Ticket to Temptation Page 12

  “And?” I asked.

  Her smile faded. She shook off my hand and took a gulp of her wine. She moved a few feet from me before turning and facing me. Her generous body quivered with tension. I simply raised an eyebrow and waited. She glared. I loved it. She threw back that magnificent mane of hair.

  “Fine, if you must know, I don’t want to think about what I’m doing. And before you ask doing what, because I can just tell you’re going to, I don’t want to think about having sex.”

  Now that one took me by surprise. Men want to think about nothing else but having sex. I guess I just assumed women did as well. Not that I would know. None of the women I’d known wanted to talk about sex. Now money, position, power, those were things they loved to talk about, but never sex. I watched her fidget with her wine, curious.

  “Why wouldn’t you want to think about having sex while having sex?”

  “Because whenever I think about what I want, how far I might be willing to go…it scares me. There are names for women like that.”

  I could barely hear her in the silence of the room. I crossed over and took the wine glass from her hand. Her heaving breasts were just inches from my chest, and I yearned to hold their heft in my hands. Control yourself. All in good time. Right now I was happy to let my engine idle while I took Logan’s measure.

  “And force helps how?”

  “If you force me, I’m not responsible.” She tensed even more, and for a split second, I was sure she was going to leave. Then she leaned forward as the fight overtook her flight response. Heat radiated through me as her breasts swelled against my chest. My cock bolted to attention. I focused on breathing evenly. I wasn’t about to let the little vixen know just how much she was getting to me.

  “And what does force look like?”

  She deflated just a little. “I haven’t the foggiest idea.” Then she perked up. “But I bet you do.”

  So, she wanted to play.

  “Are you willing to do whatever I say?”

  She stiffened. Everything about her body language screamed, “that depends.” Suddenly, for me, it was all or nothing. We were here in this incredibly erotic house: just her, me, and raw nature. We might never have a chance like this again. She either trusted me, or this ended now. My heart tripped as a beat stretched to infinity. She sucked in a breath. The relentless storm stilled, and so did she. Although she didn’t move, everything softened. Yes.

  “Yes.” The word whispered across my ear.

  “Yes, what?”

  She squared those graceful shoulders. “Yes, Daniel, I’ll do whatever you say.” This time her voice was a little firmer, a little more determined.

  I took her hand and led her to the chaise lounge in front of the fire. I admired her firm curves, her round edges, the essence of her femininity. I stepped back.

  “Take off your gown.”

  Watching me, she slowly stepped out of it and stood in naked splendor. I gestured toward the lounge. She lay back on it, legs demurely resting one against the other. I sat in the chair opposite.

  “Reach between your legs and touch yourself.”

  There was only one word to describe the look that came across her face…dumbfounded. I almost laughed.

  I leaned forward and spread her legs apart. Lacing my fingers over hers, I guided her hand toward the thick thatch of groomed hair framing the swell of swollen labia. A small moan escaped as I pressed her hand between her legs. She was soaking wet. I sat back.

  “Show me what you like.”

  She moaned and arched, just a little. I watched the emotions dart like fireflies across her face. Desire was winning. She bowed her head, moaned again, and spread her legs wider. Slowly, she slid two fingers over her clitoris. On the third or fourth pass, it came out of hiding. Her slick moisture glistened as she painted over that deep-red pearl begging for my attentive care.

  I reached over and traced through the moisture, shadowing the movement of her hand. Suddenly, I knew what I had to do. I knew what she needed. I slid down beside her, sinking two fingers into her moist depths.

  “Let go, give yourself to me,” I whispered in her ear. She reared and relaxed, not total submission, but something very close to it. Her hand went slack and slid to her side. Her legs parted even further, her breath ragged as her body surged into the magic my fingers worked on her clit, her cunt. I slid those fingers over, under, around, down, and through. She lunged. She moaned. I slipped the other hand under the swell of her breast. She arched, rigid with desire. She groaned. She writhed. She ran to the edge of the cliff. She couldn’t jump over.

  I closed my eyes, transfixed in that moment in time. There had to be something I could do to make her come. And once again, that certainty hit me. I knew what she needed. But what if you’re wrong? I banished all doubts. I refused to let anything take me out of the moment.

  With my left hand, I secured her wrists above her head. She twisted and arched into me. I marveled at each emotion that danced across her face, everything from raw lust to despair as she reached for a prize that seemed just beyond her reach. I moved even closer and let my dancing fingers do their magic, her moans pushing me to see just how far I could take her. As I watched her struggle to succumb, my lust entwined with hers.

  “I love watching you. You can’t come, not yet. I haven’t had enough.”

  She relaxed incrementally with each murmur.

  “Of course, when I do let you come, I have a very special prize for you.” I rammed two fingers up her ripe cunt, pressing into her G-spot. “You are so beautiful. I could watch you all night.”

  I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but with a soft sigh, she opened up even more and went limp. The change from gulping breath to barely breathing was most disconcerting…and fascinating. I accepted the best gift I’d ever received. This woman unfolded herself for me, opened herself to me—not completely, but enough for now. I needed to find the trigger that would allow her to fire the bullet. I tightened my grip on her wrists and continued to murmur in her ear.

  “Logan, give yourself to me. I’ve watched you. I’ve wanted you. I need you.”

  She reared up against me, almost toppling me, which would have been no small feat given my size.

  “Quiet now. Be still.” I kept my voice soft with a knife edge of firmness. She stilled instantly. Oh God, this woman was my wet dream come true. I looked down at her lovely face. Her eyes were so tightly shut, worry lines formed between her brows. I would have this woman release to me or die trying.

  “I want you to listen, Logan. Don’t think, just listen. Your hands are tied to the bed, and you are blindfolded. You can’t move. You have no choice but to surrender. You could resist, but you know resistance is futile. If you don’t obey, I’ll punish you. You’re beautiful, and this is just the way I want you.”

  I kept murmuring in her ear interspersing suggestions and commands with flattery and praise, paying particular attention to what made her tense and what made her relax. I soon discovered it best to stick to the scenario. Praise made her tense as if she couldn’t think of herself as anything other than the cold fish Greg had convinced her she was. I would need time to change that.

  Her juices saturated my hand as I kept up the steady pressure applied to her clit. She arched into my hand like a statue until she couldn’t hold it anymore, then her hips relaxed back on the bed. She arched again.

  “Logan.” I barked her name like a command. She went even more rigid if that was possible. “You are not to come. This is my time. If you come before I tell you, I’ll punish you. Do you understand?”

  She arched even higher. She kept her eyes tightly shut, but the worry lines disappeared. She resumed the deep, ragged breaths.

  “If you come, I’ll take you over my knee and spank your ass raw.”

  She bucked and reared. I thrust three fingers deep inside her cunt, using my thumb to work her clit.

  “Do. Not. Come.”

  She stopped breathing. Her body arched off the bed as
her cunt convulsed around my hand. She collapsed. The tremors running through her drew nine point five on the Richter scale.

  As her shudders softened to quiescence, I watched her, captivated. There was so much to discover about this woman, so much to explore. How had I not seen it all these years? Her skin was flawless, a gorgeous shade of deep caramel that no tanning machine could ever replicate. Much as she disputed this, she was not overweight; she had just enough flesh to soften the sharp edges. This woman was in great shape. Fine ankles and small, narrow feet highlighted shapely thighs and calves. I traced through soft black curls adorning the jewel of her womanhood before sliding my hand over the soft round curves of her stomach.

  I dropped a light kiss on the cute button of her innie. To my shock and chagrin, she curled into a tight ball and wept.

  Chapter 15

  Logan

  I shattered, like shards of glass, sharp and jagged spiraling into a universe where nothing existed but intense pleasure. I knew shame in my utter depravity. Part of me felt stripped bare in front of him, with him. Something about him—or maybe it was this house—brought out the worst—and the best—in me.

  Just when I thought the anguish couldn’t get any worse, Daniel left. He just got up and left me lying there, exposed. Just like a man. Yet he wasn’t like every man, and let’s face it I’d have run for the hills if I’d faced this blubbering mass of indecision and uncertainty.

  My soul raged in a dilemma like the eternal storm raging outside. I folded in on the tumult, and every piece of me wound itself into an even tighter ball. Lids sewed tightly shut with shame and fear of how far I was willing to go. I dropped down into the crest of each wave of revulsion trying to make sense of it all. Attempting to make sense of who I was, who I was becoming.

  A flush of adrenaline swept through me when the blanket dropped over me. I pulled it tightly around me. A cocoon to hold me, to hide me from this man who could see right into my soul. He lay down behind me and pulled me into his warmth. I came undone; my sobs now harsh gasps as I fought for air. Large, strong fingers brushed the hair from my sodden face. I pushed deeper into the blanket. He pressed a wad of tissues into my clenched hand.

  “I… I…”

  “Shhhh.” Just that one word as he rocked me.

  I could not allow myself to love this man, any man. I was done with that. Yet, I wanted to be with this man more than I’d wanted anything in my life. His polished corporate exterior hid rooms full of treasure, and only he held the key. Somehow I knew he would give me that key if I asked for it. I didn’t know how or even if I should. Who was I? What did I want?

  I sobbed so hard my chest hurt, and I could hardly breathe, but I couldn’t stop. And all the while, Daniel held me. Rocked me. Stroked my hair. Eventually, the sobs tore everything from me, and I fell asleep.

  I woke curled into him, resting my head on his chest. He lay with arms encircling me, so quiet and still I thought he’d fallen asleep. And there was that magnificent chest, still clad in the black tee that wrapped around him like a second skin.

  I tried to wiggle out from under the dead weight of his arm, resisting the urge to run my hands over his forearms, to feel the firm muscle, the smooth leather of his skin. The arm tightened, and I looked into twin pools of still blue water reflecting nothing but concern. He dropped a kiss on top of my head.

  “You ready to talk?”

  “No.” I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the lounge, clutching the blanket around my nakedness. “I don’t even know what’s wrong. I’m so sorry.”

  “No sorries. What do you need?”

  “Time.” I shivered as he ran his hand down my back.

  “Take all the time you need.”

  I scurried out of the room and fled to my bedroom. After cleaning up and changing into my jeans and sweater, I pulled the journal out of my bag and did what writers do. I sat at the desk and vomited my incoherent thoughts all over the pages.

  I learned good girls don’t like sex… Aching for his big, hard cock… Cover up my shame… Slept in underwear so I wouldn’t touch myself… Sex keeps your husband happy; you won’t like it… Men don’t marry sluts…

  When my hand cramped and there was nothing left to say, I stopped writing. I wasn’t sure what I’d accomplished, but I felt much better. At least now I had a grip on the war that waged within my mind. Did I want to be the type of woman who was a wife or a mistress? I already was the epitome of the perfect wife living the socially accepted, picture-perfect life, a cauldron of misery brewing beneath the surface. This man had opened the door to temptation. If I crossed the threshold, who would I become? I might reveal all my hidden desires, and it frightened me.

  As I stretched, I saw a tea service sitting on the table, pot nestled in a large cozy. Beside it sat an open letter.

  My dearest Anais,

  I have been thinking of my submissive, sexy, and insatiable mistress these days. Would that my business brings me back into her waiting arms before another moon passes. She is truly one of the most highly-charged sexual creatures I have known. She not only submits to all my demands but at the same time, hesitates only a little, as she likes to be forced into it for her sake and knows I like to force her to submit.

  She is the perfect dichotomy of having an intense desire to be played with, used, teased, demeaned, objectified, tortured, and restrained while feigning the role of the demure innocent who is powerless to resist the desire of her lover. I love her all the more for demonstrating her love for me as so strong; she would do anything to please me. You are she, and I want you for my wife…

  My breath quickened as I flipped to the last page. It was signed: To be continued. To my love. Edward. My gaze skipped to the paragraph above this simple declaration of his love.

  ‘Master and Mistress’

  “I won’t punish you very much,” the master said lifting her chin. “It was just a little offense and your first after all. But my mistress, to confess the truth, I shall love punishing you.” The master went on to say, “You are mine. And you won’t find me such a hard master. Only a very thorough master. When you think night and day and every moment in between of pleasing me, we will become one in our mutual need. It is only the beginning! You may think I’ve made you my mistress, but I’ve only started. The day will come when you will be truly mine, and these first lessons—and pleasures—will seem like nothing. I am truly yours in anticipation. The best is yet to come.”

  Daniel. My mind moaned his name as I dropped the letter into my lap. A flickering spark of hope burst into full flame. Obviously, this Edward preferred Anais’s wanton ways. Maybe, just maybe, Daniel had inherited this trait. Was it his way of challenging me, testing me? Did he know my inner thoughts? Even more than I knew myself? I sipped the last of my tea, resolve taking a firm hold of my inhibitions and fears. I went in search of Daniel.

  I found him reading, stretched out in the large leather chair sitting in the corner of what was quickly becoming my favorite room, the library. The smile that tugged at the edge of those delicious lips sent shock waves of desire barreling through me. I stopped about a foot in front of him and simply looked, drinking in this magnificent man who wanted me.

  I undid the string of small pearl buttons on my sweater and spread it open, rushing to undress before I changed my mind. He stood, stilled my hands, and took a long look. Every nerve ending in me screamed to cover my nakedness.

  “You truly have the beauty of an angel.”

  “But, I…” I bit my lip to stop babbling out my nervousness.

  He shook his head and put a finger to my lips. “You are perfect, and I don’t want to hear another word otherwise.”

  I bowed my head while he watched me. A whirlpool of thoughts spiraled around my head: Would I be any good at this? Would I be good enough? Would he try kinky sex? Would it hurt? Would I like it? Yes. A blush flooded through me. Tramp!

  “Stop that… Now!” His voice was soft yet rock-solid firm. He pushed my shoulders back as they
drooped forward to hide my shame.

  “I—”

  “What do you want from me, Logan?”

  I bowed my head, letting my hair curtain my crimson face. He pushed it back and held the sides of my face, forcing me to look at him. He seemed to see into all the insecure, inhibited nooks, recognize them, and uncover them with his steady regard.

  “Nothing.” I dropped my eyes, shielding them from the intensity of his gaze. It wasn’t so much a lie as an acknowledgment that I hadn’t even admitted to myself specifically what I wanted from him.

  Sparks flew as one of the logs dropped into the blazing fire. The scent of burning red oak filled the air, intensifying the subtle scent of Daniel’s manhood. Full lips throbbed between my thighs and my vagina clenched tight. He waited, staring down at me with that crooked half smile crinkling the corner of his eyes.

  “Look at me.” The strength of his voice left little room to argue. “What do you want from me?” Quiet intensity filled his voice.

  The heat of embarrassment surged through me. “I… I want you.” Mortified and wired with sensual electricity, I managed to choke out the words.

  “You want me how?”

  His tone was playful, and I was sure I could see mischief dancing in his eyes. I stared at him, stupefied. Didn’t he know I didn’t talk about stuff like this? Couldn’t he just get on with it? That would be too easy. He was forcing me to take the next step. I had to admit to myself I wanted him to fuck me, and I wanted him to fuck me hard. My nose wrinkled automatically as the f-word popped into my mind, but I liked the flavor of it in my mouth.

  He nodded as awareness surged through me. He arched a thick blond eyebrow. Ravenous hunger obliterated everything but my need to have that long, thick cock inside me. Right now. I wanted to pull him to me, devour those lips, feel the heat of his lean hard body. I bit my lip.

  “I want you inside me.” I could barely hear myself.