Kidnapped by the Billionaire(50)

"Welcome to the club, Gabe," his friend said dryly. "Isn't it wonderful having a sister?"



Violet woke with something large, hot, and extremely heavy lying on top  of her. It certainly wasn't the quilt, though that was pretty heavy. The  quilt wasn't breathing for one thing.

Sleepily, she opened her eyes. It took her brain a couple of seconds to  catch up with the fact that she wasn't in her own bed, though she felt  comfortable enough to be. And that she wasn't alone.

A thrill of fear went though her before she remembered.

Elijah.

She blinked and reoriented. She was in his room. In his bed. Which meant  that the heavy thing lying on top of her was likely to be six feet,  four inches of muscle-packed male. And sure enough, when she looked  down, a powerful arm was wrapped possessively around her waist, as  weighty and strong as iron chains.

It made her feel good, despite the near suffocation factor. As if he  didn't want to let her go. A dangerous thing to think about a man like  him, especially when he'd been very clear about what he was and was not  going to give her.

Ignoring the feeling, Violet twisted so she faced him and saw that he  was asleep, thick black lashes lying still on his sharp cheekbones, his  breathing slow and regular. He looked so much younger, his face relaxed  in sleep, all that seething, dark, cold menace hidden. Even  …   vulnerable, a word she'd never thought could be applied to a man as hard  as he was.

Except he hadn't always been Elijah Hunt. He'd once been a man called Kane, who'd been in love with his wife. Who'd lost her.

Violet followed the path of the scar on his face, her fingers itching to  trace it for some inexplicable reason. Maybe this man here, fast asleep  with his arm around her, was that Kane. A kinder, gentler man. A more  vulnerable man.

A scarred man.

She studied his face, fascinated all of a sudden. Where had he gotten  that scar? And the other ones, because there were lots of other ones.  She'd seen them last night as he'd kept her beneath him, or above him,  or in front of him, surrounding her with that hot hard body of his, that  equally hot, hard cock buried deep inside her. He hadn't let her touch  him though, no matter how much she'd begged. And she had begged,  pathetic damn woman that she was.

Her gaze dropped to the tattoo of the eagle on his chest, carrying the  heart dripping blood. And she couldn't help it this time, she got one  arm free and put her fingers on it. His skin was so smooth and hot, the  muscle beneath it hard.

She thought she knew what that tattoo meant. It was for his wife, wasn't it?

He loved her too much. Elijah's voice last night, blaming Kane. Blaming  himself. Which was stupid because, God, he hadn't known then what her  father was. How could he? Not even she'd known, and she'd been his  daughter.

Violet spread her hand out on his chest. He hadn't wanted to talk, yet  he'd given her that little piece of his own tragedy nevertheless. He'd  trusted her with it.

His heart beat heavy and strong beneath her palm and suddenly her breath  shivered in her throat, desire catching her like thorns in a bramble  bush. She wanted to touch him, taste his skin, have him moan in her ear  the way she'd moaned in his. Drive him as crazy as he'd driven her the  night before. Make her mark on him somehow before he let her go.

The thought made her glance away, down at her own body pressed hard and  tight against his. Examining the marks he'd left on her. The bruises  from his kisses and his teeth on her breasts and down further, on her  inner thighs. He'd probably left them on her throat too since that,  apparently, was a major erogenous zone for her, and he'd seemed to have  made it his mission to find out all those little places on her body that  made her gasp and burn.

Pity vice versa was a no go.

She let her fingers run down over the tattoo and further, across the  hard, sculpted muscle of his abs. He felt so good. Powerful and strong,  and yet so warm. This man wasn't cold, he was a goddamn bonfire.         

     



 

Her fingers brushed lower and she felt his abdominal muscles tense  beneath her fingertips. Okay, so did that mean he was awake now? But he  didn't move and he didn't speak, so she kept touching him, moving even  lower to the trail of hair that led down between his powerful thighs.  And lower still, her fingers moving over the smooth, hot skin of a very  impressive morning erection.

A shudder went through him as she curved her fingers around him, but still he didn't speak. Nor did he pull away.

She didn't look at him, sensing somehow that eye contact would break the  spell. That he'd end up pulling away or turning it back on her, and she  would have lost this chance. So carefully she kept her gaze on the  tanned skin of his chest, letting her fingers measure the length and  girth of him, stroking up and down his shaft then lightly circling the  sensitive skin around the head.

His breathing changed, becoming harsher, his body tensing against hers.

Violet circled his cock with her hand and squeezed lightly. She'd only  touched a man like this once before, and that had been Aaron, her one  and only boyfriend. They'd never slept together, though she'd gone down  on him a couple of times, a process that hadn't been all that successful  since Aaron had been so nervous of her father finding out, he'd found  it difficult to keep it up.

He'd been afraid with good reason as it turned out.

Elijah was different though. He'd never been afraid of her father and he  was a damn sight tougher, harder and more powerful than Aaron had ever  been. God, why did she find that so helplessly attractive?

Whatever the reasons, it was majorly hot and so was he. And she wanted to taste him. Right now.

Slowly, holding him tight in her hand, Violet bent to press her mouth to  his chest. The salty flavor of his skin made her shiver with delight  and she couldn't resist touching him with her tongue, licking him like a  cat.

Then before she knew quite what was happening, one large, warm hand came  to settle on the back of her head, his fingers curling into her short  hair, and he shoved her down.

Oh, so he was awake. Very awake.

His body shifted and she found herself lying between his thighs as he  sat up, his dick still held tight in her fist. Once again he didn't  speak, putting his other hand on her head, moving his grip until she was  held firmly between his hands, and there was pressure as he urged her  head down even further.

Her throat was dry and her heartbeat was speeding up, the ache of desire suddenly as sharp as her hunger.

It was very clear what he wanted her to do.

Obeying without thought, Violet gripped him tighter and opened her  mouth, circling the satiny skin of his cock head with her tongue. The  sharp hiss of his indrawn breath sounded in the quiet of the bedroom,  his hand moving again, fingers curling even tighter in her hair.

And oh Jesus, he tasted so good. Salty and musky and male. She closed  her eyes and began to explore him in earnest, licking his hard shaft  then circling once again the slick head.

He made a growling sound, deep in his throat, his hips flexing, pressing  his cock insistently against her lips so that she had no choice but to  open her mouth and let him inside. She shivered helplessly as he slid in  deep, pressing against the back of her throat. But she took him,  because this was what she'd been wanting to do since last night. Make  him feel good, take the pain away. And finally he was letting her.

It would have been better if he hadn't been the one in charge, but she  had a feeling that would always be the case with Elijah. He wasn't a man  who handed control to others, not even a little bit. So she'd have to  work with what she had and that, as it turned out, was quite a lot.

As he began to thrust into her mouth, she sucked him, licked him.  Squeezed him with her hand. And with her other hand, she began to stroke  him. His stomach, his thighs, and further, sliding to cup his balls,  then feeling them begin to tighten in her hand.

He made another deep, growling sound as she stroked them too, squeezing  the base of his cock, increasing the suction. His grip on her had  tightened, his breathing ragged and harsh.

"Fuck," he said finally, the word almost sounding like a prayer. "Fuck, princess."

And then he was thrusting harder, faster, and making short, rough sounds  as he fucked her mouth. Until he fell out of rhythm, his body abruptly  drawing so tight she thought he might break. Then he let out a low,  guttural roar as he came, his hips jerking, his fingers so tight in her  hair it was painful. She kept her eyes closed, her heart thundering as  she swallowed him down, feeling weirdly as though she'd won a victory of  some kind.

A strange, tense moment passed, his hands on her head, his cock still  semihard in her mouth, his body shuddering. Then he pulled her head away  from him and rolled to the side, putting his feet on the floor and  getting out of the bed.         

     



 

She blinked as he walked from the room without a backward glance.

Great. What had she done now? Had the blowjob been that crap?

But no, she knew it wasn't that. He was so guarded, so wary, and maybe  she'd managed to crack his defenses just then. And perhaps he'd walked  away so he could get them back up again.