Just as his fingers were almost there, so close, and all her attention was focused on whether he would touch her over the silk or shove her panties aside stroke her, he bit down on her ass.
She cried out just as his fingers slipped inside her panties and her folds and stroked her deeply from clit to her hot center. The long slide through her pussy reverberated up her spine. She gasped, and her pussy quivered.
He grabbed her panties and hoisted her ass up in the air. The thin cloth folded and pulled up tight between her lips, tweaking her clit as she got her knees under her. He still held her wrists behind her back, so her face was buried in the mattress. She couldn’t see what he was going to do, and her pussy clenched hard with excitement.
She was tipsy as heck, but his rough breath panting against her back was sexy as hell. He wanted her. She could feel how much he did.
He wrenched her panties down to her knees, grating her skin. He slid his hand up the inside of her leg so fast that her breath rushed in as she knew that his fingers were speeding toward her pussy again.
His fingers slid inside her. She was wet, so wet, and so open to him with her ass in the air. The sluttiness was exhilarating, and stopping didn’t cross her mind.
He stroked her inside with his fingers and rubbed her clit with his thumb, dragging his fingers over her skin. Desire built in her and became an ache.
He switched his hand around. Instead of rubbing her clit with his slick thumb, he slid his thumb over her asshole, rubbing the sensitive skin there as he stroked her center inside. Her pussy fluttered around his fingers. Pleasure sparked up her spine, and she cried out into the darkness of the mattress. She couldn’t believe that such a naughty thing would feel so good, but all the naughty things that Wulf did to her felt incredible.
He let go of her arms, and she rolled over on the bed, reaching for him and kicking off her panties that bound her legs together. Desperation for his body crowded out all her thoughts. Her skin was on fire where he had bitten her and grabbed her skin.
Wulf leapt on her. His knee shoved her legs apart.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, almost crying with need.
~~~~~
Secrets of his Heart
Wulf kneeled, poised between Rae’s legs, ready to have her. Her coppery hair flowed over his pillows as she tossed her head, nearly mad with wanting him. “Wulf!”
Him! Not just sex. Not what he could do for her, or to her, but she wanted him.
Because Wulf was The Dom of The Devilhouse, the women expected a night of debauchery with him. Sometimes, figuring out what they actually wanted but were too afraid or ashamed to ask for required his entire attention and much time. That date with Lizbeth a month ago had nearly been a disaster. Her self-assurance at The Devilhouse masked a deep fascination with submissiveness. Once he understood that she wanted complete domination, that she would never utter her safe word because she wanted to experience being so heavily submissive, the night had descended to disturbing levels.
With Rae, Wulf didn’t feel like he was manipulating her or putting on a show. He felt real. He wanted to shove his cock inside her and fuck her until she screamed his name. He wanted to ruin her for other men, to take her so completely for himself that she couldn’t even look at another man.
He ran his hands up her velvety thighs again, feeling how she trembled, and stroked her through her clit and pussy again. She was sopping wet and hot inside. Yes, she was ready for him, and he was so hard with wanting her that his balls tightened just thinking about taking her.
He reached for his night stand, where he had stashed several condoms that morning, just in case. He never kept condoms in his bedroom because he had never brought a woman to his home.
His business manager at The Devilhouse had alerted him the previous afternoon that Reagan’s medical release had been submitted and was clear. Wulf had had his own physical the month before and, as always, was clear.
He hesitated.
Her fingers plucked at his chest, making his skin tingle. He thumbed her clit again, watching desire fog her eyes. Seeing her out of her mind with passion made his mouth wet.
When she had given him a blow job without a condom, her mouth had been so hot, so wet, and his balls squeezed again.
“Wulf, please!”
He didn’t open the nightstand drawer.
Wulf held his bare cock to the heat of her pussy, felt her warmth and wetness on the head of his dick, and sank into her.
She was so warm, so slippery as her body closed around his cock, and he slid through her. He gasped with shock of it, then remembered her. He brought his mouth down on hers as he slipped in and out her, every stroke so much more than anything he had felt before.
He had always used condoms. At Institut Le Rosey where he had grown up, condoms were freely available and considered mandatory. One virus could have wiped out an entire generation of the world’s elite.
His first time, he had used a condom.
Every time since, he had used a condom.
Every blow job until last week, he had used a condom.
A protective carapace had been stripped away from him, and his vulnerable body shuddered for the first time. His uncovered scar felt cold on his back.
Another stroke, and he was buried deep in her again. He lifted at the end and rubbed against her clit, and she gasped.
Her breath came hot and fast on his shoulder. Her voice held a note of panic as she asked, “Did you put on a condom?”
“No.” His voice was hoarse with emotion, shocking him. “We’re both clear, medically.” He dipped into her heat again, and his balls tightened. He controlled the urge to come.
“Wulf, I’m not on the Pill. Oh, my God! Yes!”
He pierced her with his cock, pressing in deep and grinding up at the end. She gasped and wound her arms around his neck tightly so that he couldn’t have pulled out.
“Oh, God, yes! Please, yes!” she cried.
He would have thought that such an admission would have driven him back and away, but he drove himself more deeply into her. His skin on hers felt so natural that he wanted all of her, and he wanted to bury himself in Rae. His strokes were slow and deep so that she couldn’t think, but every time he thought about her, her pussy was so hot, so wet on him, that his balls clenched.
He conjured up the Black-Scholes equation in his head using Friday’s option prices for Altria because his control was tremulous, but he reined himself in.
Under him, her breathing rasped, and her arms held him close. The last of her perfume mixed with the heady scent of woman and, if he closed his eyes, Wulf would have thought they were making love on a bed of jasmine. His imagination could not stretch beyond this moment, and he held her in his arms, pinned to the bed with his body, and his heart was full of her.
He worked her body, listening to her cries at the top of his stroke. Her body writhed under him, and her soft, soft arms and legs wrapped him.
“Yes!” she begged in his arms. “Wulf, yes!”
Their lives were balanced on a knife-edge. She knew only his present life, and the future was open to them. His life before he had met her faded into mist. With her, he could start over, and all the violence and pain would fall away.
He reared up and looked down at Rae while his body moved in hers. Her hair glinted red, and her eyes were closed. Her body pulsed as he rocked into her.
He said, “Look at me.”
Her eyes fluttered open, drunk with desire, and he could see himself reflected in her lovely brown eyes.
He wanted her to see him, to know him, to know that he, Wulf von Hannover, was about to leave himself inside her. “Reagan, look at me.”
She focused a little on him, but at the top of each long slide into her, when he rubbed her clit, her gaze blurred, and she gasped and whimpered with need. “Wulf,” she whispered. “Yes.”
He drove deeper into her, waiting for her to climax. He buried his dick deep in her with every thrust.
S
he cried out and arched off the bed. Her body clenched around his cock.
There.
He pushed into her one last time and let go. His balls squeezed against his body, and the energy pulled in from his limbs and turned to firecrackers up his spine and into his head. He heard his own hoarse voice shout as he shot his seed deep into her.
He fell, and he lay on her body, in her arms, as the last spasms pulsed. “Oh, Reagan.”
“Wulf,” she said, and his name in her lovely mouth was more than he could bear, so he kissed her, gently this time.
Still buried in Rae, holding her in his arms and kissing her, Wulf drifted.
~~~~~
So Many Secrets
Pieces of Rae floated inward to coalesce.
She gasped for air.
Wulf’s skin warmed her body.
Her vision refocused, and the tiny light bulbs embedded in the ceiling glowed like an array of suns.
Wulf kissed her, and she kissed him back, her arms draped around his neck. Her hand drifted toward his back and his scar. Her fingertips grazed the tangled skin. He didn’t flinch, so she explored it with her fingers. Tough ridges surrounded the gouge.
Wulf braced himself on his forearms while he kissed her. His languid kissing seemed like he was trying to prolong being inside her, like he hadn’t had enough of her yet. Her body shivered at the thought, and her pussy gripped his dick.
He chuckled, and his lips pulled away from hers as he smiled.
“What?” she asked.
“If you keep doing that, you might not leave tonight at all. What would the staff say?”
She slapped his shoulder. “I should leave. They’re going to talk.”
“It doesn’t concern us.”
“Oh, my Lord.” Rae covered her eyes as if trying to block out the thought. There was something so embarrassing about people not just suspecting but knowing that they’d been having sex and then, horrors, talking about it.
He rolled off of her, and she felt empty as he pulled out. He slid one strong arm under her shoulders and pulled her close to him. With the other hand, he flipped the blue comforter over them both.
Rae hadn’t even noticed him pull back the covers. Wow, she must be really tipsy, or just really into him.
Really into the ways that his hands stroked her.
Really into how his body slid between her thighs and into her.
Desire smoked in her again.
That was ridiculous. She couldn’t just hop on and ride him every five minutes.
Rae laid her head on his strong shoulder. She traced the ridges of muscle banding his chest and stomach. Black tattoo ink shrouded his other shoulder.
“Are they really going to talk?” she asked, even though she was ashamed that she was so ashamed.
“Probably,” Wulf said. “They discuss anything that amuses them.”
“Why are we even here? Why didn’t we just go to a restaurant and a hotel?”
“I wanted you to meet Rosamunde and the rest of my staff.”
“Because they’re your friends.”
“It’s a different relationship than friendship. It’s more like family, a series of reciprocal obligations.”
“But they’re not your family, really.”
“No, they’re not. They know their place, and they certainly keep me in mine.”
Rae ran her fingers over his chest, still shying away from that black ink blotch on his shoulder. “I can’t imagine living so far away from my family.”
“My mother died when I was fifteen.”
Visions of gunfire and spraying blood played in Rae’s head. “I’m sorry.”
“Breast cancer,” he said.
“I’m so sorry.” So prosaic and lingering a death seemed worse.
Maybe someone who had seen his brother shot to death would have a different opinion of a death that allowed time to say goodbye.
He said, “Most of my staff have been with me for years or are the grown children or younger siblings of previous staff.”
“So, their whole families serve you.” The feudal overtones creeped Rae out.
“They aren’t obligated to.”
“Are you going to ask them what they think of me?” She asked it as a joke, but if they hated her she would just die, and it would be worse if they despised her, and not just because of what that might mean for this whatever-it-was with Wulf. She hadn’t behaved like a snooty lady should. She had probably embarrassed Wulf in front of them by being the backwater country girl that she was.
Wulf’s smile turned wry again. “I don’t need to ask.”
Rae’s heart seized up. “How do you know?”
“They have been with me for years, day and night. Rosamunde will feel a need to polish you a bit, to which you may acquiesce or not, but they liked you quite well.”
“She trains up all your girlfriends, huh?”
“She’s never met one before.”
Rae wasn’t sure what to say to that, and she still felt stupid-needy. “Are you sure they liked me?”
Wulf glanced at her with sardonic side-eyes, like he wasn’t sure how she was going to take what he was about to say. “I was being a bit facetious when I was scouting for staff on our way to the bedroom.”
“I could tell you were poking fun at me.”
“Not at all. Doubtless, they heard your qualms and did not want to cause you discomfort. The living areas of the house had been flushed of staff. I have never seen this house so empty.”
“Oh.” So they all knew Rae was a tramp. Splendid.
“Had we gone to the garage, a line of staff would have said their goodbyes. You may well brace yourself for that in the morning.”
“Oh, good Lord.” Good thing that Rae was lying down, or else she might have swooned at the thought of his whole staff witnessing her walk of shame. “I can’t stay the night, anyway. I have to get back to my dorm. Hester will flip if I’m out all night.”
“Surely she wouldn’t.”
“Oh, surely she would.” Rae snuggled closer to Wulf’s lean body and rested her hand on his muscled chest. His heartbeat pulsed under her palm. She curled her fingers through the light blond fuzz on his chest and trailed her fingers down his rippled belly.
She peeked at the black tattoo ink that crept over his other shoulder.
When Rae had dragged Wulf’s shirt off his shoulders in The Devilhouse, she had exposed that terrible scar. A tattoo framed it, though she hadn’t had a good look at the tattoo because Wulf had bellowed his safe word and Rae had tossed his shirt back over his shoulders, horrified at what she had done.
Rae touched the tattoo ink.
Wulf didn’t say anything.
She ran her finger over the feathered edge, where the pool of dark ink met his pale skin. Not all the ink was black. Violent pink and white peeped over his strong trapezius muscle.
Rae rolled half onto him, engrossed in trying to see more. She stroked the black ink. “Does that hurt?”
“No.” He ran his hands down her ribs to her waist, stroking her skin.
She asked, “Did it hurt when they did it?”
“It stung a bit. There appears to be some nerve damage on my back, because I didn’t feel parts of it.”
“The ink is really dark.”
“It was engraved in the traditional Japanese method. Would you like to see the whole thing?” The calm in his voice seemed practiced.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to.” Rae scooted back.
Wulf rolled onto his stomach. Heavy muscles wrapped his back and tapered to his narrow waist.
On his back, draped over his right side, dark blacks and blues scrolled around flowers. “What kinds of flowers are these?”
“The white ones are chrysanthemums,” Wulf said. “The pink are cherry blossoms.”
Twigs of pink cherry blossoms separated the white chrysanthemum bursts. A long, snake-like creature wove through the flowers. Blue and green highlights tinged its white scales, almost opalescent o
n his pale scar. “And a dragon.”
“Yes.”
The whole design was encased in a black cloud that became the background. The flowers vined around the white dragon, which was actually his own pale skin showing through. The grotesque scar where the bullet had burst out his back was the body of the dragon. “You decorated it.”
“An attempt to incorporate the scar into my psyche. Perhaps not entirely unsuccessful. My school chum Yoshi suggested it when I visited him in Tokyo quite a few years ago. It took three months of weekly visits, directly before I took over The Devilhouse, as I recall.”
Rae didn’t like needles or pain and didn’t ever want to get a tattoo that took three months. “Do the things mean something?”
“The cherry blossoms represent the fragility and transience of life.”
Her heart hurt for him. “And the dragon?”
“Strength. Endurance. Mythological connotations of magic. Yoshi has a similar one.”
“That’s quite a commitment for school chum.”
“Yoshi dragged me under a car when that madman shot at us. When Yoshi was reaching for me, he was winged on the arm. He maintains that we both had blood all over us, and so we are blood brothers.”
Rae had to be careful, here, talking about the shooting, and blood, and brothers. “That’s awful.”
“It was not ideal. Have you seen enough?”
“Yeah.”
He rolled onto his back, and Rae slid down to lay beside him. The wine and exertion made her sleepy, and she felt her eyelids blinking. This room, lined with the spectrum of books, was a cozy enclave in Wulf’s castle.
Still, she noticed, there were books, relics of intellect, but there weren’t any pictures.
She twined her leg around his thigh, snuggling up to him. His arm tightened around her, holding her close, but he stared up at the bright LEDs in the ceiling.
“Were you all right with me seeing that?”
“Yes.” He didn’t even blink. “Give me a moment. It might have been disconcerting.”
Wow. That was quite an admission for the man with the shiny, mirrored shell. Rae rested her head on his shoulder and wound all of herself around him. She arched her back to press her body all down his side.
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