“Jean, when you hypnotized me you asked me to entrust myself to you. Now I’m going to ask the same of you. If I told you what I’m going to do, I might create conscious resistance, but I can promise that you will enjoy your journey as much as I did mine.”
“You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”
“Absolutely,” she said, hoping she appeared more confident than she must look in her pink chenille robe. “Do you have a better offer?”
“Okay, now that you put it that way.” He gave the room a questioning once-over. “Where do you want me?”
A short time later she had him stretched out in the rocker. She was grateful it could handle a man his size, although the chair was tilted so far back it could have been a recliner. She also arranged the computer monitor on the catalog tower so he could easily see the screen. The patterns oscillating on the screen were much like the ones that had mesmerized her.
“All I want you to do is breathe and relax,” she said softly. “Listen to my voice and relax. Feel yourself breathing, feel how deep it goes with every breath, and go with it, deeper… deeper…”
“One condition,” he said, his eyelids beginning to droop. “You can put me under but you have to wake me with a kiss.”
She tried not to smile. “You drive a hard bargain.”
Within moments his eyes were closed and his facial muscles had surrendered their tension. He appeared to be deeply relaxed and, hopefully, deeply suggestible, because her next step was to coach him on being open and receptive to everything she said. When she’d done that she would attempt the feat that she hoped would free him.
She studied his face in repose, admiring the sharp contrasts. Eyelashes as black as soot threw lyrical shadows over features set at dramatic right angles. She was especially drawn to the mouth she was going to kiss awake. He looked almost vulnerable, and she wasn’t too comfortable with the idea of taking advantage of him in this way, but it was for a good cause. How else was she going to save him? There was no other option, and if her plan worked, she would explain it to him when this was over—and he was grateful, she hoped.
“As you listen to my voice,” she said, “your mind is opening and expanding, and you are experiencing an emotion you’ve never felt before—a longing that is both deep and beautiful. Relax and let yourself feel it, Jean. Feel it awakening within you, this longing, rising like a flame. Something vital is missing, and you ache for it in every part of your being. It’s the hunger in your heart and the fiery urgency in your loins. It runs like a flood through your soul, this need. Feel it, Jean. Let yourself feel it. You ache for the most essential element of life—a mate, a lover, someone to complete you, to fulfill you in every way possible… someone to thrill you…”
Kerry’s mind flicked back to the way he’d aroused her the night before. Pleasure rippled through her, awakening a sensation in the deep reaches of her own belly. Her thighs tightened with that strange humming sensation. Her voice grew breathless.
“Someone who can make your heart leap painfully and send the blood searching through your veins,” she whispered. “A woman who can bring you to your knees with a sigh and bring you awake with a kiss. To love her is the sweetest kind of madness, and yet you have no choice. You need this woman, this siren of your soul, and you need her now.”
Kerry stopped herself, wondering what she was doing. The way her heart was pounding, she could have been spinning out her own fantasies. Was she programming him to want what she wanted? She cautioned herself not to say anything else, but the suggestions just kept tumbling out of her mouth… about how inflamed he was with longing, and how nothing would satisfy him except to make her his own.
“You must possess her, Jean, possess her or die of the longing…”
The rocker groaned, or was it him?
Kerry searched his features, aware of their sudden sensuality. His lips were parted and the heat rushing through them was steamy. Even his skin looked a little flushed.
What she had already done was nothing compared to what she had to do next. Had to. How could she suggest that he was falling in love and that love could save him, and not follow through with the rest of it? And anyway, she had a backup plan. If the hypnosis worked, and she freed him, she could put him back under later and erase the suggestions.
She traced her fingers over his lips, another irresistible impulse, and felt them quiver. Lord, what that did to her. She was humming everywhere.
“When you wake up, Jean,” she said, “you will see the woman you’ve always loved, the woman you were born to be with… and the only one who can save you.”
The hand that had touched him was shaking. This was the moment when she had to bring him back, but she was frightened.
Her heart ran riot as she bent to kiss him.
She brushed her lips over his, and a sound she couldn’t control slipped out.
His lids flickered and came open. Maybe it was the lashes, but Kerry didn’t have a chance. She was instantly immersed in the dark pools that gazed up at her. He was supposed to be the one in a trance.
“Kerry?” He said her name as if he’d just discovered how softly it could be mouthed.
She didn’t dare answer. Her voice would give her away.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, visually searching out every aspect. “I know I’ve said that before, but this is different, this I can’t define.”
“It’s all right.” She tried to stop him, but he caught a handful of her hair and drew her down for another kiss. His mouth touched hers with a force that was magically soft, yet frenzied. It was breathtaking. She was as dizzy as a child on a merry-go-round, and before she knew it, he’d pulled her right into the chair with him.
“Wait, Jean.”
“Wait for what? My God, Kerry,” he whispered, “can you feel what’s happening? Can you feel what you do to me?”
She could feel plenty. She’d landed on top of him, and her chenille robe had come open. He was generously endowed in more places than just his mouth… and getting more generous all the time.
“Jean, I don’t think—”
“That’s right, Kerry, don’t think. Don’t think, just feel. Feel what’s happening to me, feel what’s happening to you.”
She was vibrating. That’s what was happening to her. It was no longer a pleasant humming sensation in the pit of her stomach. It was a powerful current, and she could feel it all the way to her fingertips. She was sprawled on top of him and half naked under the chenille robe, which had fallen open and was no protection at all. Neither were the skimpy tank top and French-cut panties.
What had she done? Created a monster, that’s what she’d done.
He gazed at her through beautifully drugged lids, and his hands closed around her waist to position her atop him. The way he moved her, willfully nestling her soft curves against his hard ones, sent a sharp thrill through her nether parts.
“Jean, do you think maybe we could talk first? Just for a minute?”
“No, Kerry, I must have you. It’s not an option.”
His features were dangerously dark. “I need to possess you in every way a man can possess a woman. Every way and everywhere.”
“Everywhere?” Her thoughts went spinning to the hardness she’d landed on. His entire body was rock-solid, but the bulge between his legs could only be described as formidable. If what was happening there was any indication, then she was probably too small to be possessed anywhere, much less everywhere.
“Here,” he said, caressing her mouth with his fingertips. He tickled her pensive expression into a sensitive smile. “These beautiful lips must be conquered and made soft and slack.”
Next he traced a vibrant line down the length of her body to her hipbone, where he curved his thumb deeply into the hollow of her pelvis. “And here. This must be made wet and wanting.”
There was no question what part he was referring to now. He meant the tender throb between her legs, but he didn’t stop there. Kerry was stunned as he smiled
and reached around to trace the delicate cleft.
No, not there! She would have tumbled off him if he hadn’t caught her and held her firmly with his hands. His dark river of a voice nearly drowned her.
“Yes, Kerry, there and everywhere. This drive is too powerful to fight. Can’t you feel it? Tell me that your tender body isn’t aching to be penetrated in all the places I touched you. Tell me you don’t ache.”
She did. God, she did.
She closed her eyes and felt herself swaying with the chair. He brought her back with those persuasive, possessive hands. What was happening? If this was the perfect fantasy he promised, then was he the perpetually erect male slave or the plundering highwayman? Maybe a little of both.
The rocking chair crooned softly with each movement.
“Come to me,” he said.
She’d given him no choice when she hypnotized him. Now it felt as if she had none. Her needs were too raw. This ache was too great.
He clasped her by the thighs and guided her to a kneeling position. As her knees came forward and her body came up, she found herself straddling him at the juncture of his thighs. Now she was even more intimately pressed against the molten steel in his pants. Her legs were spread wide, her sex parts shyly kissing his.
The gentle sway of the chair created a steady, glorious friction. It hit her all at once that he was going to make love to her that way, rocking her deeply into orgasm after orgasm. She would straddle him, fully penetrated by his hardness, and rock until she dropped.
Even more shocking, she wanted it that way. She wanted it as urgently as he did. But when she tried to take off her robe, he wouldn’t let her, and it became clear that he had something else in mind.
“Wrap your legs around my waist,” he told her.
He lifted her into his lap, and once she was settled there, he rose from the chair and took her with him, robe and all. His hands were cupping her bottom, and Kerry thought she would die, it was so erotic. The steam heat of his palms, the placement of his fingers near her most intimate parts. If he moved a hair’s breadth, he would be molesting her.
Her thighs clenched tightly against him as she wondered where this reckless act of possession would take place. On the coffee table? Against the wall?
Where would he take her?
But he turned, and she found herself back in the rocking chair, arranged in the most exotic way imaginable. Her robe was hanging open, her arm was flung above her head and long, pale legs were draped over the arms of the chair. The fact that she was wearing panties made little difference now. She was completely exposed to his view, to his whim. He set the chair rocking, then sank to his knees and savored her from that angle, as if he were imagining every forbidden delight known to man.
Her poor mind was riveted on a single thought. Just look what she’d done with her hypnotic suggestions … just look!
As the chair rocked up, he blew a kiss to the soft pink crotch of her panties. A strange little sound caught in her throat. She tightened with anticipation. He let the chair swing freely for a moment, then caught it and held her there, held her in thrall as he bent over her and aroused her through her panties with feathery touches of his lips and tongue.
If she had a secret garden, then this was a dragonfly, touching down. She could barely feel him and it was the most erotic sensation imaginable. If he stopped, she would die. If he didn’t, she would die.
“It’s too light,” she whispered, “too light, I can’t bear it.”
But she couldn’t be heard over the moaning of the chair, and apparently Jean wasn’t inclined to stop anyway. Certainly not in the way that she meant. He actually caught the crotch of her panties between his teeth and pulled the material out, letting air rush into the heat between her legs.
Kerry arched in surprise. Her legs were suspended in the air for a second, and it felt as if the dragonfly were inside her now, gossamer wings beating.
“I don’t know what will happen if you don’t stop…”
“I do.”
The chair groaned as he released it, letting it rock gently back and forth.
Kerry groaned too as his tongue slid up and down the most sensitive part of her anatomy. The way it languidly swirled, she could have been an ice-cream cone or a cloud of cotton candy. What an exquisite thrill that was, like the point of a baton lightly riding the sole of the foot. His mouth was an instrument of sweet torture. Deep muscles fluttered tightly, and she could feel dampness seeping through her panties.
“Can’t bear—” was all she got out. The rest of it died in her throat as he gathered her up in his arms. He kissed her lips lightly, and when she made a sound of distress, he kissed her deeply. Kissed her to her very soul.
“Now I want you on your knees,” he told her under his breath.
She assumed they would exchange places, and that he would be the cotton candy, but if she was learning anything in this adventure with him, it was not to assume. There was a lovely old Aubusson carpet on the living room floor by the window, and they ended up there, with Jean lying on his back and Kerry on her knees at his head. Her panties and robe were gone now, draped over the rocker, but she was still wearing her tank top, and her breasts were hotly excited. It was sheer nervous anticipation. He hadn’t even touched her there, and yet her nipples were flushed and taut. Every shiver rustled the silky tank top against her skin. Every shiver set her more on edge.
He spread her open above him with his fingers, and then he inched her legs wider and wider, bringing her down to his mouth. The tension was fierce and wonderful. Her thighs shook as he tongued her softly and with the eloquence of a maestro. She raised her arms above her and cried out softly, barely aware of how she must look, like a penitent, begging for mercy.
The first orgasm that shook her brought her to her hands and knees. By the second, she couldn’t control the tremors anymore. She crumpled to her elbows and then fell onto her side, next to him. He gathered her close with his arm, and she drifted off, into some kind of ecstasy, floating… floating. Some time later she felt him easing from beneath her. ■‘ She drifted again, and when she awoke next, she was aware that he had rolled her onto her stomach, and that he was above her, possibly even astride her, whispering into her hair.
“Stay just as you are,” he said, “I’m going to take you this way.”
Somewhere inside Kerry was a barely discernible bleat of alarm. It was a frantic little sound that brought Jean close, whispering and touching her soothingly. Apparently he thought he’d frightened her. And he had. But she was also stirred to the depths of her being.
Kerry wondered if she was still breathing.
He moved over her, and his weight awakened something primitive within her, a mating response. His hands were in the hair at her nape, lifting, sifting. It was glorious. She felt his hardness pressing into her thigh and she responded helplessly, lifting her hips in enticement. It was an involuntary response. She wanted him in the most ancient, urgent way a female can want a male. She wanted him there, now, deeply and fast.
She heard the soft whine of a zipper being opened, and her whole body contracted. The familiar feel of denim against her bare legs told her that he hadn’t removed his clothes—and that he wasn’t going to. This was more than an act of possession, it was ravishment, and he was neither a highwayman nor a slave. He was a phantom lover who would steal his way into her heart, as well as her body. He would hold her in thrall until he’d stolen everything… even her naked, quaking soul. Especially that.
“Stay just as you are,” he whispered again. “Utterly still.”
She tried, but it was nearly impossible not to quiver as he brushed his lips over her uptilted derriere. A hand slipped through the seam of her thighs and lightly caressed her where she was hot and tingling. Wetness gushed at his touch, and nothing more was needed. She was wild to be entered.
“Rock back as if you were still in the chair,” he told her.
He guided her with his hands, and she did exactly as he sa
id. She swung her hips and tasted ecstasy. Tasted him.
He took her there, now, deeply… and slow.
It was the sweetest pressure in life, a sensation of being possessed and released all at once. Kerry surrendered herself with barely a whimper, shuddering helplessly at the lush thrill of penetration. He thrust into her reaches as smoothly as a hand into a snug velvet glove, and she tightened immediately. Tightened and quivered at the same time. Possessed and released at the same time. From the moment he entered her, she was floating in a sea of sensation, a shimmering world of light and sound.
It was delirious. She made pleading noises, unable to help herself. He was weight and darkness and the source of all pleasure. He was everything at that moment. She would be nothing without him. He couldn’t leave her. This couldn’t end. Even as the floodtide hit her and she knew that she was in the last throes, that this pleasure could not go on forever, she also knew that she had changed. Her body had changed, simply from this one act of possession. Her mind, her spirit, everything had been changed in some way, and she could never go back.
“Our journey isn’t over, Kerry.”
It will never be, she thought. And when he turned her on her back, she reached for him. They rushed to reconnect in the most intimate way possible, clinging mouths and yearning limbs, all pining for unity and oneness, and she told herself then that he would never leave her. If he felt anything like she did, he never could.
The first time she woke up, she realized they were still on the floor, and he was holding her. “We can’t stay this way,” he said. “Let me take you to bed.”
“No, not the bed, the rocker.”
“You want to be in the chair?”
“Yes, with you. We can cover ourselves with blankets and rock until we fall asleep. Please.”
He gathered her up and gently settled her in the soft leather cradle, then got a comforter from the bedroom and joined her. When they were all bundled up and she was blissfully pressed next to him, her leg draped over his thighs, she wondered if this was what it was supposed to be like between men and women. She’d never had anything like this. She felt whole for the first time in her life.
All Through the Night Page 8
