His balls went tight as he nodded.
“Do you trust me?”
He nodded again and she rewarded him with a smile. He did trust her. He trusted this kooky, smart, funny Aromatherapian more than anyone he knew.
She picked up the candle. “Give me your hand.”
He took a step forward and did as she asked. She took his wrist and turned his hand until the back faced up. She then lifted the glass about two feet above his hand and slowly tilted the candle. Mesmerized, he watched the white liquid flow to the edge of the votive and spill over the edge in a slow stream.
His instinct was to yank his hand back, but Lacy seemed to expect this reaction because she held him still and steady as a large drop of wax hit his skin, causing him to gasp. It wasn’t too hot, but it was intense and sent a jolt of adrenaline through him.
He waited for her to do it again, but instead she handed him the candle. “I trust you, too.”
It seemed like a ceremony to him, more powerful than anything he would ever do with her in a church. This exchange of trust nearly sent him over the edge, but he couldn’t lose control now. He wanted to do this.
Leaning back onto her elbows, she kept her gaze on his. He looked down at the warm votive in his hand and a powerful desire ran though him. Only moments ago he had been ready to come in his own hand, but now a sense of calm was taking over him. He wanted to wait.
And he couldn’t deny that he wanted to do as she had asked. He wanted to torture her a bit, wanted to make her squirm. Wanted her to beg him.
His cock jumped.
He stepped between her legs, pressing his erection right against her pussy. She gasped at the contact and wiggled a little, pressing into him. He wished his arm wasn’t in the sling because he needed to take a nipple between his fingers and feel that part of her. Instead he bent forward and pulled a pink tip across his teeth, sucking and nipping at her until she moaned beneath him.
“Mason, please. I can’t wait anymore.”
“You’re the one who started this.” He kissed her again. “And I intend to give you what you wanted.”
Her eyes were wide and dark as she looked at the candle in his hand. “Yes. Please.”
But when his gaze rested on her fine, porcelain-pale skin, he paused. “I’ve never done this before. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Trust me. Just start with the candle about three feet above my chest and go slowly.”
It seemed so odd to be feeling so patient when his cock was so hard, but the combination was powerful and it energized him. The candle was burning a subtle scent that embodied her—vanilla and chocolaty red wine. He inhaled deeply, wanting to fill himself with that fragrance.
He lifted the candle as she had instructed, tilted it and let a few drops fall onto her skin.
She threw her head back and gasped as the molten wax hit her just across the top of her breasts. She cried out and arched higher. “Yes, Mason. That’s right. Do it again.”
Lust hit him in the gut but he kept going, pouring a little more, then a bit more, watching it splatter like drops of lava. Her skin turned a little bit pink under the heat, but it was nothing to worry about. He lowered his arm bit by bit, allowing the wax to become hotter and hotter as he decorated her body with an ivory pattern. He focused on her breasts, covering her erect nipples with a waxy layer.
Soon she was writhing on the desk, her legs spread wide as she ground herself against his erection. Her red hair was a bit messy, her cheeks were flushed. He took a deep breath. “You are so beautiful.”
“Oh, God, Mason. I want to feel your cock. Inside me. Now.”
Her eyes were dark, dilated with desire and want. “Yes, babe. I want that, too.” She scooted out of her panties and dropped them onto the floor.
She pushed herself up, leaned in and popped open the first button of his jeans. He stood rock still as she continued the process, and when she was done she pushed his pants, along with his boxers, down to his knees.
She licked her lips. “That’s better.”
She opened her legs wide and leaned back onto her elbows again. She was so wet and he was so hard he didn’t need a second hand to help slide into her. He went right in, pushing until she slid an inch back onto his desk, sending a stapler to the floor.
“Kiss my breasts again, Mason.”
He glanced at the wax on her skin. It still looked soft, but was beginning to dry. “I’d love to, but I’m not sure wax is edible.”
She grinned. “This wax is. I made it myself. Go ahead.”
He leaned down to take a nipple into his mouth, instinctively thrusting into her as the familiar vanilla flavor melted on his tongue.
She curved into him, moaning his name. “Yes, Mason. Yes!”
Sensation nearly overwhelmed him—she was filling him everywhere. He tasted her, smelled her, felt the very inside of her. Her breathy voice filled his ears—she was crying out his name every time he pumped into her.
Soon the room began to fade and there was nothing but her. Lacy.
“I love you, Lacy!” He clutched her hair in his fist, causing her throat to arch and exposing her ear. As he came he nipped the delicate lobe, feeling her sex clench around him in a series of spasms that sent him straight to heaven.
It took awhile to come back to earth. He finally opened his eyes to find Lacy staring up at him. “I love you, too Mason. Forever.”
He groaned and lowered his mouth to hers again, surrendering.
He wasn’t strong enough. Leaving her simply wasn’t an option any longer. Because there was something he’d wanted since the minute he’d stepped into Lacy Kane’s house. Her.
And from that moment on, she was his.
About the Author
Lillian Feisty was born in the San Francisco Bay Area. Like a piece of driftwood, she has washed up on nearly every beach between Santa Cruz and the Oregon border.
Because she never attended any particular elementary school for more than a few months at a time, she amused herself during lonely recesses by writing what would nowadays be labeled fanfic featuring Michael Knight and Han Solo. Sometimes in the same story.
She owned an art gallery for several years, holds a degree in Creative Arts and was just a few units short of her MA when she decided to drop out of school to write romance novels.
Her first novella was published in March 2007 and she’s been hard at work ever since. She is the president of Passionate Ink, a special interest chapter of Romance Writers of America, and is also a moderator for the award-winning website, Romance Divas. Ms. Feisty currently resides in Northern Nevada. When she’s not writing you might find her conducting “research” at brothels, staring out windows, or making Martinis.
The author welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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Also by Lillian Feisty
Ellora’s Cavemen: Seasons of Seduction I anthology
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