Double Dare

by Saskia Walker

  He shut the door behind her and rubbed the towel against his head as he looked down at her combat gear. She watched the line of his triceps as he reached up to bend his arm back. He flung the towel over a chair and put his hand on her bare arm. His skin was still cool from the shower, hers was burning hot.

  "I'm glad you're here," he said and reached down to touch her mouth lightly with his.

  She wanted to respond fiercely, to climb all over him, but he brushed gently on her lips then released her arm with a gentle stroke. "You smell good, like the sea," he said, breathing against her skin. It made her feel weak.

  "Would you like a drink?" His gaze roved over her body while he waited for the answer.

  Her hand went to his wet hair and as she touched it a few drops of water ran down her arm. The erotic charge of it hung heavy between them, like the humid air of the night. Eventually, she nodded.

  He picked up a shirt that looked as if he had dropped it as he went to answer the door and stopped to put it on.

  "No," she said, following him, her hand reaching for the bare skin of his chest. "Don't cover up." She drew the material slowly back down his arms, her hands taking the opportunity to touch his shoulders as they passed. She seemed to move in slow motion, brushing the material where her hands wanted to go on his arms.

  He took the shirt from her and put it back down.

  She stroked her hand across his shoulders and down to trace the line of his lean torso. Then it wandered up to circle his arm around the tattoo.

  He captured her wrist with his hand and her gaze with his eyes. "Abby...your drink awaits." He strode off and she followed a few paces behind. She found herself in a small kitchen with a tall, thin, glass door that opened onto a tiny balcony. It had a Mediterranean feel about it. She walked over to the window, it was open, and it overlooked the river.

  He moved behind her and she felt the cold slide of glass on her bare arm as he joined her with two glasses of champagne. She gasped then laughed. She was thinking of the day before. How much better it would have been if it had been Zac with Champagne, instead of Tom with Bucksfizz.

  They stood in the doorway, drank from their glasses and from each other's eyes.

  "It's an excellent view of the river," she said, not looking at it but at him. He nodded. The air was so charged she almost felt rays of light crashing from her body to break up the humid air around them.

  "Come inside. I want to see what you look like sitting in one of my Mackintosh chairs." He slipped his arm around her waist and led her back. His hand lay on her hip. It felt right, it felt good, and it belonged.

  "Your throne...Witch Queen." He drew the chair out for her.

  She sat down on the beautiful piece of furniture. She leaned back against the dramatic headrest, the lines of the upward struts cool against her back.

  Zac stood and looked at her. "Very suitable," he said with a dark smile.

  She could see the desire in his eyes. Could he see it in hers? She suspected it was even more obvious than his. She crossed her legs and he watched. He glanced up. "The bottle," he said and wandered off to the kitchen again.

  She looked around the room. He'd put some of the books onto the shelves and that made her smile. She stood up and wandered over, drawn to the library full of keys to his mind, to his soul. Her fingers ran over the spines of the books, almost as though she could take all their knowledge from them with her touch. She saw titles she recognized, books that stood as well read and creased on her own shelves. Others were mysterious and unknown to her. She touched them with a curious finger. Would she ever truly know him?

  She heard him come in behind her, then the sound of the bottle being put down. He closed on her, and she felt the touch of his bare chest against the back of her shoulders. She stirred back against him, her eyes closing.

  His hands slipped around her hipbones, the thrusting line of his body pressed against her back. "You don't want to read now, do you?" His mouth was close to her ear.

  She smiled and moved her hand to the shelf. "Well..." She felt his mouth on her bare shoulder. She slipped a book out and he took it from her. She glanced down at the cover. It was an Eastern love text.

  She looked back at him. "I thought I might learn some of your secrets," she said, suggestively.

  He smiled and put the book down. "I don't want you to learn all my secrets too quickly." He eased her away from the shelves. "Your champagne will be getting warm." Then he walked over to sit in the chair she had abandoned. It was a subtle invitation to follow.

  She felt as if they were two jungle creatures stalking each other in the moonlit heat of the tropics. She stood for a moment then followed his path, pausing only when her legs touched against his knees. He handed her the glass she had left behind and pulled her gently onto his lap.

  Her free hand went to his shoulder, steadying herself, then glanced down at his tattoo. She followed the pattern with her fingers. "What does it mean...to you?"

  He laughed quietly, his head dropping back, his hands drawing her closer on his hips as he leaned back. "I had it done when I was a troubled teenager," he replied. "It expressed the way I felt at the time. Part Greek, part English, my mixed blood made me unsettled."

  She let her gaze wander over the bones of his face while he spoke.

  "I felt like I didn't fit in anywhere, that both races were somehow familiar, yet foreign to me." He was watching her reaction as he spoke.

  She traced the line of the yin yang symbol and its bed of thorns with one curious finger. "But you seem so comfortable with yourself now." She tried to imagine him as a troubled youth. The idea made her wet. She crossed one leg over the other, her knee drawing up to be met by his hand as it moved over the surface of her trousers.

  "I came to realize that there is no norm, most people feel that they don't fit in at one time or another."

  He could have been talking about her feelings about the people she worked with. It was so strange.

  He broke into a smile then. "I grew out of it I guess, and adopted all aspects available to me."

  "The multi-faceted human character?" she said, reminding him of their first conversation.

  He nodded and stared into her eyes, as if he could read her thoughts.

  She sipped her champagne. His fingers rose to her throat and touched it as she swallowed.

  "Everyone has their secret side, Abby, only in some people it is more developed than others." His mouth curled. "You have a dark side, do you not?"

  She looked at his teasing smile. His lips were so perfectly carved. She wanted to drink her champagne from his mouth while he kissed her.

  His eyes were glowing. He seemed to be reading her thoughts as they flickered suggestions.

  "You know me so well," she murmured. Her wrist slid between the chair and the back of his bare shoulder, the glass disappearing into his hair.

  His hand moved from her leg to her waist, then reached up to cup her breast from beneath. "Fate decided that we should meet."

  She leaned toward him, because his words and actions infused her with the need for more of him. "Do you think we were lovers in another life?" she whispered, her sex creaming as the thought teased her.

  "Probably," he said and she seemed to see the confirmation in his eyes. His hand closed on her breast and he moved against the surface of her top slowly.

  Her womb tightened in response to his touch and she felt her breasts straining against his spread palm. She focused on his lips but moved hers past his face and sipped her drink. Then she moved back over his cheek and kissed his mouth, letting the liquid spill slowly into his opening mouth. She moved her hand from his arm to his neck, to feel him swallow, and then she chased the liquid with her tongue. Their kiss endured until his body jerked.

  She dropped back and saw that she'd spilt her drink across his shoulder. It was running over his chest towards his waist. The sparkling patterns of liquid invited her to follow them. She got off his lap and pushed open his thighs to kneel between them
.

  He sat back and watched her, his eyes narrowed, his mouth tense with contained passion.

  She chased the clinging bubbles of champagne back up from his waist to his nipple and sucked, teasing it with her tongue as it hardened. When she saw the pleasure in his face she lifted her glass and ran the remaining liquid over his chest, a little at a time, her mouth catching it, spreading it over him and drinking in the taste of his body with it.

  He swore quietly, stretching at each splash on his skin, each suck of her mouth.

  She felt his hand in her hair, heard him putting his own glass to the floor so he could touch her while she moved on him. His skin tasted so good she drew it into her mouth, sucked, kissed it across his chest. She took a subtle bite where she could feel the bone at the base of his rib cage. A well of desire whirled inside her body, sweeping her into its charge.

  The glass dropped from her hand and she heard it roll on the carpet. She reached for his belt, the button and the zipper. She felt his fingers tighten in her hair as she pulled him free, his cock reaching, like the root of a tree moving through the earth to find its sustenance.

  She moved her face into the heat of his loins as she took in his dense rich scent, her fingers sliding up the silken surface of his erect shaft. Her sex throbbed. The primal force contained in him was mirrored in her own body, like a magnet seeking its equal force. Her lips caressed the surface of his cock, feeling the hot skin, the smooth, ridged flesh. Her sex was pounding, and she plunged her mouth over his shaft, taking it deep, filling her mouth with him, tasting him and pleasuring him. She caresses each slight ridge, her fingers gently moving against his shaft.

  She heard his muted sounds of pleasure then he breathed out her name. With exploratory fingers she measured the weight and tautness of his balls. She heard his breathing come quicker, felt the movement of his balls riding up. She lifted her mouth from him, licking him upwards as she did, her fingers still moving on the base of his shaft.

  His fingers hung in her tangled hair like creatures captured in a net.

  She looked at the throbbing tip of his penis, the slit that gleamed a pearl-like dew with the promise of more to come. She felt his finger touch her lips. As she looked up their eyes met.

  "You're delicious, Zac." Her voice was husky.

  He stared at her with the pain of absolute pleasure. He pulled at her hair with his fingers, his mouth moving silently.

  She smiled then took him into her mouth again, nudging his crown along the roof of her mouth to her throat. He gave a mighty moan and his thick, hot juices pumped into her mouth, swirled into her throat and she swallowed him, each drop like nectar to her.

  When she kissed the last drop from him and looked up he was still braced against the chair, his eyes closed. He looked like a dark overlord conquered by pleasure. She sank down to sit on the floor and lay over him. Her arms reached up his chest, her face lay close against the moist surface of his abdomen. His sated penis glued itself close to her cleavage. Her breasts ached and her whole pelvis pounded with hot, animal instincts.

  He stroked his hands over her shoulders and across her back, lifted the material of her tank top and slid his warm hands underneath. He moved one hand to her chin and caressed it, sweeping her hair back where it clung to her face.

  "It's so hot," she whispered.

  He nodded. The heat was all around them. He fastened his pants and drew her up, lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bedroom. She rolled against his body as he carried her and linked her arms around his neck. She felt so heavy with heat and lust she wondered how he could lift her.

  He laid her down on the bed. "Let me get you something refreshing."

  She lay back on the bed, watching him walk away, sinking into the cool black sheets. Soon they would be heated through from her body. It had to be the hottest night of the year. There was a storm coming. She could sense its approach.

  When he returned he was carrying a platter of fruit. He sat down on the edge of the bed and proceeded to cut it with a small paring knife.

  She lay back and watched him. His face was cast in shadow and it heightened the dark, sexual look of him. She heard a crack and he reached towards her mouth with a small, dark, passion fruit broken in his hand. The juice and seeds were spilling through his fingers. She sucked them from his skin slowly, the taste of the cool fruit only just managing to distract her from the feeling of his fingers in her mouth.

  He was smiling and she continued to suck at him long after the juice had gone, holding his gaze with hers. He pushed her gently back onto the bed and reached for another passion fruit.

  She opened her mouth but he shook his head. "This one's for me." He cracked it over her chest and she gasped as the cool juice slid down her skin and into the material of her top. He leaned over her and licked the juice from her, his tongue chasing it in quick swirling movements that spread flames under her skin.

  This wasn't cooling her down at all, quite the reverse. He reached for another fruit and dribbled it slowly onto her breasts, the material soaking with juice, revealing the erect tissue of her nipples. He followed the juice with his mouth, communicating his desire through her body via the electric current at her nipple.

  "Zac," she whispered. Her sex was aching for him. But he continued his attentions at her breasts, moving from one to the other until she trembled with desire. When he sat up she looked down at her top. It was saturated with juice.

  "Oh dear, what will I wear to get home?"

  He smiled. "You can always borrow something of mine... Do you have to go at all though?"

  She frowned, her eyes closing. She had to be up early to get to work, check for Adrianna's papers and prepare for the auction. "Yes. I have something important to do at work, first thing. I have to go later. It's too difficult to leave you in the morning." She feared he wouldn't understand that she really wanted to stay.

  "I'd like to keep you here, all night, in my bed." His fingers squeezed her nipples slowly as he spoke.

  Her heart raced at the thought of it. She groaned and leaned back against the pillows.

  He slid a cold piece of mango against her throat then leaned over to eat it from her skin. The sensation of his grabbing mouth against her throat sent a wild thread of electricity across her chest.

  "We'll be together at the weekend," she murmured.

  "I can hardly wait." He looked at her again.

  She nodded, her breasts rising and falling with desire.

  He sank down to kiss her cleavage, pushing the material of her top down with his chin. His lips were like steel branding her with his mark. She wanted him to brand her everywhere. He lifted his head and began to rip the top with his hands, tearing the material slowly, revealing her naked skin inch by inch.

  The sound seemed to twitch inside her sex. It begged to be opened up to him too. Her body curved up to him on the bed as he took her naked nipples into his mouth in turn. As he sucked it tugged deep inside her and she whispered her need close to his ear.

  He leaned back and began to undo the buttons of her trousers. She hummed her approval and wriggled free of the material. He touched her mound, as if testing the fruit for ripeness then reached to the platter and brought a slice of guava to her mouth. She bit into it. Its spongy flesh was ice-cold and she tore it gently from his fingers. She took the next piece of fruit from his hand and offered it to his mouth.

  "We could be on a tropical island now...the heat, the flavors, the storm that's coming."

  He knew which storm she meant, but he shook his head. "No. We are only borrowing the flavors. The real heat is our own." His voice led a tremor through her body. She was unable to reply. "Anyway, if it were a tropical island I would have to protect your pale skin from the wicked sun." His hands spread a sticky path across her body, her skin sticking eagerly to his fingers. "I would rather take you to a beach in winter. A snow filled beach...where it would be so cold you would need me to keep you warm."

  Her eyes closed as his fingers trail
ed their sticky prints along the insides of her thighs. As her lids lowered she saw Blayne Castle imprinted there. It stood near a windswept cove. In her mind's eye she could see the snow falling.

  "I think I know the place," she murmured, as his juicy fingers met the juice that came from within her.

  "Will you show it to me?" he asked, his fingers paused.

  "Maybe." She smiled at him.

  He stared at her, his eyes flashing with passion, with warmth and humor, then reached for another slice of mango and touched it along her pussy lips.

  It was cool torture to her and she moaned quietly against the back of her hand. He slid it gently inside her. It was cold and firm against her hot skin. She stirred her hips. She wanted to plunge down onto his hand, but she also wanted to beg for something else. Her whole body throbbed with heat that emanated from a heavy spot within her womb.

  "It wouldn't be too cold for you?" He was smiling wickedly at her as he moved the mango inside her.

  The cool, fleshy fruit and the tease of his fingers brought about a sense of desperation. The air crackled with the imminent storm. A thunderbolt rumbled in.

  "No, not with you there to warm me."

  He dropped down to eat the mango from her, the heat of his lips and tongue taking the coolness away and replacing it with a heat and energy equal to her own.

  He drew her first climax from her with his mouth, teasing the anxious surface of her sex folds with his tongue and inviting them to enjoy his caresses. He sucked gently at her, taking her juice from her inner sex and offering it to her ripe clitoris with his cupped lips.

  She was buoyed up, weightless—strung out by the dynamism and intensity of his touch on her sex. There seemed to be a direct link between him and the thunderous skies over their heads, through the medium of her body. As she lifted, and came, Abby heard the sound of her own voice echoing through the room, like a rain bird in flight above them.