“Can you hear it, Jake? Can you hear what you’re doing to me?” she ended on a moan, losing focus for a moment. “Of course you can and while I work it slowly inside me, I want you to massage all that lovely lube under your balls and down, let it roll down, follow it with your hand, work it into your ass while you pull on your cock. Tell me what it feels like.”
He was practically incoherent but she could hear the surprise in his voice, the wonder, the eagerness for the experience as she paced her rhythm, feeding off his excitement. She listened to him shout, the slurp of his hand. She closed her eyes, imagined what he looked like and sent herself over the edge.
She heard him flick the intercom off, the sharp disconnect pulling at something deep inside her. She’d urged him into a place she’d never asked anyone else to go. Maybe it had been a bad choice, maybe he was having second thoughts. No, she wasn’t going there. She wasn’t going to lose focus. This week was about being brave, about being herself, letting him see the real Ella. She closed her eyes and pictured what he must look like.
The door downstairs opened and closed. He didn’t turn on any lights. She told herself that he knew the house and didn’t need them. She could hear her heart beating in time with his slow deliberate footfall on the stairs leading to her. When he reached the top of the stairs the moon through the skylight threw an eerie cast over his shaded face and naked body like a character in a graphic novel and when he drew closer she could see his erection straining against his stomach. A shiver raced through her, excitement, fear, desire so deep it pulled her insides into a knot.
His jaw was clenched as if once again he was keeping the words tight behind his lips. She reached for him, barely had time to spread her legs before he slid inside, wrapping his arms around her, cushioning her head in his palms.
She closed her eyes and he gripped her tighter. “Don’t,” leeched from between his lips, a whispered plea and she snapped them back open. Longing, pure and simple etched lines along his face, fierce and beautiful at the same time, and her heart twisted.
“Jake…”
He kissed her, sliding his tongue inside her mouth, cutting off anything else she might say and lifted her closer. She kissed him back, met him thrust for thrust racing with him, with herself, the pressure building until her orgasm ripped through her and she felt his answering tremors, swallowing his shout as they both came, spiraling out of control at the same time. That had never happened with her before.
They fell asleep still entwined. Ella woke briefly when he slid out of her sometime during the night and dragged her against him, mumbled something against her neck. She wanted to respond but she couldn’t form a coherent sentence so she smiled against his palm, kissing the warm center. He settled, held her tighter and in that moment Ella knew she never wanted to be anywhere else.
She waited for the panic to set in, the sign that she should run before he woke up. When it didn’t come, she was almost uncomfortable. Why? The question flitted around the edges of her consciousness as drifted into sleep.
Chapter Five
Jake’s studio was half as big as his house with windows all around. The white plastered walls were lined with wooden shelves full of books, bins of paint, brushes, antique cameras and cozy artistic paraphernalia that just missed being clutter by a blink. A tapestry chaise, the fabric soft shades of turquoise, brick and gold sat at an angle in the center of the room. Beneath it a faded, threadbare rug covered a square of the paint-spattered wood floor. An easel and an overstuffed chair were placed off to the side in full view of the chaise.
Ella felt a trickle of anticipation when she saw the chaise, her first flicker of panic when Jack told her he wanted to sketch her reclining nude on it.
“You do realize that I wouldn’t pose this way for anyone else?” she asked, surprised her voice held steady as he slipped his dark robe off her bare shoulders and down her arms, leaving her naked.
“You’d better fucking not,” he growled possessively, sending another spike of anticipation through her. She chuckled to cover her nervousness while Jake arranged her arms over her head as if they were suspended by invisible tethers, rearranged the line of her hip tilting it forward. Frowning, he sat back on his haunches before adjusting the angle and planting a kiss on the smooth curve of her belly.
“I don’t suppose you’re the airbrush kind of make-them-look-good-so-they-pay-you-a-bundle–so-you-can-make-commissions-from-all-their-friends kind of artist?” she quipped, anything but brave at the moment, which was what she’d convinced herself this was.
“You’re not paying me,” he grinned. “And FYI, airbrushing is for photographers,” he said, peeling out of his jeans and slipping a condom out of the pocket. He sat down naked in the overstuffed chair with a sketch pad propped on his knee and laid the condom on the arm of the chair. He was so nonchalant that she forgot her own nervousness.
“Painted many ‘portraits’ have you?”
“None and I’ve never shown any nudes. You’re my first. Stop moving your sexy mouth, I’m trying to get your lips right without closing my eyes.”
“You’re very talented if you can sketch with your eyes closed. Are you sure you don’t do portraits? What do you mean you’ve never shown any nudes and I’m your first?”
“I took a class in college but nudes were a problem.”
“Wouldn’t they let you get naked to sketch them?”
“Modeling is very boring. I’m trying to be entertaining.” He sighed theatrically. “You really do have to shut up. Think about sex. Think about your darkest fantasy, something you’ve always been afraid to tell anyone else.”
She started to tell him she didn’t have any but closed her mouth when he glared at her.
“Be brutally honest with yourself.”
Something she’d be afraid to tell anyone else. Brutally honest. Darkest fantasy.
Okay. She’d always had a threesome fantasy but she’d never trusted one man with that secret let alone two. Oh what the hell. She closed her eyes, smiled and imagined herself in a toga, a purple color as deep as an eggplant, the silk caressing her as she walked under a moonlit sky through her courtyard on her way to the private bathhouse.
Two men waited for her, one tall, muscular and blond, the other slim, darker, agile. They were lolling in the shallow end of the heated pool of water, candlelight reflecting where the moon couldn’t reach.
“I’m finished with your mouth. Tell me what’s put the smile on your face,” he asked in a voice gone velvety and dark.
She could feel her face heat and she opened her eyes. “I was just about to step into my own private tiled bath where two gladiators are waiting to fulfill my every wish.”
He arched a dark golden brow and continued sketching while he smiled back at her. “Two? And what are these two doing?” he asked in that same dark voice that always sent a lick of heat streaking through her.
“They’re standing at a carved stone table dressed only in loincloths. They’re waiting for me to lie down. The darker of the two unclasps the jeweled brooch that holds my toga up and lets the fabric fall over the belt at my hips. He caresses my breasts, sucking my nipples into his mouth one after the other.”
“And the other one?”
“His large blond companion has already slipped his loincloth off while the other releases my belt and I step out of my toga. He lifts me onto the table. His friend is now holding a small jar. He tips it over me, dribbles rose-scented oil between my breasts, onto my stomach, massages it into my skin while I watch his companion disrobe. I want him to touch himself, but the blond gladiator only smiles and dribbles oil from another jar onto my feet, up over my legs, my thighs. They’re working in tandem, smoothing toward my pussy, their hands almost meeting. I’ve been anticipating this all day and I’m almost writhing off the table.”
“Do they say anything?”
“No. They can use everything but their voices to lure me into an orgasm and the winner decides what happens next.”
&nbs
p; Jake frowned. “But if they’re working together how do you know?”
“I get the deciding vote.”
“Ummmm,” he rumbled deep in his throat and she felt her pussy throb as she watched him, hand flying over the sketch pad on his lap, knees up.
“I wish I could draw worth a damn, I would immortalize every inch of you.” She sighed, tempted by his unfurling erection. Her fingers itched to wrap around the mouthwatering column of silky taut skin.
“Where are their fingers?”
“They arrange themselves so that I can watch but no one is really touching me. I feel like I’m on fire but I’m not allowed to speak or give directions. My large blond companion is parting me, his partner is blowing on my clit and I lift my head to watch. My clit is so sensitized, quivering. My bare lips are starting to flush when my tormentors smile. The dark-haired one flicks my swollen nub with the tip of his tongue, just a teasing swipe but it’s enough to make me squirm.”
Jake spread his legs slightly and she could see his erection grow, his balls lift as his hand raced furiously over the paper, flipping over a page to begin another. He was so intense, so driven that she almost lost her place in the fantasy until he looked up and blinked. He looked like a different person until he licked his lips and she saw a glimpse of desire that she didn’t think she’d ever grow tired of seeing.
“They’re getting restless now, competitive. My blond warrior leans over and nudges the other out of the way and sucks my clit into his mouth. His darker companion thrusts two thick fingers into me. They’ve done this before, so perfectly that my body remembers the pleasure, riding out the waves curling through me with each tug and slide. I come screaming and tell them it was a tie. They both win. I ask them what they want. They smile and tell me I know.”
“And do you?”
“It’s my fantasy, I’m the prize. They want what I want, both of them penetrating me, filling me up, taking me to that place where nothing is forbidden.” She was rewarded with his harsh intake of breath, exciting her more. “First they have to prepare me, working me with their clever oily fingers until I’m ready to scream, ready to come just from that pressure alone.
“The blond gladiator lifts me until I’m astride him and I slide onto to his erection. He’s so ready he’s grasping my hips, guiding me. He pulls me down, kisses me. I get lost in the kiss, the bliss of his penetration, the anticipation of what’s coming. The smaller, darker gladiator hovers behind me, teasing me with his fingers, stretching me until I can take his slender cock. He eases into me slowly, letting me become accustomed to the sublime feeling of being totally filled. And then there are hands and mouths and that furious edge that happens when an orgasm is just out of reach. Until they find the rhythm that catches us all. Thrusting and sliding, until like dominoes we each come, clutching one another, riding out the fading thrill, our whispers and shouts mingling as we end up in a sweaty heap of spent bodies.”
She sighed, stretching, not caring if she ruined the pose. “Then of course we spend the rest of the night bathing each other in the heated pool, finding reasons to hold our breath under water.”
He stopped sketching, his eyes narrowed and her heart did a scared little flip that she’d finally gone too far.
“Why hasn’t anyone ever locked you in a tower before and turned you into their love slave?”
“Probably because I’ve never told anyone the things I’ve told you,” she said softly, her heart careening into a different rhythm, thrumming in her ears.
He flipped the sketch pad closed, threw it on the rug by his chair, and ripped the condom packet open with his teeth. She stretched again as he stalked toward her. She lifted her arms but instead of coming down he straddled the narrow chaise, dragged her legs toward him flipping them up over his thighs before he grabbed her hips and guided himself into her. There was nothing to do but hold on, clutch the sides of the chaise and give herself up to Jake’s furious thrust, watch his eyes glitter with need, desire.
Afterward, he lowered them both to the couch, waited until her tremors subsided then began again, slowly, methodically. As his hair brushed over her breasts Ella’s only coherent thought was that Jake Truhorn was addictive. And instead of frightening her she found it exciting.
They walked back to the house carrying their clothes, letting the late September breeze cool them until Ella shivered. Jake scooped her up and carried her into the house, slamming the door shut with his foot before putting her down and kissing her senseless.
“How do you feel about games?” he asked and his B-movie evil genius grin was back.
“What haven’t we played yet?” she laughed, holding onto his broad shoulders, happier than she could ever remember being.
“Sex toy poker.”
* * * * *
Jake had made it up, down to the hand-lettered white tiles that a friend had fired for him, stacked inside an ornately carved box he’d bought in a market in Marrakesh. He shuffled the tiles around on top of the glossy black coffee table while she finished drying off from her shower. He’d already assembled his “chips” and poured them each a glass of wine by the time she hurried up the stairs to retrieve her toys.
“You know I’ve had a lot of years to collect these things don’t you?” she called from the loft bedroom before he heard her on the stairs coming back down.
“Antique sex toys are worth double the points,” he said easily before he thought better of it.
She only laughed. “I am so going to beat the pants off of you.”
“That would be strip poker, my love.” He turned and flashed a cheeky smile right before his mouth went dry. She was wearing only a long white bath sheet tied toga style around her shoulder that would have appeared much more chic if she hadn’t been carrying a dark black sack with girly pink letters too twisted to make out.
She sat down, opening the sack. The first toy she drew out was a slim pink jelly dildo that she snapped into a black leather harness.
He squirmed before he could stop himself. “Where the hell did you get that?”
“I won it at one of those sexy lingerie parties. What do you think?”
He shook his head. “I’ll let you know as soon as some of my blood rushes back to my brain.”
“So, what are the rules tonight?”
“First hand is standard draw, second lowball and the third is you play the hand you’re dealt. Two out of three gets first pick of the toys and how they’re used.”
“So what are the tiles for?”
“The tiles are a guideline for the bet. No tiles required for the ante.”
She grinned and placed a pair of silver nipple clamps on the gleaming surface of the coffee table. He matched it with a bottle of vanilla massage oil, shuffled the cards, mint-condition peek-a-boo nudes circa 1950 and dealt the first hand.
She drew one card and the edge of her lip curled. He drew three, completed a flush, all spades and picked up a tile. Get lost in a dream, relive a wicked scene. Jake slid a DVD, its black and white hand-drawn cover, definitely art-house. The Quiet Maid was a silent erotic thriller, modern film noir.
Ella saw his movie with The Gladiator’s Prize and stuck her nose in the air when he smirked. She added a bejeweled belly chain. He countered with a chandelier earring she’d dangled from her nipple by its ear wire and had forgotten in his hotel room one long year ago. He grinned when he beat her two pair.
She dealt the next hand, picked up a tile and flipped it over. Into the drink, it never shrinks. One very slim, pink jelly dildo, sans black leather harness. He set a small brocade box in the pot and opened the lid revealing a set of silver Ben Wa balls, which she saw with a box of iridescent glow-in-the-dark condoms. His straight would have beaten her two pair if they hadn’t been playing lowball.
He dealt the third and last hand, the one they couldn’t change and his tile read Squeeze Me. Tease Me. One adjustable cockring. She wasn’t even attempting to hide her smile when she laid down the ball harness she’d already used on him a
nd with any luck would again, and added the braided red cords.
She laid her full house down, aces high with a pair of fives. He let her enjoy herself for about three seconds before laying down his straight flush, all diamonds.
“If I didn’t know you better I’d be looking for marks on these cards,” she laughed.
“That would be like slapping a coat of paint on a priceless antique,” he said, just managing to keep the tremor of excitement out of his voice. “I’ve never understood wanting to change something that was perfect already.” He eyed the treasure on the table but he already knew what he wanted. He grabbed the pink jelly dildo and the bottle of vanilla massage oil.
“Wait until I call you and feel free to make use of anything left on the table.”
“Oh, your wish is my command,” she laughed, taking a sip of wine. “For tonight anyway.”
After starting the bath he unrolled a cushioned exercise mat, laid it over the oriental carpet closest to the sunken tub, layered plush white towels over that and angled the cheval glass to catch it all. He lit the candle sconces set into alcoves along the walls, opened the sliding doors to the outside walled garden letting in the scent of lavender and the sound of the rippling fountain. It was as close to a Roman Bath as she was going to get tonight. He was already hard thinking about doing the work of two men when he slipped a handful of condoms beneath the towels.
He shrugged off his jeans and tucked a towel around his hips. He couldn’t resist carrying her from the living room to the bath. When he released her she slid against him, kissing him while he untied her towel toga and let it fall. She was wearing the silver nipple clamps and belly chain, candlelight sparkling off the small ruby heart pointed like an arrow down to her bare lips—smooth as a peach, plump and perfect.
Ella let her eyes drift shut for the moment it took him to lower her to the towel-covered mat. “I thought this was supposed to be your fantasy.”
“I haven’t been able to think of much else since I sketched you,” he whispered against her lips. She shivered, opened her eyes and lay back with her arms above her head, anticipation sizzling through her as he poured warm oil between her breasts and released the clamps. The slight pressure had built to just the right peak to appreciate the slide of his tongue over her sensitized nipples, the soothing caress of his lips.
No Holds Barred Page 5
