We collapsed in a heap, him covering me almost completely, both of us heedless of our state of dress, or that we were lying on the floor.
“Tessa, Tessa,” he moaned as he ran his hands over my head, shoulders and back. “Good Lord Woman, what you do to me! I can’t begin to tell you what that was like.”
“I was there, remember?”
“We’re damned good together,” he whispered as he kissed the back of my neck.
“Yes,” I whispered over my shoulder.
A few minutes later, he crawled off me and helped me up, “I would say the jewelry did its job. I barely had time to get my hands on you before you exploded.”
“There is something to that anticipation stuff. Do they make jewelry like that for you?”
He chuckled. “I’m not about to let you find out. I can barely handle you now.”
“Does that mean you’re not tying me up with silk scarves tonight?”
He picked me up by my waist and threw me backward onto the bed, hard enough so that I bounced on the plush bed and then he strode for the bathroom.
“I’m going to have another bottle of champagne sent up and if after drinkin’ that if you want to go another round or two, I’ll try to muster up the energy. Meanwhile I suggest you preserve that lovely gown.”
Chapter Sixteen
Enslaved We sat in our robes against the headboard sipping champagne, nibbling on cheese and talking. I heard all about the upcoming trial of the harbor pilot who had managed to snag part of the hull of an old shipwreck while berthing an oil tanker and tore a hole big enough for thousands of gallons of oil to leak out. Roman, as an expert on Charleston Harbor, was there to testify that underwater currents often moved all manner of things on the ocean floor without the benefit of a storm and that there would be no way of knowing something had shifted and become a hazard unless you scuba dived twice daily with the tides.
The poor man was about to lose everything he’d worked twenty-seven years for, plus possibly serve jail time. He was concerned for his twin daughters entering college this year and for a son who was disabled. You could tell that Roman felt strongly about the culpability of tankers leaking oil into harbors, but that in this case, he didn’t feel the pilot was responsible. He would have known that the storm the night before had wreaked havoc on the ocean floor close to Charleston Harbor but he wouldn’t have known that a tug pulling salvage had lost part of its load in one of the channels as the tug operator had chosen not to relay that to the harbor master at the time.
But a week later, a sailboat captain who had seen the tug’s load shift and slide into the water came forward to report the incident. Roman made several dives and actually chanced to see the iron carcass in question tumble and roll with the wave action on the ocean floor. It had ended on its side with a large rusty beam pointed up at angle waiting for the next unsuspecting ship to come along and be sliced. That had proved to him that even he wouldn’t have been aware of the impending danger and he recommended that the iron hull and cross members be either dismantled and left on the ocean floor or brought up and removed.
As we sipped and nibbled, he stroked my arm and continually rearranged my robe to uncover me. He drank champagne pooled from my navel and licked rivulets of the cold sparkling wine from my nipples. After the second glass I was nodding off, so I was bundled up and turned on my side so he could snuggle his body into mine. I felt him shift to turn off the light and then resettle next to me. If there was ever a feeling more satisfying than his arms securely wrapped around me and his warm breath fanning my ear as he fell into a deep slumber beside me, I’ve never felt it.
When I woke he was gone, the bed sheets beside me cool. There was a note apologizing for “running out of steam” and promising to do better tonight. He wrote in the note that he had ordered room service to bring breakfast to me at ten and said that if it were at all possible, he’d stop by during the lunch recess.
I stretched leisurely, used the bathroom which had the lingering smell of his aftershave, then found a yoga program on TV to exercise to and took a long hot bath.
Breakfast arrived twenty minutes later and I was ready for it, famished in fact. I had forgotten how hungry sex made you. The snack of cheese and crackers at one a.m. had been a godsend; but now I was ravenous.
Roman had ordered quite an assortment. I nibbled on croissants, picked at fruit and devoured a vegetarian omelet. I was constantly thrilled that he remembered I was a vegetarian. Roman was by far the most considerate man I had ever met, surely the most considerate lover.
Little did I know that come lunchtime, I would consider crossing that last assessment off my list. At twelve thirty I heard Roman’s key in the door. I was sitting at the desk with my foot propped on an open drawer polishing my toenails when the door closed loudly behind him. I heard him throw the slide for the dead bolt and looked over at him. There was a savage look in his eyes and I would have found that to be disconcerting, except that the raw emotion I saw in his eyes could easily have been one of passion not rage.
“You look mighty fine in my robe.” The steely glints in his eyes shocked me. Maybe I was wrong, maybe he was angry.
“It was handy.” “Well I’d like it back.” His voice was gruff, brusque really. It unnerved me.
“Don’t get in a huff, I’ll give it back.”
“Now.”
He appeared majorly peeved and I couldn’t imagine why that would be. Unless maybe he was toying with me. Playacting maybe . . . I could not tell. Then I saw a tiny hint of a smile at the corner of his lips. Oh I see where this is going, I thought, warming to the idea of a nooner.
I finished my baby toe, put the brush back in the bottle and twisted it closed. Then I stood and let the robe fall off my shoulders, catching it on its way to the carpet and tossing it over to him.
“There, it’s all yours.”
I was standing naked in front of the desk, and since there was a large mirror behind it, he was privy to every part of my body at once. I watched his eyes flash with interest and his nose flare with intent.
Without saying a word, he picked up the robe and stripped the belt from it. Then he dropped the robe to the floor as he eyed me from across the room.
“This is the city of four-poster beds, every room in this hotel has one. I insist on four-poster beds when making reservations in other cities and I often hear a note of hesitation in the reservation clerk’s voice.”
“Why do you insist on four-poster beds?”
“It’s hard to tie a woman to a sleigh bed and although I appreciate a padded headboard when I’m slamming her into it, again, there’s no place to secure her, to keep her where you want her for as long as you want her there.”
He was sounding just a bit odd and the gleam in his eye a tad feral. I hate to say it, but I was intrigued, excited, when I probably should have been scared out of my wits.
He advanced on me, tugging on the plush belt and winding it suggestively over his wrists, shortening the length. When he was right next to me, looking down from his great height, I took in a deep breath to breathe him in. He was civilized in his dress, but not in his manner. And if there’s such a thing as being able to scent a man in heat, I was doing it.
“You trust me, don’t you,” he whispered, leaning close to my ear.
I looked up into eyes so remarkably intense and focused that I knew at that moment he owned the universe and me in it.
“Yes.”
“Not afraid?”
“No.”
“Then get on the bed and splay yourself for me.” It was said in a tone that implied he expected and would accept no argument.
Playfully, I ran a finger down his smooth cheek and then walked past him to the bottom of the bed. I managed to climb up onto the high mattress and did a seductive wag of my bottom as I crawled to the top. I centered myself, flipped over and spread-eagled my arms and legs. I had my head on a pillow and lifted it so I could I could see him between my legs on the other side of the room.
He hadn’t moved from where he stood but he hadn’t missed a thing. I could see from the way he was breathing that by complying and giving him what he wanted, I had set in motion certain primal urges.
Within minutes he had me tied hand and foot using both the sashes from his robe and mine, a tie he pulled from around his neck, and another he had in his suitcase. I was trussed and as vulnerable as I had ever been.
His cell phone rang and he pulled it from his pocket. While he talked to the caller he walked around the bed examining me quite thoroughly. A light caress on my belly, a quick knead to the underside of a breast, a tweak to a nipple followed by a long tug, then two thumbs delved between my thighs to separate my nether lips while he held the phone to his ear with his shoulder and then leaned down to examine me. I should have been outraged; instead I was getting incredibly turned on. What he was doing should not have excited me, but it did. I felt myself gushing right before his piercing, hot eyes. He was making me feel beautiful and desired in a way that a woman needs to feel desired, in a man’s basest, most prurient nature. His thumb grazed the top of my slit in a manner I knew was intentional but came off as calloused and impersonal.
He walked over to the desk and pulled the desk chair up to the foot of the bed, sat in it and stared as if mesmerized by my denuded womanhood at the end of my long legs. All the while he was listening to and talking to whomever had called. During a long span where he was listening to the caller, and mumbling, umm hmm over and over again, he leaned forward and pushed out on my knees so they would part and improve his view. Then I heard him say, “Okay, I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” He snapped the phone shut and when I looked down between my legs I saw him stand and move the chair back, not once taking his eyes off of my body displayed so openly in front of him. It was an incredibly heady feeling; I was becoming very wet in the area he was so intently perusing and my hips were lifting, seeking contact—a caress of any kind in just the right area would be oh so welcome.
“I have to go back to court. But I shouldn’t be long, no more than an hour or so. I’m going to leave you just like this, so you’ll be ready for me when I get back. I’ll put the Do Not Disturb sign on the door so you won’t have to worry about housekeeping.”
He slid a small penknife into my right hand, the blade already open. “In case of fire.” Then he leaned down and kissed me lightly on my lips while gently cupping one breast. The nipple ached for his touch and I think he knew it by the way I lifted and forced it to fill his hand, but he sadistically avoided touching the nipple. His fingers trailed lightly down my body, sliding between my legs, then his middle finger found my slit, slid down to my channel and thrust inside.
“Nicely presented, but not quite hot enough yet. But you will be by the time I get back. He withdrew his finger, bent low and licked me where his finger had just been, before standing and adjusting his collar to accept a tie. He was looking down at me with heat in his eyes and an expression of hunger that did my heart good. He grabbed a tie from his suitcase and put it on while walking over to the mirror above the desk to adjust the knot. I could see his eyes looking at me over his shoulder. He let them roam suggestively over my body. I arched, restless in my desire and moaned with my frustration.
He chuckled as I watched him walk over to the door, look back at me one more time and then open the door. He moved the sign placard from the inside handle to the outside handle, and then closed the door solidly behind him. It was comforting to hear him test the door before moving toward the elevator.
So, how did I get like this, I asked myself. Alone, in a hotel room, naked and vulnerable, in the most blatantly compromising position a woman could be in. Anyone coming into the room would be privy to this humiliating site. The thought was doing itchy things to me. There was enough slack that I could move against the sheets and arch my back and shift position slightly, but not enough to rub against anything of any consequence to ease the hunger filling me. Neither my ankles nor my wrists were bound tight, and I did have that knife in my hand . . . just in case. But I didn’t want to disappoint Roman. I wanted to be just as he left me when he returned.
If Roman wanted to play at bondage, hell, I’d let him, I told myself as I squirmed against the sheets and felt my body heat in ways I couldn’t control. It was quiet in the room, I could hear a few outside noises, but not many, so I had plenty of time to envision where this was all going to go when Roman got back. I hoped things were going well in court and idly wondered what the scenario would be for me if the man he was testifying for were found guilty instead of innocent. Would Roman be brutal, did he have that capability? I couldn’t imagine him hurting me, not intentionally at any rate. He’d hurt me a little the other night but that was just because he was so large and my body was not accustomed to accommodating his size. He had been out of control with his need and I hadn’t wanted him to stop, so rather than let him know I was uncomfortable, I had just taken it. I had wanted to give him the ultimate pleasure of taking me the way he wanted and I certainly was no worse the wear for it.
Over the ages women had taken on a lot more. I imagined Roman in medieval times, taking a woman over a boulder; Roman in ancient Rome, winning a lady’s favor in jousting and ravaging her in his tent; Roman in Victorian times, wooing a young innocent and taking her in his carriage; Roman in war time, taking a woman in a lean-to on the side of a road leading to a picturesque hill town.
He was right; by the time he got back I was so ready for him that I was crawling the walls. My body was hot and needy and I was not just damp at my core, I was slick up and down both thighs.
When I heard a key in the door, I tensed until I was sure it was Roman and then I waited for him to come into the room, close the door, and take me—any way he chose. I was sure I’d be happy with any position. Any way he chose to penetrate me would be just fine with me. Just do it!
Then he was inside, the door bolted and the world left on the outside.
“You don’t know how pleased I am to see you still like this. Letting me have my fill of you. Letting me see you so vulnerable and powerless. You are very beautiful you know.”
“What happened to the pilot?” I had to know, had to know his mood.
“He was fined and is on probation for two years, but no jail time, thank God.”
“Wonderful.”
“Yes, ‘tis wonderful indeed, as are you. I’m for a drink and then I think I will dine on you. What would you say to that?”
“Oh yes, I would like anything you choose to do to me. Just do it now!”
He chuckled and ran his finger down my nose. “A drink, that I will enjoy while looking at you, and then I will get to work, I promise.” He planted his hands on either side of the bed beside my head and his lips lowered to mine. He captured them with his, practically devouring them before pushing off and walking over to the mini-bar. I was still trying to draw him back with my lips and tongue.
I heard him fix his drink, clinking ice and splashing something into a glass and then I watched as he dragged one of the arm chairs to the foot of the bed using the armrest. He walked around the bed looking down at me, sipping his dark golden drink, then he sat in the armchair with his feet propped on the footboard and told me to, “Pull your knees up and out, I want to see all of you.”
I did as he asked, opening myself even more for his view. I could feel my face flush while I listened to him sip his drink. It took a long time for him to finish it, and every moment I knew exactly where his eyes were. My body was on fire, my core was about to go up in flames. I could not wait for him to touch me. I knew I would come within seconds if he would just flick his finger where his eyes were focused. One little tiny flicker, would be all it would take. “Roman, I need you badly. Please, please, take me, touch me.”
“Finally! That was exactly what I was waiting to hear.” I heard him push the chair back and get up. Then I watched as he removed his suit coat and rolled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt. I felt him untie the silk tie around my left ankl
e, then lift my foot to kiss it.
“What a long way we’ve come from me fastenin’this on your ankle,” he said in a husky voice, as his thumb rolled the gold chain back and forth. He kissed every inch of the skin above and below. His kisses were a combination of little nips that left heat in their wake and open mouthed kisses that left a trail of damp that cooled in the air. His eyes were hot and lust-filled as he looked down my legs to the very core of me.
As he massaged my foot, he kissed with full mouthed, open ardor. With a throaty groan, he began the long, torturous trail up my calf, around my knee and up the curve of my inner thigh. He did the same for my right foot and leg only this time when he reached the apex between my thighs, he climbed onto the bed and deftly ran his tongue up my slit and captured my throbbing little nubbin. I bucked and sobbed and fractured as I came against the milking suction of his lips.
Mere seconds later he had untied my hands, pulled me to the end of the bed, and entered me. As soon as he buried himself deep inside me, his groin to my mons, I came again. Several deep, hard thrusts later, I came again. I lost count of how many times he sent me over the edge and off the precipice. Eventually, I stopped climbing back up and fell limply to the bed, completely wrung out.
The Widows of Sea Trail-Tessa of Crooked Gulley Page 12