Ticket to Temptation Page 13

  He let go of my face and stepped back.

  I blew it. I stared at the rug and let my hair once again become the curtain that hid my shame. Deck shoes became bare feet and the sound of a zipper, his zipper, made me peek. My mouth was so dry I could barely swallow as I watched Daniel slide out of his jeans. That glorious shaft stood erect, a salute and an invitation. He pulled a condom out of his pocket and dropped the jeans on top of his shirt and shoes. I watched unabashedly as he slowly rolled on the condom and sat in that big leather chair, looking at me.

  “Show me.”

  I shrugged out of my sweater and dropped my jeans, underwear, and shoes in a pile on the floor. I slowly walked over and stood in front of him. What now? Did I crawl over him? Awkward. I’d reached the lofty age of thirty-nine without ever having straddled a man, not even once. And he was so big. What if I couldn’t take him in? Suddenly, all I could think of was how I must look to him. How he must see all my rolls, all my flaws. “You look a bit like a cow, Logan.” Greg’s voice whispered from the shadows.

  “Logan… Don’t think, just do.” Daniel’s rich baritone vibrated through me bringing me to attention.

  I slid my knees onto the chair, cradling his muscular legs with mine. I sat back, resting my butt on his knees. Juices pooled between my legs as his pelt tickled my thighs. He didn’t touch me. My mouth watered as I grasped his hardness. I pulled up and slid over him, letting the mouth of my steamy wetness hover over the thick purple head that throbbed below me. I grasped his shoulder and slowly sank until his crown nested in my slick entrance. I moaned as the ache of his size and the joy of anticipation filled me.

  He licked his lips, still watching me as if I were a rare butterfly he never thought he’d add to his collection. I slid down a little farther, holding still as I adjusted to his size. Then with one deep breath, I buried him, to the hilt. I nearly cried out as the sweet sting shot through me. I clenched around him and took a few beats letting the sensation wash over me. I’d done it, and now he could take over. I opened my eyes. He looked back at me, eyes dark with desire telling me, You aren’t done yet.

  “Show me.”

  I braced myself against his shoulders and slithered up and down, enfolding and releasing inch by blessed inch. The flame grew to an inferno as I grew faint with longing, with need. I threw back my head and thrust, fast and furious, reveling in the wonder of his body. I panted as I embraced my carnal nature. I had ascended to heaven.

  Large firm hands grasped my hips and held me still.

  My eyes flew open in alarm. Daniel cupped my breasts, almost reverently, sucking each swollen nipple. I moaned as he continued to fuel my fire. His cock throbbed in unison with his heartbeat as his hands ran along each roll and curve of my body, paying homage. Reading the story inscribed there.

  When he’d had his fill, he grabbed each buttock and guided me over him. A few strokes—slow and easy—finding each and every sweet spot within me. A few faster strokes, almost pulling out of me before burying deep inside. A strange sort of relaxation settled over me as I opened to this man and what he asked of me. Demanded of me. His key unlocking some of that hidden treasure.

  With one graceful movement he stood, still seated deep within me, and lay me over the low arm of the chair. I settled on the leather left warm from his heat, opening my legs wide for him. He leaned forward, capturing my eyes, radiating his desire for me. For me. I closed them and let our bodies meld. Then and only then did he reach between my legs and grasp the button begging for release.

  Keening is the only word that can describe the sound I made. He pinched and rammed into me. I arched, and quick rippling tremors rocketed through me. The tumultuous orgasm exploded, and nothing existed but the heat of his body and the sensations cascading through me. After an eternity of being gripped by the convulsions rocketing through me, I collapsed into the chair, panting. He stood bent over me, eyes closed, an occasional tremor. The man had control.

  With a deep happy sigh, he disposed of the condom. Seconds later, he drew me up into his arms for a deep kiss. I started to pull away before he could. I knew the drill; time to make my escape. He swept me up in strong arms and took me to his bed. Apparently, I didn’t know the drill. If I didn’t watch out, this man might take—and break—my heart. But I let his warm embrace blanket me. I was almost asleep when his chuckle startled me.

  “So, what are these kinky things you want to do?”

  I lifted my forehead from the heat of his shoulder and stared at him in amazement. “I never—”

  He cradled my breasts and pulled me in for a long, slow kiss. “Haven’t we moved beyond the modesty? Come on, spill.”

  I let him pull me into his embrace. I heard the beating of his heart and…stillness. The storm outside had ended. Mine had just begun.

  Chapter 16

  Daniel

  I lay holding her, letting the heat of her body soothe my tremulant heart. I’d take her by surprise yet again, but I needed to know who she truly was. I needed her to find the woman who craved what others called depravity as much as I did. Or was I just kidding myself?

  “No, really. What makes you think I’m into kink?”

  I laughed as I ran my hand down her soft curves. If I could do nothing more than carress the solid warmth of this woman, I’d die a happy man.

  “Butterfly, maybe it’s time you read your books. Remember Raven’s Torment and Raven’s Surrender?”

  “Hmmm. Oh yes, Raven. That’s just a story. My readers like the kink. How come you called me butterfly?”

  “You’re equivocating.”

  “And you’re taking without giving.” She rolled and sat up cross-legged, looking at me with just the cutest grin. The soft, musky scent of our lovemaking spoke directly to my flaccid cock, which, amazingly, fluttered in response. The firelight played over her face as she leaned forward in shy curiosity and covered the misbehaving member with her hand. It responded despite the recent workouts that should have drained it of all life.

  I grabbed her hand and pulled her back to me. “Give the poor fellow a break. He needs his beauty sleep. Now, where were we?”

  “You’re avoiding the issue, and I’m equivocating. How about we play twenty questions, and we can guess something kinky about each other. Remember, lying is not allowed in the game. Me first.”

  I’d have to remember to ask her just why playing this game made it so much easier for her to talk. “Ask away.”

  “No, no. Me first means you pose a question, and I’ll answer.”

  “Okay,” I agreed. “Guess an apparatus I’d like to use. Go.”

  Her face settled into a study of considerable consternation. I watched as curiosity overcame modesty. I was beginning to believe that demureness was part of the mask she wore to protect herself. I wanted to peel away all the protective layers men like Greg had instigated. I wanted to earn her trust.

  She played with the hair on my chest before taking a deep breath. “Can you spank with it?”

  “No.” I watched the firelight dance across her exquisite exotic face.

  “Um, can you use it to tie someone up?”

  “No.” It was evident she had limited knowledge of sexual apparatus.

  “Is it made of wood?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh my God, I’ve got it.” She practically bounced with glee. “It’s a switch. You want to spank someone with a switch.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “I hate to burst your bubble, Logan, but it’s not a switch. Keep going.”

  Her face fell, then lit up again. “I know. It’s one of those spanking benches I wrote about in Raven’s Surrender, right?”

  “No, but you’re warmer.”

  She pinched my nipple. “Bastard. You’re enjoying this. Hold on. I’ve got to make a pit stop.”

  “No cheating.”

  She wrapped herself in a blanket and wiggled her ass at me as she disappeared into the en suite joining our rooms. A few minutes later she returned with a couple of gla
sses of wine. She handed one to me before climbing back onto the bed and sitting beside me.

  “I think I’ve got it now. Is it one of those spreader thingies?”

  “What the hell is a spreader thingy?”

  “You know, silly. One of those poles with cuffs on either side that spread the legs apart.”

  “Oh, thooose spreader thingies. No, but remind me to tell you about them later.”

  “Okay, I give up. What is it?”

  “Are you sure you give up, ’cause I’ll win this round.”

  She sighed. “I’m sure, and I can tell you’re going to be a horrible winner. What is it?”

  “Saint Andrew’s cross.” I laughed at the look of incredulity that spread over her face. This was more fun than the courtroom any day.

  “What on earth is a Saint Andrew’s cross? A cross? What’s sexy about that?”

  Now I was full out roaring, from deep in my belly. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed like that, never mind with a woman. I couldn’t explain what I found so delightful about her naiveté, but watching the expressions dance across her face was one of the most erotic things I’d ever seen. And then there was her quaint way of phrasing things.

  “Do you ever just swear?”

  “I believe I’ve already cursed at least twice today.” She pursed her lips together like an English schoolmarm. “What makes you ask?”

  “I’m not sure bastard or bloody hell qualify as swear words. Most women I know would say something like, ‘No shit, a fucking cross.’ You always look like you’d rather drink pickle juice than swear, that’s all.”

  “Well, it’s not like I’m a prude, you know. I say things like that in my head.” She straightened her spine, and the schoolmarm look morphed into a full-fledged headmistress expression.

  “Yeah, how often?”

  “Lots.”

  My eyebrows shot to the ceiling.

  “Okay, not very much.” Her shoulders slumped a little.

  “We’ll have to work on that. Anyway, it’s my turn to ask what apparatus you would like. I’ll tell you about the cross later. Can it cause pain?”

  I jumped right to the chase. I figured if she didn’t know what a Saint Andrew’s cross was and given there was only a bit of mild BDSM in what she considered to be her spiciest novel, she would probably choose either a flogger or dildo. Maybe one of those things with the nubbed surface that Justine used to like so much. That would be disappointing.

  “Can what cause pain?” She took a gulp of her wine, casting a sideways glance my way. She knew bloody well what I meant, but I’d play. I gave her my most patient lawyerly voice.

  “Can the sex apparatus you’d like to try most cause pain?”

  Another gulp. “Maybe.”

  “You’re not a very good liar. Truth.”

  “Okay, yes.” Another one of those adorable blushes again.

  I couldn’t wipe the silly grin off my face. “There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

  “Oh my gosh, what movie are you quoting? I so remember that line.”

  “There Will Be Blood. 2007.”

  “I loved that movie. Daniel Day-Lewis, what a hunk.” She hid the deepening blush with the curtain of black hair.

  “Not my type. Now are we going to finish this game or aren’t we? Does it have a handle?”

  She grinned. “Yes.”

  “Do you want it used in you?”

  “Nope. You’re getting colder.” She was practically levitating with delight.

  “On you?”

  “Yes.” She deflated for a moment, then perked right up. “You’ll never guess.”

  So, it wasn’t the dildo. Flogger, I was sure of it. Everything about this woman screamed relinquishing control. I hoped I was right and could teach her the difference between relinquishing control in life and the bedroom. I decided to play for another minute.

  “Would you like to feel it on your ass?” I was determined to keep her in a perpetual state of crimson.

  “Yes.”

  Oh, quieter now.

  “Thighs?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Stomach?”

  The shake of her head was almost imperceptible. Ah, she wasn’t sure.

  “Maybe… No.”

  I watched her intently. She sat on her knees, head bent forward, wine cupped in both hands as if in offering—exquisite.

  “Breasts?”

  I could hear her struggle to control her breathing.

  “Maybe.” The word was almost a breath itself. “Not too hard.”

  Would you like nipple clamps? “Does it have a wooden handle and leather strands?”

  She tossed her hair back and looked at me accusingly. “You knew all along, didn’t you?” She picked up a pillow and threw it at me, spilling wine on my chest in the process.

  “Oh, now look what you’ve made me do.” She turned to get off the bed. I grabbed her wrist. Curiosity lit her face.

  “And how are you going to clean this up?” I asked.

  She stared at me intently, then carefully set her glass on the bedside table. Settling back on her haunches, she leaned over and licked the wine trickling over my chest. Like a cat. I could almost hear her purr. My cock most certainly started to vibrate.

  When she'd licked the last drop, she sat back with a satisfied grin, looking pointedly at my hard-on before turning those sapphire spotlights on my face. She licked her lips.

  “You never told me what it is.”

  “A flogger. You never told me when you want to try it.”

  “It’s a moot subject, as you lawyers say since we don’t have one.”

  “Are you sure about that? I suspect there’s a collection of sex toys around here somewhere. This house seems to have everything we’ve needed so far.”

  “So far.”

  I pushed her onto her back and rolled over her, drinking in the wanton desire in those sultry eyes. I nuzzled her lips, savoring her tongue, where the taste of the very fine wine lingered. I ran my hand down her belly, sliding my fingers between swollen lips. Soaking wet. Jesus. I dropped my forehead to hers. Pulled back.

  She looked up startled, the “What?” on her face a shout. I stroked her cheek. “Time for sleep, wee one. I need you well rested for what I have planned tomorrow.”

  Her face clouded. “But, the storm’s gone. We can go home.”

  I swept my gaze down her body, then back to her eyes. “I won’t be going anywhere. Will you?”

  One-Mississ— “No.”

  I rolled her on her side and snuggled up against her back. She sighed, wound her fingers through mine, and slipped into sleep. Just like that.

  I woke inside my dream. There, standing at the side of the bed, was the prim schoolmarm holding a tray complete with silver coffee service. Logan's soft white blouse and navy skirt were almost prim. And she had on glasses. Glasses? “Oh God. If it isn’t Miss Jean Brodie in the flesh.”

  Her smile transformed her face. “I love Miss Jean Brodie. That’s a huge compliment.”

  Seriously. Go figure. I rolled my legs off the bed and sat up. I took the coffee cup with the handle facing me and took a swig. Double-double, just like I liked it. Observant. I put it back on the tray and took a good look at my school marm. The simplest things seemed to make her glow. Interesting.

  “Daniel, please try to do as I say and not as I do. Remember, you are a child, Daniel, and far from your prime.” Her face was alight with glee. She was good at role play. I liked that. This woman had distinct possibilities.

  I got up off the bed running my hands through my tousled hair. “And in about ten minutes, Miss Brodie, you’re about to find out just how much of a child I am. In the meantime, get rid of that oh-so-attractive, but oh-so-restrictive garment you’re wearing in favor of something a little more accessible.”

  Coffee cup in hand, I stepped into the en suite for a quick shave and shower. I wasn’t sure how the day would unfold, but I sure as hell wanted to start it off in the right di
rection. Then the house could take over and follow the agenda it seemed to have set forth.

  Refreshed, I found Logan in her dressing room, tossing through hangers and muttering. I leaned on the doorframe and watched her in the huge mirror that cloaked the back wall. Something about a mirror niggled, and I turned the pages in my mind seeking an answer.

  Anais, we will find the answers as we explore the mysteries behind the mirror…

  Yes! That was it. From the letters. I strode to the wall.

  “Daniel. What on earth?”

  I swallowed a laugh. My pulse quickened. I was certain. I sensed Logan beside me, but even that didn’t shift my focus. I pushed along the edges of the mirror.

  “Daniel, what—”

  Click. And the wall swung inward, and I looked directly at the most magnificent Saint Andrew’s cross. Holy Shit! In three strides, I stood in front of it, reverently running my hands down the polished mahogany.

  “Holy cow.” Logan brushed past me. “Look at this stuff.”

  Her squeal tore me from worshiping the cross, and I spun to face her. She stood there holding a flogger in her right hand, looking at it as if it had appeared there by magic. And maybe it had. I took her face in my hands and kissed her deeply, savoring the soft swell of her lips. I pulled back ever so slightly, her breath interweaving with mine.

  “Do you want to do this?”

  She stared into my eyes. I waited. Afraid to move. Raw emotion filled the tiny space that kept us apart.

  “Yes.” A beat. “Yes, I do.” She gestured to the small table set in an alcove. “Wait right here.”

  The room was large, walls lined with tastefully displayed shelves and drawers, and a few strategically placed bolts and hooks. There were indeed floggers. And whips. Dildos, nipple clamps, restraints, switches, paddles, crops—every flavor of sex toy one could imagine. A spanking horse in one corner, a sling swing in another. There wasn’t a speck of dust in the room, and all was in immaculate condition. The house was certainly living up to its reputation.

  The smell of warm bread pulled me out of my reverie. Logan spread out an array of rolls and croissants, cheeses and jams, fruit and shaved meats.