Slowly, Alya turned around, her eyes hot and intense on him, and his body was on fire, overheating in all the layers of clothing. His blood pounded through him, an unrelenting chant. Mine. Mine. Mine. Henning swallowed. No matter what he felt, this was a game for her, and he wouldn’t forget it.
“Are you at all cold right now?”
She shook her head. Good. He wanted to kiss her, but he held back, knowing how easy it would be to lose himself the moment it began. Not yet.
“You’ve been watching me all day. Now I want to undress for you,” she said, her voice huskier. “And while I take my clothes off, I want you to stroke yourself. Pleasure yourself while you watch.”
“Fuck, yes,” he groaned as a shudder of pleasure rolled through him. Henning closed his eyes, pulling himself together. Then he slowed his breathing and looked at Alya again.
She smiled and took a step back. Another. Her eyelids were heavy, her dark lashes falling over the endless blue of her eyes, and her smile transformed into something so clearly seductive.
“You ever look at photos of me?” she said, her voice luring him into this game.
Holy hell. His body was already fully there, but his conscience was pricking at him. They were veering into murky territory, territory he had spent three years trying to resist: his fantasies about her, fantasies he shouldn’t have had about a client. So he had pushed them deep down, letting the frustration fuel his determination to protect her from afar. Until now.
She wanted them, and fuck, how he wanted to give her everything she asked for.
“Yeah, I looked,” he whispered, testing her reaction. “You like that?”
Her eyes lit up. “A lot.”
Oh, fuck, this was hot and dirty and so, so good, and she was asking for it. He reached his hand inside his thermals and his boxers and palmed his cock. Her eyes followed his movements, and her pulse ticked hard at the base of her neck.
Alya took the hem of her sweater and pulled it over her head, leaving her in a layer of tight, gray thermals. Her nipples poked out of the material, and she toyed with one. No bra. His cock was leaking, so he spread his precum on his palm and gave himself a stroke as he watched her pleasure herself.
“You ever get off thinking about me?” she whispered.
Shit. He shouldn’t admit to it, but this game was too tempting. “I tried not to,” he gritted out. “But, fuck, you get me so hard.”
She played with the hem of her thermal shirt, then slowly lifted it over her head. Henning braced himself against the wall and stroked himself hard. He was caught in a sea of lust, drowning. Her breasts were small, and her nipples, a delicate pink. He looked down at his hand, rough and big, crassly jacking himself as he watched the most achingly beautiful woman in the world strip. Just for him. Beauty and the beast. The contrast sent a dark swirl of lust and depravity through him. Did it turn her on, too?
“You want this hand on you?” he rasped, pulling down the waistband of his boxers, letting her see each rough jerk of his hand. “The one I use to make myself come when I jack off to you?”
Her mouth fell open a little, and for one long second, he thought he had gone too far. But just as a jolt of fear entered his system, a fear that despite his caution, he had stepped over the line, she smiled. It was a real smile that broke through their game, wide-eyed and full of wonder. Fuck, it was glorious.
Her expression turned seductive. “I like it a little dirty.”
The message echoed inside him, urging him on. Yes, she wanted this. She traced the curve of her body down, over her hips, her fingers inside her thermal bottoms. She lowered them, stepping out, and when she stood up, his cock jumped in his hand.
“Nude.” The word fell out of his mouth as he stared between her legs.
Alya’s real smile peeked through again. “Occupational hazard. Are you into that?”
Henning’s chuckle was a gritty rumble. “I’m into you, Alya. Everything about you.”
A hint of pink colored her cheeks, sending a stab of tenderness through him. It was almost as if she wasn’t used to hearing someone tell her how amazing she was. How was that possible? He resolved to tell her as many times as he could.
But right now, he was going to show her. His cock was weeping, as he looked at this beautiful woman in front of him.
“You gonna let me put my dirty mouth on that beautiful pussy?” he whispered, his voice rough. “You gonna give me a taste?”
“Yes,” she breathed. “Give me what I need.”
Give her what she needs. Don’t fuck it up.
Holy hell, that smile was going to bring him to his knees. It was soft, so private, a secret just for him. Now that he knew what it was like to have her all to himself, he could never go back to looking for her in a magazine. Not when he knew this.
“Christ, you’re lovely,” he whispered.
Her eyes fluttered closed, as if hearing these simple words had given her pleasure. Then she turned, glancing over her shoulder as she walked toward the bed. And, fuck, this woman knew how to walk for an audience. She knew how to make each slow sultry step a new promise. And this time, the promise was for him.
She climbed on the bed, her ass arched up to him. But she did this with a kind of effortless grace. It was nothing like the women he had fucked in the club, pretending to be someone else, just for that night. This was part of her. Alya lay down on her side, propping her head on her hand. “You coming?”
Henning nodded, but he didn’t move. Not yet. First, he needed to take in every bit of this moment, storing it away in his memory, saving it. In the years to come, he wanted to remember how this felt. When once, for a few short days, he had her all to himself.
There was no hesitancy in the way she lay there looking at him. He loved this confident, hot-as-hell side of her. And after watching her bloom from that dark place Nick had driven her into, he wanted this confidence to fill her until she was bursting at the edges with it. He was going to make sure this was for her.
Henning followed the curves of her body, along her thighs, over her hips, down the dip of her waist and over the curve of her pert tits, up the slim column of her neck, and finally, to her smile. Alya waited, lounging on the bed, watching him, her expression full of lazy desire, like they had all the time in the world. But the flush in her cheeks hinted at other possibilities. That she was aching for him, too.
“You are stunning,” said Henning, his voice a little hoarse. “It’s you, Alya, not just the way you look. It’s everything about you.”
She blinked at him with a hint of surprise. Her cheeks flushed, and then she smiled. “Then why are you still across the room?”
“I want to enjoy this part. When you look at me like it’s my mouth you want, no one else’s.” His voice dipped lower. “I want to savor it.”
Another sharp jolt of urgent lust shot through him, and he palmed his cock and gave that impatient bastard another rough stroke.
It had been so long since he had gone down on a woman. Years, despite how much he got off on it. Since that first kiss with Alya, he had been thinking about it. What would she like best? What would she sound like? Now, finally, finally, he would find out. And oh, God, how he ached to know.
He took one slow step, then another, watching each reaction from her, the parting of her lips, the quickening of her pulse as he came closer, closer. Henning pulled off his top and bottoms, but he left his boxers on. Then he knelt on the bed, one knee on one side of her, one knee on the other. She rolled onto her back, and he lowered himself onto his forearms until he could feel the heat of her skin under him. Until her quick breaths warmed his cheeks. Because beneath all this beauty was so much emotion. She had been burned. Nick had used her emotions against her, trying to manipulate her, to drive her back to him. What Henning could give her right now, on this bed, was a safe place to let that guard down and simply feel. And fuck, he had s
o many plans for how to make her feel.
He bent his head and pressed his lips to her pale, slim neck, exposed just for him. Heaven. He kissed her jaw and then her lips.
“You smell so fucking good,” he murmured, looking down at her.
“You do, too,” she whispered.
Then she wove her fingers into his hair, tugging his head down, guiding his lips to hers. The onslaught of sensations took over, washing through him as her lips melted onto his. Hungry strokes and sucks and nips...he couldn’t get enough. He was drowning again, lost in the drive to press his skin against hers, move his hard body against her soft curves, drive his cock into the heaven of her wet, tight pussy. To never let this end.
This last thought jolted him back to reality, and Henning pulled away.
“You’re distracting me,” he said with a heavy, low laugh. “I have other plans.”
“Plans that don’t involve kissing?” Her eyes were glassy, unfocused, and her voice, husky.
“Oh, baby.” Henning groaned. “There will definitely be kissing. Everywhere.”
He started with her collarbone. “Here,” he whispered, his mouth on her salty-sweet skin. He kissed a line down her chest, up the rise of her breast. “And here.” Her nipple was hard under his tongue, and she hissed out a breath as he took it between his lips. He cupped one breast with his hand and fit it in his mouth, sucking. His cock gave a kick, and he groaned and sucked harder. Oh, fuck, why did her perky little tits turn him on like they did? If he kept this up, he was going to come before she did. He ran his tongue over her nipple one more time and moved lower.
“You wet, baby?” he rasped, his lips on the soft skin of her belly.
“For you,” she whispered, sending another jolt to his cock.
Those two words made his heart stutter. For him. The scent of sex was everywhere, pulling him down her body, over her naked mound until finally, finally he was there. How many times had he imagined this, never once thinking that it could really happen? His cock was begging for attention, the insistent fucker, used to getting its share when he played through this scenario, but there was no way he was focusing on that. Because this was so achingly real. So he took another deep inhale and tasted.
* * *
Oh, God, his mouth. He was covering her with his mouth, worshipping her with it. Swirls of his tongue, little scrapes of his teeth, all working some kind of magic spell on her. He was a man of few words, but he definitely knew how to use his mouth when he wanted to. Never had she felt a man so intensely focused on her experience. It was as if this was the ultimate turn-on, the moment he had waited for, which...couldn’t be right, could it? But, ooooh, he certainly seemed intent on proving her wrong. He licked and groaned and licked again, like going down on her was getting him just as worked up as she was. With each grunt, coarse and guttural, he went in for more.
“You like my mouth?” he said, his lips, his breath teasing her.
“I love it,” she whimpered.
“You taste so fucking good.”
He sucked on her clit, sending her dangerously close to the edge. Her moans were loud, scraping her throat as they poured out, and they seemed to pour fuel on his fire.
“Christ,” he muttered, and one hand left her hip while the other slid between her legs.
She opened her eyes and looked down at him. One of his enormous hands was inside his boxers, and his eyes were closed, his teeth bared. Was he jacking off while going down on her? Holy hell, she didn’t realize this could get any hotter, but it just did. She shifted to get a better look at this quiet, restrained man as he gave himself over to a moment of pleasure.
But when she moved, his eyes snapped open, and a dark smile tugged at his mouth. “You like seeing me like this? All strung out on the taste of you, on the feel of you under my hands and my mouth?”
“God, yes.” The answer slipped off her lips. For once, she wasn’t worried about why she loved this or what it meant. She simply let go.
Then he pressed his mouth against her clit and slid two fingers inside her, taking over, filling her senses, erasing everything except the vision of him, pleasuring her like it was the only thing he had ever wanted.
Whatever you want from me. Take it.
His words came back as white streaks of heat exploded. Her orgasm rolled through her. It was too much. She was making sounds like a wounded animal, cries, whimpers as she came down. Henning growled, lapping at her, drawing out her pleasure. Just...bliss.
Finally Henning kissed her softly, almost tenderly. Then he rose up on his knees. His face was tight, strained, and his cock twitched in his boxers, leaving a wet circle where his tip pushed at the material. He heaved in breaths, the muscles on his chest rippling, his biceps tense. His hands flexed. And she knew exactly what he was holding himself back from doing.
“Do it,” she whispered.
Henning groaned and reached inside his boxers, pulling out his hot, thick erection. Whoa. She had felt it against her, but seeing his enormous cock was still a shock. His smile was dark as he gave himself a rough tug. “See how hard you make me?”
The hottest words were coming out of his mouth, and she loved it. Her hand moved to her clit instinctively as she watched his hand sliding up and down his huge erection.
He took her in once more, head to toe, and then he roared. He thrust, pointing his cock at her and came, came, came. A second orgasm ripped through her, her slick body shuddering, as she watched the ecstasy take over his features, his hips pumping. The room was filled with sharp gasps as they both stared, openmouthed, at her stomach, slick with his come. Henning looked even more shocked than she felt.
Alya’s mouth dropped open as ripples of pleasure still rolled through her. A burst of laughter bubbled up and came out, loud and sudden, and once it came, it didn’t stop. She covered her mouth, but it didn’t help. The laughter escaped in snorts. Henning’s eyes widened, and he stared at her like she was bat-shit crazy.
“I can’t believe that just happened,” she said between giggles. “That we did that.”
Henning’s eyes moved from hers to the ribbons of come and back to hers. He lifted his hand to his face, touching his scars with his fingers absently. Then he frowned. “That got way out of hand.”
“No. Don’t say that.” Alya shook her head quickly. “That was the most amazing thing I’ve ever done. So don’t you dare look at me like you regret it.”
He was still staring at her with a stunned look. “You’re really okay with it? Because I said a lot of things...”
Alya fell back onto the bed, chuckling. “I loved every one of them.” His forehead wrinkled, as if he couldn’t quite believe it, so she added, “I trust you, Henning. You have to trust me, too. It goes both ways.”
He stared at her some more, so she waited him out. Then, finally, his expression eased. “Okay. You’re right. But let me help clean you up.”
Something about his offering, the way he was looking at her, tugged at her heart. And she flashed to a scene of him following her into the shower, taking his time to clean her, to explore her body, all that intense focus—
No. Having him care for her like that would cross the line she had drawn for herself when they started. It would take them into more vulnerable territory, areas where she had failed spectacularly. Alya was so much stronger on her own, and with this newfound freedom, she’d traveled across the world for an amazing career opportunity and had just had the best sex of her life. There was no way she was going to tangle this up with her old baggage. She had watched her mother get sucked in by each new boyfriend or husband, and it never ended well. Alya had sworn to herself that she wouldn’t be involved with another man until she was sure she could stand on her own. Only then could she find something healthy, something real.
Alya forced herself to smile, to wave his offer off. “I’ll just take a shower.”
His expres
sion darkened, but she ignored another tug at her heart and climbed off the bed, heading for the bathroom. Once safely inside, she leaned against the door and closed her eyes. This was a game about attraction and wish-fulfillment, with clear boundaries around it. She couldn’t let herself cross them, no matter what Henning made her feel.
CHAPTER SIX
WHEN ALYA’S ALARM went off the next day, Henning was already up, showered and working on his laptop. He had been in the same place when she fell into bed. Judging from the last two nights, Henning definitely didn’t get enough hours of sleep. Was he always like that, or was it the job? She, on the other hand, had rambled, probably barely coherently, over the dinner he’d brought for her from the restaurant the evening before, and he seemed perfectly content just listening. Okay, she had been a little disappointed that he didn’t crawl into the narrow twin bed with her, even if his huge body would have taken up most of it.
Alya rolled over, stretched and sat up. Henning looked up from his laptop. His eyes traveled over her silky nightshirt, his expression impossible to read.
“Sleep okay?” His voice had that gravelly quality to it, contrasts of rough and gentle.
“After the hottest sex of my life, followed by a warm shower and food delivered to the room?” Alya laughed. “Um, yeah. I slept well.”
A hint of a smile teased at the right corner of his mouth. His eyes traveled over her once more, slower this time, heat seeping into his gaze.
“We have less than an hour until your day officially starts,” he said. “You want me to bring some breakfast to the room while you get dressed?”
“Mmm, thank you.” God, this man was amazing, more than—
Yikes. Don’t make this complicated, girl. She had hired him to support her...though he was giving her things that had nothing to do with the job. Alya rolled her eyes and told that little voice of doubt to shut up. Time to enjoy herself and the company of her super-sexy, brooding bodyguard.
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