Shades of Passion (29 page)

“That’s such an amazing sight,” he said. “Fucking beautiful.”

She smiled and once again drew him deeper into her mouth. And once again, he rewarded her with a slight pull to her hair. This time, the sting sent a jolt of pleasure between her legs so sharp that she instinctively lowered one of her hands to rub at her clit. She was wet, practically dripping for him, and she worked her fingers against herself even as she continued to work him with her mouth.

“Now that’s even more beautiful,” he gritted out. “You touching yourself while you pleasure me. You’re beautiful, Nina. I want you. Give me your mouth on mine. Now.”

When she didn’t comply right away, he lightly gripped her jaw and drew her mouth away from him. Then he hoisted her up and took her mouth in a deep kiss. Instinctively, she placed both hands on his shoulders again, but before she could miss the pleasure of sensation between her legs, he lowered his hand and gave it back to her. Only his touch felt so much better than her own. His fingers were bigger. Longer. Harder. And of course they made her think of another part of his body that would soon be inside her. How much bigger, longer and harder it would be, and how it would stretch her to her limits and still leave her craving more.

“Shift your legs farther apart,” he commanded against her mouth. “Let me get to all these pretty pink bits and sweet, sweet heat. I want to touch every inch. And then I want to taste it, Nina.”

She did as he commanded, gasping when he plunged a finger inside her.
So good,
she thought.
This feels so good.
But he’d taken over, she realized. He was driving her crazy with pleasure, when that had been her goal for him. When she pulled back to tell him so, her words caught in her chest.

He certainly
looked
crazy with lust. His eyes were hooded, his cheeks flushed, his mouth hard and desperate. All good, but not quite good enough.

“My breasts,” she gasped. “Please. Suck me. Taste me, just like you said.”

Swiftly, he lowered his head, catching her right nipple in his mouth and sucking so strongly she automatically jerked and wailed, “Yes. God yes!”

He took his time there, working her with his hand, working her with his mouth and teeth, even as his hips pumped the air beside her, his cock obviously wanting some attention of its own.

She lowered her hand and gripped him. Stroked him with firm, pulling motions.

He switched to her other nipple, giving it lavish attention, as well.

And suddenly it was too much. She grabbed his ass and said, “Now. I want you inside me. Please.”

“Not yet,” he said.

She tried pulling him forward, but he resisted until she wanted to cry. He’d promised her lots of foreplay, but she didn’t want it. She wanted him inside her, big and thick, blocking out everything else but how good they made each other feel. She was too empty. Too achy to take much more. Or rather, too achy to take anything less than all of him.

“Please, Simon. Now.”

He released her breast and looked at her, and her desperation seemed to spark his own. With a savage curse, he lowered her to the bed again, then pinned her wrists above her head.

“What are you—?” she began, startled by the erotic restraint.

“I’m going to give it to you, but we’re going to go slow. You’re not going to rush me. I’m going to draw this out all night. Me pumping into you again and again. You’re going to beg me to give you your climax, but this time, I’m not going to give in. Not until you want it so bad, you can’t think of anything else.”

“I already can’t think of anything else,” she insisted, instinctively fighting against his hold, but stopping as his gaze became intent and, with his other hand, he began to guide himself into her body.

When he penetrated her with the tip of his cock, her head fell back with a gasp. Such a small part of him, but it brought her such intense pleasure. How was that possible?

“You want more?” he asked.

She ground her head against the bed, closed her eyes and moaned.

“Do you?” he insisted.

“Yes!”

“Then look at me. Now,” he ordered, his voice going slightly hard.

Her gaze shot to his and he pushed himself inside her several more inches.

“Don’t take your pretty eyes off me, Nina. I want you to look at my face when I take you. I want you to see how much pleasure you give me.”

She stared at him as he’d commanded, and by the looks of things, she gave him a lot of pleasure. He looked like he was dying of it as he pushed home. He gritted his teeth. Sweat popped out on his forehead. The hands that bracketed her wrists to the bed trembled.

And inside her, deep inside her, he pulsed. Thick and hard and wonderful.

But he didn’t move. He pressed in deep. Deeper.

Frantically, she wiggled her hips, and his gaze dropped to hers as he frowned. “Stay still.”

She arched up even higher, working herself on him. “No! I want this. Move, damn you. I— No!” she cried as she felt him slide out of her. “What are you doing?” She fought against his hold once more, gasping when he flipped her onto her stomach, put an arm under her and lifted her until her chest was on the bed and her hips were raised to accept him.

She glanced at him over her shoulder, aroused beyond bearing, knowing that this position made her wholly vulnerable to him, wholly at his control, and that that’s exactly what he wanted. To test him, she tried to lift her torso, but he pressed a hand to her back, keeping her in place.

“No,” he growled. “I told you, this time you’re not going to rush me.” He slicked his erection against her from behind. “You want this? You want to come? Then you’re going to do exactly what I say, do you understand? You’re going to wait.”

She shivered. He was big. Strong. Commanding. The first time they’d made love, he’d shown her so much pleasure she thought she’d die from it. But he hadn’t been this aggressive. This dominating.

Even so, she had a feeling that this was his natural state as a lover. And that only made her want him more.

“Are you going to do as I say?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Good,” he said, rewarding her by pressing a kiss to her back and smoothing her hips with his palms. Then he gripped her hip with one hand and, as he had before, used his other hand to guide himself inside her.

This time, he didn’t work himself into her by degrees. This time, he shoved himself in to the hilt with such force that she saw stars. And then, instead of stopping and pressing deep as he had before, he gripped her hips with both hands and started thrusting, slow and sure, but hard and powerful, starting a rhythm that had her fingers clenching in the sheets and her inner muscles gripping in a desperate attempt to keep him inside her.

But it was no use. She was at his mercy. He shuttled in and out of her for what could have been minutes, hours or days, steadily pounding her closer and closer to climax until—yes, finally!—she was almost there and then...

And then he slowed. Then stilled completely.

She wanted to scream with frustration. She wanted to flip over and slap him for denying her her pleasure. But remembering what he’d said, that if she wanted to come she’d have to wait, she forced herself to remain still.

Behind her, he waited a few seconds, obviously waiting to see what she’d do, and when she only drew in deep breaths, biting her lip to stifle her desperate moans, he said, “Good girl,” and started in again.

Twice more he repeated that particular brand of torture, going at her like a jackhammer and building her to an intense orgasm only to stop and prevent her from going over. Twice more, when he stopped, she somehow managed not to press his hand, but she couldn’t stop the words that fell from her lips.

“Please, Simon. Please. I want to come. Please make me come.”

She was babbling, almost crying with the need for release, sure she wouldn’t be able to take it if he started and stopped again.

“Shh. I know you want it. I know you
need
it. And this time I’m going to give it to you. Even harder than before. But first...I said I wanted to taste you, remember?”

He slid back and pulled her legs apart, but when she instinctively moved to turn on her back, he held her and said, “No. Like this.”

“What?” she said automatically, suddenly feeling shy. “I don’t want—”

But then his breath was on her, followed by the slick, firm caress of his tongue. It startled her into silence. And then drew a wail of pleasure from her as it probed inside her. Just as he had before, he penetrated her with slow, strong rhythmic thrusts, but this time he used another part of himself. When he wasn’t penetrating her, he was licking at her while his fingers penetrated her. And he didn’t let up until she was a shaking, sobbing mess, her body trembling with her need for release.

Weakly, she lay there and sensed him reach into the nightstand for a condom. She heard rustling as he put it on. Then, once again, he gripped her hips and positioned himself at the entrance of her body. “You ready?” he growled.

“Yes,” she breathed. “I’m ready.”

“Then come, Nina. Come hard. And when you do, think of me. Only me. Me over you. Me inside you. Me,” he commanded, punching his hips forward. Just like before, he rode her hard. This time, however, he reached around and put his hand between her legs, manipulating her clitoris even as he filled her.

It took less than a minute for her world to shatter. She screamed when her orgasm hit her, her hips bucking uncontrollably and her whole body shaking with spasms that seemed to go on and on. At some point, she was aware of his chest pressed against her back and his own bark of pleasure as he found his release, as well.

When it was over, he was shaking, too. So hard that she couldn’t tell where her tremors ended and his began. With a groan, he moved to the side, slipped out of her and pulled her into the cradle of his arms.

* * *

N
INA’S BREATHING SLOWED
from harsh gasps to a more mellow rhythm. Simon kept his arms wrapped around her, enjoying the weight of her body as it lay against his, unwilling to let go. He breathed in deep, inhaling her heady scent—lilac, peppermint and sex.
Their
sex. And what incredible sex it had been. Wonderful, terrific, beautiful. Hell—to someone more sentimental, it might be described as butterflies-and-rainbows-and-glitter kind of sex. To another, it would more aptly be described as raunchy as hell. He’d been more aggressive with her than he’d ever been before. Because he’d wanted to control her. Mark her. Give her the best sex of her life, and take the kind of sex from her he knew she was capable of giving him.

The kind of sex a woman gave when she completely let go.

The kind of sex a man gave when he completely fell in love.

His heart revved up. What the hell was that word doing in his mind?

Nina shifted, as if to move away from him—as if she sensed he was upset—but he instinctively tightened his arms around her.

Love. What a loaded word. But there it was, bouncing around inside his head as if it belonged there.

He couldn’t love her. He hadn’t known her long enough to fall in love with her. Besides, even assuming he could love her? He’d fuck it up. Make mistakes. Just like he had with Lana.

His thoughts hit like a kick to the gut. He’d been fooling himself, thinking he didn’t blame himself for Lana’s death. Obviously some part of him
did
blame himself, and in the abstract, it was perfectly understandable why he would.

He’d talked to her about his concerns, warned her that she was putting herself in danger, but in the end, those words hadn’t made a damn bit of difference. He should have done something. Hell, he should have kidnapped her and tied her down if that’s what it had taken to keep her safe, if that was the only thing that—

Next to him, Nina shifted. In her sleep, she smiled, as if being in his arms was all she needed to be blissfully happy.

He closed his eyes and buried his face in Nina’s hair. He reminded himself that Lana had been a grown woman. She would have hated him if he’d tried to control her. Just like Nina would.

Shit, Simon thought, as he finally realized just how much Nina had come to mean to him.

Even what he’d felt for Lana was different than this.

This?

This was more powerful. More real.

And as such, it was all the more dangerous.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

T
HE NEXT DAY,
S
IMON
brought Nina back to work with him only to escort her, along with several files she’d picked up from her office at the hospital, to an empty room. There, she planned on preparing a formal proposal for the MHIT program, which she would eventually present to Commander Stevens and the other higher-ups. “It makes sense for me to construct the proposal,” she said, “even though I won’t actually be conducting any of the training or even heading up the program.”

“What do you mean?” he responded with a frown. He leaned against a wall in the small office, arms crossed.

“My boss, Karen? This is really her project.” Nina separated file folders, making several neat stacks. “She asked for my help to get things started, but once the proposal is approved, there will no longer be any reason for me to be involved.”

“But don’t you
want
to be involved?” he asked, unsettled by the feeling of distress that was suddenly rising inside him.

He’d assumed once the MHIT training began, Nina would be a critical part of it, and he’d see her, if not often, at least occasionally. Logically, a relationship between them wouldn’t work, but that knowledge had been tempered somewhat by his belief she’d still be close by. Now? To realize that she never planned on coming back? It made him want to howl with rage, take her in his arms and refuse to let her go.

Instead, he simply waited for her to respond to his question.

Nina looked away and shrugged. “So long as the program is implemented, that’s all that matters to me. I miss my geriatric patients. It’s time I get back to them.”

“You work solely with older patients?” he asked. “Like the one that gave you that skin flick? Do you ever work with younger people?”