Stolen Heir - Sophie Lark Page 0,76

curtains. My old teddy bear.

I cringe, picturing it. Would I feel at home there now? Or would I lay in that ruffled, narrow bed and think about the smell of stone and oil paint, dust and citrus, and the masculine scent of Mikolaj himself.

I know the truth already.

I’d miss this dark, old house, and the even darker man inside. I would feel drawn back here like one of Dracula’s victims, bitten and infected and compelled to come home.

Is it good to feel ensnared by a man? Probably not. This is probably sick and wrong on a hundred levels.

But it’s powerful and real all the same. I can’t fight it. I don’t know if I even want to.

All this time he’s been staring into my eyes, unblinking, infinitely patient. Waiting for me to make my choice.

There’s no choice to make.

It already happened, without me knowing it.

He captured me, and there’s no letting go.

I close my eyes and bring my lips up to his. I kiss him, gently at first. Then I taste his lips and his tongue, I breathe in his scent, and it’s gasoline on an open flame. I’m the wood, he’s the accelerant. No matter how much we burn, we’re never used up.

I’m straddling his lap, my hands holding his face, his hands holding mine. We’re kissing each other deeply, hungrily, like we could never be satisfied.

Then he’s picking me up and he’s carrying me out of the conservatory, across the main floor, and up the stairs to the west wing.

He carries me into his room like a bride across the threshold. Our lips are locked together all the time. Every breath I take comes out of his lungs.

He throws me down on the bed and I’m terrified, looking up at his wolfish face and gleaming eyes.

I want this. Just as badly as he does.

23

Miko

I throw Nessa down on the bed and I tell myself to go slow, to be gentle with her.

But it’s been weeks of waiting, weeks of longing.

I’ve held myself back a thousand times.

I can’t do it anymore.

She’s wearing one of those old-fashioned nightgowns—cream-colored lace, with a hundred tiny buttons down the front. I fumble with one button, then I grab the fabric in both hands and tear it open, ripping the nightie from neck to waist, baring Nessa’s delicate little breasts.

The lace is soft. Her breasts are a thousand times softer. I run my tongue up the curve of her chest, then close my mouth around her nipple. Her breasts are small enough that I can suck on much more than just the nipple—my mouth is full of her warm flesh, and I suck hard, kneading her other breast with my hand.

Nessa gasps. Her soft, startled cries are incredibly erotic. She’s like an animal caught in a snare. The more she calls out, the more it ignites my hunger.

I run my tongue over her breasts and throat. I lick her lips and delve my tongue deeply into her mouth.

And then I go down the length of her body, down to the place I’ve been dreaming about, day and night. I put my face between her thighs, and I inhale her scent. Her pussy is sweet like honey, flavorful like the ripest berry. Every woman’s scent is different. If Nessa’s could be bottled, it would be the cure to any limp dick in the world. There’s not a man on the planet who could catch a whiff of it without his cock raging back to life.

Her scent is intoxicating, unforgettable, addictive. From the moment I put my tongue between her legs, I wanted more of it.

I eat her pussy like a wild animal. I lick and nibble and thrust my tongue inside of her. Then I slide my fingers in, too, to see if she’s really as tight as I remembered.

God, even tighter. I tell myself again, Be careful. Don’t hurt her.

I can hardly control my own breathing. My heart is racing faster and faster. My pupils are dilating, my skin is burning. And my cock is begging to buried in that warm, tight, velvety cunt.

I used to feel about sex like I felt about sleeping—necessary, but a waste of time.

I want to fuck Nessa like it’s my destiny. Like it is the one and only thing I was created to do.

I use my fingers and tongue to get her as ready as possible. I wait until she’s soaking wet, until I can slide my index finger in and out of her with ease. I’m massaging