by Lora Leigh
“I’m not a teenager, Ella.” He watched her carefully, aware that her blue eyes were a shade darker than normal, the pupils slightly dilated. He wondered if her pussy was wet, or if she had mastered control over even that part of her body.
“I’m aware of your age,” she said coldly. “I’ll leave you to get settled in. If you need anything, the house is laid out simply, and everything is easy to find. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Ella?” He stopped her as she turned for the door.
He caught the ready, tense set of her body, as though she were preparing herself for a battle. She turned back to him, her expression carefully closed, cool.
“Yes, James?” She kept her voice well-modulated, soft yet not simpering.
“Am I allowed to come out of my room if I’m a very good boy?” James kept his voice low, teasing. There was no way in hell he was going to get close to her if she didn’t loosen up a little.
She was wary, almost frightened of him, and she almost succeeded in hiding it. Almost. He knew her better than she knew herself in some ways. She stiffened further, her perfectly arched brows snapping into a frown.
“I’m not in the mood for your games.” Her voice was non-confrontational, but the flush along her cheekbones warned him of the coming storm. Damn, he loved pissing her off. Watching her eyes glitter with ire, her pale cheeks flushing so prettily. It gave him a glimpse of what she would look like in passion.
He tilted his head curiously. “Shame. Tess assured me you would welcome my company. I’m feeling as though I’m putting you out, Ella. Perhaps I should stay in a hotel until the house is ready.”
For a moment—a very brief, infuriating moment—satisfaction glittered in her eyes, until she remembered Tess and her promise to make James comfortable. Her lips thinned as she drew in a deep, careful breath. The smile that she pasted on her face had little to do with warmth; it damned near caused frostbite.
“You’re perfectly welcome, James. Tess’s little friends are always welcome in my home, you know that.”
Ouch.
Little friends? He chuckled silently.
She was finding every opportunity to remind him that he was several years younger than she was. The six years made little difference to him. As a matter of fact, it seemed perfect. An older man would never keep up with the passions he knew ran beneath that cool exterior.
He allowed a smile to curve his lips as he stared at her intently. “Little friends? I’m hardly that young, Ella.”
“Not far from it,” she grumbled. “I have work to do, James. Make yourself at home, and perhaps I’ll talk to you later.”
But not if she could help it.
“What type of work?” He stopped her again. “I was unaware you worked. Jase should have given you a very healthy settlement from the divorce.”
By God, if he hadn’t, James would be talking to him about it.
“That’s none of your business.” She frowned again. “What I do, James, I do for my own pleasure, and how Jase decided to pay me for the divorce is none of your concern.”
Pay her for the divorce? James was damned well aware that she was much less than happy in that marriage, yet she sounded bitter, rejected. Had she cared more for Jase than he had once thought? That idea didn’t set well in his mind, or in his heart.
“Ella, you weren’t happy, and neither was Jase,” he said softly.
“I refuse to discuss this with you.” She straightened her shoulders majestically, her lips thinning as her anger grew. “I don’t mind your presence here, James, but I don’t have time to entertain you. You’ll have to find your amusements elsewhere.”
“But you said no women,” he reminded her.
She stopped again as she turned to leave.
“No women.” She shook her head tightly, her voice strained. “Not in my home, James. Never again in my home.”
CHAPTER THREE
“You know, you need a housekeeper or a cook.” James’s voice early the next afternoon had her jumping in startled awareness as she finished filling the coffeepot. She turned, facing him, thinking what a shame it was that one man would have such sexual presence.
He stood propped against the doorway, dressed in dark blue silk slacks and a lighter blue silk shirt. His jacket was held at his shoulder by the crook of his finger, and his green eyes regarded her with lustful secrets.
“I’m perfectly capable of cooking my own meals and cleaning my home.” She had been raised to do for herself, and cleaning gave her something to do, a way to occupy her hands when her body was filled with restless energy.
He straightened from the doorframe, walking to the table with a casual male grace that threatened to take her breath. She turned quickly from him, moving to the cabinet to retrieve her coffee cup. She fought to still her shaking hands, the nervousness in her stomach that wouldn’t go away. She felt immature, like a quaking child before him. It was … unbalancing.
“What if you became busy? Or found a lover?”
Ella fought back her panic. She felt aged, past the time when she could have worried about the future, or a man in her life.
“I’m not looking for a lover, James.” She poured her coffee, moving with what she hoped was casual unconcern to the work isle in the center of the room.
She leaned her hip against it, lowering her head as she concentrated on stirring cream and sugar into the dark liquid. She was aware that he was watching her, his eyes dark, intent. She was well aware of his desire for her; a desire she knew wouldn’t last beyond the moment. She had no illusions about herself. She was growing older, and her body was slowly showing the signs of it. It wasn’t something she worried much about, until she was faced with James. He made her feel young, made her feel desired, and it was dangerous to allow herself to be convinced that it could go further. Too dangerous for her heart.
She watched as he laid the jacket over the back of a chair then moved to the cabinet and snagged a cup for himself. His arm reached up, muscles bunching in his shoulders and back. She shivered, her hands itching to touch him, to feel the strength of motion beneath his flesh.
He turned back to her, leaning against the counter as he regarded her quizzically. “Do you have a lover?”
His voice was whisky-rough and dark. It caused arousal to zip along her nerve endings, her skin to become sensitive, needy for his touch. She hated it.
“That’s really none of your business.” She fought to stay in control. He would leave soon; she knew Jase depended on him at the corporate offices. Not that she understood any of the legal talk she had ever heard in the past, but his job, she knew, was complicated and often required late nights and full days. She was hoping that would keep him out of her hair for the most part.
“Maybe I want to make it my business.” His voice hardened imperceptibly as he watched her, his gaze brooding.
Ella couldn’t stop the surprise that she knew was reflected on her face. She blinked over at him, her chest tightening in unwanted excitement, her vagina throbbing in unwanted preparation for his touch.
“Why would you want to?” She couldn’t understand his desire for her in any way. “I’m not in the market for complications, James. A lover is, by his very nature, a complication.”
He tilted his head, his lips quirking in amusement as she raised the coffee cup to her lips.
“Don’t you ever get horny, Ella?” She nearly dropped the cup. The coffee she had just taken into her mouth threatened to choke her as it went down the wrong way.
She wheezed, her eyes widening, tearing as she stared at him in shock.
“For God’s sake,” she bit out when she could breathe again. “Is that any of your business, in any way, James?”
“Actually, it is.” He shrugged his shoulders with deceptive laziness. “I want you, Ella. I want to lay you down and touch you in all the ways a man can. I want to fuck you until you’re screaming, because it feels so damned good it hurts. So yeah.” He nodded. “It’s my business.”
&n
bsp; The breath lodged in her throat. She felt her pussy cream, her thighs tremble at the thought of him powering into her, fucking her as she screamed. She had never screamed, never wanted anything desperately enough to beg. But she couldn’t have James.
Anger, directed at herself, at him, poured through her.
She felt her face flush, her body tremble, as she fought for control.
“Sorry, James.” She smiled tightly. “I’m really not in the market for a boy toy this year. I guess you’re just out of luck there.”
She didn’t give him time to reply. Before he could cut her down, before he could tempt her further, she swept from the room, rushing to the safety of her bedroom where her control wasn’t as important. Where it wouldn’t matter if the tears that filled her eyes escaped. All that mattered was that James didn’t know.
CHAPTER FOUR
She wouldn’t survive this. Ella escaped to her bedroom, locked the door clumsily behind her and stood against it, breathing raggedly. She was flushed, heated, her body tingling. She hated it.
Her fists clenched as she felt her vagina spasm, growing wetter by the second as she remembered the sound of his dark, velvet voice. The deep baritone stroked over her senses, then plunged heatedly into her womb. How was she supposed to maintain her control this way? She despised the person she had been while married to Jase. She had acted like a harpy, her fury and fears driving her to rages that had terrified her.
For years. Years she had fought him and what he wanted from her. Because she had known how much he wanted from her. The sexual excesses he enjoyed. She pressed her fists to her stomach, fighting the driving, insidious images that pounded at her brain. She could have tolerated it, she told herself. She could have allowed herself to let go if she hadn’t known the man who would eventually arrive.
Jase was nothing if not honest. He had never lied to her when his sexuality had begun emerging. They had been in their early twenties, and his need to dominate, to control her sexual responses, had at first seemed merely harmless play. He hated her controlled sexuality. Her fear of letting go, of giving him the responsibility of pleasing her.
Ella had hated his need for it. She had married him because she was pregnant. She had cared for him, had felt a warmth and gentle desire for him, but what he needed she had never wanted. Until she met James. Until she saw in his wicked, knowing eyes, the truth about herself.
God, he had been twenty-six, and she was already in her thirties. She had felt like a cradle robber, looking at him, feeling her pussy gush with moisture, her breasts swelling in desire. And then, she had begun to fantasize. When Jase took her, his cock burrowing into her as he held her to the bed, she imagined it was James.
When he tied her to the bed, her nipples would bead instantly as she thought of James tying her down, thought of James tormenting her body, driving her ragged with need. And when Jase had suggested a ménage, she had thought of James, yet still pretended her husband wasn’t truly serious.
Until the day James had walked into the room Jase had set up for his play. She had been tied to the narrow bed, her legs gaping, as Jase grew more and more frustrated over her lack of response. James had walked in, his brilliant eyes going to her smooth, bare pussy and she had creamed instantly. She had fought Jase, vowing to never allow him to touch her again. The screaming match that ensued lasted for years. Until the divorce.
She couldn’t stand it. For years she had pushed her own needs back, fought to forget James and the terrible desires that raged through her system. Until she walked in and saw Tess with Jesse, James’s twin brother. Betrayal had sliced through her soul. And Jesse, damn his black heart, had known. She had seen it in his eyes, in the sardonic lift of his mouth.
Her hand raised to one throbbing breast as the ache in her nipples seemed only to grow. Her fingers glanced over the hard point beneath the silk blouse and sheer bra she wore. Her breath caught on a gasp at the electrified pleasure that washed over her.
She felt her pussy cream furiously, spilling the thick essence along her bare foldss. Jase had started her habit of shaving there. It was one of the few things he had taught her that she was thankful for. Until now. Now, the incredible sensitivity of her bare inner lips was a curse. She could feel her juices, hot and slick, coating her flesh as they eased from her vagina, and it only made her ache more.
How was she going to bear having him in her house? Her arms wrapped around her waist as her womb clenched. He hadn’t been here an hour yet and already she could think of nothing but his touch moving over her, his hands stroking her, spanking her … She whimpered. She didn’t want that, she cried silently, couldn’t bear it.
“Ella, you in there? I’m ordering lunch, how do you feel about pizza?” He knocked on her door, startling her into jumping away from it with a tight gasp.
God, wasn’t he ever going to leave for work? Surely he wouldn’t be here for lunch. She couldn’t handle it.
“Fine.” She was horrified at the husky, needy quality of her voice. She cleared her throat and swallowed tightly. “I’m tired. You eat. I’m going to lie down.”
“Ella, come out and talk to me,” he cajoled, his voice soft, filled with such wicked promises she had to bite her lip to keep from calling him to her. “It’s just pizza, nothing else.” Amusement was like a dark vein of sin in his tone.
She glanced at the clock, then the bedside window. She could find no reasonable excuse to stay hidden in her room, and she knew if she continued to refuse it would only make him suspicious.
“Fine,” she bit out, feeling her nails piercing the skin of her palms. “I’ll be out in a while. I need to freshen up first.”
“I’ll be waiting on you. Don’t take too long.”
As he spoke, Ella tore desperately at her clothes to remove them. She was too hot, too aroused, to go to him like this. If she didn’t find relief, no matter how minute, she would burn in flames of desire if he so much as brushed against her.
She jerked the drawer of her bedside table open and pulled out the slender, slim line vibrator she had purchased years ago. The soft, supple latex flexed in her palm as she stretched out on her bed. It wasn’t thick or long, but buying the damned thing had been one of the hardest things she had ever done in her life.
Her body was already primed, her cunt so wet and sticky that when she ran her fingers through the narrow slit, it clung to her fingers. Her clit was swollen, so large and sensitive she gasped as she circled it with the head of the slender dildo. She eased the control switch on the vibration up, shuddering as the device began to hum.
She couldn’t still her gasp of breath as she slid it into the hungry opening of her pussy. Her muscles closed on it, relishing in the hum, but still greedy for more. She pushed it deeper, feeling the sensitive tissue part for the invader.
Ella writhed on the bed, her eyes clenched tightly closed as the fingers of her other hand gripped one of her tight, elongated nipples and pinched lightly.
She couldn’t groan, she told herself. She couldn’t cry out his name as she had done since seeing him at the wedding and agreeing to let him stay. She couldn’t pretend it was James pushing inside her wet pussy, fucking her tight depths. But she couldn’t help it either. Her mind formed the image. His body hard and muscular, his cock thick and long as it pushed inside her.
Her control weakened as a small whimper escaped her throat. It wasn’t going to be enough. Oh God, she could feel it, the weakness of her body, the incredible arousal searing her nerve endings. She would never achieve a climax hard enough to still the raging pain.
“Let me help you, Ella.” The words were like a splash of cold water.
Her eyes flew open to see James, fully dressed, his green eyes glowing with lust as he stared down at her nude, perspiring body. From her breasts to her still slender thighs, spread invitingly as she moved the vibrating dildo inside her pussy.
“Oh God.” Embarrassment washed over her as she realized he really was standing there, watching her. He was real this t
ime, not a figment of her imagination.
She would have jumped from the bed if James hadn’t moved to stop her, pinning her shoulders to the mattress as he forced her legs closed, holding the vibrator inside her pussy as he stared down at her, his powerful legs clamped on the outside of hers as she stared up at him in horror.
His eyes were dark, wicked, his expression filled with sensuality, with lust. Her legs were clamped together as his fingers moved to the control box at her side and he thumbed the power up to its highest level.
Her body jerked in response as the heat flared higher, hotter inside her tormented depths.
“Who do you imagine inside you, Ella?” His voice was deep, rough. “Who’s fucking that tight pussy for you, in your mind?”
The deep baritone of his voice stroked over her nerve endings, sending her senses into overdrive. Her hips jerked in reflex, her clit pulsing, throbbing in reaction.
“Don’t do this,” she cried out, fighting the pleasure as he forced her wrists into one broad hand, holding her securely as he stared into her eyes.
“Is it me, Ella?” he asked her softly. “Do I fuck you in your fantasies? I sure as hell fuck you in mine. Hard and deep. But my cock is a hell of a lot thicker than that baby pecker you picked. When I push inside you, you’re going to be so damned tight you’ll come from the pleasure/pain alone. Come for me now, Ella. Come for me baby, so we can discuss this rationally.”
Ella couldn’t bear it. His voice was enough to make her juices flood her pussy, making the vibration echo along her sensitized flesh.
“I can’t.” She fought to hold onto her control. She couldn’t do this. It was too horrifying, too humiliating. Dear God, how had he opened a locked door?
He leaned closer, his legs loosening from around hers, his hand moving between their bodies as he watched her. She twisted against him as he forced his hand between her slick thighs and gripped the end of the dildo.
“I’m going to fuck you, Ella.” He pulled it back as she cried out, staring up at him, seeing his grimace of hot, desperate lust. “Like this.” The vibrator was thrust into her pussy, squishing through the thick juices, pounding into her womb as he began to fuck her hard and fast with her own toy.
