Passion in Paradise 1: Paradise Awakening Read online

  Despite his need to throw her down and ease his throbbing ache inside her, he held off, letting her play. He enjoyed the feel of her hand on him, its warmth, its strength, the sweet tenderness with which she stroked.

  Now that— that he could live with forever.

  He stilled, thinking those forbidden thoughts again. Not forever. Right now. Right now, with her hand on his shaft, and what would soon follow. She was like a fire in his blood, but not an eternal flame. A quick spark. And once he’d walked through the fire a few times, the flame would die out.

  It had to. There was no other choice.

  He bounded off the bed, his body heating at the way her eyes followed the movements of his cock. She licked her lips, and he burned hotter.

  Serena sat up. “Let me suck it, Michael.”

  He bit back the groan that bubbled up in his throat, the thought of her hot, wet mouth surrounding the aching head of his cock more appealing by the second. But right now he had more pressing thoughts.

  Something he’d been dying to do since the first day they’d met. Something they’d even talked about earlier.

  “Later. Right now I want something else.”

  She arched a brow, her nipples hardening. He smiled, knowing just the thought of fucking again had fired her up instantly.

  With a quick scoot to the edge of the bed she wrapped her arms around his hips, drawing close to his cock. But she only rested her cheek against it, close enough her hot breath sailed over the sensitive head.

  “Tell me what you want,” she murmured, her voice a soft vibration against his stomach.

  He dragged her up against him until she was kneeling on the bed, her breasts pressed against his chest. She wound her arms around his neck, her finger slightly raking against the nape of his neck. He shivered and brought his mouth down over hers.

  Like an addict who couldn’t get enough of the drug that would be his downfall, he dipped his tongue into her mouth and ravaged her lips, trying to crawl inside her so deeply he’d never get free.

  Did he even want to?

  Once again he shoved the deeper thoughts aside and concentrated on the warm, willing woman in his arms. He ran his hands up the sides of her body, feeling her shudder as his fingertips brushed along the sides of her luscious breasts. She moaned when he pulled back and grazed his palms over her distended nipples.

  Dipping his head down he licked first one, then the other nipple, finally fitting his mouth around a swollen, taut bud, rewarded by her gasp of delight. He rolled her nipple around his tongue and she pushed her hips against his crotch, undulating against his rigid cock.

  With a quick twist he turned her around, pushing against her upper back so she ended up in a kneeling position on the bed.

  He paused and sucked in a breath at the sight of her gorgeous, full ass. Moisture glistened from her pussy lips. She threw her head back, her long blond curls trailing down her back.

  If he’d had a camera he could busy himself for the next hour or so taking pictures of the lush vision in front of him. His beautiful goddess was on her knees, ready to take his hard, heavy cock deep inside her dripping pussy.

  Every man’s dream.

  Turning her head to the side, her gaze met his. She smiled. “See anything you like?”

  “Oh yeah,” he rasped, taking his cock into his hand and stroking it, knowing how much she liked to watch him.

  She wriggled her ass at him in response, and bit down on her bottom lip, sucking it into her mouth. His shaft pulsed in his hand.

  Enough foreplay. He needed to bury his cock deep inside her, feel her heat surround him, squeeze him until he couldn’t hold back any longer.

  Positioning her at the edge of the mattress, he pressed against her, grabbing a handful of her full ass cheeks, squeezing them, delighting in her moan of pleasure when the head of his cock probed between her pussy lips.

  He teased her for a few minutes, rubbing against her clit until her juices spilled over his hand and cock.

  “Michael, please.”

  “You know I love it when you beg, baby,” he teased.

  He leaned in, spreading her outer lips and eased inside her. He closed his eyes and focused his mind on the sensations of her pussy closing around him, pulling him inside

  She moaned when he was fully inside, and he allowed her a few minutes to adjust. Besides, if he didn’t move he could feel every one of the contractions that clenched his shaft.

  His hands swept over her ass cheeks until he found her hips. Then he pulled back a little and thrust lightly against her, not fully penetrating. Her breathing increased to slow pants and she backed into him.

  Fuck, that was intense. He pulled out again, then thrust hard, shoving his cock in to the hilt.

  She whimpered. “Oh, God Michael, that’s so good.”

  “Oh, yeah,” he groaned. He could come instantly if he wanted to. His cock pulsed with the strain of holding back. But he knew she enjoyed this as much as he, and he wanted to prolong the pleasure— make it good for her, too.

  His fingers bit into her hips as he ground his cock deeply within her, pulling back repeatedly and shoving it in as far as it would go. Once they got a tempo going, he rode her hard and fast, adjusting to her body signals, knowing when she wanted it harder, sensing when he needed to ease up.

  The pleasure was intense, more than he could have expected. The visual of her ass pumping hard against him nearly had him coming in screaming agony. But he held off, stopped when he felt the pulsing contractions tighten his balls. He had to last awhile longer.

  But Serena wouldn’t have any of his hesitance. She leaned forward then backed against him, slapping her ass against him, hard.

  He’d never experienced anything as erotic as this. “Oh, yeah baby, fuck me.”

  Her wet pussy slid easily against his shaft, her juices pouring over his balls. He knew she was getting close by the pulsing contractions as her pussy squeezed his cock relentlessly.

  “Fuck me harder,” she moaned.

  Eager to please her, he stepped up his thrusts. Grabbing a handful of her hair he tugged, her head tilting back, her animal grunts spurring him on.

  “You like me riding you like this, baby?” he asked, focusing on her pleasure, the feel of her fucking back against him.

  “Yes. Harder, Michael, harder.”

  He leaned back and pummeled her, slamming his rod so hard inside her his balls slapped her pussy. She gasped and cried out, bucking back against him in wild abandon.

  His balls tightened up against him. “Fuck my cock, baby,” he rasped, feeling the first contractions overwhelm him.

  Arching her back she let out a low moan followed by cries of ecstasy as she came all over his cock, clenching him so tightly the sensations sent him over the edge. His release hit at the same time and he thrust once more, burying his cock as far as it would go as he pumped his hot come into her.

  The spasms continued nonstop, stealing his breath, forcing him to hold tight to her hips until he had no more to give. He collapsed on top of her back, wrapping his arms around her waist and holding her as close to him as he could.

  Dizziness overcame him. He was mindless, incapable of coherent thought or words. The orgasm had drained him both physically and mentally. When she dropped down on the mattress he slipped off and pulled her close to him, his hands roaming over her sweat soaked skin.

  The scent of sex permeated the air, mixing with the smell of rain and her sweet scent, intoxicating him, lulling him into restful peace.

  Never before had he been so caught up in the frenzy of fucking, only to follow up with a contented relaxation. Holding Serena in his arms seemed as natural as breathing. With other women he fucked them and when it was over he jumped out of bed and went back to his normal life.

  With Serena, all he wanted was to be with her, hold her, inhale her scent. And once they got out of bed, he actually wanted to talk to her.

  He swept his hands over her body as if he owned every square inch of
her, delighting at the goose bumps popping out on her skin when he lightly trailed his fingers over her spine. She giggled when he cupped her ass cheeks and slipped his finger in the crevice there.

  Despite knowing he should get up and drag them out of there, he couldn’t quite fit his mind around any movement. Instead, he was content to hold her in his arms.

  He never wanted to let her go.

  Drowsy, he yawned, his thoughts centered on the spectacular woman who’d given everything to him.

  She was amazing, he thought, his eyelids suddenly feeling heavy.

  She was his.

  “I love you Serena,” he murmured, then sighed and drifted off.

  Chapter Eleven

  Michael’s words stayed in Serena’s head the rest of the night. They were all she thought of. He’d awakened after a short snooze and they’d dressed and headed back to their room for a hot shower and dinner.

  Not once had he mentioned telling her he loved her. Nor had she asked him if that’s what he’d really said.

  Maybe she’d simply dreamed hearing the words she’d spent her lifetime longing to hear from a man.

  But to hear it from him? No way. She must have been mistaken.

  What if she hadn’t heard wrong? What if he had admitted he loved her? How would that change things between them? Should she ask him to repeat himself? Perhaps she could ask him to put it in writing.

  Yeah, right. That would be dumb. She rolled her eyes and imagined that conversation. She’d heard wrong. It was as simple as that. After all, when they’d returned to their suite, he’d bid her a quiet goodnight and gone to his room.

  He hadn’t asked her to sleep with him, hadn’t held her in his arms all night long like she’d wanted him to, nor had he made love to her again.

  She sighed and finished making breakfast, putting the eggs and bacon on their plates as soon as she heard Michael’s bedroom door open. Her heart thrummed against her chest at the sight of him, each day bringing her closer to the knowledge that she’d fallen hopelessly in love with him.

  And with every passing day the thought that their interlude was quickly coming to an end filled her with dread.

  Unless she was wrong about that. Unless the declaration of love she thought she’d heard yesterday had, in fact, been real. She made up her mind to ask him—not knowing would drive her crazy. At least if she knew, one way or the other, she could either discuss their options for the future, or steel her heart against breaking when the time came to leave.

  “Morning,” she said brightly, placing their plates on the balcony and pouring a cup of coffee for Michael.

  “Morning,” he said softly, his expression wary.

  Had he already realized his mistake? Was he looking for a way to backpedal from what he’d said?

  “Sleep well?” she asked.

  “Fine.”

  Dammit, this wasn’t going well at all. They were back to square one, tiptoeing around each other like they’d been at the very beginning. Serena felt the loss of intimacy they’d shared, and didn’t know what to do to get it back. After yesterday, this should be a time when they felt warm and comfortable around each other, not tense.

  “What’s on tap for today?” he asked between mouthfuls of egg.

  “Um, not sure.” They’d missed Simply Sex yesterday, although what they’d shared had been anything but simple. She rose to grab their schedule.

  “Group Sex,” she said, then frowned.

  He raised a brow and grinned. “Sounds fun.”

  She looked up from the schedule to meet his hot gaze. This event included sex with other people. Swapping. Anything goes in a group format.

  Less than a week ago it had sounded adventurous, thrilling, something she longed to try.

  Today, it sounded like a really bad idea. She didn’t want to have sex with anyone but Michael. Not today.

  Quite possibly never.

  But it appeared he was all gung ho over the idea, leading her to believe that she’d been mistaken in what she heard him say yesterday. Either that or they had completely differing views on what love meant.

  Her appetite disappeared. She pushed the eggs around on her plate and took a few nibbles of bacon. Michael wolfed down his food as if he hadn’t been fed in days.

  No loss of appetite on his side, apparently.

  Finally, she couldn’t stand it. Good or bad, she had to know.

  “Michael, I need to ask you a question.”

  He stopped, his fork midway to his mouth. “Yeah?”

  “About yesterday…”

  She saw him swallow, hard. Knew it then, even before she asked the question.

  “What about it?”

  “You said you loved me.”

  He looked at his plate and put the fork down, then grabbed his coffee and took a long swallow. Serena could swear she saw sweat bead on his upper lip. And were his hands shaking?

  Why was the subject of love like a death sentence to men? She’d never understood that one. Not when she’d desperately searched her entire life for someone she could be compatible with—intellectually as well as sexually. And she’d found him, only to find him having a near breakdown at her mention of the “L” word.

  “Never mind.” She didn’t want to know. Screw knowing. And screw him, too. She rose and took her plate to the kitchen. Michael followed.

  “Wait. I want to answer your question.”

  She slipped the plate into the dishwasher and turned, leaning her hip against the counter. Crossing her arms, she said, ”Go ahead.”

  He shifted on the balls of his feet like a kid who’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Honestly.

  “I said it, but it didn’t mean what you thought it meant.”

  Oh, that was a good lie. “I see.”

  “No, I don’t think you do.”

  She crossed her arms and got comfortable. This should be good. “Then why don’t you explain it to me.”

  “Yesterday was…fantastic. Tremendous. The best day I’d had in a long time. I think you know that as well as I do.”

  She felt herself warm, despite her rising irritation still remembering the way they’d come together, the way his cock had felt buried to the hilt inside her. “Yes, it was nice.”

  “Well, with a guy, we sometimes mistake rousing passion for love, and say something stupid.”

  Now she was getting even more heated, only it was a warm blush firing her furnace this time. “Stupid. Like “I love you Serena?” Stupid like that you mean?”

  He jammed his hand through his dark locks and blew out a breath. “Something like that, yeah.”

  “So, you didn’t mean you loved me when you told me you loved me.”

  “Right.”

  “It just meant ‘gee baby, that was a great fuck,’ right?”

  He scrunched his eyes shut and grimaced, then opened them. She refused to believe the regret she saw reflected in the pools of blue. “Not quite like that.”

  “No, it’s exactly like that. Fine. I felt the same way. It was the best fuck I’ve ever had. So far this week.” Leaving it at that she pushed away from the counter. Slipping past him, she made sure their bodies didn’t touch.

  “Hey, Serena. Come on.” He trailed after her, following her into her bedroom.

  She turned abruptly, blocking his further entry into the one place she could garner some privacy. “I need to be alone.”

  He sighed. “Look, I’m sorry. Damn me and my blurting. I never meant to hurt you.”

  “Hurt me? You didn’t hurt me. Confused me, yes, but hurt me? I’d have to care about you for you to hurt me. I’d have to love you for those words to stab at me. And I don’t. I don’t care about you, nor do I love you. Today isn’t any different than five days ago when we met. Great fucking and no emotional attachment.”

  His eyes darkened. “Are you sure that’s what we are?”

  “Positive,” she said, ignoring the ache of loss streaming through her. She’d been so stupid, so damn naïve. B
ut not anymore. Now she saw things clearly. “We’re great bed partners, Michael. We fuck well together. Let’s just keep it at that for the rest of the time, and neither of us will get hurt. Okay?”

  She didn’t buy his hurt look for a second.

  “Fine,” he said, his teeth clenched. “If that’s the way you want to play it. I’ll meet you at five for some fucking great group sex.”

  He turned on his heel and stormed off. She slammed the bedroom door and threw herself on the bed, damning the tears that welled in her eyes, damning him for making her care, and damning herself for involving her heart in what should have been a week filled with physical pleasure.

  She fought the tears, refusing to baby herself. Then, angry at feeling anything at all for someone who so clearly didn’t deserve it, she washed her face and chose her outfit for the next activity.

  Femme fatale was in order, she thought. She wanted to allure some of the more attractive men, or couples, or whoever it was she’d attract in a group sex environment.

  She chose a black dress, skin tight, short, with laces between her breasts.

  Spiked heel shoes, and a skimpy black and silver thong. She left her hair long and flowing down her back and spritzed on a tiny bit of perfume, did her makeup and applied ”fuck me red” lipstick.

  Gazing at her reflection in the mirror, she smiled. Perfect. She’d dressed perfectly for the part she’d play. She looked like a seductress, a siren, a woman who knew exactly what she wanted, who’d demand satisfaction.

  If this getup didn’t generate her some group action, nothing would. She’d show Michael Donovan who was desirable. She’d have men crawling at her feet to lick her toes tonight, begging for a chance to fuck her. And fuck her they would. She’d have as many as she wanted—maybe even more than one at a time.

  And she’d make Michael watch. Not touch her, just watch her come over and over and over again with different men.

  He didn’t want her. Fine. Others would.

  Straightening her shoulders, she inhaled a breath of courage and strolled slowly into the living room.

  Michael was there, his back to her. Her heart pinged in her chest at the sight of him in black shorts and white tank top. Casual, yet so incredibly handsome that merely looking at him fired heat between her legs, her panties damp. Her nipples pebbled against the stretchy tight dress. More the better, she thought. He could see that she was ready for action.