The Pleasure Slave

by Gena Showalter

  Numb with shock, she toppled to the cold wood floor.

  "Julia," Tristan said, every nuance of concern in her name. Watching her, he sank beside her and curled himself around her, gathering her into the heat of his body. He stroked her hair, kissed the sensitive edge of her ear, all the while murmuring words of comfort.

  "I don't understand this," she said, closing her eyes against the destruction.

  "Some people let darkness fill their souls," he answered, locking one arm under her knees and supporting her back with the other. Then he stood, cradling her in the hollow of his embrace. He ducked his way to her bedroom. She didn't offer a single protest when he laid her down on the mattress and removed her skirt. After gathering the covers from the floor, he tucked the soft material around her trembling frame, placed a soft kiss on her forehead and turned to leave.

  "Tristan," she whispered, stopping him. "Where are you going?" The thick foliage offered a shadowy canopy.

  "I wish to clear the mess."

  "Will you stay with me tonight and hold me?"

  "Aye, little dragon. Whatever you desire." The bed dipped as he eased in beside her and gathered her close, so close every hollow and curve of her body fit snuggly against him. His scent mingled with pine and surrounded her, familiar and so desperately needed. She breathed deeply. "I know not what I can say to end your torment," he whispered, "but somehow I will help you forget this happened. I swear it."

  With his promise in her ears, she allowed herself to sink into the comforting clasp of darkness.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Ask For Permission Before You Do Anything

  SOMEWHERE IN HER conscious mind, Julia heard a loud crack of thunder. Heard rain beat in rhythmic abandon against the window seal. The sleepy fog clouding her thoughts began to clear. And perhaps it was because of the softness of the mattress, or perhaps because Tristan's masculine scent enveloped her senses, but whatever the reason, her mind began to catalog all of her secret desires.

  Make love with Tristan--him on top

  Get a tattoo. Something sexy

  Make love with Tristan--her on top

  Skinny-dip. With Tristan

  Make love with Tristan--him behind her

  Wait. Him behind her...A warm male body did indeed press against her backside. She snuggled deeper into him, remembering she had asked Tristan to sleep in her bed. But as she lay there, her body began to tingle, to want. Her eyelids slowly cracked open. Sunlight forced its way into the bedroom, unwanted and unforgiving. Warm breath caressed her neck, and a bronze, muscled arm draped over her hip. She tried to fight the urge to slip his hand lower, until he touched her where she suddenly ached for him, where moisture pooled between her legs.

  "At last Beauty awakens from a peaceful slumber," Tristan said, his sleep-rich voice purring along her spine. "After all that happened, I feared you would be unable to rest."

  The tree...the little jaunt to Imperia...no, she inwardly intoned. I don't want to remember. But the memories flooded her, anyway: the destruction, the fear. Get up, her mind screamed. Do something. Blinking back the lingering cloud of sleep, she jumped from the bed. There was nothing she could do about the unplanned, otherworldly trip, but by God, she could take care of her house.

  Her movements were clipped as she wrapped her sheer blue robe around her body, a tumble of silk from shoulders to ankle. Right now, Tristan's box was safe. She had to believe that. Otherwise, thoughts of his abduction--for that's what it would be--would haunt and consume her for the rest of the day, and she couldn't afford to worry. There was too much work to do. She needed to clean every room, cut down the tree and perhaps notify her insurance company, replace broken items.

  Seductive as always, Tristan stretched then eased up. His eyes were rimmed with shadows, as if he hadn't really slept at all. "Where are you going?" he asked, his voice scratchy and laden with a delicious yawn.

  Caught up in the trials awaiting her, Julia didn't spare him another glance. Nor did she notice she didn't have to duck. There were no tree limbs. "I need to organize and clean. I can't afford to close the store tomorrow, too, so everything needs to be taken care of today."

  "There is nothing you need do now except climb back into this bed."

  "Look," she sighed, "I don't have time for games. Everything I had in this house is ruined, and I need to clear the damage." She grabbed the first articles of clothing she could find, which turned out to be Tristan's sweatpants and T-shirt. She dressed in the bathroom. Unbidden, she felt her blood simmer with yearning as she inhaled his lingering scent in the fabric.

  Striding through the house, she noticed how murky sunlight flittered through the open curtains. Another round of thunder boomed. Julia halted midstep, drinking in the interior of her house. The floors gleamed with a fresh coat of polish. Every counter and cabinet was dusted and clean. Except for a few missing antiques, an absent TV, and a few holes in the walls, each room looked perfectly normal. A rug covered the remaining tree stump.

  Confused, shocked, she thumped down on the kitchen stool. She hadn't dreamed the destruction, hadn't imagined it, either. That meant...while she'd slept through the night, Tristan had cleared away the damage. She hadn't ordered him to do it. He'd simply taken it upon himself.

  How...sweet.

  She wanted to cry.

  No one had ever treated her with such loving kindness, and knowing he cared enough to do this for her caused every cell in her body to swell with longing and tenderness.

  He strolled past her, his fingertips brushing the hollow of her back. He wore only a pair of briefs. She shivered. His appeal never ceased to amaze and draw her; the strength of his body, the grace of his strides. The majesty of his gaze. Without a word from her, he began his morning ritual of making her coffee, which had not improved, yet she didn't have the heart to correct or stop him.

  "I tried to tell you that I had already accomplished what you wished to do," he said, not sparing her a glance.

  "No," she shook her head, "you said I needed to get back in bed."

  He arched a brow. "Is that not the same?"

  No, it wasn't. Once again she surveyed the length of the room. "What you did...you've left me speechless, Tristan, and I don't know what to say."

  "Say that you will never again look so defeated, that you will trust me to take care of you."

  "I do trust you," she said, and knew she meant every word. "More than I've ever trusted another person."

  A smile teased the corners of his lips. "That pleases me."

  "How did you manage this?" She swept her arms in a wide arch. "I never once heard you."

  "My skills as a cleaner have been perfected over the years. Fresia, a woman I once served, forced me to scrub her home from top to bottom whenever I displeased her."

  "How horrible," Julia muttered, more upset by the mention of another woman dictating his actions than by the work he'd been forced to do. I'm a mess, she thought.

  "Horrible is an apt description," he replied. "Your office--"

  She gasped. "My office! Please tell me you didn't clean my office." If he'd inadvertently thrown away her computer disks or account files..."I don't want to sound ungrateful, but--"

  He cut her off before she could work up a good panic attack. "I left that chamber for you, as I did not know what belonged where."

  "Thank you." The scent of coffee drifted to her nostrils, as relieving as his words. "For everything," she added. While he looked savage and untouchable on the outside, Julia saw the tender, kind man he truly was. No wonder she loved--Oh, God!

  Love.

  She'd entertained the possibility last night, yet it had seemed questionable under the influence of wine. There was no question in the light of day, however. She did. She loved him. The absoluteness of her feelings rang inside her like a carillon of bells, a culmination of joy and sadness, longing and bittersweet pain. She wanted to laugh and sob at the same time.

  She loved him.

  And she didn't know what to do ab
out it.

  If she told Tristan, he might pity her, or worse, nonchalantly dismiss her love as insignificant. After all, he placed no value on the emotion. And why should he? her mind added succinctly. Confusion. Self-doubt. Longing for the impossible. All three were components of love. Julia uttered a sigh. She'd always imagined the emotion as flowers and candy, smiles and happiness--not to mention marriage and babies.

  She had two choices, she realized, closing her eyes. She could suppress her feelings for him and pretend nothing had changed, or she could give him all that she had to offer.

  The answer sprang to life before she even finished her thought. Number two, thank you very much. He was everything she'd always wanted, and everything she'd thought she could never have. His smile brightened the worst of her days. She felt as if she'd waited for him her entire life. His generosity touched her heart. He made her tingle and sweat, made her crazy with desire.

  Determined, she faced him. While she wouldn't tell him of her love and scare him away, she wanted to show him how she felt. Simply saying, "Hey, you. I want to get it on," wasn't appropriate, though.

  So how did she gain his attention? Suddenly, she couldn't recall a single thing he'd taught her. Should she trace her fingertips over the hard ridges of his abdomen? Roll his beaded nipples under her palms? Moisture pooled between her legs, hot and demanding. Her hands ached to touch him, had to touch him.

  "You know, Julia, I have been thinking," he said, just as she was reaching out. She dropped her arm to her side. At the counter, he shifted his weight, his forearms resting on either side of her. "Since Puny Peter is no longer a part of your life, we must make a list of requirements for your new man."

  She felt...shock? Anger? Hurt? Yes, all of those things. She wanted to make love with him, and he wanted to help her pick another man to seduce. Maybe she had misunderstood. "You want to help me pick another man to seduce?"

  "Aye," he answered without hesitation.

  What about last night? What about the wonderful things you said to me, did for me? Her heart drummed a painful, hollow beat in her chest. She heard each thump, an echo of her stupidity and pain.

  "I don't have time to make a list," she bit out, not sure how else to respond. "I have to clean my office and see what's salvageable." She tried to push to her feet, but he held her in place with a glare.

  "Your office can wait until later. As this is to be a lesson, I am in charge. What I say, you do with no arguments, and I say we will stay here and make a list."

  "All right, fine," she snapped, choking back tears.

  "I have taken the liberty of securing ink and paper."

  "Of course you have." Her words floated across the distance, shrouded with feigned enthusiasm. She gripped the offered pen and pages and dropped them in front of her. "I'm ready when you are."

  "I have given this much thought," he said, "and I believe requirement number one should be handsome."

  Since Julia wasn't in the mood to play along, she muttered, "No. I'm putting 'not too ugly.'"

  Tristan made a sound in the back of his throat that sounded suspiciously like choking. "This is a list of desires, if you will recall."

  "I know. But in today's society a woman can't be too picky." Especially me.

  He frowned, but continued on. "How do you feel about a man who appeals to your senses? Taste. Touch. Smell."

  She shook her head, writing instead, "If he doesn't stink, I'll take him."

  Tristan's expression deepened. "Is it important that your man give you jewels and furs?"

  "Money doesn't matter." Which was true. She made enough money to support herself.

  For some reason, her words made him smile. "Most women melt when a man hears beyond her words to what she truly desires. How feel you about this?"

  Julia nibbled on the end of the pen as she pretended to think it over. "I'll settle for someone who doesn't fall asleep while I'm talking."

  That wiped the grin off his face. In fact, he gritted his teeth. "What about witty? A man who can make you laugh is like a rare gem."

  "Witty is too high a standard. I'd like a man who has mastered the craft of laughing when I tell a joke, even when he didn't hear me in the first place."

  "You need someone who is strong, a man well able to protect you."

  "If he can rearrange my furniture, he's perfect."

  "Do you want a man who shares your interests?"

  "I'll settle for a man who doesn't drink straight from the milk carton."

  Tristan began pacing, a dark storm cloud hovering over his shoulders. His hands were locked behind his back, his gait stiff. Uttering a frustrated sigh, he shoved a hand through his hair. Stray locks tumbled across his forehead. "Some men offer thoughtful surprises. Does this please you?"

  "Oh, yes. Remembering to put the toilet seat down is a must."

  He growled. "You should demand more for yourself, Julia. You are a beautiful, fascinating woman. Many men find you desirable."

  "Fine. You want honesty? Here it is. I want a man who cares for me. Who will, well, who will make my body ache and my senses reel. Who wants me as much as I want him."

  Frozen in place, Tristan fixed her with a hot stare. "That is truly what you desire?"

  "Yeah." She glared up at him. "You got a problem with that?"

  "A problem? Nay. Not when I meet your requirements."

  "Wh-what?"

  He ticked off his attributes. "I am not too ugly. I do not smell foul. Have I ever fallen asleep while you were talking?"

  "No," she answered, still shocked from his announcement.

  "I am strong enough to move your furniture. I care for you. And I have pleased you with my touch. Many times. I am perfect for you." He smiled, slowly, seductively, sending a current of desire throughout her entire body. "So now you will entice me."

  He still wants me, was her first thought.

  Why am I still sitting here? was her second.

  Joy wrapped around her like a silken cocoon. His hungry gaze washed over her. Her hungry gaze washed over him. They were both mentally stripping away the other's clothing, piece by unwanted piece, and they both knew the other was doing it.

  At last recalling the techniques he had taught her, she batted her lashes at him. "Maybe I'm waiting to see if you do, in fact, meet all of my requirements. Can you make me ache?"

  Diabolical and wicked, his eyes gleamed with delight, making the irises glow like crystal fire. "We will just have to see, will we not?" With that, he simply walked away.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Worship Your Master's Body

  DUMBFOUNDED, Julia stared after his retreating back. He'd vowed to seduce her yet had left her here alone. She didn't understand. Was she supposed to get started without him?

  Before she could work up a good panic, Tristan reappeared.

  "Come here, Julia," he said, and somehow managed to put all sorts of nuances into those words--as if he could lure her to bed with only his voice.

  He was right.

  In a trance, she went to him, craving the essence of his touch. Wanting the culmination of his passion.

  "Fear nothing I do," he said, moving behind her.

  A wave of uncertainty drifted through her at such ominous words, but she nodded.

  He wrapped a blindfold over her eyes. Darkness engulfed her. He tied the strings, careful not to tug her hair. Nervousness soon mingled with her desire, making her tremble.

  "What are you doing?" she asked softly.

  "Do you still trust me?"

  "Yes." Without a doubt.

  "Then no questions."

  "No questions." Julia drew in a deep breath, trying to break past the darkness. Only when she completely relaxed did she hear the deluge of rain splashing hypnotically outside. She smelled Tristan's masculine scent a bit stronger. Felt his heat a bit deeper.

  "Repeat after me," he said. Ah, his voice was like rich brandy and smoky cigars, and so intoxicating she was drunk with arousal. "I am beautiful."

&
nbsp; "I am beautiful."

  "I am worthy."

  "I am worthy."

  "I am precious."

  "I am precious," she whispered.

  His praise, and her own avowal to the affirmative, seeped into her consciousness, and for the first time in her life, she believed them. She was beautiful. She was worthy. She was precious. Brian hadn't been worthy of her.

  "Do you know what you do to me?" he breathed in her ear, then placed a lingering kiss on the back of her neck and she absorbed the warmth of him. "How you make me burn? If you do not, you soon will, for I plan to make you melt wherever I touch you. My fingers will be hot. They will scorch your skin as they explore every curve, every hollow...every luscious inch."

  The ardor of his promise mesmerized her, cast a spell of love and lust around the parameters of her mind. Thiswas what she'd dreamed about all those many years she'd spent alone at night, hoping, wanting.

  "Once we come together, sweet dragon, you'll only want more," he vowed. "So much more."

  Small, delicious tremors rocked her.

  But he wasn't finished.

  Reaching around her, he palmed one of her breasts through the fabric of her shirt, feather soft. "I'll touch you here." His other hand slid down her stomach, stopping only when he reached the apex of her thighs, not truly connecting, yet she still felt the heat of him. "I'll touch you here, as well. And everywhere in between."

  His breath stroked her neck, so silky, so arousing. Intense currents of passion sailed through her blood, consuming every crevice of her body. He untied the drawstring of her pants, and the thick material floated to her ankles. Every insecurity she'd ever harbored slid away, as well, and she was surprised that she didn't want to cover herself. No, she wanted to take off more clothing.

  He helped her step out of the pants. The air surrounding her was cool, but she felt hot. So hot. When she steadied, he dipped his fingers inside her panties, moving lower, lower still, until his hand rested over her curls.

  She gasped. The contact was so intimate, so new. With gentle motions, he stroked the silky hair, soft, hard, soft. Her hips rocked slightly with his touch, urging him to go deeper.

  "Do you want me to take you over the edge?" he asked.

  Even whispering, he possessed the most sensual voice; a deep, rich baritone that wrapped around her as surely as the blindfold over her eyes. Every time he spoke, his breath fanned her ear, sending images of tangled sheets and hot, sweaty skin through her mind.