Nature Of Desire: Mirror Of The Soul

by Joey W. Hill

  He smiled, a baring of teeth. Spared a glance at the man he’d left who’d resumed his seat and was watching them with avid interest, that amused look still on his attractive face. “I would have brought ammunition to distract Chloe.”

  “He is quite something.” She raised a brow, teasing him, something she’d never contemplated doing before. “I didn’t think your taste in submissives ran to the same gender.”

  Tyler chuckled, slid an arm around her, turned them so they were to all appearances casually strolling back toward his chair, but his fingers played along her hip and the top of her buttock, making her pulse race. “He’s a good friend and a tremendous artist. And—I do underscore this several times for the health and well-being of any Mistress who tries to seduce him—completely unavailable. His wife’s at a medical conference and he decided to spend a few days here until she gets back because he has a show coming up soon. He’s trying to work up a couple additional pieces at the not-so-gentle demand of his dealer. He’s done studio time here before. It’s quiet and I can keep him from going out of his mind, mostly, without Lauren.” Tyler slanted her a glance. “He’s got somewhat of an uncertain temperament in her absence, given to falling into artistic melancholy, so she likes having me watch over him.

  “The reason I suspect he’s staring at you like that and the reason I don’t consider beating him up for it is you walked across the grass and his creative wheels started revving like the legs of the Road Runner in a Bugs Bunny cartoon. And of course he recognized you as a Mistress.”

  “But he’s taken.”

  “Irrevocably. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t appreciate the qualities when he sees them. He is an artist, after all.” Tyler smiled. “Now you know why he’s here. Why are you here, Marguerite? And if you’re here to tell me you’re going to break it off after that kiss, you better slip off those shoes and prepare to outrun me.”

  She couldn’t help it, she did smile this time. When she put up her hand to cover it, he caught it, brought it to his lips, began to nibble on her fingers.

  “Tyler, there are people watching us.”

  “There are people watching you. Thinking what a lucky bastard I am. Tell me why you’re here. I want to hear it. I need to hear it.”

  She closed her hand into a fist, held it there in his grasp and summoned up her courage to look at him. Something in her expression apparently warned him, for he stopped the easy flirting. He let her go, studied her face. “What is it, angel?”

  She made it a countdown. She would just count to five and say it. Words. They were just words. Certainly words that could change her life, that changed everything, even though perhaps people said ones like them every day and didn’t mean it, just used the phrases as a nicer way of saying what they really wanted to do. But she didn’t say what she didn’t mean and he knew it.

  “I can… I don’t want to interrupt your party. But… I can…” She took a breath. Closed her eyes. Felt him waiting. 1…2…3…4…5…

  “I want you to make love to me. I want to go to your room, your bed, be under you, feel you inside me, see your eyes, feel your body and know…we’re together. I don’t know if that’s love or just need, but I know I need you. I need that with you. I need what I’ve never known and I need it from you. Only you. And it may destroy everything or build something. I really don’t know. I just know… Please make love to me.”

  She opened her eyes and she was staring into his, which had filled with an emotion so strong that she couldn’t face it.

  “No. No, damn it, don’t you look away.” He caught her face, held her there, brushed his thumbs along the soft skin under her eyes. “There’s nothing on earth I’d rather do, angel. You know… You understand what I am, who I am. How I’ll make love to you. How I want to make love to you. As I said before, it doesn’t—”

  “Turn off at The Zone doors.” A shudder ran through her, her pulse increasing under his touch as the light in his eyes flared, telling her he felt it, as well as understood the meaning of her acknowledgement.

  She lifted her chin and his hand lowered, collaring her throat where the pulse beat strong and fast beneath his palm. She shuddered.

  “That’s what I want.”

  He nodded and his lips brushed hers. When she parted them, inviting, he swore softly. “You’re going to destroy me,” he stated. Taking the pins from her hair, he brought it tumbling down. He spread the silk of it over her shoulders, an intimate but not indecent gesture that she knew was just confirming their conversation. She swallowed, aching, somehow wanting at this moment to do as she had done at The Zone. Go to her knees, press her body against his calves, tell him how she needed him. His Dominance, his care. How much she needed to let go at last. She could sit here between his knees, at his feet, holding on to him while he held his court, happy to be quiet and still just under the touch of his hand.

  “I want to feel like I’m yours.” I want to be yours. She leaned into his touch, rose upon her toes against his hold and put her lips against his ear, caressing him with her breath. Now the words flowed out of her with the ease of terrifying truth.

  “Make love to me, please. Master.”

  She’d accepted that her wanting him was inseparable from wanting his Mastery, that undeniable part of himself. Understanding that truth in herself had been as much a source of her fear as simply wanting the man. But now it thrilled her to feel her words ripple through his powerful body, tighten his hand on her throat, his eyes inches from hers, those firm, stern lips. And it brought a wave of energy different in its nature from what she knew as Mistress, but no less potent.

  “Damn it,” he muttered against her, his fingers digging into her hips as she shifted, rubbed her abdomen discreetly against his groin.

  Marguerite felt a flood of ebullience, almost giddiness. When she drew back she knew her eyes were likely sparkling with feverish exhilaration. “I know you have to finish your evening with your guests.” She slipped from his grip. “I’ll ask your friend to keep me company. Let me know when you’re ready to call it a night.”

  She turned away from him, glanced back. “What’s his name?”

  Tyler wanted it to be perfect for her. Everything perfect. Which mean he couldn’t take her down underneath him here on the grass in front of fifty strangers. Good God, she wasn’t wearing underwear. There were no panty lines beneath the formfitting dress, which climbed way too high on those gorgeous thighs. “Josh.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Torture is a two-way street.”

  She blinked, something almost like a smile playing on her beautiful lips. “I need you. I hope the party is over soon.” She turned to Josh, who’d nearly dumped Tyler’s drink on the ottoman in his haste to rise at her approach.

  “Josh?” She extended her hand. “Tyler tells me you have a beautiful and wonderful Mistress. Your wife. I’d like to hear about her. Let’s go sit in the gardens until Tyler finishes with his guests. Would you take me there?”

  Josh noted the way her eyes assessed his movements, drifted over him in the way of a Mistress. But he didn’t sense her intentions to be improper. He imagined it was just to spike Tyler’s blood pressure, which she seemed to be doing admirably well. Her blue eyes as clear and fathomless as a crystal ball, she lowered her hand to his elbow, her fingers playing along his biceps. With Mistresses who were strong Dominants, it was almost second nature to casually touch a man they knew was a submissive. It made the situation even more curious.

  As he took her hand, Josh got sensory overload as an artist, as a man and as a submissive. But because he was very much in love with his wife, devoted to her monogamously as his Mistress as well as spouse, he also picked up something through all of that. Vulnerability. This woman was doing a masterful job of covering it, but he sensed that she was hanging on the edge of a cliff in a situation she wasn’t entirely sure she could handle. Because of that and because her hand was cold he enfolded it in his, offering warmth and reassurance.

  Faint surprise crossed her remarkable featur
es, as well as a bit of relief.

  “It would be my pleasure,” he said and meant it, already liking the complicated woman who had captured Tyler’s interest. “I would love to sketch you.”

  “I would like to see all your tattoo art.”

  It startled a laugh out of him. “We’ll negotiate it out.” He would sketch her and give the result as a gift to Tyler, for it was obvious she was about three steps away from being devoured by the look in his eyes alone.

  “Marguerite.” In two strides, Tyler caught up with them, took her free arm. Keeping his hand on Josh’s shoulder to hold him there, Tyler took her lips in a hard kiss, his hand moving to her nape. When he let her go, his grip on Josh’s shoulder eased, but he kept the three-way contact, a message that Josh had his confidence in her care. Marguerite noted Josh had automatically stayed in place at the commanding touch. She lifted her eyes to Tyler’s face, the promise there.

  “I won’t be long. I’ll come to you as soon as I’m able. Sooner,” he added, with a touch of frustration in his tone that would have made her smile if she weren’t so overwhelmed with need. Nodding, she turned and moved away with Josh out of the pool house. Onto the path to a whole new world for herself.

  Chapter Seven

  Tyler seriously considered fabricating an outbreak of salmonella in the hors d’oeuvres and an impending locust plague, either of which would require everyone to leave now. He hoped he was embroiled in his last conversation of the evening, which he’d strategically arranged to be on the edge of the crowd near the gardens so he could slip away. He’d had to force his mind to stay on the courtesies required of a host to ensure his guests were enjoying themselves and where appropriate, achieving their objectives in attending.

  But with every moment that passed a beast stirred within him, growing ever more hungry and ferocious. She’d come to him at last. Was waiting for him. His mind was full of her, every delicious move of her body in that dress that should have been illegal for public consumption. The way her hand had brushed down Josh’s arm, the graceful fingers playing on his skin while her eyes challenged him. The damned sorceress.

  He’d had submissives that enjoyed flirting and being coy in a pretty way, playfully goading the Dominance from him. Marguerite was a Mistress who demonstrated the tendencies of a submissive only under his touch. Even there she had a Mistress’s aggressive way of unsheathing her claws to drive him insane. Well, it worked. He reminded himself the last group he was with right now were all promising talents deserving of his attentiveness and encouragement. He therefore tried not to convey the deadly impatience of a predator coming out of hibernation, ready to tear into whatever stood between him and dinner.

  Backing away with a smile and nod, he caught hold of Sarah, passing him with another tray of wine. “Sarah, Michael Atlas is going to take over as host for the rest of the evening. Anything he needs, just help him out. If he wants to line up all the cars and drive a monster truck over them, let everyone run naked across the front lawn or hunt down locals for human sacrifice, I don’t care. Just don’t disturb me.”

  “You look disturbed enough as it is.” She chuckled. “She’s by the Aphrodite statue with Mr. Martin.”

  “He’s probably coaxed her out of her clothes for a modeling session.”

  “I’m sure he values his life far more than that. Plus, Miss Marguerite has seemed very resistant to your considerable charms. I can’t imagine Mr. Martin would succeed where you’ve had limited success.”

  “Remind me tomorrow why I don’t fire you for your backhanded compliments. And keep in mind it depends on whether the woman in question wants to tempt me to commit homicide.”

  Sarah laughed as her employer disappeared down the garden path. She wondered if he would break into an undignified sprint and hurdle the hedges once out of her sight. Robert would be sorely aggrieved if a single branch of his rosebushes was snapped. She’d have to put the blame on Mr. Winterman’s rowdier guests.

  Tyler did take a couple of shortcuts, but avoided the drastic assault on the vegetation that Sarah had feared. He came upon Josh and Marguerite, bathed in the moonlight gleaming off the statue of the goddess. Marguerite sat on the edge of the koi pond, trailing her fingers in the water, letting the fish nibble at them. Josh was lying on the soft grass, hands linked behind his head, staring up at the stars, one bare foot propped up on the fountain wall next to her thigh. She clasped the fold of his jeans at his calf as she leaned over to play with the fish, demonstrating that casual intimacy a Mistress employed so easily. So deliberately. The edge of the mid-thigh skirt had inched up her bare leg. Tyler’s mouth nearly watered at the idea of pushing her to her back, spreading those long legs and burying his face in her heat, making her bow up and cries of pleasure break from her sinfully tempting mouth.

  “Okay. Here’s another one.” Josh spoke, still looking up at the stars. “Favorite movie.”

  “Armageddon.”

  Josh tilted his head down. “Now that surprises me. I would have expected some artsy foreign chick-flick I’m expected to know about just because I travel in artsy circles.”

  “Do I look that pretentious?” Her eyes glinted and she made a figure eight over a koi with the pale white color of a phantom. He turned in endless circles, following her impression in the water, apparently happy to please her with the game. Tyler knew just how the graceful beast felt. “Good saves the day. Love is reunited and Bruce Willis proves there are heroes that can make everything all better. I don’t believe in any of that of course, but it doesn’t mean I don’t wish it were true. I love that type of story.”

  Josh grinned, obviously enjoying her. This was a side of her Tyler had not yet seen, so despite his hunger he stayed still, curious. Whether it was the circumstances, the stress she’d been through coming to this decision, or perhaps it was that Josh was not threatening or a challenge to her, this Marguerite was almost…girlish. And, an added bonus, she was making Josh feel better.

  “And how about you?”

  Josh studied the sky, a smile still flirting about his sensual lips. “Attack of the 50 Foot Woman for such obvious, crass reasons I refuse to discuss it further.”

  She had never laughed, never that Tyler had heard, and she didn’t now but her eyes laughed at Josh. “Of course.” Then her gaze shifted. With a flood of heat to his loins, Tyler recognized she was looking for him in the shadows. He stepped out of them, let himself be seen. At the yearning look that flashed through her eyes, he couldn’t summon a smile, even a cordial word. He could barely resist the need to fall to his knees.

  “Josh.” His voice was low.

  Josh lifted his head, took in the situation at a glance. Rolling, he rose to his feet and nodded his head, a courtesy to both before he turned and left them. Marguerite blessed his intuitive and discreet withdrawal, for Tyler was advancing across the clearing swiftly.

  She was ready for him, had come for this, even if she couldn’t say the words. She wanted to be his. All his. Whether it could go any further than tonight, whether her fragile psyche could handle more than this, she didn’t know, but she’d wanted it clear that she’d come to him at least this once. She’d met his terms. She had to put herself in his hands, have faith in every moment after that fateful decision. Not because she no longer feared such a decision so deeply she was shaking in places that did not show, but because she couldn’t imagine any other action.

  He stopped with less than a foot between them. “I want you so much I can’t be gentle, angel. Not even close.”

  Her pulse was high in her throat. At his words, the rate increased. “I didn’t ask you to be.”

  One large hand climbed up her bare thigh which was stretched out as a counterbalance to the position in which she’d been leaning over the pond. The other went to her waist, brought her to her feet, even as the other hand continued its upward advance under the clinging fabric of the skirt to her bare ass beneath. Taking a firm hold, he pressed her hard against him as he brought his lips onto hers. He was ma
king a noise in her mouth, actual growling as he held her tighter, closer, letting her feel every inch of his need for her. She’d never experienced this. Never felt such raw hunger emanating from a man who wanted her, a man with Tyler’s finesse who seemed to know her deep inside herself, whose touch could demand and reassure at once.

  “I’m going to take you to my room and make love to you,” he rasped against her lips, biting them. “The way I’ve imagined doing it for the past couple of weeks. But first I’m going to fuck you, right here, right now.”

  He hooked his foot around her ankle, took them both down to the carpet of grass, catching their weight on his forearm. The thud of their impact was jarring, thrilling in its force, but not painful.

  “Put your arms over your head.” It wasn’t a request, his tone making it easy for her to simply obey, her body trembling, her thighs opened by the press of his thighs between them. He raised his body only to unfasten his trousers and push them far enough down his hips to accomplish his objective. Thrusting his arm under her waist, his large hand palming her bottom to lift her higher, he drove into her. Her pussy was so wet he sank in deeper, faster and harder than he’d expected, causing her to cry out and arch, pain mixed with unbearable pleasure.

  “God, I’ve gone crazy without you,” he muttered. Shoving the dress up to her waist, over her breasts, he bared them to his avid gaze, holding the crumpled fabric against her throat and keeping her pinned as he loomed above her. His hips thrust, his cock stroking tissues that were on fire, that were even now rippling with orgasmic response.

  “I won’t let you stop coming tonight.” And he made it sound like the threat it was. “Until I’ve done every single thing I’ve thought about doing to you and with you these two interminable weeks.”

  She moved restlessly against him, her eyes so wide and clear, so full of him he thought he might be seeing his own soul. He hoped she was seeing the same in his. But even that was a garbled thought, for what he needed and wanted in this moment had more to do with things that went beyond words. And she understood his need. His beast roared at the recognition that she kept her hands above her head at his command, because that was the way he’d commanded it and because that was what the desire in her eyes said she wanted as well.