She spun on her heel, giving him her back, and lifted her long golden hair. “Help me with my zipper.”
If he’d been reluctant before, she had apparently changed his mind. He nibbled her neck. “I am accustomed to calling the shots.”
“I am very determined.”
“I admire that in a woman.” He nipped her ear. “You also have a very beautiful neck. I admire that, too.”
She’d never thought acting so brazen and uninhibited could bring her so much joy. Between wearing her mask and Quinn having no idea of her true identity, she had a freedom to say and do whatever bold thought struck her.
Time to go for broke. She lowered her voice to a seductive whisper. “Unzip me and you might find other things about me that you like.”
His fingertips brushed her nape, shooting a tingle of anticipation down her spine. His warm breath fanned her ear, and she had to stiffen her knees to prevent a tremble.
“You don’t mind if I take my time, do you?” At his query, her mouth turned dry, but his question was clearly rhetorical. She was so ready for Quinn’s touch, and yet, contradictorily, she wanted him to linger, so she could savor every precious moment.
And as he’d so casually reminded her, he was a man accustomed to calling the shots. So she remained silent, and he chuckled, his rich tone signifying a promise to edge her right over her comfort zone to another level where she’d never been. He tugged down the zipper several inches. The bodice of her gown parted in back and the front dipped from her flesh, allowing cool air to waft over her naked breasts.
“It may take me a while to explore all of you. I’m very thorough,” he promised, his voice a silky caress. His fingertips stroked tiny circles on her neck and bared shoulders, parting the dress at her spine, edging the material aside. She stood for him, holding up her hair, the action raising her breasts which ached for the caress of his clever hands.
He was going too slowly. Now that he’d started the zipper, she could finish what he’d begun. She reached behind her back, tugged. And the gown pooled at her feet, leaving her exposed—except for her mask, a scrap of lace panties and her heels.
Quinn didn’t miss a beat. “You have a marvelous back.”
“Ah, mon cher, and what do you think of the front of me?” She turned around then, pleased at his intake of breath.
“You are a work of art—”
“Who wants to be touched.” She placed her hands on her hips.
He reached…for her mask. His move took her unawares and she stifled a gasp. She’d thought he would go for her breasts. But no, Quinn had to be Quinn—unpredictable. He had to do the unexpected and think outside the box. But she’d planned as well as she could for this eventuality. If he didn’t allow her to keep the mask, she would leave. But after all her elaborate scheming she was not yet ready to flee—not when the passion she craved was so close to fruition.
She stepped back, almost tripped in her haste. “It’s your turn to take something off,” she told him, forcing a playful tone into her French accent.
He loosened his tie. Tossed it onto a chair.
“More,” she demanded.
He slipped out of his jacket and took a step toward her. She shook her head. “I’m practically naked.”
“Mmm.”
“And you still have too many clothes covering you.”
With a wry lift of his lips, he reached for his belt and her mouth went dry. Quinn might call the shots at the office but not here.
“First, the shirt, si’l vous plait.” It was a powerful feeling to give him orders to do exactly what she wished. As he obeyed, unbuttoning his shirt and removing it in quick, efficient moves that left her breathless, her breasts ached and her nipples hardened into nubs so tight that she had to refrain from throwing herself against him.
She’d never seen his bare chest without a towel draped around his neck. And his powerful shoulders and sculpted abdominals revealed that Quinn liked to lift weights. But he didn’t have the bulk of a wrestler, more the lean lines of a swimmer.
Maggie let her gaze sweep over him in appreciation. The candlelight reflected off his toned body, emphasizing the clean lines of his limbs, his tapered torso. The triangle of hair that spread from nipple to nipple and narrowed into the waistband of his slacks made her long to see more.
She licked her lips. “Now, the belt.”
His eyes flashed with green fire. “You haven’t removed anything in quite some time.”
“I’m way ahead of you, Monsieur Scott.”
He removed his belt. “An interesting way of telling me to strip.”
“Now, your shoes. The right one first,” she added remembering to act like a spoiled movie star. However, keeping up her role was becoming more difficult with every item of clothing that he discarded. No man had the right to be so beautiful. And that he was alone with her, stripping to her command, incited her with lust.
As if understanding her need to order him, he straightened without taking off his socks. His gaze zoomed in on her breasts and the heat of his gaze alone caused her nipples to tighten further. She trembled at the heat that simmered between her thighs.
Speaking past her quiver of need was almost beyond her. But not quite. She licked her bottom lip again. “Your socks.”
On her command, he bent to take them off, revealing the powerful muscles of his back. Needing to restrain her galloping heart, she dropped her gaze to someplace safe. His feet.
But damn him. The man even had elegant feet. High arches. Long, straight toes, the nails neatly clipped.
Quinn straightened in one fluid move. He wore boxers, tented from his erection. She liked seeing his visible display of desire. Liked knowing that her little game had turned him on. Liked knowing that she could get under his skin.
And she was far from done.
“Would you like to remove my panties?” she purred.
“Yes.” He closed the distance between them so quickly, she gulped.
Although he had yet to touch her, heat radiated from his muscular body. She summoned up another command. “Take them off. With your teeth, si’l vous plait.”
He stood so close, she saw his nostrils flare. “First, another kiss.” He didn’t wait for her to agree. His mouth swooped back down on her lips, and as her lips parted in invitation, he nibbled and nipped as if she were a morsel of chocolate to savor.
He took his time with her mouth, his inventive kiss demanding and persuading. And yet, never once did their bodies touch, which naturally made her wonder just when he intended to get around to touching her, or removing her panties, or adjourning to the bed.
After years of waiting, she was about to get what she wanted. She was actually pulling this off. And Quinn was better than her dreams. Every bone in her body was melting from just his lips on hers, his tongue entwined with hers.
Quinn exhibited remarkable patience. She was ready to tackle him onto the mattress, and yet she sensed that although he was ready to make love, he wasn’t quite as ready as she. She reminded herself that she’d had a head start, had devoted many nights to the fantasy of lusting after him, spent months of fantasizing about him, which had built her anticipation to explosive heights.
She broke their kiss. “My panties,” she reminded him.
He placed his palms over her breasts and caressed her with smooth circling motions. “First, I want to explore the treasures you’ve already revealed.”
She should step back. Retake control of their game. But his hands felt so good, she couldn’t summon the willpower. And, damn him, he knew it. Somehow, he’d read it in her eyes, in the way she yielded to the temptation of his magical hands, his palms slowly circling, his fingers barely grazing her breasts. My, oh my. The sensations had her biting her lip to avoid moaning.
She didn’t know how much more of this she could take. Then he added another level of seduction. His sexy voice. “You have perfect breasts. So soft and full and responsive. When a woman responds so eagerly, she makes a man feel lik
e the greatest lover in the world. But you know that, don’t you?”
I do now. “Yes.” To her own ears, her tone sounded wanton. She couldn’t be sure she was keeping up enough French words or the accent, couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t give herself away. But how could she concentrate when all she could think about were his hands on her breasts, his flat palms continuously caressing?
She placed her hands on his shoulders to steady herself, her fingers digging into his firm flesh. His skin was warm and smooth over his hard muscles. Heat over steel.
In comparison, her insides felt like a pool of water that threatened to break through its dam at any moment. She couldn’t wait much longer.
“My panties…”
He dropped to his knees, but his hands never left her breasts, his stroking never ceased. And then his breath ruffled the goose bumps on her hips. His lips grazed her skin, and she realized she’d made a huge mistake. She might be calling the shots, but Quinn controlled the pacing. She should never have asked him to use his teeth. This sweet torture was going on far too long.
“Hurry.”
“You sound as if you are begging.”
She was. Damn him for knowing. Damn him for pointing it out. “You are the one on your knees, mon cher.”
“So I am.” He chuckled and his breath tickled her, right through the lace. “And I’m exactly where I want to be.”
His hands on her breasts were creating a direct and steady current to the heat between her legs. “I said to hurry.”
He lightly pinched her nipples. She gasped in surprise and pleasure.
“Patience.” He muttered with a muffled chuckle. Finally he had the panties moving down, but just an inch, before he turned his attention to her other hip. She closed her eyes in frustrated impatience, but as if sensing she was trying to protect herself from the sensations, his fingers again tweaked her nipples.
“Quinn. This is so very good.”
“No.” He placed his nose between the lacy scrap and breathed in. “This is.”
He was right between her legs. He’d pulled down her panties only an inch, teasing her. His wondrous hands never stopped moving over her breasts, holding her in limbo, then flicking her nipples until she writhed in need.
She’d never been so ready for a man, so wet, willing and wanting. From the moment she’d stepped out of her dress, she’d been ready to go. And he’d made her wait when all she wanted was to feel him inside her. She forced her legs to hold her upright, if only for a moment more.
He licked her right through the panties, his surprise move shooting a sizzle of current in her most sensitive place. She forgot to hold back a moan. One lick. That was all he gave, just a taste. She wanted to spread her legs. But then he was back to tugging down the panties again, perhaps another half inch. And if she widened her stance, he’d never get them off.
“I’m waiting,” he prodded.
“For?” She didn’t want to talk. She only wanted to feel his wonderful hands and his erotic mouth. Not even in her secret fantasy fests had she allowed her imagination to go this far, hadn’t known she could experience this level of hedonism without gratification.
“I’m waiting for you to explain.” He sounded so patient. She was ready to scream. “Explain?” Was he on to her? Did he know she wasn’t Laine?
She couldn’t allow him to stop now. She’d say anything. Do anything. If only to keep his hands and mouth right where they were.
He licked her again. “Tell me the real reason why I’m here with you.”
4
PANIC MERGED WITH SEXUAL frustration. Did Quinn suspect? Did he know she was Maggie? How could she keep a rational thought in her head when he kept licking her between questions? When his hands kept tweaking her sensitive nipples? When she had to fight to keep back the tiny moans of pleasure threatening to escape her throat?
Maggie didn’t have an answer for him. Neither did Laine.
He licked her again, shooting fire through her panties. With the rough lace and his hot tongue on her, she couldn’t think.
And when she heard thunder, she thought the roaring came from the blood rushing in her head. But when she turned her head, she saw the answer to her problem and seized it. “It’s going to storm.”
Quinn paid no attention, his tongue and hands busy. She wanted to shout for him to take off her damn panties. To remove his boxers. To sheathe himself inside her. Here. Now.
But Quinn was on his own time schedule. And he knew just how to bring her to the brink, then back off while she panted and gnashed her teeth.
Lightning flashed in the distance. Storm clouds rolled in over the sea, blowing in gusts of cool air, extinguishing some of the candles. “Quinn, I need…to…close—”
Oh, Lord. The things he could do with his tongue.
Wind brought in the first tiny droplets, just a mist, but a forerunner of what was to come. The cool vapor on her heated skin gave her the impetus to step back from his hands and magical tongue. “Quinn, it’s going to rain.”
He reached for her. “So?”
She slipped away. “So, we should shut the door.”
He stood and frowned at her, a trace of doubt in the jut of his jaw. “You’re worried about the carpet?”
Uh-oh.
Laine wouldn’t have concerned herself about the wet drapes and carpet. But Maggie lived in a world where people had to worry about the consequences of their actions. And habit, combined with sweet sexual torture, had made her forget her role.
She had to distract him fast. She hooked her thumbs into her panties, cocked her hip, shot him a saucy grin, then she spun around. Slowly, oh-so-slowly, she peeled the panties down over her butt—thanks to hours of kickboxing—her nice tight butt. When she glimpsed him over her shoulder, his eyes had the fierce look of a man who only by the power of supreme control held himself in check, and all the hours in the gym were worth her effort.
His voice went hoarse. “You’re exquisite.”
“Oui,” she agreed, pleased he was pleased. Even better she’d distracted him again. And given herself a few moments to regroup. Pushing him out of his zone of control excited her more than she’d imagined.
She bent over farther as she tugged the panties past her thighs. He sucked in a breath, then let it out with a slow rasp that made her burn. She bent forward a little more as she guided the lace over her knees.
Curious that he seemed to be holding his breath, she glanced between her legs, found him staring at her with utter fascination and spiking lust. His expression—a mixture of awe, adoration and shock—made her flush with heat.
However, the mask kept Maggie from the slightest feeling of embarrassment. She’d made love before, but never like this. Never had she done anything so wild. Never had she felt so free. Or so hot.
When she stepped out of the panties, she deliberately widened her stance. And Quinn, like a tiger sprung from a trap, pounced as she straightened, grabbing her up into his arms.
He held her with one arm behind her knees, the other behind her back. Her heart pitter-pattered at the romantic gesture—but there was nothing romantic about the fierce look of tension on his face.
She thought he’d carry her to the bed, but he strode past the bed, through the bedroom and headed out onto the balcony where lush potted plants preserved their privacy, even from any boats at sea.
“The door,” he ordered, his face dark with ferocity.
She removed her hands from around his neck and pulled shut the sliding glass door behind them. The major part of the storm was far out to sea, but the fringes whipped wind at them, rained on them, perfectly matching the wild glint in Quinn’s eyes.
He no longer looked like the boss she knew. His pupils reflected the lightning in the distance and his heart thudded against her cheek. Tension radiated from his arms and those proud shoulders held her like a pirate about to ravish his lady.
Maggie wanted to purr. She’d stirred up his passion, liberated the savage, and she couldn’t wait to
reap the rewards of her efforts.
When Quinn set her down at the balcony’s edge, he gripped the railing, one arm on either side of her, trapping her. Even if she wanted to change her mind, there could be no retreat. With her little striptease act, the gallant side of Quinn had snapped, releasing the elemental Quinn that made her breath catch in her throat and the heat between her thighs flare another degree.
She reached for the waistband of his boxers and yanked them down. “You still aren’t keeping up, Quinn.”
He held up a silver foil packet between two fingers as if the condom were a prize. “I had other things on my mind.”
She ignored the condom. As if attracted by a magnet, her fingers closed around his sex. Long and thick, he felt hard, slick velvet to her touch, and he leaped at her caress. Perhaps because she lightly raked his skin with her nails, perhaps because she used her fingers to cup his balls, he strained at each caress.
She blew out a sultry breath of air. “I like having you in the palm of my hand.”
“I’ll just bet you do.” The hard edge of his voice warned her that she was playing with fire, that only his forbearance and immense control allowed him to hold completely still for her. “I just hope…you’re ready…for the consequences.”
Beneath the mask, she licked her bottom lip, thrilled by the broken cadence of his utterance. “Thanks to your tongue, I’m more than ready. However, I thought I should return the favor.”
His fingers clenched the sleek railing. Raindrops slicked down his heated flesh. And at her tantalizing suggestion, his erection swelled even larger, his skin stretched tighter. She flicked her thumb over the engorged head and was pleased to hear him groan above the rush of the wind.
“I’m going to find all your sensitive places with my fingers, then again with my tongue,” she told him, enjoying his struggle to hold completely still for her caresses. “I’m going to take you so close to orgasm that you can taste release.”
“Promises. Promises,” he egged her on.
Bordering on Obsession Page 4