by Lynn LaFleur
Brett looked over her head. “The treasure chest?”
Treasure chest?
“Si, señor.” Raoul fished a key from his vest pocket, only half the size of the one he’d used to open the castle’s gate.
Brett dropped it into his jacket pocket without a word.
Raoul began backing away. “The main course is usually served between eight and eight-thirty, but we will await your pleasure.” He smiled at Abby and nodded to Brett. “Call us if you need anything, anything at all.”
Abby listened for the clack of Raoul’s heels against the flagstone and the sound of the gate closing behind him. Then she slid into Brett’s arms. Inside, the first course of their meal awaited them, but the only things that would satisfy her now were Brett’s mouth covering her and his hands all over her body. She wanted to taste and touch him everywhere. If she never ate another morsel of food, what she hoped to share with him now would sustain her forever.
Chapter Nine
Abby lifted her lips for Brett’s kiss. Whisper-light, the barest meeting of soft flesh against soft flesh. He cradled her face in his hands and tilted her head. His lips parted enough to feel the tip of his tongue touch hers. It was a promise of things to come.
Things she could hardly wait to experience.
Abby sensed the fire inside Brett, waiting to burst into an inferno at the right sign from her. She’d had a taste of his hunger last night in the parking lot. She wondered what it would take for him to lose control, to turn into the fierce lover she suspected he was.
She brushed her tongue against his. A deep growl came from his throat. His hands tunneled into her hair, holding her head still while he ravished her mouth.
The man kisses like a god!
Her knees grew weak. If a kiss melted her bones, Abby wondered how she’d feel lying naked in Brett’s arms. She shivered at the thought.
“Cold?” Brett asked.
“How can I be cold with kisses like that?”
His lips flashed in a wicked smile. “We’re just getting started.” He slowly slid his hands down her back. “I wonder what else I can do to warm you.”
Kissing her again, he clasped her buttocks and pulled her closer. The ridge of his cock pressed against her mound. Abby arched her hips forward and shifted them from side to side, caressing his hard flesh with her soft curves.
Cool air brushed her lower back before the warmth of his palms touched her. Abby realized he’d unzipped the back of her dress, all the way to the top of her buttocks. Panic flashed through her at the thought that the people on the yacht could see them. The panic quickly disappeared, replaced by inner heat. This was her special night, the night she could do anything she wanted, the night her most private fantasy would be fulfilled.
She wanted those people to see her and Brett.
Abby turned in Brett’s arms so her back touched his chest. Her dress slid down her arms until it hung on the tips of her breasts.
“Abby.”
Brett’s voice sounded rough and ragged. His hands dove inside her bodice to cup her breasts. Thumbs and forefingers soon turned her nipples into hard peaks. Abby reached back and dug her fingernails into his thighs. Her action caused her dress to slide farther down her body, exposing her breasts to the night air. With one little shimmy, her dress pooled at her feet, leaving her standing in nothing but a red thong and black stockings.
“I could take you right here.” Brett lifted and squeezed her bare breasts. “Do you want that? Do you want those people to watch me fuck you?”
“Would you? If that’s what I wanted?”
“Yes.”
Part of her longed to say yes. The sexy, this-is-my-fantasy part battled with the rational, sane part that would never make love to a man in front of an audience.
A long wolf whistle from a man on the yacht made the decision for her. Abby scooped up her dress, slid her arms into the sleeves and back onto her shoulders. “Not this time. Let’s go inside.”
He raised her hands to his mouth and kissed both palms. Holding one hand tightly, he led her back into the castle.
They passed two closed doors before Abby tugged Brett to a stop by the third one. “What’s behind the doors?”
“Playrooms.”
She didn’t understand what he meant. “Playrooms?”
Brett nodded. “For the more…adventurous guests.”
That statement tickled her curiosity. “Adventurous how?”
He turned the knob on the third door and pushed it open. “Take a look.”
Light from dozens of candles bounced off the stone walls. A large table sat in the middle of the room with a wooden headboard and footboard. Holes were drilled in each board, large enough for hands and feet.
Abby looked around the room with wide eyes. She saw a large wooden T in the corner with ropes hanging from the crossbar. Chains were attached high on one wall with metal cuffs on the ends. Shelves to her left held whips, floggers and other items she didn’t recognize.
“What is this?” She had a good idea, but wanted Brett to confirm it.
“The S and M room.”
“Wow.” She placed one hand on her chest. Her heart pumped wildly beneath her palm. “This is… Wow.”
“Are you interested?”
“No!” she said quickly. “I’m not into pain.”
“S and M doesn’t always mean pain. It can bring great pleasure.”
“You say that like you’ve…participated.”
“I have.” He ran one finger down her cheek. “With the right partner, pain can be very stimulating.”
His eyes glittered with heat. Abby’s heart pumped even harder. She swallowed. “Stimulating?”
“Mmm-hmm. There are a lot of ways to give your partner pleasure.”
“Such as?”
His smile was both wicked and teasing. He took her hand again and led her from the room. “I think we should have something to eat, don’t you?”
Surely he didn’t expect her to eat anything after he’d dropped his little bomb. “Are you going to answer my question?”
“I’d rather show you.”
Abby would rather he showed her too. She followed him willingly back to the cluster of couches. She watched him remove his tuxedo jacket and tie and lay them at the end of the couch. He dropped to his knees on the soft cushion and tugged her down next to him. Abby sat with her knees bent, her feet to the side.
White wine in ice and red on the table had materialized while Abby and Brett were outdoors. Brett opened both bottles and splashed some white into two wineglasses. He handed one to Abby before lifting his.
“To the pleasures the evening brings.”
Her clit gently throbbed as she sipped her wine. Her mind whirled with all the possibilities of what she and Brett would do this evening.
What he would do to her.
The chilled wine slid down her throat and warmed her stomach. “Very good.”
“Raoul always makes sure everything is perfect.” Brett set his glass on the low table. He gave her a wicked smile and picked up a small box from the table. Abby hadn’t noticed it there before they went outside.
“What’s that?”
He removed the lid and took out a sequined and feathered mask. “I want you to wear this.”
Abby set down her glass. She took the mask and turned it in her hand. The outside was made of feathers and sequins, the inside lined with satin. Red ribbon ties would hold it in place. “Someone forgot the eye holes.”
“That was at my request.” He leaned closer to her. “Do you trust me?”
Without hesitation, she said, “Of course I do.”
“Then wear it for me.”
She handed the mask back to him. “Please tie it on me.”
Brett moved behind Abby. Her dress was still unzipped, exposing her smooth back. He longed to kiss and lick the entire length of her back. He wanted to taste her far more than any of the dishes in the covered pewter bowls.
Patience. You’ll
do everything with her before the night is over.
He slipped the mask over her eyes and tied the red ribbons behind her head. “Can you see anything?”
“Nothing.”
“Are you okay with this?”
She nodded.
He couldn’t resist kissing the back of her neck before he returned to his spot on the couch. “We’re going to play a game.”
“A game?”
“I’m going to feed you something and you have to guess what you’re eating.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Not something weird like raw octopus?”
Brett chuckled. “No raw octopus, I promise.” He uncovered the first dish—tempura fried oyster and black beans. “We’ll start with something easy, so you’ll understand the rules of the game.” As always, Raoul or one of his staff had carefully labeled each item although Brett had chosen the menu. He was intimately aware of which foods satisfied a woman’s appetite as well as drove her libido.
“What happens if I guess wrong?”
“What do you think?”
“I’m guessing I’ll lose a bit of clothing.”
“Very good, but only a part of it.” He chuckled softly. “If I think you’re guessing wrong deliberately, the stakes go up.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Why not?”
When she didn’t answer, he knew he had her answer. She liked playing games too. Mentally he rubbed his palms together. If this didn’t turn into the best night of their lives so far, it wouldn’t be from lack of trying.
“But how can I guess an item correctly if I’ve never eaten it before?”
“Without visual stimulation, you’ll have to rely on your other senses to identify what you’d know in a second if you saw it.”
“I don’t just eat with my eyes, you know.” Her chin went up an inch. “I do have a palate.”
“Fine. Let’s test it.” He squeezed a drop or two of lemon on a wedge of onion. “Bite into this and tell me what you think it is.” He laughed softly. “This is a freebie. It won’t count against you when you guess wrong.”
He held the wedge only close enough for her to lean forward and nip it with her front teeth. Brett watched her slide it around her mouth, bite down, then swallow. “I think…” she began.
“You think what?”
“It’s an apple.”
“Wrong.”
She leaned back and licked her lips again. He’d carefully kept the wedge from touching her lips and leaving the taste she’d surely recognize.
“It could be jicama with lemon.”
“Very good. You’re partially right.”
“About the jicama?”
“No, the lemon.”
She sighed. “Okay, what was it—a rutabaga, a raw potato?”
He picked up another wedge, sans the squeeze of lemon, and passed it quickly beneath her nose.
“You’re kidding, an onion?”
“You can’t tell them apart except by the fragrance.”
This time she laughed. “Next you’ll be telling me it takes like chicken.”
“And spoil the game? Never.” While he spoke, he dished a bite-sized piece of the oyster tempura onto a tiny saucer and covered it with a teaspoon of sweet black bean pudding. “Open wide.”
She leaned forward and parted her lips, then closed them around the spoon. She chewed once or twice before she smiled. “I don’t know exactly how this was cooked, but there’s batter around an oyster, and I know the base of that sweet stuff is black beans.”
“Very good.”
“I guessed right?”
“You guessed right, but I told you the first one would be easy.”
“So that means I don’t have to take anything off.”
“Unfortunately, yes.” He uncovered the next bowl, where four inch-long links of Italian sausage steamed in a piquant fig sauce.
“Wait a minute. Fair is fair, isn’t it?” she asked. “If I guess wrong, I have to take off a piece of jewelry, a shoe or part of my clothing.”
“That’s what you agreed to.”
“But what if I get it right?”
“What if you do?”
“Well I think if I guess correctly, you have to take off something, and I get to choose what it is. Deal?”
That wasn’t what he’d planned, but he’d go along with her. With all he wore, she’d be naked long before he was. “Deal.”
“So off with the suspenders and cummerbund.”
He couldn’t argue with her. He unbuttoned the suspenders, unhooked his cummerbund, and dropped them in her lap.
“So you’ll know I’m not cheating.”
“I’d never accuse you of that.” Her grin told him otherwise.
He uncovered the bowl again, drove a fork into one of the sausage links and swirled it in the sauce. “Are you ready for your next guess?”
She nodded. Brett held the morsel to her mouth. “Open up.”
Abby parted her lips but instead of dropping it on her tongue, he slid it in and pulled it back.
The next time he tried that, she clamped it with her lips, held it a moment, and then let his game continue. With each slide of the sausage, Brett’s desire grew. Raoul had placed two warmed figs on the plate, and slid a sausage between each of their lips. Brett had blinked twice the first time he’d seen that. Now his cock was blinking along with him, especially at the way Abby savored the sausage he slipped in and out of her mouth. Finally, she captured the link and chewed.
”Linguisa,” she said, a note of triumph in her voice.
“Good. You’re half right again. What else?”
She ran her tongue over her bottom lip. “You mean the sauce?”
“Yes.”
“I taste nutmeg, and cinnamon.” She licked a bit of sauce off of her lips. “Um…brandied cherries.”
“Close,” he answered. “Figs. But close doesn’t count.” He reached for her feet and pulled them into his lap.
Brett slipped off one of her shoes and slowly massaged her foot. His hands made a swishing sound as they moved over her silk stocking. He repeated the action on her other foot until Abby released a low moan.
“If this is what guessing wrong is all about, ask me another question. That feels wonderful.”
“That’s the whole point of this evening, making you feel really good.” He pressed his thumb into the ball of her foot and massaged it hard. “And to make you come so many times, you’ll lose count.”
She gasped. “You keep talking like that, and I…I… I don’t know what I’ll do.”
“You don’t have to know because I do.” He tagged the balls of each of her feet with a kiss and gently lowered them to the cushion. “Ready to try something else?”
“Wait. I got it half right, didn’t I? It’s your turn to take something off, remember?”
So she had. And apparently she wasn’t going to let him get away with anything. Brett slipped off his shoes and tossed them to the floor next to Abby’s. “Shoes gone. Okay?”
She smiled. “Okay.”
After wiping his hands with a moist towelette, Brett uncovered another bowl that contained a mound of Arabian couscous with pine nuts and raisins. On a plate next to it, a variety of crackers straight from the chef’s oven. He spread some of the pale mixture on a cracker shaped like a triangle and brought it to her lips.
“Umm, I think I smell lemon again.”
“Don’t waste your guesses until you taste.”
Abby bit into the cracker, chewed, swallowed and smiled. “Currants?”
“Wrong, guess again.”
“Polenta?”
“Nope.”
Her smile faded. “What do you mean, nope?”
“Polenta’s made of corn. Nothing corny in this.”
Abby huffed out a breath. “Then it has to be grits.”
“Wrong again.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, what is it?”
“Couscous.”
“Are you sure? It’s never
tasted like this.”
“You’ve never had it at Whispers.” Brett was glad she couldn’t see his grin. “Right is right and wrong is wrong. You were wrong on all guesses, so I get to remove something else. Maybe two or three things.”
He carefully slipped off her earrings and laid them on the table. “That’s one.”
He ran his hands up the outside of her thighs, beneath her dress, and leaned forward and kissed the sensitive spot beneath her ear. Abby sighed and tilted her head. Brett took advantage of her position to tug on her earlobe with his teeth. He nibbled his way down her neck and over her jaw to her mouth. Her lips parted for the gentle thrust of his tongue.
A strangled sound came from her throat. She clutched his upper arms and deepened their kiss. When she touched his tongue with hers, Brett ended the kiss.
Kissing her so passionately and pulling away did not make his hormones happy. His cock was harder than a goalpost. He cleared his throat before he spoke. “Time to try something else.”
The third dish held bite-size pieces of a baked quail with a sauce even he didn’t recognize. He tried a bite first, then dipped another piece in the sauce and held it to her lips. “Open.”
She remained silent for several moments after she swallowed.
“Are you going to guess?” Brett asked.
“It tastes like chicken, but you wouldn’t give me something as everyday as chicken.”
Brett bit his lip to keep from laughing. She’d figured out his strategy. By feeding her foods that were a bit out of the ordinary, he’d get her naked faster. “Take a guess.”
“I don’t have to guess. This was always one of my favorites. I love dark meat. It’s roasted quail in a lovely piquant plum sauce.”
“Shit,” he muttered.
Abby laughed and fluttered her fingers while she tried to find her wineglass. She grasped it by the stem and held it out toward him. “I’m not sure which goes best with a strip show—white or red.”
“You drive a hard bargain, woman.” Brett splashed more wine in her glass and handed it back to her. His socks landed on top of the pile of shoes. “I’m barefoot. Are you happy?”
“Immensely.”
That satisfied grin of hers had to go. He uncovered another dish, and smiled. She wouldn’t guess this one. He forked a bite-size piece and lifted it to her lips. “Open.”
