Driven by Desire Page 12

  "You know, that night I went to the shop looking for Riley Bancroft? The night we met?" his deep voice drew her in, commanded her to look at him.

  "Yes?" she whispered, her lashes sweeping up. Dark eyes clashed with darker. How could she forget that night? It was the night he decided to stomp all over her life and steal her independence forever.

  "I knew you took my car," he told her, his dark eyes cold. She froze, pinned to the spot by his words. "How could it be anyone else? I knew of only one man capable of stealing a car of that rarity and quality. Your father, Alan Bancroft. It only made sense, since the man was dead, that his illusive progeny would follow in his footsteps. I had heard rumblings that the 'son' was most likely going to qualify for the prestigious Sparrow Hawk Cup and needed a car. I put two and two together. Unfortunately, I didn’t get quite the right answer, did I?”

  She froze, pinned to the spot by his words. He stepped closer to her, his gaze taking in every nuance of her features as she worked out what he was saying.

  Reading the growing horror on her face, he nodded. "I was going to end you that night, Riley. Put a bullet in your head,” he admitted, his deep voice caressing her, despite the chilling content of his words. "I had to send a message to anyone else interested in touching my property."

  "Only... I wasn't what you thought," she whispered, her velvet eyes wide with apprehension. She had come so close to death in her single-minded pursuit of racing glory. What if Solomon hadn't become fascinated by her that night?

  He reached her side but he didn't touch her. He didn't need to. His eyes and his voice were powerful enough to capture and hold her. He watched as a drop of water escaped from beneath the towel, fell from her temple and dripped onto her breast. Her chest rose and fell with her rapid breathing. He brought his fingertips up to touch the water drop, catching it on his knuckle and sliding his finger up the soft curve of her breast. She flinched and stared at him wide-eyed as he brought the water to his mouth.

  "No, you weren't what I thought," he admitted. "You can now claim the privilege of being the only person to change my mind once I set my course. And Riley?"

  She moistened her lips. "Yes?" she whispered.

  "I don't change my mind," he told her, his words holding deep significance.

  Her chest lifted and dropped with the effort it took to just breath. He pinned her in place without touching her, watching closely as she struggled to breath. He hoped she wasn't having a panic attack. He was going to fuck her. No matter what she threw at him in the next few minutes. He didn’t care if it made him a monster, he would fuck a hysterical woman. He couldn't go one more minute without sinking into Riley’s delicious body.

  "What now?" she asked him.

  He didn't answer. Instead he brought both hands up and gently unwrapped the towel from her hair so he wouldn't tug the wet strands. He let the damp towel drop to the floor and reached for the one knotted against her breasts. She brought her hands up and took a quick step back. He snagged her wrist in one hand and wrenched the towel away with the other, baring her once more.

  “Soloman, please!” she gasped out.

  He didn’t fucking care that she was saying his name in protest. That she was afraid and half-heartedly trying to stop him. He loved the way she said his name and then “please” after. It sounded like she was begging him and, fuck yeah, he liked the sound of that on her lips. He wanted her to beg him. They would get there. Soon. Once he’d slaked his lust on her body a few times and brought the raging hunger under control. He would be calm enough to show her exactly what he was capable of giving her in bed. She would never want him to stop. She would wonder why she was so afraid to begin with. Then she would say his name and beg him for more, forming those words with those too sexy lips in something other than fear.

  But now… now… as she struggled against him, her naked body wiggling in all the right places, he only saw a green light. He picked her up, took the necessary step to the bed and threw her into the mattress. She let out a yell and rolled onto her belly. She tried to climb onto her hands and knees and crawl away from him, but the view of her ass and pussy from behind only inflamed him further.

  He shook his head, trying to remind himself that he wasn’t a beast. That he usually had enough finesse to ensure his sexual partners enjoyed themselves. He took hold of her waist in a bruising grip and jerked her back toward him. Her arms flew out from under her and she landed on her chest in the bedding. He buried his face in her ass from behind, inhaling the scent of her pussy.

  Heaven.

  She froze at the first stroke of his tongue. Probably because she had been expecting a brutal assault, not the ravaging but pleasurable touch of a tongue against her clit. He explored each fold of her pussy while she whimpered and squirmed underneath him, until he finally sat back and spanked her ass cheek with enough force to draw a scream from her.

  “Stop trying to get away from me or I will tie you down.”

  He flipped her over, pinned her arms over her head and glared down at her. Her wide luminous eyes stared back at him, begging him for something. His lust fogged brain tried to understand what she wanted. More time? Slow down? Impossible. His body was on fire for her.

  "Stop fighting. Just feel." He tapped the side of her head with two fingers. "Stop thinking so much. Stop thinking about my reputation."

  "The things you can do to people..." she whispered up at him. “I’ve heard things.”

  "I won't do that to you," he promised fiercely. "I will never touch you that way."

  "But you might hurt me.” She arched her body underneath him as though to get away, but only managed to press her naked body further into him. He grimaced and tensed, trying to hold himself back from savagely ripping into her.

  He didn't want to lie to her. It was inevitable that he would hurt her. She was willful, head strong and loved to throw herself into dangerous situations. "Hurt, yes, probably,” he said as softly as he could. She shivered underneath him. "But break, never. I want you whole, gorgeous girl.”

  "I'm scared of you,” she admitted.

  He nodded. It was what he thought he wanted. Now he wasn't sure. He ran his fingers down her cheek. "Just feel, Riley. I can make this good for you. Will you let me?"

  Her eyes shimmered luminous in the early morning light. She didn't have a choice. He was giving her a reprieve from the anger and punishment he had felt when she ran from him with his damn car. He was willing to make their first time together good for her if she stopped fighting him.

  Finally, she nodded and forced her body to relax. Something inside his chest, something he didn’t know existed, loosened and melted for the woman underneath him. He would make it good for her if it killed him.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  She didn’t want him to hurt her and if she didn’t let him fuck her he would tear her apart. He wasn’t going to let her go and he wasn’t going to stop. Her choices had narrowed down to this moment. She either submitted or faced his wrath for the infractions she had committed.

  He sat up, his powerful legs on either side of her naked thighs, trapping her in the soft bedding. His possessive heat raking her breasts as he unbuttoned his shirt and slid it over his powerful shoulders. Her wide eyes traced over the tattoos mapped across his chest and up his neck. She reached out hesitantly to touch one on his pectoral muscle, but dropped her hand quickly.

  “Touch me,” he demanded, capturing her fingers in a tight grip.

  He covered her much smaller hand and forced it to his hair roughened chest. He held her hand tightly for a moment until he was certain she wouldn’t take her fingers away when he loosened his hold. Her eyes stayed on his tattoo as she traced the pattern. It was some kind of pagan tattoo – almost Celtic, but in the shape of a four-sided, bladed weapon. It protected his heart. She traced her fingertips over the intricate knots, fascinated by the depth of the work. Her nail accidentally scraped against his flat nipple, drawing a hiss from him. Her eyes flew to his and she nearly snatched her h
and back.

  “Don’t stop,” he growled from between gritted teeth.

  She nodded and continued her exploration, touching his tattoos each in turn and tracing them over his torso and arms. Once in a while his muscles would go rigid under her delicate touch until he forced himself to relax. Much to her astonishment, she found herself growing bolder as she explored his hard body. She wanted to understand the story behind each tattoo. And she knew there must be one. They were each unique in their own way and flowed from one to the other. She leaned up on her elbows and reached for the waist of his jeans, tracing her fingers around the edge, blocked from exploring what she suspected was a blade on his hip.

  Her eyes met his as her hesitant, trembling fingers reached for his heavy belt buckle. This was going to happen anyway, she may as well control the speed. His eyes burned into hers as she fumbled with the metal. He brushed her fingers aside and unbuckled the belt for her, then undid the button and drew the zipper down. Peeling the material of the jeans back for her, he captured her hand once more and pressed it against his hip to encourage her to complete her exploration.

  Riley’s face flushed as she realized he wasn’t wearing underwear. Her eyes dropped down his body, skittering down the tattoos once more until she reached the blade she’d been trying to discover. It was clutched tightly in the upraised bony hand of a hooded grim reaper. She gasped and her jaw dropped. What were the odds of the man, whose terrifying pursuit had brought them to this moment, having a tattoo of her racing handle? She moved further up on her elbow to better see the artwork. It was both horrifying and beautiful, frightening and lonely. Just like his owner. Her breath shivered across the skin of his hip, caressing the top of his erection still trapped in the material of his jeans.

  Soloman’s hand landed on the back of her head, threading through her damp hair. He tilted her face up to his, devouring her gorgeous features with his scorching gaze. “Fuck, I need you so bad.”

  He swooped down to capture her lips. Though his kiss was fierce, his lips and tongue insistent, he was careful not to hurt her this time, drawing back each time his control threatened to snap. He coaxed her tongue out to play with his until she was moaning into his mouth and clutching his naked shoulders, holding him tight against her naked chest, driving him crazy with each brush of her engorged nipples against his body.

  Crouching over top of her, he broke their kiss for only as long as it took to shove his jeans down his thighs and kick them off the bed. He settled between her perfect, curvy thighs and spread them wide with his knees. She moaned and reached between their bodies, intent on feeling for herself what he had thrust against her so many times. He captured her wrists and held them over her head. Her eyes flew open and met his in question.

  He shook his head. “No, gorgeous. If you touch me, it’ll be game over. I refuse to come anywhere but inside that beautiful cunt.”

  She flushed at his blatant words and squirmed against him, her body arching involuntarily into him. She bit her lip and tried to hold his gaze as she whispered, “What about condoms?”

  He shook his head sharply, dropping his face into her neck and biting her collarbone, causing her to gasp and jump against him. He licked the small bite of pain away until she was moaning, her pussy dripping for him once more. How could this man make her crave both pleasure and pain in so short a time? What was he doing to her?

  He took her jaw in a firm grip and forced her to look into his dark, stern eyes. “Nothing will come between us, Riley. You understand? I know you're on the pill. We’re both clean. We fuck without protection.”

  Her eyes widened as she digested his words. How the hell did he know she was on the pill and had a clean bill of health? And it wasn’t like he knew for sure she took it regularly. With his caveman idiocy, he was damn lucky she happened to have them in her purse and had taken one the evening before. She opened her mouth to tell him to fuck off and put a condom on, when he captured her lips once more and distracted her with another zero to sixty kiss.

  He hooked her leg around his arm and pulled it up the bed, opening her wide. She gasped, giving him the opportunity to fuck his tongue deep into her mouth, taking advantage of her momentary shock. He lined his thick cock up against her soaking entrance and pushed forward, forcing his way through tight, unused tissues. Riley cried out into his mouth and arched her back against the mattress in an attempt to relieve the pressure. His cock felt so good, but it was tearing her apart!

  He pulled away from her mouth and dropped his forehead to hers, gritting his teeth as though in pain. “Feels so fucking good, Riley. Can’t fucking hold on!”

  Riley knew she would be sore later, but she also knew he would take her on a ride she would never forget. She wrapped her arms around his neck and arched her body up into his, driving his cock further into her silken depths. She bit back a scream as pleasure and pain crashed through her, tipping her head back into the mattress. He grabbed her neck and forced her head up into the curve of his neck. She flicked her tongue out and licked him, tasting the masculine saltiness of his sweat slicked skin.

  He groaned and crushed her into the mattress. He lifted her legs and wrapped them around his hips before driving completely into her. Unable to hold back her screams, Riley rocked the room around them with her hoarse cries as he took her hips in a bruising hold and slammed into her over and over until they were both flying over the edge together. Riley reached her peak first, her clitoris stimulated unbearably by the rough mauling of his hair-roughened body slamming into her. She arched backwards in his arms, flying apart in beautiful abandon.

  Unable to hold on once he watched Riley throw her arms over her head and scream out her ecstasy in his bed, in his home, Soloman quickly followed her, his dick gliding through her incredibly tight pussy as though knowing it had found the only home it ever wanted. He slammed himself deep within her, pressing tight against her cervix and flooding her with semen while watching the shock on her gorgeous face as heat penetrated her lower belly.

  After a few moments of just watching her flushed face relax into sleepy confusion, he finally pulled out. Her tight pussy spasmed around him, reluctant to release him. He could feel himself growing hard all over again. At his age that should be damn near impossible, but this woman made him feel fucking inhuman. Looking down into her exhausted face, he knew he would have to give her time to rest before taking her again.

  He rolled off the bed and strolled toward the washroom, dick in hand. He made quick work of cleaning them both up with a warm washcloth. Riley tried to roll away from him with a moan of embarrassment, but he caught her by the ankle and flipped her on her back. He wedged her knees open and gave her a stern look that she didn’t dare ignore. Her breathing grew raspy as he ran the cloth roughly over her sensitive clitoris.

  “Soloman!” she cried out, reaching for his wrist and tugging on it uselessly.

  God, he fucking loved the way she said his name like that and the way her angel-like hands fluttered against his tattooed hand where it touched between her spread thighs. Soon she was moaning instead of protesting and her hips were moving restlessly with the maneuvering of his strong fingers against her flesh.

  “Oh god, oh fuck, I’m coming again!” she cried out, throwing her head back into the bed.

  “Fuck, yes,” he growled, watching every part of her move in beautiful supplication on his dark bedspread. He was going to keep this woman forever and make her come every day of her life so she couldn’t think about leaving him.

  She grabbed a fistful of her own hair as a keening cry left her full lips. A shudder rippled through her body and her hips stiffened against the washcloth as she came once more. He felt the gush of fluid as her body forced his semen from her tight channel. Fuck, he was going to come all over the bed just watching her. Instead, he quickly finished cleaning her up while she shuddered and moaned, turning her hot face into the pillows and closing her eyes in exhaustion.

  By the time he returned from the washroom she was sound asleep
, emitting the sweetest snores he’d ever heard. His cock was so hard he doubted he would get any sleep, but he crawled in next to her and pulled her limp body into the curve of his arm, cradling her head against his shoulder. Though it pained him to cover her nudity, he reached behind her and pulled a blanket over her body. He frowned. It was one of the first unselfish things he’d done in his life without expecting something in return. A simple act of kindness so she wouldn’t be cold. And she wasn’t even awake to appreciate it. He barely knew her and already Riley Bancroft was changing him.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  She was gone.

  He should’ve known, the first fucking chance she had, his little bird had flown the coop. Fuck. As soon as he got his hands on her he was going to beat her senseless, fuck her until she couldn’t walk, then he was going to lock her in a cage and teach her the meaning of staying where she was put. He couldn’t believe he had slept so hard that he’d missed her slipping out of bed and sneaking out of the bedroom. He never slept like that.

  Soloman didn’t bother with a shirt or underwear. He pulled on the same pair of jeans he wore the day before, tugged them up his thighs and zipped them. He took the stairs two at a time, pulling his phone out, intent on calling in backup. Roman knew how to find people. The guy was a hunter with razor sharp instincts. It was eerie. The last thing he needed was Riley going to ground again.

  He was just about to hit dial when the smell of burnt bacon hit his nostrils.

  “What the fuck?” he growled as he strode into the kitchen. He stopped and took a moment to just gawk at his usually pristine marble setup.

  It. Was. Destroyed.

  There were five pans of varying shapes and sizes in complete disarray spread all across his counters. One of the lids was on the floor. There was a bag of flour, also on the floor, but half dumped out, as though someone had tried to lift it onto the counter and realized they couldn't so just tilted it and missed the bowl. He was starting to suspect who that someone was. There were at least half a dozen eggs in various stages of cracking spread from the fridge to the sink. A carton of orange juice was laying on its side, with some of the contents dribbling lazily out.