Seduced

by Kate Allure

  He’d done it on purpose, of that she had no doubt. He really would try anything to get her back into his bed!

  But he’d given the music to her last week, before their relationship had changed, she remembered. Now they were just friends.

  Frustrated, she turned around and headed home, giving up her useless attempt to forget about him. Like annoying weeds in a garden that keep growing back, doubts unfurled in her mind.

  Had she turned her back on a budding romance and the best two nights of sex in her entire life?

  Neither her ex-husband nor Rupert had come close to taking her to such erotic heights, nor had they ever really cared what turned her on. However, Ian had demonstrated over and over his generosity and thoughtfulness both in and out of bed.

  Could she give him another chance?

  But as she rounded the bend to her flat, her biggest concern raised a hand for attention. There was still a large age difference between them. Yes, the gap was even bigger between her and Rupert but a man being older than his wife was no big deal, while a woman being older, even in this modern time, raised eyebrows. Besides the fact that she was a judge and he a barrister, tongues would wag about their age difference, of that she was sure.

  Besides, he was in a different place in his life—climbing to the top while she’d already reached the pinnacle. But did that really mean they couldn’t have some fun together?

  She would have to forgive him first.

  With a wave to her doorman, she entered the elevator and tried to focus on her previous fury over his betrayal by omission…but it had evaporated. She believed he’d told her the truth, that he’d only wanted to cement their attraction to each other before revealing who he was. He knew her well, it seemed, because she never would have allowed him near her otherwise. His relative youth, the fact that he often appeared in her court, even his cocky attitude would have blocked her from agreeing to go on a first date with him, let alone have wild bondage sex.

  Still, he hadn’t had the right to take their professional relationship to a personal level without her permission! She tried to reinflate her anger, but it lay there flat, lacking the power to hurt anymore.

  She exited her elevator and stopped short, her eyes wide.

  There on the floor before her door lay the largest bouquet she’d ever seen. She tried to tamp down on her reflexive delight, but it wasn’t possible. The gorgeous mix of violets, amethyst-colored roses, lavender, irises, and other purple flowers she couldn’t name thrilled her. The entire mass was wrapped in violet tissue and tied together with a gauzy ribbon.

  She inhaled the delicious fragrance—like a lush spring garden—and let happiness flow through her.

  As far as worthy apologies go, Ian had it all figured out.

  Smiling, she lifted the heavy bouquet into her arms. It was sumptuous and extravagant. She should get the stems into vases quickly, but instead, once inside her flat, she plopped down onto the nearest chair and leaned back, cradling the flowers.

  She noticed a small envelope tucked into the arrangement, with an ivory card inside.

  Friendship isn’t enough. Please call me. IK

  Was it possible they could be lovers again? Like the floral perfume suffusing her senses, the possibilities permeated her. Closing her eyes, she took a long, deep breath and let the excitement blossom within her. Ian and her…together? For real?

  She exhaled, and her worries seemed to float away, replaced by daydreams of him and her as sexual beings, exploring pleasure and friendship, together. Her mind opened to the natural beauty of it. She took more deep breaths, her chest rising and falling, and the rightness of it settled comfortably, its weight substantial but wonderful, like the bouquet in her lap.

  She opened her eyes and looked down at his latest declaration of esteem and desire.

  “Ian,” she said aloud. “You’ve earned yourself a second chance.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  It was Friday, and Ian sat in Tori’s court, as she’d known he would. Near squirming with excitement, she planned to spring a surprise attack later this morning. Unwilling to meekly surrender, she needed to know how far he was prepared to go to win her back.

  Her plan to both capture and repay him in one sinful stroke awaited, ready to be launched.

  Sitting high above the court, she modeled respectability in her dour black judge’s robes, but underneath she wore an entirely different type of costume. She smiled, privately contemplating the payback that at this moment lay waiting in her pocket. The all-important text, already typed, needed only one push of a button to send.

  Daring and dangerous, she was determined to see this through. Her flower-fueled epiphany had opened her mind to the possibilities of Ian and her together, as both friends and lovers. But it had also made her realize she must fully embrace her desires. She needed to live her sexuality fully, including the hidden part of her that had waited years to emerge.

  Today, she would be the courageous and free-spirited woman who would finally bring Ian King to his knees.

  She watched him perform in her court, wrapping up one last procedure as he transitioned to another section of the Royal Courts. While he behaved with perfect decorum, his eyes betrayed him at times, a pleading look flashing across his face before he quelled it. She gave him no quarter and no indication that her feelings had softened, even adding a degree of severity to her tone when she spoke to him.

  While the hearing dragged for everyone else, she enjoyed every minute of anticipation. Finally, only thirty minutes remained before she would adjourn the case for the rest of the day.

  It was time.

  The slightest grin curved her lips, and she unobtrusively reached into her pocket to pull out her mobile. Glancing down once, she pushed send.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Ian’s phone vibrated in his pocket as he walked to his seat while opposing counsel had their turn. He quietly pulled it from his pocket while watching Tori.

  She was staring straight at him, a hint of a smile on her face and her head tilted slightly. It struck him that the message might be from her. But what could be so important she couldn’t wait until after court?

  Thoughts of her had consumed him for days, to the point of nearly going to her flat unannounced and uninvited. He’d barely restrained himself, settling instead for sending yet more flowers.

  Now, maybe, she was finally reaching out to him.

  Furtively he read the text.

  Candi: Meet me in my chambers at 12:00. I’m aching, soaking wet, and throbbing for YOU. Give a nod if you’re interested.

  He choked, sucking air in a loud gasp. Several heads turned his direction. The phone burned his hand, screaming for him to read it again. But he didn’t dare. Nor did he need to—her words were emblazoned in his mind. Aching, soaking wet, throbbing.

  Unexpected happiness made his chest tight. Exploding lust made his pants tight. He was completely distracted.

  She wants me!

  She was taking him back!

  He raced from one electrifying conclusion to another.

  We’re going to fuck! Maybe right there in her chambers.

  Unable to resist, he gripped his phone and reread the message. For a moment, he lost all sense of time and place while he contemplated what he would do to her, with her. And in just a few short, short minutes.

  Shite!

  So much blood flooded his cock, his erection tented his slacks. Sitting still became a struggle. He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. Good god.

  His head jerked up, suddenly aware that she was watching him.

  Their eyes met.

  She was grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

  No, more like a cat in heat.

  Her expression looked calm, but the fire in her eyes burned like an inferno.

  He fought to keep his expression neutral. He should be angry she was playing with him during court, but he recognized payback when he saw it. He had to admit, he’d earned it.

 
He grinned broadly, unable to stop. He loved her devious, sexy, wicked style. Very much.

  Abruptly, he realized that everyone else was watching him, too, expectant looks in their expressions. He’d nearly missed his turn.

  His eyes flicked back to Tori, and she wore an amused expression. He needed to get back in the game. He stood up too quickly and had to grab the table to keep from tipping over. His brain was drunk on desire. It was brutal, but he managed to choke his way through a series of questions, holding a sheaf of papers in front of his X-rated groin.

  He gratefully sat down when his turn was over and waited for her to look at him again. When she did, he gave her a single nod.

  Hell, yes, I will meet you in your chambers.

  Sitting in a haze of anticipation, he barely registered the bailiff’s order, “All stand.”

  Watching Tori file out of the courtroom, his pulse raced.

  Soon!

  Wanting to run to her, he exited the courtroom in a fast walk, the most dignified he could manage. He gripped the handle of his briefcase tightly. Inside was another small gift he’d bought for her before they became “just friends.”

  He paced the halls for ten minutes until finally it was noon. He walked into her vestibule precisely at twelve and approached the receptionist.

  “Justice Whittingstall is waiting for you in her chambers. You can go right in,” the girl said, pointing toward the door at the end of a long stone hallway.

  He knocked once and opened the door. Tori sat behind her desk, but she wasn’t smiling. She was also still wearing her high court robes, which seemed odd.

  After shutting the door behind him, he stepped forward, waiting for her to say something. When she didn’t, he went into formal mode, since—sexting aside—it was always the safest strategy when invited into a judge’s chambers.

  “Your Honor, Justice Whittingstall. Thank you for seeing me. I want to say again how sorry I am. I promise never to lie or keep the truth from you again. Ever. And I hope—”

  “Lock the door,” she interrupted, her tone cold.

  He hurriedly did as he was told. Turning back to face her, he tried again. “Please, give me another chance.”

  She sat behind her desk, looking prim in all black with her hair pulled tight in a bun. Her expression remained stony and unyielding.

  He took a few steps closer. “I thought you invited me here today t-to—” He stammered to a stop.

  One did not tell a high court judge that he was there to bang her wet, throbbing, aching person, even if she had said it first.

  Facing her icy glare, he retreated. “Or did you mean that you wanted to meet after hours or at the club tonight? I’ll do anything you want.”

  “Will you really do anything I want?”

  Seeing an opening, he eagerly said, “Yes. Wherever and whenever. We can start slowly and then—”

  “Take off all your clothes.”

  “What?” He lurched backward, surprised by her request. “Here?”

  “Already you go back on your word.” Her voice was crisp, sharp, and frigid, like ice.

  “No, I’m not… I mean yes, sure. Okay.” He unbuttoned his suit jacket.

  “Hurry up. We don’t have all day.” She rose to stand behind her desk.

  Tossing his jacket onto a chair, he hastily undid his waistcoat and tie. He yanked his shirt over his head after undoing only two buttons. He stopped then, assuming she just wanted to embarrass him, to give him a little payback.

  His eyes followed her as she moved from behind the desk, her black robe billowing as she stalked toward him.

  She ogled his bare chest, and he endured a novel sensation. Their roles had reversed—she had become the huntress, and for the first time in his life, he was the prey.

  He tightened his pectorals, abs, and biceps. Might as well give her something worthwhile to look at.

  She circled him slowly, her gaze roaming his whole body but pausing on his erection, obvious in his pants. She looked beautiful and strong and determined.

  But why wasn’t she also removing her clothes?

  She walked to the door, and his anxiety spiked. Was she planning to humiliate him? To open the door so the clerks could see him standing there without his shirt?

  What if she claimed sexual harassment?

  His breath stalled, and he fought the urge to physically stop her.

  “Come on,” she chided. “Off with your trousers and underwear.” She placed her hand on the doorknob and leveled a challenging stare at him. In her most officious court elocution, she grilled him, “Were you or were you not sincere in your desire to make reparations to the offended party?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “No buts. Take off your clothes.”

  Was he really willing to risk everything?

  That question played in both their minds as they stood facing one another, locked in challenge, the air bristling around them. It seemed an eternity to him but was probably mere seconds.

  She looked flushed—but with desire or anger, he couldn’t tell. Did she want him, or did she only want to get even? She demanded his total surrender, and at the same time, she held his career in her hands. The only thing he knew for certain was, in order to prove his sincerity, he would have to trust her.

  He took a deep breath. With the frightening jolt of someone jumping off a cliff, he kicked off his shoes and yanked off his remaining clothes in a rush. It was done—the decision made and carried out in seconds.

  Stark naked with his cock on full display, and only one turn of the door handle away from humiliation and ruin—he’d never felt this exposed in his whole life.

  Her gaze flicked down.

  She grinned.

  Again, the prickly sensation of being hunted grazed his psyche—both unsettling and arousing at the same time. Her eyes scorched him, and, unable to control it, his cock twitched, growing harder and jutting higher.

  She gave him a wicked smile and a wink. Then her warm wet tongue slid out to languidly lick her lips.

  He groaned, his hands clenching into fists.

  “Mmm,” she murmured, but gave no other outward sign of what she was thinking or planning.

  Breathing erratically, he couldn’t seem to fill his lungs with enough oxygen. Light-headed and dizzy, he watched her inspect him. Under her hot gaze, his cock jerked again and again, pulsing and insistent. He feared he might blow right then in front of her. Both he and his body were now slaves to her will.

  Then, finally, her hand still resting on the doorknob, she casually checked the lock, making sure the room was secure. Turning, she walked over to the windows and shut the blinds.

  His breath whooshed out—his relief immediate and overwhelming. He hadn’t even realized he’d been holding his breath.

  They were going to make love!

  Elation filled him like helium, making him light and buoyant. He would soon be holding her in his arms, kissing her senseless, and then—

  He started toward her.

  “Stop! Right where you are.” Her hand shot out to warn him off.

  He hesitated, confused.

  She smiled at him—like a hungry cat smiling at a mouse.

  “Get on your knees.” Although quietly spoken, unyielding determination bolstered her command, like steel rods inside concrete. She meant business.

  He didn’t move.

  “Now.”

  It unnerved him, this role reversal, but he wanted her so badly he would have agreed to almost anything. He went down, and the peculiar sensation of his naked knees on the cold stone floor sent a shiver up his spine.

  But she wasn’t satisfied. “I think you know the position I want you in.”

  His addled, aroused brain began to understand the game she was playing. She must have paid close attention at the club or done some internet research. Clever girl!

  But he wasn’t sure he could he do it. His competitive, alpha-male drive fought against the very idea.

  Could he give up control t
o her?

  Compelling himself to act, he slowly molded his body into the required posture—one he’d seen many times in the club dungeons. After rising onto all fours, he sat back on his heels and held his spine ramrod straight. He placed both arms behind his back to grasp his hands together and tilted his head subserviently down. Lastly, he forced himself to spread his thighs as far apart as they would go, exposing his genitals.

  Only his twitching, jutting cock stood out in defiance of submission.

  He hated how defenseless the position made him feel. His body trembled against the need to jump to his feet to take control of the game. Take control of her.

  “Mmm.” Approval rang in her timbre.

  He kept his gaze respectfully lowered. He heard soft sounds and wanted to know what she was doing. He played his submissive part well…until the whooshing sound of silk falling on the floor made him inadvertently glance up.

  He stopped breathing. Completely stopped. He could stare at the magnificent woman standing before him for an eternity and it wouldn’t be enough.

  “Keep your eyes down, slave,” she snapped. “I don’t want to punish you any more than already necessary.”

  He obeyed, dropping his eyes, but it was too late—he’d seen her!

  Tori’s gloriously lewd image would be forever emblazoned in his memory. He groaned. Beyond simply aroused, she’d lit him on fire, and it seared him in a vortex of white-hot lust.

  “You’re the hottest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen,” he groaned out.

  “Silence!”

  He closed his mouth, but his mind screamed, Justice Victoria Whittingstall is a Dominatrix!

  He salivated, thinking about her nipples, which were pushed up over the top of a tight black leather basque. She wore no knickers at all, the tuft of her blond thatch peeking out beneath the bottom point of the corset. Completing her guise, she wore thigh-high black boots on sky-high heels.

  Bloody fuckin’ hell!

  Had she been wearing that under her robes all morning?