With the Lights On

by Jackie Ashenden

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Trajan

  SHE LAY ACROSS my lap, her head on my shoulder, her face fully in the light. The delicious flush in her cheeks made her dark eyes ever darker as they searched mine.

  I didn’t know how I’d given myself away, but I had. She was so sensitive when it came to picking up mood, and if there was one thing I should have remembered about her it was that. Clearly she’d heard something in my voice as I’d mentioned how she’d got me to smile, though I thought I’d managed to keep the bittersweet aspect to that memory out of it.

  Bittersweet, because I hadn’t realised until that night that I hadn’t smiled in too long. That my life up until then had been consumed with getting Howard and Hart off the ground with Eli. It had been a serious business, and Eli and I had worked hard. He’d been battling with his own issues—he’d been horrifically scarred in a house fire—and then, with my sight loss suddenly starting to accelerate, everything had felt like darkness and shadow.

  Until Honey had turned up, bringing with her the promise of light and warmth. Of smiles and laughter. Making me remember what it was like to sit with someone, sipping wine and casually talking about nothing, just enjoying someone’s company.

  I’d deliberately kept the lights low, so I hadn’t been able to see, but her voice had been like a balm I hadn’t even realised I needed. There had been laughter in her voice and I’d found myself smiling in return, wishing I could see her face...

  ‘It wasn’t a bad thing.’ I wasn’t going to tell her about my sight, but I could give her some of the truth. ‘I just hadn’t realised how serious my life had become until you turned up.’

  Her brow wrinkled in concern. ‘Too serious?’

  ‘Yeah, far too serious.’ I touched her mouth, drinking in the lovely shape. ‘The past couple of years I’ve been building up my company and, even though it’s doing well now, it was hard work. Not enough time to play.’

  I felt her body shift as her arm lifted, and then came the light touch of her fingers in my hair. ‘You looked serious,’ she said. ‘And so very stern. I kept wittering on about all this crap and I couldn’t shut myself up. I thought you’d never book another night with me but...well, you did.’

  Letting go of one silk-clad hip, I ran my hand up her arm to where she was touching my hair, closing my fingers around her wrist and drawing her hand away. Her touch was already insanely distracting, and I didn’t want to be distracted, not now she was lying across my lap and I had seduction in mind.

  ‘I did,’ I agreed, lifting her hand to my mouth and brushing a kiss across the backs of her knuckles. ‘And I didn’t find your wittering crap. Now, are you going to let me continue with this seduction or not?’

  Her mouth curved and I felt the soft weight of her body relax. There was a curious light feeling in my chest, a fizzy excitement in my blood, like champagne. It felt good. It felt as if there had been a lump of granite pressing down on me, as if I were slowly being crushed, for months now, and the only relief I had from it was when she visited me.

  Yeah, everything had been too serious, too grey and too dark, and right now I could have this lightness. The sunlight of her in my hands. And so why the fuck not? Why shouldn’t I tease her a little? Flirt with her a little? Make her smile?

  Why couldn’t I have the memory of fun and pleasure to take with me when she left and I lost the rest of my sight?

  Sure, maybe I didn’t deserve it—but, fuck, I was going to take it anyway. If I was going to endure a lifetime of penance for the accident that had nearly killed Susannah, then surely a few hours of pleasure wouldn’t make that penance less effective?

  ‘I suppose so.’ Maggie’s voice was full of warmth. ‘Though, it has to be said, you’re taking your time.’

  ‘Taking my time is the whole point.’ I placed her hand down in her lap. ‘You’ve had very little experience of this, have you?’

  She wrinkled her nose. ‘I don’t know if I’d want to put a number on my experience but...’

  ‘I’m talking about being seduced.’ I let my fingers trail over the warm, silky skin of her collar bone again, brushing over the fast beat of her pulse. ‘As well you know.’

  ‘Technically I don’t need to be seduced,’ she said with a trace of dry humour. ‘Not given a man’s best seduction technique is the money that turns up in my bank account.’

  I laid a finger over that plush mouth. ‘Quiet, Honey. Let Maggie speak.’

  Her breath was warm against my skin as she sighed, no doubt preparing to protest.

  But I went on before she could. ‘Don’t be nervous, sweetheart. This is for you, remember?’ I knew it would be hard for her to give up control, to let me take the lead instead of being Honey and subtly directing me.

  Honey, I was rapidly discovering, was the mask she wore when she was nervous, and she was definitely nervous being Maggie.

  It made me wonder why. Something to do with that grandmother of hers, no doubt, and that seemed especially certain since she hadn’t answered when I’d straight out asked her. Part of me wanted to push, but that wasn’t the mood I wanted to build right now. I didn’t want her upset or angry, not when what I wanted to give her was pleasure.

  ‘Okay,’ she whispered after a moment. ‘It’s just...difficult not to be Honey sometimes.’

  ‘I get that. But you don’t have to do anything, remember? All you have to do is lie here and let me do all the work.’ I turned my hand over, brushing the backs of my knuckles across her skin, gliding down to the neckline of her silky red dress. ‘Tell me, Maggie. What do you like?’

  She shifted on me, arching into my hand. I couldn’t see anything more than her face filling the small circle of my central vision. But, for the first time since I could remember, I felt no need to see anything more. To wish I could see the wider world.

  For once, everything I wanted to see was right here in front of me.

  Her breathing was coming faster now, and her voice, when she spoke, was huskier. ‘I...don’t know.’ She let out a soft laugh, even though there was no amusement in it. ‘I really don’t know. Crazy, huh? I’m twenty-five and I don’t even know what I like.’

  I was surprised. I couldn’t deny it. Had she really not thought about this? Surely she must fantasise with her clients?

  I didn’t want to get into thinking about her with other men—the thought made something dark and possessive coil inside me—but seduction was about doing something the other person enjoyed, and if I didn’t know what she enjoyed how could I seduce her?

  ‘Not at all?’ I asked, the thought that she really might not know making my chest go tight.

  ‘I lost my virginity at eighteen in the back of a guy’s car after prom. And since then I haven’t had a relationship so, no.’

  Shit. She really hadn’t.

  ‘What about your clients?’

  ‘That’s a job. And it’s not about me, it’s about them.’

  I stroked down over the curve of her breast, letting my fingertips lightly graze the soft point of her nipple. She shivered in response, the tip hardening almost immediately.

  Fuck, she was responsive. Sensitive too. A soft, sensual woman...

  ‘Do you get any pleasure from them?’

  ‘I don’t fake it, so...’ She stopped, sighing as I let my fingertip circle her nipple lightly through the fabric of her dress. ‘I suppose...what I think about is...being with someone who cares about me. Who wants to please me.’

  ‘I can understand that.’ I looked down into her flushed face. She’d closed her eyes again, gold lashes lying still on her cheeks. ‘Do you want to tell me what to do?’ It wasn’t my thing, but I’d do it for her if that was what got her off.

  ‘No.’ She gave another soft laugh. ‘God, no. I tell clients what to do all the time, even when they’re not aware of it. I’m always controlling things. I don’t want to do tha
t now.’

  ‘Then will you trust me to do it? To be in control?’

  There was a silence, and I could hear the beat of my heart suddenly loud in my head. I hadn’t realised how important her answer was to me until this moment.

  Her lashes lifted and her dark eyes looked into mine. ‘Yes,’ she said quietly. ‘I trust you.’

  She shouldn’t. Not when I’d essentially been lying to her all this time. But then that was why I’d hired her. Why I’d paid money for this. So I could lie.

  Was that why she’d said she trusted me? Because of my money? Or was it me?

  But I wasn’t here to second-guess. Whatever she was trusting, it was enough that I believed her. And, besides, it was only her pleasure she was trusting me with, and that I could certainly provide.

  There was something warm in my chest, though, an easing of something tight. As if I’d wanted her to give me this on some level, as if I’d been waiting for it.

  You need it.

  Maybe I did. It was certainly the last time I’d ever have anyone trust me to look out for them. Not when it was soon going to be vice versa. Which meant I was going to take this opportunity and enjoy every fucking minute of it.

  ‘You won’t regret it.’ I let her see what her trust meant to me, because if she could give me something then I wanted to give her something back. ‘I’ll make it good for you, Maggie. I promise.’

  An expression I couldn’t interpret rippled over her face as I said her name. ‘Okay.’ Her voice sounded much more breathless now.

  I circled the hard point of her nipple with one finger, keeping my touch light and delicate, watching her face. ‘Do you like that?’

  Her throat moved, her body quivering slightly as I grazed over the hard tip of her breast. ‘Yes. That’s...good.’

  I did it again, brushing my finger back and forth over her nipple, feeling it get even harder. ‘What about this?’

  Her lashes fell closed and she shuddered. ‘Oh, yes... Don’t stop.’

  I took my hand away.

  Instantly her eyes flicked open again and her brows drew together, an aggrieved look on her face. ‘You stopped.’

  I smiled, because she wasn’t the only one who was going to get immense pleasure out of this. I was too. And I couldn’t fucking wait. ‘I’m proving a point.’

  ‘What point? Isn’t this supposed to be about what I want?’

  ‘Sure it is. But I’m the one in control, which means I get to decide how to give you the most pleasure. And sometimes that won’t be what you want in that moment.’ I raised a brow. ‘You still okay with that?

  ‘This conversation sounds horribly familiar.’ She sounded so annoyed and flustered. It was adorable.

  ‘Feel free to say no.’ I eased the tip of my finger over her nipple again. ‘At any time.’

  She shifted restlessly on my lap. ‘Fine. Got any other points you want to prove?’

  ‘Possibly. But let’s see how things go.’

  ‘I suppose telling you to get on with it won’t make any difference?’

  Slowly, I spread my hand out beneath the curve of one silk-covered breast, my fingers lightly pressing down and squeezing gently, testing the weight of it against my palm and moulding it carefully. Then I dragged my thumb over the hard little tip of her nipple once more.

  Her breath hitched as she caught her upper lip between her teeth, her lashes fluttering.

  ‘No,’ I said softly. ‘No difference at all.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  Magdalen

  THINKING WAS GRADUALLY becoming difficult. The movement of Trajan’s thumb over my achingly hard nipple was sending hot, bright shocks of pleasure along all my nerve endings. It was so strange that just that touch, just his thumb teasing my nipple, could get me so hot and so desperate, when I’d felt next to nothing with other clients doing things far more intense and sexual to me.

  God, he hadn’t touched me anywhere else and already I could feel the building pressure between my thighs, that dragging ache. What could he do to me with more?

  Perhaps I should have been afraid. The intensity of all the sensations was so new to me, and sex had never been anything more than a job.

  And it was also strange how weird I’d felt when he’d asked me about my clients. I didn’t discuss them with anyone, period, but I’d felt compelled to answer. Because I didn’t fake my orgasms. Strangers didn’t have a policy about faking, but they advised employees not to do it, and I never did. I wanted to give clients the best possible experience, and most of them wanted it to feel real, even when it wasn’t. Many of them were lonely and most often the sex was simply about having another warm human body to hold and to be held in return, to have a moment of connection. An orgasm with them felt like I was giving them a gift, a moment when it was as real as it could be between us.

  It was important to me that I gave them that, mainly because I knew what it was to be lonely. In fact, though I’d never admit it to anyone, in my secret heart of hearts the encounters I had with my clients satisfied me on some level too. I could share in that moment of closeness and connection, and even though we both knew it wasn’t real we had a facsimile of it at least.

  Despite that, the sex was never all that sexy—or at least not for me...not when it was work. I controlled the interactions and they were all focused on the client’s needs, so if I wanted to come I had to fantasise. My fantasies weren’t very pornographic, and most people would probably think them mundane; but my most private, most erotic one was to be touched slowly, with sensuality and care, by a beautiful man who loved me. Who thought I was precious and worth taking the time over, worth making sure my needs were met. Who looked at me as though I was the most gorgeous woman on earth and who didn’t just have sex with me or fuck me. He made love to me, in the most literal sense.

  I’d never told anyone about that fantasy. It was too personal and said too much about me. Because, really, what a sad individual I was that my most private sexual fantasy wasn’t whips or ball gags or blindfolds. It wasn’t exhibitionism or voyeurism. It was just to be touched by someone who cared.

  Yet I’d told Trajan. He’d been touching me carefully, gently, in the way I wanted, and he’d asked me what I liked, and...it had just...fallen out. And, as soon as I’d said it, I’d realised that, actually, my most private fantasy was happening right now, with him. Because of the way he touched me and the way he looked at me.

  As if I mattered to him. As if I was important.

  Me. Not Honey.

  It was the most erotic thing I’d ever experienced.

  I could feel his hand now spread out over my breast, his thumb teasing my nipple in a slow back-and-forth, and the electric pleasure of his touch was so acute I could hardly stand it.

  This was for me. He was for me. Finally, after so long giving everything to everyone else, I had something for myself.

  I couldn’t believe I’d wanted to walk out on this earlier, that I’d been so afraid of taking it. Perhaps this wouldn’t break me after all. Perhaps this would mean I could give people an even better experience now I knew what it was like myself.

  I pressed myself into his hand, wanting more of the flickering lightning that was striking all over my skin. Wanting more of his touch.

  He shifted his hold, lifting me to the light that was angled over the back of the couch, lowering his head, as if he wanted to get a really good look, that deep-blue gaze of his raking down my entire body—and not quickly, either. He stared hard, as if memorising each specific feature, examining it closely, like a miner sifting for gold going through a pan full of gravel, trying to find that one bright spark.

  No one else had ever looked at me that way before and it made my heart beat harder, my pulse go into overdrive.

  ‘You’re so lovely.’ His fingers stroked down my chest and over the silk of my dress. ‘You feel so soft.’ His g
aze moved down to the curve of my breast and he leaned down for a closer look. I could feel the warmth of his breath through the fabric and a gasp caught in my throat as the edge of his nail flicked over the tip of my nipple, another bright burst of sensation rocketing through me.

  ‘You like that, hmm? So sensitive.’ His thumb moved again in slow, tight circles around the tip of my breast, hardening it even further. And then he bent over me, and the gasp became a moan as I felt his tongue touch the fabric, hot and wet, dampening the silk and moulding it around my tight, aching nipple.

  I shuddered, arching up again. ‘Oh...yes... More...’

  But he ignored me, lifting his head and looking down at the damp spot on my dress where his mouth had been. The hard, masculine lines of his face had pulled taut with concentration, his eyes gone pure midnight. I felt suddenly surrounded by him, his powerful body rock-hard beneath mine, one arm cradling me, his other hand cupping my by now acutely sensitive breast. I loved it. Sometimes with a client who wanted to hold me I felt suffocated or impatient, but not with Trajan.

  With Trajan I wanted to lie there all day.

  ‘Pretty,’ he murmured, examining his handiwork. He made a soft humming sound and then bent again and this time the wet heat of his mouth covered my nipple entirely.

  I bit my lip as another electric jolt of pleasure hit, getting more intense as he began to suck. ‘Trajan...’ I lifted my hands instinctively, wanting to touch him, but I’d barely grazed his hair with my fingertips before he straightened up suddenly.

  His gaze caught mine, authoritative and intense. ‘No touching, sweetheart. This is about you, not me.’

  ‘I...know. But what if I want to touch you?’ I felt desperate. The hard expanse of his chest and the firm muscle of his shoulder beneath my head were warm, and I wanted to stroke him the way he was stroking me. Strip away the cotton of his T-shirt, see what his skin felt like under my hands. ‘This is supposed to be about me, right? So what if touching you is what I want?’

  ‘I’m assuming you know all about topping from the bottom?’ His deep voice was gravelly and stern, and yet there was a hint of amusement in his eyes.