Of course I did. That was what I did with my clients, subtly directing things while making it seem as if it was all their idea.
I pulled a face. ‘I’m not...’
‘You are.’ He gave me a speculative look. ‘How do you feel about restraints?’
‘I mean, I—’
‘Because, if you feel that would help you guard against temptation, I’m happy to oblige.’
I wasn’t sure it was possible to blush even more, but I did anyway, my cheeks burning. ‘You say that like I haven’t been tied up before,’ I said tartly. ‘Which, FYI, I have. Many times.’
‘Not by me you haven’t.’
The arrogance in his voice was, for some reason, incredibly endearing. ‘Trajan...’ I began.
‘This is a pretty dress.’ One hand slipped beneath my back, finding the zipper and drawing it down. At the same time, the fingers of his free hand curled into the front of my bodice. ‘But right now, it’s in my way.’ Then, with one smooth movement, he jerked the bodice down to my waist.
I gave a soft gasp as he bared me, the cool air of the apartment raising goose bumps all over my skin, moving over my sensitive nipples.
I’d been naked in front of a lot of men, so it had long since ceased to be an issue. But now, as Trajan’s dark gaze moved over me, examining me in the same close way as he had a minute ago, I felt an inexplicable shyness creeping over me.
Shifting in his lap, I made a half-hearted attempt to cover myself, only to have him catch my hands in his. Then he circled my wrists, gripping them in one hand and drawing my arms slowly over my head and back slightly, holding me fast. My spine arched with the movement, my breasts lifting.
‘No,’ he murmured. ‘I don’t want you hiding. I want to see you.’
I shivered, the restraint of his hands both maddening and arousing at the same time. ‘I don’t know why you would,’ I said thickly.
‘Because you’re beautiful. And because I’ve been fantasising about you for weeks now.’
Holding tightly to my wrists, he let his other hand drift down my body, the backs of his fingers grazing my skin, the touch so light and maddening that I shivered yet again.
Every part of me seemed to be alive and aware, acutely conscious of all the places he was touching and all the places he wasn’t. His hard thighs against my butt, his chest against my back, his hands around my wrists holding on tight. And the agonising drift of his fingers over my skin.
‘Close your eyes, sweetheart,’ he murmured, and so I did.
And when I did I relaxed, the darkness allowing me to concentrate only on the feel of him tracing me, every line and curve. My shoulders and throat and chest. My breasts...his fingertips brushing over each nipple in a light touch before moving on, down over my stomach, that wasn’t as flat as I would have liked it to be, to circle around my belly button.
‘You like this?’ His voice had become soft as velvet and yet rough. ‘You like me touching you?’
‘Yes.’ My own voice sounded cracked.
‘Not so shy any more?’
‘No.’ I swallowed. ‘Not that I was shy before, but you know...’
‘Of course.’ Again, a warm thread of amusement ran through the words. ‘Not that you being shy is a problem. Or you not being shy. You can be any way you want, as long as it’s good for you.’
I kept my eyes closed, the breath hissing in my throat as I felt his fingers and warm palm spread out and cup one breast. They were slightly rough and the rasp of them on my bare skin sent the most delicious shivers through me.
‘And is it good for you?’ He sounded so calm, and somehow that made it hotter.
‘Yes,’ I gasped hoarsely as I felt the pad of his thumb rub over one nipple. ‘It’s good for me.’
He didn’t reply to that, but his hand disappeared. For a second all I could feel was cool air before wet heat closed around the throbbing tip of my breast once again, searing me.
‘Oh, my God,’ I groaned. ‘Oh... Trajan...’
His mouth was so hot it burned, and then came a slight pressure as he began to suck, and I was arching helplessly into him, pulling against his grip on me, wanting more, my thighs pressing together to control the deepening ache in my sex.
I’d never thought my breasts were particularly sensitive, but the way he touched them and touched me, lightly and sensually, layering sensation on sensation, building up each caress until it culminated into this one, intense moment...
God. I might even come from his mouth on my breasts alone.
He didn’t rush. He took his time. Mapping the curves of me with his mouth. Light kisses and little licks that turned into harder, deeper kisses and nips, the edge of his teeth against my tender flesh. And then his mouth closed around the sensitive tips of my breasts once again, sucking lightly at first, and then harder.
I was shaking, lights exploding and reforming behind my closed lids.
Then I felt a warm pressure between my thighs; his hand rested there lightly, the heel of his palm pressing on my clit. Then he exerted some pressure at the same time as he bit my nipple. ‘Scream for me, Maggie,’ he whispered against my damp skin as the pleasure detonated like a bomb inside me. ‘Scream for me now.’
And I did. I screamed his name as the climax hit me, broke me, shattered me into a thousand white-hot pieces and left me drifting in the air.
CHAPTER TEN
Trajan
SHE WAS TREMBLING against me, giving little breathy pants as I nuzzled against one bare breast, the delicious creaminess of her skin lying heavy in my mouth. The echo of her scream was still resounding in the air and I realised I hadn’t known what satisfaction was until this moment. Until I made her scream my name.
My cock ached. And holding her soft weight in my arms tested the control I had on myself. But I wasn’t going to break—not when I’d barely even started.
Fuck, she was responsive. I could have made her come without even touching her clit; I was sure of it. Maybe I’d even try that later. Right now, though, I still hadn’t seen all of her and I wanted to.
I glanced down at her stretched out in my lap, her head resting against my shoulder. All I could see was a mass of golden curls shielding her face, the rest of her nothing but a blur. But that was okay, especially as an image of the rest of her had been burned into my brain. Hard, red nipples. The flush of colour that ebbed and flowed beneath her soft, pale skin. The tantalising contrast between that skin and the red fabric of her dress bunched at her waist. The glisten of moisture left from my mouth on the tips of her breasts. The curve of them. The way they looked as I held them in my hands...
Beautiful. The memory was going to remain in my head for years to come. Now, I was desperate to see the rest.
I checked the angle of the light on the table next to the couch, then I shifted her in my arms, easing myself out from underneath her.
She made a soft murmur of protest, but I ignored her, arranging her so she was sitting upright on the couch and leaning against the back of it while I knelt on the floor in front of her.
Taking hold of her dress, I pulled it down over her hips and thighs, easing it off. Then I gripped the waistband of her panties and did the same, pulling the material down and off, leaving her naked.
She shifted on the couch as I discarded her panties then put my hands on her knees and pressed them apart. A soft hiss of breath came from her, but she didn’t resist. I glanced up, narrowing my gaze on her face, the glorious pale expanse of her body now a blur.
Her cheeks were deeply flushed, her eyes very dark. Her mouth was full and red and I wanted to feast on it for days. She looked dazed, which made the satisfaction inside me deepen. Apparently even she hadn’t known how responsive she was.
‘You okay?’ I asked, stroking the satiny skin of her thighs. The scent of her body, warm and sweetly musky, was intoxicating. I couldn’t wa
it to see her perfect little pussy, but I wanted to make sure she was with me.
‘Yes.’ The rough huskiness of her voice damn well thrilled me. ‘I mean, I think you just blew my mind. But apart from that, yes.’
I smiled, unable to help myself. Jesus; I thought I was above taking an adolescent pride in making a woman come, but apparently not. ‘Well, that was the general idea.’ I eased her thighs wider, letting my gaze drop down the beautiful body in front of me. Those pretty breasts, full and round and topped with button-hard red nipples. The graceful indent of her waist and soft roundness of her stomach. Down further, to more pale skin. It didn’t surprise me that her pussy was shaved, but the fleeting regret that I wouldn’t see soft, golden curls did. Not that it mattered. She was so pretty, her sensitive flesh glistening with wetness and all flushed pink.
Because of me.
An unexpected surge of possessiveness gripped me, a growl collecting in my throat. She was wet and flushed and panting because of me. Because I’d made her come with only the attention I’d paid to her breasts and the lightest touch of my hand on her clit. She hadn’t had to fantasise about something else to get off—no, that had been all me.
I was her fantasy and so this was mine.
She was mine.
Not that you deserve any of that.
But I forced the thought from my head. I might not deserve it, but I was going to take it nonetheless.
I leaned forward, kneeling between her spread thighs, sliding my hands up all that silky, warm skin to the crease where hip and thigh met, and then inward. Her body stiffened and she gasped as I let my fingers drift lightly over the slick folds of her pussy. The shadows were wrong, though, and I couldn’t see as well as I would have liked, so I slid one hand beneath her ass, lifting her into the light.
Pink skin. Glistening moisture. A musky, sweet-salty scent. My mouth watered. My cock was so hard it was difficult to think. It was so fucking pretty and I was desperate for a taste. But I wasn’t going to rush this. I wanted to see every part of her, commit her to memory, so, keeping one hand on her ass to keep her raised, I used my free hand to part the delicate folds of her pussy, exploring her gently.
‘Oh, my God...’ she whispered, sounding almost shocked, her body quivering, her hips jerking as my fingers eased her open. ‘What are you doing?’
‘I told you I wanted to see you.’ Gently, I uncovered her clit, swollen and hard and rising proud to my fingertip. ‘All of you.’ I touched her, the lightest of brushes, and she jerked again in my grip.
‘T-Trajan...’
I tightened my hold on her, exploring her, spreading her wider so I could see. Her pink flesh filled my narrowing vision, unbelievably erotic, the shivering of her body as I mapped the soft dips and valleys letting me know how much my touch was affecting her.
She shifted restlessly, her hips bucking as I stroked and teased her. The soft, gasping whispers gradually became more and more inarticulate, her muscles tightening and going stiff as I played with her.
It was mesmerising. I was drunk on the feel of her slickness under my fingertips and the scent of aroused woman filled my senses, clouding my brain. Nothing could have dragged me away from her in that moment. Nothing. I nuzzled against the soft skin of her inner thigh, focusing as I eased a finger inside her. The sight of her sensitive flesh closing around me and the feel of her muscles clamping tight was the most intensely erotic thing I’d ever experienced.
She groaned, her hips shaking, and I could sense that she was desperate to move, to ride my hand. But I held her tight. I was in control of this and I wanted her to come and come hard. And it wasn’t going to be fast. I would draw this out as long as I could to give her the most pleasure.
I used my fingers to push her higher, easing another into the tight, wet heat of her pussy as I pressed kisses along her inner thigh, making her gasp and cry out. I took her almost to the brink, her body trembling, before easing off, making her groan in protest. I toyed with her some more and played with her slowly and carefully until she was writhing in my grip.
And I could feel my own control begin to slip, my hunger for her almost suffocating in its intensity. My cock pressed painfully against the fly of my jeans. Jesus, if I held off any longer, I was going to embarrass myself.
I slid my fingers out of her, licking the honeyed sweetness from my skin. Then I slid my hands beneath her thighs, lifting first one and then the other over my shoulder, before gripping tightly to her ass as I buried my face in her pussy.
She cried out, her hips jack-knifing under me, her whole body stiffening, and I felt my control snap. I’d wanted to take this slowly, to explore her delicately with my tongue, to rain kisses down on her, lick her and nip her, pay attention to her. But I’d pushed myself too far and I was too fucking hungry.
I pushed my tongue deep inside her, ripping another scream from her throat. I tasted her climax, drinking it down, and I didn’t stop. I feasted on her, gorged on her, filled my mouth with the taste of her.
She bucked against me, her whole body writhing as I ate her out, and she sobbed as I made her come again. I couldn’t get enough of her, and I probably wouldn’t have stopped if I hadn’t felt her fingers in my hair, pulling hard.
‘Stop,’ she gasped hoarsely. ‘Trajan, stop. I can’t... I can’t...’
What the fuck are you doing? You’re going to lose it if you’re not careful.
My pulse was loud in my head, the most intense lust pumping hard in my veins. I’d never been so hungry and, maybe if it had been at any other time, I would have stopped this in its tracks.
But it was just one night and I’d promised her real. So real I’d give her. I let her pull my head up as I eased my grip, stroking her thighs to soothe her. My vision was blurry and I realised I’d closed my eyes as I’d feasted on her, which hadn’t been my intention at all.
Gritting my teeth, I tried to focus, and her face slowly became more distinct. I couldn’t see the rest of her now, but I could smell her arousal which hung heavy in the air—musk mixed with coconut and vanilla and orchids. A complicated scent for a complicated woman.
Perspiration gleamed on her forehead, golden curls stuck to her skin. Her mouth was red and bitten-looking, and her eyes were as black as space. She looked wrecked, ruined. She looked fucked, and fucked hard, and I was the cause. This beautiful woman had been destroyed by me and I wanted to do it again. And again. I wanted to do this all night until I’d been burned into her brain the way she’d burned herself into mine.
Until she couldn’t look at another man without seeing me. Until the fantasies she got herself off to when someone else touched her were about me. My hands. My mouth. And my fucking cock.
I let her go and slowly rose to my feet, holding her black, shocked gaze with mine. Then I reached for the hem of my T-shirt and pulled it off and over my head, dropping it on the floor.
I reached for the fly of my jeans and flicked open the first button. ‘My turn,’ I growled.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Magdalen
I SAGGED AGAINST the back of the couch, half-stunned and barely with it. My whole body was suffused with heat and I felt boneless and sated and heavy. The remains of the orgasms Trajan had given me pulsed in the background, small electric shocks sparking along all my nerve-endings.
I’d never felt so good in my entire life.
I didn’t think I could move—perhaps I’d never move again, as Trajan seemed to have stolen not only my ability to think coherently and breathe normally, but also the strength in my arms and legs.
My God, that man had wrecked me. He needed to come with a public health warning.
The long fingers that had played with me so delicately and carefully, that had stroked me and teased me into incoherence, now flicked open the button on his jeans.
I couldn’t drag my gaze away from him.
I thought my libido woul
d definitely need a break after what he’d done to me with his mouth and tongue, but apparently all he needed to do was take off his shirt and I was desperate once again.
He was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. The light outlined every definition of every muscle, the broad expanse of his pecs and the hard corrugation of his abs, each one chiselled and sharp. He looked as though he’d been carved by some masterful Renaissance sculptor who’d been obsessed with him, every line lovingly shaped with great skill.
His skin was smooth and velvety and tanned, and there was a scattering of crisp black hair on his chest. I’d never wanted to touch a man more. In fact, the level of want inside me was disturbing. I’d seen men built like he was, cut like he was, but I’d never felt the need for them that I felt for him.
My fingers itched, wanting to touch him.
He said nothing as he looked down at me, a ferocious hunger burning in his blue eyes that thrilled me down to the bone. He’d been very careful with me before, going slowly and insistently, examining me intently. The sight of him bent over my sex, his fingers exploring me, watching what he was doing so fixedly it was clear wild horses weren’t going to pull him away, was incredibly erotic.
And then he glanced up at my face and his eyes narrowed. I had the strangest sense that he was squinting at me because he couldn’t see me. It reminded me a little of my grandmother peering intently at things because of her cataracts. But then I forgot all about my grandmother as he rose to his feet and took his shirt off.
My turn, he said, and I was more than happy with that. I was desperate to taste him, desperate to touch him.
I leaned forward on the couch, reaching for him, but he gave a sharp shake of his head. ‘Not yet.’ His voice was pure gravel, sending a thread of excitement through me.
I took pride in getting my clients off, and I was good at it, though the sex was only a part of the service I provided. Yet I’d never felt the same thrill at getting them worked up as I felt with Trajan.
With the Lights On Page 7
