The Only Choice (The Choices Trilogy #3) (20 page)

“You.” My words are stolen from my lips with the force of his unyielding mouth. He pulls me roughly against his rock solid frame exerting enough pressure in his fingertips to mark me and I tremble with the pleasure this thought alone evokes but I want more. He sucks, pulls and bites my now swollen lips. His tongue dances and plunges, urgent and demanding, fierce, possessive and I love it. I return his passion and grip him just as tightly. He pinches his fingers into my hair and pulls me back breaking our connection, I gasp for breath. His eyes are feral but his grin is deliciously wicked.

“Good answer.” He stoops and sweeps me up high on to his shoulder. His hard muscle and bone winding me as I fold over, dangling and hopelessly trying to steady myself with fistfuls of his clothing. His loud slap on my arse echo’s in the sparsely furnished hallway and I would be surprised if there wasn’t a person in the building that didn’t hear the noise closely followed by my surprised yelp.

He kicks my bedroom door open and slams it shut with such force the lock rattles and a sharp crack of wood fracturing is heard but with surprising restraint he bends and plops me gently on to my bed. I fall back onto my elbows, my knees slightly bend and my legs tremble as I hold the semi closed position fighting my wanton need to spread before him. He stands motionless but his eyes move slowly from my toes up my body, scorching with the blatant desire and my skin reacts in his wake as if teased by his feather light kisses, sensual and seductive. I wonder if I will ever cease to be shocked by his ability to draw such violent erotic reactions with barely a single touch. He slips his jacket from his shoulders and carefully folds and places it on the corner my bed and with a deliberate measured pace he starts to un button his shirt, with each pop I feel my heart beat jump a little faster, my panting breath a little sharper and a little more moisture pools inside.

“Still need a little space?” His voice is deep, his tone is light but I can see the seriousness of his words in his slightly narrowed eyes. I shake my head. We still have a heap of shit to deal with but one thing I am certain of, at least at this moment, is I do
not
want a little space. I want no space, I want negative space. “Answer the question Bethany?” His dominant growl causes a delicious shiver to flash across my skin.

“No Sir.” I swallow and lick my dry lips, my voice is a raspy whisper. His shirt is open and he has unclipped his belt so his suit trousers have dropped to hang low, revealing the dusting of dark hair that gathers to from a slightly darker line of hair dipping below his belt. My eyes are fixed on his hovering hand, just at his zip which is curved with the bulge of his straining erection. His light chuckle makes me break my hypnotic gaze and meet his heated stare.

“I’m going to make you beg.” He starts to draw the zip down and a small whimper escapes into my throat.

I laugh to try and hide some of my desperation. “And I thought you liked a challenge.” He raises a curious brow. “Because that really isn’t going to take long.” Before he can make another move I sink back onto the bed and sigh, shamelessly pleading. “Please, please Daniel, please Sir, please, please fuck me.” My knees straighten and I drop my hand to rest on top of my panties with my middle finger just tucked under the elastic. I hear his groan and sneak a look to see him shed the last of his clothes. This is different, it is usually me naked whilst he is fully clothed. But he looks far from vulnerable, he looks potent, hungry and indecent or maybe I’m projecting. He kneels at the end of the bed, my toes touching his skin. This first skin on skin is all I can feel, this contact is the source of a wave of pure heat that ripples then spreads like a wildfire through my body.

“Oh baby, that’s not begging.” His gruff voice and veiled threat is like a touch-paper to my incendiary desire. “Spread.”

I hear his deep throaty groan as I spread my legs wide and he hears my higher pitched cry when he places his firm hands on the inside of my thighs, his fingertips pressing the crease where my thigh meets my most sensitive skin. His touch feels hot and solid and he presses the heel of his hands hard pushing me wider, holding the tension as my muscles rebel against the pressure. I squeeze my eyes shut absorbing the sensory overload, pain of muscles stretched to unbearable tension, sensitive folds spread wide, open, vulnerable, cooled with exposure and heated with his breath. So intimate and so fucking sexy I know I am going to shatter as soon as he touches me, however he decides to touch me. His dominant mode is unmistakeable. I decide to play it safe, I am in no state to endure his blend of sweet torture and I am not stupid enough to test his endurance. I would break in half before he would even break sweat.

“Please Daniel may I come?” My voice is shaky and I curse that my body is so fucking sensitive and more so, that I can’t tell him why. He looks up with a curious expression and I shrug as if I am just as curious.

“Really?” His surprise is genuine, mine is more resigned.

“Really, I’m sorry but really, please may I come?” I can feel my face flash with colour and I am glad that my body has the grace to be embarrassed at how easy I am. He laughs and his breath blasts my core and causes me to jump his fingers grip in reflex, holding me immobile.

“Interesting . . . but no need to apologise. I will try and not let it go to my head.” He quips but I laugh at his lame pun. “And since you remembered to ask, you may come. But don’t get used to having your own way baby because the rest of the night is mine.” He disappears low and I feel the electric pulse of his sweeping tongue as he drags it steadily along my folds and purses his lips over my core and sucks, deep and swirling pressure. My hips dig into the mattress and my back arches off the bed so far I am sure it is a perfect semi-circle. My fingers grip the sheet and my head is pressed into the pillow, all in instant, all shocking violent reactions to this cresting onslaught of pleasure. He holds me as my body shakes, shudders and falls, spiralling and riding wave after convulsive wave of exquisite erotic indulgence.

“Fuck Bethany you are amazing, you taste amazing,
you
are so fucking amazing.” He pitches up and puts his arms either side of my torso leaning on his elbows so he is only barely above me. His heat almost as intense as his perfect blue eyes.

I let out a deep satisfied sigh and snicker. “Having trouble with your adjectives Mr Stone.” I tilt my head and look around my room. “I know I’ve got a thesaurus somewhere, arghhh!” I squeal and wriggle as his fingers dart to my side below my ribs and dig and wiggle, ultimate torture.

“No.” His lips are a hairs breadth from mine, his serious eyes penetrate and he stills, holding me secure. “My tongue has just been better employed fulfilling pleasure rather than forming eloquent words that would still fail to describe you or what you are to me.” His smile is breath-taking and he looks rightly smug; his words far exceed any compliment, they are flawless. I tense my tummy muscle and pull myself to meet his lips but he smiles wide and shakes his head. “Ah ah Miss Thorne. Since you offer no challenge where begging is concerned let’s see how long before you are screaming for me to stop.” He grazes his teeth along the shell of my ear and down my neck before his sinks harder into the soft flesh. I let out a sharp cry of pain and a shiver of luxurious bliss that only comes with acceptance, I am his. His to torture, tease and tame, his to make beg, scream and his to mark. It’s hedonism, it’s heaven, it’s hell and I want it all.

If I ever doubted he was a man of his word, it was proven irrefutable that late afternoon and early evening. He played my body like an artist bringing me to levels of heightened ecstasy I hadn’t the imagination to even dream. Every millimetre of my skin was stroked and teased, delighted and dazed I fell again and again, insatiable at first, demanding and needy morphed into docile assent as utter exhaustion crept into my muscles and bones. He moved inside me with brutal passion and tender adoration in equal measure holding back his own release until my muscles finally gave up there tentative hold of my bones and I sank limp but managed to mouth out the words, my begging words to stop. Our bodies once slick with heated sweat had cooled with his measured strokes but warmed again after my plea, he picked up his pace once more and with a few final deep thrusts and a unexpected change in angle and grind he threw his head back and growled as I join him in what I pray is the end of this marathon session.

I don’t remember how he took my dress off. I do remember him tearing my panties down my legs and I am grateful I am naked now as I relish the feel of his sticky skin against mine. Our legs are entwined and his strong arms hold me flush against him. I would be holding him too if my muscles were responding to my brain but they are not. I would’ve have offered to fix a drink or run a bath, but nada, a jelly fish has more rigidity than I do. My body is useless and my mind isn’t much better; a mush of climax inspired euphoria, mixing with the inevitable dampening doses of reality and fucked up visions of my future. I reflectively squeeze him as he shifts to move because I don’t want to lose this feeling, because right now I feel perfect, we feel right and I feel safe. So just for one more moment please don’t move. Somehow sensing my silent plea he relaxes back pulling me tighter and kissing my hair. I let out a shamelessly satisfied sigh and he laughs.

“How are you feeling?” His voice is deep but he sounds sleepy, to be fair I am impressed he can speak at all. I know I will have to communicate in a series of grunts and sighs. I repeat my satisfied sigh followed but an equally gratified moan, muscles not quite responding to my desire to stretch. He chuckles, “Good to know.” His sigh sounds like mine. I hear his phone ring again, it was what caused him to move last time but this time his shift is more determined and he slides from under me. “Looks like someone’s keen to test my temper.” He picks up his trousers and fishes his phone from the pocket. He frowns but only briefly, he swipes to take the call .He strides out of the bedroom without glancing my way but not before I hear him say Angel’s name in a soft tone that makes me so fucking jealous I forget it’s his release currently running down my leg.

The bedroom is dark and I have closed my eyes but moments before sleep steels me a painful bright light assaults my lids and I pinch them tighter. This isn’t the light from a doorway. Daniel has switched the main light on and I can hear him picking up his clothes and treading with deliberate heavy steps. I roll onto my side and wince at the stiffness of my muscles and soreness of everything else. Blinking to adjust to the harsh light I shield my eyes with my hand and try to focus on the movement at the end of the bed. He has his back turned and he already has his trousers and shirt on. He is bent over slipping into his shoes and I can see his jaw is clenched but even if I couldn’t I can feel the tension.

“Daniel? What is it?” I am more awake now and carefully pull myself up to sit against the headboard. I tuck the sheet under my chin, a flimsy barrier but one I clutch when he turns to face me his face dark with fury and rage. “Shit Daniel what is it?” I want to ask what’s happened with Angel but I don’t want to know anything about her poison and she is poison.

“I’m so fucking angry I can’t even look at you!” He grates and snaps his head away from me. He reaches to grab his jacket. I quickly scramble to the end of the bed and hold his wrist before he pulls away. He looks with disgust at my hand and I feel like I have somehow infected him and let go.

My voice is quiet and he won’t meet my eyes. “Daniel what is it? What have I done?”

“You have no fucking right! My decisions. My choice. My life. It has nothing to do with you!” He spits these words like daggers and they slice straight through my soft flesh, leaving chunks where my heart should be. He lets out a heavy sigh. Someone has clearly just informed him not only where I have been this afternoon but also the content of the meeting.

“‘Nothing to do with me’? Am I hearing that right? ‘Your life, your choices’ and that has nothing to do with me?” He shakes his head and I know he is fighting to rein in his temper, he is clearly not a fan of
my
stalker talents. “I’m just trying to get some answers for you.” I don’t want a screaming match and to go over and over the same shit. He knows all my arguments but blindly refuses to acknowledge any part of them.

“No Bethany, I don’t need answers. I need you to stop. Stop this now and I would appreciate your pathetic attempts at playing detective to stop before you hurt anyone else.” Since he doesn’t look hurt he just looks pissed I can only assume he is referring to Angel. I doubt she’s hurt but she will be delighted that I have just royally fucked up. I don’t know how to get him to understand.

“I’m sorry you find my attempts to secure our future pathetic but since you don’t seem to give a shit I thought one of us should try, but you are right, I don’t want anyone getting hurt. I’ll do anything to prevent that.” I try to keep my voice calm and not reflect the building despair I feel inside. His shoulders relax and he runs his hand softly over my cheek.

“This has nothing to do with you baby, you have to leave it to me. I don’t want you getting hurt.” His face is impassive but his eyes hold something and I can’t tell if its sadness or regret but for the first time his words give me a little encouragement. I know his primary concern is me but he just said that I should leave
it
to him. Maybe he is already investigating my suspicions, he certainly looked troubled and pensive enough when I first talked about the future of Angels child.

“You’ll look into it?” I can’t hide my hopeful tone but it’s misplaced. His cold eyes shut down and his jaw locks frozen.

“There is nothing to look into. Now fucking drop it. I mean it Bethany . . . you need to drop this.” He snaps and I recoil with the understanding of his words. He turns and walks, out of my bedroom and out of my flat.

I throw myself hard back on to the bed with pure frustration. I can’t let this go when I know she’s lying but will I lose him in the process? The thought alone is enough to crack my heart in a million pieces. If I do nothing she will undoubtedly work her way back into his life one way or another, because she is determined and desperate. She may be calculating and cruel wielding guilt like she does but that is irrelevant if Daniel can’t see it and more over he has told me explicitly to stop. If I manage to get proof, how do I give it to him in a way that won’t break us? Honestly, even if that is the case I would rather he was with someone else than trapped by her. There is always the slightest chance that he would be so grateful of his narrow escape that he would forget my deception and forgive my interference. I have to hope for the possibility that he will forgive me. My head is spinning with unknown outcomes and broken hearted scenarios but one thing is crystal clear, I still have to get proof. I pick up my phone and scroll through my recently dialled numbers.