A Million Different Ways (Horn Duet 1)

“A long time.”

“How long?”

“Long enough that I’m a little sore.”

“How long?”

The bossy aristocrat was back––at least it was the kinder version. I blew out a resigned breath. “Six years.” The last time I saw Aleksander, before he boarded the train for Brussels and left me at the mercy of a pack of wolves. Sebastian’s hands stalled on my shoulder blades.

“Vera…how many lovers have you had?”

I struggled, tried to escape the steel circle of his arms, but he was an immovable force. “How dare you. That is none of your business. Let me go! A thousand…four hundred and fifty five! How many have you had?!!”

He had the effrontery to chuckle as I struggled in vain. “Too many to count––and it is my business. You are my business. Besides, I already know you’re inexperienced,” he claimed, a hint of smugness in his voice. His sensual lips returned to the delicate skin of my throat, soothing me into submission, until I ceased to struggle. Frankly, I couldn’t resist him if I tried. One touch, one sweet word, and I was putty in his hands.

Breathless, I asked, “How do you know that?”

“I’ve never seen anyone blush so easily.”

I couldn’t help rolling my eyes. “Great.”

“Makes me hard as a rock. If you had any idea what I want to do to you every time I see it, you’d run out of here screaming.”

His audaciousness made me laugh and his expectant gaze coaxed an admission out of me. “One…before you,” I grumbled. Nothing I was proud of––I was practically thirty years old for goodness sake. Clearly, I had quite a bit of living to do.

“So… I’m two?”

“Yes.” The heavy silence that followed had me wondering if it bothered him.

“I’m honored.”

I glanced up again and found him staring with the same profound intensity that always made me shrink away, afraid that he could read my thoughts. But he captured my lips before I could, and kissed me until sense and desire stopped waging war in my mind.

“I need you,” I said practically whining.

He worked me up quicker than I wanted to admit. Until I was begging him to ease the emptiness––before I actually expired from it.

“Shhh,” he whispered, and let the weight and warmth of his body calm my nerves. “Slowly, or you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.” There was no arrogance in his tone, only tenderness and concern. When he flipped me onto my back and pried my thighs apart, I tensed, instantly shy again.

“Let me.” This was not a request.

It was impossible to hold onto any sense of modesty. He arranged me spread open for his inspection, tasted me in licks, and nibbled the tender skin inside of my thighs as he worked his way north to where a fever of epic proportion was growing. His skill and stealth chased away all rational thought, all my awkwardness. My muscles tensed and bowed as he feasted on me, licking and blowing on the sensitive nub still tender from all his attention earlier, and finally drew an orgasm out of me so violent I thought my heart would stop; my uninhibited scream echoing throughout the room. I heard a drawer open and close, the sound of foil ripping. My eyes fluttered open to find him standing with his legs spread apart and his sex jutting up aggressively. He looked larger than life, determined…hungry.

“I need to be inside of you,” he said as he rolled on a condom.

It was a simple statement of fact. Absolute. As was his need for oxygen or water. There was no negotiating and no doubt. Yes, yes, my mind begged silently. I breathed a sigh of relief when he positioned himself between my thighs. Pieces clicked into place naturally; a familiarity that comes from time shared we didn’t have. I wanted to melt into him, disappear altogether. I felt strangely complete––odd, because I’d never noticed that part of me was missing. He shunted deep and exhaled harshly, my aroused body welcoming him.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” I reassured him, urging him on with a nudge of my hips.

His lust filled eyes squeezed shut for a brief moment. He rocked his hips gently, gradually increasing the force of his thrusts. I wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled him deeper. His eyes, drunk with pleasure, watched me closely, capturing every twitch and moan. “Open your eyes. I want to see you when you come for me,” he purred. The intoxicating sweetness of his lovemaking made it impossible. Every time my body quivered, on the brink of rapture, he held steady, leaving me coiled tightly on the edge of release. “Don’t come yet,” he ordered. I was strung out, exhausted. A tear escaped my eye and ran down my temple. He kissed me and licked the tear away. “Mine,” he whispered in my ear.