Latvis Security Services

by Lexie Ray

  Chapter Eight

  Willow couldn’t sit still. She couldn’t recall a single moment of the second half. It was all lost under a blur of imagined touch and taste. Of questing fingers, stroking, caressing deep within her, drawing forth a deep ache that she wasn’t able to quell. The longer it carried on, the more elaborate and detailed the fantasies became.

  Alone in the back row, her imagination sculpted an image just as Mads had described. Her chest ached with a growing need to be touched. The air conditioning swallowed her, cooling her fevered skin, as her imagination mulled over just how it would feel against the sensitive flesh of her nipples. Her thighs twitched as a growing heat burned in the pit of her stomach.

  Finally, the curtains drew closed and the audience gave a standing ovation. Willow’s knees felt weak as she forced herself up and joined the applause. Mads took his time. Taking off his jacket, he draped it over his arm in a perfect fold of material that covered his crotch. Willow studied him carefully, trying to determine if he was still at all affected by what had passed between them. She was well beyond the point of being embarrassed when Mads turned his head and found her staring at his crotch. He arched an eyebrow at her. She only smirked in return.

  Penelope kept close to Mads’ side as they made their way back into the main hall. Willow didn’t know if she should be enraged or relieved when she found the foyer once again filled by mingling people in formal wear. The hall filled with boisterous laughter and the soft tinkle of crystal flutes. Champagne flowed freely and people were happy to indulge. Once again, Mads became a lightning rod for attention.

  People swarmed around him, all hanging on his every word as he regaled them with stories and observations. Glass in hand, Willow leaned against one of the far walls and watched Mads with interest. It was a rare treat to be able to see Count Latvis in action. He enthralled the people around him, able to make each person in his audience feel as if they were holding the full amount of his focus.

  An hour later and people were still flocking to talk to him. Willow tried to count how many of them took advantage of his heritage to greet him in the ‘traditionally European’ manner, with swift kisses planted on each cheek. It would have been far easier to count who didn’t greet him like that. That didn’t surprise her. What did was just how phenomenally erotic she found it to hear Mads speak different languages. He shifted easily from one to the next, depending upon the person he was talking to.

  It made something within her stir to hear the foreign words flow from his mouth, smooth as molasses, graceful as poetry, his tongue and mouth working in perfect harmony to make sounds she had never heard him produce before. It gave her lecherous mind a million ideas of how those words might feel when spoken against her lips. She squeezed her legs tightly, but couldn’t quell the growing throb.

  The champagne had given her a sublime buzz by the time Mads managed to extract himself and made his way back over to her. Without comment, he curled his fingers around the crystal flute, the heat of his fingers purposefully passing against Willow’s chilled palm as he removed the glass form her hand. His eyes never left hers as he took a long sip.

  Licking his lips, he smiled. “Are you ready to leave?”

  She watched in fascination as the tip of his tongue slipped out to collect the droplet of moisture from his bottom lip.

  “Yeah. I’m good. Kind of hungry.”

  “I am certain I can find something to satisfy you,” he said. His teasing smile melted away as his breaths grew heavy. “Perhaps at my home, if you would care to accompany me.”

  Willow nodded before she could find her voice. “Yeah. That sounds good.”

  ***

  The snowfall had continued throughout the night and, by the time they returned, their feet sank deep into the soft powder with every step. Mads watched carefully as Willow pulled her jacket more tightly around herself. The well-worn and aged material stood in stark contrast to the beautiful dress. It also didn’t seem to do much to protect her from the chill.

  He unlocked the front door and quickly stepped aside, allowing her to rush into the warmth of the house. She stopped in her high heeled shoes, attempting to get her blood flowing again. Moving slowly to give her time to adjust, Mads came up behind her and placed a hand against her lower spine. She tensed.

  “Would you like me to start a fire?”

  “Yeah, thanks.” Her voice crackled with nerves and she kept her arms tightly, protectively, wrapped around herself.

  Mads tapered down on the desire to lead her into the living room. The feel of her body pressed against his palm was not something that he wanted to give up. But she obviously wasn’t comfortable. It took a mammoth amount of effort for him to remove his hand and leave her in the foyer. His stomach twisted up into a painful knot, tightening with every step he took to increase the distance between them.

  With practiced skill, he didn’t need more than the thin trails of moonlight that seeped in between the curtains in order to pile the kindling within the massive fireplace. He struck a match and a new light blossomed into the room. The tiny flame quickly took hold of the dry wood, devouring it with a flurry of sparks. The fire grew to offer a new source of warmth and light to the room.

  Willow ventured closer, watching the fire with a soft, pleased smile. Completely aware of her presence, Mads didn’t turn to her. He tended to the fire, allowing her time to adjust to the warmth. With each passing second, his desire for her grew stronger. It gnawed at his insides, like a beast pacing within the cage of his body.

  Slowly, he rose to his feet. Willow watched him carefully. Her arms were still wrapped around herself, but with a far looser grip then before. Coming to her side, Mads tilted his head down to take a soft breath of the sweet smell of her perfume. It was provoking and thrilling to have the notes of his own perfume mixed in with her usual scent. But there was something more now. Something he had only ever caught in essence before. Lust. He breathed deep, holding it within himself until his head swam with it.

  He inched around her and reached up, curling his fingers around the edges of her jacket. The skin that pressed against his knuckles made him shiver with delight. Willow unfolded her arms and allowed him to slide the jacket off of her shoulders. A smile fluttered across her face as she watched him carefully folded the old and patched up jacket.

  “Are you still cold?” he asked, taking his time to carefully drape the material over the arm of the nearest chair.

  It looked odd, resting atop the carved wood of the antique Russian armchair, but still struck him as perfectly in place.

  “I’m warming up pretty fast.”

  “Good.”

  Turning back, he once again positioned himself behind her. The expanse of soft skin made his heart stammer. Indulging the urge, Mads allowed his fingers to flutter over each freckle that decorated her skin like constellations. A galaxy upon splendid flesh. Willow’s breath caught, but she didn’t try to pull away. Eventually, he skirted his touch along the border the material made against her skin. It curved down to meet at the middle of her spine.

  His fingers closed around the zipper and he slowly, tooth by tooth, opened the material, exposing a new playground of skin. The trail followed her spine, ending as her spine rose up into the curve of her buttocks. With all of its decoration and boning, the bodice was like a layer of armour. It held its scale a he peeled it from her torso, his mind stammering at the realization that she didn’t have on a bra.

  Mads let the material drop to pull at her feet. Shock and desire held him solid as he took in her body, his mind unable to find enough room left within it to full understand what he was seeing.

  “You did not wear any underwear.”

  “I didn’t have any with me,” she admitted within a soft, nearly bashful whisper.

  “Is that a regular occurrence?”

  “Do I detect disapproval or admiration, Count Latvis?”

  Her voice was teasing and swift and flooded him with a new wave of warmth. It hit him with s
uch force that it left his hands trembling. He skirted them over her bare shoulders, tracing the more familiar territory before they ventured further down. He marveled at how much of her skin he could cover with his hands alone. As his thumbs followed the curve of her spine, his hands could curve around her skin, allowing his index fingers to trail along her sides.

  She hummed, her body rolling into the touch as he neared her hips. Closing his hands over his hips, his fingers digging slightly into her tender flesh, he began to turn her around. She held her ground.

  “I can’t help but notice that you are very well dressed at the moment,” she said.

  “Actually, I am far more appreciative of your current outfit.”

  Willow looked over her shoulder, the billowing mass of her curly hair perfectly framing her face. He felt himself swelling to a painful degree and he clenched his teeth to keep in the pitiful whimper that wanted to work its way free.

  “You’re going to have to even out the scale here, Mads.”

  “Might I remind you that you have seen plenty of me?” he replied.

  She shrugged her shoulder, her hair sweeping down in a beautiful curtain to swing against her enticing skin. The sharp clack of her heels rolled off the walls as she made her way to the fireplace. Still with her back to him, Willow placed one hand to the mantle and used the other to slip out of her shoes. The firelight gave her skin a golden halo, the play of shadows ghosting and pooling, drawing more attention to places Mads wanted to taste and caress.

  Once more, she looked over her shoulder at him, her hair partially covering her face and drawing all the more attention to her piercing eyes. Meeting the challenge within her eyes, Mads pulled his suit jacket from his shoulders. A smile spread across Willow’s face as he tossed the jacket carelessly onto the nearest furniture.

  “You’re becoming a slob,” she teased.

  His eyes followed along the curves of her body. “I have more pressing matters.”

  In short order, he opened the line of buttons and, peeling his shirt off, dropped it onto the floor. Toeing out of his shoes and socks, his hands slowed as they reached the buckle of his belt. Willow licked her lips as he began to thread the leather through the buckle.

  “You have seen this before,” he reminded her.

  “Something tells me it’s going to feel a little different this time.”

  Her eyes made it clear what she was talking about. She watched with rapid attention as he slowly worked open the bottom of his fly. Relief flooded through him as his straining cock was freed from the confines of his pants.

  “What is with you and button flies?” she asked.

  “Zippers do not allow enough room.”

  Willow laughed. It was a soft, sweet sound, one that Mads he had never heard before, and it ignited a need within him anew. With quick jerks, he released the last of the buttons and allowed his pants to drop to the floor, followed closely by his boxer briefs.

  The frozen night air was a welcome relief to his overheated skin. Willow’s gaze trailed over him, lingering over every inch of his body, every ridge and valley that the dancing firelight must have accentuated.

  Mads stood still under the appraisal. There was something liberating about being here with her, with nothing left to separate them, from pretense to clothes. But it didn’t stop the increasing swell of need that filled his cells and heightened his senses. He quaked under the force of it, relishing the increasing, maddening need. Eventually she smiled, and he took his first steps towards her.

  Each step closer felt like he was crossing nations. Finally, she was close enough to touch. She turned, fully baring herself to his gaze. Light and shadow played over her, turning her into something ethereal, a nymph too perfect to be real. For a moment, he was scared to reach out and touch her, just in case she was to fade back into the vapor of his dreams.

  “Mads?”

  His insides liquefied into molten lava and he released a huffed breath.

  “I do quite enjoy my name upon your lips,” he smiled.

  He lifted his hand and Willow took it with a suspicious smile.

  “Did you think about what I asked you to?” He led her back across the room to a fainting lounge. The gentle slope would serve well enough for his purposes.

  “Maybe.”

  “Are we really still in a position where you feel the need to be coy?”

  She shrugged. “Are we really at a point where you no longer have to work for it?”

  He eased her down onto the sofa, positioning her so that her back was propped at an angle.

  “Have I struck you as lazy? Please, allow me to dispel such horrible thoughts.”

  He enjoyed the curious looks she threw him as he arranged her legs, draping one over each side of the sofa, allowing her toes to brush over the slightly-chilled floor. It was far too enjoyable to give her some kind of response, so instead, he bestowed a swift, deep kiss before pulling back.

  “One moment, please.”

  “What?”

  She moved to sit up, but he put a hand on the center of her chest. He pushed just enough to ease her back down, then spared a moment to brush the palm of his hand over her erect nipple. Her back arched slightly at the brief touch. A pleased smile spread across his face, his chest squeezing with anticipation.

  “Stay just like that,” he whispered against her mouth.

  She eased back down into the sofa, her eyes narrowed with suspicion. He loved the weight of her gaze upon him, following his every gesture and step. It assured him that she wasn’t going to hurriedly flee as he crossed the room to collect the heavy decorative mirror off of the wall. While she didn’t say anything as he brought it back, the questions in her eyes spoke volumes. He ignored them as he propped the mirror against the side of the Russian armchair.

  Finally, she couldn’t keep the question in. “What are you doing?”

  He smiled as he carefully edged the mirror from side to side, ignoring her as he sought out the perfect angle. When he was satisfied with his work, he turned. He lifted one finger and tutted her upon finding that she had closed her legs.

  “You’re kidding me,” she smirked.

  “As you were before, if you would be so kind.”

  He drifted to the side as she hesitantly parted her legs once more. Once her feet touched the ground again, she noticed her reflection. His angles were prefect. From her lounging position, she was able to watch herself in the polished glass, a perfect view of between her legs. Kneeling down next to her, Mads saw how delightfully the firelight played across her slick folds. As soon as the shock wore off, Willow moved to close her legs.

  He placed a hand again her thigh, increasing the pressure until she stilled.

  “In all of the thoughts you had tonight,” he whispered as he crouched down beside her. “Did you ever picture yourself in such brilliance?”

  Willow gasped a laugh, the sound crackling with nervous energy. But under it there was lust and want and it propelled Mads into action. He crept his hand up her thigh, massaging each patch of tense muscle. Willow gasped and melted back down against the sofa, the back of her head hitting the heavily padded material with a heavy thump.

  “Uh uh,” he chastised. “Head up.”

  Willow surged up to glare at him.

  “You like my hands.”

  “I regret ever telling you that,” she muttered.

  “I want you watch them,” Mads continued, his voice barely a whisper, drifting across the side of her neck.

  He slipped his free hand between her head and the back of the sofa, propping her up a little higher, preventing her from being able to shy away.

  “I want you to watch those hands give you the pleasure you imagined,” he said, before placing a soft kiss to her shoulder. “Will you do that for me?”

  He asked the question as he curved a finger around the edges of her folds, drifting through the patch of curls while never touching Willow where she wanted it the most. Her hips arched, seeking the contact. He moved with
her, keeping his touch just beyond reach.

  She hissed through clenched teeth, “It doesn’t seem like I have much of a choice in this.”

  “Of course you do.” He smiled at her through the shadowed reflection.

  When her gaze slipped down to where he wanted it, he swirled the pad of his finger around her clit. She gasped, her hands skirting wildly over the surface of the couch, looking for something to hold onto and finding nothing. But she kept her eyes on her reflection and he rewarded her for the effort. He slid his finger between her folds and circled her entrance but never dipped inside.

  “But there are certain perks to agreeing to my suggestions.”

  He couldn’t resist scraping his teeth along the slope of her shoulder. Her skin offered the most divine pressure against the sharpened edge of his canine tooth. She moaned under him, her whole body shivering under his touch. Swirling around her entrance once more, he dipped his fingers into the warmth of her body.

  Willow ached at the intrusion, the walls of her body shifting and clenching around him. This time, as her hand skirted for purchase, it found Mads’ his shoulder and clenched with an iron grip. He inched his fingers in and out, pressing deeper on every thrust, rhythmically flicking the pad of his thumb across her clit. Any time her eyes closed he would stop, refusing to give into her desperate pleas until she was once again watching.

  Her eyelids became hooded as he slowly worked her, exploring every inch that he had been imagining for so long. He pushed deeper and curled his fingers up, coiling and stretching, as if beckoning her release closer. With a staggered mewl, Willow threaded her trembling fingers into his hair and pulled him roughly down.

  In a not-so-subtle suggestion, she forced his mouth over the straining nub of her nipple. Her grip tightened until it stung, her back arching as she pushed him down, shoving her breast deeper into his mouth. With a soft chuckle, he licked and sucked at the mouthful, wearing the nub between his teeth.

  Sweat added a salty hint to the delicacy of her skin. Drunk on the taste, Mads twisted just enough that he could once again catch sight of her within the mirror. It was a glorious sight. The pain of his overly strained cock became a delicious agony as Willow’s watched her body welcome his fingers. They slid deeper into the slick, damp inferno that was her body, making her legs shake and her chest heavy. Every trace of her anxiety had melted away under the current of her growing lust.