by C. C. Gibbs
“Thank you.” An approving smile. “That’s what I like to hear.” He lifted his hand from the back of her neck and slid it down her back, over the twined ropes and cool stickiness of his come, slipping his damp fingers between her legs, stroking her parted pussy gently, a caress—a gesture of ownership. “Is this mine?”
She shouldn’t immediately burn with desire. She should have more pride. Even the shame was decadently arousing. She whimpered, as though giving voice to her sordid disbelief, and when she tried to stifle the sound, he gently slid a finger inside.
“You want my dick inside you, don’t you?”
She wouldn’t look at him.
He nipped at the tender flesh of her shoulder. “Do you think you deserve to come?” She didn’t answer, but he saw the flush rising on her face. “Come on, tiger.” He kissed the angle of her face. “Talk to me.”
“Not if you’re still just playing.”
He suppressed his smile. His princess of the universe sounded like a child who’d missed out on a trip to the amusement park. “I’m not, I’m dead serious.” He touched his tongue to her cheek where he’d marked her. “How many times do you want to come? Once?”
Her pale eyelids rose faintly.
“Twice?”
Holding his gaze, she nodded.
“Now?”
She shot him a fast glance.
He made sure his smile would pass judgment at the pearly gates.
“Okay,” she said.
He unfastened the quick release knots, one after another, unwrapping her body tenderly between kisses. Taking special care when lifting away the clit knot, gently massaging her stomach and thighs until a little sigh escaped her lips.
Having been kept on the edge of ecstasy so long, once the pressure of the ropes was taken away, she was in limbo, sensually aware but drifting back from a state of constant arousal, content to simply absorb the calm.
He carried her into his bathroom, walked into his shower room, sat down on one of the benches with Nicole on his lap, hit the wall panel controls, and turned on all the shower heads to warm up the room.
“You okay?” She was almost too still, her eyes shut. He brushed her hair away from her face, kissed her cheek. “Look at me, pussycat.” Had he pushed her too hard? “Hey, sweets,” he said softly, “I’m beginning to worry.”
Her smile appeared before she opened her eyes. “Good. You should.”
He started breathing again. His darling bitch was back. “I am, truly. Just because I have no limits doesn’t mean you don’t. I should have known better. Sorry.” He grinned. “Tie me up if you want.”
She sat up a little straighter. “Really?”
His grin widened. “Maybe—although the phrase when hell freezes over is lighting up my brain. We could flip for it.”
“That’s all right,” she said, grinning back. “It looks like way too much work anyway. You know me—keep it simple.” She lifted her brows. “So anytime. I believe you said two.”
“Only two?”
“Hey, Contini, the mood you’ve been in, I’ll take the two and then we can talk about more. A bird in the hand, et cetera.”
“Let me wash my come off you first.”
She gave him a disgusted look. “About that,” she said peevishly.
“Yeah, I know. Won’t happen again.”
“And?”
He saw one of those schoolteacher looks given to misbehaving students. “My sincere apologies, tiger. That probably wasn’t the best idea in the world. Although, if we’re comparing bad ideas, I’ll take an apology for: I’ll be taking the next flight out.”
“You pissed me off.”
“Duh. That’s why we’re in the shower.” As she scowled, he quickly put his hand over her mouth. “Let’s not go another ten rounds okay? Sit back, enjoy your spa attendant, and once I have you all clean and sweet smelling, you’ll get your happy endings.”
“Okay.”
He always liked how she could turn on a dime. Weigh the pros and cons, go with the good stuff—don’t mess around. “Here, get comfortable.” He lifted her so she was straddling his thighs.
She smiled. “Planning ahead?”
“You bet. Now shut your eyes. Shampoo first.”
He was gentle, thorough, really thorough, so much so that she was seriously panting by the time he was rinsing off the last of the soap.
Setting the shower hose aside, he ran his fingers lightly over the waves of her hair. “Your hair was wet like this when I first saw you. I’ll never forget it. You took my breath away.”
“Even with your dick in Silvia Fermetti?” She couldn’t resist; it was one of those gloating moments of female mojo.
“It wasn’t quite in her yet,” he said, like fractions of inches mattered. “And once I saw you—well, we know how that turned out.”
She gave him a little wink. “I won Hokusai’s Great Wave.”
“Along with the rest of me.” He stared at her for a second, then nodded as though coming to terms with the notion. “I’ve never said that before, never wanted to, never even thought about it.”
She smiled. “I do like all of you—really a lot.” Her voice went soft. “A whole lot.”
“Ditto here. We’re having a moment aren’t we?”
“Sorta. Don’t panic.”
“I’m not. It feels good.”
A small silence fell, only the dozen showerheads steaming up the room were backdrop to the quiet wonder of the moment.
Programmed to avoid emotion, Rafe spoke first. “Speaking of feeling good, I made a promise to you.”
Understanding his sudden shift in mood, aware as well that neither of them were going to be setting a wedding date after knowing each other for a day, she politely said, “Yes, you did.” She grinned. “Now deliver, Contini, or I’ll make your life a living hell.”
He laughed. “Too late. But it’s the nicest hell I’ve ever been in.” And with a wink, he took her by the waist, said, “See if he fits,” and raised her enough so she could guide his erection into her warm body.
As she sank down his hard, rigid length, she wrapped her arms around his neck, shut her eyes, and sighed with such utter contentment, her smile mirrored only a very small fraction of her pleasure.
His low, throaty grunt as she came to rest, fully impaled, on his thighs was a sound of such intense satisfaction that he felt the echo resonate in his brain like a song loaded with bass.
Neither moved, breath held, filled with hope and fear and something beautiful.
Then his dick twitched, a reflex or a calculated transition, and they both took a breath.
“Amazing,” she whispered, less afraid. “Like tasting a dream.”
“Yeah,” he said, learning to accept a world beyond lust, lowering his mouth to her lips. Tasting her.
And he made love to her then; made love to a woman for the first time in his life. She was more than a fleeting dream, something real and wonderful. And she deserved more than the heat and technique, the naked, dangerous lust—he smiled to himself as the word romance slid into the picture, but that’s what she deserved. It was a little complicated at first; he had to slow down and think about what he was doing. No automatic moves, no do-it-by-the-numbers, but something better.
Although the first time wasn’t precisely slow because she’d waited too long.
Rafe took Nicole to climax in a blazing rush, her orgasm so intense, whirling hot, and raw that she was sobbing at the end. “It’s all right, tiger,” he whispered, holding her close. “That first one after that long hits you hard. The next one’s a piece of cake.”
She slowly tipped her tear-stained face up and smiled, half shy, like she was still feeling the fizz. “It was good.”
“I could tell.”
She said, “You didn’t come.”
“You first.” Not joking, not teasing, like he’d had time to think about it and was making a life change.
“Thank you.” She smiled a little and wiggled on his primed, ready-to-rock ere
ction. “You gonna be okay?”
He grinned. “I’m fine. Just waiting on you. It’s your party.”
He didn’t mind acting the gentleman; he wanted to please her as if he were being graded. And he screwed the hell out of her in the nicest possible, five-star, straight-A, planning-every-move-for-her-pleasure way. Not just twice. But until she finally held up her hand, said, “Hang on a second. Let me think. Nope, I’m done. Don’t wake me up when you come,” and collapsed on his chest.
It probably wouldn’t have traumatized her if he’d taken his turn, but she was played out. He’d live if he didn’t climax.
Turning off the showers, he wiped them both dry and carried her to bed.
Chapter 22
Resting against the headboard, Rafe cradled Nicole in his lap while she half dozed. She gave him such pleasure, he felt as though he were high. Crazy. He wondered if other people ever felt this good. It was extraordinary.
“Nice, hey?” A wisp of sound, warm with contentment.
“Nothing better, pussycat.” He touched the top of her head with his lips. “Great anniversary.”
“And we have another coming up tomorrow.”
He chuckled. “You’re going to keep me fucking busy.”
She shifted in his arms so she could see his face. “I absolutely adore you. There, I said it again. Don’t run. I won’t let you.”
“No way. I adore you too. Life’s good right?”
“The best,” she whispered.
“So now that I have you in a good mood,” he said, lightly teasing.
“I’m always in a good mood.”
“I don’t want to fight. I repeat, now that I have you in a good mood,” Rafe said, sensibly ignoring the little bunny twitch of her nose, “I have a question. Feel free to say no.”
“Not more rope.”
“As if you didn’t get all sexed up, but no, it’s something else.”
“I suppose I’m going to learn a whole lot from you since you seem to know everything about—”
He put a finger over her mouth. “Listen.” Having worked herself into a little snit, she tried to wiggle away, but he held her close. “Have you ever been to a sex club?”
Okay, that she wasn’t expecting, but he was obviously waiting for an answer. “Like what kind of sex club?”
“The usual kind,” he said.
“Define usual.”
He laughed. “Or I could define deviant? Or you could just say no. I won’t hold it against you if you’re not a regular at sex clubs.”
She sniffed. “I might hold it against you if you are a regular.”
“Come on, I’ve known you for only twenty-four hours.” He smiled. “How about I say I’ve never been to the one Ganz has invited us to in Paris? Better? So, want to check it out?”
“I can say no, right?”
“Absolutely.” He didn’t give a shit. He’d been to hundreds.
“What’ll I wear if we go?”
“As little as you want, pussycat.”
“Are people naked there?”
“That’s what I’ve heard.”
“You’re such a liar.”
“Survival, tiger. A crazy father, Darwinian boarding schools, a mother who loved me but didn’t want to hear the bad stuff. Count your blessings if you had a normal childhood. So, do you want to go? Ganz needs an answer. He might be leaving for Paris tomorrow.”
“Will I have fun if we go?”
“Oh, yeah,” he said, soft as silk. “I’ll make sure you do.”
“You do have the knack.” Her smile was rich with sated passion, her gaze warm with affection, a playful note in her voice when she said, “Don’t panic now, and I have no idea why I’m asking except thanks to you I’m still feeling a crazy-ass glow—but have you ever thought about having children?”
He suppressed his shock, smiled back, and kept his voice mild as hell. “No, I’ve never thought about it. Too busy, I suppose.” If any other woman had asked him that, he would have been far less polite.
“Me too. Busy.”
“Someday,” he said with disarming courtesy.
“Yeah.”
He smiled and, ignoring the little voice in his head that was yelling, Shut the fuck up, he murmured, “Although, damn, right now, tiger, it doesn’t sound like such a bad idea.”
She laughed. “That’s ’cause we’re still floating in our warm, fuzzy bubble.”
He didn’t do warm and fuzzy; or, as a rule he didn’t. He was a practical man. “I don’t know—for me, watching you get fat with my baby inside you—I’m thinking that’s seriously hot.”
“Pervert.”
“Hey, worshipful hot, okay? All tender and sweet shit.”
“Okay, now you’re just being crazy. My mom said that’s what happened to my uncle; he got baby crazy. She never thought it would happen to the great Dominic Knight, player extraordinaire.”
Rafe’s eyes widened for a second. “Your uncle’s Dominic Knight?” If she’d mentioned it before he hadn’t noticed.
“Yeah, you know him?”
“Not really,” he said. “I’ve seen him here and there over the years. Not lately though.”
“That’s because he’s turned into a saint—well… that’s probably a stretch for Dominic. I used to hear my parents talk about his wildness and kink. Since he married, his life revolves around his family. Kate and the kids are darling though, so there’s no question why he dotes on them.”
Rafe’s brows rose. “Kids?” Now there was a picture. The last time he’d seen Dominic Knight, he’d been covered in naked women.
“Yeah. Rosie’s five and James is two and a half. They’re cute and sweet and smart, as if Dominic and Kate put in an order for perfect kids.”
“You don’t say…
“I do say.” But her voice in contrast was forceful, and quickly twisting away, she was straddling Rafe’s hips in two seconds flat. “Now, Mr. Contini,” she purred, “to change the subject from babies, which is way the hell out there, I was wondering if we could get back to talking about you being just a little bit nice to me again—in your inimitable fashion.” She curled her fingers around his rising erection. “In his inimitable fashion.” She looked up and smiled. “Have I mentioned he’s my newest addiction?”
“I believe you have once or twice. And, speaking for him, may I say the sexy sound of your voice alone is enough to make him hard.” His golden gaze was warm with humor, and, sliding his long fingers around her waist, he lifted her slightly. “Put him in.”
She smiled. “Moi? Again? Are you getting lazy?”
“Seeing as how I have my hands full, a little cooperation would be appreciated.” A teasing lift of his brows. “Unless you don’t want to come?”
A second later, his dick was fully ensconced in the woman of his dreams, her warm ass was resting on his thighs, and she was smiling at him like she was enjoying herself.
“We have to stop meeting like this,” she said playfully.
“I don’t see why.”
She laughed. “Okay.”
“That’s the way, baby. Just yeses, always. Remember?”
“Yes, sir, absolutely, sir.”
It was amazing how much his dick liked Nicole in submission mode.
She noticed too. “Jeez, for that much more dick in seconds flat, you can have all the yeses you want.”
“Let me get that in writing. Seriously.”
The quiet gravity in his amber gaze collided with her wild, irresponsible need. And suddenly she no longer cared who called the shots, who was in control, if control even mattered with an entire, blissful month before her in which she could be naively happy. Violently happy. “Just show me where to sign.” She smiled. “Seriously.”
“Done deal. August is turning out to be my favorite month ever.”
“Because to love more and be happy is everything. That’s a Hafiz poem I’m screwing up royally,” she said with a grin.
“It sounds good to me. Perfect, in fact,” h
e whispered and kissed her.
Chapter 23
Two days later, after Ganz had successfully concluded what Rafe called some unfinished business, they flew to Paris.
Ganz was dropped off at his girlfriend’s apartment and twenty minutes later, Rafe and Nicole arrived at the small fourteenth-century cloister house on the Seine that Rafe called home in the city. Rafe had purchased it when he left university and the building had been converted over the course of several years and considerable expense into a comfortable residence.
This time, rather than bodyguards, the door was opened by a small, plump, middle-aged woman in a gypsy skirt and a black T-shirt with henna-colored hair, enormous diamond studs in her ears, and a smile that was visible from space.
“You darling, sweet boy! How nice to see you again!”
She spoke French, but her enthusiasm was universal and when she opened her arms wide, Rafe moved forward to give her a hug.
Then he turned to Nicole, drew her forward, and made introductions.
“Natalie, I’d like you to meet Nicole,” Rafe said in English. “Nicole, Natalie, who’s kept me on the straight and narrow for many years.”
“Tut, such a liar,” Natalie said in heavily accented English, giving Rafe a little slap on the arm. “He does exactly as he pleases. You must change his bad behavior, ma petite,” she added with a smile for Nicole.
“I’ll do my best,” Nicole replied, shooting a teasing glance at Rafe. “But I may be too late.”
“Nonsense, a man’s better for a strong woman at his side.” She smiled up at Rafe. “Isn’t that so, chéri?”
“If you say so, Natalie,” Rafe replied smoothly. “Who am I to question your magic?”
Her dark eyes hinted at arcane mysteries. “Indeed.”
A small electric pause flickered in the ancient foyer.
Rafe broke the silence first. “Did my parcels arrive?”
“This morning. They’re in your suite as ordered,” Natalie said, staring at him, making it plain her deference was provisional.
“Thank you. If you’ll excuse us,” Rafe said, staring back, his voice conveying his own degree of provisional sanction: even a beloved employee would be wise not to go beyond a certain point.
