Forbidden Lust: 3 (Lust for Life) (5 page)

Her eyes opened when that thought was immediately followed
by the realization that he
had
just ruined her for anyone else in one
overwhelmingly amazing fuck.

“Did you know?” she asked, her free hand traveling over his
shoulder.

His quiet answering grunt could have meant anything.

“Did you know it would be that good if we ever fucked?” she
clarified.

He stirred and planted a lingering kiss on her neck. “I had
a pretty good idea.”

A not-so-small part of her thrilled at his admission.

She turned her head and sighed as he lightly kissed his way
up her throat.

“Is that what you were afraid of?” She had to know.

He lifted his head and looked into her eyes and that part of
her that had still been drifting came screaming back to earth and slammed
solidly into love with him. She shouldn’t have been so damn all right with it
considering the antagonistic nature of their relationship, but there it was in
all of its wonderfully flawed glory.

“That and my own certain mortality,” he answered, letting go
of her fingers to smooth his hand over her hair.

She started to tell him he needed to quit with the Diego
thing, but he kissed her and the words vanished. She could have stayed there
forever, drifting again while he worked his magic on her, kissing her with a
slow but hungry dreaminess.

Eva dug a heel into the mattress and pushed. They both
rolled until he was beneath her. She bit his lip, licked it lightly and
promised, “Oz, the only way you’re dying any time soon is if I fuck you to
death.”

He took her head in his hands and held her face close so she
met his gaze. His nostrils flared in challenge and in a voice that was deep and
rough he said, “Baby, I would love to see you try.”

He was willing to die a thousand miserable, agonizing deaths
for her.

But he’d already known that, hadn’t he?

Oscar sat on the foot of Eva’s bed watching her sleep
soundly despite the bright morning sun coming through the windows—not one of
which were covered by anything heavier than thin bamboo blinds. The light had
woke him up a little while ago, but it didn’t seem to be bothering her at all.

And while he’d been sitting there contemplating his
impending doom and wanting her again with a desperate kind of ache, she was
lying there sprawled diagonally across the bed on her stomach, spectacularly
naked and snoring softly, oblivious.

He needed to go straight to Diego, tell him what had
happened and face whatever wrath his friend was going to heap on him for
touching her.

Oscar’s eyes closed and his hands curled into fists. He
hadn’t just touched her. He’d had his fingers, his tongue, his cock inside her
mouth and her sweet, heavenly little cunt. And the things she’d done to him in
return…

His eyes opened as a shiver ran the length of his spine.

She’d done something to him, changed him, opened the
floodgate when she’d issued that challenge outside the reception hall, and then
again at her parents’ house. All those years he’d managed to keep his feelings
for her reined in and the whole damn thing had fallen to pieces the moment she’d
said those two very small words—prove it.

He’d kept himself in check for one night, but it had just
about killed him.

And he’d really only meant to apologize to Eva for standing
her up when he’d followed her up to the bathroom the day after the wedding.
Then she’d opened the door and looked at him with those green eyes that were
his weakness, and he’d found he didn’t have the strength to resist anymore.

God help him, he wasn’t the least bit sorry about crossing
the threshold and kissing her, and he wasn’t sorry about any of the things he’d
done to her the night before.

Unable to make himself leave her just yet, he slid his hand
over the sole of her foot and she stopped snoring. He lifted it and planted a
kiss on the pad of her big toe, three across the ball of her foot, one more on
the ultra-soft skin of her arch.

She drew in a deep breath and croaked, “That’s disgusting.”

He picked up her other foot and smiled when she didn’t stop
him from giving it the same treatment. “I can see how much you hate it,” he
said quietly, lowering her foot as he shifted onto his knees.

“What time is it?” she asked as he kissed his way up her
calf.

“It’s still early.” He touched his lips to the back of her
knee and ran his hand up the silky skin of her thigh. “One more time and then
I’ll go,” he told her, smoothing his hands over her bottom before he kissed
those brain-scrambling dimples just below the small of her back. She stretched,
arching her back and raising her ass, and groaned.

“All right,” she said with a sigh. “One more time.”

Oscar brushed his nose and mouth over the tip of her
tailbone and slipped the fingers of one hand into the warm, wet folds of her
pussy. He stroked her slowly as he kissed a path up the center of her back,
over the geisha he’d tattooed on her before Jamie had asked him to take her on
as his apprentice.

The piece started with the Japanese woman’s elaborate
hairstyle between Eva’s shoulder blades and ended with her
getas
peeking
out from under the hem of her elaborate kimono, just below Eva’s waist. It was
one of his favorite pieces, and it had taken him six long sessions to finish
it, making sure he got every detail exactly right.

He could remember how she’d sat without so much as a grunt
for hours on end while he’d worked. Since he’d once heard her curse like a
deranged sailor for stubbing her toe, he’d found that something of a miracle.

“God that feels good,” she whispered, eyes still closed.

He kissed her shoulder, sank his teeth into her neck as he
took her hand in his, slicked her fingers with her own wetness and guided it to
his cock. She twisted her hand around him and he exhaled sharply through
another spine-tingling shudder.

“You get so hard, Oscar,” she said, her tone reverent.

He slid his hand between the mattress and her body and found
a tight nipple.

“Only for you.” He’d risen to the occasion every time she’d
wanted to fuck, over and over again throughout the night, and each time he had
become just as hard as the first. She drove him wild, looking at him with that
lusty heat in her beautiful eyes, touching him with her soft hands and
scrambling his thoughts with her mouth.

“Whatever,” she said with a soft laugh, and started to
stroke his cock in earnest.

She tugged on his dick and that was all the encouragement he
needed to get one of the two condoms left on the nightstand. He moved both of
his legs between hers when he had it on, lowered his body and let her guide him
into her from behind.

Oscar pushed inside of her with a groan. She echoed the
sound and the hand she’d been using to hold his cock covered the one he’d put
back to her breast.

“Look how well we get along when we try,” she said, then
laughed her deep, throaty laugh when he gently bit her earlobe.

His self-control was nearly lost. The way she felt, all soft
and hot and pliant beneath him, made him want to confess everything to her. He
wanted to come clean about how he’d been a goner since the day she’d given him
that shell bracelet, that the words she’d spoken as she’d buckled it on his
wrist had stolen his heart clean out of his chest, never to be seen again.

He needed her to know that he’d spent years hating himself
for it.

With his weight on his elbows and one hand still cradling
her perfect little breast, he began to fuck her in slow strokes. He could feel
the slight arch of her back as she brought her ass up to meet him. Her eyes
were closed and her mouth open, her face turned halfway into the mattress. The
flushed color on her cheeks was gorgeous.

He kept his pace steady, sliding within her tight little
cunt while the electric buzz coursing through his body built steadily but
stayed under control. He kissed her jaw, her neck, her small ear with its
multiple silver hoops along the lobe.

“You feel so good, Eva,” he said, angling his face close to
hers, breathing her breath.

She swallowed hard and said, “
Guh.”

“So much better than a fantasy,” he whispered. “So
beautiful.”

He balanced his weight on one arm, took his hand off her
breast and moved it under her body, between her legs. When he found her clit
she shuddered beneath him and breathed, “H
oh, fah.”

“So un-fucking-believably sexy, aren’t you, honey?”

He quickened his pace as the buzz became more urgent. She
groaned something else he didn’t understand and her entire body started to
tremble when he caught her clit between his first and second fingers and
clamped down lightly.

“Come for me, Eva.”

She got a hard grip on his hair and tried to pull him around
for another over-the-shoulder kiss. He resisted and her eyes opened.

“Please,” he added with a smile and saw the muscle in her
jaw tic defiantly.

The fight never left her, and he fucking loved her for it.

He pumped faster, stroked her clit in small circles and
said, “Pretty please.”

She laughed a breathy little laugh once and her eyes rolled
back into her head as she started to come, her clit pulsing against his fingers
and her cunt squeezing his cock so incredibly tight. When she licked her lips
and whispered his name the buzz racing through his body pooled behind his balls
and then rocketed through his cock as he came too, his voice reduced to ragged
tatters as he called out her name.

He felt her lips touch his and he kissed her, savoring the
taste and feel of her mouth as his body started to come down and his heartbeat
slowed. He moved carefully onto his side and she turned into his arms, clinging
to him, feeding off his mouth, touching him everywhere as she wound her legs
around his.

“You fucker,” she whispered, pushing her fingers through his
hair and brushing it away from his face. Her eyes were wide, almost frightened.

Oscar opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but she
latched on to him again, her body moving restlessly against his as she drew him
deep into her mouth. He got his bottom arm under and around her and held her
close, caught her wandering hand and pinned it to his chest.

“Dammit, Oz,” she whispered against his mouth.

He pulled back far enough he could look into her eyes. “What
did I do this time?”

Her nostrils flared, and then she cracked a smile and
started to laugh. She pulled her hand free and he let her. She brushed her
fingertips over one of his eyebrows, trailed them lightly down the bridge of
his nose and traced the seam of his mouth.

“My God it’s almost painful to look at you,” she said
quietly.

“That hideous?” he asked, straight-faced but secretly
pleased with the notion that she found him as attractive as he found her.

She nodded. “Worse than I remember.”

“Are you saying I should grow back the beard and spare the
public?”

She smiled and nodded again. “If you’re taking requests I
think you should grow back the muttonchop, Fu Manchu combo again.”

That made him laugh. He’d been Lemmy Kilmister from
Motörhead for Halloween a couple of years ago. Eva had teased him so much about
the way he’d shaved his beard that he’d worn it that way for another three
months just to torture her. He’d never told her, and never would, but that
beard had gotten him a whole lot of laid that winter.

“All right,” he said. “But just remember you asked for it.”

Then she was kissing him again. A chill of a different kind
tickled its way up his back. When she released him he brushed his fingertips
over her cheekbone, her jaw.

“We’re going to have to tell your family about this.”

She groaned and turned her face into his shoulder. “No.”

“Eva, they’ve been my family since I was five. We have to
tell them.”

“No,” she repeated, then looked at him. “Our sex life isn’t
any of their business.”

His eyebrows went up. “
We
have a sex life?”

She matched his expression. “Are
you
going to be able
to go back to the way things were after last night?”

No he wasn’t. “Which is exactly why we need to tell them.”

“Damn it all to fucking hell.” She rolled out of his arms
and sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on her knees and her head in her hands.

He lay there watching her take in deep breaths for a minute
before he got up and sat beside her.

“I don’t want them to make a big deal out of this,” she said
quietly.

Her eyes were so big and so unsure when she sat up and
looked at him.

“I can’t keep this from Diego.” He smoothed his hand over
her back. “He’s going to kill me as it is. If he finds out later I kept this
from him he’s going to make my death slow and very painful.”

She rolled her eyes and looked away. “Diego is all bluster.”

Oscar’s mind instantly recalled fights he’d either witnessed
or been part of in many a schoolyard, nightclub or corner bar parking lot
throughout the years. Diego fought until there was only one man standing, and
Oscar could count on one hand how many times his friend had not been that man.

She got up and paced across the room.

“They’re going to fuck it up when they find out.” She picked
up the shorts she’d been wearing the night before and pulled them on. “Diego is
going to make a huge deal out of this. Steve and Andre are going to get all
testosterone-y because Diego will.” Her t-shirt went over her head and then
those pretty tits of hers were out of sight. “Then my mother is going to start
planning our fucking wedding.”

Oscar picked up his jeans, pulled them on and zipped them.
He caught her the next time she paced within arm’s length of him and pulled her
close.

“I won’t tell them right away,” he told her, his gut sinking
and his head screaming it was the wrong thing to promise her.

She reached around his neck and pulled his cross and St.
Christopher medal to the front of the chains they hung from. “You and your
talismans,” she said with a small smile as she untangled them for him.

The silver cross had been his mother’s. The St. Christopher
medal had been a gift from Eva’s mother before he’d set off for California a
few years ago. At the time he’d still been stubbornly driving that rusty
orange-and-white Bronco he’d loved so much, and she’d given it to him to keep
him safe on the trip. The Bronco had indeed gotten him all the way to the West
Coast, and then it had promptly died once and for all.

“Why do you still wear the shell bracelet?” she asked as she
looked up. “It’s silly.”

And just like that he was transported back to that day. He’d
been lying on a lounge chair, alone on the patio by the pool in her parents’
backyard, quietly enjoying the end of the buzz from a long day of beer,
barbeque and family. Eva, still wearing nothing but the little black bikini
she’d been in all afternoon, had sat on the side of the lounge by his hip and
told him she had something for him.

In the present she lifted his arm and straightened the
bracelet so the small buckle that held it closed was on the inside of his
wrist.

“Do you remember what you said when you gave it to me?”

She made a derisive sound and blushed. “What? You mean the
virginity thing that you
oh
so thoughtfully threw back in my face the
other night?”

He smiled. “No, you told me you got it for me so my parents
could always be close to the beach,” he reminded her, his throat getting tight
with the memory.

The leather lace he wore had once been tied around love
letters his father had sent to his mother from France. Oscar kept the letters
in a protective box in the safe in his house, but he wore the lace wrapped
several times around his wrist, the ends fastened securely with a single rivet.
It was loose enough he could wiggle it off before he showered, but it and the
shell bracelet went right back on once he was dry.