Under His Touch

by Jeffe Kennedy

  She moaned a little and wiggled her bum, encouraging him and nudging her thighs apart when he dipped his fingers into her, dropping her forehead to the sheets. “Call me selfish, but I hope you never do. Oh God—just like that.”

  He had a thumb inside her tight channel, pressing barely enough to arouse gently, stroking the outside of her clit with bracketed fingers. Less intense this way, a lovely rise and gentle fall to help her settle out the last of the high-voltage arousal. She came with a long, grateful moan, rocking her hips and humming deep in her throat.

  “Magic hands,” she murmured.

  “Fancy a hot bath?”

  She rolled onto her side and eyed his partial erection, wrapping her slender fingers around it. “What about this?”

  “This,” he said, firmly taking her hand away, “should be let alone for a bit. Thrice in a few hours is plenty.” Realizing his error, he scrambled for a way out of it, but she was far too perceptive, crawling up to straddle him and push him onto his back.

  “Thrice?” she echoed him, with uncanny mimicry. “I only counted twice for you. You jerked off in private. When?”

  She narrowed her eyes and set her nails threateningly into his chest. She looked glorious, bare breasts swaying, all that honey hair tumbling around her and her lambent blue eyes full of mock anger. “After we got here, I’m betting. When you nearly lost it in the hallway.”

  “I did not ‘nearly lose it.’”

  “You get more pompous and British when you’re uncomfortable, did you know that? Tell me when you did it.”

  “I do not and I shall do no such thing.” He grabbed her wrists when she sank in her nails. “Ow.”

  “Don’t be a baby. You tortured me far more.”

  “Yes, but I don’t enjoy it as you do.”

  “Then I shall have to punish you another way,” she said, sliding down his body with a maliciously seductive smile, dragging her nails and nipping him along the way.

  He put his hands in her hair, keeping her from reaching her obvious goal. “Don’t do it,” he warned.

  “Hush, or I’ll tie you up. Be a good boy and take your punishment. You stole an orgasm from me and I want it back.”

  He groaned when she took him in her mouth and cupped his balls, chagrined to find himself hardening and rising eagerly—if somewhat painfully—to her ministrations. “I shan’t be able to come again. Not this soon.”

  She lifted her head and tucked her hair behind her ears, lips shining wet. “Whatever. I’ll just play with you awhile then. My reward for good behavior.”

  If he’d harbored any continued illusions of her as an innocent young thing, she shattered them with her exquisite technique. With the leisure to apply herself properly this time, she worked him with tongue, mouth and hands, driving him up and backing off again. Taking him to the brink of the climax he hadn’t believed possible, sucking hard and fast on the sensitive head of his cock, then pretending to lose interest and be fascinated with licking the underside of his shaft.

  When she swirled her tongue around the tip as if eating an ice cream cone, watching him through her lashes, the telltale clench of momentum warned him. He wrapped his hands in her hair. “Amber, I’m begging you.”

  “For what?” She gave him that angelic smile and delicately licked the tip, ignoring his attempts to drag her head down.

  “Bloody hell, finish me, you brat.”

  Holding his cock by the root, she held a finger a breath away from the weeping head of his cock. “Is that any way to talk to the girl holding your life in her hands? Tell me I’m pretty.”

  Unable to watch a moment longer, he dropped his head back. “You are gorgeous. The most beautiful woman I’ve been privileged to lay hands on.”

  “And pretty,” she insisted.

  “And pretty,” he agreed. “Please, darling.”

  “You’re sorry you jerked off—especially after forbidding me to do the same.”

  “I am now.”

  She laughed. “At least you’re honest. All right then, Mr. Knight. Relax and let me take care of this little problem for you.”

  Her mouth swallowed him, taking his cock all the way down her throat, hot, wet, impossibly tight. With a hoarse shout, he released. She still held him by the root, controlling him so he couldn’t pump into her, making the climax that much more intense. Again she swallowed his seed, throat working him, milking the orgasm that was both ecstasy and agony.

  * * *

  He collapsed under her hands, going limp in every way. Such a gorgeous man. She’d thought it was the suits, but seeing Alec naked was even better. He had that lean, longly muscled build she loved. Pale skin contrasted with a smattering of sable-colored hair, though it shaded even darker at his groin, neatly trimmed to frame his truly beautiful cock.

  Normally she didn’t think about men’s cocks as aesthetic or not, but his was amazing. Long as the rest of him, thick, smooth and perfectly shaped. She played with it while he recovered, licking the velvety texture and admiring its clean lines, even in repose.

  His hands tightened in her hair. “No more. I mean it.”

  “The creature lives.”

  Transferring his grip to her arms, he pulled her up and rolled, trapping her under him, holding her wrists beside her head. “Yes. And if you persist I shall paddle you until you can’t sit.”

  “Promises, promises,” she taunted, making him smile.

  Lowering his head, he kissed her—something else he’d turned out to be very good at—smoky, dreamy and full of sated sexuality. She sighed in the sheer shimmering delight of it all.

  “You’re tremendously talented at giving head,” he said, nuzzling her cheek.

  “Skilled, thank you. One thing the guys I went to bed with would let me do. I got lots of practice. I can even deep throat.”

  “Believe me,” he said, sounding amused, “I noticed.”

  “I couldn’t the first time with you, because I have to be able to control the movement, to relax the gag reflex.”

  “Perfectly understandable.”

  “Are you laughing at me?”

  He lifted his head, gazing at her with those brown eyes that looked nearly black when he was near—or over—the edge. “Not even remotely, darling. I find you delightful in every way. You’ve entirely shattered me.”

  “If there’s a next time...” she tried, mouth going dry at the possibility that this might be all he’d agree to. She’d used his lust for her rather ruthlessly to corner him into this much. At some point, with the edge of his desire blunted, his better judgment might kick in again. “Next time, we could try it with me kneeling, now that I know your shape better.”

  He let go of her wrist and stroked her cheek. “Would you want there to be a next time?”

  “Very much so,” she breathed, deeply moved by the look on his face, the tenderness of the gesture. By the hope that maybe his interest would outlast more than an encounter or two.

  “Who am I to deny you?”

  She found herself smiling. No, grinning like an idiot. “Now I fancy a bath.”

  “I shall inform the staff.”

  “You have staff? Where?” Hopefully not anywhere close enough to witness. The condo was huge by city standards and she certainly hadn’t seen all of it, but...realizing, she smacked his arm and his straight face dissolved into a teasing smile.

  “Of course I don’t have staff.”

  “You have a driver,” she pointed out.

  “That’s only practical.” He levered himself up and began unbuckling the cuffs she’d forgotten she wore.

  She watched the process with fascination, remembering how it had blown her mind when he put them on. The fastening was complex enough that she would have a hell of a time taking them off her wrists with one hand. The ankles she could a
t least get to, but they’d take a while. Engineered to be applied and removed by someone else—a deliciously simple method for taking away control. Because thinking about it made her go wet again and she didn’t want him to think she was some kind of nympho, she went for lighthearted.

  “Uh-huh. It’s a wonder we have public transpo. Everyone should have a driver instead. Fifty bucks says you have a housekeeper, too.”

  He inclined his head at her score and turned her wrists over, probably checking for any remaining marks from the tie.

  “Alec.” She sorted through what she wanted to say, feeling full of some precious emotion that pushed to be expressed but might be bruised if she tried to fit it to the wrong words. He met her gaze seriously, searching her face with concern. Not what she had meant to do. She laid her hand on his cheek and leaned in to kiss him, showing him how she felt, what she couldn’t—or shouldn’t—articulate. “I really liked tonight. Everything. It was...more than I imagined.”

  “Good,” he answered softly.

  “And I imagined a hell of a lot,” she added and he laughed, as she’d hoped.

  “You’ll have to tell me some of them.”

  Abruptly, she felt shy about that. Some of her fantasies went pretty dark. It was one thing to have him come up with the ideas. Quite another to describe hers and introduce the possibility—no, the probability—that he’d take her seriously and act on them. Or, worse, think less of her. She stretched. “Wow. I’m sore in places I didn’t know I had.”

  “Then let’s get you in the tub and let you soak.”

  “Will you join me?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  She used the facilities, surveying her pink bottom with satisfaction. She suspected he’d gone quite easy on her, as these things went, and still it had hurt insanely. The pain had affected her in this crazy-making way that sent her right over the edge into a kind of shadow world where she deserved to have this powerful man punishing her. Where she lived forever chained to his bed, the sight of her naked body stark in the mirrors, her own struggles as arousing as the sensation of leather on her flesh.

  They weren’t thoughts that bore close examination. Certainly not now, with her body sore from his ravages in the most transporting way. Enough time to ponder later. And to decide which of her darker desires she could confess to him. Difficult to decide how to balance it all—to take most advantage of however long she held his interest, to fully exploit that he enjoyed the same things she did. That he not only didn’t judge her, but wanted that from her. She also didn’t want to rush things, to go into the deep end faster than she was ready. And, who was she kidding? They’d gone deep and fast already.

  Finally—who knew what the boundary of judgment might be? He liked that she was new to this, fresh, innocent. That much was obvious. A virgin, he’d called her. If she ruined that image of herself, would he lose interest faster?

  Too much to consider. Live in the moment, chickie, Kiki would advise. Because it was smart advice. Taking it to heart, she went to find Alec.

  And savor what he offered.

  Chapter Seventeen

  She found him in a rather spectacularly large bathroom off the hall, separate from the master bath, that mainly held an enormous free-standing tub shaped like half an egg, which she’d seen in design magazines. The tiled floor alternated black and white squares in a chessboard, and mirrors in gothically scrolled frames studded the walls. Bloodred towels gave splashes of color to the otherwise monochromatic scheme.

  Already in the tub, Alec watched her walk naked across the room with the lazy attention a sated lion might give a deer. He looked at her in a different way than the younger guys had, with full attention and almost as if he appreciated her form in an artistic way. Not that he hadn’t demonstrated his carnal interest as well. And not that it didn’t turn her on profoundly.

  She stopped and twisted her hair into a rope and tied it into a topknot so it wouldn’t get wet—and to let him look his fill. It wouldn’t hold forever and, in fact, immediately sagged under its own weight, but it was the best she could do.

  He held a hand up and she took it, stepping gingerly into the hot water. Very hot water. She hissed breath through her teeth and nearly stood again when her bottom stung as if she had sunburn, but he snagged her against his side and kept her there with an arm around her shoulders. “It’s good for you.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Consider it part of the program.”

  “Easy for you to say—your part of the ‘program’ doesn’t involve doing everything the other person says,” she grumbled.

  He brushed a lock of hair off her already steaming forehead, taking her seriously. As he always did. Something to remember. She wasn’t in the habit of being taken at her word. Certainly not by guys. But Alec wasn’t a guy, was he? He was more a man. All along he’d treated her like a woman, even called her that when she mentally thought of herself as a girl still.

  “Not true at all,” he said. For a moment she thought he’d responded to what she’d been thinking, then had to backtrack. “Never think you have to do everything I say,” he clarified. “In sex, yes. But only if we’re playing that way. You should always feel free to disagree—or alter terms. In fact, I insist on it.”

  She smiled at that and he realized what he’d said. “Did you just order me to not always follow your orders?”

  He shook his head and wiped a wet hand over his face. “I’m hopeless. But I do mean it.”

  “I know you do.” Her body relaxing in the heat, she agreed it felt good. “There’s a line from a song that goes something like ‘if you told me to jump off a cliff I totally would because it would be a good idea.’ Do you have that in Britain? The thing where mothers say that you’d jump off a cliff if all your friends did?”

  His fingers idly stroked her shoulder and he had his head tipped back, eyes closed. “I believe they usually say jump in the river as that song—by an Irishwoman, as I recall—actually says.”

  “Whatever.” She couldn’t help teasing him. “It’s an old song. I don’t know it that well.”

  He sighed. “It’s from the mid-eighties.”

  “Before I was born,” she pointed out in a breezy tone.

  “Good God. Don’t say things like that.” He paused and she waited, knowing he wouldn’t be able to stop there. “When were you born, anyway?”

  “July 29.”

  “The year, darling.” He flexed his fingers into her skin in warning, giving her a shiver.

  “Ninety-two. A very good year, I’m told. I’ll be twenty-three in a few months.”

  “Somehow that doesn’t help.”

  “Where were you when I was born?”

  “London. My first job after graduating from university. Much as you are.”

  “Did you get to fuck your boss, too?” She squealed when he squeezed her breast under the water, pinching her nipple.

  “I might be past fucking you at the moment, but I’m plenty capable of doling out more punishment. Or using something else on you.”

  “Such as?”

  “Are you daring me?” He still had his eyes closed, but that seemingly languid tone promised a great deal if she kept pushing him. Tempting, but she was pretty sore...

  “No, Sir.” She tried to make it sound meek.

  He cracked a golden-brown eye open. “You are far too cheeky. Clearly I didn’t strap you nearly enough. Please note I can do a great deal more in this room than simply bathe.”

  Curious, she sat up and surveyed the room again. She’d been all eyes for him when she walked in because, now that she looked, it became clear that the walls had all sorts of rings embedded. Chrome structures she’d taken for extra towel racks—and who had extra towel racks?—upon review seemed suspiciously intended for other purposes. Both arousing and daunting.

 
; Alec watched her keenly, eyes on her face as she took it in. She sank back. “Duly noted.”

  He chuckled, caressing her shoulder. “Only ever what you want, darling. I didn’t intend to alarm you.”

  She wondered if he had any clue that, rather than being alarmed, her brain had filled with pretty good ideas of how all those might be used. Also, though it made her uncomfortable, she forced herself to face that a man with this kind of equipment—and experience and obvious sexual bent—did not spend his weekends alone. She might be the sweetmeat du jour, but this was hardly the spectacular adventure for him that it was for her.

  Which she’d known walking into this, and that was okay. He’d promised, and requested, exclusivity for the duration of the affair. That was more than some guys offered. So she would banish the shades of other women.

  “What did you mean,” he asked, relaxed again, “when you said fellatio was one of the few things your lovers would allow?” The way he pronounced the word gave her even more of a kick than that he’d asked the question.

  “Well, pretty much no guy turns down a BJ.”

  “I imagine that’s true.” His tone was measured, but she knew he was amused by her. Something else she had to offer. She made him laugh and that was something.

  “I don’t know—it’s what I was trying to explain to you before. A lot of guys act kind of horrified if you suggest something non-vanilla. I mean, I don’t get it, it wasn’t their asses I was—anyway. Even the ones who wouldn’t go down on me would let me do that. So...I used them for practice.”

  “Practice?”

  She felt kind of silly. Did other girls—women—do this? “Okay, see, I figured that if I ever found a guy, a man who had real experience, like you, then he’d be a certain kind of man. One who would expect his lover to be able to deep throat and all. So I wanted to be good at it. If and when.”

  “If and when.”

  “Stop echoing me. I feel stupid enough as it is.”

  “And how else is this ‘certain kind of man’? What else does he expect?”