Fearless: An Enemies to Lovers Romance Page 3

  And I am feeling a bit wanton, I have to admit to myself. That strange tingling I felt earlier has expanded, intensified, and now I am acutely aware of his lips on mine, of the sensation of my nipples pressed against his chest. His hands are on me. One is on my lower back, anchoring me to him. The other is at the base of my neck, stroking me, tangling in my hair, driving me crazy as he kisses me. So, yeah, I’m moaning a bit.

  How the elevator doesn’t catch fire from the ambient heat, I’ll never figure out.

  One of his hands drifts across my hip, up my body, and cups my breast. Briefly.

  I giggle against his mouth.

  “Oh no, big boy,” I say, moving away and pushing his hand down. “Not yet. Not here.”

  He lets his hand fall to his side but his eyes stay on mine, hungry.

  Sean Kelly definitely cares about something at this moment.

  The elevator dings and the doors slide open.

  An old woman is waiting outside it. Her white hair is bobbed just under her ears, and a small white dog peeks out of her purse. When the woman sees the two of us, my hair in slight disarray and Sean looking at me as if I am a four course meal and he hasn’t eaten in days, she starts a bit and then treats us to a sly smile. “I can wait for the next elevator,” she says.

  I step out of the box. “No need. This is us.” I brush by her, my body feeling as if it is floating.

  Sean nods. “Ma’am.”

  The little dog yips at him as the doors close again, this time with a different set of passengers.

  I can feel him behind me. Stalking me. His steps are quiet in the pile carpet. The hallway seems long, far too long to make it to my door. I imagine him closing the distance between us, grabbing my hips from behind. Pushing me to the floor, pushing my dress up. Taking me.

  I want him to.

  From the sound of his ragged breathing, that’s what he wants, as well.

  But we make it to my door. I turn. He’s still looking at me, his eyes roving over my body. Everywhere he glances seems to burn. He fumbles in his pocket, takes out a card. Slides it through the door lock. He seems confused when it buzzes softly and blinks red.

  My hand on his wrist, moving him away while I slide my own card.

  And then we are in my room, and I am his.

  Chapter 4

  Sean

  She takes my hand and pulls me toward the bed. My cock is like hot stone in my jeans; it throbs with my heartbeat and chafes against my zipper.

  Dear God, I want to throw her face down on the bed and plunge into her.

  But then I won’t be able to see her eyes as she comes.

  I pull her back toward me. My fingers snake into her hair and I close my fist, pulling her head back so she’s looking up at me. At first she gasps, her hand going reflexively to my entrapping wrist, but then she relaxes. Smiles.

  It’s all right. She’ll go back to gasping soon enough. And making other sounds.

  I let my other hand trace up the outside of her thigh, pulling her dress up to her hip. Her panties—something lacy and scant—are soft. When my palm cups her ass, it’s mostly skin I feel, hot and supple beneath my touch. I kiss her again, pulling her hips against me so she can feel me hard against her belly. Muscles in her stomach tighten and her breathing goes shallow, rapid.

  “I want to take you now,” I growl against her neck. She is staring up at the ceiling, head still locked in place by my hand.

  “Do it,” she whispers.

  I chuckle and she squirms at the vibration against the tender skin of her neck. “No,” I say. “Not yet.”

  “Why?” her voice is quiet but carries a hint of urgency. She wants this as bad as I do.

  “Because,” I say, pulling back so I can look down into her eyes. “You’ve racked up debts today. Before I give you what you want, you’re going to have to pay my price.” Her eyes narrow, full of questions, but she doesn’t say anything. My hand snakes around under her dress. Her breath is shaky as I cross her hip once more, and lowers to a quiet moan as I center my palm on her pubis, wrapping my fingers down, down to put pressure on her sex. She is hot and her panties are already wet with her desire. She closes her eyes and saves her questions for another moment. “You’ve got a lot of work to do to pay back those debts.” My fingers rub circles over her, and her hips move with the rhythm.

  I release her hair, my hand dropping to the zipper on the back of her dress. It pulls down with one smooth motion and then I am lifting it over her head. My breath catches at the sight of her creamy thighs and flat belly. I growl in appreciation. I could do it. Right now. Just pull those white panties to the side and take her with one smooth thrust, standing up. Hold her up by her ass while her legs wrap around me and take her, slam into her. Give her what she wants.

  But not yet.

  I take her jaw between my thumb and forefinger, holding her gently. Her dark eyes gleam and her lips tremble just slightly. “The things I’m going to do to you, Theresa Vaughan.” Her mouth parts slightly with a sharp inhalation. I release her. “Turn around.”

  She looks uncertain for a moment, but I make a circle in the air with a finger. She turns and faces the bed.

  It’s my turn to take a deep breath. “Dear God, but you are a beautiful woman.” I move close to her, put my arms around her. Pull her in tight so that my cock is nestled between her cheeks. “Tell me, beautiful woman: are you fragile?”

  A sound I hadn’t expected to hear bubbles up from her throat. She chuckles. Her back vibrates against my chest so that it feels as if she is purring. “Why don’t you find out,” she says, and pushes back against me, moving that fine ass back and forth against my erection. She looks back over her shoulder, one dark eye piercing into me. “Unless you’re scared.”

  Theresa

  He deftly unclasps my bra and lets it fall to the floor. I keep the ac in my room turned down as far as it will go, and the bite of the cool air against my skin is a delicious contrast to the heat of his hand as he first grazes it over the round of my breast and then takes one nipple between thumb and forefinger, rolling it gently. I try not to give in so easily, but of its own accord my back arches, pressing my chest against his hand and my ass even more firmly against his member. I can feel it there, between my cheeks. I can’t tell if the throbbing sensation is his, if I can actually feel his cock pulsing, or if it’s me. We’re only just getting started, but I’m already so wet he could take me now. I want him to. There’s a deep ache inside me that will only be satisfies when he opens my body up to him, when he pushes into me.

  His thumbs hook into the sides of my panties and he pulls them to my knees in a smooth motion. This sudden exposure of my sex to the cool of the room cuts through the mild haze of alcohol, bringing me to total alertness, complete sensory acuity.

  This is really happening.

  Sean Kelly is really behind me, pressed against my naked body, and his fingers…

  Oh, God, his fingers…

  His fingers tease between my folds, slipping easily around my engorged nub. I moan, suffused with pleasure. My head lolls back against his chest. He enters me with two fingers, stroking in and out, and I reach behind me to clutch at his shoulders. The muscles are tense beneath his shirt, hard masses tightened to hold himself in check.

  “Do I seem scared?” he whispers in my ear.

  I can’t speak. My eyes grind shut in pleasure as my knees go weak. I can hear my own breathing rough in my ears. I’m making other sounds, too, in time with the movements of his invading fingers, but they’re not words that are coming out.

  He pushes me a step forward so my thighs are pinned against the bed, one hand between my shoulder blades so that I bend at the hips. I brace my elbows against the mattress and turn to look at him, but his hand holds me fast.

  “Not yet, dearie.” The Belfast is stronger in his voice now. His belt buckle clinks, and there is the sound of his zipper being pulled down. “For now, this is a taste.”

  And his cock is pressed against me
, moving forward slowly, deliberately. My pussy offers no resistance and I stretch open, and open to allow him to slide deeper into my slick channel.

  “God, yes,” I moan, trying to push back against him, take more of him in faster.

  But his hand is on my hip, holding me in place. His fingers shake, and his entire body is rigid against me.

  “Only a taste,” he whispers, his voice grating out with painful effort.

  He pulls back, pushes in again, farther, deeper, and I cry out for more.

  “Now you’re mine,” he says in that rough voice.

  Then he pulls out entirely. I want to complain, almost do, but he is so fast. He seizes my shoulder, spins me and drops me on my back, my legs dangling from the edge of the bed. Sean kneels between my knees, lifting my legs until my heels are on his shoulders. His eyes lock onto mine for a bare moment, and then I can’t see him any more. When his tongue dances into my sex, lashing at my clit and pushing in and out of my pussy, my eyes squeeze shut again.

  Whatever I am in press conferences, whatever I have to be in locker rooms, is irrelevant now. Because in this room, at this moment, I am his. His cock inside me, his mouth on me, this unbearable knot of pleasure building in my belly: they all claim me for Sean Kelly.

  Without missing a stroke with his tongue, he slides his fingers back into me, stroking my sensitive inner walls and making me scream, my body wanting to fly to the ceiling.

  “Please,” I moan.

  He stops, lifting his head. His fingers slow. The pleasure that was building, the edge of the cliff I was ready to drop off of, recedes somewhat, and I groan in protest.

  “What was that?” he says, his fingers still sliding in and out of me.

  “Please,” I repeat through clenched teeth.

  Sean smiles up from between my legs. “Begging, are we? You really want to come?”

  I try to take a deep breath and look up at the ceiling. My body moves of its own accord, betraying me. “Yes,” I say. “Please.”

  His chuckle is low and vibrates something deep in me. “What the lady wants,” he murmurs, lowering his head once more. I bite my lip even as his go back to work on me, molten electricity shooting through me as his tongue once again works between my folds. His fingers move faster and that cliff, now so high that I’m almost afraid of falling from it, comes closer.

  Closer.

  My body quivers against him as all my muscles tighten. My sex feels as if it is about to shatter like hot glass.

  Closer.

  And then I am falling.

  The orgasm grips me and shakes me, pleasure shooting through me as I cry out. Sean continues to work with his tongue, lapping at me, drawing more out of me as my body seizes. My legs wrap around his head and pull him to me, but he doesn’t seem to mind, just wraps his lips around my clit and sucks and licks as my orgasm goes on.

  When my body relaxes, I barely register that his head is no longer between my legs. I gasp for breath, eyes closed. It seems as if every muscle in my body shakes.

  And I hear the sound of clothes falling to the floor.

  I start to sit up, to look at him, and he is on me. I am again amazed by how fast he moves. And so powerful. He grabs around my ass, lifts, and tosses me higher up on the bed. Before I can draw a breath to squeal in surprise, Sean covers me with his body. His skin is hot against mine. The ridges of muscle stand out sharply in his big arms and shoulders. I touch him, running my fingers through the hair on his chest, but he grabs my wrists, pins them above me head, holds them there with one hand. Effortless.

  “You’re mine,” he says. His hand is between my legs again, not to penetrate but to push my thighs apart. I oblige, opening to him. Even after that astounding orgasm I want him inside me.

  Sean takes me, his hips slamming against my thighs hard enough they might bruise. But his cock driving into me is welcome, filling me, completing my body. I cry out again. My body lifts and fights against his restraining hands, but he holds me fast, pushing into me again and again.

  He holds me down and fucks me. His blue eyes lock onto mine, challenging me to resist him. I twist my arms, but his grip is like being encased in stone. He’s held down stronger fighters than me effortlessly. I am completely helpless against his iron grip. Against his questing hand clutching my ass. Against the piston of his cock inside me.

  And I wouldn’t have it any other way. His breathing becoming labored. I lock my ankles around his waist. He is like lightning. Like thunder and ocean waves and earthquakes all rolled into one. His power is like nothing I’ve experienced before, and the sheer animalism of it, the barely restrained brutality, is enough to send me into another orgasm, shrieked out through clenched teeth. He changes tempo, his thrusts now short and deep, deep within me. Sean buries his face in my neck and cries out. His hips move hard, insistent. And then he releases himself deep inside me, roaring into the pillow.

  His movements slow, then stop. His breathing is heavy and hot against my skin. I am gratified to feel all his weight relax on top of me. He releases my wrists, but I don’t move them just yet.

  Something is wet on my neck.

  Sean lifts his head and I see that his eyes are rimmed red. He looks away, shifts to move off me.

  Now I move my hands, wrapping my arms and legs around him, pulling him back down, keeping him inside me, keeping our warmth together for a few more minutes.

  Chapter 5

  Sean

  I didn’t expect this. I’m used to staying in complete control. I had planned to make Theresa beg, and come, and beg some more. To staying at the very edge of all she could take for a long, long time. But…

  I don’t know. Maybe it was the drink. Maybe it was the probing question that touched a deeper part of me than I’m used to. Maybe it was the woman, herself.

  When she moves against me, her body so warm and willing, it’s different than with other women. Her moans have me harder than I can remember ever being. And when she clenches around my fingers in the grip of that first orgasm, the muscles of her stomach standing out in relief in the low light, I lose control.

  I have to have her right then.

  And I do. With none of the control I am accustomed to. With fury and passion and an intense need to hold her, to fuck her, to release all my pent-up emotion into her willing body. I take her and it’s as if we were cast from the same mold. She holds me within her but it is, in this moment, like we are two parts of the same body, moving, dissolving. I fuck her mindlessly, like a beast, and when I come a dam breaks open inside me. All the years of hiding from who I am, from my history, they open up wide and come spilling out of me in a torrent.

  This isn’t who I am. I’m Sean Fucking Kelly. I’m not a man who weeps after sex. I’m not a man who weeps at all.

  But here I am, sobbing into Theresa Vaughan’s neck. Time to go.

  And she wraps me up, holding me down in her guard like a professional fighter, as my prick goes soft inside her, as my muscles go soft on top of her. She holds me and strokes my hair and whispers in my ear, sounds that aren’t even words, just sussurrating noises that mean, you’re safe here, you can stay, there is nothing here that will hurt you.

  Maybe it’s the drink. Maybe it’s the woman, herself. But I believe, and I stay.

  After a while, I roll onto my back. Theresa has one thigh draped across my hips and her fingers are tangled in my chest hair.

  Words start coming out without my having to bother thinking of them.

  “He was my best friend, you know. Did they tell you that?”

  Her hand stops moving, rests flat against my chest.

  “No.”

  I nod, my eyes pointed at the ceiling, but my gaze going much further than that. Back fifteen years or more. He’s right there, curly dark hair and freckles, always grinning. Somehow, after everything we’d been through, always with that damn grin. One of his front teeth was crooked, and he was two inches taller than I. No matter how tall I got, Aiden would always be two inches taller.

>   He’s so close I could fucking touch him. Closer than he’d been in a very long time.

  “Our old man, he left when I was five years old. Aiden was seven. How would that be, yeah? To be the man of the house when you’re seven fuckin’ years old.” I close my eyes, but he’s still there, still grinning. “He had the Irish curse, did the old man.”

  Her voice is low. “Drink?”

  I loose a short laugh. “No. Well, yeah, of course the old man drank. But that’s not the curse I mean. I mean he was just unhappy, always looking for something new. He was a wanderer. He was with our mam for a while. Tried to make it work. But then the curse got the better of him and he wandered on.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  I shake my head, putting my hand on top of hers. Even in the opening salvo of my personal history rising up within me, I enjoy touching her. “Don’t be. He was a shit, my dad. It was the best that he left. For me, anyway. For Aiden, perhaps not so much.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he was the man of the house then, you see. That means something. Carries responsibility.”

  Her voice is incredulous. “When he was seven?”

  “Aye. In reality, of course not, it’s stupid to make a boy like that responsible for a household. Mam never expected that of him. I guess maybe I did, but what the fuck did I know, I was five. But Aiden, he just took it all upon himself. He quit school, tried to apprentice himself to a thatcher—that’s a man that makes grass roofs—but the man said he was too young. But he gave Aiden odd jobs to keep him busy and slipped him a quid or two for the work. He was industrious, my big brother.

  “It was hardest on him when Mam took another man. She did that from time to time. She was a human like anybody else. But some of those men, they had that other Irish curse. They’d get in their cups and then sometimes they’d slap Mam around a bit. And then there’d come this ten year old kid racing at them like a fury from hell.” I feel myself grinning even as fresh, hot tears slide down my cheeks. “Goddamn he was fearless. He could give it better than a boy his age should have been able to, and he could take a beating like a grown man. And he had to, more than once.”