A Lesson in Desire: Season of Desire Part 3 (Seasons Quartet)

by Sadie Matthews

  Miles takes a step towards me and says, ‘I think fire first… Yes. Fire is the best way to start.’ He takes me by the hand and leads me towards the fireplace where the flames are still flickering around an almost consumed log. Leaning down, he picks up another and throws it into the molten orange heart of the fire, making sparks crackle and explode as fresh flames leap up around it. Miles moves to stand behind me, his body very near to mine. I can feel him achingly close, the soft cashmere of his jumper almost touching my bare shoulder blades. His mouth is close by my ear.

  ‘Watch the fire, Winter. Amazing, isn’t it? It’s fascinated mankind since we first discovered it, although the Greeks would have us believe that Prometheus stole fire from the gods, an act that earned him the peculiar torment of having his liver eaten by an eagle, only for it grow back so it could be eaten again the following day.’

  The buzz of his voice in my ear is a torment too. I long to turn my face to his so that he can kiss me, or so that I can at least feel the touch of his lips on my cheek, but I daren’t move.

  ‘Heraclitus thought of the soul as a mixture of fire and water, the hot, dry fire being the noble part, the one that contains our passion, energy and drive. Appropriate to start here, then, where our passions are kindled.’

  His mouth is tantalisingly close to my ear. I’m breathing faster, my breasts rising and falling rapidly under their light covering of golden tulle. I can feel the heat from the fire on my bare skin, and an answering warmth inside as my body prepares for pleasure.

  ‘Today, we can describe fire in a series of chemical equations, explaining everything about it: the light, colours, heat and growth of the flames. We know that it’s precious but also deadly. It provides heat and comfort but also it’s also searing, burning, destroying. Perhaps that’s why it symbolises passion so perfectly…’ His lips close around my earlobe and I gasp as I feel the light touch of his teeth on it. He sucks gently, his tongue caressing it. I sigh with the exquisite sensations he’s provoking in me just with the small sucks and licks on my ear.

  I feel a movement at my waist and realise that he is deftly clipping my wrist cuffs to the golden hoops on my belt and that my arms are now tethered. My insides clench with surprise and a rapid whirl of excitement.

  ‘Can you feel the heat?’ he asks. His hands are on my flesh now, running along my arms. His fingertips trail over the skin on my hip. ‘Yes. You’re warm.’

  My lips are dry and I lick them, my pulse racing at the touch of his fingers. I want those fingers all over my body, I want them to press inside me.

  ‘Fire is about volatility. Transformation.’ His voice is low, hypnotic. ‘Not all transformations are good: from untouched to burnt. From whole to destroyed. But others take us to places we never dreamed existed.’

  Take me to those places, Miles.

  I want to speak, but I can’t. The heat from the fire plays over my skin while Miles’s proximity is making my back burn and tingle. I’m aware of my wrists tethered to my belt. Holy hell, what’s he going to do now?

  ‘Take off your shoes.’

  I obey, stepping out of the stilettos and feeling the soft white rug beneath my feet. I’m about five inches shorter now, and Miles seems bigger and more powerful than ever. Suddenly his hands are on my shoulders and he’s pushing me gently downwards. I sink to my knees, my gaze fixed on the golden flames leaping in the fireplace. Now he’s beside me, taking me further back so that I’m lying on the soft white rug in front of the fireplace, my legs bent beneath me as if I’m offering myself in supplication to the fire. I can see him now, half-kneeling behind me, looking at my body with its golden drapery, my nipples already erect and pert against the silky fabric that covers my breasts. I stare up at him, longing for his touch, feeling at once intensely vulnerable and strangely in control. I want this. My body urgently needs him, and I’m offering it in all its vivid femininity.

  Miles leans down and kisses me on the mouth, his tongue sliding between my lips. His face is inverted to mine, so his chin touches the side of my nose as he explores my mouth. The sensation of his tongue being upside down in my mouth is curious, the probing, exploring kisses provoking a strange excitement. He kisses me, reaches down and places his hand over my mound. I twitch with the sudden, unexpected touch so close to my core. He slides his hand down over the swelling sex with its delicate covering of golden mesh and presses it between my thighs. Then, gently but firmly, he moves my legs apart, first one thigh and then the other. Now I’m open to the heat of the fire and I can feel it playing over my sex, warming me where I’m already hot and needy.

  He pulls away from my mouth, and looks down at my prone body, the wrists bound to my sides. ‘You look very beautiful,’ he murmurs. ‘Now… let’s learn a little more about fire.’

  I feel a thrill that has a shimmer of something like fear inside it.

  He goes on: ‘Fire is considered a masculine element, and in the pagan world, its tool is the candle.’ He reaches over to a candlestick on a low table by the fire and plucks the white stem of a candle from it. ‘Not surprising, really, when you consider how the candle carries and contains a flame.’ Miles put the candle lightly against my lips, drawing it over them so that I can feel the smooth waxy cylinder. I’m seized by the impulse to lick and kiss it, but I restrain myself. He runs the candle over my mouth, down my chin and neck to the base of my throat, then further to my right breast. Slowly he puts out one hand and draws the loose pleats of tulle away from that breast. I hear him draw in a breath as he exposes the full curve and I guess that he’s looking at the erect nipple that’s been straining at the cloth. He takes the candle and runs its circular edge around the sensitive area that surrounds my nipple, tickling me lightly with it. Now he pulls aside the fabric that covers the other breast and I’m entirely exposed to him. I can feel the heat from the fire flickering over my skin, and the nipples become even tighter and more erect. I long to touch Miles, or even touch myself, but my wrists are bound, there’s nothing I can do.

  Miles gets up and goes to the fire, leaning over it so that his large form blocks it out. When he turns back, he is holding the candle upright so that the orange flame on its tip burns strongly, taking hold of the wick. He kneels down in front of me, between my open thighs, and I gaze at him. I’m utterly prone before him, my sex still covered with the mesh knickers and silk drapery but my breasts exposed, cupped by the fabric that’s tethered to the belt just below my wrists.

  This is so exciting. But what is he going to do with that candle?

  He’s staring at me intently, his eyes dark with lust. Then he says softly, ‘Like so many things, fire can bring pain… and pleasure.’ He brings the flickering candle up towards my chest. ‘You just have to know how to control it.’

  The golden light jumps and sways before me. Beneath, a shimmering pool of molten wax is gathering. Miles moves the candle smoothly so that it is directly above my left breast. Then, slowly, he tips it so that a drop of the liquid wax trembles on the candle’s rim and then falls, landing exactly on my nipple.

  A sharp, burning sensation floods out over the sensitive bud and I gasp loudly.

  ‘Shhh,’ he says soothingly. ‘Don’t respond at once. Control yourself. Let yourself feel it.’

  I bite my lip to stop any more sounds escaping, and close my eyes instead. The sensation of pain subsides, leaving a delightful throbbing in my nipple, and an answering clench below, where my sex is swelling and growing juicy. I can feel the mesh of my knickers getting damp as desire floods me. I open my eyes again. Miles moves the candle to my other breast and does the same as before, tipping it slowly so that I can watch the clear blob swell on its rim and then fall, encasing my nipple with a hot coating of wax. As I gasp and moan again at the stab of pain and the echo of pleasure, he pours a stream of wax down my cleavage towards my waist. Then he blows out the candle and puts it on the hearth.

  ‘Fire causes a change of state,’ he murmurs, ‘from solid to liquid, and when the heat is removed, th
e liquid becomes solid again.’

  Miles brings his face close to my left breast. I can see that the nipple is covered in a white cap of wax. He carefully puts his forefinger and thumb on either side of it and tugs gently so that the cap comes off, making my nipple tingle with delight as it’s freed. Immediately he takes it in his mouth, sucking and pulling hard on the pert bud so that I can’t help moaning again. It’s beautiful. I had no idea my nipples were capable of giving me so much pleasure. The yanking pull of his mouth on my breast is exciting, making me move my hips in time with the deep sucks on my nipple. When it’s exquisitely tormented, he moves to the other, repeating the process of freeing it from its waxen prison and then sucking it into reddened torment.

  When I look down, I can see Miles kneeling between my legs, his form dark against the flickering firelight, his head bent over my breast as he sucks it. I wish I could touch him and caress him but I can’t move my wrists from the side of my dress. I can only writhe with the effect of the wild sensations he’s causing in my body, and gasp with the intensity of what I feel. In my core, I can feel a mad longing building.

  I have to have him. This need has to be slaked.

  I want him to release my hands so that I can tear off his clothes, dig my nails into the skin on his back, find his hard length and pull it into my depths, where I’m so hungry for it. At the very least, I wish he would press himself against the swelling mound where my clit is already stiff against the gold mesh of my knickers, and give me a little of the relief I crave.

  I mustn’t force it. I have to wait.

  At last he releases my nipple with a tiny popping sound and turns his attention away from my breasts. Now he follows the waxen trail down between them, and his hand plays lightly around my belt and then at the silken ribbon of my knickers. I bite my lip again as he runs his finger under the ribbon, tantalisingly close to my mound but still so far away. Then he takes hold of the end of one of the bows I tied earlier and tugs so that it slips free.

  I can’t help myself whimpering with anticipation as he folds the triangle of golden mesh gently away.

  ‘Oh, Winter,’ he murmurs. ‘You’re ready for me, I can tell. You’re learning very well about the transformative power of fire.’

  ‘Please,’ I say, my voice light and breathless, ‘I need more.’

  ‘All in good time. This is your lesson, not mine. Relax and surrender to it.’ His voice is low and hypnotic. I close my eyes and relax my head, letting the tension out of my body. ‘That’s better. Only when you stop fighting it can you begin to experience it.’

  I know I’m not fighting anything, except my own desire and need to move things along at the frenzied pace my body is demanding. But I understand: Miles is dictating the order of events here, not me. The more I surrender control over what is happening, the greater the heights I’ll climb to.

  ‘There’s plenty to learn, Winter. No need to hurry it.’ His tone is gentle, caressing. Now his hand begins to play over me, touching me lightly, stroking me. I feel completely exposed to him, my sex now open to the fire and to his gaze. I open my eyes and see that he’s looking at me, his dark blue eyes fixed on mine. He smiles and says quietly, ‘I love to see the pleasure on your face when I touch you.’

  The pressure in his fingertips grows as his hand roams over me. Now he’s touching the wet slit of my sex, trailing a burning zigzag over it. It feels as though his fingers are on fire as he moves them over me, toying with my need as the longing within me builds up to a frenzy. I’m lifting my hips to bring myself closer to his probing fingers, unable to prevent myself twisting them against his hand. I don’t think I can wait any longer. Then I feel him push his fingers between the hot lips of my sex to the entrance. He presses one finger hard inside me and it feels so good, it’s all I can do not to cry out. He slides it deep inside, letting it move effortlessly into the dark groove within me. Oh God, that’s all I want and more… He pushes another finger in and then another, stretching me as he presses inside, fucking me hard with his fingers. I want him, as deep and hard as he can give, and I thrust up to meet him. The fact that I can’t move my arms from my waist becomes unbearably exciting as I realise that my body is entirely at his mercy, and that I won’t be able to resist the pleasure that he’s intent on giving me. Now the ball of his thumb is on my clit so that as he fucks me with his fingers, the cushion of his thumb strums and rubs my bud, creating a point of hot pleasure under it. I’m gasping now, panting hard as my need for him increases. The heat from the fire seems to grow more intense as my sex gets hotter and needier. Miles’s hand plunges in and out of me, his thumb tweaking me with ever more exquisite pressure until I can take it no more. I tense and my hips buck. I can't help throwing back my head as I shout out, ‘Oh God, I’m coming, Miles!’

  Then the pleasure explodes over my body and I can only surrender to its delectable convulsions until the boiling torrent subsides and I’m left, breathless and replete. When I open my eyes again, sighing happily, Miles is staring at me.

  ‘An excellent start,’ he murmurs, his eyes dark with desire. ‘Do you think you’ve learned a little about fire, Winter?’

  I nod. ‘Oh yes. I’ve learned a lot. It… it turns solids to liquids with devastating effect.’

  He smiles. ‘Very good. You’re going to be an A-grade student, I can tell. We’d better not leave it too long before your next lesson.’ He drops a kiss on my belly and then on each of my breasts and finally on my mouth. ‘But first… a little break.’

  I’m feeling deliciously satisfied as we sit down by the fire with our glasses of champagne, still fizzy if not quite so ice cold as before. Outside, the day has darkened to a navy-blue night and the twinkling lights of Klosters are spread below us under their snow-capped roofs. In the distance, the mountains stretch away to great dark shapes clad in the shadows of pine forests.

  Miles disappears upstairs for a few minutes, leaving me time to enjoy the view. When he’s back, I say, ‘Who did you say this chalet belongs to?’

  ‘I didn’t. It’s a friend of mine, called Dominic Stone.’

  The name means nothing to me, but I nod politely.

  Miles sits down and says, ‘May I say that you’re looking even more gorgeous post-lesson?’

  I laugh, a little embarrassed as I remember that only a few minutes ago I was thrashing on the rug with Miles’s fingers buried deep inside me. The atmosphere is luxurious now, after my fierce orgasm, but still charged with tension. I might have slaked the first furious fires of my desire but I’m still hungry for the sight of Miles’s muscled body and the touch of his warm skin. ‘I have a feeling I don’t have any lipstick left,’ I say flirtatiously. My dress has been restored so that my breasts are covered again and I’ve retied the silk bow of my knickers. But my hair is most likely tousled and the high-heeled shoes are still where I abandoned them in front of the fire.

  Miles is gazing at me with an unreadable expression in his blue eyes. Whatever it is, it makes my insides turn in lazy circles of lust. ‘Are you ready to move on?’

  ‘What’s next?’ I ask playfully, and take another sip of champagne. It’s loosening me up deliciously but I don’t want to get drunk and impair my ability to enjoy this sensory experience to the full. I remember suddenly how drunk Jacob and I used to get before we had sex, on huge bottles of Kristal and litres of iced Grey Goose. Then we frolicked around madly pretending we were having the best sex in the world when really we hardly knew what was going on half the time.

  It didn’t have one quarter of the excitement I experience with Miles. One kiss from him is sexier and more arousing than a whole night with Jacob.

  More and more I’m amazed by the very idea that I might ever have loved Jacob. He seems like a lifetime ago and the person who loved him is not the girl sitting in this beautiful chalet in front of a fire, dressed in an extremely sexy gown with the handsomest, most desirable man in the world sitting opposite. I stare over at Miles, who’s looking back at me with an amused expression in hi
s eyes, his mouth twisted in one of those half smiles I like so much, and one dark eyebrow lifted just a touch.

  He’s lovely. He’s everything I want.

  The thought surprises me. So far, I’ve been entranced by Miles’s body and his overwhelming physical presence. At least, that’s what I thought. But now, as we look at each other with a kind of sexy conspiratorial amusement, I realise that ever since we’ve met he’s pushed my buttons in other ways. First, his arrogance disturbed and annoyed me. Then his calm capability and straightforward approach to saving my life made me feel safe and secure. His failure to pamper and indulge me riled me but really I wanted his attention: I wanted him to see me as a woman, not as the boss’s precious, untouchable daughter. Most of all, I wanted him to want me – not just as a sexual object but for something else.

  My mouth goes dry with the realisation.

  Oh my God. I want him to love me.

  It explodes in my brain like a light flashing on in a dark room. I feel stunned by the revelation and the next question follows like night following day.

  So do I love him?

  The idea sends me into a whirl of mad hope and wild confusion.

  Won’t that make things very complicated?

  But what am I doing here if I don’t feel something for him? Would I really come all this way, risk as much as I have, just for sex?

  For my lessons, I remind myself, and a voice replies in a knowing way, Yeah – if you want to call it that.

  I realise that Miles is speaking and I drag my attention back to him, still feeling dazed by what I’ve just been thinking.

  ‘We’re going to follow up fire with air,’ he’s saying.

  ‘Oh?’ I frown. ‘Air?’ I look towards the outside, where the temperature is clearly extremely low, if the crisp clear sky and the layers of snow are anything to go by. Does Miles want to make love out there? I’m up for most things but my skin goosebumps just thinking about it.