Secret Sins (10 page)

“Ah, baby, that’s fucking good.” Threading his fingers through her hair, letting her
lips, her sweet tongue, and mouth have their way, Archer luxuriated in the pleasure.
“That tongue’s a fucking wet dream come true.”

Even his fantasies about her hadn’t been this damned good.

Moving those sweet lips over the head of his cock once again, sensation shot through
his system. Pure, fiery, pleasure like nothing he’d known before whipped through him.

Flattening her tongue, she licked and laved that ultrasensitive spot beneath the crest.
Flicking against it, nudging at it, stroking it with hungry heat until he was certain
he was going to go mad with the need to fuck her.

He was losing the ability to withstand the sensations building in his balls and whipping
through his cock. Every muscle in his body was tightened to a point that he felt locked
in place, unable to stop the agonizing pleasure. He was unable to stop it and unable
to give in to it.

To give in to it meant to take far more from her than he knew her innocence was ready
for. Confidence and preparation were two different things. She might be hiding her
innocence well, but he could see it in her eyes. In her actions.

She wanted, and she hungered—and her need for him was possibly as great as his need
for her. But that need couldn’t possibly prepare her for what he wanted from her.

What he needed from her, what he wanted from her, went far beyond what she could possibly
be prepared for.

CHAPTER 5

Archer knew he was reaching the point of no return.

At the first pulsing flex of his cock and the pre-come that spilled onto Anna’s lips,
he knew he was nearing the edge of his control and threatening to fly over it.

A ragged groan tore from him as his fingers tightened in her hair and forced her head
back from the tortured shaft. Staring down at her as she lifted those thick, sooty
lashes, he stared into the pretty green eyes and acknowledged the fact that he was
in way the hell over his head. Where this woman was concerned, he was drowning in
her, and he had no idea why.

Or how to stop it.

All he knew was that he had to have her, and he had to have her soon.

Throwing her to the floor and fucking her into mindless orgasm was his favorite option.
It was the option his body was demanding.

She was pure fucking pleasure, and she was destroying him with the nearing ecstasy
rushing through his body.

She wasn’t just pure pleasure.

She wasn’t just the most incredible sensations he’d ever known with a woman.

She was pure romance, and she was destroying him with it.

She was the ultimate wet dream wrapped in sweeping silk and lush pleasure.

And Archer couldn’t help himself.

She was, and always had been, his weakness. Admitting to that fact hadn’t been easy.
It still wasn’t easy.

Pulling her to her feet, Archer bent to her, one arm going around the back of her
knees, the other behind her shoulders as he swung her into his arms.

The feel of silken arms wrapping around his neck made his groin tighten painfully,
his cock throbbing in pure lust.

“What the hell are you doing to me?”

He didn’t expect an answer. Hell, he didn’t want an answer. There was a part of him
that was terrified to know.

“What can I do to you?” she asked, the breathy sound of her voice slicing at that
last, thin-as-air thread of control he possessed as he mounted the stairs.

“You can destroy me,” he retorted, his jaw so tight it felt ready to splinter as he
carried her, cradling her in his arms, feeling too strong—or did she feel too fragile?

She was fragile.

Of body, of heart, and he knew it.

God help him, he knew it, and still he had no choice but to take what she was offering.
What he had fantasized about for far too long.

Carrying her into his bedroom, careful to kick the door closed in case Oscar should
decide to have one of those jealous tantrums of his, he carried his precious, too-delicate
burden to the bed he’d dreamed of having her in.

Lowering her to her feet beside it, the first thing he did was slide the tiny straps
that held her gown over her breasts over her shoulders. As they slid down her arms,
the embroidered lace fell from her breasts as the weight of yards of silk dragged
it along her body until the gown pooled at her feet.

Oxygen, needed, life-giving, was sucked silently from his body. The sight of her naked
body—perfectly rounded breasts tipped by cotton candy-pink nipples, her gently rounded
stomach, slender, curvy hips, and rounded thighs were like an oasis in a sensually
dry desert.

Between those perfect thighs—

He dragged in air desperately.

Between those prettily rounded thighs the curls had been removed, leaving silken,
bare flesh that shimmered with a layer of sweet, feminine juices.

The sight of the dew-rich flesh again had him willfully controlling his body’s response.
The urgent need to fuck her, to pound inside her and claim her immediately, nearly
overrode the contradictory need to worship her body, to kiss each inch and bind her
to him so elementally that no part of her would ever be free of him.

Just as he sensed the fact that he would never be free of her, either.

“My God,” he said, his hands lifting, cupping the swollen mounds of her breasts as
a whimper of need parted her lips. “Sweet, beautiful Anna.”

She was trembling. Archer could feel the fine shudders shaking her body as his thumbs
found the hardened little buds topping her breasts.

“Perfect breasts,” he whispered. “So pretty, Anna. So damned pretty and sweet that
all I want to do is devour them.”

Her hands lifted, covered his.

The sight of her hand on his, so small and pale against his much darker, much larger
hand, was almost humbling.

What the hell was he doing even considering this? She was so damn small against him,
so delicate that, for a moment, he was terrified of breaking her.

“What are you waiting on, then?” she asked, the edges of her lips turning up in a
siren’s smile.

A second later they parted in a surprised gasp at the feel of his fingers and thumbs
gripping each distended point and applying just enough pressure to ensure her complete
attention.

He wanted every nerve ending, each sense, her entire being completely focused on him.

On him, and all the pleasure he intended to ensure she received.

*   *   *

Staring up at him, Anna felt her heart racing impossibly fast.

It pounded against her chest, each pulse of blood shuddering through her body as his
gaze darkened further and dropped to her breasts.

The calloused flesh of his palms massaged the undersides of her breasts, adding to
the erotic sensations racing through her.

“I’ve dreamed of this,” she said, hoping the weakness in her knees didn’t become worse.

She could barely stand as it was.

“Sweet Anna.” The odd tone of his voice had her holding back anything else she would
have said.

He sounded almost—regretful.

“The things I want to do to you should be considered illegal,” he said, his voice
low, dark. “Hell, it probably
is
illegal in several states.”

“I wouldn’t protest.”

She wanted his touch, needed his touch, as she needed nothing else in her life.

“Wouldn’t you?”

Her lashes lowered, threatening to close as his head moved down, his lips brushing
against hers, teasing them as she fought to hold his gaze, to watch the shifting colors
of his predatory eyes.

“Well, I might not be into pain, if that’s your fetish,” she quipped with a spurt
of amusement. “But, at your hands, I might be willing to try.”

His lips quirked.

She loved that little half smile, the way his eyes gleamed with hidden laughter and
his expression seemed to soften marginally.

“I promise not to hurt you,” he murmured as his lips moved along her jaw. “At least,
no more than necessary.”

Her soft laughter was cut off, the slow relaxation of her body stilled, and tension
took over as his lips moved beneath her jaw.

Sensation rushed through her nerve endings as Anna drew in a harsh breath. Caressing,
gently nipping, his lips and teeth seemed to be making a delicate meal of her flesh,
throwing her into a maelstrom of need with each touch.

“Archer, it’s so good,” she moaned, unable to hold back the moan that filled her words.
“Better than I dreamed.”

And she’d had a damned good imagination when it came to dreaming of this with him.

“It can get better, I promise.”

His kisses moved down her neck, brushed across each breast. Before she had a chance
to catch her breath or vocalize what she was aching for, those diabolically experienced
lips found the tip of her breast.

“Oh, yes,” she moaned as his lips played with her nipple, his tongue licking at it
erotically as she watched, barely able to breathe for the excitement and pleasure
shuddering through her. “I want more,” she all but demanded as her fingers slid into
his hair and clenched in the strands. “Suck it, Archer. Please.”

The tender bud was aching, throbbing to feel his lips and mouth surrounding it. The
need to have the heated interior of his mouth drawing on the peak, sucking at it hungrily,
had her begging for it.

“This is going to tear both our lives apart,” he warned her, but his head was lowering,
his lips hovering over her nipple as he spoke.

“My life has already been torn apart, remember?” And at this moment, she didn’t even
care. All she cared about was having his mouth surround her nipple, close on it, suck
it, give her more of the pleasure tearing through her.

Arching against him, her breath caught as the hard tip pressed against his lips and
felt the damp, moist interior of his hot mouth.

“Fuck!” The exclamation came a second before he gave her exactly what she was begging
for.

His lips surrounded her nipple. Wet heat pierced it and less than a second later he
was suckling it like a man starved for the taste of a woman.

Cupping the gently rounded flesh and pressing it closer to his lips, his teeth rasped
it. Enclosing it once again with his lips, he drew on her nipple, his cheeks hollowing
as male hunger filled the groan that rumbled in his chest.

Sensation flared at the firm contact. A sizzle of electric pleasure that only built
the hunger already burning inside her. Her breathing became harsh, heavy. Her hands
tightened in his hair, her knee bending, lifting to his thigh to press herself closer
to him.

Suddenly the firm suckling stopped, and a second later his lips covered hers again.
Fully. Without warning, he possessed her lips.

If he had any indication of her innocence, he gave no concessions to it. His lips
parted hers with practiced ease, his tongue flicking against them, licking with sensual
hunger as Anna gasped at the pleasure that tore across her nerve endings and began
burning in the pit of her stomach.

She felt eighteen again, desperate for that first kiss, seeing Archer’s face in her
mind as the college boy she was kissing handled her with such rough inexperience that
she’d wanted to kick him.

She’d known he would never kiss like an inexperienced boy. He kissed like a grown
male in his prime and hungry for a woman. His tongue swept against hers, tasted her
as she tasted him.

He’d been drinking coffee. The dark essence of the drink infused his kiss and wrapped
around her senses as he kissed her with dominant demand.

Lowering her to the mattress, his hard body coming over hers, her thighs parting further
for the breadth of his hips, he settled against her, and she moaned in burning need.

This was what she needed. She felt as though she had waited for it all her life. Waited
for this kiss, this man, this touch. She needed it like the air she breathed. Needed
it to the point that her entire body was beginning to ache for it.

Anna found herself gasping for air as his lips moved to her jaw, his rough kisses
moving over it as one hand slid up her thigh.

The rasp of his calloused palm sent shivers of incredible sensation moving through
her. Heat blazed across her clit and through her vagina to tighten her womb with clenching
spasms. As his palm eased up the curve of her hip, then slid to her stomach, she held
her breath, head tipping back as his lips moved to her neck.

Stinging kisses were spread across the arched column as Archer’s hand stroked up her
stomach before cupping the rounded curve of one swollen, touch-hungry breast again.

Sensation lashed at her senses as Anna arched, desperate to press her flesh further
into his hand, to feel him as close, as deep as possible. Raking his thumb over her
nipple, his flesh rasping against the tip, dragged a cry from her. The need to be
closer to him, to feel more, to experience more, was making her crazy.

Heat radiated from her body, perspiration dampening her flesh as her breathing became
more harsh, the moans harder to hold back as his kisses moved lower, his tongue licking
against her collarbone. His lips licked the swollen curves of her breasts and the
hard, distended tips of her nipples.

Anna forced her lashes to remain raised, watching as the dark blond head lifted from
her neck, his golden brown gaze, heavy-lidded and filled with lust, staring down at
her. Watching her with so much heat that her pussy wept in need.

His lips were as swollen as hers felt, his expression as dazed as she knew hers must
be.

“Don’t stop.” It was a plea, a demand.

Aching, her hips lifted against his, stroking the swollen bud of her clit against
the length of his cock. She could feel her orgasm moving closer, building to that
point where she knew the pleasure would catapult her into sensations she had only
heard others talk about until now.

This would be nothing like the weak releases she’d found when she’d orgasmed in the
past.