Lies That Blind

by Diana Rose Wilson

  Standing, she prowled after him, glad her legs felt stronger, like the magnetic pull of him against her.

  Chapter 8

  First Supper

  He escorted her to her seat, drawing out the chair. She sank into the seat, feeling like she’d stepped back in time to older traditions and sophistication. Knowledge of these things tickled along the back of her tongue.

  He lit the tapered candles and only their light sparked between them. An old-world elegance lost to her before now. She looked down at the plate, the ring of indigo with the circle of mythical animals in gold, and felt a strange vertigo and déjà vu.

  This.

  How had she lived her whole life without this? Her hand holding the goblet trembled and she set it aside as warmth washed over her face, stinging her eyes.

  Christopher watched her down the length of table, head tipped slightly, flame gleaming in his green-gold eyes. He seemed to feel the bell-clear clarity of the silence too. The scent of the food, the taste of juice on her tongue.

  “Amy would have loved to see you here like this,” he said, voice gruff with emotion. Tears gleamed in his eyes. “Thank you, for opening up to me.”

  “But I haven’t—” she said, the emotions making a noose around her throat.

  “You have, Frankie,” he assured her. “Now eat, before it gets cold.”

  She lifted the heavy silver fork and knife, feeling the imprint of carvings under fingertips and against her palm. Lost in the splendor of it all, she cut into the delicate, dark meat under the velvety sauce.

  She hesitated, sensing him watching her. When she placed it to her lips, she expected it would taste wonderful.

  Not whisk her away.

  It took her to autumn and harvest. To wind blowing sharp and crisp in her face. She tasted chocolate under a musky wilderness. Like something primal and free; beautiful earth and blood and soul.

  Her heart squeezed tight in her ribs and her toes curled painfully. The roof of her mouth tingled all the way down to her sex. Even her teeth buzzed with a bell-rung vibration like the goblet rims kissing for their toast. The silver touching where it would press to her mouth.

  To his lips.

  The ringing filled her head, mingling with the taste of the food. It filled her mouth and rolled over her tongue. It melted away everything discordant and ugly inside her.

  It was perfect.

  The sensation of her former world stripped away, leaving her exposed. Ready to make something new. She wondered how much more she would discover and knew she wanted to know everything.

  More.

  More!

  “Frankie?” Christopher’s voice whispered with a dream-like quality. She feared the feeling would vanish if she opened her eyes. She would be left empty and yearning again.

  She held up her hand to still him. Just a moment longer.

  At last she blinked open her eyes, the fork held between her lips, fingers gripping the handle. The twin candle flames were too bright.

  “Come back to me.” He laughed, a grin dancing across his features as he watched her. “Is it okay?”

  She laughed aloud, putting up a hand to muffle the sound as the mirth burst from her. “What?” Squeezing her eyes closed, she struggled to focus. “Okay? No. It is so good.” The words came out part moan and part growl.

  “Oh, I like the sound of that,” he whispered, his husky tone making fire race to her cheeks.

  “You are a horrible person.” She laughed and fanned at her face.

  He crinkled his nose at her down from his end of the table and very politely cut his own bite of food and bared his teeth before taking a little nibble. Somehow, he made it an utterly sensual act.

  She suppressed the urge to sweep the food from the table and crawl down the length of it to get to him. Her mind played through a calculation of movements and time it would take.

  The sound bubbled up her throat again. She was the one who didn’t like physical touch. Right? It was wise to have the length of the table between them. She might do something in a moment of lust that would haunt her forever.

  Like last time.

  She took another bite, using the same slow care as he had, holding eye contact with him. Never in her life had she attempted to be coquettish. She didn’t know how to spark a fire in someone to match her own.

  Her cheeks burned as her careful lick of fork tines made the handsome man down the table shift in his chair. The sound rising from him was much hungrier than what she uttered at the taste of the food.

  “Now who’s being cruel?” he asked, his voice a low growl at her tease.

  In satisfaction, she watched him grip the edge the table and found herself lowering her eyes.

  “Don’t hide from me,” he whispered quietly, part command, part plea.

  The strength in his voice made her lift her eyes to him. “I’m not hiding,” she whispered. When she met his gaze this time, she felt shimmery threads of gold tug against her, echoing the tightening lower in her belly.

  His eyes slid half closed, his smile warm and inviting. “If you don’t eat, I will have to feed you.”

  “If you come over here, I will be too distracted,” she growled back and took another bite of his food. “I might shatter to pieces if you touched me.”

  “Mmm, no you wouldn’t. I will bind you together,” he promised but stayed on his end of the table.

  A world away.

  She yearned for him, gathering up the tethering golden strings inside her, drawing them in closer to her heart. He groaned very softly. “Frankie,” he warned, half laugh, half yearning, growling out the ‘R’ of her name.

  “Christopher.” She heard herself play his name over her tongue.

  The most erotic experience of her whole life.

  Dinner.

  Twenty-five years and not even a virgin and this was the most sensual thing she’d ever felt.

  She put down the fork and stood, pushing back her chair very slowly. Her feet whispered across the thick rug to him.

  His eyes danced and sparked in the light of the flame and he leaned back in his chair, watching her. Calling, silently, to her.

  Each step took her a breath closer. Her heart hammered wildly.

  Don’t second guess.

  Don’t be afraid.

  He lifted his hand and crooked a finger at her and bid her closer. Shadows deepened in his jungle-green eyes as he savored her every movement. His pulse raced in his throat.

  When she got close enough, he reached out and cupped her hips with both strong hands. He didn’t have to pull her, she melted forward, into the heat he radiated. Her dress drew up her long legs as she swung one of them over his knee and settled herself onto his thigh.

  The gasp of pleasure whispered against her shoulder, followed by a low growl of encouragement. “Delicate, sweet one,” he whispered when she uncertainly balled her fists into his shirt. His expression brimming with hunger. “Tell me what you want.”

  Her tongue wouldn’t work. Tell him? Heat blazed from cheeks to throat, over her chest and she could almost feel his eyes track the flush glowing off her candlelit skin. “I—don’t want you to push me away.”

  He flexed his thigh under her, raising it, and her up. His grip tightened against her hips, pulling her in closer. The movement was hard, his thumb pressing against her hip bone and his fingers slid around to her ass, tightening her until she squirmed in tight to his chest. “Never.”

  She shuddered at his teasing, grinding her hips forward. Squeezing her thighs around his, she whimpered behind her tight lips, lost in the sensation.

  He leaned in and kissed her shoulder, soft, teasing kisses over freckles and scars, lighting her on fire. “Let go,” he murmured into her skin. “You can’t break me.”

  “I might,” she whimpered.

  “No, sweet one. Never. Show me what you like.”

  “I don’t know—” She sucked in a breath when his lips brushed the side of her neck and kissed up her throat. “Yes,” she w
hispered and when he pressed his teeth to her collar bone and bit down, she cried out in pleasure, tightening her legs around him. “Oh. Yes.”

  He growled approval, particularly when she ripped at his shirt. A sound of desire, amusement and need warred for control. A pair of buttons tore free, skittering across the hardwood and he arched into the rough fingers. “Yes.” His voice warming her neck, moving nibbles to her other collar bone in reward. “More.”

  Instead, she drew back to admire what she’d reveled. His muscular chest pelted with dark hair training down from broad pectorals to tight abs and vanishing to the waist of his slacks. He grinned at her, equal parts nervous and excited.

  “You are like something wild,” she whispered, in awe as she uncertainly stroked a hand through that thatch of hair. He felt velvety and so hot against her palm and fingertips.

  “Oh, I am,” he teased, but he blushed, darkening in the golden light, his gaze growing more intense. “I have warned you.”

  She saw where she left a bruise on him, darker under the thick hair and easily seen. “Oh. Oh no!”

  “Do not apologize.” When he saw the mark, his hands squeezed against her ass. “I love it.” He pulled her in tighter to him, letting her fall into the warmth of his chest, pinning her hands between them. When her fingernails bit into his skin he moaned, nuzzling his cheek into her curls. “Harder,” he insisted.

  When she raked her hands down his chest, he shivered, bowing up with a choked moan. His hips rose too, rocking so she could feel the hardness of his cock in those soft, elegant slacks.

  She wanted him. Wanted his deep, resonant growls and the groans twisted up in pain and pleasure when she pressed her mouth to his neck and bit into his flesh. He tasted like the scent of him, wilderness and dewy cedars. His hands slid from her ass, pushing her dress up and continuing over the small of her back, along her spine and through her hair.

  “Frankie,” he whispered, all low growls and soft hisses as he pulled back her head at last, drawing her free of his neck so he could look at her face. “Beautiful. You must tell me if I push you too far.”

  “I’m not a virgin,” she blurted and blushed when he kissed her lower lip, sucking on it until she shuddered and pleasure pulsed through every muscle and cord on her body.

  “It is our first time.” He kissed the corner of mouth, avoiding her attempt at kissing him. “I want you to remember every heartbeat.”

  That made her writhe and emboldened her to slide hands into his curls and hold his head still.

  “Yes,” he growled into the kiss she claimed.

  He was not timid, or doubting, never hesitated when her mouth settled onto his. The kiss was hungry and consuming but even as he fed off the heat flooding from her, he fanned her hotter. Her tongue plunged between his lips, hungry for the taste of him mixed with that primal, heady chocolate, vibrating her need for him.

  He stood and lifted her. With a clatter of dishes, he shoved the food and drink aside a moment before her ass settled on the table top.

  This time she caught his lower lip and bit him and he squeezed her tight against him, his body fitting between her thighs. He groaned with pleasure, rocking toward her, grinding his cock along her inner thigh, soft cashmere whispering over her bare flesh.

  She broke the kiss when the pressure of his fingers holding her hips bruised her. She cried out for more.

  He growled, licking across her lower lip.

  Her single sexual experience had been swift and brutal. She braced, expecting to feel him tear open his slacks and thrust into her.

  Instead, he kissed the corners of her mouth, whispering her name with fractured words of praise as his grip eased.

  She focused on his face and realized she’d bitten him hard enough to make his lip bleed. He grinned fiercely at her, teeth bared. He slid his hand up her thigh, petting along her tight muscles from knee to the juncture of her sex, but didn’t touching her pussy. Instead, he teased the edges of her gauzy underwear with soft caresses. Then, he trailed his mouth along the path his fingers traveled. Light kisses, nibbles and, once, a bite that made her buck up off the table.

  Only when he’d teased both legs open to their limit did he finally brush his thumb along her aching pussy, through the layer of silk. “So wet. Gods, you smell like heaven on fire,” he whispered, stroking up toward her hidden clit and then back to the cleft of her ass, gentle and feathery, growing firmer and bolder until the fabric pressed into the valley of her swollen pussy lips.

  “Yes,” she sobbed aloud.

  When his touch drew away, he held her gaze while licking the slick heat from his fingertips. She thought she would unravel right there, watching him savor the taste of her. Hardly touching her except with his glorious eyes.

  “Please,” she begged. “Don’t stop.”

  Would he stop?

  Leave her dangling here so close and so far from her release. Fear roared up in her and she started to clamp her thighs closed but found his palms there, keeping her open.

  “I’m not stopping, Sunkist,” he said with silken warmth, eyes soft and adoring. “You are to be savored and tormented. Gods, you are radiant, Fire Goddess.” He grinned into her eyes. “Don’t hide from me.” He kissed her knee while he slid both hands along the inside of her thighs, fingernails scraping.

  She whimpered and squirmed as he showed the care and time he was willing to take with her. He hooked his fingers into her underwear and met her gaze as he pulled them down her long, muscular legs. His soft, crooning growl against her inner thigh made her hips rock up and toward him.

  “Oh. Oh, God. Christopher.” She let his name fall from her and he moaned. “I want it hard. Don’t be careful with me. Don’t… Oh, God. Oh, God!”

  “Oh, I will,” he promised, brushing his thumb along one swollen lip and then the other, petting and smearing her cream in long, steady sweeps before sliding his hand up between them, cupping her in his palm, pressing and rocking its heel into her.

  When he slid one thick finger into her, she shuddered, gripping on to his shoulder and the other wrapped around his forearm as she shuddered and shook with her orgasm.

  “Fuck,” he growled through his teeth, eyes lidding with an expression of pleasure and hunger as her muscles tightened and squeezed around him. The heat of her climax coated his fingers and hand, making a mess of the table under her.

  “Yes. Oh, yes. Oh fuck,” she sobbed.

  He didn’t stop moving his thick finger. He slid deeper and deeper and began to thrust into her harder as he wrapped his arm around her. His voice whispered into her ear. “I think you are a virgin. My virgin. You’re so fucking tight and perfect. Does this hurt?” he asked when her cries had grown louder and sharper.

  “No.” And yes. It was such blissful, sweet agony. And when he slid a second to join the first, she screamed out in pleasure, gripping him harder as she shuddered.

  He moaned into her neck as she came again. He nibbled and bit along the path to her ear, leaving a trail of burning stars in her skin to match the blazing pleasure gushing from her pussy. His fingers curled, finding a hidden place inside her, a place that flamed and consumed her, and for a moment, all she could do was hold on to him, afraid she was shattering.

  “I’ve got you. That’s it, beautiful. So fucking beautiful,” he whispered into her ear. “You’re so hot. So perfect. Do it again. Again!”

  He coaxed the next orgasm from her with deep, bruising thrusts of his wonderful fingers and this time when she came, screaming out his name, he shuddered. Stuffed almost painfully full, she soaked his wrist, the table and likely the whole front of him with the wild flood of pleasure he evoked.

  When she tipped up her face to his, his mouth brushed over hers, and she realized how hot she contrasted with him. He felt almost cool against her but when she started to pull away, he drew her in tighter with the hand not busy pleasuring her. His tongue teased along hers, luring her into him, sucking at her, nipping and biting and then luring her again.


  His thumb circled her clit, pinning the slick pearl roughly while his fingers moved into her. His mouth fed off the sounds of her pleasure and pain. The growl vibrating through him urged her on. And on.

  Again, she came, moaning into his mouth, filled with his tongue, the deepest parts of her sex deliciously bruised. His tongue darted between her lips in time with those fingers. Oh, those fingers.

  Finally, he relented and she realized she was crying only when his lips brushed over her cheeks and her eyelids. “Frankie! Frankie, did I hurt you?” he asked, pulling her off the table and into his arms. As he cradled her against him, the frantic thump of his heart pounded against her.

  “No.” She forced out the word around a delighted sob.

  “Do you want me to?” he whispered into her ear.

  She laughed, the joy bubbling up, unrestrained. “Yes.” She cupped his face and kissed him and then squeaked when he settled her back onto the table and crawled up onto it after her.

  He crushed her to the table with the weight of his larger body. His strength took her breath away. His bright eyes laughed down at her and he flashed those boyish dimples, black curls falling into his eyes. When she struggled up against him, his eyes half lidded. His expression showed first pleasure and then shock when she got her leg hooked with his and rolled him, slamming him back and pinning him.

  Dishes rattled, cups bounced and the candles nearly toppled over from the force. Somehow the table remained steady under their combined weight.

  He blinked and grunted when she knocked the air out of him. Licking at his lips, he gazed at her as though stunned. “Fuck, Welton,” he gasped.

  Grabbing two handfuls of her curls he pulled her to him. He bared his teeth, nuzzling his forehead against hers. “I am yours forever.” He kissed her so hard she felt the depth of his emotions on her mouth and tongue. He remained pinned under her, unresisting now that she’d wrestled him down.

  Grinning, she straddled his hips, wriggling to get free of his kiss and his hands in her hair. “Dress. Off,” she snarled and he sat up under her. He released her hair as he kissed her jaw, her ear, down her neck to the curve of her breasts as his long, deft fingers worked at the zipper at her back.