by Kery, Beth
As if he knew precisely the reaction he was giving her, he stepped closer to her face and pressed his thighs against the bed. She turned her cheek against the edge of the mattress and opened her lips. He leaned closer and delved his fingers into her hair. She no longer needed him to direct her to meet his need. Not in this, she didn’t.
She strained her head, bathing his warm, rigid length with her tongue. He tightened his hold in her hair and she took the fleshy, firm crown into her mouth, her lips stretching around it, squeezing him. She gave the slit a firm polish with her tongue, making his fingers tighten in her hair, before she slid the shaft into her mouth and sucked.
“Jesus, that’s good,” she heard him say roughly from above her as he pulsed his cock in and out of her mouth. “You always seem so hungry for it . . . as hungry for me as I am for you.”
Her increased fervor was an assurance that what he said was true. After a moment, she closed her eyes and let him have control, trusting in him completely. Her attention narrowed to a concentrated channel, every sense pinpointed on him—his familiar, delicious taste and scent, the arousing texture of his cock, how his flesh became even more rigid and swollen with every thrust and draw of her clamping mouth. She loved the way his fist tightened in her hair, his unspoken demands not harsh, necessarily, but as always, unapologetically firm. Ian relished in pleasure, and she’d come to adore giving it to him without reservation.
The cream had gone into full action on her clit, making nerves sizzle and burn. The pressure of the plug in her ass added a primal, dark edge to her arousal. She was bound and couldn’t relieve the swelling ache in her, and that made her pleasuring of Ian more desperate and wild. He’d become a part of her in the past months, his pleasure her own.
Her excitement mounted as his thrusts into her mouth came faster and his cock swelled. She strove to take him deeper and succeeded, her reward his rough, slightly stunned groan of pleasure.
“No,” she protested, her voice roughened from his cock when he swung back his hips and his cock slid out of her mouth with a wet sucking sound. His cock was like a drug; his pleasure addictive to her. He loosened his grip on her hair, his fingertips lightly massaging her scalp before he backed away.
“Yes,” he said simply, and she didn’t argue. She wasn’t surprised. He occasionally spent himself quickly, taking her in a greedy rush that she loved because it betrayed the depths of the desire of a man whose self-control was legend. Typically, however, he drew things out, drowning her in pleasure and excitement, making their need mount to unbearable levels, building the fire so that when climax came, it was explosive. This evening, she sensed his need to hold on to her for as long as he could, to mingle their essences and prolong the sharp intimacy.
She swallowed thickly when she saw him pick up a red rubber vibrator from the bed. It was new, one he’d never used on her before. The rubber was shaped into an oval loop at the tip, its circumference about the size of a penny. She saw his thumb move, and the tool began to vibrate almost silently. He held her stare as he pressed the rigid, pulsing ring against her mouth, both soothing and exciting the sensitive flesh. Her lips felt feverish and swollen from his earlier strident thrusting between them. She willingly opened them as he moved the vibrator, his actions striking her as more intimate and arousing than she would have expected. She moaned softly as he pressed the vibrator deeper, sliding it against the moist flesh just inside her mouth. Her vagina tightened as she stared up at him in helpless arousal and granted him full, undeniable right over her body.
“So beautiful,” he murmured, and she knew he’d seen her submission as clearly as he’d seen her face. “I could look at you forever when you’re giving yourself to me.”
He removed the vibrator from her damp lips and caressed her cheek tenderly. She turned her face into his palm and kissed the center of it. He made a rough sound in his throat and removed his hand. He once again pushed one of her knees toward the other one, exposing her naked breast, using the wand of the vibrator to stimulate the curving flesh. She bit her lip, trapping her soft cry when he inserted a taut nipple into the vibrating loop and pressed softly.
“Feel good?” he murmured, his gaze returning to her face.
“Yes,” she whispered.
And it did. Her nipple was surrounded by the pulsing loop. The mysterious pathway of nerves connecting her nipples to her clit flared to life. She twisted her head on the mattress and moaned, her need growing sharp and untenable.
“Shhh,” Ian soothed gently.
She cried out when he parted her labia matter-of-factly and encircled her clit with the vibrating loop. Her cry segued to a groan of ecstatic misery when he turned up the power on the vibrator. She closed her eyes and shuddered at the intense, concise stimulation, her hips twisting on the bed. He placed his hands on the coil of rope at her calf and kept her in place. She had no choice but to accept the distilled pleasure full on.
“Come,” Ian said a moment later.
She followed his command to the letter, her bound body shaking in the onslaught of release. After the first, most powerful waves of climax had passed, he removed the vibrator. Her head came off the bed and she bit off a scream when he pressed his cock to her pussy, grabbed her thighs and impaled her with one stroke.
“Oh God . . . Ian,” she gasped as she continued to climax around his penis. The sudden intrusion overwhelmed her. It primarily felt wonderful, but it also hurt a little, overfilled as she suddenly was with Ian’s large cock in her pussy and the plug in her ass.
“That’s right,” he rasped as he began to thrust, his handsome face rigid with restrained pleasure. “That’s what I wanted to feel. So hot. So wet,” he grated out as he fucked her, and her vagina clamped around him as she continued to come.
“No,” she muttered desperately a minute later when he again withdrew from her. She lifted her head, staring at the erotic sight of his heavy, glistening cock poking out from his opened fly and lowered briefs. He often didn’t remove his pants completely as he played with her while she was bound. It drove her wild with thwarted longing. It drove her a step away from madness to watch, bound and helpless, as he ran his large hand over his moist, rigid shaft. Her vagina and ass muscles clenched tight. He gave a harsh moan.
She realized he stared fixedly between her parted thighs at her spread pussy and the inserted plug. Her cheeks heated. She experienced an overwhelming desire to cover herself. She’d never felt so exposed to him as she was at that moment. Was she foolish for opening herself to another human being so wholly . . . for allowing herself to become so vulnerable?
His facial muscles convulsed slightly as he stared, the expression somehow speaking of longing so intense, it bordered on pain for him. All of her doubts about her vulnerability faded to mist. In many ways, Ian laid himself as bare during their lovemaking as she did for him.
“Ian,” she murmured. He looked up, meeting her stare, and she knew her heart was in her eyes.
“You shouldn’t look at me like that. You know what it does to me.”
“I’m sorry,” she replied.
“No you’re not,” he said grimly, moving toward her head and unbuttoning his shirt fleetly as he did so. He whipped the shirt over his shoulders. Her stare lowered covetously over bulging, lean muscle. She’d learned over the past several months that when she was bound, her eyes had to take the place of her greedy fingers, making her a keener observer. Since Ian also blindfolded her at times, her nerves, too, had become exquisitely sensitive to his every move and touch. “And I’m not, either, to be honest,” he continued. “If I could bottle that look in your eyes, I would.”
She was in such a powerful, strangely combined state of both satiation and sustained arousal, it took her a moment to notice his rigid, and yet somehow hesitant expression as he stroked her neck, the sides of her breasts and ribs, making her quiver with pleasure.
“What is it?” she asked quie
tly, puzzled by his mood.
He didn’t speak for a moment, just continued to caress her with his large, warm hand.
“I would like to video you while we continue. Just your face,” he added quickly when she didn’t immediately speak.
“Why?” she asked, even though she thought she knew the answer.
His expression grew unreadable, but she sensed his turmoil nonetheless. “Like I said, I would bottle your sweetness if I could,” he admitted. “Carry you with me everywhere.”
Her heart seemed to swell two sizes in her breast. He’d known so much pain in his life . . . been so fearful of abrupt rejection, been primed for unexpected fearful, and even violent, reactions from a schizophrenic mother.
“All that I am is always here for you, Ian,” she said softly. “But of course you can video me, if you think it will help . . . somehow.”
His averted gaze zoomed to her face. “You’re sure? Of course you know it will only be for me. I will guard it assiduously.”
She smiled. “I know that. Do you think I’d allow it otherwise?”
His nostrils flared slightly as he studied her. “You think it’s an odd request, don’t you?”
“No. I don’t share your need, but I understand it, Ian. I do,” she added pointedly.
He leaned down and kissed the diamonds on her bound hand—the engagement ring he’d given her weeks ago.
“Thank you,” he said.
His solemn manner made her eyes moisten. She was glad when he moved away. When he returned to her field of vision, he carried a small video camera. He set it on the bureau and quickly focused it, the lens aimed toward her head.
“It’s trained on your face,” he said as he approached her again a moment later. She noticed that far from diminishing during the brief absence from her, his erection appeared every bit as firm, heavy, and flagrant. Her love and trust in him made her glory in the evidence that it aroused him to tape her during sex. It was merely another level of intimacy for them to explore. She wasn’t put off by his request.
“You know I love seeing you give yourself to me,” he said, stroking her hips and then her lower belly, his long fingers inching toward her mons and spread pussy. “This way, I will have the vision always available to me.”
“Wouldn’t you rather have me in person?” she asked, her cheeks flushing as he teased her, his long, talented fingers tickling skin just inches away from where she burned. She whimpered when he caressed her humid inner thighs.
“I would prefer to have you in person a million times over,” he assured, his mouth twitching into a small smile. “What sane man wouldn’t want this . . .” he paused, plunging a thick, long finger into her slit, making her inhale sharply. “Exquisite flesh?” he finished.
She was so aroused, she could hear him as he moved in her wet pussy, finger-fucking her. He withdrew and immediately transferred his lubricated finger to her clit, rubbing her so accurately her eyes rolled back in her head and she clamped her lids shut. His innate talent in combination with the clitoral stimulant was almost unbearably potent and precise.
“No, lovely. Open your eyes. Look at me.”
She strove to do what he demanded, focusing on his much-loved face. He continued to stimulate her clit bull’s-eye fashion. Her lips trembled. He was going to bring her off again very, very soon.
“What do you enjoy better?” he asked unsmilingly. “A vibrator or my hand?”
“Your hand,” she said without hesitation, pressing her hips against the divine pressure. “Always your hand. Your touch,” she added shakily.
“The video will be the same for me. I allow you to use a vibrator in my absence, don’t I?”
“Yes,” she mouthed, too overwhelmed with growing arousal to speak audibly.
“But you would rather have me?” he asked, and despite his typical palpable confidence, she heard the thread of uncertainty in his voice . . . of naked need.
“A million times over,” she repeated his words brokenly, looking into his scoring blue eyes. Emotion overcame her. She clamped her eyes shut, a tear shooting down her cheek, and came against his hand.
She returned from the realms of bliss at the sensation of the plug sliding out of her ass. He was almost immediately there—a fuller, throbbing replacement. He held her stare as he slowly entered her, his eyes a brilliant contrast to his rigid features. The raw intensity of the moment overwhelmed her. There wasn’t a spot in her body or soul she wouldn’t willingly give him.
“Don’t look away,” he said harshly when he pressed his testicles against her buttocks and she gasped for air that didn’t seem to adequately expand her lungs. He must have sensed how powerful the moment was for her. He spread his hands on her hips and began to fuck her, his pelvis slapping rhythmically against her ass. “Don’t ever look away, Francesca.”
He sounded almost angry, but she knew he wasn’t. It was the intensity of the moment that strained his voice. She merely shook her head, too inundated by the sensation of his cock plunging in and out of such an intimate place, too saturated with love and desire to do anything but surrender. The clitoral cream in combination with Ian’s primal possession made her burn yet again. Even the soles of her feet heated and prickled. He spread his hand over her lower belly, continuing to thrust his cock in and out of her. She cried out sharply, her back arching slightly off the bed, when he slid his thumb between her labia and rubbed her clit.
“Oh no,” she gasped, hardly aware of what she was saying.
“Yes,” he corrected between clenched teeth. “Open your eyes.”
She did as he demanded, not realizing she’d closed them as ecstasy mounted. The sounds of their bodies smacking together faster and faster seemed to match the pounding of her heart in her ears. His thumb moved, creating a delicious friction. She was about to ignite like the tip of a struck match. She focused on him with effort, biting off a moan. Sweat sheened his face, chest, and ridged abdomen.
“Tell me you love me,” he rasped.
“I love you so much.”
“Always.”
“Yes. Always,” she said, her lips trembling as she crested. She felt him swell inside her, the slight pain of discomfort only fueling her desire, providing the edge she needed to come. Her sharp cry was silenced by Ian’s roar of release.
A moment later, he fell between her bound legs, holding himself off her with his arms braced on the mattress, both of them still quaking and panting in the aftermath of the sheering storm of climax. A drop of sweat fell in her eyes. It burned, but she didn’t blink; the image of him was too beautiful.
“I’ll call Lucien and Elise and cancel for tonight,” Ian said, his gaze running over her face.
“It’ll be too late. They’ll already be on their way. Besides, you could use an evening with friends. You always seem to relax and enjoy yourself around Lucien. He has a good effect on you.”
His mouth twitched. “I enjoy myself much more around you. And you wouldn’t believe how relaxed I am at the moment.”
“You know what I mean. You’ve been under so much stress lately, with your mother being ill.” Her grin faded. After a moment of studying him, she reconsidered. “Do you really want to cancel?”
He straightened and slowly withdrew from her, grimacing as he did so. “Yes,” he answered honestly as he began to unbind her arms and legs. “I’d rather spend the night with you right here,” he said after a moment. He shot her a darkly amused glance as he whipped the rope from around her limbs, releasing her restraints with as much methodical precision as he’d made them. “But I suppose I shouldn’t be so selfish. A couple hours spent with friends isn’t going to make a big difference in the scheme of things. I’ll be back in bed with you soon enough, right?”
“Absolutely.”
An inexplicable chill passed over her heated flesh like an invisible shadow, and was gone in an instant. She sigh
ed with relief as she straightened her freed legs and stretched like a content cat.
She hardly thought about her automatic, certain reply until later. Naturally she and Ian would be here together later.
They would be in each other’s arms, where they belonged.
Chapter One
SIX MONTHS LATER
“Nothing is certain, is it? Nothing,” Francesca said bleakly as she set down the investment and finance section of the morning paper, the headlines exclaiming over the faltering Japanese economy. Her gaze lingered on one headline: Japanese Conglomerate Hires Investment Banking Firm to Sell. She bit her lip nervously, jumping slightly when her housemate, Davie Feinstein, touched her shoulder.
“Some things are certain,” Davie said with a significant look she endeavored to ignore. She accepted the steaming cup of tea he offered her and gave him a smile as he sat. He started doling steaming pancakes onto their plates.
“Like taxes and your weekend breakfasts. Like your friendship?” Francesca asked, forcing her voice into an airy tone because they were skimming a sensitive topic, and she refused to go there on this bright December morning. The sensitive topic: Ian’s abandonment of her a half a year ago following his mother’s death. But not just his mother’s unexpected death, also the discovery of the poison truth about his biological father . . . a truth that had been revealed by Lucien Lenault after Francesca and Ian had made love so intimately that summer evening. One moment, their future had been secure and bright. All of that changed in a matter of seconds by the slashing knives of truth.
And doubt.
She knew Ian had been fearful his entire life that his unknown father had at the very least taken advantage of his mentally ill mother, at worst, raped her. The identity of his biological father had remained a mystery to him, however, until that evening six months ago. That fateful night when Lucien and Elise had come to dinner, Lucien had known he’d been providing a shock by telling Ian they were half brothers, but that wasn’t the worst of it. He’d also revealed that their common parent, Trevor Gaines, had been a rapist and serial reproductionist—a man who got a sick fascination from impregnating as many women as he could. The impact of that revelation, along with his mother’s sudden worsening condition and death, had had a decimating effect on Ian.
