by Alyson Chase
He crawled on the bed beside her, the mattress dipping, and gathered her hair in a mass at the nape of her neck. She rested her head back on her forearms. Separating the locks into three sections, he braided it down her back, his thick fingers nimbler than she would have expected.
Picking up the leather string, he wound it around the tail of her braid. “Anytime you work around fire, certain safety precautions must be taken. I like to make sure no loose hairs have a chance to be exposed to heat.”
Colleen’s shoulders sank into the mattress. The feel of a man’s fingers brushing through her hair was one of the more sensuous experiences she’d had.
“I also have a wet cloth nearby, so if anything is too hot for you, let me know, and I’ll place the towel on the area.” Tucking the braid up next to her head, he ran his fingers down her neck to her back, slowly rubbing away any tension.
“Isn’t this supposed to burn?” Colleen asked. “How will I know if it’s too hot?”
“Sting, yes. Some discomfort.” He dug his thumbs into her shoulder blades, and she let out a breathy sigh. “And depending on your tolerance for pain, it can hurt, if you’d like. But we won’t go that far tonight. If anything makes your eyes sting, let me know and I’ll ease off.”
Leaning over her body, Max picked up the midnight candle.
Colleen’s stomach fluttered, and she swore she could feel the air he displaced brush across her sensitive skin. Screwing her eyes shut, she waited for the splash of wax. The shocking heat that she remembered from her wrist.
Max smoothed a palm up her spine, and she flinched, expecting something else. The bastard had the nerve to chuckle. She opened her eyes, ready to shoot a glare over her shoulder, when the first spatter of liquid heat struck her skin.
She sucked in a gasp. Her brain scrambled, trying to interpret the sensation, figure out if it was pain or merely shock she felt. By the time she made up her mind, that it had been only a low-grade sting, another dollop landed on her shoulder.
He ran his hand soothingly up and down her side. “Too much?”
She considered. Her skin was sensitive where the wax had landed, starting to tighten as the wax dried. Her pulse raced. Her fingers tingled with the urge to touch him. And she still thought she was mad to agree to this.
But she felt alive. Exciting. Nothing like a decorous woman of business.
She shook her head. “More.”
The mattress shifted. Something velvety and warm dragged against her upraised bottom, and her core clenched, knowing just which part of Max it was.
The warmth of his cock was replaced by the heat of the wax. Gasping, she arched her back, the wax degrees more intense on the sensitive skin of her bum.
Max swirled the liquid heat around with his finger. “The blue wax looks striking against your fair skin. But this red wax … I think this is my favorite.”
Red, blue, white …. “Are you painting the Union Flag on my back?” From her perspective, the color of the wax didn’t matter. Just the heat.
He chuckled. “Nothing that patriotic. Or organized. Only a pattern that pleases my eye.” He trailed a line of wax over her bottom and down her upper thigh. She was starting to grow accustomed to the strange sensation. Her body welcomed the drizzled wax, instead of flinching away. She was content to let Max paint her any which way he wanted.
Becoming someone’s canvas held its appeal. In that moment, she was wiped clean, a blank slate for Max to fashion as he wished.
Max crawled off the bed, quickly returning. He placed the bowl of water with the towel soaking in it by her shoulder. “That is there only as a safety precaution. I want you to relax, but tell me immediately if anything feels too intense.”
Colleen licked her lips. “Um, what is it exactly you’re going to be doing?” The wax had been an easy introduction. But the image of fire racing up her skin was something she couldn’t fathom. Her heart pounded painfully behind her ribs. “I … I don’t want to burn.”
“I’ll only be touching your skin fleetingly with the flame.” Max kneaded the base of her skull with one hand. “It will be like when you put out a candle with your fingers. You don’t burn yourself when you do that, right?”
No, not when the contact was that quick. She was venturing into unknown waters. This went far past her comfort level. But she trusted the baron. Ever since the fire, he’d been there for her. A helping hand. She knew he felt responsible for her, and no other landlord would ever be so good to a tenant. Max didn’t understand how little responsibility he bore for her situation. But he was a good man. And he would never hurt her.
Flame hissed to life behind her, and Colleen slid her eyes shut, trying to keep her breathing even. Every inch of her skin tingled in anticipation. And anxiety. This was the moment when she did the most impractical thing ever. Where she let herself become a different person, if only for a night. “You’re certain I won’t be burned?” Why was she allowing this again?
“Positive.” He kissed her shoulder. “But I only want to do this if you want it. Tell me to stop and I will.”
And never know what she might be missing? She gathered her courage. “No, I want this.” She swallowed and nodded. “All right. I’m ready.”
Max didn’t waste time. Something soft and warm touched her spine, growing hot before flickering away. She eased out a breath. That wasn’t so bad. Barely warmer than when she held her hands in front of the fire.
The next vertebrae down received the same treatment. A tingling kiss. Growing heat. Dancing away a moment before it became painful.
Her body grew restless. “What is that?” she asked.
“I’ve fashioned a small torch by wrapping one end of a taper with a brandy-soaked cloth which I then set alight.” He ran his hand down her head and flicked the tail of her braid against her neck.
“And you’re actually pressing the flame against my skin? And I’m not getting burned?” She licked her lips, a wave of dizziness swamping her mind. Things were moving so quickly, faster than she could sort out.
A man was laying flame to her body. And she was letting him. She was mad.
“Have you never played snapdragon?” He touched the flame of the torch to the crease of her bottom. The heat on her skin was transitory, but the heat that started further south built. “When you stick your hand in the flaming bowl to grab a raisin, you don’t get burned then, do you?”
That snapped her back from the edge of fear. “Unlike some, I don’t spend my time playing parlor games.” She sniffed. “Some of us have to work.” Cautiously, she wiggled her bum, inviting him to play with her more. She nervously waited for the next hiss of fire meeting skin. The faint odor of brandy teased her nose, and she swore she could hear the flames of the candles around her flicker.
“No need to get testy.” He tapped her bottom with the fire in quick succession, each flash of heat ratcheting up her desire, like a tightening spring turned a gear. She rubbed her thighs together, squeezing her ankles tight. The tip of his torch found the crease at her upper thigh, lingered a moment, the sensation transforming from a prickle to an itch she couldn’t scratch. She whimpered.
Placing a palm at the base of her spine, Max stilled her rocking hips. “The fire should tickle, perhaps turn into a sting, but not burn. Some people enjoy pain, but I don’t want to leave a mark on your body aside from a fleeting red patch.” He shifted the flame to her other upper thigh. “Does that burn?”
“Oh God.” Warmth flooded her body, but nowhere near matching the heat on her thigh. The tips of her breasts scraped against the embroidery in the bed’s coverlet as she writhed, driving her wild. She didn’t know what it was she felt. There was a pinch of pain, yes. But it came and went so quickly, leaving in its place a lethargic ache. Her body missed the fire as soon as it was removed. “More. Please,” she added, remembering that no matter what liberties she allowed with her body, the man was still her employer. And a baron. He expected the niceties.
She didn’t want to insult him.
Not if she wanted him to continue.
The gentleman he was, Max acceded to her demand. He set up a steady rhythm. Each tap of the torch was like a brush with a stinging nettle. And just when she thought she couldn’t take anymore, she couldn’t wait for him to start again. Anticipation warred with a sweet lethargy. How could something feel so intense and make her muscles sag into the mattress at the same time?
Max played her body like a drum, the rhythmic pattern making her mind drift. The stresses of the day, her worry over her flower shop, they all floated away. All that remained was the heat, a startling awareness of every inch of her body, and the man kneeling beside her, giving her pleasure.
“You said you needed this.” Colleen cleared her throat then raised her voice above its drowsy murmur. “That you had a bad day. What happened?”
The drumbeat paused. “Nothing you need to hear about.”
Well, Colleen couldn’t have that. She looked over her shoulder, saw that the torch was well away from her body, and rolled. She positioned the pillow under her head and lay back, fixing him with a stern look. The wax on her back pulled at her skin and she shifted, restless. “I’m not some naïve green girl. I thought we’d already established that. I don’t need you trying to protect my innocence. It’s too late for that.”
Max’s gaze travelled from her face down her body. Cupping one heavy breast, he teased the nipple with the velvety pad of his thumb. Her skin puckered beneath his touch. “I know you’ve seen a lot,” he said. “Too much. I don’t want to add anymore filth to your head. And I don’t want to think about it. I just want to burn it from my mind tonight.”
Bending low, he licked her nipple with the flat of his tongue, his beard scratching her breast. Slowly, he lowered the torch, hovering it over her skin.
She stared at the flame, transfixed, her breath trapped in her throat. Her body wanted to arch into the heat, to bring the burn to herself, but she waited. Waited for Max to make his move.
He lowered the torch, bringing the flame to her damp skin with a whisper-light kiss. Colleen heard a faint sizzle, felt her nipple ache with pleasure, before he lifted the torch and sucked the tingling tip of her breast into his mouth. He pulled, hard, and she felt the tug all the way down to her sex.
His wet mouth did nothing to cool her fever. Digging her fingers into his beard, she held his head in place. Each suckle brought a whimper to her lips. He rolled his tongue and bit the soft underside of her breast.
Max was right. The time for conversation was over.
She looked down his body, saw he was as ready as she was. Tentatively, she trailed her hand down his stomach, grazed his length with just the tips of her fingers. Soft heat. Like the torch. Only Max pulsed beneath her touch.
She licked her bottom lip. “Have you burned away enough bad memories for the night? There are other ways I can help you forget.” Running her middle finger down the path of one thick vein, she reached the base of his cock and changed direction, skimming his skin until she reached his crown.
His eyes burned hotter than the flames. “I’ve wanted to feel you come around my cock all damn day.” He dunked the torch into the bowl of water, and it hissed out of life. He tossed the bowl on the nightstand, half the water sloshing out onto the floor.
Colleen didn’t mind a spot of cleaning, not if it sped things along. But when Max lowered his large body to hers, she pressed a palm to his chest, stopping him. “Shouldn’t we turn down the lamp?” It was nearly bright as day in her room. When Max was playing with fire on her body, making sure his vision was unimpeded only seemed prudent. But relations were meant to happen under the cover of darkness, as God intended. They’d already violated the unwritten rule of leaving as many clothes on between the bodies as possible. At least the lights had to be dimmed.
He drew his eyebrows together. “Why would we do that? I wouldn’t be able to see you?”
“There’s nothing important to see. It’s the same body parts as every other woman.” A little rounder than the girls of the club. Softer. Max didn’t need to see that bouncing under him.
He smiled darkly and bracketed her hips with his knees, her head with his palms. He was like a large cat, pinning its prey, about to go in for the kill.
Her nipples tingled.
“Darling, before this night is over, I’m going to know every single inch of you. Taste every inch of you. And if I had the stamina, I would fuck every inch of you that I could.” He lowered, his cock nestling into the vee of her thighs. Slowly, deliberately, he shifted his hips up and back, running his length lightly over the bundle of nerves at her apex. “But that might take two nights.”
Gripping his forearms, she dented his skin with her nails. His smile widened. All right then. She’d already broken most of the rules of propriety. One more hardly mattered.
The touch at her clit was feather-light. Insubstantial. She tried to widen her legs, give him better access, but his knees blocked her. She whimpered in frustration.
“In fact …” Lowering his head, Max scored her neck with his teeth, tugging at the soft flesh until she thought she would lose her senses. “In fact, I want you to see everything. Want you to see every hard inch of me sink into your sweet quim.” Sliding one hand under her neck and one under her back, he rolled, pulling her body across his.
She planted her hands and knees around his body, finding her balance. Colleen blinked. The roles had reversed. She now had him pinned. Like a kitten might pin a bull mastiff. She knew he could throw her off with one finger, but the position of dominance still made her feel powerful.
With one palm on her bottom and the other wrapped around the thick base of his length, Max prodded her into position.
She swiveled her hips, felt him dip into her channel an inch, and backed off. Max dug his fingers into her skin and groaned. She smiled, pleased that she had the ability to torture him, too.
He looked up at her from heavy-lidded eyes. “I want you to watch as you slide onto me. Watch my cock tunnel into your body. Watch as our bodies become one.” Anchoring a hand at her hip, he spread open her lower lips with his thumb, and flicked her nub. Her body jerked. She was so wet, she was surprised she wasn’t dripping onto his length. She was more eager to feel every inch of him fill her, but if Max wanted her to watch, she could do that, too.
Guiding him to her opening, she widened her knees and eased him inside. She tried to go quickly, wanting him now, but after a couple of inches, her body pinched.
“Easy.” He gripped both her hips, slowing her descent. He circled her clit with his thumb, and her head fell back. She stared at the chipped paint on the ceiling. She tried to sit down farther, but Max held her hips steady.
“I want you watching, remember?” His voice was hoarse. She looked down. His gaze was fixed on the point where they connected. His pupils were so wide, his eyes looked black.
She followed his gaze. His cock was purpling with blood, the tip disappearing into her body. She saw him twitch, felt the corresponding quiver in her sheath.
The hollow of her back grew damp with sweat. Resting her palms on his chest, she leaned forward and kept her eyes focused where he demanded as she slid down another inch. Both of their breaths caught.
She could understand his fascination. Watching her plump lips swallow him down was entrancing. The soft hair at her entrance glinted red in the light, glistening with her desire. With one hand, she slid two fingers between her lips and scissored them open, exposing her inner folds.
Max cursed, loudly and inventively. She smiled. She’d heard worse on her trips to the docks with her husband, but she liked knowing she brought out the uncivilized side in this man.
Max moved her fingers to her clit, then wrapped both his hands around her bottom. “Touch yourself,” he commanded. “I want to watch you make yourself come.”
Her cheeks heated. She didn’t know if from embarrassment or lust. She didn’t care. Not thinking it possible, Colleen grew slicker. With Max pulling her inexorably down, inc
h by inch she enveloped him. Whether from the position or because of Max, but she’d never felt so full. The pressure grew until she was sure she couldn’t hold anymore. Max had reached her limit. With a grunt, he thrust his hips up and jerked her down, taking those last two inches and stealing the air from her lungs.
She dug half-moons into his shoulders. She’d been wrong. Now he’d reached her limit. She hoped. She was so filled, all her nerve endings sparking, that she knew there could be no more.
Until he rolled his hips. It was like a thousand tiny lightning bolts shooting through her cunny at once, followed by a thousand tongues easing the sting. Colleen couldn’t stop the small moan that escaped from her lips. Then she knew. Max hadn’t even come close to reaching her limit. This pleasure was only the beginning.
***
Max told his fingers to ease their grip, but they wouldn’t listen. He knew he must be leaving bruises on her plump little arse, ten round marks that spoke of his need. Her body was already splashed with color from his wax. She didn’t need any more. But his body didn’t want to listen to reason.
Digging into her softness, he pulled her close again, matching the thrust of their hips, feeling the pleasure that slid over his cock flow through the rest of his body.
Colleen’s sex was the slickest, softest bit of heaven that he could ever remember fucking.
She raised up an inch, and his hands slammed her back down where she belonged. A long, slow glide of her sheath over his entire length, from root to tip, would feel fucking amazing. But her wet heat surrounding him, squeezing him, was about as much as he could take. More than he deserved.
Colleen clenched her internal muscles and ground her pelvis into his, biting into her lush lower lip. Max just about lost his ever-loving mind.
Who knew buttoned-up women of business could fuck like this?
He needed to see just how far she’d let herself go. “Slide your hands up your stomach and cup those pretty breasts.”
