Sexy Beast

by Ella James

  His mouth is incredible, the fit perfect. Our tongues stroke and tease, and his lips are on mine with a perfect pressure, both teasing and hot. I’m drunk on him, the hot mint of his breath, the way his hard cock rubs against my hip as I’m still dripping underneath my panties. I feel his hands stroke up over my sides again, and then twist into my hair, and we’re clinging to each other.

  We’re still kissing when he finally lets me turn to fully face him. I lift a leg and hook it around his waist, desperate to rub myself against his cock. Cool glass comes against my back as his hands stroke me through my clothes. I grab at him, too, going for his pants, but I can’t see them. I can’t seem to rip my mouth from his. I grab his shirt and tug then fumble with his belt.

  In fact, his hand is the only thing that keeps me from getting it unbuckled, and I’m confused for a moment when he takes my hands in his and brings my fingers to his lips. He kisses me again, but it’s a controlled kiss, intended to slow me down. I’ve never been hot like this, ready to tear into someone, and he’s putting on the brakes.

  “Shhh, baby, I know.” He says the words into my mouth, even though he’s still kissing me. “Just stop for a second.”

  I’m trying to match his words to the desperate arousal and confusion between our bodies, but I can’t. I know he wants me. He’s rock hard.

  It causes almost physical pain to pull my lips away from his. He lets me go, but his body is still pressed to mine, and I have to close my eyes, lean my head back against the glass, and try to breathe. I’m trying not to move, not to dig my nails into the corded muscles of his shoulders. But my leg is still around him, and his cock is pressed against my pussy. I push against him in protest, and I’m gratified to hear him groan.

  “I’ll stop,” I breathe, “but you have to be the one to step back.”

  He presses his forehead to mine, and I feel him nod. Then he really does step back, and I grab at the glass. It’s like falling off the edge of a cliff, suddenly surrounded by air.

  “Darcy…”

  “Did I do something wrong?” I blurt out the words. I know I didn’t, but I can’t imagine how he managed to stop.

  “You didn’t do a fucking thing wrong, Darcy.” He steps back a little more, hands in his pockets, and I can’t help noticing the huge bulge tenting his pants.

  “Feeling you come is one the sexiest things I’ve ever experienced,” he says.

  Then why did he pull back?

  Before I can ask the question, he steps back further into the dark. I stay put, confused, and then I hear a small series of beeps in the dark, and James speaking low. Into a telephone. He’s ordering room service.

  I’m pacing along the glass wall like a tiger when he returns. The tranquil peace of the mountains has a calming effect, but the moment he steps near me, I feel my heartbeat quicken again. For his part, James is looking at me with that lone wolf stare again, and this time I know what it is. He still wants me, and if I reach out and touch him, I know his blood will be running hot as mine. Still, I want to honor his request. I want to please him. And something inside me feels like this is important. So, I keep my distance, and, sadly, so does he. The only time we touch while we wait is when he hands me a glass of white wine and our fingers brush. I almost drop the glass—just that little contact of our fingers makes things inside me go liquid again—but I keep my calm, and we toast silently and watch the mountains.

  Dinner comes, and only then do a soft row of invisible sunken lights come on, and I see more of the room than the brief glimpse afforded me before. The staff move silently, like shadows, setting up an intimate, candle-lit table within a few yards of one of the largest, plushest beds I’ve ever seen. I feel my skin go hot again, aware of the room and exactly where James is in it. I can’t tell what is on the elegantly arranged plates that the staff reveal as they slink out and away, but I’m also not hungry.

  At least, not for food.

  We’re still in his bedroom suite, I reason, silently. We’re not having dinner in a different room. If he wanted to stop for the night, I don’t think I’d still be in here. Unless it’s just that he’s such a gentleman, a little voice inside me whispers, that he’s just not kicking me out right away. My stomach ties into a small knot at that thought. The Ice King wouldn’t give a second thought to ordering me or anyone out. But everything I’ve learned about him in the last twenty-four hours has contradicted my impression of him as cold and domineering.

  I notice that he’s watching me. Our eyes meet over the table, and I take in some details. The immaculate bow tie from the party has long since been discarded, and the top three buttons of his shirt are undone. He’s rolled up the snowy white sleeves, and I can see his corded and muscled forearms, tan against the pristine folds. My knees feel a little weak at just that.

  The staff slip out just as silently as they rolled in, and then it’s just the two of us again.

  I’ve had a little time for my body to cool and for my head to return to an even keel. I feel silly, getting overwrought like this. Some escort I’ve turned out to be! So hot for my client I almost claw his pants off. So out of control he had to tell me to calm down after he made me come so hard I didn’t know what planet I was on. I turn back to the windows, hoping for another calming glimpse of the mountains, but with the low lights on in the room, the windows are a mirror rather than a view. I see James take another sip of his wine, though his eyes are on me. And am I mistaken to think they’re still burning hot?

  I watch his reflection as he sets the glass to the side of the elegantly dressed table and then comes up behind me. He moves stealthily for such a big man, and I feel myself blush again, watching the fluid way he moves.

  I turn just as he moves close to me again. And rather than speaking, he surprises me when he takes my hand in his and leads me toward the table. He pauses briefly, inclining his head to the sumptuous meal laid out to the side as though asking if I’m hungry. I don’t even look at it. I am hungry, but not for that. His eyes narrow, though he seems amused, and then he tugs my hand again and leads me to the bed.

  I have to clench my teeth to suppress the relieved breath. The bed! But then I let out a gasp when, with a lightning-quick dip, he lifts me up into his arms and places me gently on the coverlet. It’s such a gentle, smooth thing to do that I laugh softly. But much as I’m charmed, I’m also turned on, and before I can stop myself or even think about it, I grasp his arm. Our eyes lock briefly, and that attraction between us is almost palpable—the same rush I felt when our eyes locked the very first time, and every time since.

  He seems amused again. “Demanding little thing, aren’t you?”

  “Is that bad?” I ask softly. I mean the question sincerely. “You don’t want me to be like that?” I bite my lip, anxious and waiting for him to confirm that I’m turning him off.

  “Oh, fuck no. I do.” The air leaves his chest in a rush, and he leans his fists on the bed on either side of my hips, his head hanging down low between his shoulders. You’re so goddamned sexy, it’s all I can do not to fuck you right now.”

  That is not the answer I expected.

  I reach up and push my hands into his hair. I lean in close to his ear, kiss and nip at his cheek, trying to lift his head to my lips. He lets me for a moment, his eyes closed and lips parted softly. I trail my mouth along his cheeks, cuddling closer, trying to scoot down to get at more of him. He starts to reciprocate again, kissing me back, pushing his tongue into my mouth and leaning closer.

  “Do it,” I whisper against his mouth. “I want you to. I want you.”

  But just as I’ve scooted down low enough to bring one of my legs up and hook my ankle around his hip, to pull his body onto me, he stops again. This time my back bows up in frustration, and he breathes into my neck as he presses me down to the mattress. Just the weight of his body on mine is torment. And just when I think I can’t take another second, I hear him whisper into my ear.

  “I haven’t been with anyone since my wife’s…accident.�
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  Oh my God.

  “I want to. I’m just getting my head around it.”

  James has gone stock still, watching me intently, a curiously blank look on his face despite what he’s just told me. I should have guessed. The self-imposed solitary confinement would leave no time for any kind of socializing. If there had been a woman to offer temporary comfort after his wife’s death, he wouldn’t have needed an escort for this week. And his absolute disgust at the idea of paying a woman to fuck him—which is a cruel enough irony—would preclude any other short-term companionship. It’s so obvious that I don’t know how I hadn’t guessed.

  I might be blind to the obvious, but I know instinctively not to gush or simper at him at this moment. There’s a wary look in eyes, as though that’s exactly what he expects I’ll do next. I can tell he’s not the kind of man who wants sympathy or softness; it will just send him running. I’m not sure what to do, but I rein in the impulse to comfort him and just look back at him and afford the revelation the respect it deserves.

  After a long moment, very softly, I touch my fingertips to his lips, brush gently, and then lean back. And wait.

  His eyes crinkle at the edges, and the tight knot in my chest is slightly loosened. I lie back as he moves closer to me, and, to my surprise, he stretches out on his side and props his head on his hand and looks down at me. I curl in toward him—I can’t resist doing that—but this time I know not to crowd in. Our bodies are close enough to share an intimate heat, but not enough to light a fire.

  For now.

  We just breathe together for a little while. He strokes a lock of hair away from my face, and then gently pushes the rest of my hair back, tracing the skin of my neck as he does it. I half-close my eyes and purr a little to let him know I like his touch, but I don’t do more than press my hand to his chest and trace the buttons with my fingertip.

  Another moment of looking into each other’s eyes and he leans in softly, watching my face as he kisses me. I hum a soft note of pleasure, encouraging more. He slips his fingers under the thin silk strap of my dress and tugs it down my shoulder, watching the fabric peel away from my breast. When he tugs the dress down, exposing my nipple to his view, we both watch it round and harden. This close to him, I can see his eyes go dark and his breath come a little faster.

  “I love the way your body responds. I can see your nipples turn pink and your hips roll as you rub your thighs together.” He laughs softly when I stop the motion—I hadn’t even realized I was doing it. “I thought about sex a lot this last year, but somehow forgot what it was like to watch a woman’s body as she comes. You are…” he trails off and kisses me again, his tongue flicking my lower lip before he finishes against my mouth. “Exceptional. Incredible.”

  I think he’s going to pull away again when he suddenly rolls over onto me, sweeping me under him as he nestles between my legs. That’s all it takes for me to be on fire for him again. I hook my leg back over his—this is fast becoming my very favorite thing to do—and revel in the feel of his body on mine. Bracing on my shoulders, I rub myself against his cock.

  “You’re going to come for me again. I’m not going to fuck you.” He pulls up and laughs when I squirm and make loud protest. “At least not yet. This is what I want. To make that pussy clench on my fingers again.” He dips low and runs his tongue along the top of my breasts. “And to make you come on my tongue until you scream my name. Then, maybe I’ll fuck you. Maybe.” He says it on a growl, pressing his cock against me and lowering his mouth to my nipple. He presses it gently between his teeth, and then licks the sting away, tugging my head back by my hair when I buck under him again.

  “Fine,” I say hotly, lifting again. “What’s in it for me?”

  He winces. “You mean other than—"

  “I told you last night,” I interrupt. “You’re paying me to be here, but not to be in your bed. So, if I agree to let you hold out on me—” I stop and grind up hard with my pussy, feeling the wetness seeping through my panties as I rub up on his cock, and I only stop when I feel him shudder, helpless to keep from surging back. “What’s in it for me?”

  James looks supremely wolf-like again when in one smooth move he rears up on his knees and yanks my dress the rest of the way down, whipping it off my legs and tossing it across the room. I’m in nothing but the sheer thong and stockings now, my stilettos digging deep into the feather bed.

  I don’t waste any time either, and the buttons on his shirt finally go flying as I rip both sides open and yank it off his shoulders, exposing his chest. The muscles underneath are exactly what my fingertips told me he would be: James’s body is hard and chiseled from hours and hours in the gym and out on the slopes. I have only a second to bite playfully into one of his pecs and go for his belt before he’s pinned me to the bed again, only this time holding my arms low as he slides down and muscles his way between my thighs, holding them open.

  He’s so strong, he can keep me as still as he wants as he slows down again and nuzzles my panties. I freeze anyway, the brush of his mouth against my inner thighs making me throb. With a low growl, he nuzzles my panties aside and drags his tongue over my swollen folds, lapping lazily at my clit.

  One expert whirl of his tongue around my swollen clit, and I’m coming undone. I feel a swell of ecstasy as the peak hits me, and then I can’t think at all as I’m coming on his tongue, screaming his name, just as he said I would.

  Several minutes later, I realize he isn’t holding me down anymore. My fingers are buried in his hair, and he’s just laving the lips of my slit and kissing my thighs. He’s taken me through all the aftershocks, let me close my thighs around his head while I finished, and then followed me down as I lay limp and open for him.

  I’m lying there, panting, when he paws his way back up to me and kisses me. My lips are soft and limp like the rest of me, but the feel of James’s hot, hard body over mine is just too good to let go. I feel heavy and completely blissed out, and yet the heat rushes back everywhere he touches me.

  He takes my head between his hands and kisses me, so thoroughly and for so long that I’m out of breath when he pulls back. At the moment, I’m still too languorous and limp to have much strength, but I loop my forearm behind his neck and hang on before he can pull away again. He smiles and looks down the length of my body.

  “You don’t think I’m done with you, do you?”

  I push my fingers into his hair, tug his lips back to mine. “I know you’re not. Because I’m not through with you.” I’m not exactly sure how I’m going to get the strength in my limbs to move again, but I say the words anyway. And when I feel the hard ridge of his cock against the inside of my thighs again, both of us realize I’m not bluffing.

  I slip my hand down between us, working one of them into his pants and cupping his bulge. He goes rigid in my arms, growing even harder in my palm, and something in the back of my brain whispers a little warning. He’s huge in my hand, thick and long, with weighty balls that press against my hand.

  “I want you inside me.” No whispers, just a continuous, vicious stroke of my palm on his cock and my voice, sure and purring, in his ear.

  “Darcy…”

  “I loved your fingers. I loved your mouth on me. Now I want to feel you. Fuck me, James.”

  I bite his neck, suck at the flesh there. My knees are bent, locked tight around his waist, making him feel the heat between my legs. He relents enough so I can get his belt loose and open his fly. I have his pants halfway down his hips, moaning and encouraging him, when he grabs my hands in one of his and presses them into the bed above my head. With his other hand, he holds his cock down at the base and rubs the head around my entrance. God—he feels so big against the swollen lips of my pussy.

  “This is what you want?”

  I nudge against him. “Yes!”

  “This.” He pushes his fingers into my cunt, teasing at my entrance until I’m lifting my hips, begging him. “I want you inside. Please!”

  “
Shh.” He presses his mouth over mine and thrusts his fingers deeper. Then he slowly draws them out. I watch, holding my breath as he palms his thick head, then presses it against my core and looks into my eyes.

  “Please, James.”

  On those words, he shoves into me, filling me so thoroughly I scream. Stretched completely by his cock, I buck under him, taking him all the way, my legs locked tight around him. He let my hands go when he pushed inside, which was probably a mistake. I’m clawing his back, gripping his arms while he fucks me so hard that I’m seeing stars. I can’t help the heady cries that rise out of my throat as he pumps and pulls, then pumps and slowly pulls out, rubbing his cock against my clit so that I’m throbbing with the need for release even as his huge cock makes me gasp and writhe.

  It feels so good, my eyes start leaking tears as we’re lost to the rhythm of our hips. I cry out as pleasure barrels through me, opening my eyes in time to see the look of bliss on his face, too, as we both come undone.

  I tuck my head gently into the hollow of his chest while James strokes my hair. It’s a lovers’ embrace. And surreal.

  “James?” I whisper after some time.

  “Mmm.”

  “Do you need me to go?”

  He sounded drowsy before, but his body starts softly, his chest jumping under my cheek. “What? Why?”

  Before I can answer, he tugs my chin up and presses a soft kiss to my lips. “I want you to stay right here.” We both hum a little as the kiss continues, sleepy and playful, and I have to chuckle at how decadent it feels to luxuriate in bed with this beautiful man beside me.

  “I don’t want to push you too soon. Especially since this is…” I trail off. I’m sleepy too, and suddenly the worry doesn’t feel worth waking up for.