Page 29 of Soul Mates: Hercules Valentine and I
Then his lips connect with mine in time to muffle my cries of ecstasy as the most pleasurable thing I’ve ever felt soars through me. His tongue is in my mouth as Hercules guides me flat on my back with him on top of me. I can’t stop whimpering because I can’t get enough of his kiss.
That sensation subsides.But mmm…He tastes so delicious. Like whatever cocktail he drank mixed with the flavor of Hercules.Mmm…
Our breaths shudder against each other. My eyes are closed, but I force them open. I want to see what he looks like when his tongue plunges deeper into my mouth and then swirls around mine, tasting me. I want to know what his eyes do when our lips pull at each other, sucking, quivering, and pressing.
I’m on sensory overload as he grinds my mound with the most magnificent erection. Our hands can’t get enough of each other. I’m so turned on. I’m insatiable. He’s so hard everywhere—his chest, his thighs, his abs, his back, andoh my God, his cock.
“Sweet,” he whispers and deepens our kiss. He’s rubbing his erection against me harder. A whimper of pure yearning escapes him, and I’m shocked that I’m the one who’s making him make that noise.
The hem of my shirt flies up, and the cup of my bra releases my breast. He seems to get harder as he stares at the slope of my tit with the hard nipple on top.
Hercules’s mutterings are indecipherable before my breast disappears into his mouth. The erotic sensation of wetness and warmth make me moan louder than I ever have in my life. His teeth scrape and bite the tip. More exotic sounds, formed at the back of my throat, push out of my mouth. Boyles doesn’t know how to do one percent of what Hercules is doing to me.
The car comes to a halt, and so does Hercules. He rips his gaze away from mine and checks out the window. Then he bends his neck to look at the bulge in his pants. I’m frozen, wondering if he’s suddenly sober enough to remember me or, even worse, if his judgement has returned. Maybe he’s thinking twice about picking up a random girl at the restaurant and bringing her to his place to do what we’ve been doing in the back seat of his car and more.
“What’s your name?” he asks.
My eyes expand. What was the name Eden gave me? “Tabatha.”Or am I Glory?
“Tabatha, do you still want to come up?”
“Yes,” I whisper like the wind.
“Okay, but I can’t promise you more than tonight. And it’s not personal. I just can’t, you know?”
Oh boy, do I know. “Okay.”
Here come his lips. When our mouths meet, the kissing takes on a different form. Our smooching is soft and sultry. It’s as if we’re rolling around together on a bed made of clouds, unable to quell our lust.
Chapter Thirteen
That Time When We…
Paisley Grove
Not in a million years will my parents ever let me live as posh as Hercules does. They don’t want me to become spoiled by having too much money and luxury at my disposal.
“When your brain finishes developing, we’ll let you have more,” my dad once said. He also said that’ll be when I’m at least twenty-six.
However, Hercules resides in a high-rise apartment with a one-hundred-eighty-degree view of the harbor. He’s also a college student with a private entrance to his place. And speaking of bachelor pad—the furniture is white with clean lines. A large white lambskin rug rests in front of a modern steel-paneled fireplace. White marble statues are placed on top of black onyx pillars. The atmosphere definitely feels like a sex trap. Max’s first penthouse in the city had similar decor. I wonder if I had my brother all wrong. Maybe he wasn’t as chaste as I thought he was.
I’m standing between the large kitchen and living room, hugging myself. I feel like a stray wet cat in the middle of a lonely road, wondering,What next?A confusing battle is taking place between my body and brain. Should I stay or go?
When we entered his apartment, Hercules teetered over to a half-empty bottle of vodka on the counter. He didn’t bother with a glass. He guzzled most of it from the bottle and then winced at the burn.
He seems nothing like the guy who saved me from a vicious fate. Despite the preview in the back of his car, I'm no longer sure I want to be with him in a sexual way. He looks so pathetic. And I'm not the kind of girl who engages in sex for kicks. I want to be made love to by the mighty Hercules Valentine and not the sad, sullen guy who’s drinking his blues away. Frankly, it took Boyles seven months to convince me to sleep with him. To get me to that point, he did a lot of wining and dining. He brought me flowers at least twice a week. Now that I think about it, Dandi would often roll her eyes at the bouquets or make a comment about how desperate Boyles must be to do that. On most days, he would show up outside my classroom to walk me back to the dorm. He gave me no indication that he would pull away after we had sex. At least Hercules warned me how he would go away after he got what he wanted. Boyles led me on, the asshole.
“I know how this must look,” Hercules says.
He’s studying me. I must appear conflicted. I didn’t know how expressive my face could look until Eden made a comment about it.
“Do you often drink a lot?” I ask.
“No.” He snorts a chuckle. “That’s probably why I’m a mess.” He sets the vodka bottle on top of the counter. “I don’t even like this—ya know—the way I am right now.” He makes a face as if whatever he’s tasting is sour. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want.”
I stare into his eyes, trying to figure out if he really wants me to go. However, I like that we’re engaging in a conversation. Talking to him still feels as easy as it did on our last day of high school.
“What’s wrong with you?” I ask.
