by Lee Taylor
He smiled, shaking his head. "Don't be embarrassed. It's flattering you want me as much as you do."
He tossed her undies into the waste basket. "Won't need those again."
He pressed her hands to her thighs. "Now, keep your hands at your sides while I look at you. I might touch, but you must stay still."
Despite the heat in the room, she felt gooseflesh march across her back while he circled her, appraising every inch. Keeping still was easy until someone said you had to. Like when the X-ray technician told you to take a deep breath and not move, your body developed uncontrollable twitches. How could Michael fail to notice the love handles?
"You're twitching," he said sternly.
"Sorry, sir."
Without warning he tweaked her nipples. She groaned as an overwhelming need to be filled arrowed through her.
"I didn't say you could groan, Jessie."
Her breath caught.
Their eyes met.
He narrowed his. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing, sir. A weird déjà vu."
"Funny. I had one too."
He shrugged it off, putting his hands on her shoulders. "Time for you to kneel, Jessie."
~~~
In the latter years of Michael's marriage to Linda, taking off his clothes had been no big deal. She rarely paid attention before his coronary. Once he started making suggestions about spicing up their love life, she avoided looking at him when he was naked.
Even with the women he'd dated after his divorce, stripping off had been part of the process to be accomplished quickly.
Now, he had an urge to strut like a Chippendales dancer--for Jessie. He had the body for it. The hours of exercise and the discipline of ignoring junk food cravings were suddenly worth it. All he lacked was the bow tie.
She knelt at his feet, head bowed, hands resting on her thighs, palms up, the classic supplicant position. She was trying hard to please him. He swallowed the lump in his throat.
"I want you to watch," he reminded her, slipping off his Crocs.
She raised her head slowly, eyes burning with need. "Yes, sir."
She never took her eyes off him as he undid his Hawaiian print shirt, one slow button at a time. He shrugged it from his shoulders, letting it fall to the tiled floor.
She licked her lips and shifted position slightly.
He arched his brow.
"Sorry, sir. Tiles are hard on the knees."
He felt badly. He hadn't considered that. Few floors in Panama were carpeted. He grabbed a pillow from the bed and eased it under her knees. "Better?"
She nodded. "Thank you, sir."
"Now, where was I?"
He undid the button of his Bermudas, then slid the zipper down slowly. He chuckled inwardly as he wiggled his hips provocatively to slide the shorts down his legs, kicking them away when they bunched around his ankles.
An amusing thought went through his head. Strippers ripped off their last bit of clothing from the front, like in The Full Monty. He'd have to look into that.
Jessie was almost salivating, her eyes fixed on the bulge at his groin. He'd made fun of her old-maid knickers, but his plain Jockey shorts weren't much better. They'd definitely have to embark on a shopping expedition for sexier underwear in the near future.
He paused, his thumbs in the elastic waistband. Better forewarn Jessie. Or maybe he wanted to see her first reaction. He fixed his eyes on her face, and dropped his drawers.
For a moment he thought she was about to spring up like a frog and leap on him. Her eyes widened, a flush spreading over her face and breasts. She squirmed on the pillow. "Please, sir," she rasped.
"Please what?" he asked in a voice he barely recognised, hoping it sounded Dom-like.
"Please may I lick that magnificent cock, sir?"
Hell! Jessie had quickly lost her inhibitions. Perhaps she too felt the rightness of their relationship.
He stood in front of her, legs braced, his cock inches from her mouth. He tilted up her chin, then bent to kiss her. Her lips were warm. He tasted wine and woman. She opened and welcomed his tongue with hers, groaning when he tweaked her nipples. Pleasure raced through his veins as more blood rushed to his cock. He tore his mouth away from hers. "Lick me, Jessie, and after you've done that, you can suck me as much as you like."
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Jessie had never put her mouth on her first husband, and sucking Radu was an imposition. Now she was consumed with a desire to touch her tongue to the tip of Michael's impressive penis.
And Radu foolishly thought he had the world's biggest cock!
It would be worth enduring a minute of her ex-husband's presence so she could laugh in his face. Michael's thick length set a whole new standard Radu didn't come even close to.
She'd waited a lifetime for a man who could ignite her sexually, and here he stood, naked and aroused before her. Just looking at him filled her with emotions and wants she'd only read about. She was on fire for him, wanting to bring him pleasure, a notion she'd never really cared about with either husband. They seemed to get off without much help from her.
She looked up at Michael's face. His expectant smile sent winged creatures fluttering in her belly. She curled her hand around his penis and licked the swollen tip.
A growl emerged from deep in his throat that echoed between her legs, making her inner muscles clench and pulsate.
She twirled her tongue around him, tasting salt. But licking wasn't enough. She wanted to eat him. She increased her grip and took him into her mouth. He groaned her name, pressing his fingers against her scalp.
She moved her hand on him slowly, up and down, up and down, echoing the movement with her mouth, feeling him grow even bigger. She felt empowered. He'd given himself over to her, trusted her.
Her clit throbbed in rhythm with her sucking.
He pulled away, his face a mask of barely held control. "Stop now, or I'll come in your mouth."
The idea of a man ejaculating in her mouth had always repulsed Jessie. Now it seemed erotically appealing. She sank back, bowing her head. She wouldn't question him.
"This first time I want to be buried deep inside you."
He took her hands and helped her to her feet, then scooped her up like he had on the beach. He put one knee on the bed and laid her down gently, brushing a kiss on each nipple that almost sent her over the edge. "Now, Jessie, I know you don't yet trust me 100 per cent, so I want you just to raise your hands over your head, and pretend I've restrained you."
Jessie was so aroused she was afraid she might come just listening to his voice.
"I know you want to come, but not yet."
She nodded, clenching the muscles of her vagina.
He took hold of each ankle and gently spread her legs wide. "Same with your feet. I'm not going to bind you, but you're not allowed to close your legs."
He stared at her opening. Could he tell she was throbbing--and wet? With her legs open he'd see when she clenched her muscles in an effort to delay her orgasm.
"Beautiful. Wet. Dark."
She whimpered.
"Not long now, love. But one thing isn't going to be pretence. He sauntered over to the dresser and retrieved the eye mask. "I want you to trust me enough to wear this."
She wondered what the punishment would be for saying no, but strangely, she did trust him. "I'll wear it, sir."
He put the mask over her eyes, adjusting the strap to fit behind her head. "That's my girl."
In the darkness his voice sounded just like--
But it couldn't be.
She waited in the silence that followed, chewing her bottom lip, teetering on the edge of an orgasm.
The bed dipped. He pushed her legs apart a bit more as he came to kneel between them. She held her breath. Being unable to see heightened other senses. A cricket chirped out in the hallway. The bathroom tap was dripping. Michael was breathing faster.
Where would he touch her first?
He touched his fingertips to her
thighs, sending little shivers up her spine. He massaged as he moved closer and closer to her slit. She arched her hips off the bed when he put his thumbs to her outer lips. She'd never felt so exposed.
"You're so fucking beautiful," he said, just before he parted her inner lips and swiped his tongue over her clit.
She writhed as he licked and sucked and licked, but he curled his arms around her legs, holding her fast.
"Michael," she rasped, scarcely able to catch her breath. Without thinking she ran her hands through his hair. He pulled away, turned her hips slightly, and smacked her bottom. "I asked you to keep your hands above your head. Put them back, or we stop right now."
She complied instantly. "Sorry, sir."
"That's better. Would you like a finger now?"
What Jessie wanted was that magnificent cock, but she knew what he expected. "Please, sir, I'd like your finger in me."
~~~
The self control it took to be a good Dom was killing Michael. He was surprised his sperm hadn't erupted like molten lava from a volcano. His body was shaking with need. But there was a lot riding on this first joining with Jessie. Her words rattled round in his brain.
Please, sir. I want your finger in me.
Last time a woman had said that to him--
Jessie's throbbing slit beckoned, pulsing, wet, dark and light pinks. He traced a finger over her nub, then slid inside, curling it to massage her G Spot. She moaned, clamping her muscles on him, close to climax.
"Not yet, Jessie."
He withdrew his finger then plunged in two.
She screamed, arching her back.
He thrust again, then withdrew and slid in three fingers.
Fuck! The last woman who'd taken three fingers--
His cock took over his brain. He moved quickly to position his penis at her entrance, and plunged in deep.
She growled, wrapping her legs around his hips. He knew she'd done it without thinking, but it was an act of disobedience he'd punish later. He sure as hell wasn't going to stop now.
Her inner heat made him dizzy. She matched him stroke for stroke as he pounded into her. She arched her neck, fists clenched above her head. A primal possessiveness swept over him. He would kill to protect the woman beneath him. She completed him, touched his soul in a way no woman ever had. He wanted to give her the best damn orgasm of her life, because he knew that, when it came, his was going to be earth shattering.
Her body went rigid. She stopped breathing for what seemed like an eternity. Had she fainted? He was too far gone to do anything about it if she had. His balls drew up. Relief surged when she finally inhaled a deep shuddering breath, shouting out her release in short, sharp cries, over and over, her muscles pulsating around him.
Follie! Gioir!
He wasn't sure if he'd yelled Violetta's words out loud as he exploded inside Jessie.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Michael checked his watch. Given the two hour time difference, Jack Taylor should be in his office in Victoria. He'd rather stay where he was, lounging by the beach with Jessie. But duty called.
"I have to go back to my room to make a call to Canada," he said, cupping Jessie's face with his hand. "Business. Won't take long."
She made a little moue of fake annoyance, but kissed his hand. "Yes, sir. I'll be fine. The hermit crabs will keep me amused. Actually, I should get back to my writing. I've accomplished almost nothing since I've been here."
He winked. "You've been busy with other things."
She smiled the smile that always captured the interest of the little swimmers in his balls. "I'll be back."
His guest room was only a few yards away. He speed dialled Taylor Construction's number. After two rings, Melanie answered.
"Hey, Melanie. It's Michael Atherton calling again. Is Jack back from vacation?"
"Mr. Atherton. You called about the Glazebrook project. Just a moment, I'll check."
A good receptionist for a professional company would know if one of its senior managers had returned from a vacation. Melanie was giving her boss the opportunity to decline his call.
"Jack Taylor here."
Michael was taken aback. He'd prepared himself for the brush off. "Hello, Jack, my name is Michael Atherton. I was in Phil Glazebrook's new offices the other day. Very impressive. I have a similar project I'd like to undertake."
"Sure. I can take a look."
Michael had anticipated this. "I'm actually in Panama right now."
The truth was always the best cover.
"Panama! Hot there?"
"Yeah. Tell me, did you encounter any unusual problems with the project?"
"Unusual? No, not really. There are always unforeseen snags that crop up on any major reno, but all in all, it's a well-built house, and we were restricted by some of the covenants of the Heritage Commission."
"Probably the same in Vancouver, I guess?"
"That's where your property is located? Is it a Heritage house?"
The conversation was getting off track. "Mmm," he mumbled. "I believe the Glazebrook house used to belong to a Mrs. Johnson. Did you meet her?"
Jack Taylor hesitated. "Why do you ask?"
"No particular reason. I was just wondering what she thought of her home being so drastically changed, that's all. Must be hard for old folks. I heard Glazebrook bought it for next to nothing."
"Yeah. He got a bargain all right."
Michael detected a note of envy. He was about to tell Taylor he'd be in touch, when the other man spoke again. "I thought I glimpsed a face at a small window one day, but that was in back, high up in a part of the house we didn't have access to--not included in the reno. Don't know if that was her. I guess maybe there are apartments back there. Most of the Maclures in this city have been converted to multiple dwellings."
A warning light blinked on in Michael's head. "Thanks. I'll be in touch later now I know you're available to work in Vancouver."
"Sure thing, but we're pretty busy. We'll need some leeway. And you'll have to get permits, and so on. We can help with that. Who's your architect?"
"Er, I'm talking to a couple. Who did Glazebrook use?"
Michael jotted down the name he recognised instantly. May as well stroke Taylor's ego before he ended the call. "Thanks. Appreciate it. I want the job done right."
An hour later, he'd spoken in his official capacity with the architect, who told him Glazebrook was insistent on certain parts of the house being totally off-limits. Michael explained the confidential nature of his enquiries. He didn't want the architect calling Glazebrook.
A call to City Hall revealed the house had never been issued a permit for multiple dwellings. If there were apartments, they were illegal. The only permitted use was as commercial offices.
Rockland wasn't far from downtown, but how had Glazebrook swung that in a predominantly residential neighborhood?
Was Matilda Johnson the elderly lady Taylor had glimpsed? If so, what was going on?
He should get back to Victoria. He'd gotten so wrapped up in Jessie he hadn't even met with Traw Hunter about the condo building, the main reason he'd come back to Panama.
He made three more calls, one to Hunter's office in David, the second to Air Panama, and lastly he called COPA Airlines.
He took a shower, packed his bag, tucked his horn carefully into its case, then went to check out. He was doing what had to be done, but his gut was in knots as he locked his luggage in the rental car.
By the time he got back to the beach, Jessie had moved into the shade of the rancho.
He kissed the top of her head. "That took longer than I expected."
"It's okay." She waved her kindle. "I was reading."
He moved a beach chair so he could sit facing her. He reached for her hands. "Listen, Jessie. Something urgent's come up. I have to drive to David this afternoon."
"Do you want me to come with you?" she asked, smiling broadly.
"I have business there--the investment I told you about." Th
is was going to be hard. "Then I'm taking the evening flight to Panama City."
Her hands stiffened. The smile turned to a pout. "Panama City?"
"I have to get back to Victoria. It's an urgent case. I've managed to get a seat on the COPA flight to Toronto, and--"
"You're leaving?"
"I don't want to, but a woman's life may depend on it."
He could tell by the look on her face she didn't believe him. Even he thought his fears were perhaps exaggerated. He stood, pulling her to her feet. She'd eased the tantalizing swimsuit down to reveal the tops of her areolas. He still couldn't believe the size of the pale haloes. His body responded. He pressed his arousal against her. "Jessie, there is nothing I'd like more right now than to drag you off to bed and fuck you till you see stars. I'll be waiting for you when you get home."
He kissed her, savoring a hint of the maple syrup she'd poured on her oatmeal. She didn't resist, but there was no fire in her kiss. "Kiss me properly, Jessie. You're mine, and I don't want to leave."
She sagged against him, tears in her eyes. "Thanks for your company," she rasped. "I foolishly thought--"
He had to assure her of his commitment. "I'm not ditching you. This is my job. Besides, I owe you a punishment."
He felt the shiver that arrowed through her. She knitted her brows. "A punishment?"
"Yes, I'll have days to decide what I'm going to do to you for wrapping your legs around me when I told you to keep them apart. You can think on that till we meet again."
~~~
Jessie stared at the ocean, unable to stop the tears. Michael had insisted she not see him off. What a fool she'd been, allowing herself to be lulled into trusting him. What had it taken--two days? He was probably congratulating himself on the speed of his conquest. He knew more about her than anyone. No doubt she'd become the laughing stock of whatever office he worked for.
Oh, by the way, that bestselling author of those porn books. I've had her, man--nothing to write home about, believe me.
He'd rocked her world, and now she would suffer the consequences. She'd have to call Gary, beg his help, after she'd chewed him out. Surely he could convince his brother not to spread rumors. Victoria might be the capital of British Columbia but people there had a small town mentality. It was Gary's fault they'd been thrown together. Let him untangle the mess.