Coveted (Pandora's Playground #1)

by Alannah Lynne

  His nostrils flared and his chest rose and fell with sharp inhalations as he tried to saturate his lungs with her fresh summer-rain scent, like he could permanently embed her fragrance into his cells the way ink from a tattoo marked the skin.

  As she leaned over his legs to readjust a pillow she’d tucked under his knees, he caught a flash of white teeth sinking into her plump bottom lip. He wanted to brush his thumb across the thick flesh and demand she release it—if anyone was going to chew on her lip it was him—but then she shifted again and the gentle sway of her breasts captured his full attention. He opened his hands and flexed his fingers, trying to alleviate the burn in his palms, urging him to reach out and do a little massaging of his own.

  “Okay,” she said, finally satisfied the pillow was in the right spot. “Close your eyes”—she stepped around to the head of the table—“take a couple deep breaths, and just relax.”

  She was kidding, right? Relaxing while she stood this close, preparing to touch him, was an impossibility. Closing his eyes—he blew out a harsh breath—that presented a different kind of challenge.

  Picking up on his obvious hesitation, she said, “Let’s start another way.” He angled his head to see her better as she reached around behind her and retrieved a horseshoe-shaped device. After inserting it into a slot at the head of the table, she said, “Turn over and let’s start on your back.”

  “Over?” As in… on his stomach? Where he’d be totally blind to his surroundings and incapable of defending himself?

  If she noticed his escalating panic, she didn’t let on as she smiled and nodded. “Yeah, over. That’s the way I normally start anyway. Most of my clients find it easier to relax that way.”

  He clenched his eyes and gnashed his teeth as his breath came in short, harsh spurts. Most of her clients weren’t a crime lord’s kid who’d been trained to look over his shoulder as much as he looked ahead, to sit with his back to the wall with a watchful eye trained on the door, and to always have an escape route planned. Lying facedown on a table with his arms at his sides was like being pinned to a mat, leaving him vulnerable to a sure and sudden death with a well-placed blow to the back of the head or neck.

  He ran a hand over his face and tried to reason this out. He wasn’t connected to that life anymore. He hadn’t seen his adoptive parents since he left for college. Most importantly, this wasn’t a random massage therapist who could’ve been seduced or paid off to take him out. But logically knowing those things and getting his automatic responses to sit the fuck down and shut up were two different things entirely.

  He flicked his gaze to Muriel, who was studying him with a combination of concern and curiosity, which only added to his turmoil. Not only would she never hurt him, but in the event of an attack, she would do everything in her power to protect him. And thinking about her in that context, imagining her ever being in a position to come under attack because of him, caused a violent wave of anger and remorse to rise through his chest and constrict his throat.

  When he left home, he vowed to never touch the seedy underworld again. It was the main reason he’d chosen divorce rather than criminal law. He wanted nothing to do with that life.

  The Stewarts had shown him there were good, honest people in the world, and he’d made a conscious decision to model their behavior. He hadn’t always succeeded. His love for Muriel definitely topped his list of wrongs. But he’d done everything in his power to contain his feelings and do right by her and Ian.

  Yet here he was, pissing on Joanne and Liam’s example by crossing to the dark side and giving in to his greatest weakness by allowing himself the pleasure of Muriel’s touch. With a shaky nod, he swallowed his self-contempt and the panic closing in on him and turned over to his stomach.

  The second his forehead hit the cradle and his arms pressed against his sides, his heart took off at a galloping pace and a sheen of sweat coated his skin.

  You’re not that kid anymore… You don’t have to always watch your back… You’re a grown-ass man with no connections to that world… You’re safe with—

  He damned near jumped off the table when her fingers touched his shoulder, then swept down his back in a long, gentle stroke.

  “Just relax, okay?” Her voice was calm and soothing and tempted him like a siren’s song. “There’s no one here but you and me. The front door is locked so no one can get in. You’re perfectly safe.”

  Her soft assurances, addressing his deepest fears, made him wonder how much she knew about his childhood. Shame licked his face and neck as he considered someone as sweet and pure as Muriel being privy to the sordid details of his birth and upbringing.

  Of course, if she did have that information, she knew as well as him he had no business being a part of her life. Whatever she’d been thinking last night when she wrapped her arms around his neck and asked him to stay with her was nothing more than a lust-filled reaction to a highly charged situation. And that realization brought him tremendous relief as well as deep-seated sadness.

  As her hand brushed the outer edge of his shoulder, then continued down his bicep to his elbow and forearm, he forced his hand to relax so it wasn’t balled in a tight fist.

  “That’s it,” she crooned as she continued the caress to the end of his fingers. “You’re doing great. Let’s get you a little deeper. I want you to breathe with me… Deep breath in.” He drew in a deep breath, then followed her lead and slowly exhaled. “Good. Let’s do that again.”

  Focusing on the cadence of her breath allowed him to release his fears, and he found himself sinking deeper and deeper into the table.

  “You’re doing great.” Another long caress down the center of his spine. “Thank you for letting go and trusting me to take care of you.”

  At her words—so similar to the ones he’d used on Lili earlier in the evening—his brain ground to a screeching halt, then refired with the awareness he’d inadvertently found himself in the unenviable position of a scared sub. And Muriel had become a good, responsible Domme, working hard to soothe him.

  What the hell?

  As he struggled to find his way out of this bizarre twilight zone, a part of him recognized this as a rare opportunity to stand in a sub’s shoes. He’d always recognized the inner strength a sub possessed, but this was the first time he’d experienced what it took for them to put their trust, as well as their bodies, into his hands for safe keeping.

  Dominance and submission was all about the exchange of power, but…

  He snorted to himself. There wasn’t any power being exchanged here. He’d handed it all over to Muriel and was happy to let her keep it for a while. In this moment, there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do to please her, make her smile, and especially keep her hands on him.

  After several more strokes along his spine, in which she petted him like a loving owner praising a loyal pet, she moved back to the head of the table and wrapped her hand around the vulnerable spot at the base of his skull. His initial reaction was to tense and prepare to attack, but he forced himself to take another deep breath and put his trust—along with his safety and well-being—into her hands.

  As her fingers worked up and down his scalp, his skin tingled, a strange energy pulsed through his head, and a lump formed in his throat. He supposed, since his head was still attached, the nurses in the hospital where he’d been born, as well as the nannies his adoptive parents hired to care for him, must’ve cradled his head to keep it from snapping off his tiny body. But he obviously had no recollection of that, and at nearly thirty-five, he couldn’t remember anyone ever touching him with as much tender, loving care as Muriel showed now.

  Of course, subs touched him all the time, but that was different. They only touched when, where, and how he said, and those brief encounters had one sole purpose—an orgasm for one or both of them.

  This was completely different. Muriel wasn’t stroking his cock to please him so he would in turn get her off. She was massaging his scalp… and now his neck, because she wan
ted to do something nice. To ease his stress, she’d said.

  And that made this experience far more dangerous and unsettling than last night. No one else would ever touch him this way again—not physically or by eliciting the same soul-deep reaction that had him on the verge of tears. And now that he’d had his first taste of unconditional care and affection, he would spend the rest of his life wishing for another moment like this.

  He wanted to open his eyes, to search the floor for something that would ground him back to his previous reality. But she’d asked him to keep his eyes closed and relax, and dammit, he could at least give her that.

  Swallowing to make sure his mouth still worked, he asked, “Why are you doing this?” Damn, he sounded like his mouth was filled with gravel and his voice cracked like he’d swallowed a few with sharp, jagged edges.

  “I suspect this evening was as rough on you as Lili, so I wanted to take care of you for a while.”

  His heart stuttered and a knot filled his stomach. She knew him well enough to know how difficult tonight had been on him? But even if she had picked up on that last night… “That still doesn’t explain why.”

  She didn’t answer at first, just continued to massage the muscles in his neck and across the top of his shoulders. After a moment, she said, “You’ve sat in my lot twice a week, every week for nearly a year, watching over me to make sure I was safe. I know you had better things to do, especially on Saturday nights when you could’ve been at the club.”

  That wasn’t true. There wasn’t any place he would’ve rather been than making sure she was safe, but he didn’t bother to correct the assumption.

  “You also took care of me last night in a way no one else could.” The subtle shift of her arms indicated she’d shrugged her shoulders. “This is something I can do for you. Something you desperately needed judging by the state of these tight muscles.”

  His jaw clenched and he exhaled sharply at her ugly reminder of the way things ended last night. At least she’d been the one to bring it up, and he didn’t have to. “In case you didn’t notice, I split and left Lucas to take care of you.”

  Her hand movements faltered for a second, like he’d caught her off guard and she needed a moment to process his words. Then her hands got busy again, and he could’ve sworn he felt a whisper-soft touch on his shoulder, like she’d bent down to kiss him. “It was your eyes I stared into… your mouth and voice that gave me the order to come. Something I hadn’t done in a very long time. From my perspective, you were definitely the one taking care of me last night.”

  As the image of her with her head thrown back—desperately trying to keep her gaze locked on his while she thrashed with the force of her release—crashed through his mind, his muscles tightened and his dick snapped to attention. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead and upper lip, and his body ached like he had the flu. And then the steady pulsing in his dick turned into a painful throb as he was filled with an all-consuming need to take her, to finish what they’d started the night before.

  But then what? After the screaming was done, where would that leave them?

  He’d still be the son of an arms dealer, thanks to a black market deal by Mommy Dearest who got pregnant by fucking the wrong guy. As a teen, he’d made one bad choice after another. The only reason he was still alive was because the Stewarts stepped in and set him on the right path.

  He’d tried hard to follow their example, but despite his best efforts to be an honest, upstanding citizen, there was a reason he had a nasty reputation as a ruthless divorce attorney who chewed up his opponents and spit them out without remorse. And let’s not overlook the biggest white elephant in the room. He’d spent most of his adult life coveting his best friend’s wife. Yeah, he was a real winner.

  And to add to his already stellar resume, sure as shit, when he climbed off this table, he would make arrangements to come back again next Saturday, because he’d been right in his previous assessment. She was a drug, he was now addicted, and he’d do anything to experience the euphoria that came from having her hands on him again.

  As Mathew’s shoulders bunched into a tight knot and his hands clenched into balls, Muriel wished she could kick her own butt for bringing up the previous night. He’d done a remarkable job of letting go of his tension and allowing her to take care of him. But then she blew it by taking him back to last night.

  All she’d thought about was the intense heat radiating from his eyes as he held her and ordered her to focus on him. But she should’ve known he wouldn’t view the events from the same perspective.

  Men in general were probably more critical of themselves than women, but she had a feeling Mathew was especially hard on himself and saw only his shortcomings. Ian considered Mathew his closest friend and loved him like a brother. He wouldn’t have cared for him so deeply if Mathew hadn’t been a loyal friend and a good person. But given his upbringing and the lack of nurturing he received as a child, Mathew lacked the strong sense of self-worth someone from a stable home with unconditional love possessed.

  Would it ever be possible to shatter his false image and replace it with a mirror that allowed him to see what an amazing person he was?

  She didn’t know what she expected to happen between them—

  No, that wasn’t entirely true. While she didn’t know what to expect, what she wanted was for Mathew to open himself up again—like he had the night before—and to see if this crazy attraction might lead somewhere. But in order to do that, her gut told her she would need to rid him of his dark glasses and help him see himself in a better light.

  However, while that sounded good in theory, she wasn’t delusional enough to think it would be easy. But nothing worth fighting for was, and if the past year had taught her anything, she’d learned she was a fighter. So with a deep breath, she rolled up her proverbial sleeves and made the decision to get to work.

  He wasn’t as tense as he’d been moments before, so she gently rubbed her hand in a circle over the center of his back and quietly said, “Thank you for trusting me and allowing yourself to relax so well. I’ve done all I can on your back. Let’s roll you over and let me get your arms and head some more, okay?”

  She almost laughed at how quickly he planted his hands on the table and rolled onto his back. He blinked a few times, as if clearing sleep from his eyes, then gave her a smile that nearly melted her into a puddle. “You’re pretty damn talented with those hands.”

  Pride at his compliment filled her chest and had her smiling back while thinking, I’d love to show you more… Take off those pants. However, she kept that thought to herself and simply said, “Thank you.”

  Gathering more oil, she started at the rounded edge of his shoulder and pulled a downward stroke over his thick bicep. She worked on muscular men all the time, and while she always appreciated the beauty of a good physique, she never thought of her clients in the context of men.

  Do you know if he wears boxers or briefs?

  As Lucas’s question rang through her mind, her gaze involuntarily wandered across Mathew’s chest, over his abs, then down his trousers to—oh, holy hell—the thick erection filling out the fabric. She still didn’t know which he wore, but God, did she ever want to find out.

  Afraid Mathew would pick up on the pulsating need emanating from her, she closed her eyes, drew in a couple deep breaths, and forced herself to calm. Thoughts like that were what set her back a moment ago, and she didn’t want to make the same mistake again.

  In slow, measured strokes, albeit with a more intimate touch than she used on her clients, she worked her way down his arm until she reached his hand. She hesitated before linking their fingers for fear of once again reminding him of the previous night. But in order to get the tiny muscles and tendons the way she wanted, it was necessary to hold his hand.

  Rather than moving slowly as she had been, she changed the amount of pressure and worked on him like she would one of her male athletes—brief, quick pulses filled with forceful pressure.
As she finished his hand, his breathing grew deeper and steadier, and while she doubted he’d fallen asleep, he was more relaxed than he’d been the entire evening.

  Finished with the left side, she moved around to his right. She noticed the harsh crease that normally furrowed his brow was gone and the tense set of his mouth had also relaxed. In this restful state, she realized how full his lips really were—which made them more tempting than the night before—and a simmering fire reignited in her belly as she imagined leaning over and stealing a kiss.

  While soft and supple in appearance, she bet they could also be hard and demanding. A tremor slipped into her fingers as she envisioned his hand wrapped around her hair, holding her tight while he took possession of her mouth in a desperate kiss. Mathew seemed more indulgent than Ian, but she didn’t doubt for a second he could be a hard ass if necessary, like tonight with Lili.

  She squeezed her thighs together as she linked her fingers with his and thought about this same hand holding a paddle or cane or whatever implement Lili had brought from home for him to use. Muriel didn’t like pain, but she would love the feel of his large hand landing a few well-placed swats on her ass.

  She gulped as heat circled her neck and swept down her chest. Her breathing grew labored and she lost the struggle to keep her eyes on his face as they slowly meandered across his broad chest and firm pecs again. Water pooled in her mouth as she considered sucking one of his pebbled nipples into her mouth or licking a trail down the hard ridges of his abs to his thick cock.

  She drew in a shuddering breath, then returned her gaze to his face, only to have the air snatched from her lungs on a silent gasp. Heavy lids draped his nearly black eyes, and the smoldering heat pouring from him revealed he knew exactly where her thoughts had been.

  “Something on your mind, angel?”

  Her head twitched as she fought the inclination to shake it and deny she’d been thinking about anything other than the weather. But she couldn’t lie to him. She didn’t want to lie to him. So she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then couched her reply in hopes of not scaring him off again. “You’re a beautiful man. I was admiring your body.”