When three thick digits thrust inside, I gasped and lifted my hips, pumping in opposition to his gentle thrusts while my excitement wet his hand. One last firm flick of his thumb, and I exploded, crying out.
When I opened my eyes, he took the wine glass I’d very nearly spilled and set it on the table. He rose and extended a hand, helping me up and pulling down my dress. When he let go of my hand, he straightened, his expression still set, but his green eyes gleaming. “I’ll clear the table, ma’am.”
My jaw dropped as he walked away. But I quickly clamped it closed. A slow smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. I understood this game now.
I made my way upstairs, tossing clothing as I went. I was naked by the time I’d reached my bedroom. After securing my hair in a clip, I showered, using the lovely floral soaps he’d provided. When I shut the tap, I reached out to the small plate with the metal-rimmed button…and pressed it.
Moments later, Grant tapped at my door then let himself in. I exited the shower, dripping water on the baseboards. “I need a towel,” I said, pointing toward the cabinet, three feet away.
Grant retrieved one then quietly rubbed my body down, drying away the water, and lingering only slightly as he rubbed the soft Turkish linen between my legs and over my bottom.
When he straightened, his expression was that neutral mask I despised, but seemed to goad me into doing naughty things, just to wipe it away. I’d already ensured he’d seen and touched me while I was nude. Now, my brain was locked. There were too many choices, too many things I wanted…
“Will that be all, ma’am?”
I swallowed. “Would you turn down the covers?”
“Of course,” he murmured, moving away toward the bed. I followed closely, stepping lightly, but by the slight turn of his head, he knew I was on his heels.
At the bed, he pulled down the covers, displaying an inviting triangle of comfort in the soft embroidered duvet, matellase blanket, and crisp cotton sheets.
Standing on tiptoe to lean against his back, I whispered in his ear, “I need my bed warmed.” I pulled at the back of his soft sweater. “You won’t need this.”
Grant turned slowly, his eyes narrowing on me, as he removed his sweater.
His chest was cloaked in a light smattering of dark brown fur, stretching nipple to nipple. His chest was surprisingly well-developed with small, flat nipples. A trail of darker hair disappeared beneath the waist of his trousers. “You won’t need those either,” I said, licking my lips.
Without speaking, he toed off his shoes and socks, unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers. When he pushed them down, I held my breath. He was nude beneath them. His cock long and thick. Not a curve or a kink, it stood straight from a ruff of dark hair covering his groin.
Without saying a word, he lifted the covers and moved to the center of the bed, placing both of his hands beneath his head as he watched me, a muscle flexing at the side of his jaw the only other indication of his tension.
He was really here. In my bed. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact he’d followed my suggestion without hesitating. And again, I wondered whether this was something he wanted, or just something he had to do, like sending out the dry-cleaning.
I walked to the night table and pulled open a drawer. I selected a condom from the tray where they were neatly stacked. When I sat on the edge of the bed, I placed the condom beside the pillow and drew a deep breath. “Here, inside this room, you aren’t my servant. In fact, I’d prefer if you’d try to see me as a companion rather than an employer. We share this big house. It’s more than enough room for us both. If this is something you want, I’m willing.”
Grant’s face eased. His eyes glittered in the lamplight. “Are you changing my contract?”
I rolled my eyes. I couldn’t help it. “Fuck the contract. I pay for your services, but I don’t consider this one of them.”
“And if I tell you I like caring for you…” he said, his deep voice edged with something I couldn’t define.
“Then feel free to see to my comfort.”
His gaze narrowed a fraction. “If I want more?”
I took a deep breath. “Then take it.”
He sat, leaning toward me, and brushed a kiss atop my shoulder. “What about your preferences, Kendall?”
“You’ll discover them, I’m sure. You’re very intuitive,” I murmured, tilting my head to invite the slide of his lips along my neck.
“Is there anything else you’d like to say?” he asked, his voice deeper, sexier than ever.
I shook my head. My nipples were tight and dimpling, the tips extending. A shiver of anticipation crept across my belly.
Grant tossed aside the covers and pulled me toward him. I crawled over him, straddled him, and groaned when he fisted his hand in my hair and pulled me close for a kiss.
There was nothing conservative or tentative about that kiss. He devoured my mouth, lips pressing hard, his tongue sliding inside, tasting, teasing mine. The hand that wasn’t forcefully controlling my head, roamed my back then cupped my bottom, gripping it.
When he forced my head back, he was breathing hard. “I find I’m out of patience.”
Before I could think of how to respond, he moved me, gently but firmly arranging me face down, over his lap.
I gave a little laugh. The long hard column of his cock prodded my stomach, so I did know he wasn’t uninterested. Still, faced away, I couldn’t see his expression, which left me feeling a little nervous. “Not what I expected.”
“Outside of this room, I see to your comfort.”
What was he telling me? “You spoil me. You give me what I need before I even ask.”
“I see to your needs. Here,” he said, smoothing a hand over my ass, “here, I will do what pleases me.”
One hand dove between my legs, fingering my folds, gliding in my moisture, but then sliding away. Fingers spread over one buttock, warming my skin then lifting.
The slap he gave my cheek caused me to shout. It wasn’t gentle. Shocked, I wriggled, but another slap landed, and despite the fact I wasn’t sure I liked this game, the feel of his cock beneath me, so rigid and hard, digging into my skin, made me crave more. More heat. More violence—no, more passion.
Again and again, he smacked me, choosing different spots, carefully aiming, I realized, to move closer and closer to my center. Without thought, I opened my thighs, begging silently for a slap against my swollen pussy.
When it came, I moaned, buttocks lifting, breasts rubbing against the sheets. How had Grant known I’d love this? I certainly hadn’t.
Another wet slap, and then his fingers entered me, swirling inside me, thrusting deep. I fisted my hands in the bedding and writhed like a cat, rubbing his cock, lifting my ass.
When he pulled free, I whimpered. He rolled me off his lap, then moved me again with his strong hands, arranging me so that my head fell off the end of the bed and my legs were spread wide. Again, I couldn’t see him. When his breath brushed my stomach, I tightened. He lifted my thighs and placed them over his shoulders, and then with his thumbs spreading my folds, he speared his tongue inside me, lapping in circles, thirsty swallows and groans coming from him as he pleasured me with his tongue. And then his thumb tapped my clit. I clamped my thighs tightly around his head, holding him there, demanding he end my torment.
A thumb pressed against my asshole, and I jerked. I’d never been touched there. But I couldn’t get out the words to issue a complaint. I was panting too hard, gasping, my breaths coming so fast and the blood rushing to my lowered head making me dizzy.
When his tongue touched my rosette, I gave another harsher whimper and sank my fingers into his thick hair, pulling to move him away. Beyond embarrassed, I was also incredibly aroused. Grant had no inhibitions. In a single act, he’d told me without saying a word there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for my pleasure. Or his.
He licked his way back up to my pussy, spread my folds again and settled in, licking and sucking, nibbling n
ow and then at my clit until I throbbed, there between my legs, feeling my pussy thicken, my clit harden and enlarge. When his tongue stroked around and around my swollen, bared clit, I hissed between my teeth because the sensation was too much. His lips latched around it and sucked, pulling at it. My toes curled. My entire body bowed. Then I screamed as an orgasm rolled through me.
I was shaking when I came down. Crying. I’d never felt anything so powerful, never come undone like that.
Grant gathered me up and pulled me fully onto the bed, his arms cradling me against his chest as he kissed my cheek, my ear, then nuzzled into the corner of my neck.
When I could breathe again, I turned my head to meet his gaze. His face was flushed, one corner of his wet and swollen mouth curving in a satisfied smirk. I clutched his cheek, fingers sliding around his ear and into his warm hair. “I don’t have any words…”
His gaze locked with mine, and his smile stretched across his face, teeth gleaming. “I’ll enjoy this service.”
“Yours or mine?” I asked, arching a brow. “Where’s that condom?”
A plastic wrapper scratched against my shoulder, and he scraped it down to my nipple before placing it in my hand. He allowed little room between our bodies, but I managed to roll it down his turgid cock.
A moment later he rolled over me, centered himself, and thrust inside. Quick. Hard. Thickened tissue eased around him; fresh moisture lubricated his cock as he drove inward. Filled to bursting, I raised my legs. His hands pushed them farther apart, and I stared at the cornices surrounding my high ceilings, at the chandelier glittering above, but not nearly as brightly as did Grant’s lush green gaze as he watched me.
Who was servant and who truly served didn’t matter. I’d wanted solitude, calm to think and write. But I’d found so much more. Something I hadn’t known I’d needed. Someone who knew me better than I did myself. Someone who knew I needed to be pushed outside my cozy barriers.
Grant’s movements were quickening. His thrusts shortening. With a shout, he came, jerking his hips, his movements losing rhythm.
I wrapped my arms and legs around him and held him until his body stopped shuddering.
Afterward, we lay in a tangle, still upside down on the bed. His cock was still buried inside me. He undulated his hips in slow sexy strokes that kept me warm, made me feel as though I was riding a gentle ocean wave. I wanted him to stay right there. Keep moving, until he was fully hard again, and he could fuck me again. Right then, I wanted to stay like this, connected, until he felt the same way I did. Like I was a part of him. Owned by him.
“The butler’s buttons…” I began softly.
“Mmm?” he hummed, nuzzling my neck.
“They’re awfully inconvenient.”
He drew back his head, studying my face. “Too much of a walk? You lazy thing.”
“Too much of a walk for you, I think.”
“My apartment is pretty far away.” He raised both brows, waiting.
“Two floors and the opposite side of the house.”
“This is your space, Kendall,” he said, his voice softening.
“I know you don’t like change, but we can make it ours.”
He grunted. A rude sound so out of character it made me smile.
Grant came up one elbow. “I won’t be a kept man. I mean to continue to earn my way.”
“We both have our work.”
“This isn’t work.”
I liked that he’d found enjoyment. Still, I felt a twinge of doubt. “Then what is it?”
“Pleasure. Companionship. Is that enough for now?” he asked, smoothing back my hair.
“And when you want more…or less? You’ll tell me, won’t you?”
He shook his head, a light of mischief in his eyes. “I won’t tell you. I’ll take it.”
I took a deep breath. “And if I want more.”
“Kendall,” he said, tilting his head. “We’ve both been here a long, long while. Waiting for you. We’ll be here when you realize you belong.”
I didn’t wonder what he meant. The house and Grant were one. That undercurrent I’d always sensed, the one that had made me feel as though I didn’t belong, couldn’t, because I’d been crass enough to buy the place, to purchase him, captured me at last. I swept my arms around him and cuddled my cheek against his. “Then, I’m home,” I whispered, surrendering. “But I would like to talk about the carpet in the salon…”
About Delilah Devlin
Delilah Devlin is a New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of erotica and sexy romance with a rapidly expanding reputation for writing deliciously edgy stories with complex characters. She has published over a hundred sixty erotic stories in multiple genres and lengths, and she is published by Atria/Strebor, Avon, Berkley, Black Lace, Cleis Press, Ellora’s Cave, Grand Central, Harlequin Spice, HarperCollins: Mischief, Kensington, Kindle, Kindle Worlds, Montlake Romance, Running Press, and Samhain Publishing.
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If you love a longer story, check out her sexy UNCHARTED SEALS series:
Watch Over Me
Navy SEAL Deke Warrick’s unsanctioned detail is to keep tabs on a congressman’s daughter while she vacations in the Caribbean. He’s determined to keep his distance from the beautiful Nicky Martir, but finds his limits tested when Nicky sets out to seduce him. What seemed like a simple mission becomes deliciously complicated—and then dangerous, when she’s snatched from their hotel room.
Her Next Breath
Ex-SEAL Jackson “Jax” Keller’s first mission with the Charter Group’s spec ops unit is a bust. Instead of capturing a drug lord in his Mexican compound, he finds a beautiful, naked woman. But she may have information they need to nail the narco-terrorist, so he takes her, sealing his fate. She’s his to watch, his to “manage” until the op’s done.
Suri McAnally’s made some mistakes—mainly trusting her college roomie who just so happens to be the son of one of Mexico’s most dangerous drug lords. If Jackson can save her, she’ll do whatever he says, mirror his moves, and try to keep her insta-lust under control. Her next breath depends on it.
Through Her Eyes
Ex-SEAL and expert sniper, Wolf Kinkaid, is taking a little downtime while he considers his options. Being wooed by two elite black ops groups, he’s enjoying Charter Group’s beach house while he considers his options. A loner by nature as well as occupation, he wonders if he’ll ever really connect to the people around him. Afraid his loner nature will sentence him to spending his life alone, he’s not sure he wants to continue looking down a scope, even if the pay’s good.
Bounty hunter Piper Ames loves the adrenaline rush she gets from her high-stakes hunts, but now, she has time on her hands as she waits for her collar to pop up his head so she can take him down. While she’s waiting, it doesn’t hurt that a big, buff, ex-military type is staying right next door. Not the least shy about going after what she wants, she’s surprised when he’s equally as aggressive. Their chemistry is off the charts, and the sex is the hottest she’s ever had.
While Wolf and Piper connect in the only way their independent natures allow, danger lurks. When her target comes, guns blazing, they have to pull together to make it out alive.
Dream of Me
After losing her partner and lover in a shootout, New Orleans police officer Aislin Dupree is tormented by memories of the past and the day she lost Marc LeBrun. At her darkest hour, she discovers that Marc had planned a romantic getaway on a Caribbean island before his death. All expenses paid. She decides to take the trip, hoping the island getaway will help her come to terms with her sorrow. Instead, she meets a man, a friend of Marc’s from his time served as Navy SEAL.
Sam Blalock is like Ma
rc in so many ways that he makes her ache for what she once had. Strong, rugged Sam is her rock, holding her when she breaks, encouraging her to move on, because he knows about the pain of loss and the horror of violence all too well. She soon finds her waking hours consumed by Sam while she roams her dreams in search of Marc. As the time approaches for her to go home, she’s afraid to let go of the connection she’s found, and she fears she might be holding onto Sam for all the wrong reasons while she imagines another reality where dreams do come true.
Baby, It’s You
Carter Vance, Jr. stands at the fork in the road. Wounded in action, the Navy SEAL has a decision to make: whether to find work with a spec ops unit, or return to his family ranch in Texas and repair his fractured relationship with his dying father and the woman he wronged. Complicating the decision is his reignited attraction to Melanie Schaeffer and his confusion over his feelings for his dead brother’s little girl, whom Melanie has raised since his brother’s and her sister’s deaths by a terrorist’s bomb.
The Butler Page 2
