He took her mouth in a deep, demanding kiss. His tongue moved against hers, again and again, and he angled his head to slide deeper still. Exploring her, possessing her. Relentless. He kissed her like a man who had rough, sweaty, dirty sex on his mind and didn’t care if she knew it.
Her breasts pushed full and firm against his chest, her nipples hard points he wanted to grip between his teeth while he fondled her soft flesh.
By the time he broke the kiss with a suckling taste of her lower lip, her breath was ragged. His own wasn’t particularly steady either—but he’d expected that, given the violent craving he’d had for her since the instant she walked into his office and their night together had just enhanced. “I want you in my bed,” he growled. “I want you now. Tomorrow. And the next day.”
“Yes.” Her arms went round his neck, and when his mouth found hers, she gave up holding back. She’d longed for him, the heat and excitement only he could make inside her.
He walked her back to the couch, stopping only long enough to strip and pull the shirt over her head and yank off her pants and the sinful lace underwear that covered what he wanted more. He tossed them aside, not caring where they landed, and sat with her in his lap.
He wanted all of her, all for himself. All of her weight over him, all of her heat against his body. He couldn’t stop touching her; his hands roved from her breasts down her thighs and back up again.
When he finally stopped kissing her, it was only to trail his lips down the smooth column of her throat, along the pulse point, feeling his own heart skip a beat, as he realized how quickly hers was pounding.
He groaned when she plumped up her breasts for him, serving up the feast, and dipped his head to suck one furled nipple into his mouth while he rolled the other between his fingertips. Luxuriating in the taste of her, he alternated between one luscious breast and the other, until she pulled at his hair.
“Now.”
He gave her a lewd smile. “Guide me in.”
Her pupils flared and then she rose on her knees, circling him with her fingers. She positioned him against her opening and arched down just enough that he slid in the barest inch.
He let out an anguished groan. He needed to be in her. He needed to slide into her damp heat. To drown himself in her scent. To be connected on the most basic level.
“Love me, Markus.”
I will. Flexing his hips and slamming her down on him, he drove in deep.
“Ah!” His implacable girth stretched and filled her to the edge of pleasure and pain. And she wanted it all. She sunk her teeth into his shoulder and began to move in a frantic rhythm.
Their lovemaking was animalistic. It was scorching passion. She demanded everything he had and more. He gave it all back, and he loved every second of it.
Her heart pounded with each of his hard shoves. Her sex spasmed with each pull of his mouth on her nipples. The heat coursed through her veins. She was too hot and it was so good. “Markus.”
He took her then, the fast, furious pace driving her into a vortex of ecstasy. Thrusting harder, faster, owning her. Her body tightened and jerked as her clitoris brushed against his groin, as his large penis slammed inside her. Again and again.
“That’s right, Hannah,” he encouraged, slipping his hand between them and circling her clitoris in rapid strokes, enhancing the need, demanding the pleasure. “Come hard for me.”
“Oh, God.” She gripped his biceps, her breath ragged. And everything was spinning and flying apart.
He fisted her hair and pulled her down. His mouth over hers swallowed her moans as she convulsed in his arms.
When she opened her eyes, he was still softly stroking her clitoris, kissing her breasts, licking her nipples, his cock hard and pulsing within her.
She languidly ran her fingers over her teeth marks on his shoulder. “I marked you.”
He’d wear her marks with pride. But she wouldn’t be without marks of her own. “I don’t think I can get enough of you.”
His voice was charged with passion and somehow it wrung another instant heated response from her. “Then take me again.”
She wanted more of him, needed more him as if she’d never had him. She ached inside so badly. Ached to be closer to him, as close as possible.
Desire raged in his eyes, intense longing just for her. He dropped his head back against the couch when she dipped her head to kiss her way down his throat, luxuriating in the lush weight of her on his thighs, the wet softness of her over his straining erection. Then she flicked her tongue over his nipple.
His hand squeezed down on her hip.
“What?”
“Stop teasing.” Markus’s hips jerked upward.
Hannah sucked his lower lip into her mouth.
“Keep doing that,” he murmured, “and I’ll have you kneeling between my legs sucking on something much harder.”
“Floor would be tough on the knees, Muffin,” she said, nipping his lip, a sensual punishment for words that might as well have come from some uncivilized barbarian.
He adjusted their position, laying her down on the couch and resting against her, his chest rubbing over her naked breasts, his erection hard as steel plunging in her, driving into her with powerful, punishing plunges.
He wrapped her hair around his hand, and kissed her with such ardor it felt like he was sucking her breath away. He wasn’t aware of anything but her. Only her. Writhing beneath him. Surrounding him with her sweetness. He smelled, heard, and tasted her.
He kissed and petted and fucked her until she couldn’t bear the intensity of the pleasure. His scent, his taste, the feel of his weight upon her, it was so all-consuming. He drove her up, soared with her to heights of elation she’d never known and eased her fall back to earth. For the first time, she had a true notion of what it meant to be taken. To be conquered.
“Markus!” she cried out. Her fingers gripped his shoulders and she shuddered violently beneath him.
He gathered her in his arms and let out a shout of his own, his own release thundered over him, arcing down his spine in a lightning bolt.
The next thing he knew he was flush against her, all his weight atop her body. It felt so damn good even though he knew he had to be crushing her. But she wasn’t complaining. In fact, she was wrapped so tightly around him that he couldn’t have moved if he wanted to. The tips of her breasts imprinted against his chest, her legs circling his waist. Possessing. Making him hers.
His heart beat frantically and his lips trembled at her temple when he placed a kiss there.
He had spilled himself inside her, but he couldn’t condemn himself for that.
Not when his blood had been seared with the liquid burn of pleasure.
Not when his eyes opened to find a woman with emerald-green eyes under him, cupping his face with loving hands.
Not when, for the first time in forever, his heart told him he was home.
CHAPTER 25
Monday, October 13, 2014
Markus Blackthorn’s penthouse
7:00 a.m.
He stood for a long moment at his bedroom window watching the sunrise wash away the last of the darkness. It was a time in the day where he gathered his thoughts and organized them for the day. Today, he didn’t care if he didn’t accomplish a single task.
What he’d experienced in the past had been so lacking compared to what Hannah gave him—it was as if he’d been eating all his life without ever having been hungry or ever having tasted a morsel. Now he starved. And feasted.
Hannah stretched languidly and opened her eyes to find Markus standing by the window, the curtains opened just a fraction.
God, he’s sexy. Those shoulders, the tapered waist, that firm butt… Here was this man, a fierce tycoon, a sought-after bachelor, a handsome male, and he was completely and utterly at her mercy. She held his pleasure, his pain, his satisfaction in her very hands.
He taught her a whole new meaning to the word stamina. He twice took her quickly and furiously, and
then slowly, gently. And it began all over again. And again. She hadn’t realized a man could exert such control over his own body. That he could delay his own release so long and so well.
“Morning.”
Looking back to Hannah, he caught her gazing at him in the way she sometimes did, as though she thought she could read him. Nobody could read him. Save her. This woman—this beautiful, all-too-perceptive woman—had unraveled him in days, and he was left at loose ends.
To her surprise, he seemed unsure of himself, he looked so much like the vulnerable child he must have once been, and she wanted nothing more than to hold him close.
Love him.
She felt a warm bubble bleed in her chest, spill and liquefy through her body with a singular and instant yearning. She wanted this man, wanted him suddenly more than anything or anyone she had ever wanted in her life.
“Good morning.” He ran a hand through his hair and smiled at her.
His arms came around her an instant later and he kissed her. Before he could swallow the words, they were out of his mouth. “I find you distracting.”
“Me? Why?”
Because it had been her who’d made the dark hole in his chest even bigger and it was her who’d filled it with light. She was chaos to his order, warmth to his cool. Their hearts would meet in the middle somehow. “Because you…”
She gave a lift of her brows as his words came to a halt. “I, what?”
He was silent for so long that Hannah began to fear he was not going to answer. Then with obvious reluctance, he forced himself to complete his confession. “You make me feel.”
“I make you feel what?” she whispered, tracing his handsome features with the tip of her finger.
“Everything. All at the same time.”
She blinked in confusion. “I’m afraid that’s a little broad, Markus.”
“You make me happy, and furious, and passionate, and terrified. Lost. I am not accustomed to such sensations and they’re troubling.” His fingers tightened on her nape and his dark gaze drifted over her upturned face framed by luscious red hair and down to her pert breasts. This woman is temptation incarnate. Through gritted teeth, he said, “I do not entirely like them.”
Oh, Markus. She rolled her eyes, trying for some levity. “Muffin. Emotions aren’t something you like or dislike. They just are.”
“So I am discovering, Cupcake,” he murmured with a curl of his lips.
“I feel, too. I feel good around you.” It surprised her to say it aloud, to give him—or anyone—even so slight an advantage. “Very good.”
“I’m glad.” Delighted with her, he let her revert their positions and straddle him down, raining kisses over his face. He understood that such an admission, for her, was tantamount to a shouted declaration of love from other women.
“Now I have you right where I want.”
He shot her a lazy, sinful smile. “And now that you have me, what are you going to do about it?”
“Use you, of course.” She bit down, none too gently, on his bottom lip and ran her hands over his chest. “You do have a terrific body.”
“Hmm.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “You know, Hannah? I’m also discovering that there are some emotions I like very, very much.”
New York Family Court
11:00 a.m.
Down the hall and behind a closed door, a child screamed, “I want mommy, I want mommy.”
Family Court was a sad, surreal place where children, the overlooked casualties of the wars between parents, gave voice to their pain and heartache, while adults battled mostly for their own interests. The contempt they held for each other screamed its way from the mouths of little kids.
The walls and floors were scuffed. The ceiling was a low patchwork of industrial foam squares. There were no windows to the outside.
“The saddest place in New York,” Markus whispered to himself as he walked by about thirty people sitting on benches, wearing the vaguely taxidermied look of those who expect to wait for a very long time.
“It merits the infamous moniker,” answered his divorce attorney, Genevieve Fiero.
Nicola was already standing outside the courtroom, along with her attorney, Brandon Garrison, leafing through papers a few feet away.
“Markus!” she whined when he was near enough to hear, then scowled as she looked Genevieve up and down. “This is completely unnecessary. We don’t need to go before the judge just because I was sick a few times.”
“A few times? I’m done playing games with you. Victoria isn’t a pawn or a bargaining chip—”
Genevieve put a hand on Markus’s arm and said sternly, “Mr. Blackthorn, I don’t advise—”
Nicola’s attorney looked up from the papers he was studying, but didn’t move from his place. Markus didn’t know if he thought as his own attorney did—that this should be dealt with only in the courtroom—or if he wasn’t all that interested. The meter was running and he was getting paid no matter the outcome.
“We do have an agreement, Markus. Let’s just work together and talk this through.”
“Talk? That might be interesting since you wouldn’t be able to hang up on me now, huh? And when I pleaded with you to talk to me, what was it you said before the elevator doors closed? I could talk to your attorney?” Markus hissed at her, struggling to keep his temper in check. Since they’d separated, it was as if Nicola had developed an uncanny ability to anger him with record-breaking speed. “After all these years, you still haven’t got a clue about who it is exactly you’re fucking with.”
“Sir, I have to insist.” Genevieve grabbed Markus by the arm and pulled as she began walking away from Nicola. “If the judge hears you talking to her that way, you’re going to blow what should be an automatic ruling in our favor. Understood?”
Markus exhaled forcefully through clenched teeth and nodded his assent as he stared at a point in the distance. “I’m sorry.”
His cell phone vibrated. He pulled it out of his suit pocket and smiled when he saw Jones’s message.
Ms. K’s debt is settled. Call me later. Interesting development.
The sound of a metal lock sliding broke through his thoughts a moment later and he turned around to see a bailiff open the courtroom door.
“Markus Blackthorn versus Nicola Gonzales,” the portly bailiff announced.
Minutes later, after everyone had taken seats, the judge, Honorable Rachel Moore, an old, short, thin, wrinkled, sour faced African-American woman, was introduced, the case was called, and the attorneys confirmed that all parties were present.
Genevieve verified that everyone had a copy of the motion she had filed and then addressed the judge, “Your Honor, the parties divorced with an agreement to share custody of the minor child Victoria Blackthorn, but over the last several months this has become problematic as the respondent has repeatedly and unreasonably denied the plaintiff the agreed upon parenting time. Reasons given have included such things as the respondent ‘not feeling well’ or ‘it’s not a good time’ and ‘I have a lot to deal with right now.’ Attempts to schedule make-up time are cut short as the respondent typically and abruptly terminates phone calls. As the father-daughter relationship is adversely impacted by sustained denial of parenting time, the plaintiff requests a modification of custody to joint legal and physical custody, with the change effective next Monday, upon your favorable ruling. Mr. Blackthorn will assume all expenses and take responsibility for 100% of travel to and from, as he has since the divorce. This is more than fair, Your Honor, and places no burden on the respondent.”
The judge nodded her head slowly as she listened. As Genevieve concluded, the Honorable Rachel Moore appeared to write a note, then looked to Nicola’s attorney. “Considering the previous allegations resulting in the supervision order from the original decree, I expect the mother to object to unsupervised joint custody.”
Nicola began to stand up to speak when her attorney put his hand on her shoulder and guided her back down.
/> “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t approve. Nothing has changed.”
Brandon shushed her then smiled at the judge. “Sorry, Your Honor. And I’d like to point out that we’re sorry for unnecessarily taking up your time today. We feel that there’s been a misunderstanding and that the parties can resume the original agreement without impinging on the court to make a ruling today. Ms. Gonzalez has had some difficult times recently, but that is no longer the case.”
The judge leaned back in her chair and said, “Is that so, Mr. Garrison? And what assurances does Mr. Blackthorn have that there will be no further difficulties without the force of a court order to ensure that he and his daughter will have time together?”
“Prior to three months ago, there had never been a problem. It’s reasonable to assume that the parties can return to that former state of affairs. They both have the child’s best interests in mind, Your Honor.”
Markus snorted and received a stern disapproving look from Genevieve, who stood. As the judge acknowledged her, she stated, “If it pleases the court, my client will only feel confident that his daughter will not be deprived of the invaluable time with her father if Your Honor makes it a legal requirement. He has no faith in Ms. Gonzalez’s word. And for the record, we continue to deny the original allegations of him being unfit as unsubstantiated and groundless.”
Nicola whispered something to her lawyer.
He stood up as soon as Genevieve had sat down. “Your Honor, my client has just informed me that she has new concerns that didn’t exist at the time of the divorce. She has a very serious concern about the possibility that Mr. Blackthorn will expose their child to violence. She only impinged on visiting time in an effort to protect their daughter.”
The judge leaned forward. “An allegation of violence is a serious accusation. Do you have evidence or a witness to the plaintiff engaging in such acts, particularly in the presence of the child?”
Brandon whispered to Nicola, “Do you have proof?”
She whispered back, “Well, there was something in the newspapers about him almost killing a guy at Blackthorn Medical. I can try to find one of his employees to testify.”