by Lora Leigh
“I want him with every cell of my body, Khalid,” she whispered longingly. “I’ve wanted him like this since I was little more than a child. Before I ever knew what sexual heat could be, or how intense it could become, I have felt this for Ian.” His hooded gaze raked over her breasts as he sat in the seat across from her, his dark gaze hot and filled with lust.
“I’ve shared women with Ian before, little chick. He won’t go easy on you.” She heard the warning in his voice.
“It isn’t easy I wish,” she breathed hungrily, shifting on the leather, her thighs tightening at the thought that soon, very, very soon she would face Ian once again.
Perhaps a hungrier Ian. One who had given up the battle to keep her from his bed.
Khalid’s expression became more sensual, heavy with desire as his eyes glittered with intent, though he said nothing more. She could see his thoughts though, the lust that built slowly during the drive, the erection that thickened beneath his pants.
She drew in a slow, deep breath as the limo pulled in front of the steps that led to the house. She waited patiently until the chauffeur opened the door, helping her from the backseat as Khalid followed.
Her heart was racing in her chest, her juices collecting between her thighs and slickening the swollen folds of her pussy as the butler opened the door. Warmth spilled from the house as they stepped inside, sexual tension immediately whipping around them as Ian stepped from the receiving room to the side.
His eyes were wild. The Irish blue glittered beneath thick black lashes as his gaze went first to Khalid, then to her.
“Good evening, Ian,” Khalid was the first to speak, his voice thickening as his hand slid from her back to the curve of her hip. “As you can see, I’ve delivered her safe and sound.”
“So you have,” Ian growled as he gestured to the butler to leave.
The other man nodded and retreated toward the back of the house.
“I believe it must surely be my bedtime.” Courtney ignored the racing of her blood and the arousal destroying her.
She turned and smiled back at Khalid as she reached up and kissed his cheek lingeringly. “I had a very pleasant evening.”
“No more than I, sweet one,” he said, his voice dark with lust. “I will look forward to seeing you again soon.”
“Ian.” She turned back to him, ignoring the dangerous stillness of his body.
“Goodnight. Perhaps I’ll see you in the morning.” 41
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“I think not.” He surprised her.
He moved quickly, standing before her, tall and broad and aroused as he stared down at her, blocking her way to the stairs.
Courtney lifted a brow mockingly. “It is rather late, Ian.” She was aware of Khalid watching the byplay with hot interest.
“Did he touch you?” There was no jealousy in his voice, but rather avid hunger.
“And would you care?” she asked him with a smile, a deliberately sensual curve of her lips, rather like the one she had seen her mother giving her father when teasing him unbearably.
She watched his eyes darken. His gaze flickered to Khalid.
“Did you touch her?”
“She belongs to you,” Khalid said softly then. “I know the rules of The Club, Ian.
Even those unspoken.”
Fire bit into her nipples as Ian’s gaze flickered to them.
“Such games you play,” she said with a sigh. “I thought you were a bit more honest about your desires, Ian. Such whimsies do not become you.” She frowned as she moved to the side to pass by him. He was there again, shifting to keep her in front in of him.
“I’ve wondered this evening,” he said, his hands reaching out to slide the shoulders of her jacket from her. “If you are as brave, as courageous in your desires as you appear to be. Are you, Courtney?”
“It would appear more so than you, Ian.” She shrugged the jacket off herself, allowing it to fall to the floor at her feet as he gripped her arms, less than gently, turning her quickly and half-carrying her into the living/receiving room he had vacated moments before.
* * * * *
Courtney had no idea what happed to Khalid. To be perfectly honest, at that moment, she really didn’t care. Others had no place in this first confrontation between her and Ian. No audience was needed in this first, subtle battle that would decide if she would become special to him, or merely the little girl who forced him to take her to his bed despite his best intentions.
He was fighting sheer habit, that she knew. His friendship with her father changed the rules for her, made taking her more difficult for him. She had to win this first confrontation, prove to him that she was more, that she was different from the others. It wasn’t his lifestyle that drew her to him, as it was with the other lovers who had sought him out. It was Ian, his touch, his heart, that drew her. The rest was merely a sweet little fringe benefit.
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She twisted out of his grip inside the room, swinging around to face him as he stared at her with dark, glittering eyes.
“What now?” She propped her hands on her hips as she watched him, allowing a daring smile to shape her lips, a challenge, one that said she didn’t believe he would follow through with whatever wicked thoughts were racing through his mind. And they were wicked. She could see it in the heavy sensuality that tightened his expression, the way his eyes narrowed on her.
That look speared straight to her pussy, causing the cream gathering in her vagina to ease slowly along the bare folds beyond.
“What do you think?” Ah yes, he was angry. She could see the anger pulsing inside him, mixing with the arousal, pushing his boundaries, testing his control.
She lifted her shoulder negligently. “I have no clue, Ian. Should I strip for you?” She spread her arms wide. “Or should I go to my knees for you? I’ve not truly researched the proper rules of a submissive, as it’s not the role I intend to really play, so perhaps you should tell me what is expected of me next.” Her arms fell to her sides then as she stared back at him questioningly. Not that she expected much of a fair answer from him. If she knew anything about angry men, it was that they would cut their noses off to spite their faces. They were stubborn, arrogant, and more likely to deny the obvious than to admit to it. Such stubborn creatures, she sighed regretfully.
“You think being such a naughty little girl is cute, don’t you, Courtney.” Oh shit. How had he picked on one of her favorite fantasies so damned fast? It was one that often left her wakening, damp with perspiration, her thighs quivering with the need for release, the cheeks of her ass clenching in remembered heat as she dreamed of his palm landing heavily on her rear.
“Am I being naughty, Ian?” The fingers of one hand moved to the small emerald ring piercing her navel as she played with it with studied laziness. “I thought I was quite well behaved. Of course, you always have the option of punishing me. Would you like to punish me?” She deliberately adopted a softer, more innocent tone as she allowed her eyes to widen in mock surprise. “Spank me,” she breathed seductively.
“Spank me so good.”
His gaze glittered, wilder, hotter.
“You think you know me,” he growled then. “You think your soft little dreams are safe with me and this is all a game you can play. It’s not a game, Courtney. This isn’t a sexual taste for me, it’s a lifestyle, and what I demand of you will be nothing compared to what you think you know.”
“Have I acted as though I were playing a game?” She arched a brow mockingly. “I know more about you than you could ever believe, Ian. I’m very well aware of the fact that it isn’t a game.” Her heart and life were very serious matters to her. “My question is, are you?”
“Are you still a virgin?” It was a question she had expected.
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“Only in your dreams.” Her gaze flicked to his fists as they clenched in the pockets of his
slacks, stretching the material over the thick erection beneath. “Do you dream of that, Ian? Of taking my innocence? Of being the first? Had I known that, I wouldn’t have been so eager to rid myself of it.”
But she knew better. She knew Ian well enough, and had overheard her parents discussing him enough to know he would have never been comfortable taking her virginity. He would have regretted it, and she didn’t want that for him, or for herself.
“Never,” he snapped. “If I wanted a bloody virgin I could find one any day.”
“But not a bloody virgin named Courtney,” she reminded him sweetly. “You may have missed out on the shield of purity but there is still much you can teach me.
Wouldn’t you like to instruct me, Ian?” She moved closer, deliberately teasing him, taunting him. “To teach me your pleasures? To leave me screaming in shock and desire?
You may not be the first to touch me, but you will be the first to possess me, perhaps.” He grabbed her shoulders, his grip snug, almost tight as he pushed her to the nearby chair before stepping away. The strength and dominance in the act was enough to weaken her knees. The implications of his weakening control had her blood singing in exhilaration.
“Bend over the chair,” he fairly snarled. “Before this goes any further, I’ll know for certain. Trust me, Courtney, you don’t want me to take you if you are.”
“Oh really, Ian…”
“Now!” The crack of his voice had her shuddering. Dominant, harsh, riding the edge of control. But not out of control. He was determined to hold part of himself back, to maintain a distance with her that she knew she would never survive.
Inside, she was trembling violently, fighting not to beg for his kiss, his touch, for so much more than she knew he was willing to give at the moment. She would have gladly bent over him for him, if it were more than an experiment, a furious test that he felt she would fail.
“I do not think so, Ian,” she snapped right back at him instead. “I am not a puppet for you to command, nor am I a toy for you to tease and taunt as you please. I could get better than this from a gigolo on any street corner.” She turned on her heel and strode to the door, anger tightening her body. Not even a kiss. He had not even kissed her, caressed her, given her so much as indication that he desired more than just the pussy that he believed still yet maintained its purity. Bastard.
She would be damned if she would bend over for him.
“Walk out that door, Courtney, and you may as well forget sharing my bed, at any time.”
“As though your bed is what I am after,” she snorted as she paused, turning back to him, knowing well the lights from the foyer now bathed her body. “Poor Ian. The highest of all Trojans. The master of The Club, dominant extraordinaire. How sad it is that you would allow something as trifling as the suspicion of virginity to stand between you and the hunger I know eats at you. Eats at me. I do not care to submit to 44
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your desire, but never will I submit to your self-inflicted fury that you may want something more than your asinine rules. Go fuck someone willing to bend over and stare at the wall as you satisfy your inane curiosity. I deserve more, and I will be damned if I will accept less.”
She swept through the doorway, grabbing her jacket where it still lay on the marble floor and striding quickly up the stairs. Trepidation rode at her heels as she felt his gaze following her, knew that she was only pushing him further. It wasn’t a choice she could manipulate. She knew Ian would have to be pushed past his very rigid self-control and forced to admit that she was different. If she submitted as any other woman would to him, then she would become little more than one among many who had paraded through his bedroom. She was unique. She belonged solely and completely to him, and he must be forced to admit to this. Her own satisfaction, her very future demanded it.
She had no more than reached the upper landing when she felt him behind her. Tall and hot, overpoweringly sexual as his hands gripped her waist, turning her, pushing her forcibly against the wall a second before his lips possessed hers with a dominant, powerful force that left her knees shaking.
There was no warning, no seeking permission. This wasn’t a man asking for submission, it was a man demanding it. Unwilling to accept anything less. And Courtney found herself helpless in the face of it. Her head fell back into the hand that cupped it, his fingers tangling in her thick hair as he held her in place. Her lips opened, a fractured moan escaping as pleasure surged through every cell of her body. Electric, intense sensation exploded in the pit of her stomach, suffusing her in a wash of pre-orgasmic bliss.
How could the touch of another’s lips bring such pleasure?
Her hands gripped his shoulders, moving frantically over the fine fabric of his shirt before sliding into his hair, gripping the strands, her fingers kneading his scalp as she fought to get closer, to deepen a kiss that already reached to her very soul.
Oh God, he was consuming her.
His tongue licked at hers, twined with it, his head tilting until he could devour her deeper as his hands began to rove over her body. Hands slightly calloused, fingers rasping as he pushed her top over her breasts to allow his fingers free rein on the sensitive swollen mounds.
She would have screamed if she had the breath left in her chest. The pleasure was fiery, destructive, weakening her muscles as she arched into the touch, her hands clenching tighter in his hair as his fingers plucked at her nipples. He pulled at the hard tips until she mewled in frustrated desire, her pussy spasming with need, the hot wash of her cream easing from her vagina to further slicken the bare folds beyond.
Courtney could feel flames licking over her flesh as he suddenly tore his lips free of hers, leaving her fighting to catch her breath as his lips moved along her arched neck, down further, until she felt them cover one violently sensitive nipple.
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“Qué usted hace a mí…?” She shuddered as she slipped into her mother’s language.
“What do you do to me, Ian?” She could barely breathe, let alone think to remember which language to use.
Her head fell back against the wall, her senses trained on each touch Ian bestowed to her flesh. His fingers wrapped around the swollen mound of her breast, flexing, testing the weight and feel of her as the deep suckling motions of his mouth sent wicked shards of sensation shooting through her.
He was sinfully sexual, nipping at her nipple as the fingers of his other hand played with the opposite peak. Every touch, every moved designed to destroy her sanity, to make her pliable. Submissive.
She struggled past the dazed mists filling her head, a small part of her recognizing, in much amusement, the tactics he was employing on her. As though she were one of the countless women he had bedded over the years. To drown her in sensuality, to capture her senses and hold them captive until he was finished. Until he had drawn every measure of pleasure from her body, leaving her weak and exhausted. Unable to make any demands on his heart, because she was insensible with the sensations he had filled her with.
And he was so close to his goal. The pleasure was like a whirlwind, engulfing her, pushing her deeper into the abyss of sexuality that opened wide within her.
It would be a battle.
Her hands moved from his hair, her nails raking against his neck as they moved beneath the collar of his shirt.
He shivered. She felt the telltale tremor as her womb convulsed in response. His hand clenched at her hip, the other in her hair, a muttered growl echoing from his throat.
It was a warning.
She fought to catch her breath, her head lowering against his, her lips at his ear as his hand moved from her hip to her thigh, just below the end of the short, flirty skirt she wore.
“I’m so wet, Ian,” she gasped against his ear, her teeth nipping at the lobe as she tilted her hips to him.
“Shut up.” His lips moved over her reddened nipple, the spike-hard tip so sensitive now that
the caress of his breath against it was nearly painful.
His hand paused on her thigh as he fought for breath.
Her hands slid to the front of his shirt, her fingers gripping the material before she tore it apart, hearing the sound of buttons scattering as satisfaction surged through her.
Ian raised his head, staring back at her as his blue eyes darkened, the flushed features of his face intent, sexual. His fingers tightened on her thigh.
“I’ve been dying to taste you.” Her lips lowered to his neck, her tongue swiping over the rapid pulse that beat just beneath the flesh. “Can I taste you, Ian?” 46
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She had no intention of being gentle. It wasn’t gentleness she wanted, it was Ian, all his hunger, all his sexuality, and she would give him nothing less in return. Her teeth scraped over his collarbone, her tongue flickered rapidly over his flat, hard male nipple before she nipped at it playfully.
“Damn you, Courtney.” He sounded less than pleased with the hard shudder that raced through his body.
She bent her knees, her fingers moving to the waistband of his slacks.
Her mouth watered.
The hard wedge of his cock was just before her eyes, hidden by nothing more than the fabric of his clothing.
The belt was disposed of quickly, despite her shaking hands.
As her finger slid the metal clasp of his slacks free, her head tilted back, her eyes locking with his. She gripped the tab of the zipper, licked her lips and pulled it down slowly.
Ian watched carefully, seeing the daring in Courtney’s eyes, the challenge in her expression as she slowly released the zipper of his pants, pulling apart the material before hooking her hands in the band of his underwear briefs and releasing his straining cock.
Her hands were like silken flames. It was all he could do to stay still, to endure her teasing, taunting gaze, her soft fingers wrapping around his dick, stroking it, threatening the self-control that had always been so much a part of him.