The Affair: Week 4

by BETH KERY

  “Ian,” she murmured. He looked up, meeting her stare, and she knew her heart was in her eyes.

  “You shouldn’t look at me like that. You know what it does to me.”

  “I’m sorry,” she replied.

  “No you’re not,” he said grimly, moving toward her head and unbuttoning his shirt fleetly as he did so. He whipped the shirt over his shoulders. Her stare lowered covetously over bulging, lean muscle. She’d learned over the past several months that when she was bound, her eyes had to take the place of her greedy fingers, making her a keener observer. Since Ian also blindfolded her at times, her nerves, too, had become exquisitely sensitive to his every move and touch. “And I’m not either, to be honest,” he continued. “If I could bottle that look in your eyes, I would.”

  She was in such a powerful, strangely combined state of both satiation and sustained arousal, it took her a moment to notice his rigid, and yet somehow hesitant expression as he stroked her neck, the sides of her breasts and ribs, making her quiver with pleasure.

  “What is it?” she asked quietly, puzzled by his mood.

  He didn’t speak for a moment, just continued to caress her with his large, warm hand.

  “I would like to video you while we continue. Just your face,” he added quickly when she didn’t immediately speak.

  “Why?” she asked, even though she thought she knew the answer.

  His expression grew unreadable, but she sensed his turmoil nonetheless. “Like I said, I would bottle your sweetness if I could,” he admitted. “Carry you with me everywhere.”

  Her heart seemed to swell two sizes in her breast. He’d known so much pain in his life . . . been so fearful of abrupt rejection, been primed for unexpected fearful, and even violent, reactions from a schizophrenic mother.

  “All that I am is always here for you, Ian,” she said softly. “But of course you can video me, if you think it will help . . . somehow.”

  His averted gaze zoomed to her face. “You’re sure? Of course you know it will only be for me. I will guard it assiduously.”

  She smiled. “I know that. Do you think I’d allow it otherwise?”

  His nostrils flared slightly as he studied her. “You think it’s an odd request, don’t you?”

  “No. I don’t share your need, but I understand it, Ian. I do,” she added pointedly.

  He leaned down and kissed the diamonds on her bound hand—the engagement ring he’d given her weeks ago.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  His solemn manner made her eyes moisten. She was glad when he moved away. When he returned to her field of vision, he carried a small video camera. He set it on the bureau and quickly focused it, the lens aimed toward her head.

  “It’s trained on your face,” he said as he approached her again a moment later. She noticed that far from diminishing during the brief absence from her, his erection appeared every bit as firm, heavy and flagrant. Her love and trust in him made her glory in the evidence that it aroused him to tape her during sex. It was merely another level of intimacy for them to explore. She wasn’t put off by his request.

  “You know I love seeing you give yourself to me,” he said, stroking her hips and then her lower belly, his long fingers inching toward her mons and spread pussy. “This way, I will have the vision always available to me.”

  “Wouldn’t you rather have me in person?” she asked, her cheeks flushing as he teased her, his long, talented fingers tickling skin just inches away from where she burned. She whimpered when he caressed her humid inner thighs.

  “I would prefer to have you in person a million times over,” he assured, his mouth twitching into a small smile. “What sane man wouldn’t want this . . .” he paused, plunging a thick, long finger into her slit, making her inhale sharply. “Exquisite flesh?” he finished.

  She was so aroused, she could hear him as he moved in her wet pussy, finger-fucking her. He withdrew and immediately transferred his lubricated finger to her clit, rubbing her so accurately her eyes rolled back in her head and she clamped her lids shut. His innate talent in combination with the clitoral stimulant was almost unbearably potent and precise.

  “No, lovely. Open your eyes. Look at me.”

  She strove to do what he demanded, focusing on his much-loved face. He continued to stimulate her clit bulls-eye fashion. Her lips trembled. He was going to bring her off again very, very soon.

  “What do you enjoy better?” he asked unsmilingly. “A vibrator or my hand?”

  “Your hand,” she said without hesitation, pressing her hips against the divine pressure. “Always your hand. Your touch,” she added shakily.

  “The video will be the same for me. I allow you to use a vibrator in my absence, don’t I?”

  “Yes,” she mouthed, too overwhelmed with growing arousal to speak audibly.

  “But you would rather have me?” he asked, and despite his typical palpable confidence, she heard the thread of uncertainty in his voice . . . of naked need.

  “A million times over,” she repeated his words brokenly, looking into his scoring blue eyes. Emotion overcame her. She clamped her eyes shut, a tear shooting down her cheek, and came against his hand.

  She returned from the realms of bliss at the sensation of the plug sliding out of her ass. He was almost immediately there—a fuller, throbbing replacement. He held her stare as he slowly entered her, his eyes a brilliant contrast to his rigid features. The raw intensity of the moment overwhelmed her. There wasn’t a spot in her body or soul she wouldn’t willingly give him.

  “Don’t look away,” he said harshly when he pressed his testicles against her buttocks and she gasped for air that didn’t seem to adequately expand her lungs. He must have sensed how powerful the moment was for her. He spread his hands on her hips and began to fuck her, his pelvis slapping rhythmically against her ass. “Don’t ever look away, Francesca.”

  He sounded almost angry, but she knew he wasn’t. It was the intensity of the moment that strained his voice. She merely shook her head, too inundated by the sensation of his cock plunging in and out of such an intimate place, too saturated with love and desire to do anything but surrender. The clitoral cream in combination with Ian’s primal possession made her burn yet again. Even the soles of her feet heated and prickled. He spread his hand over her lower belly, continuing to thrust his cock in and out of her. She cried out sharply, her back arching slightly off the bed, when he slid his thumb between her labia and rubbed her clit.

  “Oh no,” she gasped, hardly aware of what she was saying.

  “Yes,” he corrected between clenched teeth. “Open your eyes.”

  She did as he demanded, not realizing she’d closed them as ecstasy mounted. The sounds of their bodies smacking together faster and faster seemed to match the pounding of her heart in her ears. His thumb moved, creating a delicious friction. She was about to ignite like the tip of a struck match. She focused on him with effort, biting off a moan. Sweat sheened his face, chest and ridged abdomen.

  “Tell me you love me,” he rasped.

  “I love you so much.”

  “Always.”

  “Yes. Always,” she said, her lips trembling as she crested. She felt him swell inside her, the slight pain of discomfort only fueling her desire, providing the edge she needed to come. Her sharp cry was silenced by Ian’s roar of release.

  A moment later, he fell between her bound legs, holding himself off her with his arms braced on the mattress, both of them still quaking and panting in the aftermath of the sheering storm of climax. A drop of sweat fell in her eyes. It burned, but she didn’t blink; the image of him was too beautiful.

  “I’ll call Lucien and Elise and cancel for tonight,” Ian said, his gaze running over her face.

  “It’ll be too late. They’ll already be on their way. Besides, you could use an evening with friends. You always seem
to relax and enjoy yourself around Lucien. He has a good effect on you.”

  His mouth twitched. “I enjoy myself much more around you. And you wouldn’t believe how relaxed I am at the moment.”

  “You know what I mean. You’ve been under so much stress lately, with your mother being ill.” Her grin faded. After a moment of studying him, she reconsidered. “Do you really want to cancel?”

  He straightened and slowly withdrew from her, grimacing as he did so. “Yes,” he answered honestly as he began to unbind her arms and legs. “I’d rather spend the night with you right here,” he said after a moment. He shot her a darkly amused glance as he whipped the rope around her limbs, releasing her restraints with as much methodical precision as he’d made them. “But I suppose I shouldn’t be so selfish. A couple hours spent with friends isn’t going to make a big difference in the scheme of things. I’ll be back in bed with you soon enough, right?”

  “Absolutely.”

  An inexplicable chill passed over her heated flesh like an invisible shadow, and was gone in an instant. She sighed with relief as she straightened her freed legs and stretched like a content cat.

  She hardly thought about her automatic, certain reply until later. Naturally she and Ian would be here together later.

  They would be in one another’s arms, where they belonged.

  Beth Kery loves romance, and the more emotionally laden and sexy the romance, the better. She holds a doctorate degree in the behavioral sciences and enjoys using her knowledge of human nature to add depth and intensity to her stories. She is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling novelist of over thirty novels.