DISBELIEF
VICTORIA HARPER
Copyright © 2017 by VICTORIA HARPER All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
CONT ENT S
Foreword
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Epilogue
1 40
About the Author
43
1. DISBELIEF
FOREWORD
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F OR EW O R D
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DISBELIEF
“
W
e are the purveyors of our own destinies. We are those who stand tall and steadfast. Never underes‐ timate your own power, ladies; and above all, never put your happiness on the backburner!”
Even though Mariah heard the tumultuous cheer that followed her speeches almost weekly, she never failed to be astounded by the power. Women. Hundreds of women packed into a meeting hall or a convention center-all here together. As a women, she knew how isolated one could feel without girlfriends-without people to talk to and bounce ideas off of. More intimately, there were precious few places in which women could completely and totally be themselves. Mariah held these rallies to bring women together and create safe spaces for women to be their natural selves.
To go wild.
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Mariah knew very well the reputation she had. Girlfriends and wives bought tickets to her events and their significant others immediately thought they were meeting up to burn bras and paint whatever town she was in red with feminist intent and sheer craziness.
The truth, really, was nothing so extreme. Mariah only had one goal in life, and that was to help women discover their own importance. Part of that importance was a few of those crazy nights, certainly, but there was so much more to it than that. Self-discovery, self-care, nurturing, and most importantly, self-pleasure.
Since she had really and truly discovered her own self-worth, Mariah had never been afraid to talk about any of these things. In fact, she reveled in them. It had taken her decades to realize that she didn’t need a man to define her or to bring her divine pleasure.
If she were honest with herself, Mariah could admit that part of her inspiration came from pure bitterness. When she was twenty years old and tired of being dumped by every guy that decided she was too much for him, tired of being underwhelmed every time she hopped into bed with someone of the opposite sex . . .
Mariah had grown up in a household with parents unenthusiastic about explaining the ways of the world. Her father left it to her mother to explain the birds and the bees, and his wife directed their daughter to a number of books that failed to explain everything. As a result, by the time the young woman was sexually active, she wasn’t quite sure what to expect. While she understood the mechanics she was woefully unenlightened about compatibility and passion.
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Was it any wonder, then, why her love life had been a mess?
Her parents’ marriage had fallen apart before she was sixteen, so where was her point of reference? She could hardly look at her peers. Teenage love was, in many ways, hopeless and dysfunctional. It was blind and completely naive.
After immature boyfriend number four, Mariah gave up on romance to focus on herself-and it was the best thing she could have done. After years of questioning herself and her own inadequacies, it felt good to let go. To cease caring about everything and everyone else.
Slowly but surely, Mariah had learned what she liked. How to treat herself, her body, and most importantly, her mind. She found a peace she wanted to share with other women-and that was the beginning of her journey.
Now, here she was, in front of hundreds, teaching women to value themselves.
“Miss West! Can I get your signature, Miss West?”
“I loved your book, Mariah. Best thing I’ve read in twenty years.”
“You’re an inspiration, Mariah. I’d love to have you on the show! Here’s my contact info.”
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They clamored to speak with her, and Mariah wished she could clone herself to assuage them all. As things stood, she had a long day ahead. She would speak to as many people as she could, and then she had to speak again that evening. There were books to be signed, meetings that awaited her attention, and then the hundreds upon hundreds of people who wanted merely to shake her hand.
Once upon a time, Mariah feared the fame would go to her head, but as the years passed, her elation never faded. She would always be grateful that she had helped a single woman, let alone thousands. As long as that humility stayed with her, she would continue to do what she did without a shred of guilt. After all, the money was secondary to the sense of fulfillment that eased her into slumber every night.
It was well past midnight by the time Mariah made it back to her hotel suite. The moment she stepped inside, she fought the urge to collapse on the sofa nearest the door. Instead, she kicked off her shoes and made a beeline for the expansive bathroom and a hot shower. Mariah caught a brief glance of herself in the mirror as she turned on the water and groaned. She certainly looked like she’d been through the mill.
Her dark hair was mussed from its careful updo, her makeup long since worn off to reveal the pale skin beneath. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a proper night’s sleep, and so a quick scrub of her face revealed dark circles beneath bright blue eyes. She could, Mariah knew, stand to lose a pound or two, but there would be plenty of time for that. In this moment, she could appreciate the warmth her curves lent her in snowy Washington State. There was, in fact, a snowstorm scheduled for the next day, which meant she wouldn’t be able to leave for California until the weekend.
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A little sun and sand would be welcome after the below freezing temperatures of her current locale.
Within minutes, steam fogged up the bathroom mirror as she shed her clothing piece by piece. There were few days when she had been more grateful for a shower than today, and she knew from personal experience that her bed was both soft and inviting.
She would sleep soundly tonight.
It took less than half an hour for the hot water to ease the soreness from Mariah’s muscles. When she stepped from the bathroom, she felt boneless, ready for the long stint of unconsciousness that beckoned.
Which was why it was so surprising that she had a visitor.
At the sight of the long, masculine figure seated at the edge of her bed, Mariah froze, her eyes widening slightly. Had she fallen asleep in the shower? That was the only reason she could give for why there might be a man in her room.
The young woman took in the intruder for almost a full minute, her mind struggling to comprehend what lay before her. How had he gotten in? Certainly, she would have heard the door open, even over the shower; but with no key, how the hell had he opened the door?
But those questions, of course, were only the tip of the iceberg. Mariah had a thousand more queries, like who the hell was this guy
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and why was he in her room in the first place. Under the circum‐ stances, she should have been reaching for a lamp or a chair-anything in the vicinity that might help her defend herself.
But, instead, Mariah found she could only stare.
Her visitor was unexpectedly attractive, and besides that, only halfdressed. Even seated as he was, she could tell he towered well above six feet, and his skin was somehow tanned a deep caramel despite Washington’s recent lack of sun. His mouth was far too full for any man, yet surprisingly alluring against his chiseled jaw and impeccable bone structure. All in all, he might have been pretty if it weren’t for the rough layer of dark stubble that covered him from nose to neck. That, and the luscious, if unkempt, fall of raven hair that framed his face was enough to give any woman pause.
That was, if they managed to get past that bare, chiseled chest, and the glint of the silver ring that adorned one dark nipple.
Oddly, that little flash of metal was enough to make Mariah’s breath catch. A piercing, of all things. This man looked far too old to be indulging in such things. She herself had just turned thirty and he had a few years on her . . .
But that was beside the point. Mariah forced herself back to the present, her expression hardening. She took a step back into the doorway of the bathroom before speaking in a surprisingly threat‐ ening tone.
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“I don’t know who the hell you are, or how you got in here, but you need to find your way out.”
In response, her visitor merely arched a single dark brow with an expression of wry amusement. “Oh? You are the bold one, aren’t you?”
Mariah’s brow furrowed in confusion. She, the bold one? He was the one who had broken into her damn hotel room! “If you don’t go . . .” She edged further back into the bathroom, reaching for the ornate dish that held her toiletries. “I’ll call the front desk.”
It was a weak threat, but she managed to inject malice into it. After all, Mariah made her living inspiring emotion in people with her words. She was pretty sure she could frighten one intruder, no matter how big he might be. In the moment Mariah expected to grab the dish, she found her fingers clutching at empty air.
“Cruel, little one. Amazingly cruel.”
Mariah whirled so quickly she almost lost her balance. When the hell had this guy moved? And more importantly, how had he moved? She’d just been staring at him on the bed, and now, he was in the bathroom dangling the dish she wanted just beyond her fingertips.
In that moment, Mariah realized that her estimation had certainly been correct-the man towered above her mere five feet eight inches, and she couldn’t remember the last time she felt so small. “How did you . . .?” The words fell from her mouth before she could stop them, but her inquiry only earned a small, secretive smile.
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“I couldn’t very well let my meal assault me. I’d never hear the end of it.”
His meal? It wasn’t enough that some crazy, hot guy had found his way into her room; he had some fucked up plan for her too?
But Mariah hadn’t gotten to where she was in life by letting people walk all over her. Since the intruder was behind her, that meant the path to her phone was clear. Without hesitation, she bolted for the bedside table, heedless of her towel slipping to the floor in a wet heap. When she dove, grabbing for the cell she knew she’d dropped on the table, she cursed to find only the notepad and complimentary water that had been there when she first checked in.
Her phone! Where the fuck was her phone!?
“I have to commend you, really. Two attempts in under two minutes.”
A sound like a shriek left Mariah’s lips as she turned to see the man lying on the bed behind her, head cradled on absurdly defined arms. Her phone was clutched in one of his hands, and, at the sight of it, her eyes widened in shock.
What the almighty fuck!?
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DIS B EL IEF
He was much too close to her; that low baritone of his entirely too gravelly for his own good and Jesus Christ how the hell did he move so fast? When Mariah attempted to leap from the bed, a powerful arm caught her around the waist and hauled her back against the strange man and a frustrated curse of outrage left her. “Let me go!”
“Shhh. You’ll make a commotion.” At his admonition, Mariah only struggled harder. Making a commotion was the fucking point. Maybe someone would hear her and come arrest this weirdo!
. . . the weirdo whom she was currently naked and defenseless against. Mariah swallowed thickly as her still damp body slid over his. The man had absolutely no fat on himhe could have been made of solid steel for all the give she felt. There was, however, one prominent part of him that was vastly harder than the rest, and Mariah was shocked at the heat that blossomed through her alongside her fear.
When she opened her mouth to scream for help, a weathered palm smacked flush against her mouth. “Mariah, Mariah . . .” This time, his voice was against her ear and an almost violent shudder ripped through her. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
How the hell did he know her name? Was he some crazed fan? It was more likely that he was the boyfriend or husband of one of her fans, angry that she had stolen away his significant other with her “delu‐ sions of feminine grandeur.”
Well, he was in for a surprise. Mariah wouldn’t go easily. She would not let him touch her. Not if she could help it. “You’re being difficult,” the intruder commented, off-handedly. He might have been bringing
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in the laundry if it weren’t for the enormous erection he sported. “I’ve half a mind to gag you, but that wouldn’t be very much fun for either of us.”
Like hell he would.
Mariah aimed a sharp elbow at his abdomen, only to find herself flipped flat on her back with a not-insubstantial weight pinning her against the mattress. A pair of odd-colored eyes caught hers, and Mariah herself wondering why the hell those eyes were so mesmeriz‐ ing. They were dark, almost black . . . no, they were green. Or were they some strange sort of crimson? She couldn’t decide. All she knew was that she couldn’t look away. “Now, that’s better, isn’t it?”
It wasn’t. Mariah wanted to hit him, to struggle-to fight back. She found, however, that her body wouldn’t respond to her commands. In her stillness, she couldn’t help but be aware of the body pressed flush against hers. Her wrists were pinned above her head in an iron grip, the suddenly hard tips of her breasts rasping against the smooth, heated chest. The hardness she’d felt before now jutted intimately against her--far too intimately--considering only the threadbare jeans he wore remained between them.
This was not arousing in the least. He snuck into her room, trapped her in her goddamned bed . . . but her body didn’t seem to agree with her mind’s singular point of view. Her nipples were so tight they throbbed against his chest, and the folds between her legs grew slicker by the second. “What . . . what do want?” Her chest was oddly tight, and Mariah struggled to pit her rage against the heat that threatened to consume her.
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The man above her smirked. “I would think that’s obvious.”
Mariah’s eyes narrowed in distaste even as her assailant’s eyes flashed from deep purple to honey. Why couldn’t she throw him off? It had nothing to do with physical strength, though he certainly had enough of that. There was something deeper going on here. “Well I don’t want.”
“You sure about that?” His tone was mocking, as if he knew some‐ thing she didn’t. “You’re so wet I can almost taste it.”
Mariah’s eyes widened in a curious mixture of outrage and arousal. “You’re doing something to me!” He chuckled darkly, the sound sending another shiver through her-a shiver born of something far from revulsion. “What am I doing to you?”
“I don’t fucking know!” she snapped, still hypnotized by those strange eyes of his. “Something!”
“Mariah, I have hardly begun where you’re concerned.” With that sultry promise, the man released her hands. Her first impulse, of course, was to reach up and shove his weight from her, but her arms refused to move. The infuriated realization on her face only seemed to further amused him. “Get off!”
“I intend to,” he chuckled. “Profusely.”
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Mariah shook her head even as her body arched greedily against his. A prickle of fear had begun to join the melee of feelings warring within her. She had no idea what was going on. Why couldn’t she move? How could this man take advantage of her so easily? And-most shocking of all--Why did she want it so much?
It had been years since she wanted a man. There was nothing she couldn’t do with her trusty vibrator and a few other toys she brought everywhere with her. She’d read enough books and attended enough seminars to teach other women how to attain their own pleasure as well. She’d written a book about self-attaining the “Mind Blowing Orgasm.” At age thirty, she was pretty certain she would never need a man again.
But this man . . . he drove her body haywire effortlessly, and it was more than a little intimidating.
“Calm yourself, Mariah. I mean you no harm.” The words might have been calming if Mariah weren’t having trouble breathing. She was, she realized with embarrassment, having a panic attack.
Her captor noticed almost as soon as it started, and his formerly wry grin gave way to a scowl of concern. “Breathe, woman. Deep breaths.”
Easier said than done. Mariah couldn’t remember the last time she had lost control of her life. She didn’t want to. The man atop her, however, wasn’t content to let her lose herself to her building anxiety. “Breathe.”
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With that command, he molded his mouth to hers, forcing her to concentrate on the kiss. Almost immediately, Mariah stopped breathing for a precious few seconds. He was kissing her? What the hell kind of assailant kissed his victims?
Kissed them slowly and sensually, tongue sliding across her lower lip to tease her mouth open for him. All it took was a long, lingering suck of her lip for Mariah’s breath to come rushing back in a soft, surprised moan of pleasure. As her assailant’s hands slid down her sides to curl around her hips, Mariah found herself kissing him back. Her tongue tangled with his as low, needy sounds escaped her and the heat between her legs grew to unbearable levels. She lifted her hands to thread through the inky black hair that curtained around them andHer hands. She could move them! She broke the kiss to stare at the man above her, shocked. In turn, he arched a brow that challenged her to misbehave. “Don’t make me regret it.” In a perfect world, Mariah might have had a smart comment, but instead, she merely found herself reaching for him to draw his mouth against hers once more. She was hungry for him. Hungry in a way she couldn’t remember being ever.
She hadn’t kissed anyone in years-she might have forgotten how it felt; she might have, if it weren’t for him.
Whoever he was. Mariah’s fingers slid against his scalp as she pressed him closer to her naked form, wanting to feel all of him against all of her. The longer their mouths mingled, the more frantic the kiss became. What had started as a gentle gesture was soon a savage
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joining of teeth, tongues, and lips, and Mariah found she needed to pull away to gasp for air.
What the hell was he doing to her?
“What . . .”
Any attempt to ask her question ceased the moment the man growled “I’m starving” against her neck; a moment later he bit hard enough that pain spiked the carnal pleasure that jolted through her. Instead of shoving away, however, Mariah found she only wrapped a leg posses‐ sively about his waist to bring him more flush against the persistent ache between her thighs.
Because she was starving, too.
Mariah gasped as the man atop her blazed a trail of sucking, needful kisses down the column of her neck; he took two great handfuls of her behind to rub his prominent erection against her growing slick‐ ness. The rough texture of the fabric was enough to make her cry out softly. Mariah arched indulgently thrusting her breasts into the air and into the perfect position for her lover’s ravenous mouth.
And he was her lover. There was no way this would be over until she had him deep inside her-until they were both completely spent.
When his mouth closed over her straining nipple, Mariah inhaled sharply, and her fingers immediately thrust through his hair to keep
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the hot, divine suction centered where she needed it most. Dear God, had pleasure ever felt like this? Mariah never had a problem bringing herself to orgasm-coming until she was left breathless and boneless for hours afterward.
But what this stranger was doing to her was different. The pleasure he sent spiking through her system was deeper, more jarring-over‐ whelming in its intensity. He was far more experienced than any man, any partner, she’d ever been with, and she couldn’t quite put her finger on the reason why.
Perhaps it was sheer enthusiasm. When he said he was starving, he was being completely honest. The intruder suckled and mouthed at the dark peaks of her breasts with such fervor that Mariah soon couldn’t decide. Did she want more or did she want to tug him away. The contradiction weighed heavy and low in her belly, mingling with the liquid lust there to make her squirm in pure, unadulterated need.
“Yes . . .” he groaned against her damp, puckered skin, “More . . .” Mariah yelped as he tugged at her nipple with his teeth before soothing it with a flick of his tongue that made her writhe. Jesus Christ, he was devouring her.
When one hand slid between her legs to find her inner thighs slick with her own juices, a satisfied, masculine sound escaped him. His low growl rumbled through her ribcage as his mouth trailed lower, over the flat expanse of her belly. Every press of his lips was followed by a sweet, brief nip of his teeth that threatened to drive her out of her mind, and then his fingertips found the swollen bud of her clit, and Mariah’s hips all but flew from the bed.
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She tried to speak, to tell him to stop. She was far too sensitive, even if she hadn’t ever been quite so on edge before. But the intruder gave her no such opportunity. The pads of his thumb and forefinger slid almost brusquely over the most sensitive part of her, and Mariah shrieked as her pleasure crested before crashing over her with the force of a tidal wave.
She was so lost in her own completion that it took a few moments to realize that she had finished. It had taken a single stroke against her to make her come. If she had the wherewithal, she might have been embarrassed. Instead, she merely lay there as her inner muscles continued to contract spasmodically, hungry for more.
Above, her lover’s eyes slid closed almost as if he were savoring the heat she emanated. Mariah watched, transfixed, as he pulled his lower lip taut between his teeth, lingering in his position on locked arms for almost a full minute before he finally looked down at her once more. His expression had her gushing within seconds.
“Delicious.”
How the hell did he make it sound like he could actually taste her?
Mariah didn’t have time to linger on the question. When the intrud‐ er’s mouth returned to her belly, she gasped, her stomach muscles contracting involuntarily. The man was headed southward on an obvious mission, and Mariah was both nervous and elated. If he could make her come apart with a single touch, what on earth could he do with his tongue?
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Using what little strength she had left, she attempted to escape. She flipped onto her left side. She gripped at the edge of the bed, pulling herself toward it. The man atop her, however, only snarled his displeasure, using the leverage she’d already created to shove her onto her knees before yanking her back toward him. Mariah landed on her stomach with little, if any, grace. The only thing that kept her from sprawling across the bed was her lover’s iron grip on her hips. He had settled himself between her thighs, beneath her lower half, and wasted no time taking advantage of the delights his position afforded him.
When his mouth closed over her slick lower folds, the young woman inhaled sharply, grasping at any and everything she could. His tongue was like pure silk, lapping at her with a feverish hunger that stole her breath and made her thighs quiver dangerously. Mariah’s nails curled into the nearest pillow with enough force to rip the fabric as she buried her face in the coverlet to keep from waking the whole goddamn hotel.
He was a demon. An absolute anathema . . . everything that was fucking wrong with the world and it was so good. Mariah made sounds she didn’t know she was capable of every time his tongue stroked her drenched seam. When he fastened onto her clit to suckle fiercely, she all but wailed into the pillow, her toes curling in delecta‐ tion. She pressed her core flush against his ravenous mouth shame‐ lessly, grinding against him with a fervor that might have intimidated lesser men. It spurred him to greater heights.
He sucked and lapped at her, mouthing her between the legs almost roughly until Mariah incredibly found herself on the precipice of another orgasm. Reaching down, she tangled the fingers of a single hand in her lover’s hair, her grip tight enough, no doubt, to create a
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bald patch or two. When his tongue slid into her, long and impossibly dextrous, Mariah came apart.
Her orgasm rolled over her powerfully; her scream muffled in the sheets as her entire body trembled uncontrollably. She could still feel each lazy stroke of her lover’s tongue as he paid homage to her through her completion until she was nothing but a shuddering mess against the coverlet, her toes almost certainly permanently curled.
Mariah barely had the strength to move, let alone protest, as she was masterfully flipped onto her back to stare up at the man who had ruined her. He was, quite literally, a cat in cream, his tongue swiping her leavings from his full mouth with relish. His eyes swept over her from head to foot, and, in that moment, Mariah somehow felt like a goddess. “You, Mariah . . .” he rasped, his voice thick with lust, “are absolutely decadent.”
It was a trope, something meant to make her feel special, and she shouldn’t have played into it. But instead of rebuffing him, Mariah only reached for him, tugging him down atop her once more. “Fuck me.” She might have lost her mind, but she needed him inside her more than she needed her next breath.
“Feed me.” He countered against her mouth, kissing her so she could taste herself on his tongue. Mariah didn’t know when the hell he’d gotten his pants off, but the next thing she knew, his not-insubstantial erection was pressing up against her. When the head of his cock nudged against her lower lips, Mariah’s eyes widened as a breath hissed from her. He was much larger than the toys she usually used on herself, and, for a split second, she wondered if he would even fit.
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And then there was no wondering. The man cleaved inside her in a single, huge thrust that snatched a hoarse cry from her throat as her body took him in eagerly. Even if her mind hadn’t been certain, the ache inside her clamored to be filled, and her lover did just that.
He groaned as she clenched tightly around him, his teeth sinking into her shoulder as he pressed even deeper within her. Mariah’s finger‐ nails raked down his back forcefully enough to leave marks and she swore she could feel him in the back of her throat.
It was delicious.
The young woman arched, cursed, and took every inch he gave her, hips rising to meet his in a mindless litany of wet, chaotic pleasure. She clutched at his shoulders, his back, his chiseled behind, anything to give her purchase as he fucked into her with quick, powerful thrusts that threatened to steal what was left of her rational mind.
Mariah had never had sex like this-not even with herself. Nothing came close to the raw passion with which her lover took her, biting and sucking at her neck as if he really could gain sustenance from her. Within minutes, Mariah’s body was in spasms, she was coming again, helplessly and powerfully.
But that wasn’t enough to make this man stop.
While he slowed, her lover didn’t stop the motion of his hips against hers. On the contrary, his strokes became deeper, the angle touching a spot within her that made Mariah see stars. At some point, she came
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so hard she couldn’t stop shaking, and a sound somewhere between a gasp and a laugh of sheer delight escaped her.
He gave her no quarter.
Mariah had no idea how long the treatment continued. The stranger fucked her until she swore she couldn’t take any more. Then he pulled from her to ply his oral skill against her until tears of pleasure streamed down her cheeks. He was a monster, a veritable God of her orgasm, and he made Mariah question the limits of human endurance.
By the time his breathing did grow ragged and his skill dissolved into the mindless motion that preceded his orgasm, Mariah could do little more than lie limp beneath him, watching, awed, as every muscle in his magnificent body went taut. Above her, he growled and groaned, rutting his cock into her as he emptied himself in long, heated spurts that made her shudder in satisfaction.
Jesus. Jesus.
For a while, she must have drifted off. That was the only reason Mariah could think that she might have lost track of time like she did. One moment, dawn was just beginning to lighten the sky and the next the clock beside her bed was blinking eight o’clock.
With a low curse, Mariah grasped the edge of the bed. She pulled herself upright before quickly standing.
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When her legs dropped right out from underneath her like limp noodles, a soft cry of surprise escaped her. For a split second, she felt bound to collapse in a messy heap on the floor before a strong pair of arms wrapped tightly around her waist, hauling her back into bed.
For a moment, the young woman was so shocked that she could only stare at her lower half in surprise, wondering why the hell it had betrayed her. Then, she realized it wasn’t only her legs that protested her trying to stand. Her entire body ached like she’d spent a few hours in the gym, and her mouth was dry as the Sahara.
“You need water.” A full bottle materialized beneath her nose, and Mariah looked up in surprise to see the stranger from the night before extending it. In the daylight, his eyes were a very deep green. Or were they blue? “Water and rest.”
Mariah blinked as her mind struggled to catch up with the sight before her.
He was still here. After what happened last night, he didn’t cut and run. The man was gorgeously disheveled, gloriously naked, and holding out a water bottle like a fucking piece offering. Mariah had never been more confused. She should be angry. He’d broken into her room and had his way with her. He’d taken advantage of her. Given her more orgasms than she’d ever thought possible, certainly, but all of that had been against her will.
. . . Hadn’t it?
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Before Mariah freaked out, she took the bottle the man offered her and downed half of it in one go before clearing her throat. She could have asked any number of questionsmade an entire laundry list of demands. Instead, she found she wanted to know one thing most of all. “Who are you?”
The smile he shot her was both sly and roguishly sexy. “Name’s Enoch. Pleased to meet you.”
Mariah didn’t know whether to laugh or to throw him out. Introduc‐ tions might have been nice before he was balls deep inside her. “Ok . . .” She exhaled slowly, “Enoch. What the hell are you doing here?” “You should finish that.” He evaded the question, nodding at the bottle of water in her hand before rising, completely naked, to stalk across the room and assess himself in the mirror above the dresser. It took a substantial amount of willpower not to stare at the red welts peppered across his back, shoulders and buttocks, and Mariah felt color rising in her cheeks. Had she really done all that?
“Yes, you did.” She snapped to attention as Enoch glanced over his shoulder to meet her gaze. “You were quite enthusiastic.”
Mariah’s face blazed cherry. “You broke into my room and fucking seduced me. What the hell was I supposed to do?”
“Oh, I’m not complaining,” Enoch shot back with a wry smirk that made Mariah squirm. “You’re delightful. One of the best meals I’ve had in a long time.”
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“Meals?” Mariah echoed the term blankly. It wasn’t the first time the man had talked about her like she was food, and every time he did, she was more confounded. “What do you mean meals?”
Enoch sighed, running a hand through already tousled dark hair. “Explaining would be pointless, I think. You’ll forget all about me in a few hours.”
Mariah’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Forget?” She blurted in disbelief. “How could I forget one of the hottest nights of my life?”
Enoch merely chuckled, obviously amused. “Why do you think I picked you, Mariah? It’s easier to pick those who are logical. Those who pride themselves on their analytical minds. After all, those with their feet firmly planted on the ground can hardly suspend belief enough to believe in the likes of us. When you don’t believe, you forget.”
He said all this as if Mariah could make sense of it. She was still completely in the dark, or, at least, mostly in the dark. “You picked me,” she finally managed, her gaze never leaving his. “I don’t understand. I don’t understand any of this”
A humoring smile still playing about his lips, Enoch returned to the bed to perch on the edge. Reaching out, he drew his thumb over the line of her jaw, tracing the line of livid marks his mouth left the night before. “Mariah, I’m not like any man you know. Specifically in the way I gain my sustenance.” His thumb continued downward, over the bare curve of her shoulder, to cup the weight of one breast. The heat that spiked there stole her breath with its intensity, and Mariah found
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VICT O R I A H A RP E R
herself eying him warily. “Your pleasure sustains me. The more, the better. It could be a particularly fine meal, the high that comes from an exquisite purchase . . . or it could be this. Making you come over and over again until you’re boneless with it . . . that brand of delecta‐ tion is the most succulent.” If she were in her right mind, Mariah might think him out of his. He had to be on something.
. . . But he was speaking with an entirely straight face. He’d somehow gotten into her room when the door was locked and turned her into a writhing, panting mess when even she hadn’t been able to drive her body to such heights. He had been so hungry for her ...
“And I’m supposed to believe that?” she finally managed, her voice barely above a whisper. “That you’re some otherworldly being that crossed dimensions to feed on my orgasms?”
Enoch chuckled, his thumb flicking teasingly at a sore nipple. “You can believe what you like. It makes no difference to me. By this evening, you’ll have no recollection of me at all. Pity.” His expression was almost rueful as his hand rose to cup her face with surprising tenderness. “I might have enjoyed making seconds of you. And thirds, and fourths, and fifths . . .”
Mariah jerked backward, her breath ragged. Just being near him was enough to arouse her anew; and considering how exhausted she was, that was no small feat. She needed a break. She needed to get away.
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DIS B EL IEF
“I . . . need to get ready for my next speaking engagement,” she finally provided, by way of excuse. “I can’t lie in bed all morning.”
“Of course not.” Enoch rose from the bed as if they’d been talking of nothing more scintillating than business ledgers. “A hot bath should help with those sore muscles, and, in the meantime, take it easy. I might have overindulged a bit.”
Mariah couldn’t look away as the man all slid into his soft jeans. The way they hugged him like a second skin was criminal. She wouldn’t forget a sight like that anytime soon. “When your assistant calls, have her send you up a hearty breakfast,” the words were tossed casually over his shoulder, and, for a split second, Mariah wondered how Enoch even knew she had an assistant-and then the phone rang.
Frowning, she turned to answer it, and was none too surprised when Pamela greeted her cheerily. “Morning, Mariah. Everything okay up there? The car will be around in less than an hour?”
“Yeah, I’m fine . . .” The young woman massaged the nape of her neck absently. “Sorry, I’m running a little late. Slept in a bit this morning. I’ll be down ASAP. Oh, and Pam?” She added, before her assistant could hang up, “Can you have them send up some breakfast? I’m starving.”
“Sure thing.”
The moment she hung up, Mariah turned back, intent on getting the answers she sought-
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VICT O R I A H A RP E R
Only to find the room completely empty.
She gaped. Where the hell could he have gone that quickly? She hadn’t heard the door; the windows weren’t open . . . and yet he disappeared. If it weren’t for the musky tang of sex that still colored the air, she might have had a particularly vivid wet dream.
In fact, all at once, Mariah wasn’t sure the last twelve hours hadn’t been a dream. Things were a bit fuzzy. She didn’t quite recall the details of how she’d gotten back to her room the previous night. She showered, got ready for bed . . . and then there had been a stranger.
And try as she might, she couldn’t remember his name.
It was terribly bad manners to follow one’s food.
Enoch had never been the stalker type. He picked his meals at random, enjoyed himself with them, and then left him much the way he’d found them. What they took away from the experience depended entirely on the mind of the person he chose.
Self-preservation inclined him towards those who could never really believe in him . . . which ensured that they didn’t. That was the way he played the game.
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DIS B EL IEF
But Mariah West was different.
He hadn’t picked her out at a bar or across a busy dance floor at a club. Instead, he’d seen her on television one day and been struck by her conviction. How determined she was to be the purveyor of her own pleasure. It was, on many levels, quite an admirable trait. In his many years alive, Enoch had encountered more than his fair share of women who believed pleasure was a luxury bestowed upon them by others. Giving themselves pleasure was a novel notion . . . being the masters of their destinies even more so.
Even though current times bred independent women, Mariah was still a diamond in the rough. She was stubborn, unyielding, and self-sure.
She drew him like a moth to a flame.
Perhaps it was by design that his kind always wanted what was forbidden to them. He wasn’t supposed to remain in one city too long, or feed on those who knew one another. To protect himself, it was better to move around, to avoid others of his kind, and generally keep to himself. Enoch had been quite adept at all of these things before he met Mariah West. Now he found himself taking dangerous chances.
He had been in Orlando, Florida for a good two weeks waiting for her. It had, of course, taken a week to decide that he wanted her again, and another to convince himself that he wasn’t out of his mind. The
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VICT O R I A H A RP E R
woman was a public figure. If she did remember any part of their night, he could be putting himself in grave danger.
Enoch tried to tell himself he didn’t enjoy the thrill the prospect brought him.
He watched a few recordings of Mariah speaking to pass the time. He was quite taken with the way her blue eyes flashed when she was making a particularly emphatic point, and the way she tossed her dark hair when she smiled. She liked red lipstick and dark eyeliner, though he preferred her fresh out of the shower, wide-eyed, and a little hard to get.
Enoch wondered, if he came for her again, would she fight him as flagrantly as she had the first time? Would she huff, puff, and protest at his presence, or would she give in more easily? After all, her body knew him well enough, even if she herself didn’t remember.
It was torture to contemplate.
A meal, he told himself, was simply a meal. To consider any human more than that was dangerous, but, truthfully, Enoch had long come to see Mariah West as more than a simple form of sustenance. She was something of an obsession, and no matter how else he indulged, he still craved the intensity of her flavor.
Mariah lived in Orlando, and she was coming home after a countrywide speaking tour. How long she would be home was anyone’s guest, but Enoch found himself curious about the city that she’d chosen. On
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DIS B EL IEF
the night before she returned, he acquired her address and found himself outside her home, a quaint, little two-story house in the suburbs. The windows were, of course, dark, which was exactly what he’d been hoping for.
When he let himself in, Enoch was struck by how powerfully her presence resonated in the space. He made it his policy to take his meals in neutral territory, and so he almost never visited the private residences of the people he chose to feed from.
Mariah’s home was everything she was. Her scent and touch were everywhere, and he took a moment to breathe it in.
In the kitchen, he ran a hand over the spotless counter before plucking a mug from the cabinet. She liked tea, not coffee--that he could tell from merely feeling the ceramic--and might have little more than that in the mornings. In the living room, he lingered over several pictures of her with people important to her, her mother, a sister, and a number of photos with grinning fans.
Eventually, he came to her bedroom. Her bed was immense, swathed in a thick navy coverlet and a profusion of gray and white pillows. He could imagine she slept quite comfortably in it, more comfortably than in any number of hotel rooms she frequented on her tours.
At the very least, Enoch would ensure that she slept well tonight.
“You.”
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VICT O R I A H A RP E R
He was hardly surprised when she stepped into the room. Enoch had known the moment she entered the house. How couldn’t he? What did surprise him was the familiarity in her voice.
Slowly, he turned to see her silhouetted in the doorway. With no speaking engagement or appearance scheduled, she was dressed down: barefoot, in a pair of jeans and a dark t-shirt that clung to the soft weight of her breasts. Her face was mercifully free of makeup, dark curls hanging loose around her shoulders, blue eyes wide in shock.
She knew him. She remembered.
“Hello, Mariah.”
He half expected her to bolt. She wasn’t the type to take kindly to people invading her privacy. He knew that from their first meeting. Instead, the young woman merely turned to close the door behind her before resting her head against it briefly. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely a whisper, but her houseguest had no issue hearing her.
“Enoch.”
He simply stared at her. If she remembered his name, then he had sorely underestimated her. Enoch had believed himself safe, that a mind like hers couldn’t possibly retain any memory of him.
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DIS B EL IEF
The most prudent decision would be to leave, to get as far away from Mariah West and her enchanting blue eyes as he possibly could, but Enoch didn’t want to be prudent. He wanted his seconds. He wanted her.
When she turned back around, he drew her into his arms without a word, his mouth crashing down on hers. She was just as sweet as he remembered, just as soft against him. Enoch backed her against the door she had just closed. He could already feel the lust beginning to emanate from her, and he could no more stop drawing on it than he could stop breathing.
He bit at her lower lip before sucking it between his teeth. She squirmed with a delightful gasp that had his erection pressing flush against the zipper of his jeans. Christ, what she did to him. Enoch had thought that having her once more might be enough to drive her from his system, but a single kiss was enough to tell him how wrong he was.
He needed more. Much more.
When her tongue snaked out to meet his, he groaned, unabashedly taking two handfuls of her lush behind to pull her flush against him. She was far bolder than she had been upon their first meeting, and he wondered how much of that encounter she recalled. Mere parts? The entire affair? Did she remember how many times she came against his tongue and fingers? How her beautiful body had quivered against his in divine pleasure?
He remembered.
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VICT O R I A H A RP E R
When he lifted Mariah bodily against the door, a soft sound of surprise escaped her a brief moment before she wrapped her legs tightly around his waist. The gesture butted the heat between her legs flush against his trapped cock and a low growl of possessive desire slipped from his throat.
She was his. Only his.
Was it inane of him to care that he was the only man to have touched her in recent memory? For all her talk of self-pleasure, she came will‐ ingly into his arms. Though Enoch had never doubted his skills--they were, after all, how he sang for his supper--it stroked his pride that such a woman preferred him to all the ways she could pleasure herself. He was the only one who could touch her this way.
He had no right to such thoughts, but there they were.
Enoch tore his mouth from her to groan against her ear. “You have tortured me.” When he bucked his hips against hers, Mariah’s breath hitched in anticipation.
“I thought you were a dream,” she breathed against his mouth hotly, her tone tentative. “Back in Seattle . . .”
“I am a dream.” He cut her off with another fierce kiss. “Your dream.” Enoch reached for the hem of her shirt, jerking it off over her head and tousling her dark curls. The thin cotton hit the floor, closely
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DIS B EL IEF
followed by the scrap of blue lace Mariah wore beneath. While Enoch could appreciate fancy lingerie as much as the next man, he prized more what the lingerie accented.
Mariah had perfect breasts. The filled his hands gloriously with their warm weight, the coffee colored nipples perking the moment his breath fell upon them. His thumbs rasped over the taut peaks as Enoch latched onto the point of her pulse to suckle hungrily. Slender fingers slid through his hair, tugging at his scalp deliciously as she attempted to tug him southward to where she wanted him most. Enoch chuckled darkly at her eagerness, merely tugging briefly at her nipples in reprimand. “Patience.”
“I’ve been patient for months.” She squirmed against him, making him grit his teeth as she taxed his self-control. “I want it. I need it.”
“What do you need?” he demanded, straightening to take a handful of her hair and draw her neck taut, forcing her to look at him.
The hunger in her gaze was intoxicating, almost enough to have him dispense with the pleasures and take her then and there. But Enoch wanted to hear the words from her. Anything less would leave him unfulfilled.
Mariah swallowed thickly, pinned just as much by his grip on her as she was by his amorphous, ever-changing eyes. When she opened her mouth, she had every iota of Enoch’s attention. “You. I need you, Enoch.” A shaky breath escaped her. “I need to feed you.”
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VICT O R I A H A RP E R
In a smooth motion, Enoch’s hands went to her hips and he hoisted her higher against him before turning to carry her across the room to the bed. The moment she tumbled onto the mattress, he flipped her onto her stomach to expose the alluring line of her spine. As he kissed and licked over each tiny indentation, Enoch jerked at the fastenings of her jeans.
He fed naturally in circumstances like these, pulling from the arousal and enthusiasm of his partners. Mariah’s potent brand of sustenance flooded his senses, enhancing his own arousal with every moment that passed. By the time he jerked her pants from long, slender legs to the floor, Enoch was ravenous. He tugged the drenched lace of her panties aside to reveal the glistening flower of her pussy before sinking his tongue into it.
Mariah shrieked and her arousal spiked. In answer, his cock pulsed and Enoch groaned against her in satisfaction.
This. This was what he craved.
He thrust his tongue deep within her in a fair imitation of what he planned to do with needier parts of him, continuing his ministrations until Mariah writhed and panted wildly. She came hard against his mouth and he drank her in until her tremors faded to nothingness, and she struggled to catch her breath.
It wasn’t enough. Never enough.
But apparently, the young woman had other plans.
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DIS B EL IEF
Mariah twisted swiftly so she was perched on the edge of the bed, and then she reached for the fastening of his jeans. While the more primal side of him wanted nothing more than to feel her mouth on him, Enoch reached down to stop her. “Your pleasure feeds me,” he murmured, stroking her chin fondly. “It has nothing to do with my own.”
“I want to do this.” Mariah countered almost immediately, her grin adorably mischievous. “If you’re really what you say you are, you should know that well enough.”
And in short order, he did.
Mariah made surprisingly quick work of the button and zipper that kept her from him, and upon finding him bare beneath, a low sound of approval hummed from her throat. She extracted his erection care‐ fully, running her fingers over the stiff column of flesh with some‐ thing very much like reverence.
When she took the head of his cock between her lips, Enoch hissed, unable to keep his hips from bucking slightly. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d allowed a woman to pleasure him this way . . . It had been far too long. Mariah took him down her throat slowly-admirably, for one of little experience--and when she began to suck, Enoch emitted a stream of curses as his hands fell to her curls.
God, that mouth of hers-hot and wet and so terribly eager. The longer she sucked him, the wetter she grew until Enoch could bare it no
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VICT O R I A H A RP E R
longer. “That’s enough.” With a low growl, he tore her from him, tossing her back onto the bed before flipping her back on her stom‐ ach. When he tugged her to the edge of the bed, this time it was on to his cock.
Mariah didn’t bother to muffle the shriek of pleasure that tore from her, and Enoch wondered if he might grow addicted to the sound. His fingers curled into her hips as he plunged into her over and over, mindless with the feel of her around him. No meal he’d had since her could compare. No woman could compare. The way she drove herself back against his cock, fucking him just as much as he her . . . it was a drug.
One he might very well need to live.
When his hands wrapped around her thighs to bring her closer and drive himself deeper, Mariah screamed. He grasped at her sheets, destroying the former organization of her tidy bed until it was nothing more than a pile of pillows and mussed coverlet-only the cotton sheets kept her clinging to the last vestiges of her sanity.
She came twice on his cock. The first time to the tune of a long drawn out moan that was music to his ears, and the second time with a soft feminine whimper as she clenched sweetly around him. Then Enoch pulled her to him, situating her on his lap, her back against his chest, so she could watch him thrust his cock up and into her in the mirror as he held her legs wide apart. When she next came on him, she squeezed him tight as a vice-almost tight enough to be his undoing.
Enoch had her on every surface in the room. When they exhausted
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DIS B EL IEF
their options in her bedroom, they moved to the living room, and then the kitchen. He wasn’t bound by the trappings of human stamina, and so only Mariah’s limitations concerned him.
She was, by far, one of the most amorous humans he had ever encountered, but even she had her limits. Eventually, she exhausted herself, and when Enoch came down from his own orgasmic high, he found she had fallen asleep with him still inside her.
Though his hunger was sated, Enoch didn’t leave her side. He did his best to repair the damage they’d done to her room. A lamp would need replacing, and her dresser had chipped the paint on the wall in several places, but nothing permanent stood out. Enoch liked to think she’d look back rather fondly on these little imperfections. He certainly would.
Though he himself didn’t need much sleep, he lay next to her, watching her breathe evenly. Before Mariah West, his opinion of humans hadn’t been very high. While he didn’t treat them unkindly, as did other members of his kind, he hadn’t thought them anything terribly special. They were a way for him to survive and, at most, an entertaining diversion from the doldrums of an abnormally long life.
But Enoch had a hard time seeing himself bored for the foreseeable future. Mariah had sparked something in him he thought long dead, and he’d be damned if he lost it now.
“You said I wouldn’t remember you.” He was drawn from his reverie by Mariah’s soft statement. After a few hours of sleep, she woke to stare up at him, her eyes soft with either affection or exhaustion,
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VICT O R I A H A RP E R
perhaps some combination of the two. “And I didn’t. Not until I saw you again. Then everything came back.”
Enoch’s mouth curved into a wry smile. “Remarkable. You continue to surprise me, Mariah.”
The young woman’s brow wrinkled in obvious confusion. “But you said I wouldn’t remember you. Not unless I believed that you’re . . .” She trailed off, unwilling to state what was, by this point, painfully obvious.
“Different?” he provided helpfully.
Mariah’s cheeks colored. “Not human.” She whispered the words as if they were some great secret, and he chuckled softly.
“Do you believe it?”
“I don’t know,” she finally settled after a moment of contemplation. “All I know is that you can outdo my rabbit. I feel,” she declared, straightening slightly to look him in the eye, “Like I should keep someone like you around.”
Enoch smirked. If that was the closest he’d get to a compliment from Mariah, he’d gladly accept it. He’d accept anything she was willing to give him. “Meaning you want seconds.”
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DIS B EL IEF
The dark-haired woman shot him a wicked little smile that was enough to get him hard in two seconds. “Mmhm. And thirds, and fourths, and fifths . . .”
It seemed that Enoch need not fear going hungry for quite some time. And no amount of disbelief could deter his favorite human from adding him to her busy schedule.
39
EPILOGUE
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DIS B EL IEF
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41
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
My passions lie in writing and reading sexy romances. Personal expe‐ riences are often the inspiration for my sexy romances, so there is a little bit of me in every story I pen. As a hopeless romantic, I believe in happily ever afters and that each day is for living, loving and laughing. I hope you enjoy reading my sexy, sweet and emotional romances as much as I enjoy writing them! For new releases, sneak peeks and exclusives, sign up and get Disbe‐ lief Side Story for free by copy/pasting the following link into your browser, then signing up. BookHip.com/ZKWVAH
Victoria Harper
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