta Conte. Fascinated by her honesty and strength and vulner-ability, he only wanted more. of course, it was impossible.

Working together, yes. Perhaps an affair for a limited time with both of them clear on the outcome. Long term?

Never.

The chill deepened. While she’d grown up in a loving household, he’d fought with fists and knives and wits to keep his belly full. His escape from two previous homes after his parents died pegged him as a problem child in the system. especially because of his age—nine was the beginning of the no-touch number. Foster families and parents wanted babies, or toddlers, or even that cute seven-year-old who had a shot at normalcy. eleven was hormones and messiness and smart-ass remarks. He knew the moment he walked into his third foster home it would be different.