by Holley Trent
He gave her one last tantalizing nibble, while his lust-filled gaze filled her mind with every reason why she didn’t want him to stop. “It doesn’t have to be. You could talk me into giving you more of my tongue wherever you please.”
She could only gaze into those eyes while her mind scrambled for the reason why that was a bad idea. Oh right, she needed to win the game to go home. A pretty good reason.
She zipped up and buttoned her blouse. “Fun game, isn’t it? My turn now.”
She forced her mind out of the sexual haze she’d been lost in and rolled the die.
“Five. Good. We’re taking too much time with our rolls. We need to get this game moving.” She moved her game piece five squares to one of the bends in path. The black square had instructions printed in hot pink. She read out loud, “You have the option to fast track. Great! Sorry to leave you in the dust, Jonathan, but yes, I will definitely fast track.” This game was playing nicely in her favor.
The expression on Jonathan’s face was pretty satisfying for a man left in the dust. Obviously he was not a sore loser.
She followed his gaze to the square her game piece had landed on. A glowing message now shimmered where the instructions had previously been printed. Interesting technology. She read the words, and her next breath bottlenecked in her throat.
A low groan rose from Jonathan as he read the message that appeared on the board. The unearthly communication printed out like ticker tape:
Fast track rescinded, Isabelle. This round goes to Jonathan, so he wins your card. It’s now an opportunity card, the opportunity to repeat a turn anytime. For your handicap, Isabelle, since you’re not tied up at the moment, it’s time to explore your fantasies.
“My fantasies? I don’t have fantasies,” she lied. “What kind of handicap? And who the heck is writing these messages?”
Jonathan shot her a skeptical look. “Everyone has fantasies. If I were to read between the lines, I’d say you’ve shared a little bondage fantasy with someone at the resort.”
“I promise you, I did not.”
He flashed her a look that spoke clearly of his willingness to play out her fantasies. Oh no. Apparently where Jonathan was concerned, her fantasies ruled. She’d been curious about bondage, but she’d never told a soul. Intrigued by the freedom of giving up control, not caring if a man desired her body more than her mind, she could focus her attention on nothing but physical pleasure. Just the thought gave her another erotic surge.
She sighed. She could only win this game if she didn’t dare acknowledge her fantasies, not to him, not even to herself.
He scooped up her card and slipped it into his pocket. “I like it. Repeating a turn may put you over the edge just at the right time for me to win the game.”
She tugged her skirt down to her knees and tucked her long legs up under her. “I’m sorry about your emergency, Jonathan, but I don’t like the insinuations of these eerie messages. I don’t like that the game rescinds turns. I don’t like that some of the squares are blank. And I don’t like taking risks when the consequences are not clear.”
He glanced at the board and snapped up the die. “You’re thinking too much. Don’t take this too seriously.” He dropped the die. Four. When he moved his game piece ahead four counts, it ended on a pink square. He let out a low whistle. “Sweet, surreal mercy.” An inner thigh and a paintbrush. Once again, a scripted message appeared in glittering gold. “Paint what you most desire on Isabelle’s thigh.”
Isabelle leaned forward to take a look. She was toast. In what universe would her body not respond to Jonathan’s desire painted on her thigh? She needed a distraction and fast. “Let’s forget the game, it’s taking too long. With a lighted torch, we could make our way along that security fence and … ”
Jonathan’s mouth opened, but then closed as his gaze fixed on a spot behind Isabelle. Disbelief registered on his face. No, stronger than disbelief, the man looked distressed. He grabbed her hand, tugged her up to stand, and pushed her behind him.
She stepped on her own shoe trying to look past him, but before she could ask what he’d seen, she spied a man with flowing white hair who stood facing them. She gasped, both from his sudden appearance and from his startling good looks. Almost ethereal looks. Looks that drew a woman’s attention and kept it. Just what she didn’t need — another charismatic man. She fought the bizarre desire to run her fingers through his hair. Hair didn’t usually shimmer like that. Was it soft like corn silk or rose petals or bunny fur?
She almost took a step forward, her foot muscles tensed to propel, until the god-like man shifted his stance. Every muscle in her body came to a screaming halt.
This was no man.
For a moment, she prayed she was mistaken — a trick of light or a lack of light — but humans didn’t have ears that swept up to a point. Ears that looked like horns. Ears that no matter how much she hoped, would never be part of a Halloween costume.
“Sometimes I do dress to accommodate your pagan holidays, Isabelle. This is not one of those times.” Her heart kicked against her ribs. The elfish creature had a voice like chocolate-covered toffee — hard edges coated in sweetness.
“He didn’t approach by foot. He materialized behind you.” Jonathan’s voice was low in her ear.
“He not only knows our names, he can read our minds,” she replied. Her own mind tumbled through a vacuum, an impossible place to get a grip. Was she in an elf world now? A fantastical place where hobbits lived in furnished furrows with wardrobes that sent a person over the hill and into Narnia?
The probability hit her like a knee in the gut. The disappearing resort. The appearing Rhapsody game. The mind-reading elf. No longer could she rationalize these events to advanced technology or magic tricks or a resort hoax.
The creature crossed his arms over his magnificent chest. “I don’t often think of myself as elf, Isabelle. My name is Finn. My home is Alfheim, a dimension so close to your own Earth, you could visit with a few steps, but very few humans can open an Alfarian door. Eons ago, the Alfarians shared the same dimension as the Elves. We grew apart. But that’s neither here nor there.” Finn moved a pace closer, yet without stride. He merely glided over the ground. “I must tell you, Isabelle, I am disappointed in your unwillingness to continue my game. You have no appreciation for how fortunate you are to take part in my study.”
Jonathan’s hand gripped Isabelle’s as he scoffed. “As fortunate as any mad scientist’s victim.”
The intensity in Finn’s iridescent eyes brightened. “Do you think it wise, Jonathan, to antagonize a superior being who’s not limited by the physical laws of your realm?”
Close beside her, Jonathan’s body felt like a guitar strung too tightly to play, but he didn’t retort.
“Think of your fellow scientists. I am more humane than you humans. I do not harm my subjects, nor sacrifice them when I’m done. All I seek is to harness a wee bit of energy. To test variables, to ensure the greatest release for the ultimate good of both our realms, perhaps for our survival.”
The absurdity of the situation had Isabelle at a loss for words. She squeezed Jonathan’s hand.
“You use humans as game pieces and call it saving the world.” Jonathan glanced warily at Isabelle.
“Are you not enjoying the game, Jonathan?”
Jonathan remained as silent as she did. She tried not to think of how tantalizing his lips had felt on her tummy. Yes, she was enjoying the game. If only she could let her desire to lose control win over her need to self-control.
Finn’s gaze locked on hers, a sizzling look that seemed to slip under her skin and stroke every sexual nerve. Oh yes, she would like to relinquish her body to Jonathan’s lips suckling and nipping and laving and —
Finn’s almost imperceptible nod froze her thoughts. “Yes. Good. Imagine, Isabelle. Have fun with your f
antasy. Here in my world, you can’t escape it. Let this excite you. You will be safe. I promise to release you when you win the game.”
An elfish ear twitched as Finn turned his attention to Jonathan. “Indeed, time marches on in your world. You don’t want to waste it. You don’t want to lose. You want to play out Isabelle’s fantasy. I guarantee there will be no regrets.”
A gust of wind unfurled against Isabelle’s neck in the same sensuous caress as earlier on. The breeze fluttered down her collarbone, rippled across her breasts and folded over both her nipples in such an exquisite squeeze, she gasped lightly.
Finn vanished. He was simply there one moment and gone the next.
“Tell me we’re dreaming,” Isabelle said.
Jonathan tugged her close and pinched her arm. “Feel that?”
“Ouch. Yes. So then, we’ve been waylaid by an elf.” An elf with the most unusual ability to harness the wind, unless the sensual wisp she’d felt had been her imagination or a poke from the repressed sex kitten inside her who wanted to come out to play.
“No.” His smile was wry. “An Alfarian who’s tapped into your fantasies. Can’t say I saw this coming when I woke up this morning.”
“No? Well, you just have no imagination.” The calm in her voice was impressive.
“Funny.” Letting go of her hand, he dropped to his haunches on the blanket where the game waited. With the die cradled in his right palm, his gaze slid to her wrists, up her arms, over her lips, and came to rest on her eyes. She felt a hot trail burning where his gaze had touched, a torch to the ember that had begun moments ago, a burning for him.
“Okay, sweetheart, are you going to tell me your naughty fantasies, so we can finish this game and get the hell outta here?”
She sat on her knees, close enough to him that her leg touched his, close enough to feel safe. Despite her earlier intent to resist, her breath quickened as excitement spiraled low in her tummy. What specifically did she have to lose? Nothing critical. Except the analytical loop that ran endlessly through her brain. What specifically did she want? Another pulse of sexual energy tightened her insides. She wanted one night to stop dwelling on broken relationships. She wanted one night with no lasting ties to the real world. She wanted one night to invite her inner bad girl to come out and play.
She wanted one fantasy-come-true night.
She didn’t dare look Jonathan in the eye as she began to strategize. Why lay out her fantasy on a silver platter and make the game easy for him? “You mean my fantasy for a decent foot massage when I get home?”
“Isabelle, give it up. You’re a lousy liar.”
Chapter Five
Isabelle’s resistance was like jet fuel to Jonathan’s competitiveness. He knew when a woman responded to his touch. When he’d kissed her ankle, she’d rolled her hips toward him. Her chest had risen and then she’d held it full of her last breath for more than a few seconds, and the little moan she’d released was a green light if he’d needed another sign.
When he’d kissed her tummy, he felt her tremble. That tremble had done crazy things to him. Surprise. He’d thought he could remain impassive with Isabelle.
When she’d spurned him earlier in the week, he’d felt a small poke to his ego, but he’d gotten over it quickly with the sultry redhead who’d knocked on his door — after all, everyone enjoyed feeling desired.
Isabelle was different though, discerning, and that attracted him. Made him feel like he had to try harder. Must be the competitiveness in him, but he liked that even though she’d trembled, she’d tried to hide it from him. He wanted to be the one to help her relinquish the tight hold she kept on her self-control.
Now that they knew the fastest way back to civilization was to play out her fantasy, how best to convince her of what he knew she wanted? His gaze fixed on her lovely legs. He saw himself ascending those legs starting with her red painted toes, carrying on with the barest touch of his lips until he felt more of those fine tremors run under her skin, slowing down so he didn’t miss an inch of her all the way up to the top of her thighs.
“Well, Isabelle, if you won’t tell me, I’ll have to get creative.” Inside the game box was a drawstring bag he’d seen earlier but had decided to leave alone to not scare off Isabelle in case the bag held anything too erotic. He opened the pouch and poked through. “I think it’s time to see what else this game has to offer. Look at this.” He pulled out two long ribbons. “Black silky strings. Wonder what I could use these for?”
A hint of a smile rose to her eyes, just a hint but one in the right direction. The smile he returned was warmer as he held the ribbons unfurled between them. Leaning back on one arm, she looked like an invitation he couldn’t wait to open. Blood rushed to his groin at the thought of Isabelle bound, a new experience for him.
Her forehead wrinkled, but the little smile was still there. “We better talk about this, set some boundaries.”
“Definitely. I’ve heard that couples use a code word. You say the word and I’ll stop.”
“If I tell you to stop, I mean stop. I don’t need any other word.”
“Fair enough. You have my word I will stop.” He took one of her hands in his and let the silky texture of the ribbon slide across her wrist. “These ribbons turn you on like they’re turning me on?”
“Maybe.” The confidence in her expression was so damn sexy he didn’t think. He cupped her chin in his hand and sealed his lips over hers.
She hesitated for less than a second, then she responded in a surprisingly passionate kiss, a kiss that said she was one hundred percent okay with their game play.
The kind of kiss worth waiting for.
She tasted of spice and heat, feast and desire, everything he wanted. He sucked her bottom lip into his mouth, darted his tongue across the smooth skin and then closed his mouth over hers again and again.
Their lips rested against one another for a moment and he nearly drew back, but then she gave him such a languid kiss that he lost his body, felt no parts of himself but his lips on hers. Never had he experienced such a feeling.
Good Lord , the woman knew how to kiss.
When she drew back, he saw her eyebrows darted with that same look of perplexity she’d had earlier. He could almost hear her musings. She wouldn’t want to talk about the earth moving. Had the earth moved?
He shook the thought from his head. “Give me your other wrist, sweetheart, and let’s play.”
“Mmm hmm,” became the sexiest sound he’d heard in a long time. Why had he thought she would be a challenge? She relinquished her wrist. He loved her adventurous spirit. The moment her wrists touched, the ribbon curled over her skin and tied itself in a bow.
She sucked in a breath. “Jonathan, did you see that?” Her voice quivered on her last word, but belied the thrill in her eyes.
A little squeak escaped her. “I’m stuck. I can’t move.”
“How can you not move?” He gave her arm a little push. She moved.
Her eyes widened. “Oh my God. You can move me. I have no control.”
“Is this a bit too freaky?”
She was speechless.
Yet as the skin on the back of his neck tingled, his balls tightened. Her beautiful body was his to do with as he pleased. The primitive male in him, a fraction of his makeup he rarely glimpsed, sought to claim her, to share in something she’d not offered another man. He didn’t take the time to wonder why the notion appealed. To claim a woman like Isabelle, to awaken the vixen she kept closeted, he must ensure she felt safe with him. “I don’t know about you, but this is turning me on big time. Remember, this game is just for fun, Isabelle. Hold on, I have an idea.” He curled the end of the ribbon around her finger. “Tug on it.”
When she did, the ribbon released her.
“There, you can release yourself if you want, but if
you want to win, you’ll have to play fair and follow through. It’s your decision. Do you want to play?”
She didn’t hesitate this time. “Yes, but I don’t plan on letting you win, so I’m glad this is turning you on big time.” She ran her teeth along her bottom lip, an obvious gesture meant to exploit what she saw as her advantage. “Let’s play, baby.”
With the ribbon back in place, he shot her a devilish smile laced with his intent to prove that by the end of his turn, she’d beg for release, but not from her bonds. “Are you comfortable? Too cool? Too warm?” Leaning closer, with a brush of his fingers along her collarbone, he reached the top button of her blouse. “I could undo a few buttons here and give you some air.”
A flicker of excitement sparked in her eyes, but not excitement alone. In the way she pressed her lips tight, he saw her pull back on the reins, control her desire. Isabelle had a competitive streak in her, too. “No, I’m quite fine, but thanks for asking.”
In a slow caress, he drew his fingers along the inside of her arm, slowing down as he passed over her inner elbow. She’d responded to that earlier. “You’re sure? Just the top two buttons?”
The way her eyelids dropped meant she liked the idea of him undressing her even as she shook her head no.
“Okay then. I believe I have a sketch to paint.” Before she’d been immobilized, she’d shifted both legs off to the side, bent at the knees. “Your thigh is hidden under you, Isabelle. I’ll have to remedy that.”
Slipping his palm under her calf, he stroked the slender muscle for a few moments with his thumb before he gently pulled one leg and then the other out from under her. He steadied her with his hand on her shoulder.
Her lips parted a fraction. “This is so weird.”
“Yeah, but in the sexiest way.”
When he bent her leg at the knee, a provocative pose that gave him access to her inner thigh, his breath hitched in his throat. His gaze fixed on the hem of her skirt, a black ruffling against a creamy thigh. Everything he wished to do to her, he revealed in his smile. “Van Gogh would have killed to paint such a canvas.”
