Seduce: A Cariad Romance Three Book Bundle (Cariad Collections)

by Stein, Charlotte

  Michael laughed. ‘We may be Levensteins but we’re grafters and we come from tough stock. You’d like my family, Imogen, and they’d like you.’

  ‘Why, do I believe you?’ she replied, thrumming with ecstasy as she trailed her fingers across his face. ‘I do believe you.’

  ‘Here’s the plan.’ Michael whispered.

  Chapter Seven

  Imogen dressed, she put on her simple blue dress and her string of pearls but for the first time she didn’t bother with the silk stockings. Next, she called Helga Streiber and taking a car, they drove out to the suburbs.

  Helga had already dressed Anni in her cream coat and she wore a pair of pink stockings and buckled shoes. As they sat in the car she played with Imogen’s earrings and her face was glowing. She looked, Michael thought, adorable and just like her mama. He took them shopping and he bought her and Anni some new dresses and shoes and he never let her out of his sight. Gradually the fear left Imogen – maybe if Louis had been watching he’d been scared away. Michael bought her a square deco diamond engagement ring and then he bought tickets for New York.

  Once, a long time ago, Imogen had walked through the same lounge of the Adlon Kempinski Hotel with Louis, in a pair of very high heels and in a fine silk dress and fine silk stockings, but that seemed a long time ago.

  That night, they celebrated their engagement whilst Helga Streiber babysat Anni in their sumptuous suite.

  Imogen felt like she was in a dream as she stared at Michael across the table. He’d asked for a small table, he’d been very specific and as she tried to eat her soup he slipped his hand up and down her legs, which were dressed now in the finest silk stockings money could buy. Upstairs, just for a laugh, he’d filled her make-up bag with Cervin.

  He fucked her sensuously, his finger pressed into her cunt and a deadpan expression on his face. Occasionally he stroked her suspender belt, back and forth, before moving from cunt to suspender. Her spoon dropped with a rattle when she orgasmed and everyone looked. ‘Whoops.’

  ‘Whoops.’ Michael leaned over the table.

  ‘Well, ain’t this a pretty sight?’ Louis said.

  Imogen was so startled she knocked over her glass of champagne spilling it on the white tablecloth. Her hand flew to her mouth and the blood drained from her face.

  ‘So, the stocking whore’s returned to her nesting place. You know, babe you always looked best in chic surroundings. I think there’s something classy about a sexy whore who hides it under the table.’

  She had not broken her gaze with Michael who had now surreptitiously removed his cunt wet finger from under the table and whose eyes were like shards of ice in his handsome face.

  ‘Well, holy shit if it isn’t Louis Berner. I’ve been waiting to make your acquaintance Mr Berner,’ Michael said coldly.

  Never had Imogen loved Michael more than in that moment as he sat back assuredly in his chair, before pushing it out a fraction he crossed his legs and hands over his belly and considered Louis coolly.

  Louis, who was chewing on his customary cigar, stopped the movements of his mouth. He was surprised and no wonder, because Louis wasn’t used to being answered back.

  ‘What the hell?’ he said finally, grabbing hold of Michael’s collar and pulling him to his feet so he could stare in his face. ‘Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?’

  Imogen was on her feet and her heart was thumping. ‘Louis, let him go, this isn’t worth it.’

  ‘And that goes for you too, you whore. Who do you think you’re talking to?’

  Imogen’s lips trembled. By now everyone had noticed what was going on and they’d all stopped eating so they could watch the free entertainment. Louis’s grip was tightening.

  ‘Well Imogen, you sure surprise me, ’cause I sure as hell didn’t think you went for pretty boys.’

  Michael’s more of a man than you’ll ever be,’ Imogen said. ‘You inhabit the sewers, Louis, that’s where you come from. You and your dirty money.’ Tears were stinging her eyes.

  ‘I’ve come to get my daughter,’ Louis said turning his attention to Imogen. ‘Where is she? ’Cause I’m taking her home. There ain’t no way on this earth I’m leaving her with her whoring mummy. Is this how you do it, babes? You go for men who can wine and dine you. Nice society men. How much you charging him?’

  Imogen’s lips trembled. ‘How dare you!’

  Louis had loosened his hold on Michael as two waiters headed their way. He straightened his tie. ‘Well, I guess I’ll be seeing you in court then?’

  Imogen looked at Michael who was stroking down his collar; he didn’t seem at all perturbed.

  ‘I’ve seen a whole lot of guys like you, Mr Berner, so I won’t press charges,’ he said succinctly. ‘Why don’t you head on out of Dodge peacefully. Imogen’s not yours to worry about, come here, Imogen.’ He held out his hand and Imogen came around the table. Michael put his hand around her waist. ‘Perhaps you’ll say sorry to the future Mrs Levenstein.’

  Louis burst into laughter. ‘You’re pulling my leg. You telling me you’re marrying this cunt whore?’

  ‘Sure, I love her and I’m marrying her, so if you want to take on the whole Levenstein family including my father Abel Levenstein, you’re welcome.’

  Louis stared for a moment and his cheeks turned red. ‘You’re kidding me, you can’t be that Levenstein? How on God’s earth could a Levenstein go as low as to end up with this tart?’

  Michael was stroking her butt with sensuous back and forward sweeps of his hand. When she looked at him, he was cool, cool and strong and she loved him more than ever.

  ‘I’m that Levenstein,’ he said. ‘And, I’d crawl through the sewers for this tart.’

  Louis glanced at the waiters again, and then he stared at Imogen before he pointed his large thumb at her. ‘You realise you ain’t heard the last of this?’

  Imogen said nothing.

  Chapter Eight

  Later, she was sitting on the edge of Anni’s bed and Michael came and leant against the doorframe, he was holding a glass of champagne. Imogen kissed her daughter’s forehead and then, strolling over to Michael, she stepped out into the suite’s sumptuous lounge quietly pulling the door up behind her. ‘Am I totally free of Louis?’ she asked, as taking the champagne she sipped it.

  Michael was wriggling the peach lace peignoir he’d bought her that afternoon, up her leg and circling her skin with his thumb.

  ‘I’m thinking he could be a bug flying around our heads for awhile but he hasn’t got anything on you.’ Michael grinned. ‘My brother telephoned me this afternoon. I was going to keep what he said for when I was fucking you and we were just about to get to the high point in the proceedings, but I can’t wait.’

  ‘You dog.’ She wound her arms around his neck and Michael slid his finger into the slit between her butt cheeks and teased her hole.

  ‘Apparently, Louis Berner has a list of petty crimes so long I could nail him tomorrow, but I don’t think he wants that. I reckon he’ll keep his head down from now on. No one wants to tangle with a Levenstein.’ He studied her lips before touching them with his finger.

  ‘Thank God.’ Imogen replied, relaxing as her body folded around him.

  ‘You’re one hell of a beautiful silk stocking whore, do you know that?’

  ‘If any other guy said that to me now I’d string his balls up.’ She narrowed her eyes teasingly. ‘I may even string up his balls with my silk stockings.’

  ‘That sounds good to me. How would you do that? Describe it to me in graphic detail. How hard and how tight?’ He was laughing as he pushed his finger further inside her and Imogen shivered in warm orgasmic bliss, combing her hands through his thick hair.

  ‘Am I safe now, Michael, really safe?’

  ‘Sure you’re safe, you and Anni. Now, show me you Cervin bitch, show me how tight you’d bind me with those silk stockings.’

  Her hand moved downwards and she began working his flies, before coming inside and aga
inst his bare testicles with slow determined purpose. The thrill of sex felt even better now, better because she was free to fly with her emotions and she didn’t feel as if she was held in such tightly stretched, mental bondage by Louis. A warmth blossomed inside her, which was more than orgasm, it was intense burning ecstasy, melting away the last droplets of icy fear. She ran across the lounge and into their bedroom, and putting down her champagne class and dragging open the bedside drawer she picked up a handful of her Cervin stockings, waving them in front of him. ‘I’m about to show you how tight Michael. Something like this.’

  Raising her arms she stripped off the peignoir, letting it slither to the floor with the hiss of exaggerated silk.

  ‘Holy Moses!’ Michael’s gaze flickered over her naked curves as she sashayed around him. ‘Wow.’ She’d creamed her legs and shaved her pubic thatch and she stood in front of him dressed in just her silk suspenders and as usual, her silk Cervin stockings. Imogen pushed Michael back against the wall, rubbing her crotch against his pant leg. When their lips met, the embrace was hot and wet and it was all to the accompaniment of Michael’s finger dancing in and out of her hole again as she ground her pelvis against his ramrod hard cock.

  ‘I’d tie them up so tight you’d scream … do you really want me to describe to you what I’d do next, or would you rather I showed you?’ Imogen’s hand was curling over his thrusting cock. Smoothing a stocking between her fingers, she ran her tongue over the naked silk and tying it expertly around Michael’s balls she led him towards the bed.

  Imogen unbuttoned his fine crisp white shirt, and kissing his rigid nipples she slithered down his body and licking his skin, wriggled his pants down over his hips. His cock was near her mouth and Michael was trembling.

  ‘Show me, darling,’ Michael croaked huskily, pulling her backwards towards the bed. ‘Show me how it’s gonna be, married to a silk stocking whore. But, you sure as hell can’t wear me out, remember, ’cause we’ve got that early flight first thing tomorrow.’ Michael’s hand was on one of her silk stockings and Imogen dropped to her knees between his legs, kissing his balls with dancing feather-like motions of her lips and her tongue before she began winding the Cervin stocking tighter and tighter. Michael was laughing, however, his face had become serious and intent. ‘Oh, I see what you mean.’

  ‘Tighter?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, tighter. Fuck me with those silk stockings, babe.’

  Imogen attached the one Cervin to another and tying it around his waist she fashioned Michael a chastity belt. The belt pulled his balls back and high and they squeezed pleasurably.

  ‘Well, well,’ Michael teased. ‘Mrs Levenstein, I do believe you’ve made me my own chastity belt. You surely are a silk stocking whore aren’t you?’

  Imogen’s tongue balanced on her lips, she was shaking with excitement as she tightened the silk stockings even more so Michael’s cock and balls were neatly presented for her tongue. ‘Tight enough for you, baby?’

  ‘No, keep going.’ He was staring at her as his breath came in short static gasps, and she drowned in the intensity of that look which said, “I love you Imogen.” Michael eased the combs out of her hair and the blond cascade tumbled over her shoulders as Imogen started winding yet another silk stocking tighter and tighter around his pole.

  ‘How does that feel?’

  ‘Like I’m on fire.’ Michael sat down on the bed with a grunt and Imogen’s tongue darted out to gather the drop of precome on his tip. Imogen guessed a tight silk stocking wound so tightly around something as sensitive as a cock was bound to make any man excited. She eased him into her mouth and slid her tongue up and down and around before biting the turgid stem; teasing it and flicking her tongue against the tip.

  ‘I should make you pay for that,’ he said.

  ‘You can make me pay later.’ Her hands moved around and she cupped his buttocks, jerking on the silk stocking as she did so. The sensation made him groan with pleasure. She loved the taste of him, the feel of him as he began to rock in and out of her mouth and the best part was, it was going to go on for some time, well at least until she let him take off the silk stockings chastity belt. Michael stretched back on the bed, drawing her down onto his hard muscular body.

  ‘Mrs Levenstein, I adore you. Now tell me how many naughty silk stocking whore tricks you know?’

  ‘Plenty. But, for now I just want to love you, Michael.’

  She traced his lips with her finger, kissing him deeply, deliciously, whilst his rigid cock forced its way between her legs and began nuzzling her greedy moist place. He was beginning the slow dance and the rigid tip felt achingly good nuzzling inside her, sliding in and out as she lifted her leg and coiled it around him and drew him even deeper inside; the stocking clad balls hard against her groin. She giggled, tweaking one with her fingers.

  Michael breathed hotly in her ear as their slick bodies began to move with a newer more urgent kind of friction. He loved her in many different ways as she tumbled on the bedclothes and the arching wave of ecstasy rose and fell and rose again and always her hand was on the silk stocking chastity belt, loosening it and tightening it as she controlled the pleasure.

  It was only when he was thrusting gently with his hands squeezing hard into her buttocks she realised she wanted him now and completely and she loosened the silk stocking bondage to allow the warm throbbing explosion high up inside her. It was all the things she’d dreamt about but not dared hope for; a clenching swirling spasm of bliss as she tightened around him and her whole body seemed to gather him in

  ‘God, I love you Michael Levenstein,’ she murmured softly.

  Afterwards, she spread out naked on the bed, stretching each of her limbs languorously. I thought there was only one kind of man to be caught by a silk stocking cocktease, she pondered as Michael’s hand crept under her stocking and he began kissing her crotch. She’d always be a silk stocking whore but she’d nailed one hell of a fine man with a pair of Cervin.

  A Cariad Collection

  Published by Accent Press

  Copyright © Charlotte Stein 2012

  Copyright © J J Monroe 2014

  Copyright © Constance Munday 2013

  The right of Charlotte Stein, J J Monroe and Constance Munday to be identified as the authors of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  The stories contained within this book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be copied, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publishers:

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