“Elizabeth Scott, manipulation is definitely your forte. Of course we’ll come. I’m sure it will be fabulous and I’ll be very pleased to look at the backside on that divine man of yours for a few days.”
Oh my god, the woman is disturbed. I’m positive eyeing up your daughter’s boyfriend is unacceptable. What on earth she’s going to do when Conner gets in the room too is quite worrying. Perhaps we should invite Pascal as well because that would definitely would make her Christmas. Actually, I’m not convinced even I could handle that amount of testosterone, which reminds me of the Alex/Pascal situation that we still haven’t talked about since he gave me a building and then nonchalantly told me to have my way with his friend.
I need to talk to him about that, soon.
I can’t even deny that I’m interested because I know I am. Who wouldn’t be with those intoxicating green eyes? What the hell does that mean about me, or about my relationship with Alex? Clearly I have no bloody idea at all.
“Okay, Mum, that’s brilliant news. I’ll let Alex know and get back to you about details and stuff nearer the time.”
My heart’s not in the conversation anymore. Alex is slamming things around in the background and a pair of vivid green eyes have now distracted me to the point of no return.
“Lovely, darling, now I don’t have to stick my hand up a turkey’s-”
“Bye, Mum, love you,” I cut across her, seriously not wanting to talk about anything in arses when Pascal is still floating around in my brain with his devious fingers working alongside Alex’s. My brain is obviously delivering far too many interesting visions for me to even begin to cope with so I hit the end call button and exhale a long breath.
Another loud crashing noise comes from the study so I suck in a breath and wander towards the noise. All the delivery drivers and the woman seem to have disappeared and apart from the swearing and slamming, the house seems to have gone eerily quiet. I grip onto the doorframe and lean my head around to take a peek at what I’m dealing with, and oh god there he is. He seriously should not be allowed to exist. Every time I see him, my breathing becomes redundant.
He’s standing behind his desk, one hand fingering the keys on his laptop, the other holding his phone to his ear, his mouth moving around every snarled word he’s uttering. I have no idea what he’s saying because I literally can’t function enough to focus on words. He’s simply too damn sexy for coherent thought and that angry frown is just causing all sorts of other salacious imagery to invade every corner of my mind. After last night’s explosion of sex and emotion, I can only describe myself as a wanton hussy. He was everything a man should be, soft, gentle, open, honest and then aggressive beyond belief as he reminded himself and me exactly who and what he is. My inner slut and me clearly want more of the same again because I simply can’t stop my very sore bits tightening for another opportunity.
He opens a file to the left of him and scowls at something written within it then turns for the window and stands there looking out at the garden, hand in pocket, pulling his trousers tight across his arse and highlighting those muscular legs very successfully. His broad shoulders are accentuated by a waistcoat leading to that very tight midsection and that six-pack that I love so much. Then of course, what’s actually hiding in his trousers, thick, beautiful, hard and damned aggressive in its nature. Oh good lord, I could explode just looking at him and my core reminds me of that by clenching very dramatically again, causing my knees to buckle a little.
Most women would be afraid of this moment. They would retreat and let him calm down before they entertained the idea of letting him rid himself of his angst, but apparently not me. No, my fingers are itching for him, to give him his release and offer myself up for him, to take his aggression and turn it into something more powerful for us, something so mind blowing that I’ll never forget him, never leave him, never even think about it because he has everything I need and he couldn’t ever do anything bad enough for me to not want him. He’s mine and I’m his, and there’s no more to say on the matter.
Where the hell Pascal fits in is mystifying, but we’ll work that out at some point, I’m sure.
I wander across to him and wrap my hands tentatively around his waist from behind, hoping for a good reaction. I couldn’t care less if he’s rough as long as he doesn’t dismiss me. His anger doesn’t scare me; it’s his refusal to show emotion that does. His hand gently lands on mine as he continues his swearing and cursing into the phone. It’s as if he’s body is with me but his mind is with the person on the phone. Well, if that’s the case, I suppose I could use his body wisely so I drop my hands down to see how interested he is in release. Apparently he’s very interested as I curl my hands around the hard length of him and rub slowly. He doesn’t move, just lets my fingers continue wandering while he covers my hand with his and forces my pressure on him a little more.
My feet seem to let my brain know that I want him in my mouth because I’m walking around the front of him and unbuttoning his fly before I’m even aware of it, dropping down onto my knees and grabbing hold of his glorious cock so that I can lick and suck my way around it greedily. His fingers are in my hair, tipping my head up towards him so that he can watch me with his darkened blue eyes while he still talks, or rather argues, into that damned phone. My tongue swirls around him and I feel the first reaction of dominance as he grips my head harder and pushes himself as far down my throat as he can.
His breathing hitches a little as his brow furrows, probably at a question he’s been asked. I smile around him and continue with my deep sucking, just the way he likes it. Lifting my hand to his balls, I caress them around each other and squeeze a little until I notice his thigh muscles tensing. His cock begins jumping in my mouth so I start dragging my teeth back along him and licking the precum off his head. His low rumble and flexing fingers let me know exactly where he’s heading. Add that to the fact that he’s now beginning to tremble in my hands and I can’t help but tease some more.
I withdraw and run my tongue across him until I reach his balls and then flick and tongue my way around them. His sharp tug on my hair lifts me back towards his length as he pushes his way back into my mouth. Jesus, even without talking the man can force me to do what he wants. I take him as deep as I can get him and then swallow, hitting him with the back of my throat and that added pressure.
“Fuck it,” comes growling down at me as I see him throwing the phone on the floor so he can lean on the wall in front of him. “Christ, I love watching you do that. Suck me harder, deeper.” He grunts while steadily beginning to fuck my mouth. So I do, each delicious mouthful ending at my throat every time I push that bit more to accommodate him. His speed starts to increase as his balls rise in my hand and his movements become more erratic. I’m so hungry for him that I let my teeth engage a little as I increase the suction to taste that warm salty flavour. I’m suddenly desperate for him to come. I want to know that I’ve given him the release he needed, that I took his turmoil and turned it into something pleasurable for him.
“Fuck baby, take it, swallow,” he growls as he stills and then erupts into my mouth. His salt laden cum coats the back of my throat and I keep sucking until the last of it pumps into me. His body recoils as I pull hard one last time to keep his ecstasy going. “Shit, stop. Oh Christ, that’s...” he stutters on a shaky breath as he forces his thumb into my mouth to release my hold of him then caresses my jaw with his hand, trying to regain his breathing.
I watch him with a grin of ridiculous proportions and mentally slap myself on the back for a job very well done. His face is slackened and he’s got that soft, warm smile going on that tells me he’s extremely well sated. Go me!
“Better?” I ask with a giggle as I look into his eyes and see that beautiful smile light up his face.
“You are entirely too good at that,” he says, still panting.
“Well I’m glad you liked it,” I reply with a wink. “I thought you needed to calm down a little.”
&n
bsp; “That was a very important phone call. I should spank the living shit out of you for interrupting my discussions,” he says as he grips my chin. Okay.
“Go on then,” I reply as I get up and stretch my legs. This kneeling thing really is hard work. Lord knows how these real submissive women do it all the time.
“What?” He looks incredulous, as if I’ve shocked the hell out of him.
“Spank me, whatever you want,” I say nonchalantly as I clench my thighs in anticipation of what I might get, but he’s in a good mood so it’ll be fine. I hope.
“Are you goading me, Miss Scott?” And now that damned eyebrow is up, his eyes sparkling mischievously so I narrow mine a little. I may have just given him a bit more permission than I was expecting he’d want.
“Anything to get your mind off work and on me. It is Sunday after all,” I reply as I wander towards the door.
“My mind’s always on you,” he says as he buttons his trousers, saunters across to the desk and closes his laptop.
“Really? It wasn’t fifteen minutes ago. I thought we were doing Christmassy things.” Apparently I’ve gone into stupid mode, or at least willing for anything mode.
“I can’t believe you’re tempting me into this. What do you want, Miss Scott? Are you feeling neglected?” he says as he stares me down with those narrowing eyes. I can almost feel his brain working out some very dastardly plan. Hopefully it will have something to do with a teaspoon.
“Very.” And why the hell I’ve just pushed him further is beyond me but I do like my little moment of empowerment around him so I smile sweetly and put my hands on my hips.
“I can rectify that. Where would you like to start? Are you aching for something?” he asks as he moves toward me, slowly. I suddenly have no idea what’s coming.
“Well, now that you mention it, you appear to have gotten off okay.” Idiot, Beth. This could get a little rough. I brace my feet to the floor and hope the playfulness in his eyes keeps coming, not that I’d mind it rough obviously, but I would like him to stay with me at the very least.
“You’re being very demanding, Miss Scott. Perhaps you’re ready for something a little more fulfilling. I think maybe it’s time to take you back to Eden.”
What? That was not expected - forced to the shelves maybe, some kinkiness with a whip or something similar definitely. I’m comfortable with that, obviously, more than comfortable, actually, but Eden? Really? Which of course means Pascal. Does he know I’ve been thinking about it or is he just pushing me like he said he would?
“Oh…” It’s all I’ve got. It seems I can’t even form words.
“Quite.” And he’s loving my discomfort, an arrogant smile plastered on his face, blue eyes staring straight into me and refusing to let me escape from thoughts of his equally devious friend. Bastard.
“Umm...” My own power seems to have abandoned me at the mere thought. Scared almost to death seems more appropriate at the moment.
“Is that what you want, Miss Scott? Are you ready to play a bit harder?” he says as he rolls his sleeves up and effectively highlights those strong forearms and those hands that are still made for butchery, mine presumably, and now he wants to add another pair to the party.
“Ummmm…” It’s still the only pathetic word I have, just a bit longer this time.
“Not quite so forward now? Are you losing your nerve, Miss Scott? You told me you were ready for me.” He’s stalking closer now. I swear the man could make a jaguar look like an amateur at cat and mouse. I edge backwards a little towards the door, which causes his eyebrow to rise again in challenge. I don’t know why I’m bothering because I know he’s going to win; he always catches me.
“Yes, I am. It’s just I’m not sure how this works and you know I’ve never done that sort of thing and I’m not entirely sure what you expect me to do with...” I can’t even say his name, green eyed monster, assuming that’s what he’s talking about. Is it? Maybe he didn’t mean that and now I’ve let him know I’ve been thinking about it and... Oh god, I’m so screwed.
“Expect you to do with what, Elizabeth? Or maybe you mean whom?” I swallow. What the hell do I say to that? “Do tell me what it is that you’re assuming here?”
“I... Uh... Well, you said that... You know... And I’m not sure how I feel about any of that yet.”
It’s ridiculous, I know, but honestly how does one talk about threesomes casually? And frankly, there is nothing casual about either of them, or dare I say it the pair of them together.
“Have you been thinking about it enough? Have you wound yourself up to the thought of his hands on you again? Did it feel good to be at his mercy, Elizabeth?”
And how the sodding hell do I answer that one safely? He might explode at me, or be hurt, or be jealous, but he wouldn’t be asking me these things if he didn’t want the truth, would he? And this was all his idea, wasn’t it? I look to the floor. He doesn’t like to share. He told me to think hard about that before he put me in a room with Pascal. I still don’t know what that means but I’m pretty sure he’ll need to know that he’s the most important person in the room. “Is there something interesting on the floor, Elizabeth?” Arsehole.
I’m utterly exasperated with what I’m supposed to say next so my brain eventually gives up and goes with honesty.
“I have no idea what you want me to say, Alex.” Because I seriously don’t. I have no way of understanding the dynamics of this sort of thing, or the after affects for that matter.
“What do you want to say?” he replies as he moves away from me with a smirk and sits in a chair. He gestures to the other chair so I cross the room and tuck my feet up under me as he continues to amuse himself with my reaction. “Tell me what you find so confusing.” Okay, I’m continuing with honesty, I might as well, given the topic.
“I don’t want to hurt you, or me, or us,” I eventually reply, having gazed at his still amused expression. His head tilts at my response and a frown crosses his features.
“You think that me letting you fuck Pascal will hurt me?”
God, I wish he would be a little more pleasant about it. Mind you, maybe that’s the point. To him, sex is simply that - sex. I really need to understand his disconnect with the act in itself, or hopefully his previous disconnect with it.
“Well, yes.” Can’t he see that? Or is this normal for him? Perhaps it is, given he’s never been in love before. My eyes drift to the floor again in complete confusion. I could never allow him to sleep with another woman in front of me so why does he find it acceptable the other way round?
“Do you love him?” My eyes instantly widen as I suck in a breath. Really? Does he think that?
“God, no.” He chuckles and his smirk returns as he reaches out for the decanter of Cognac and pours two glasses.
“Well why do you think it would hurt me then?” he asks as he places one beside me and sips at his own nonchalantly as if this is a perfectly normal conversation. It’s not - well, at least not for me. I need some answers.
“You said you didn’t like to share. I’ve seen you jealous. I don’t want that again. You’re more than enough for me, but you seem to want me to have sex with him and I don’t understand it at all because I definitely don’t want to see you with another woman. This is not normal relationship behaviour, Alex. Most men wouldn’t be okay with this sort of thing at all.” His panty-dropping smile is almost enough for me to rip my clothes off and jump on him. His finger moves around the rim of his glass as he licks his lips and gazes across at me.
“I never said I was normal.” Well, no. Clearly not, but we are trying for a relationship.
“I know, but this is... I don’t know what this is, but I-” He cuts me off with an arrogant chuckle and a wave of his butchering hand.
“You’re still thinking too much, Elizabeth. I want to see you pleasured in every way and I’m honest enough to admit to what I am. I want to watch you fall into yourself and experience every sensation available. If I can offer that
to you then why would I refuse it you? And I don’t want another woman. If I ever do, it will be for your benefit, not mine,” he says, crossing his legs. My benefit? Really?
I think not. I’m absolutely not interested in that, but at least I sort of understand his reasoning for Pascal now. What I don’t understand is how he can separate his jealousy.
“But he’s another man...” Even I think that sounds ridiculous. Clearly he is. I can’t even finish the sentence. Stupid Beth.
“Obviously, and quite depraved, but nevertheless I trust him. And besides, he won’t be the dominant man in the room. He never is.”
Right, so here’s the crux of it. If I could begin to comprehend what the two of them are to each other then maybe I could find a way to do this comfortably. Are they lovers? He said not but there’s definitely something going on. Pascal is in love with him so what does the man actually mean to Alex? Apart from being a mentor and friend, that is, which is just not enough information at all.
“Okay, and that’s another thing… What have you two been up to before me and why are you comfortable with this around him but no one else?”
He gazes at me for a moment, his brow furrowing and releasing as if he’s trying to work out what to tell me, or maybe how much to tell me. His mouth parts to begin and I swallow at what I might hear. What if I don’t like it? Can I accept whatever it is he’s about to say? Clearly he’s far more experienced than me in the bedroom department, but how far does that go?
He once told me he wasn’t inclined to behave like a very decent dominant and that it had become restricting. Has Pascal had something to do with that? Made him behave inappropriately somehow? Not that I can ever see Alex doing something he wasn’t entirely in control of, and to be honest, I have no idea what a dominant really is. I only know him and how we are together, so is this normal?
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