Paradise Found: Cain (Paradise #2)(41)

Oh God.

“One kiss.”

We’d kissed before, but somehow I sensed he meant something other than those impassioned kisses on his lawn or in his garage. I still could not move my head to acknowledge his request, so I remained still as his face drew closer. His breath mingled with mine, and I realized my morning breath was going to kill his mood. Sensing my distress, he spoke, “Just kiss me.”

His voice was so smooth, it wound its way inside me, slithering through my ear, and striking at my heart. My breath hitched, my mouth opened, and suddenly his lips met mine. It was tender but taking. He tugged and pulled at the bow and the curl of my mouth. He sucked and nipped, as if he was memorizing the shape, the taste, and the tip. His tongue licked slowly, lapping in an exaggerated drag that held me breathless and wanting, anticipating the invasion. It wasn’t an attack, though. He slipped inside a willful mouth that opened and breathed him in. Our tongues mated like coiling reptiles, languid and luscious in the curl and twist as we climbed one another.

His body had come to rest over mine, and his hands found their way to my hair. He loosened the twist I went to bed in, and my fingers found his shoulders.

“Hold onto me,” he breathed, adding a soft plea of, “please,” as his lips and tongue trailed down my jaw. The need in his kiss was so palpable; I felt it in every stroke over my skin. It wasn’t a desire for sex, but a desire for me. He wasn’t just kissing, but drawing over me, outlining the curve of my neck, the edge of my jaw. I reached up to wrap my arms around his neck, covering the back of his head with my hands, as he lowered to get a better angle on the juncture of shoulder to spine. He reversed the sketching under my ear and the moan that exulted from me was as great as a sound during sex. My hips rocked and he pushed the sheet down so that his body matched up to mine. With the force of my chest, I pushed forward, and he rolled us without breaking the connection of our lips that returned to each other. My thighs spread wide to straddle the breadth of him, and thin pajama shorts hit the hard length of steel wedged into those tight briefs. I rested on him, but my natural instinct was to grind against him. His hands came to my hip to still me.

“Kiss,” he muttered, flipping me over, to lie against the pillows. My legs were opened wide and the center of him thrust forward against me. If he only wanted to kiss, his tempting rhythm below told a different tale. I was like a waterfall, wet with need, moistening my underwear and his. The smell of desire fragranced the room. My hips rocked forward again. His heavy hand gripped my hipbone, which only reinforced the motion to press against him.

“Kiss,” he growled against my lips, as our tongues delved deeper. Sensing that his tongue in my mouth was the only intrusion I would receive, there was urgency to draw him in. His knee moved, and it spread me farther. He slipped his lower body back, and my hands slid down his solid back to cover his ass. He was round and firm, with tightened globes of perfected muscle that I pushed forward, meeting the tip of his extension against the moist center of me. We both groaned at the sensation and the building pressure. My hands retreated up his back, working fingers through the barely-there hair on his head. I couldn’t get enough of his mouth until he rocked against me, and I was brought back to the length of him, eager to enter me in another manner.

A soft knock on my door caused me pause. I ignored it, thinking I’d misunderstood the sound.

The knock came again.

“No,” Cain mumbled against my mouth. “Kiss,” he demanded. His mouth continued to work over mine, slowly drawing out each lip, then dipping his tongue to meet mine.

“Sofie?” A heavy Italian accent called my name and I froze. Cain moved to my jaw, then my neck. My voice squeaked as I called out: “Papa?”

I could feel Cain’s head shaking against my sensitive skin as he skimmed below my ear to my shoulder.

“Sofie …” I couldn’t focus on the Italian. I heard words that meant “rise” and “work.”

“Five minutes, Papa,” I called out.

“Ten,” Cain whispered, as he kissed my ear then traced it with the tip of his nose. It tickled and I shivered. He pressed the tip of his length against me again and my head fell back. I couldn’t respond to either man.

The Italian started again. Something about the devil will steal my day, and I stopped Cain with hands on his shoulders. He groaned and he released the weight of himself that covered me. His mouth muttered against my neck. He rolled us so I straddled him. I sat up, which only repositioned the pulsing center of me over the hardness of him. Each of his hands rested on my hips, and he dragged me back and forth over him.

My great grandfather spoke again.

“Bring the devil with you,” he sputtered in Italian. My hands held me upright on Cain’s chest, but I pressed my core down to reinforce the need to stop. Too late. I was going to tip over the edge.

“No,” he mouthed, moving me one more time.

“Oh, yes,” I whispered, then covered my mouth with my hand, suppressing the scream, as I clenched over him.





One final kiss was all I wanted, but one taste of her was never enough. Bringing her to orgasm from a kiss made me feel like a world champion. We dressed and exited her room to be met by a vineyard worker near the back entrance to the private residence.

“Franco, this is Cain Callahan,” Sofie introduced me. “He’s going to be working here today.”